{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16292/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16292","id":"gutenberg_16292","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16292","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Politics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 1760-1820","Political science -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Produced by Paul Murray, Susan Skinner and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team from images generously made\navailable by the Bibliotheque nationale de France\n(BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WORKS\n\nOF\n\nTHE RIGHT HONOURABLE\n\nEDMUND BURKE\n\n\nIN TWELVE VOLUMES\n\nVOLUME THE SEVENTH\n\n\n[Illustration: Burke Coat of Arms.]\n\n\nLONDON\nJOHN C. NIMMO\n14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.\nMDCCCLXXXVII\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. VII\n\n\nFRAGMENTS AND NOTES OF SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT.\n\n  SPEECH ON THE ACTS OF UNIFORMITY, February 6, 1772                   3\n\n  SPEECH ON A BILL FOR THE RELIEF OF PROTESTANT DISSENTERS,\n    March 7, 1773                                                     21\n\n  SPEECH ON A MOTION FOR LEAVE TO BRING IN A BILL TO REPEAL AND\n    ALTER CERTAIN ACTS RESPECTING RELIGIOUS OPINIONS, UPON THE\n    OCCASION OF A PETITION OF THE UNITARIAN SOCIETY, May 11, 1792     39\n\n  SPEECH RELATIVE TO THE MIDDLESEX ELECTION, February 7, 1771         59\n\n  SPEECH ON A BILL FOR SHORTENING THE DURATION OF PARLIAMENTS,\n    May 8, 1780                                                       69\n\n  SPEECH ON A MOTION FOR A COMMITTEE TO INQUIRE INTO THE STATE OF\n    THE REPRESENTATION OF THE COMMONS IN PARLIAMENT, May 7, 1782      89\n\n  SPEECH ON A MOTION FOR LEAVE TO BRING IN A BILL FOR EXPLAINING\n    THE POWERS OF JURIES IN PROSECUTIONS FOR LIBELS, March 7, 1771.\n    TOGETHER WITH A LETTER IN VINDICATION OF THAT MEASURE, AND A\n    COPY OF THE PROPOSED BILL                                        105\n\n  SPEECH ON A BILL FOR THE REPEAL OF THE MARRIAGE ACT,\n    June 15, 1781                                                    129\n\n  SPEECH ON A MOTION FOR LEAVE TO BRING IN A BILL TO QUIET THE\n    POSSESSIONS OF THE SUBJECT AGAINST DORMANT CLAIMS OF THE CHURCH,\n    February 17, 1772                                                137\n\n\nHINTS FOR AN ESSAY ON THE DRAMA                                      143\n\n\nAN ESSAY TOWARDS AN ABRIDGMENT OF THE ENGLISH HISTORY. IN THREE BOOKS.\n\n                             BOOK I.\n\nCHAP.  I. Causes of the Connection between the Romans and\n          Britons.--C\u00e6sar's two Invasions of Britain                 159\n\n      II. Some Account of the Ancient Inhabitants of Britain         170\n\n     III. The Reduction of Britain by the Romans                     189\n\n      IV. The Fall of the Roman Power in Britain                     214\n\n                             BOOK II.\n\nCHAP.   I. The Entry and Settlement of the Saxons, and their\n          Conversion to Christianity                                 227\n\n      II. Establishment of Christianity--of Monastic Institutions\n          --and of their Effects                                     240\n\n     III. Series of Anglo-Saxon Kings from Ethelbert to Alfred:\n          with the Invasion of the Danes                             255\n\n      IV. Reign of King Alfred                                       261\n\n       V. Succession of Kings from Alfred to Harold                  269\n\n      VI. Harold II.--Invasion of the Normans.--Account of that\n          People, and of the State of England at the Time of the\n          Invasion                                                   280\n\n     VII. Of the Laws and Institutions of the Saxons                 291\n\n                            BOOK III.\n\nCHAP.  I. View of the State of Europe at the Time of the Norman\n          Invasion                                                   327\n\n      II. Reign of William the Conqueror                             335\n\n     III. Reign of William the Second, surnamed Rufus                364\n\n      IV. Reign of Henry I                                           375\n\n       V. Reign of Stephen                                           386\n\n      VI. Reign of Henry II                                          394\n\n     VII. Reign of Richard I                                         425\n\n    VIII. Reign of John                                              437\n\n      IX. Fragment.--An Essay towards an History of the Laws of\n          England                                                    475\n\n\n\n\nFRAGMENTS AND NOTES\n\nOF\n\nSPEECHES.\n\n\nDuring the period of Mr. Burke's Parliamentary labors, some alterations\nin the Acts of Uniformity, and the repeal of the Test and Corporation\nActs, were agitated at various times in the House of Commons. It appears\nfrom the state of his manuscript papers, that he had designed to publish\nsome of the Speeches which he delivered in those discussions, and with\nthat view had preserved the following Fragments and detached Notes,\nwhich are now given to the public with as much order and connection as\ntheir imperfect condition renders them capable of receiving. The\nSpeeches on the Middlesex Election, on shortening the Duration of\nParliaments, on the Reform of the Representation in Parliament, on the\nBill for explaining the Power of Juries in Prosecutions for libels, and\non the Repeal of the Marriage Act, were found in the same imperfect\nstate.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nTHE ACTS OF UNIFORMITY\n\n\nFEBRUARY 6, 1772.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThe following Speech was occasioned by a petition to the House of\nCommons from certain clergymen of the Church of England, and certain of\nthe two professions of Civil Law and Physic, and others, praying to be\nrelieved from subscription to the Thirty-Nine Articles, as required by\nthe Acts of Uniformity. The persona associated for this purpose were\ndistinguished at the time by the name of \"The Feathers Tavern\nAssociation,\" from the place where their meetings were usually held.\nTheir petition was presented on the 6th of February, 1772; and on a\nmotion that it should be brought up, the same was negatived on a\ndivision, in which Mr. Burke voted in the majority, by 217 against 71.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH.\n\n\nMr. Speaker,--I should not trouble the House upon this question, if I\ncould at all acquiesce in many of the arguments, or justify the vote I\nshall give upon several of the reasons which have been urged in favor of\nit. I should, indeed, be very much concerned, if I were thought to be\ninfluenced to that vote by those arguments.\n\nIn particular, I do most exceedingly condemn all such arguments as\ninvolve any kind of reflection on the personal character of the\ngentlemen who have brought in a petition so decent in the style of it,\nand so constitutional in the mode. Besides the unimpeachable integrity\nand piety of many of the promoters of this petition, which render those\naspersions as idle as they are unjust, such a way of treating the\nsubject can have no other effect than to turn the attention of the House\nfrom the merits of the petition, the only thing properly before us, and\nwhich we are sufficiently competent to decide upon, to the motives of\nthe petitioners, which belong exclusively to the Great Searcher of\nHearts.\n\nWe all know that those who loll at their ease in high dignities, whether\nof the Church or of the State, are commonly averse to all reformation.\nIt is hard to persuade them that there can be anything amiss in\nestablishments which by feeling experience they find to be so very\ncomfortable. It is as true, that, from the same selfish motives, those\nwho are struggling upwards are apt to find everything wrong and out of\norder. These are truths upon one side and on the other; and neither on\nthe one side or the other in argument are they worth a single farthing.\nI wish, therefore, so much had not been said upon these ill-chosen, and\nworse than ill-chosen, these very invidious topics.\n\nI wish still more that the dissensions and animosities which had slept\nfor a century had not been just now most unseasonably revived. But if we\nmust be driven, whether we will or not, to recollect these unhappy\ntransactions, let our memory be complete and equitable, let us recollect\nthe whole of them together. If the Dissenters, as an honorable gentleman\nhas described them, have formerly risen from a \"whining, canting,\nsnivelling generation,\" to be a body dreadful and ruinous to all our\nestablishments, let him call to mind the follies, the violences, the\noutrages, and persecutions, that conjured up, very blamably, but very\nnaturally, that same spirit of retaliation. Let him recollect, along\nwith the injuries, the services which Dissenters have done to our Church\nand to our State. If they have once destroyed, more than once they have\nsaved them. This is but common justice, which they and all mankind have\na right to.\n\nThere are, Mr. Speaker, besides these prejudices and animosities, which\nI would have wholly removed from the debate, things more regularly and\nargumentatively urged against the petition, which, however, do not at\nall appear to me conclusive.\n\nFirst, two honorable gentlemen, one near me, the other, I think, on the\nother side of the House, assert, that, if you alter her symbols, you\ndestroy the being of the Church of England. This, for the sake of the\nliberty of that Church, I must absolutely deny. The Church, like every\nbody corporate, may alter her laws without changing her identity. As an\nindependent church, professing fallibility, she has claimed a right of\nacting without the consent of any other; as a church, she claims, and\nhas always exercised, a right of reforming whatever appeared amiss in\nher doctrine, her discipline, or her rites. She did so, when she shook\noff the Papal supremacy in the reign of Henry the Eighth, which was an\nact of the body of the English Church, as well as of the State (I don't\ninquire how obtained). She did so, when she twice changed the Liturgy in\nthe reign of King Edward, when she then established Articles, which were\nthemselves a variation from former professions. She did so, when she cut\noff three articles from her original forty-two, and reduced them to the\npresent thirty-nine; and she certainly would not lose her corporate\nidentity, nor subvert her fundamental principles, though she were to\nleave ten of the thirty-nine which remain out of any future confession\nof her faith. She would limit her corporate powers, on the contrary, and\nshe would oppose her fundamental principles, if she were to deny herself\nthe prudential exercise of such capacity of reformation. This,\ntherefore, can be no objection to your receiving the petition.\n\nIn the next place, Sir, I am clear, that the Act of Union, reciting and\nratifying one Scotch and one English act of Parliament, has not rendered\nany change whatsoever in our Church impossible, but by a dissolution of\nthe union between the two kingdoms.\n\nThe honorable gentleman who has last touched upon that point has not\ngone quite so far as the gentlemen who first insisted upon it. However,\nas none of them wholly abandon that post, it will not be safe to leave\nit behind me unattacked. I believe no one will wish their interpretation\nof that act to be considered as authentic. What shall we think of the\nwisdom (to say nothing of the competence) of that legislature which\nshould ordain to itself such a fundamental law, at its outset, as to\ndisable itself from executing its own functions,--which should prevent\nit from making any further laws, however wanted, and that, too, on the\nmost interesting subject that belongs to human society, and where she\nmost frequently wants its interposition,--which should fix those\nfundamental laws that are forever to prevent it from adapting itself to\nits opinions, however clear, or to its own necessities, however urgent?\nSuch an act, Mr. Speaker, would forever put the Church out of its own\npower; it certainly would put it far above the State, and erect it into\nthat species of independency which it has been the great principle of\nour policy to prevent.\n\nThe act never meant, I am sure, any such unnatural restraint on the\njoint legislature it was then forming. History shows us what it meant,\nand all that it could mean with any degree of common sense.\n\nIn the reign of Charles the First a violent and ill-considered attempt\nwas made unjustly to establish the platform of the government and the\nrites of the Church of England in Scotland, contrary to the genius and\ndesires of far the majority of that nation. This usurpation excited a\nmost mutinous spirit in that country. It produced that shocking\nfanatical Covenant (I mean the Covenant of '36) for forcing their ideas\nof religion on England, and indeed on all mankind. This became the\noccasion, at length, of other covenants, and of a Scotch army marching\ninto England to fulfil them; and the Parliament of England (for its own\npurposes) adopted their scheme, took their last covenant, and destroyed\nthe Church of England. The Parliament, in their ordinance of 1648,\nexpressly assign their desire of conforming to the Church of Scotland as\na motive for their alteration.\n\nTo prevent such violent enterprises on the one side or on the other,\nsince each Church was going to be disarmed of a legislature wholly and\npeculiarly affected to it, and lest this new uniformity in the State\nshould be urged as a reason and ground of ecclesiastical uniformity, the\nAct of Union provided that presbytery should continue the Scotch, as\nepiscopacy the English establishment, and that this separate and\nmutually independent Church-government was to be considered as a part of\nthe Union, without aiming at putting the regulation within each Church\nout of its own power, without putting both Churches out of the power of\nthe State. It could not mean to forbid us to set anything ecclesiastical\nin order, but at the expense of tearing up all foundations, and\nforfeiting the inestimable benefits (for inestimable they are) which we\nderive from the happy union of the two kingdoms. To suppose otherwise is\nto suppose that the act intended we could not meddle at all with the\nChurch, but we must as a preliminary destroy the State.\n\nWell, then, Sir, this is, I hope, satisfactory. The Act of Union does\nnot stand in our way. But, Sir, gentlemen think we are not competent to\nthe reformation desired, chiefly from our want of theological learning.\nIf we were the legal assembly....\n\nIf ever there was anything to which, from reason, nature, habit, and\nprinciple, I am totally averse, it is persecution for conscientious\ndifference in opinion. If these gentlemen complained justly of any\ncompulsion upon them on that article, I would hardly wait for their\npetitions; as soon as I knew the evil, I would haste to the cure; I\nwould even run before their complaints.\n\nI will not enter into the abstract merits of our Articles and Liturgy.\nPerhaps there are some things in them which one would wish had not been\nthere. They are not without the marks and characters of human frailty.\n\nBut it is not human frailty and imperfection, and even a considerable\ndegree of them, that becomes a ground for your alteration; for by no\nalteration will you get rid of those errors, however you may delight\nyourselves in varying to infinity the fashion of them. But the ground\nfor a legislative alteration of a legal establishment is this, and this\nonly,--that you find the inclinations of the majority of the people,\nconcurring with your own sense of the intolerable nature of the abuse,\nare in favor of a change.\n\nIf this be the case in the present instance, certainly you ought to make\nthe alteration that is proposed, to satisfy your own consciences, and to\ngive content to your people. But if you have no evidence of this nature,\nit ill becomes your gravity, on the petition of a few gentlemen, to\nlisten to anything that tends to shake one of the capital pillars of the\nstate, and alarm the body of your people upon that one ground, in which\nevery hope and fear, every interest, passion, prejudice, everything\nwhich can affect the human breast, are all involved together. If you\nmake this a season for religious alterations, depend upon it, you will\nsoon find it a season of religious tumults and religious wars.\n\nThese gentlemen complain of hardship. No considerable number shows\ndiscontent; but, in order to give satisfaction to any number of\nrespectable men, who come in so decent and constitutional a mode before\nus, let us examine a little what that hardship is. They want to be\npreferred clergymen in the Church of England as by law established; but\ntheir consciences will not suffer them to conform to the doctrines and\npractices of that Church: that is, they want to be teachers in a church\nto which they do not belong; and it is an odd sort of hardship. They\nwant to receive the emoluments appropriated for teaching one set of\ndoctrines, whilst they are teaching another. A church, in any legal\nsense, is only a certain system of religious doctrines and practices\nfixed and ascertained by some law,--by the difference of which laws\ndifferent churches (as different commonwealths) are made in various\nparts of the world; and the establishment is a tax laid by the same\nsovereign authority for payment of those who so teach and so practise:\nfor no legislature was ever so absurd as to tax its people to support\nmen for teaching and acting as they please, but by some prescribed rule.\n\nThe hardship amounts to this,--that the people of England are not taxed\ntwo shillings in the pound to pay them for teaching, as divine truths,\ntheir own particular fancies. For the state has so taxed the people; and\nby way of relieving these gentlemen, it would be a cruel hardship on the\npeople to be compelled to pay, from the sweat of their brow, the most\nheavy of all taxes to men, to condemn as heretical the doctrines which\nthey repute to be orthodox, and to reprobate as superstitious the\npractices which they use as pious and holy. If a man leaves by will an\nestablishment for preaching, such as Boyle's Lectures, or for charity\nsermons, or funeral sermons, shall any one complain of an hardship,\nbecause he has an excellent sermon upon matrimony, or on the martyrdom\nof King Charles, or on the Restoration, which I, the trustee of the\nestablishment, will not pay him for preaching?--S. Jenyns, Origin of\nEvil.--Such is the hardship which they complain of under the present\nChurch establishment, that they have not the power of taxing the people\nof England for the maintenance of their private opinions.\n\nThe laws of toleration provide for every real grievance that these\ngentlemen can rationally complain of Are they hindered from professing\ntheir belief of what they think to be truth? If they do not like the\nEstablishment, there are an hundred different modes of Dissent in which\nthey may teach. But even if they are so unfortunately circumstanced that\nof all that variety none will please them, they have free liberty to\nassemble a congregation of their own; and if any persons think their\nfancies (they may be brilliant imaginations) worth paying for, they are\nat liberty to maintain them as their clergy: nothing hinders it. But if\nthey cannot get an hundred people together who will pay for their\nreading a liturgy after their form, with what face can they insist upon\nthe nation's conforming to their ideas, for no other visible purpose\nthan the enabling them to receive with a good conscience the tenth part\nof the produce of your lands?\n\nTherefore, beforehand, the Constitution has thought proper to take a\nsecurity that the tax raised on the people shall be applied only to\nthose who profess such doctrines and follow such a mode of worship as\nthe legislature, representing the people, has thought most agreeable to\ntheir general sense,--binding, as usual, the minority, not to an assent\nto the doctrines, but to a payment of the tax.\n\nBut how do you ease and relieve? How do you know, that, in making a new\ndoor into the Church for these gentlemen, you do not drive ten times\ntheir number out of it? Supposing the contents and not-contents strictly\nequal in numbers and consequence, the possession, to avoid disturbance,\nought to carry it. You displease all the clergy of England now actually\nin office, for the chance of obliging a score or two, perhaps, of\ngentlemen, who are, or want to be, beneficed clergymen: and do you\noblige? Alter your Liturgy,--will it please all even, of those who wish,\nan alteration? will they agree in what ought to be altered? And after it\nis altered to the mind of every one, you are no further advanced than if\nyou had not taken a single step; because a large body of men will then\nsay you ought to have no liturgy at all: and then these men, who now\ncomplain so bitterly that they are shut out, will themselves bar the\ndoor against thousands of others. Dissent, not satisfied with\ntoleration, is not conscience, but ambition.\n\nYou altered the Liturgy for the Directory. This was settled by a set of\nmost learned divines and learned laymen: Selden sat amongst them. Did\nthis please? It was considered upon both sides as a most unchristian\nimposition. Well, at the Restoration they rejected the Directory, and\nreformed the Common Prayer,--which, by the way, had been three times\nreformed before. Were they then contented? Two thousand (or some great\nnumber) of clergy resigned their livings in one day rather than read it:\nand truly, rather than raise that second idol, I should have adhered to\nthe Directory, as I now adhere to the Common Prayer. Nor can you content\nother men's conscience, real or pretended, by any concessions: follow\nyour own; seek peace and ensue it. You have no symptoms of discontent in\nthe people to their Establishment. The churches are too small for their\ncongregations. The livings are too few for their candidates. The spirit\nof religious controversy has slackened by the nature of things: by act\nyou may revive it. I will not enter into the question, how much truth is\npreferable to peace. Perhaps truth may be far better. But as we have\nscarcely ever the same certainty in the one that we have in the other, I\nwould, unless the truth were evident indeed, hold fast to peace, which\nhas in her company charity, the highest of the virtues.\n\nThis business appears in two points of view: 1st, Whether it is a matter\nof grievance; 2nd, Whether it is within our province to redress it with\npropriety and prudence. Whether it comes properly before us on a\npetition upon matter of grievance I would not inquire too curiously. I\nknow, technically speaking, that nothing agreeable to law can be\nconsidered as a grievance. But an over-attention to the rules of any act\ndoes sometimes defeat the ends of it; and I think it does so in this\nParliamentary act, as much at least as in any other. I know many\ngentlemen think that the very essence of liberty consists in being\ngoverned according to law, as if grievances had nothing real and\nintrinsic; but I cannot be of that opinion. Grievances may subsist by\nlaw. Nay, I do not know whether any grievance can be considered as\nintolerable, until it is established and sanctified by law. If the Act\nof Toleration were not perfect, if there were a complaint of it, I would\ngladly consent to amend it. But when I heard a complaint of a pressure\non religious liberty, to my astonishment I find that there was no\ncomplaint whatsoever of the insufficiency of the act of King William,\nnor any attempt to make it more sufficient. The matter, therefore, does\nnot concern toleration, but establishment; and it is not the rights of\nprivate conscience that are in question, but the propriety of the terms\nwhich are proposed by law as a title to public emoluments: so that the\ncomplaint is not, that there is not toleration of diversity in opinion,\nbut that diversity in opinion is not rewarded by bishoprics, rectories,\nand collegiate stalls. When gentlemen complain of the subscription as\nmatter of grievance, the complaint arises from confounding private\njudgment, whose rights are anterior to law, and the qualifications which\nthe law creates for its own magistracies, whether civil or religious. To\ntake away from men their lives, their liberty, or their property, those\nthings for the protection of which society was introduced, is great\nhardship and intolerable tyranny; but to annex any condition you please\nto benefits artificially created is the most just, natural, and proper\nthing in the world. When _e nova_ you form an arbitrary benefit, an\nadvantage, pre\u00ebminence, or emolument, not by Nature, but institution,\nyou order and modify it with all the power of a creator over his\ncreature. Such benefits of institution are royalty, nobility,\npriesthood, all of which you may limit to birth; you might prescribe\neven shape and stature. The Jewish priesthood was hereditary. Founders'\nkinsmen have a preference in the election of fellows in many colleges of\nour universities: the qualifications at All Souls are, that they should\nbe _optime nati, bene vestiti, mediocriter docti_.\n\nBy contending for liberty in the candidate for orders, you take away the\nliberty of the elector, which is the people, that is, the state. If they\ncan choose, they may assign a reason for their choice; if they can\nassign a reason, they may do it in writing, and prescribe it as a\ncondition; they may transfer their authority to their representatives,\nand enable them to exercise the same. In all human institutions, a great\npart, almost all regulations, are made from the mere necessity of the\ncase, let the theoretical merits of the question be what they will. For\nnothing happened at the Reformation but what will happen in all such\nrevolutions. When tyranny is extreme, and abuses of government\nintolerable, men resort to the rights of Nature to shake it off. When\nthey have done so, the very same principle of necessity of human affairs\nto establish some other authority, which shall preserve the order of\nthis new institution, must be obeyed, until they grow intolerable; and\nyou shall not be suffered to plead original liberty against such an\ninstitution. See Holland, Switzerland.\n\nIf you will have religion publicly practised and publicly taught, you\nmust have a power to say what that religion will be which you will\nprotect and encourage, and to distinguish it by such marks and\ncharacteristics as you in your wisdom shall think fit. As I said before,\nyour determination may be unwise in this as in other matters; but it\ncannot be unjust, hard, or oppressive, or contrary to the liberty of\nany man, or in the least degree exceeding your province. It is,\ntherefore, as a grievance, fairly none at all,--nothing but what is\nessential, not only to the order, but to the liberty, of the whole\ncommunity.\n\nThe petitioners are so sensible of the force of these arguments, that\nthey do admit of one subscription,--that is, to the Scripture. I shall\nnot consider how forcibly this argument militates with their whole\nprinciple against subscription as an usurpation on the rights of\nProvidence: I content myself with submitting to the consideration of the\nHouse, that, if that rule were once established, it must have some\nauthority to enforce the obedience; because, you well know, a law\nwithout a sanction will be ridiculous. Somebody must sit in judgment on\nhis conformity; he must judge on the charge; if he judges, he must\nordain execution. These things are necessary consequences one of the\nother; and then, this judgment is an equal and a superior violation of\nprivate judgment; the right of private judgment is violated in a much\ngreater degree than it can be by any previous subscription. You come\nround again to subscription, as the best and easiest method; men must\njudge of his doctrine, and judge definitively: so that either his test\nis nugatory, or men must first or last prescribe his public\ninterpretation of it.\n\nIf the Church be, as Mr. Locke defines it, _a voluntary society_, &c,\nthen it is essential to this voluntary society to exclude from her\nvoluntary society any member she thinks fit, or to oppose the entrance\nof any upon such conditions as she thinks proper. For, otherwise, it\nwould be a voluntary society acting contrary to her will, which is a\ncontradiction in terms. And this is Mr. Locke's opinion, the advocate\nfor the largest scheme of ecclesiastical and civil toleration to\nProtestants (for to Papists he allows no toleration at all).\n\nThey dispute only the extent of the subscription; they therefore tacitly\nadmit the equity of the principle itself. Here they do not resort to the\noriginal rights of Nature, because it is manifest that those rights give\nas large a power of controverting every part of Scripture, or even the\nauthority of the whole, as they do to the controverting any articles\nwhatsoever. When a man requires you to sign an assent to Scripture, he\nrequires you to assent to a doctrine as contrary to your natural\nunderstanding, and to your rights of free inquiry, as those who require\nyour conformity to any one article whatsoever.\n\nThe subscription to Scripture is the most astonishing idea I ever heard,\nand will amount to just nothing at all. Gentlemen so acute have not,\nthat I have heard, ever thought of answering a plain, obvious question:\nWhat is that Scripture to which they are content to subscribe? They do\nnot think that a book becomes of divine authority because it is bound in\nblue morocco, and is printed by John Baskett and his assigns. The Bible\nis a vast collection of different treatises: a man who holds the divine\nauthority of one may consider the other as merely human. What is his\nCanon? The Jewish? St. Jerome's? that of the Thirty-Nine Articles?\nLuther's? There are some who reject the Canticles; others, six of the\nEpistles; the Apocalypse has been suspected even as heretical, and was\ndoubted of for many ages, and by many great men. As these narrow the\nCanon, others have enlarged it by admitting St. Barnabas's Epistles, the\nApostolic Constitutions, to say nothing of many other Gospels.\nTherefore, to ascertain. Scripture, you must have one article more; and\nyou must define what that Scripture is which, you mean to teach. There\nare, I believe, very few who, when Scripture is so ascertained, do not\nsee the absolute necessity of knowing what general doctrine a man draws\nfrom it, before he is sent down authorized by the state to teach, it as\npure doctrine, and receive a tenth of the produce of our lands.\n\nThe Scripture is no one summary of doctrines regularly digested, in\nwhich, a man could not mistake his way. It is a most venerable, but most\nmultifarious, collection of the records of the divine economy: a\ncollection of an infinite variety,--of cosmogony, theology, history,\nprophecy, psalmody, morality, apologue, allegory, legislation, ethics,\ncarried through different books, by different authors, at different\nages, for different ends and purposes. It is necessary to sort out what\nis intended for example, what only as narrative,--what to be understood\nliterally, what figuratively,--where one precept is to be controlled and\nmodified by another,--what is used directly, and what only as an\nargument _ad hominem_,--what is temporary, and what of perpetual\nobligation,--what appropriated to one state and to one set of men, and\nwhat the general duty of all Christians. If we do not get some security\nfor this, we not only permit, but we actually pay for, all the dangerous\nfanaticism which, can be produced to corrupt our people, and to derange\nthe public worship of the country. We owe the best we can (not\ninfallibility, but prudence) to the subject,--first sound doctrine, then\nability to use it.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nA BILL FOR THE RELIEF OF PROTESTANT DISSENTERS.\n\nMARCH 17, 1773.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThis speech is given partly from the manuscript papers of Mr. Burke, and\npartly from a very imperfect short-hand note taken at the time by a\nmember of the House of Commons. The bill under discussion was opposed by\npetitions from several congregations calling themselves \"Protestant\nDissenters,\" who appear to have been principally composed of the people\nwho are generally known under the denomination of \"Methodists,\" and\nparticularly by a petition from a congregation of that description\nresiding in the town of Chatham.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH.\n\n\nI assure you, Sir, that the honorable gentleman who spoke last but one\nneed not be in the least fear that I should make a war of particles upon\nhis opinion, whether the Church of England _should, would_, or _ought_\nto be alarmed. I am very clear that this House has no one reason in the\nworld to think she is alarmed by the bill brought before you. It is\nsomething extraordinary that the only symptom of alarm in the Church of\nEngland should appear in the petition of some Dissenters, with whom, I\nbelieve very few in this House are yet acquainted, and of whom you know\nno more than that you are assured by the honorable gentleman that they\nare not Mahometans. Of the Church we know they are not, by the name that\nthey assume. They are, then, Dissenters. The first symptom of an alarm,\ncomes from some Dissenters assembled round the lines of Chatham: these\nlines become the security of the Church of England! The honorable\ngentleman, in speaking of the lines of Chatham, tells us that they serve\nnot only for the security of the wooden walls of England, but for the\ndefence of the Church of England. I suspect the wooden walls of England\nsecure the lines of Chatham, rather than the lines of Chatham secure the\nwooden walls of England.\n\nSir, the Church of England, if only defended by this miserable petition\nupon your table, must, I am afraid, upon the principles of true\nfortification, be soon destroyed. But, fortunately, her walls, bulwarks,\nand bastions are constructed of other materials than of stubble and\nstraw,--are built up with the strong and stable matter of the gospel of\nliberty, and founded on a true, constitutional, legal establishment.\nBut, Sir, she has other securities: she has the security of her own\ndoctrines; she has the security of the piety, the sanctity, of her own\nprofessors,--their learning is a bulwark to defend her; she has the\nsecurity of the two universities, not shook in any single battlement, in\nany single pinnacle.\n\nBut the honorable gentleman has mentioned, indeed, principles which\nastonish me rather more than ever. The honorable gentleman thinks that\nthe Dissenters enjoy a large share of liberty under a connivance; and he\nthinks that the establishing toleration by law is an attack upon\nChristianity.\n\nThe first of these is a contradiction in terms. Liberty under a\nconnivance! Connivance is a relaxation from slavery, not a definition of\nliberty. What is connivance, but a state under which all slaves live? If\nI was to describe slavery, I would say, with those who _hate_ it, it is\nliving under will, not under law; if as it is stated by its advocates, I\nwould say, that, like earthquakes, like thunder, or other wars the\nelements make upon mankind, it happens rarely, it occasionally comes now\nand then upon people, who, upon ordinary occasions, enjoy the same legal\ngovernment of liberty. Take it under the description of those who would\nsoften those features, the state of slavery and connivance is the same\nthing. If the liberty enjoyed be a liberty not of toleration, but of\nconnivance, the only question is, whether establishing such by law is an\nattack upon Christianity. Toleration an attack upon Christianity! What,\nthen! are we come to this pass, to suppose that nothing can support\nChristianity but the principles of persecution? Is that, then, the idea\nof establishment? Is it, then, the idea of Christianity itself, that it\nought to have establishments, that it ought to have laws against\nDissenters, but the breach of which laws is to be connived at? What a\npicture of toleration! what a picture of laws, of establishments! what a\npicture of religious and civil liberty! I am persuaded the honorable\ngentleman, does not see it in this light. But these very terms become\nthe strongest reasons for my support of the bill: for I am persuaded\nthat toleration, so far from being an attack upon Christianity, becomes\nthe best and surest support that possibly can be given, to it. The\nChristian religion itself arose without establishment,--it arose even\nwithout toleration; and whilst its own principles were not tolerated, it\nconquered all the powers of darkness, it conquered all the powers of the\nworld. The moment it began to depart from these principles, it converted\nthe establishment into tyranny; it subverted its foundations from that\nvery hour. Zealous as I am for the principle of an establishment, so\njust an abhorrence do I conceive against whatever may shake it. I know\nnothing but the supposed necessity of persecution that can make an\nestablishment disgusting. I would have toleration a part of\nestablishment, as a principle favorable to Christianity, and as a part\nof Christianity.\n\nAll seem agreed that the law, as it stands, inflicting penalties on\nall-religious teachers and on schoolmasters who do not sign the\nThirty-Nine Articles of Religion, ought not to be executed. We are all\nagreed that _the law is not good_: for that, I presume, is undoubtedly\nthe idea of a law that ought not to be executed. The question,\ntherefore, is, whether in a well-constituted commonwealth, which we\ndesire ours to be thought, and I trust intend that it should be, whether\nin such a commonwealth it is wise to retain those laws which it is not\nproper to execute. A penal law not ordinarily put in execution seems to\nme to be a very absurd and a very dangerous thing. For if its principle\nbe right, if the object of its prohibitions and penalties be a real\nevil, then you do in effect permit that very evil, which not only the\nreason of the thing, but your very law, declares ought not to be\npermitted; and thus it reflects exceedingly on the wisdom, and\nconsequently derogates not a little from the authority, of a legislature\nwho can at once forbid and suffer, and in the same breath promulgate\npenalty and indemnity to the same persons and for the very same actions.\nBut if the object of the law be no moral or political evil, then you\nought not to hold even a terror to those whom you ought certainly not to\npunish: for if it is not right to hurt, it is neither right nor wise to\nmenace. Such laws, therefore, as they must be defective either in\njustice or wisdom or both, so they cannot exist without a considerable\ndegree of danger. Take them which way you will, they are pressed with\nugly alternatives.\n\n1st. All penal laws are either upon popular prosecution, or on the part\nof the crown. Now if they may be roused from their sleep, whenever a\nminister thinks proper, as instruments of oppression, then they put vast\nbodies of men into a state of slavery and court dependence; since their\nliberty of conscience and their power of executing their functions\ndepend entirely on his will. I would have no man derive his means of\ncontinuing any function, or his being restrained from it, but from the\nlaws only: they should be his only superior and sovereign lords.\n\n2nd. They put statesmen and magistrates into an habit of playing fast\nand loose with the laws, straining or relaxing them as may best suit\ntheir political purposes,--and in that light tend to corrupt the\nexecutive power through all its offices.\n\n3rd. If they are taken up on popular actions, their operation in that\nlight also is exceedingly evil. They become the instruments of private\nmalice, private avarice, and not of public regulation; they nourish the\nworst of men to the prejudice of the best, punishing tender consciences,\nand rewarding informers.\n\nShall we, as the honorable gentleman tells us we may with perfect\nsecurity, trust to the manners of the age? I am well pleased with the\ngeneral manners of the times; but the desultory execution of penal laws,\nthe thing I condemn, does not depend on the manners of the times. I\nwould, however, have the laws tuned in unison with the manners. Very\ndissonant are a gentle country and cruel laws; very dissonant, that your\nreason is furious, but your passions moderate, and that you are always\nequitable except in your courts of justice.\n\nI will beg leave to state to the House one argument which has been much\nrelied upon: that the Dissenters are not unanimous upon this business;\nthat many persons are alarmed; that it will create a disunion among the\nDissenters.\n\nWhen any Dissenters, or any body of people, come here with a petition,\nit is not the number of people, but the reasonableness of the request,\nthat should weigh with the House. A body of Dissenters come to this\nHouse, and say, \"Tolerate us: we desire neither the parochial advantage\nof tithes, nor dignities, nor the stalls of your cathedrals: no! let the\nvenerable orders of the hierarchy exist with all their advantages.\" And\nshall I tell them, \"I reject your just and reasonable petition, not\nbecause it shakes the Church, but because there are others, while you\nlie grovelling upon the earth, that will kick and bite you\"? Judge which\nof these descriptions of men comes with a fair request: that which says,\n\"Sir, I desire liberty for my own, because I trespass on no man's\nconscience,\"--or the other, which says, \"I desire that these men should\nnot be suffered to act according to their consciences, though I am\ntolerated to act according to mine. But I sign a body of Articles, which\nis my title to toleration; I sign no more, because more are against my\nconscience. But I desire that you will not tolerate these men, because\nthey will not go so far as I, though I desire to be tolerated, who will\nnot go as far as you. No, imprison them, if they come within five miles\nof a corporate town, because they do not believe what I do in point of\ndoctrines.\" Shall I not say to these men, _Arrangez-vous, canaille?_\nYou, who are not the predominant power, will not give to others the\nrelaxation under which you are yourself suffered to live. I have as high\nan opinion of the doctrines of the Church as you. I receive them\nimplicitly, or I put my own explanation on them, or take that which\nseems to me to come best recommended by authority. There are those of\nthe Dissenters who think more rigidly of the doctrine of the Articles\nrelative to Predestination than others do. They sign the Article\nrelative to it _ex animo_, and literally. Others allow a latitude of\nconstruction. These two parties are in the Church, as well as among the\nDissenters; yet in the Church we live quietly under the same roof. I do\nnot see why, as long as Providence gives us no further light into this\ngreat mystery, we should not leave things as the Divine Wisdom has left\nthem. But suppose all these things to me to be clear, (which Providence,\nhowever, seems to have left obscure,) yet, whilst Dissenters claim a\ntoleration in things which, seeming clear to me, are obscure to them,\nwithout entering into the merit of the Articles, with what face can\nthese men say, \"Tolerate us, but do not tolerate them\"? Toleration is\ngood for all, or it is good for none.\n\nThe discussion this day is not between establishment on one hand and\ntoleration on the other, but between those who, being tolerated\nthemselves, refuse toleration to others. That power should be puffed up\nwith pride, that authority should degenerate into rigor, if not\nlaudable, is but too natural. But this proceeding of theirs is much\nbeyond the usual allowance to human weakness: it not only is shocking to\nour reason, but it provokes our indignation. _Quid domini facient,\naudent cum talia fures?_ It is not the proud prelate thundering in his\nCommission Court, but a pack of manumitted slaves, with the lash of the\nbeadle flagrant on their backs, and their legs still galled with their\nfetters, that would drive their brethren into that prison-house from\nwhence they have just been permitted to escape. If, instead of puzzling\nthemselves in the depths of the Divine counsels, they would turn, to the\nmild morality of the Gospel, they would read their own\ncondemnation:--\"O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt\nbecause thou desiredst me: shouldest not thou also have compassion on\nthy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?\"\n\nIn my opinion, Sir, a magistrate, whenever he goes to put any restraint\nupon religious freedom, can only do it upon this ground,--that the\nperson dissenting does not dissent from the scruples of ill-informed\nconscience, but from a party ground of dissension, in order to raise a\nfaction in the state. We give, with regard to rites and ceremonies, an\nindulgence to tender consciences. But if dissent is at all punished in\nany country, if at all it can be punished upon any pretence, it is upon\na presumption, not that a man is supposed to differ conscientiously from\nthe establishment, but that he resists truth for the sake of\nfaction,--that he abets diversity of opinions in religion to distract\nthe state, and to destroy the peace of his country. This is the only\nplausible,--for there is no true ground of persecution. As the laws\nstand, therefore, let us see how we have thought fit to act.\n\nIf there is any one thing within the competency of a magistrate with\nregard to religion, it is this: that he has a right to direct the\nexterior ceremonies of religion; that, whilst interior religion is\nwithin the jurisdiction of God alone, the external part, bodily action,\nis within the province of the chief governor. Hooker, and all the great\nlights of the Church, have constantly argued this to be a part within\nthe province of the civil magistrate. But look at the Act of Toleration\nof William and Mary: there you will see the civil magistrate has not\nonly dispensed with those things which are more particularly within his\nprovince, with those things which faction might be supposed to take up\nfor the sake of making visible and external divisions and raising a\nstandard of revolt, but has also from sound politic considerations\nrelaxed on those points which are confessedly without his province.\n\nThe honorable gentleman, speaking of the heathens, certainly could not\nmean to recommend anything that is derived from that impure source. But\nhe has praised the tolerating spirit of the heathens. Well! but the\nhonorable gentleman will recollect that heathens, that polytheists, must\npermit a number of divinities. It is the very essence of its\nconstitution. But was it ever heard that polytheism tolerated a dissent\nfrom a polytheistic establishment,--the belief of one God only? Never!\nnever! Sir, they constantly carried on persecution against that\ndoctrine. I will not give heathens the glory of a doctrine which I\nconsider the best part of Christianity. The honorable gentleman must\nrecollect the Roman law, that was clearly against the introduction of\nany foreign rites in matters of religion. You have it at large in Livy,\nhow they persecuted in the first introduction the rites of Bacchus; and\neven before Christ, to say nothing of their subsequent persecutions,\nthey persecuted the Druids and others. Heathenism, therefore, as in\nother respects erroneous, was erroneous in point of persecution. I do\nnot say every heathen who persecuted was therefore an impious man: I\nonly say he was mistaken, as such a man is now. But, says the honorable\ngentleman, they did not persecute Epicureans. No: the Epicureans had no\nquarrel with their religious establishment, nor desired any religion for\nthemselves. It would have been very extraordinary, if irreligious\nheathens had desired either a religious establishment or toleration.\nBut, says the honorable gentleman, the Epicureans entered, as others,\ninto the temples. They did so; they defied all subscription; they defied\nall sorts of conformity; there was no subscription to which they were\nnot ready to set their hands, no ceremonies they refused to practise;\nthey made it a principle of their irreligion outwardly to conform to any\nreligion. These atheists eluded all that you could do: so will all\nfreethinkers forever. Then you suffer, or the weakness of your law has\nsuffered, those great dangerous animals to escape notice, whilst you\nhave nets that entangle the poor fluttering silken wings of a tender\nconscience.\n\nThe honorable gentleman insists much upon this circumstance of\nobjection,--namely, the division amongst the Dissenters. Why, Sir, the\nDissenters, by the nature of the term, are open to have a division among\nthemselves. They are Dissenters because they differ from the Church of\nEngland: not that they agree among themselves. There are Presbyterians,\nthere are Independents,--some that do not agree to infant baptism,\nothers that do not agree to the baptism of adults, or any baptism. All\nthese are, however, tolerated under the acts of King William, and\nsubsequent acts; and their diversity of sentiments with one another did\nnot and could not furnish an argument against their toleration, when\ntheir difference with ourselves furnished none.\n\nBut, says the honorable gentleman, if you suffer them to go on, they\nwill shake the fundamental principles of Christianity. Let it be\nconsidered, that this argument goes as strongly against connivance,\nwhich you allow, as against toleration, which you reject. The gentleman\nsets out with a principle of perfect liberty, or, as he describes it,\nconnivance. But, for fear of dangerous opinions, you leave it in your\npower to vex a man who has not held any one dangerous opinion\nwhatsoever. If one man is a professed atheist, another man the best\nChristian, but dissents from two of the Thirty-Nine Articles, I may let\nescape the atheist, because I know him to be an atheist, because I am,\nperhaps, so inclined myself, and because I may connive where I think\nproper; but the conscientious Dissenter, on account of his attachment to\nthat general religion which perhaps I hate, I shall take care to punish,\nbecause I may punish when I think proper. Therefore, connivance being an\nengine of private malice or private favor, not of good government,--an\nengine which totally fails of suppressing atheism, but oppresses\nconscience,--I say that principle becomes, not serviceable, but\ndangerous to Christianity; that it is not toleration, but contrary to\nit, even contrary to peace; that the penal system to which it belongs is\na dangerous principle in the economy either of religion or government.\nThe honorable gentleman (and in him I comprehend all those who oppose\nthe bill) bestowed in support of their side of the question as much\nargument as it could bear, and much more of learning and decoration than\nit deserved. He thinks connivance consistent, but legal toleration\ninconsistent, with the interests of Christianity. Perhaps I would go as\nfar as that honorable gentleman, if I thought toleration inconsistent\nwith those interests. God forbid! I may be mistaken, but I take\ntoleration to be a part of religion. I do not know which I would\nsacrifice: I would keep them both: it is not necessary I should\nsacrifice either. I do not like the idea of tolerating the doctrines of\nEpicurus: but nothing in the world propagates them so much as the\noppression of the poor, of the honest and candid disciples of the\nreligion we profess in common,--I mean revealed religion; nothing sooner\nmakes them take a short cut out of the bondage of sectarian vexation\ninto open and direct infidelity than tormenting men for every\ndifference. My opinion is, that, in establishing the Christian religion\nwherever you find it, curiosity or research is its best security; and in\nthis way a man is a great deal better justified in saying, Tolerate all\nkinds of consciences, than in imitating the heathens, whom the honorable\ngentleman quotes, in tolerating those who have none. I am not over-fond\nof calling for the secular arm upon these misguided or misguiding men;\nbut if ever it ought to be raised, it ought surely to be raised against\nthese very men, not against others, whose liberty of religion you make a\npretext for proceedings which drive them into the bondage of impiety.\nWhat figure do I make in saying, I do not attack the works of these\natheistical writers, but I will keep a rod hanging over the\nconscientious man, their bitterest enemy, because these atheists may\ntake advantage of the liberty of their foes to introduce irreligion? The\nbest book that ever, perhaps, has been written against these people is\nthat in which the author has collected in a body the whole of the\ninfidel code, and has brought the writers into one body to cut them all\noff together. This was done by a Dissenter, who never did subscribe the\nThirty-Nine Articles,--Dr. Leland. But if, after all this, danger is to\nbe apprehended, if you are really fearful that Christianity will\nindirectly suffer by this liberty, you have my free consent: go\ndirectly, and by the straight way, and not by a circuit in which, in\nyour road you may destroy your friends; point your arms against these\nmen who do the mischief you fear promoting; point your arms against men\nwho, not contented with endeavoring to turn your eyes from the blaze and\neffulgence of light by which life and immortality is so gloriously\ndemonstrated by the Gospel, would even extinguish that faint glimmering\nof Nature, that only comfort supplied to ignorant man before this great\nillumination,--them, who, by attacking even the possibility of all\nrevelation, arraign all the dispensations of Providence to man. These\nare the wicked Dissenters you ought to fear; these are the people\nagainst whom you ought to aim the shaft of the law; these are the men to\nwhom, arrayed in all the terrors of government, I would say, You shall\nnot degrade us into brutes! These men, these factious men, as the\nhonorable gentleman properly called them, are the just objects of\nvengeance, not the conscientious Dissenter,--these men, who would take\naway whatever ennobles the rank or consoles the misfortunes of human\nnature, by breaking off that connection of observances, of affections,\nof hopes and fears, which bind us to the Divinity, and constitute the\nglorious and distinguishing prerogative of humanity, that of being a\nreligious creature: against these I would have the laws rise in all\ntheir majesty of terrors, to fulminate such vain and impious wretches,\nand to awe them into impotence by the only dread they can fear or\nbelieve, to learn that eternal lesson, _Discite justitiam moniti, et non\ntemnere Divos_!\n\nAt the same time that I would cut up the very root of atheism, I would\nrespect all conscience,--all conscience that is really such, and which\nperhaps its very tenderness proves to be sincere. I wish to see the\nEstablished Church of England great and powerful; I wish to see her\nfoundations laid low and deep, that she may crush the giant powers of\nrebellious darkness; I would have her head raised up to that heaven to\nwhich she conducts us. I would have her open wide her hospitable gates\nby a noble and liberal comprehension, but I would have no breaches in\nher wall; I would have her cherish all those who are within, and pity\nall those who are without; I would have her a common blessing to the\nworld, an example, if not an instructor, to those who have not the\nhappiness to belong to her; I would have her give a lesson of peace to\nmankind, that a vexed and wandering generation might be taught to seek\nfor repose and toleration in the maternal bosom of Christian charity,\nand not in the harlot lap of infidelity and indifference. Nothing has\ndriven people more into that house of seduction than the mutual hatred\nof Christian congregations. Long may we enjoy our church under a learned\nand edifying episcopacy! But episcopacy may fail, and religion exist.\nThe most horrid and cruel blow that can be offered to civil society is\nthrough atheism. Do not promote diversity; when you have it, bear it;\nhave as many sorts of religion as you find in your country; there is a\nreasonable worship in them all. The others, the infidels, are outlaws of\nthe constitution, not of this country, but of the human race. They are\nnever, never to be supported, never to be tolerated. Under the\nsystematic attacks of these people, I see some of the props of good\ngovernment already begin to fail; I see propagated principles which will\nnot leave to religion even a toleration. I see myself sinking every day\nunder the attacks of these wretched people. How shall I arm myself\nagainst them? By uniting all those in affection, who are united in the\nbelief of the great principles of the Godhead that made and sustains the\nworld. They who hold revelation give double assurance to their country.\nEven the man who does not hold revelation, yet who wishes that it were\nproved to him, who observes a pious silence with regard to it, such a\nman, though not a Christian, is governed by religious principles. Let\nhim be tolerated in this country. Let it be but a serious religion,\nnatural or revealed, take what you can get. Cherish, blow up the\nslightest spark: one day it may be a pure and holy flame. By this\nproceeding you form an alliance offensive and defensive against those\ngreat ministers of darkness in the world who are endeavoring to shake\nall the works of God established in order and beauty.\n\nPerhaps I am carried too far; but it is in the road into which the\nhonorable gentleman has led me. The honorable gentleman would have us\nfight this confederacy of the powers of darkness with the single arm of\nthe Church of England,--would have us not only fight against infidelity,\nbut fight at the same time with all the faith in the world except our\nown. In the moment we make a front against the common enemy, we have to\ncombat with all those who are the natural friends of our cause. Strong\nas we are, we are not equal to this. The cause of the Church of England\nis included in that of religion, not that of religion in the Church of\nEngland. I will stand up at all times for the rights of conscience, as\nit is such,--not for its particular modes against its general\nprinciples. One may be right, another mistaken; but if I have more\nstrength than my brother, it shall be employed to support, not to\noppress his weakness; if I have more light, it shall be used to guide,\nnot to dazzle him....\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON A\n\nMOTION MADE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS BY THE RIGHT HON. C.J. FOX,\n\nMAY 11, 1793,\n\nFOR LEAVE TO BRING IN\n\nA BILL TO REPEAL AND ALTER CERTAIN ACTS RESPECTING RELIGIOUS OPINIONS,\n\nUPON THE OCCASION OF\n\nA PETITION OF THE UNITARIAN SOCIETY\n\n\nI never govern myself, no rational man ever did govern himself, by\nabstractions and universals. I do not put abstract ideas wholly out of\nany question; because I well know that under that name I should dismiss\nprinciples, and that without the guide and light of sound,\nwell-understood principles, all reasonings in politics, as in everything\nelse, would be only a confused jumble of particular facts and details,\nwithout the means of drawing out any sort of theoretical or practical\nconclusion. A statesman differs from a professor in an university: the\nlatter has only the general view of society; the former, the statesman,\nhas a number of circumstances to combine with those general ideas, and\nto take into his consideration. Circumstances are infinite, are\ninfinitely combined, are variable and transient: he who does not take\nthem into consideration is not erroneous, but stark mad; _dat operam ut\ncum ratione insaniat_; he is metaphysically mad. A statesman, never\nlosing sight of principles, is to be guided by circumstances; and\njudging contrary to the exigencies of the moment, he may ruin his\ncountry forever.\n\nI go on this ground,--that government, representing the society, has a\ngeneral superintending control over all the actions and over all the\npublicly propagated doctrines of men, without which it never could\nprovide adequately for all the wants of society: but then it is to use\nthis power with an equitable discretion, the only bond of sovereign\nauthority. For it is not, perhaps, so much by the assumption of unlawful\npowers as by the unwise or unwarrantable use of those which are most\nlegal, that governments oppose their true end and object: for there is\nsuch a thing as tyranny, as well as usurpation. You can hardly state to\nme a case to which legislature is the most confessedly competent, in\nwhich, if the rules of benignity and prudence are not observed, the most\nmischievous and oppressive things may not be done. So that, after all,\nit is a moral and virtuous discretion, and not any abstract theory of\nright, which keeps governments faithful to their ends. Crude,\nunconnected truths are in the world of practice what falsehoods are in\ntheory. A reasonable, prudent, provident, and moderate coercion may be a\nmeans of preventing acts of extreme ferocity and rigor: for by\npropagating excessive and extravagant doctrines, such extravagant\ndisorders take place as require the most perilous and fierce corrections\nto oppose them.\n\nIt is not morally true that we are bound to establish in every country\nthat form of religion which in _our_ minds is most agreeable to truth,\nand conduces most to the eternal happiness of mankind. In the same\nmanner, it is not true that we are, against the conviction of our own\njudgment, to establish a system of opinions and practices directly\ncontrary to those ends, only because some majority of the people, told\nby the head, may prefer it. No conscientious man would willingly\nestablish what he knew to be false and mischievous in religion, or in\nanything else. No wise man, on the contrary, would tyrannically set up\nhis own sense so as to reprobate that of the great prevailing body of\nthe community, and pay no regard to the established opinions and\nprejudices of mankind, or refuse to them the means of securing a\nreligious instruction suitable to these prejudices. A great deal depends\non the state in which you find men....\n\nAn alliance between Church and State in a Christian commonwealth is, in\nmy opinion, an idle and a fanciful speculation. An alliance is between\ntwo things that are in their nature distinct and independent, such as\nbetween two sovereign states. But in a Christian commonwealth the Church\nand the State are one and the, same thing, being different integral\nparts of the same whole. For the Church has been always divided into two\nparts, the clergy and the laity,--of which the laity is as much an\nessential integral part, and has as much its duties and privileges, as\nthe clerical member, and in the rule, order, and government of the\nChurch has its share. Religion is so far, in my opinion, from being out\nof the province or the duty of a Christian magistrate, that it is, and\nit ought to be, not only his care, but the principal thing in his care;\nbecause it is one of the great bonds of human society, and its object\nthe supreme good, the ultimate end and object of man himself. The\nmagistrate, who is a man, and charged with the concerns of men, and to\nwhom very specially nothing human is remote and indifferent, has a right\nand a duty to watch over it with an unceasing vigilance, to protect, to\npromote, to forward it by every rational, just, and prudent means. It is\nprincipally his duty to prevent the abuses which grow out of every\nstrong and efficient principle that actuates the human mind. As\nreligion is one of the bonds of society, he ought not to suffer it to be\nmade the pretext of destroying its peace, order, liberty, and its\nsecurity. Above all, he ought strictly to look to it, when men begin to\nform new combinations, to be distinguished by new names, and especially\nwhen they mingle a political system with their religious opinions, true\nor false, plausible or implausible.\n\nIt is the interest, and it is the duty, and because it is the interest\nand the duty, it is the right of government to attend much to opinions;\nbecause, as opinions soon combine with passions, even when they do not\nproduce them, they have much influence on actions. Factions are formed\nupon opinions, which factions become in effect bodies corporate in the\nstate; nay, factions generate opinions, in order to become a centre of\nunion, and to furnish watchwords to parties; and this may make it\nexpedient for government to forbid things in themselves innocent and\nneutral. I am not fond of defining with precision what the ultimate\nrights of the sovereign supreme power, in providing for the safety of\nthe commonwealth, may be, or may not extend to. It will signify very\nlittle what my notions or what their own notions on the subject may be;\nbecause, according to the exigence, they will take, in fact, the steps\nwhich seem to them necessary for the preservation of the whole: for as\nself-preservation in individuals is the first law of Nature, the same\nwill prevail in societies, who will, right or wrong, make that an object\nparamount to all other rights whatsoever. There are ways and means by\nwhich a good man would not even save the commonwealth.... All things\nfounded on the idea of danger ought in a great degree to be temporary.\nAll policy is very suspicious that sacrifices any part to the ideal good\nof the whole. The object of the state is (as far as may be) the\nhappiness of the whole. Whatever makes multitudes of men utterly\nmiserable can never answer that object; indeed, it contradicts it wholly\nand entirely; and the happiness or misery of mankind, estimated by their\nfeelings and sentiments, and not by any theories of their rights, is,\nand ought to be, the standard for the conduct of legislators towards the\npeople. This naturally and necessarily conducts us to the peculiar and\ncharacteristic situation of a people, and to a knowledge of their\nopinions, prejudices, habits, and all the circumstances that diversify\nand color life. The first question a good statesman would ask himself,\ntherefore, would be, How and in what circumstances do you find the\nsociety? and to act upon them.\n\nTo the other laws relating to other sects I have nothing to say: I only\nlook to the petition which has given rise to this proceeding. I confine\nmyself to that, because in my opinion its merits have little or no\nrelation to that of the other laws which the right honorable gentleman\nhas with so much ability blended with it. With the Catholics, with the\nPresbyterians, with the Anabaptists, with the Independents, with the\nQuakers, I have nothing at all to do. They are in _possession_,--a great\ntitle in all human affairs. The tenor and spirit of our laws, whether\nthey were restraining or whether they were relaxing, have hitherto taken\nanother course. The spirit of our laws has applied their penalty or\ntheir relief to the supposed abuse to be repressed or the grievance to\nbe relieved; and the provision for a Catholic and a Quaker has been\ntotally different, according to his exigence: you did not give a\nCatholic liberty to be freed from an oath, or a Quaker power of saying\nmass with impunity. You have done this, because you never have laid it\ndown as an universal proposition, as a maxim, that nothing relative to\nreligion was your concern, but the direct contrary; and therefore you\nhave always examined whether there was a grievance. It has been so at\nall times: the legislature, whether right or wrong, went no other way to\nwork but by circumstances, times, and necessities. My mind marches the\nsame road; my school is the practice and usage of Parliament.\n\nOld religious factions are volcanoes burnt out; on the lava and ashes\nand squalid scori\u00e6 of old eruptions grow the peaceful olive, the\ncheering vine, and the sustaining corn. Such was the first, such the\nsecond condition of Vesuvius. But when a now fire bursts out, a face of\ndesolations comes on, not to be rectified in ages. Therefore, when men\ncome before us, and rise up like an exhalation from the ground, they\ncome in a questionable shape, and we must _exorcise_ them, and try\nwhether their intents be wicked or charitable, whether they bring airs\nfrom heaven or blasts from hell. This is the first time that our records\nof Parliament have heard, or our experience or history given us an\naccount of any religious congregation or association known by the name\nwhich these petitioners have assumed. We are now to see by what people,\nof what character, and under what temporary circumstances, this business\nis brought before you. We are to see whether there be any and what\nmixture of political dogmas and political practices with their religious\ntenets, of what nature they are, and how far they are at present\npractically separable from them. This faction (the authors of the\npetition) are not confined to a _theological_ sect, but are also a\n_political_ faction. 1st, As theological, we are to show that they do\nnot aim at the quiet enjoyment of their own liberty, but are\n_associated_ for the express purpose of proselytism. In proof of this\nfirst proposition, read their primary association. 2nd, That their\npurpose of proselytism is to collect a multitude sufficient by force and\nviolence to overturn the Church. In proof of the second proposition, see\nthe letter of Priestley to Mr. Pitt, and extracts from his works. 3rd,\nThat the designs against the Church are concurrent with a design to\nsubvert the State. In proof of the third proposition, read the\nadvertisement of the Unitarian Society for celebrating the 14th of July.\n4th, On what _model_ they intend to build,--that it is the _French_. In\nproof of the fourth proposition, read the correspondence of the\nRevolution Society with the clubs of France, read Priestley's adherence\nto their opinions. 5th, What the _French_ is with regard to religious\ntoleration, and with regard to, 1. Religion,--2. Civil happiness,--3.\nVirtue, order, and real liberty,--4. Commercial opulence,--5. National\ndefence. In proof of the fifth proposition, read the representation of\nthe French minister of the Home Department, and the report of the\ncommittee upon it.\n\nFormerly, when the superiority of two parties contending for dogmas and\nan establishment was the question, we knew in such a contest the whole\nof the evil. We knew, for instance, that Calvinism would prevail\naccording to the Westminster Catechism with regard to _tenets_. We knew\nthat Presbytery would prevail in _church government_. But we do not\nknow what opinions would prevail, if the present Dissenters should\nbecome masters. They will not tell us their present opinions; and one\nprinciple of modern Dissent is, not to discover them. Next, as their\nreligion, is in a continual fluctuation, and is so by principle and in\nprofession, it is impossible for us to know what it will be. If religion\nonly related to the individual, and was a question between God and the\nconscience, it would not be wise, nor in my opinion equitable, for human\nauthority to step in. But when religion is embodied into faction, and\nfactions have objects to pursue, it will and must, more or less, become\na question of power between them. If even, when embodied into\ncongregations, they limited their principle to their own congregations,\nand were satisfied themselves to abstain from what they thought\nunlawful, it would be cruel, in my opinion, to molest them in that\ntenet, and a consequent practice. But we know that they not only\nentertain these opinions, but entertain them with a zeal for propagating\nthem by force, and employing the power of law and place to destroy\nestablishments, if ever they should come to power sufficient to effect\ntheir purpose: that is, in other words, they declare they would\npersecute the heads of our Church; and the question is, whether you\nshould keep them within the bounds of toleration, or subject yourself to\ntheir persecution.\n\nA bad and very censurable practice it is to warp doubtful and ambiguous\nexpressions to a perverted sense, which makes the charge not the crime\nof others, but the construction of your own malice; nor is it allowed to\ndraw conclusions from allowed premises, which those who lay down the\npremises utterly deny, and disown as their conclusions. For this,\nthough it may possibly be good logic, cannot by any possibility\nwhatsoever be a fair or charitable representation of any man or any set\nof men. It may show the erroneous nature of principles, but it argues\nnothing as to dispositions and intentions. Far be such a mode from me! A\nmean and unworthy jealousy it would be to do anything upon, the mere\nspeculative apprehension of what men will do. But let us pass by _our_\nopinions concerning the danger of the Church. What do the gentlemen\nthemselves think of that danger? They from, whom the danger is\napprehended, what do they declare to be their own designs? What do they\nconceive to be their own forces? And what do they proclaim to be their\nmeans? Their designs they declare to be to destroy the Established\nChurch; and not to set up a new one of their own. See Priestley. If they\nshould find the State stick to the Church, the question is, whether they\nlove the constitution in _State_ so well as that they would not destroy\nthe constitution of the State in order to destroy that of the Church.\nMost certainly they do not.\n\nThe foundations on which obedience to governments is founded are not to\nbe constantly discussed. That we are here supposes the discussion\nalready made and the dispute settled. We must assume the rights of what\nrepresents the public to control the individual, to make his will and\nhis acts to submit to their will, until some intolerable grievance shall\nmake us know that it does not answer its end, and will submit neither to\nreformation nor restraint. Otherwise we should dispute all the points of\nmorality, before we can punish a murderer, robber, and adulterer; we\nshould analyze all society. Dangers by being despised grow great; so\nthey do by absurd provision against them. _Stulti est dixisse, Non\nput\u00e2ram_. Whether an early discovery of evil designs, an early\ndeclaration, and an early precaution against them be more wise than to\nstifle all inquiry about them, for fear they should declare themselves\nmore early than otherwise they would, and therefore precipitate the\nevil,--all this depends on the reality of the danger. Is it only an\nunbookish jealousy, as Shakspeare calls it? It is a question of fact.\nDoes a design against the Constitution of this country exist? If it\ndoes, and if it is carried on with increasing vigor and activity by a\nrestless faction, and if it receives countenance by the most ardent and\nenthusiastic applauses of its object in the great council of this\nkingdom, by men of the first parts which this kingdom produces, perhaps\nby the first it has ever produced, can I think that there is no danger?\nIf there be danger, must there be no precaution at all against it? If\nyou ask whether I think the danger urgent and immediate, I answer, Thank\nGod, I do not. The body of the people is yet sound, the Constitution is\nin their hearts, while wicked men are endeavoring to put another into\ntheir heads. But if I see the very same beginnings which have commonly\nended in great calamities, I ought to act as if they might produce the\nvery same effects. Early and provident fear is the mother of safety;\nbecause in that state of things the mind is firm and collected, and the\njudgment unembarrassed. But when the fear and the evil feared come on\ntogether, and press at once upon us, deliberation itself is ruinous,\nwhich saves upon all other occasions; because, when perils are instant,\nit delays decision: the man is in a flutter, and in a hurry, and his\njudgment is gone,--as the judgment of the deposed King of France and his\nministers was gone, if the latter did not premeditately betray him. He\nwas just come from his usual amusement of hunting, when the head of the\ncolumn of treason and assassination was arrived at his house. Let not\nthe king, let not the Prince of Wales, be surprised in this manner. Let\nnot both Houses of Parliament be led in triumph along with him, and have\nlaw dictated to them, by the Constitutional, the Revolution, and the\nUnitarian Societies. These insect reptiles, whilst they go on only\ncaballing and toasting, only fill us with disgust; if they get above\ntheir natural size, and increase the quantity whilst they keep the\nquality of their venom, they become objects of the greatest terror. A\nspider in his natural size is only a spider, ugly and loathsome; and his\nflimsy net is only fit for catching flies. But, good God! suppose a\nspider as large as an ox, and that he spread cables about us, all the\nwilds of Africa would not produce anything so dreadful:--\n\n    Quale portentum neque militaris\n    Daunia in latis alit esculetis,\n    Nec Jub\u00e6 tellus generat, leonum\n        Arida nutrix.\n\nThink of them who dare menace in the way they do in their present state,\nwhat would they do, if they had power commensurate to their malice? God\nforbid I ever should have a despotic master!--but if I must, my choice\nis made. I will have Louis the Sixteenth rather than Monsieur Bailly, or\nBrissot, or Chabot,--rather George the Third, or George the Fourth,\nthan. Dr. Priestley, or Dr. Kippis,--persons who would not load a\ntyrannous power by the poisoned taunts of a vulgar, low-bred insolence.\nI hope we have still spirit enough to keep us from the one or the other.\nThe contumelies of tyranny are the worst parts of it.\n\nBut if the danger be existing in reality, and silently maturing itself\nto our destruction, what! is it not better to take _treason_ unprepared\nthan that _treason_ should come by surprise upon us and take us\nunprepared? If we must have a conflict, let us have it with all our\nforces fresh about us, with our government in full function and full\nstrength, our troops uncorrupted, our revenues in the legal hands, our\narsenals filled and possessed by government,--and not wait till the\nconspirators met to commemorate the 14th of July shall seize on the\nTower of London and the magazines it contains, murder the governor, and\nthe mayor of London, seize upon the king's person, drive out the House\nof Lords, occupy your gallery, and thence, as from an high tribunal,\ndictate to you. The degree of danger is not only from the circumstances\nwhich threaten, but from the value of the objects which are threatened.\nA small danger menacing an inestimable object is of more importance than\nthe greatest perils which regard one that is indifferent to us. The\nwhole question of the danger depends upon facts. The first fact is,\nwhether those who sway in France at present confine themselves to the\nregulation of their internal affairs,--or whether upon system they\nnourish cabals in all other countries, to extend their power by\nproducing revolutions similar to their own. 2. The next is, whether we\nhave any cabals formed or forming within these kingdoms, to co\u00f6perate\nwith them for the destruction of our Constitution. On the solution of\nthese two questions, joined with our opinion of the value of the object\nto be affected by their machinations, the justness of our alarm and the\nnecessity of our vigilance must depend. Every private conspiracy, every\nopen attack upon the laws, is dangerous. One robbery is an alarm to all\nproperty; else I am sure we exceed measure in our punishment. As\nrobberies increase in number and audacity, the alarm increases. These\nwretches are at war with us upon principle. They hold this government to\nbe an usurpation. See the language of the Department.\n\nThe whole question is on the _reality_ of the danger. Is it such a\ndanger as would justify that fear _qui cadere potest in hominem\nconstantem et non metuentem_? This is the fear which the principles of\njurisprudence declare to be a lawful and justifiable fear. When a man\nthreatens my life openly and publicly, I may demand from him securities\nof the peace. When every act of a man's life manifests such a design\nstronger than by words, even though he does not make such a declaration,\nI am justified in being on my guard. They are of opinion that they are\nalready one fifth of the kingdom. If so, their force is naturally not\ncontemptible. To say that in all contests the decision will of course be\nin favor of the greater number is by no means true in fact. For, first,\nthe greater number is generally composed of men of sluggish tempers,\nslow to act, and unwilling to attempt, and, by being in possession, are\nso disposed to peace that they are unwilling to take early and vigorous\nmeasures for their defence, and they are almost always caught\nunprepared:--\n\n    Nec co\u00efere pares: alter vergentibus annis\n    In senium, longoque tog\u00e6 tranquillior usu.\n    Dedidicit jam pace ducem;...\n    Nec reparare novas vires, multumque priori\n    Credere fortun\u00e6: stat magni nominis umbra.[1]\n\nA smaller number, more expedite, awakened, active, vigorous, and\ncourageous, who make amends for what they want in weight by their\nsuperabundance of velocity, will create an acting power of the greatest\npossible strength. When men are furiously and fanatically fond of an\nobject, they will prefer it, as is well known, to their own peace, to\ntheir own property, and to their own lives: and can there be a doubt, in\nsuch a case, that they would prefer it to the peace of their country? Is\nit to be doubted, that, if they have not strength enough at home, they\nwill call in foreign force to aid them?\n\nWould you deny them _what is reasonable_, for fear they should?\nCertainly not. It would be barbarous to pretend to look into the minds\nof men. I would go further: it would not be just even to trace\nconsequences from principles which, though evident to me, were denied by\nthem. Let them disband as a faction, and let them act as individuals,\nand when I see them with no other views than to enjoy their own\nconscience in peace, I, for one, shall most cheerfully vote for their\nrelief.\n\nA tender conscience, of all things, ought to be tenderly handled; for if\nyou do not, you injure not only the conscience, but the whole moral\nframe and constitution is injured, recurring at times to remorse, and\nseeking refuge only in making the conscience callous. But the conscience\nof faction,--the conscience of sedition,--the conscience of conspiracy,\nwar, and confusion....\n\nWhether anything be proper to be denied, which is right in itself,\nbecause it may lead to the demand of others which it is improper to\ngrant? Abstractedly speaking, there can be no doubt that this question\nought to be decided in the negative. But as no moral questions are ever\nabstract questions, this, before I judge upon any abstract proposition,\nmust be embodied in circumstances; for, since things are right or wrong,\nmorally speaking, only by their relation and connection with other\nthings, this very question of what it is politically right to grant\ndepends upon this relation to its effects. It is the direct office of\nwisdom to look to the consequences of the acts we do: if it be not this,\nit is worth nothing, it is out of place and of function, and a downright\nfool is as capable of government as Charles Fox. A man desires a sword:\nwhy should he be refused? A sword is a means of defence, and defence is\nthe natural right of man,--nay, the first of all his rights, and which\ncomprehends them all. But if I know that the sword desired is to be\nemployed to cut my own throat, common sense, and my own self-defence,\ndictate to me to keep out of his hands this natural right of the sword.\nBut whether this denial be wise or foolish, just or unjust, prudent or\ncowardly, depends entirely on the state of the man's means. A man may\nhave very ill dispositions, and yet be so very weak as to make all\nprecaution foolish. See whether this be the case of these Dissenters, as\nto their designs, as to their means, numbers, activity, zeal, foreign\nassistance.\n\nThe first question, to be decided, when we talk of the Church's being in\ndanger from any particular measure, is, whether the danger to the Church\nis a public evil: for to those who think that the national Church\nEstablishment is itself a national grievance, to desire them to forward\nor to resist any measure, upon account of its conducing to the safety of\nthe Church or averting its danger, would be to the last degree absurd.\nIf you have reason to think thus of it, take the reformation instantly\ninto your own hands, whilst you are yet cool, and can do it in measure\nand proportion, and not under the influence of election tests and\npopular fury. But here I assume that by far the greater number of those\nwho compose the House are of opinion that this national Church\nEstablishment is a great national benefit, a great public blessing, and\nthat its existence or its non-existence of course is a thing by no means\nindifferent to the public welfare: then to them its danger or its safety\nmust enter deeply into every question which has a relation to it. It is\nnot because ungrounded alarms have been given that there never can exist\na real danger: perhaps the worst effect of an ungrounded alarm is to\nmake people insensible to the approach of a real peril. Quakerism is\nstrict, methodical, in its nature highly aristocratical, and so regular\nthat it has brought the whole community to the condition of one family;\nbut it does not actually interfere with the government. The principle of\nyour petitioners is no passive conscientious dissent, on account of an\nover-scrupulous habit of mind: the dissent on their part is fundamental,\ngoes to the very root; and it is at issue not upon this rite or that\nceremony, on this or that school opinion, but upon this one question of\nan Establishment, as unchristian, unlawful, contrary to the Gospel and\nto natural right, Popish and idolatrous. These are the principles\nviolently and fanatically held and pursued,--taught to their children,\nwho are sworn at the altar like Hannibal. The war is with the\nEstablishment itself,--no quarter, no compromise. As a party, they are\ninfinitely mischievous: see the declarations of Priestley and\nPrice,--declarations, you will say, of _hot_ men. Likely enough: but who\nare the _cool_ men who have disclaimed them? Not one,--no, not one.\nWhich of them has ever told you that they do not mean to _destroy the\nChurch_, if ever it should be in their power? Which of them has told you\nthat this would not be the first and favorite use of any power they\nshould get? Not one,--no, not one. Declarations of hot men! The danger\nis thence, that they are under the _conduct_ of hot men: _falsos in\namore odia non fingere_.\n\nThey say they are well affected to the State, and mean only to destroy\nthe Church. If this be the utmost of their meaning, you must first\nconsider whether you wish your Church Establishment to be destroyed. If\nyou do, you had much better do it now in temper, in a grave, moderate,\nand parliamentary way. But if you think otherwise, and that you think it\nto be an invaluable blessing, a way fully sufficient to nourish a manly,\nrational, solid, and at the same time humble piety,--if you find it well\nfitted to the frame and pattern of your civil constitution,--if you find\nit a barrier against fanaticism, infidelity, and atheism,--if you find\nthat it furnishes support to the human mind in the afflictions and\ndistresses of the world, consolation in sickness, pain, poverty, and\ndeath,--if it dignifies our nature with the hope of immortality, leaves\ninquiry free, whilst it preserves an authority to teach, where authority\nonly can teach, _communia altaria, \u00e6que ac patriam, diligite, colite,\nfovete_.\n\nIn the discussion of this subject which took place in the year 1790, Mr.\nBurke declared his intention, in case the motion for repealing the Test\nActs had been agreed to, of proposing to substitute the following test\nin the room of what was intended to be repealed:--\n\n\"I, _A.B._, do, in the presence of God, sincerely profess and believe\nthat a religious establishment in this state is not contrary to the law\nof God, or disagreeable to the law of Nature, or to the true principles\nof the Christian religion, or that it is noxious to the community; and I\ndo sincerely promise and engage, before God, that I never will, by any\nconspiracy, contrivance, or political device whatever, attempt, or abet\nothers in any attempt, to subvert the constitution of the Church of\nEngland, as the same is now by law established, and that I will not\nemploy any power or influence which I may derive from any office\ncorporate, or any other office which I hold or shall hold under his\nMajesty, his heirs and successors, to destroy and subvert the same, or\nto cause members to be elected into any corporation or into Parliament,\ngive my vote in the election of any member or members of Parliament, or\ninto any office, for or on account of their attachment to any other or\ndifferent religious opinions or establishments, or with any hope that\nthey may promote the same to the prejudice of the Established Church,\nbut will dutifully and peaceably content myself with my private liberty\nof conscience, as the same is allowed by law. So help me God.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Lucan, I. 129 to 135.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nTHE MOTION MADE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS,\n\nFEBRUARY 7, 1771,\n\nRELATIVE TO\n\nTHE MIDDLESEX ELECTION.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThe motion supported in the following Speech, which was for leave to\nbring in a bill to ascertain the rights of the electors in respect to\nthe eligibility of persons to serve in Parliament, was rejected by a\nmajority of 167 against 103.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH.\n\n\nIn every complicated constitution (and every free constitution is\ncomplicated) cases will arise when the several orders of the state will\nclash with one another, and disputes will arise about the limits of\ntheir several rights and privileges. It may be almost impossible to\nreconcile them....\n\nCarry the principle on by which you expelled Mr. Wilkes, there is not a\nman in the House, hardly a man in the nation, who may not be\ndisqualified. That this House should have no power of expulsion is an\nhard saying: that this House should have a general discretionary power\nof disqualification is a dangerous saying. That the people should not\nchoose their own representative is a saying that shakes the\nConstitution: that this House should name the representative is a saying\nwhich, followed by practice, subverts the Constitution. They have the\nright of electing; you have a right of expelling: they of choosing; you\nof judging, and only of judging, of the choice. What bounds shall be set\nto the freedom of that choice? Their right is prior to ours: we all\noriginate there. They are the mortal enemies of the House of Commons who\nwould persuade them to think or to act as if they were a self-originated\nmagistracy, independent of the people, and unconnected with their\nopinions and feelings. Under a pretence of exalting the dignity, they\nundermine the very foundations of this House. When the question is asked\n_here_, What disturbs the people? whence all this clamor? we apply to\nthe Treasury bench, and they tell us it is from the efforts of\nlibellers, and the wickedness of the people: a worn-out ministerial\npretence. If abroad the people are deceived by popular, within we are\ndeluded by ministerial cant.\n\nThe question amounts to this: Whether you mean to be a legal tribunal,\nor an arbitrary and despotic assembly? I see and I feel the delicacy and\ndifficulty of the ground upon which we stand in this question. I could\nwish, indeed, that they who advise the crown had not left Parliament in\nthis very ungraceful distress, in which they can neither retract with\ndignity nor persist with justice. Another Parliament might have\nsatisfied the people without lowering themselves. But our situation is\nnot in our own choice: our conduct in that situation is all that is in\nour own option. The substance of the question is, to put bounds to your\nown power by the rules and principles of law. This is, I am sensible, a\ndifficult thing to the corrupt, grasping, and ambitious part of human\nnature. But the very difficulty argues and enforces the necessity of it.\nFirst, because the greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse.\nSince the Revolution, at least, the power of the nation has all flowed\nwith a full tide into the House of Commons. Secondly, because the House\nof Commons, as it is the most powerful, is the most corruptible part of\nthe whole Constitution. Our public wounds cannot be concealed; to be\ncured, they must be laid open. The public does think we are a corrupt\nbody. In our _legislative capacity_, we are, in most instances,\nesteemed a very wise body; in our judicial, we have no credit, no\ncharacter at all. Our judgments stink in the nostrils of the people.\nThey think us to be not only without virtue, but without shame.\nTherefore the greatness of our power, and the great and just opinion of\nour corruptibility and our corruption, render it necessary to fix some\nbound, to plant some landmark, which we are never to exceed. This is\nwhat the bill proposes.\n\nFirst, on this head, I lay it down as a fundamental rule in the law and\nConstitution of this country, that this House has not by itself alone a\nlegislative authority in any case whatsoever. I know that the contrary\nwas the doctrine of the usurping House of Commons, which threw down the\nfences and bulwarks of law, which annihilated first the lords, then the\ncrown, then its constituents. But the first thing that was done on the\nrestoration of the Constitution was to settle this point. Secondly, I\nlay it down as a rule, that the power of occasional incapacitation, on\ndiscretionary grounds, is a legislative power. In order to establish\nthis principle, if it should not be sufficiently proved by being stated,\ntell me what are the criteria, the characteristics, by which you\ndistinguish between a legislative and a juridical act. It will be\nnecessary to state, shortly, the difference between a legislative and a\njuridical act.\n\nA legislative act has no reference to any rule but these two,--original\njustice, and discretionary application. Therefore it can give\nrights,--rights where no rights existed before; and it can take away\nrights where they were before established. For the law, which binds all\nothers, does not and cannot bind the law-maker: he, and he alone, is\nabove the law. But a judge, a person exercising a judicial capacity, is\nneither to apply to original justice nor to a discretionary application\nof it. He goes to justice and discretion only at second hand, and\nthrough the medium of some superiors. He is to work neither upon his\nopinion of the one nor of the other, but upon a fixed rule, of which he\nhas not the making, but singly and solely the _application_ to the case.\n\nThe power assumed by the House neither is nor can be judicial power\nexercised according to known law. The properties of law are, first, that\nit should be known; secondly, that it should be fixed, and not\noccasional. First, this power cannot be according to the first property\nof law; because no man does or can know it, nor do you yourselves know\nupon what grounds you will vote the incapacity of any man. No man in\nWestminster Hall, or in any court upon earth, will say that is law, upon\nwhich, if a man going to his counsel should say to him, \"What is my\ntenure in law of this estate?\" he would answer, \"Truly, Sir, I know not;\nthe court has no rule but its own discretion; they will determine.\" It\nis not a fixed law; because you profess you vary it according to the\noccasion, exercise it according to your discretion, no man can call for\nit as a right. It is argued, that the incapacity is not originally\nvoted, but a consequence of a power of expulsion. But if you expel, not\nupon legal, but upon arbitrary, that is, upon discretionary grounds, and\nthe incapacity is _ex vi termini_ and inclusively comprehended in the\nexpulsion, is not the incapacity voted in the expulsion? Are they not\nconvertible terms? And if incapacity is voted to be inherent in\nexpulsion, if expulsion be arbitrary, incapacity is arbitrary also. I\nhave therefore shown that the power of incapacitation is a legislative\npower; I have shown that legislative power does not belong to the House\nof Commons; and therefore it follows that the House of Commons has not a\npower of incapacitation.\n\nI know not the origin of the House of Commons, but am very sure that it\ndid not create itself; the electors were prior to the elected, whose\nrights originated either from the people at large, or from some other\nform of legislature, which never could intend for the chosen a power of\nsuperseding the choosers.\n\nIf you have not a power of declaring an incapacity simply by the mere\nact of declaring it, it is evident to the most ordinary reason you\ncannot have a right of expulsion, inferring, or rather including, an\nincapacity. For as the law, when it gives any direct right, gives also\nas necessary incidents all the means of acquiring the possession of that\nright, so, where it does not give a right directly, it refuses all the\nmeans by which such a right may by any mediums be exercised, or in\neffect be indirectly acquired. Else it is very obvious that the\nintention of the law in refusing that right might be entirely\nfrustrated, and the whole power of the legislature baffled. If there be\nno certain, invariable rule of eligibility, it were better to get\nsimplicity, if certainty is not to be had, and to resolve all the\nfranchises of the subject into this one short proposition,--the will and\npleasure of the House of Commons.\n\nThe argument drawn from the courts of law applying the principles of law\nto new cases as they emerge is altogether frivolous, inapplicable, and\narises from a total ignorance of the bounds between civil and criminal\njurisdiction, and of the separate maxims that govern these two\nprovinces of law, that are eternally separate. Undoubtedly the courts of\nlaw, where a new case comes before them, as they do every hour, then,\nthat there may be no defect in justice, call in similar principles, and\nthe example of the nearest determination, and do everything to draw the\nlaw to as near a conformity to general equity and right reason as they\ncan bring it with its being a fixed principle. _Boni judicis est\nampliare justitiam_,--that is, to make open and liberal justice. But in\ncriminal matters this parity of reason and these analogies ever have\nbeen and ever ought to be shunned.\n\nWhatever is incident to a court of judicature is necessary to the House\nof Commons as judging in elections. But a power of making incapacities\nis not necessary to a court of judicature: therefore a power of making\nincapacities is not necessary to the House of Commons.\n\nIncapacity, declared by whatever authority, stands upon two principles:\nfirst, an incapacity arising from the supposed incongruity of two duties\nin the commonwealth; secondly, an incapacity arising from unfitness by\ninfirmity of nature or the criminality of conduct. As to the first class\nof incapacities, they have no _hardship_ annexed to them. The persons so\nincapacitated are paid by one dignity for what they abandon in another,\nand for the most part the situation arises from their own choice. But as\nto the second, arising from an unfitness not fixed by Nature, but\nsuperinduced by some positive acts, or arising from honorable motives,\nsuch as an occasional personal disability, of all things it ought to be\ndefined by the fixed rule of law, what Lord Coke calls the golden\nmetwand of the law, and not by the crooked cord of discretion. Whatever\nis general is better borne. We take our common lot with men of the same\ndescription. But to be selected and marked out by a particular brand of\nunworthiness among our fellow-citizens is a lot of all others the\nhardest to be borne, and consequently is of all others that act winch\nought only to be trusted to the legislature, as not only _legislative_\nin its nature, but of all parts of legislature the most odious. The\nquestion is over, if this is shown not to be a legislative act.\n\nBut what is very usual and natural is, to corrupt judicature into\nlegislature. On this point it is proper to inquire whether a court of\njudicature which decides without appeal has it as a necessary incident\nof such judicature, that whatever it decides is _de jure_ law. Nobody\nwill, I hope, assert this; because the direct consequence would be the\nentire extinction of the difference between true and false judgments.\nFor if the judgment makes the law, and not the law directs the judgment,\nit is impossible there should be such a thing as an illegal judgment\ngiven.\n\nBut instead of standing upon this ground, they introduce another\nquestion wholly foreign to it: Whether it ought not to be submitted to\nas if it were law? And then the question is,--By the Constitution of\nthis country, what degree of submission is due to the authoritative acts\nof a limited power? This question of submission, determine it how you\nplease, has nothing to do in this discussion and in this House. Here it\nis not, how long the people are bound to tolerate the illegality of our\njudgments, but whether we have a right to substitute our occasional\nopinion in the place of law, so as to deprive the citizen of his\nfranchise....\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nA BILL FOR SHORTENING THE DURATION OF PARLIAMENTS.\n\nMAY 8, 1780.\n\n\nIt is always to be lamented, when men are driven to search into the\nfoundations of the commonwealth. It is certainly necessary to resort to\nthe theory of your government, whenever you propose any alteration in\nthe frame of it,--whether that alteration means the revival of some\nformer antiquated and forsaken constitution of state, or the\nintroduction of some new improvement in the commonwealth. The object of\nour deliberation is, to promote the good purposes for which elections\nhave been instituted, and to prevent their inconveniences. If we thought\nfrequent elections attended with no inconvenience, or with but a\ntrifling inconvenience, the strong overruling principle of the\nConstitution would sweep us like a torrent towards them. But your remedy\nis to be suited to your disease, your present disease, and to your whole\ndisease. That man thinks much too highly, and therefore he thinks weakly\nand delusively, of any contrivance of human wisdom, who believes that it\ncan make any sort of approach to perfection. There is not, there never\nwas, a principle of government under heaven, that does not, in the very\npursuit of the good it proposes, naturally and inevitably lead into some\ninconvenience which makes it absolutely necessary to counterwork and\nweaken the application of that first principle itself, and to abandon\nsomething of the extent of the advantage you proposed by it, in order\nto prevent also the inconveniences which have arisen from the instrument\nof all the good you had in view.\n\nTo govern according to the sense and agreeably to the interests of the\npeople is a great and glorious object of government. This object cannot\nbe obtained but through the medium of popular election; and popular\nelection is a mighty evil. It is such and so great an evil, that, though\nthere are few nations whose monarchs were not originally elective, very\nfew are now elected. They are the distempers of elections that have\ndestroyed all free states. To cure these distempers is difficult, if not\nimpossible; the only thing, therefore, left to save the commonwealth is,\nto prevent their return too frequently. The objects in view are, to have\nParliaments as frequent as they can be without distracting them in the\nprosecution of public business: on one hand, to secure their dependence\nupon the people; on the other, to give them that quiet in their minds\nand that ease in their fortunes as to enable them to perform the most\narduous and most painful duty in the world with spirit, with efficiency,\nwith independency, and with experience, as real public counsellors, not\nas the canvassers at a perpetual election. It is wise to compass as many\ngood ends as possibly you can, and, seeing there are inconveniences on\nboth sides, with benefits on both, to give up a part of the benefit to\nsoften the inconvenience. The perfect cure is impracticable; because the\ndisorder is dear to those from whom alone the cure can possibly be\nderived. The utmost to be done is to palliate, to mitigate, to respite,\nto put off the evil day of the Constitution to its latest possible\nhour,--and may it be a very late one!\n\nThis bill, I fear, would precipitate one of two consequences,--I know\nnot which most likely, or which most dangerous: either that the crown,\nby its constant, stated power, influence, and revenue, would wear out\nall opposition in elections, or that a violent and furious popular\nspirit would arise. I must see, to satisfy me, the remedies; I must see,\nfrom their operation in the cure of the old evil, and in the cure of\nthose new evils which are inseparable from all remedies, how they\nbalance each other, and what is the total result. The excellence of\nmathematics and metaphysics is, to have but one thing before you; but he\nforms the best judgment in all moral disquisitions who has the greatest\nnumber and variety of considerations in one view before him, and can\ntake them in with the best possible consideration of the middle results\nof all.\n\nWe of the opposition, who are not friends to the bill, give this pledge\nat least of our integrity and sincerity to the people,--that in our\nsituation of systematic opposition to the present ministers, in which\nall our hope of rendering it effectual depends upon popular interest and\nfavor, we will not flatter them by a surrender of our uninfluenced\njudgment and opinion; we give a security, that, if ever we should be in\nanother situation, no flattery to any other sort of power and influence\nwould induce us to act against the true interests of the people.\n\nAll are agreed that Parliaments should not be perpetual; the only\nquestion is, What is the most convenient time for their duration?--on\nwhich there are three opinions. We are agreed, too, that the term ought\nnot to be chosen most likely in its operation to spread corruption, and\nto augment the already overgrown influence of the crown. On these\nprinciples I mean to debate the question. It is easy to pretend a zeal\nfor liberty. Those who think themselves not likely to be incumbered with\nthe performance of their promises, either from their known inability or\ntotal indifference about the performance, never fail to entertain the\nmost lofty ideas. They are certainly the most specious; and they cost\nthem neither reflection to frame, nor pains to modify, nor management to\nsupport. The task is of another nature to those who mean to promise\nnothing that it is not in their intention, or may possibly be in their\npower to perform,--to those who are bound and principled no more to\ndelude the understandings than to violate the liberty of their\nfellow-subjects. Faithful watchmen we ought to be over the rights and\nprivileges of the people. But our duty, if we are qualified for it as we\nought, is to give them information, and not to receive it from them: we\nare not to go to school to them, to learn the principles of law and\ngovernment. In doing so, we should not dutifully serve, but we should\nbasely and scandalously betray the people, who are not capable of this\nservice by nature, nor in any instance called to it by the Constitution.\nI reverentially look up to the opinion of the people, and with an awe\nthat is almost superstitious. I should be ashamed to show my face before\nthem, if I changed my ground as they cried up or cried down men or\nthings or opinions,--if I wavered and shifted about with every change,\nand joined in it or opposed as best answered any low interest or\npassion,--if I held them up hopes which I knew I never intended, or\npromised what I well knew I could not perform. Of all these things they\nare perfect sovereign judges without appeal; but as to the detail of\nparticular measures, or to any general schemes of policy, they have\nneither enough of speculation in the closet nor of experience in\nbusiness to decide upon it. They can well see whether we are tools of a\ncourt or their honest servants. Of that they can well judge,--and I wish\nthat they always exercised their judgment; but of the particular merits\nof a measure I have other standards....\n\nThat the frequency of elections proposed by this bill has a tendency to\nincrease the power and consideration of the electors, not lessen\ncorruptibility, I do most readily allow: so far it is desirable. This is\nwhat it has: I will tell you now what it has not. 1st. It has no sort of\ntendency to increase their integrity and public spirit, unless an\nincrease of power has an operation upon voters in elections, that it has\nin no other situation in the world, and upon no other part of mankind.\n2nd. This bill has no tendency to limit the quantity of influence in the\ncrown, to render its operation more difficult, or to counteract that\noperation which it cannot prevent in any way whatsoever. It has its full\nweight, its full range, and its uncontrolled operation on the electors\nexactly as it had before. 3rd. Nor, thirdly, does it abate the interest\nor inclination of ministers to apply that influence to the electors: on\nthe contrary, it renders it much more necessary to them, if they seek to\nhave a majority in Parliament, to increase the means of that influence,\nand redouble their diligence, and to sharpen dexterity in the\napplication. The whole effect of the bill is, therefore, the removing\nthe application of some part of the influence from the elected to the\nelectors, and further to strengthen and extend a court interest already\ngreat and powerful in boroughs: here to fix their magazines and places\nof arms, and thus to make them the principal, not the secondary, theatre\nof their manoeuvres for securing a determined majority in Parliament.\n\nI believe nobody will deny that the electors are corruptible. They are\nmen,--it is saying nothing worse of them; many of them are but ill\ninformed in their minds, many feeble in their circumstances, easily\noverreached, easily seduced. If they are many, the wages of corruption\nare the lower; and would to God it were not rather a contemptible and\nhypocritical adulation than a charitable sentiment, to say that there is\nalready no debauchery, no corruption, no bribery, no perjury, no blind\nfury and interested faction among the electors in many parts of this\nkingdom!--nor is it surprising, or at all blamable, in that class of\nprivate men, when they see their neighbors aggrandized, and themselves\npoor and virtuous without that _\u00e9clat_ or dignity which attends men in\nhigher situations.\n\nBut admit it were true that the great mass of the electors were too vast\nan object for court influence to grasp or extend to, and that in despair\nthey must abandon it; he must be very ignorant of the state of every\npopular interest, who does not know that in all the corporations, all\nthe open boroughs, indeed in every district of the kingdom, there is\nsome leading man, some agitator, some wealthy merchant or considerable\nmanufacturer, some active attorney, some popular preacher, some\nmoney-lender, _&c., &c.,_ who is followed by the whole flock. This is\nthe style of all free countries.\n\n        Multum in Fabi\u00e2 valet hic, valet ille Velin\u00e2;\n    Cuilibet hic fasces dabit, eripietque curule.\n\nThese spirits, each of which informs and governs his own little orb, are\nneither so many, nor so little powerful, nor so incorruptible, but that\na minister may, as he does frequently, find means of gaining them, and\nthrough, them all their followers. To establish, therefore, a very\ngeneral influence among electors will no more be found an impracticable\nproject than to gain an undue influence over members of Parliament.\nTherefore I am apprehensive that this bill, though it shifts the place\nof the disorder, does by no means relieve the Constitution. I went\nthrough almost every contested election in the beginning of this\nParliament, and acted as a manager in very many of them; by which,\nthough as at a school of pretty severe and rugged discipline, I came to\nhave some degree of instruction concerning the means by which\nParliamentary interests are in general procured and supported.\n\nTheory, I know, would suppose that every general election is to the\nrepresentative a day of judgment, in which he appears before his\nconstituents to account for the use of the talent with which they\nintrusted him, and for the improvement he has made of it for the public\nadvantage. It would be so, if every corruptible representative were to\nfind an enlightened and incorruptible constituent. But the practice and\nknowledge of the world will not suffer us to be ignorant that the\nConstitution on paper is one thing, and in fact and experience is\nanother. We must know that the candidate, instead of trusting at his\nelection to the testimony of his behavior in Parliament, must bring the\ntestimony of a large sum of money, the capacity of liberal expense in\nentertainments, the power of serving and obliging the rulers of\ncorporations, of winning over the popular leaders of political clubs,\nassociations, and neighborhoods. It is ten thousand times more necessary\nto show himself a man of power than a man of integrity, in almost all\nthe elections with which I have been acquainted. Elections, therefore,\nbecome a matter of heavy expense; and if contests are frequent, to many\nthey will become a matter of an expense totally ruinous, which no\nfortunes can bear, but least of all the landed fortunes, incumbered as\nthey often, indeed as they mostly are, with debts, with portions, with\njointures, and tied up in the hands of the possessor by the limitations\nof settlement. It is a material, it is in my opinion a lasting\nconsideration, in all the questions concerning election. Let no one\nthink the charges of elections a trivial matter.\n\nThe charge, therefore, of elections ought never to be lost sight of in a\nquestion concerning their frequency; because the grand object you seek\nis independence. Independence of mind will ever be more or less\ninfluenced by independence of fortune; and if every three years the\nexhausting sluices of entertainments, drinkings, open houses, to say\nnothing of bribery, are to be periodically drawn up and renewed,--if\ngovernment favors, for which now, in some shape or other, the whole race\nof men are candidates, are to be called for upon every occasion, I see\nthat private fortunes will be washed away, and every, even to the least,\ntrace of independence borne down by the torrent. I do not seriously\nthink this Constitution, even to the wrecks of it, could survive five\ntriennial elections. If you are to fight the battle, you must put on\nthe armor of the ministry, you must call in the public to the aid of\nprivate money. The expense of the last election has been computed (and I\nam persuaded that it has not been overrated) at 1,500,000_l._,--three\nshillings in the pound more in [than?] the land-tax. About the close of\nthe last Parliament and the beginning of this, several agents for\nboroughs went about, and I remember well that it was in every one of\ntheir mouths, \"Sir, your election will cost you three thousand pounds,\nif you are independent; but if the ministry supports you, it may be done\nfor two, and perhaps for less.\" And, indeed, the thing spoke itself.\nWhere a living was to be got for one, a commission in the army for\nanother, a lift in the navy for a third, and custom-house offices\nscattered about without measure or number, who doubts but money may be\nsaved? The Treasury may even add money: but, indeed, it is superfluous.\nA gentleman of two thousand a year, who meets another of the same\nfortune, fights with equal arms; but if to one of the candidates you add\na thousand a year in places for himself, and a power of giving away as\nmuch among others, one must, or there is no truth in arithmetical\ndemonstration, ruin his adversary, if he is to meet him and to fight\nwith him every third year. It will be said I do not allow for the\noperation of character: but I do; and I know it will have its weight in\nmost elections,--perhaps it may be decisive in some; but there are few\nin which it will prevent great expenses. The destruction of independent\nfortunes will be the consequence on the part of the candidate. What will\nbe the consequence of triennial corruption, triennial drunkenness,\ntriennial idleness, triennial lawsuits, litigations, prosecutions,\ntriennial frenzy,--of society dissolved, industry interrupted,\nruined,--of those personal hatreds that will never be suffered to\nsoften, those animosities and feuds which will be rendered immortal,\nthose quarrels which are never to be appeased,--morals vitiated and\ngangrened to the vitals? I think no stable and useful advantages were\never made by the money got at elections by the voter, but all he gets is\ndoubly lost to the public: it is money given to diminish the general\nstock of the community, which is in the industry of the subject. I am\nsure that it is a good while before he or his family settle again to\ntheir business. Their heads will never cool; the temptations of\nelections will be forever glittering before their eyes. They will all\ngrow politicians; every one, quitting his business, will choose to\nenrich himself by his vote. They will all take the gauging-rod; new\nplaces will be made for them; they will run to the custom-house quay;\ntheir looms and ploughs will be deserted.\n\nSo was Rome destroyed by the disorders of continual elections, though\nthose of Rome were sober disorders. They had nothing but faction,\nbribery, bread, and stage-plays, to debauch them: we have the\ninflammation of liquor superadded, a fury hotter than any of them. There\nthe contest was only between citizen and citizen: here you have the\ncontests of ambitious citizens of one side supported by the crown to\noppose to the efforts (let it be so) of private and unsupported ambition\non the other. Yet Rome was destroyed by the frequency and charge of\nelections, and the monstrous expense of an unremitted courtship to the\npeople. I think, therefore, the independent candidate and elector may\neach be destroyed by it, the whole body of the community be an infinite\nsufferer, and a vicious ministry the only gainer.\n\nGentlemen, I know, feel the weight of this argument; they agree, that\nthis would be the consequence of more frequent elections, if things were\nto continue as they are. But they think the greatness and frequency of\nthe evil would itself be, a remedy for it,--that, sitting but for a\nshort time, the member would not find it worth while to make such vast\nexpenses, while the fear of their constituents will hold them the more\neffectually to their duty.\n\nTo this I answer, that experience is full against them. This is no new\nthing; we have had triennial Parliaments; at no period of time were\nseats more eagerly contested. The expenses of elections ran higher,\ntaking the state of all charges, than they do now. The expense of\nentertainments was such, that an act, equally, severe and ineffectual,\nwas made against it; every monument of the time bears witness of the\nexpense, and most of the acts against corruption in elections were then\nmade; all the writers talked of it and lamented it. Will any one think\nthat a corporation will be contented with a bowl of punch or a piece of\nbeef the less, because elections are every three, instead of every seven\nyears? Will they change their wine for ale, because they are to get more\nale three years hence? Don't think it. Will they make fewer demands for\nthe advantages o\u00a3 patronage in favors and offices, because their member\nis brought more under their power? We have not only our own historical\nexperience in England upon this subject, but we have the experience\ncoexisting with us in Ireland, where, since their Parliament has been\nshortened, the expense of elections has been so far from being lowered,\nthat it has been very near doubled. Formerly they sat for the king's\nlife; the ordinary charge of a seat in Parliament was then fifteen\nhundred pounds. They now sit eight years, four sessions; it is now\ntwenty-five hundred pounds, and upwards. The spirit of _emulation_ has\nalso been extremely increased, and all who are acquainted with the tone\nof that country have no doubt that the spirit is still growing, that new\ncandidates will take the field, that the contests will be more violent,\nand the expenses of elections larger than ever.\n\nIt never can be otherwise. A seat in this House, for good purposes, for\nbad purposes, for no purposes at all, (except the mere consideration\nderived from being concerned in the public counsels,) will ever be a\nfirst-rate object of ambition in England. Ambition is no exact\ncalculator. Avarice itself does not calculate strictly, when it games.\nOne thing is certain,--that in this political game the great lottery of\npower is that into which men will purchase with millions of chances\nagainst them. In Turkey, where the place, where the fortune, where the\nhead itself are so insecure that scarcely any have died in their beds\nfor ages, so that the bowstring is the natural death of bashaws, yet in\nno country is power and distinction (precarious enough, God knows, in\nall) sought for with such boundless avidity,--as if the value of place\nwas enhanced by the danger and insecurity of its tenure. Nothing will\never make a seat in this House not an object of desire to numbers by any\nmeans or at any charge, but the depriving it of all power and all\ndignity. This would do it. This is the true and only nostrum for that\npurpose. But an House of Commons without power and without dignity,\neither in itself or in its members, is no House of Commons for the\npurposes of this Constitution.\n\nBut they will be afraid to act ill, if they know that the day of their\naccount is always near. I wish it were true; but it is not: here again\nwe have experience, and experience is against us. The distemper of this\nage is a poverty of spirit and of genius: it is trifling, it is futile,\nworse than ignorant, superficially taught, with the politics and morals\nof girls at a boarding-school rather than of men and statesmen: but it\nis not yet desperately wicked, or so scandalously venal as in former\ntimes. Did not a triennial Parliament give up the national dignity,\napprove the peace of Utrecht, and almost give up everything else, in\ntaking every step to defeat the Protestant succession? Was not the\nConstitution saved by those who had no election at all to go to, the\nLords, because the court applied to electors, and by various means\ncarried them from their true interests, so that the Tory ministry had a\nmajority without an application to a single member? Now as to the\nconduct of the members, it was then far from pure and independent.\nBribery was infinitely more flagrant. A predecessor of yours, Mr.\nSpeaker, put the question of his own expulsion for bribery. Sir William\nMusgrave was a wise man, a grave man, an independent man, a man of good\nfortune and good family; however, he carried on, while in opposition, a\ntraffic, a shameful traffic, with the ministry. Bishop Burnet knew of\nsix thousand pounds which he had received at one payment. I believe the\npayment of sums in hard money, plain, naked bribery, is rare amongst us.\nIt was then far from uncommon.\n\nA triennial was near ruining, a septennial Parliament saved your\nConstitution; nor, perhaps, have you ever known a more flourishing\nperiod, for the union of national prosperity, dignity, and liberty,\nthan the sixty years you have passed under that constitution of\nParliament.\n\nThe shortness of time in which they are to reap the profits of iniquity\nis far from checking the avidity of corrupt men; it renders them\ninfinitely more ravenous. They rush violently and precipitately on their\nobject; they lose all regard to decorum. The moments of profits are\nprecious; never are men so wicked as during a general mortality. It was\nso in the great plague at Athens, every symptom of which (and this its\nworse symptom amongst the rest) is so finely related by a great\nhistorian of antiquity. It was so in the plague of London in 1665. It\nappears in soldiers, sailors, &c. Whoever would contrive to render the\nlife of man much shorter than it is would, I am satisfied, find the\nsurest receipt for increasing the wickedness of our nature.\n\nThus, in my opinion, the shortness of a triennial sitting would have the\nfollowing ill effects: It would make the member more shamelessly and\nshockingly corrupt; it would increase his dependence on those who could\nbest support him at his election; it would wrack and tear to pieces the\nfortunes of those who stood upon their own fortunes and their private\ninterest; it would make the electors infinitely more venal; and it would\nmake the whole body of the people, who are, whether they have votes or\nnot, concerned in elections, more lawless, more idle, more debauched; it\nwould utterly destroy the sobriety, the industry, the integrity, the\nsimplicity of all the people, and undermine, I am much afraid, the\ndeepest and best-laid foundations of the commonwealth.\n\nThose who have spoken and written upon this subject without doors do\nnot so much deny the probable existence of these inconveniences in their\nmeasure as they trust for their prevention to remedies of various sorts\nwhich they propose. First, a place bill. But if this will not do, as\nthey fear it will not, then, they say, We will have a rotation, and a\ncertain number of you shall be rendered incapable of being elected for\nten years. Then for the electors, they shall ballot. The members of\nParliament also shall decide by ballot. A fifth project is the change of\nthe present legal representation of the kingdom. On all this I shall\nobserve, that it will be very unsuitable to your wisdom to adopt the\nproject of a bill to which there are objections insuperable by anything\nin the bill itself, upon the hope that those objections may be removed\nby subsequent projects, every one of which is full of difficulties of\nits own, and which are all of them very essential alterations in the\nConstitution. This seems very irregular and unusual. If anything should\nmake this a very doubtful measure, what can make it more so than that in\nthe opinion of its advocates it would aggravate all our old\ninconveniences in such a manner as to require a total alteration in the\nConstitution of the kingdom? If the remedies are proper in triennial,\nthey will not be less so in septennial elections. Let us try them\nfirst,--see how the House relishes them,--see how they will operate in\nthe nation,--and then, having felt your way, and prepared against these\ninconveniences....\n\nThe honorable gentleman sees that I respect the principle upon which he\ngoes, as well as his intentions and his abilities. He will believe that\nI do not differ from him wantonly and on trivial grounds. He is very\nsure that it was not his embracing one way which determined me to take\nthe other. _I_ have not in newspapers, to derogate from his fair fame\nwith the nation, printed the first rude sketch of his bill with\nungenerous and invidious comments. _I_ have not, in conversations\nindustriously circulated about the town, and talked on the benches of\nthis House, attributed his conduct to motives low and unworthy, and as\ngroundless as they are injurious. _I_ do not affect to be frightened\nwith this proposition, as if some hideous spectre had started from hell,\nwhich was to be sent back again by every form of exorcism and every kind\nof incantation. _I_ invoke no Acheron to overwhelm him in the whirlpools\nof its muddy gulf. _I_ do not tell the respectable mover and seconder,\nby a perversion of their sense and expressions, that their proposition\nhalts between the ridiculous and the dangerous. _I_ am not one of those\nwho start up, three at a time, and fall upon and strike at him with so\nmuch eagerness that our daggers hack one another in his sides. My\nhonorable friend has not brought down a spirited imp of chivalry to win\nthe first achievement and blazon of arms on his milk-white shield in a\nfield listed against him,--nor brought out the generous offspring of\nlions, and said to them,--\"Not against that side of the forest! beware\nof that!--here is the prey, where you are to fasten your paws!\"--and\nseasoning his unpractised jaws with blood, tell him,--\"This is the milk\nfor which you are to thirst hereafter!\" _We_ furnish at his expense no\nholiday,--nor suspend hell, that a crafty Ixion may have rest from his\nwheel,--nor give the common adversary (if he be a common adversary)\nreason to say,--\"I would have put in my word to oppose, but the\neagerness of your allies in your social war was such that I could not\nbreak in upon you.\" I hope he sees and feels, and that every member sees\nand feels along with him, the difference between amicable dissent and\ncivil discord.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON A\n\nMOTION MADE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS,\n\nMAY 7, 1782,\n\nFOR\n\nA COMMITTEE TO INQUIRE INTO THE STATE OF THE REPRESENTATION OF THE\nCOMMONS IN PARLIAMENT.\n\n\nMr. Speaker,--We have now discovered, at the close of the eighteenth\ncentury, that the Constitution of England, which for a series of ages\nhad been the proud distinction of this country, always the admiration\nand sometimes the envy of the wise and learned in every other\nnation,--we have discovered that this boasted Constitution, in the most\nboasted part of it, is a gross imposition upon the understanding of\nmankind, an insult to their feelings, and acting by contrivances\ndestructive to the best and most valuable interests of the people. Our\npolitical architects have taken a survey of the fabric of the British\nConstitution. It is singular that they report nothing against the crown,\nnothing against the lords: but in the House of Commons everything is\nunsound; it is ruinous in every part; it is infested by the dry rot, and\nready to tumble about our ears without their immediate help. You know by\nthe faults they find what are their ideas of the alteration. As all\ngovernment stands upon opinion, they know that the way utterly to\ndestroy it is to remove that opinion, to take away all reverence, all\nconfidence from it; and then, at the first blast of public discontent\nand popular tumult, it tumbles to the ground.\n\nIn considering this question, they who oppose it oppose it on different\ngrounds. One is in the nature of a previous question: that some\nalterations may be expedient, but that this is not the time for making\nthem. The other is, that no essential alterations are at all wanting,\nand that neither _now_ nor at _any_ time is it prudent or safe to be\nmeddling with the fundamental principles and ancient tried usages of our\nConstitution,--that our representation is as nearly perfect as the\nnecessary imperfection of human affairs and of human creatures will\nsuffer it to be,--and that it is a subject of prudent and honest use and\nthankful enjoyment, and not of captious criticism and rash experiment.\n\nOn the other side there are two parties, who proceed on two grounds, in\nmy opinion, as they state them, utterly irreconcilable. The one is\njuridical, the other political. The one is in the nature of a claim of\nright, on the supposed rights of man as man: this party desire the\ndecision of a suit. The other ground, as far as I can divine what it\ndirectly means, is, that the representation is not so politically framed\nas to answer the theory of its institution. As to the claim of _right_,\nthe meanest petitioner, the most gross and ignorant, is as good as the\nbest: in some respects his claim is more favorable, on account of his\nignorance; his weakness, his poverty, and distress only add to his\ntitles; he sues _in forma pauperis_; he ought to be a favorite of the\ncourt. But when the _other_ ground is taken, when the question is\npolitical, when a new constitution is to be made on a sound theory of\ngovernment, then the presumptuous pride of didactic ignorance is to be\nexcluded from the counsel in this high and arduous matter, which often\nbids defiance to the experience of the wisest. The first claims a\npersonal representation; the latter rejects it with scorn and fervor.\nThe language of the first party is plain and intelligible; they who\nplead an absolute right cannot be satisfied with anything short of\npersonal representation, because all _natural_ rights must be the rights\nof individuals, as by _nature_ there is no such thing as politic or\ncorporate personality: all these ideas are mere fictions of law, they\nare creatures of voluntary institution; men as men are individuals, and\nnothing else. They, therefore, who reject the principle of natural and\npersonal representation are essentially and eternally at variance with\nthose who claim it. As to the first sort of reformers, it is ridiculous\nto talk to them of the British Constitution upon any or upon all of its\nbases: for they lay it down, that every man ought to govern, himself,\nand that, where he cannot go, himself, he must send his representative;\nthat all other government is usurpation, and is so far from having a\nclaim to our obedience, it is not only our right, but our duty, to\nresist it. Nine tenths of the reformers argue thus,--that is, on the\nnatural right.\n\nIt is impossible not to make some reflection on the nature of this\nclaim, or avoid a comparison between the extent of the principle and the\npresent object of the demand. If this claim be founded, it is clear to\nwhat it goes. The House of Commons, in that light, undoubtedly, is no\nrepresentative of the people, as a collection of individuals. Nobody\npretends it, nobody can justify such an assertion. When you come to\nexamine into this claim of right, founded on the right of\nself-government in each individual, you find the thing demanded\ninfinitely short of the principle of the demand. What! _one third_ only\nof the legislature, and of the government no share at all? What sort of\ntreaty of partition is this for those who have an inherent right to the\nwhole? Give them all they ask, and your grant is still a cheat: for how\ncomes only a third to be their younger-children's fortune in this\nsettlement? How came they neither to have the choice of kings, or lords,\nor judges, or generals, or admirals, or bishops, or priests, or\nministers, or justices of peace? Why, what have you to answer in favor\nof the prior rights of the crown and peerage but this: Our Constitution\nis a prescriptive constitution; it is a constitution whose sole\nauthority is, that it has existed time out of mind? It is settled in\nthese _two_ portions against one, legislatively,--and in the whole of\nthe judicature, the whole of the federal capacity, of the executive, the\nprudential, and the financial administration, in one alone. Nor was your\nHouse of Lords and the prerogatives of the crown settled on any\nadjudication in favor of natural rights: for they could never be so\npartitioned. Your king, your lords, your judges, your juries, grand and\nlittle, all are prescriptive; and what proves it is the disputes, not\nyet concluded, and never near becoming so, when any of them first\noriginated. Prescription is the most solid of all titles, not only to\nproperty, but, which is to secure that property, to government. They\nharmonize with each other, and give mutual aid to one another. It is\naccompanied with another ground of authority in the constitution of the\nhuman mind, presumption. It is a presumption in favor of any settled\nscheme of government against any untried project, that a nation has long\nexisted and flourished under it. It is a better presumption even of the\n_choice_ of a nation,--far better than any sudden and temporary\narrangement by actual election. Because a nation is not an idea only of\nlocal extent and individual momentary aggregation, but it is an idea of\ncontinuity which extends in time as well as in numbers and in space. And\nthis is a choice not of one day or one set of people, not a tumultuary\nand giddy choice; it is a deliberate election of ages and of\ngenerations; it is a constitution, made by what is ten thousand times\nbetter than choice; it is made by the peculiar circumstances, occasions,\ntempers, dispositions, and moral, civil, and social habitudes of the\npeople, which, disclose themselves only in a long space of time. It is a\nvestment which accommodates itself to the body. Nor is prescription of\ngovernment formed upon blind, unmeaning prejudices. For man is a most\nunwise and a most wise being. The individual is foolish; the multitude,\nfor the moment, is foolish, when they act without deliberation; but the\nspecies is wise, and, when time is given to it, as a species, it almost\nalways acts right.\n\nThe reason for the crown as it is, for the lords as they are, is my\nreason for the commons as they are, the electors as they are. Now if the\ncrown, and the lords, and the judicatures are all prescriptive, so is\nthe House of Commons of the very same origin, and of no other. We and\nour electors have their powers and privileges both made and\ncircumscribed by prescription, as much to the full as the other parts;\nand as such we have always claimed them, and on no other title. The\nHouse of Commons is a legislative body corporate by prescription, not\nmade upon any given theory, but existing prescriptively,--just like the\nrest. This proscription has made it essentially what it is, an aggregate\ncollection of three parts, knights, citizens, burgesses. The question\nis, whether this has been always so, since the House of Commons has\ntaken its present shape and circumstances, and has been an essential\noperative part of the Constitution,--which, I take it, it has been for\nat least five hundred years.\n\nThis I resolve to myself in the affirmative: and then another question\narises:--Whether this House stands firm upon its ancient foundations,\nand is not, by time and accidents, so declined from its perpendicular as\nto want the hand of the wise and experienced architects of the day to\nset it upright again, and to prop and buttress it up for\nduration;--whether it continues true to the principles upon which it has\nhitherto stood;--whether this be _de facto_ the constitution of the\nHouse of Commons, as it has been since the time that the House of\nCommons has without dispute become a necessary and an efficient part of\nthe British Constitution. To ask whether a thing which has always been\nthe same stands to its usual principle seems to me to be perfectly\nabsurd: for how do you know the principles, but from the construction?\nand if that remains the same, the principles remain the same. It is true\nthat to say your Constitution is what it has been is no sufficient\ndefence for those who say it is a bad constitution. It is an answer to\nthose who say that it is a degenerate constitution. To those who say it\nis a bad one, I answer, Look to its effects. In all moral machinery, the\nmoral results are its test.\n\nOn what grounds do we go to restore our Constitution to what it has been\nat some given period, or to reform and reconstruct it upon principles\nmore conformable to a sound theory of government? A prescriptive\ngovernment, such as ours, never was the work of any legislator, never\nwas made upon any foregone theory. It seems to me a preposterous way of\nreasoning, and a perfect confusion of ideas, to take the theories which\nlearned and speculative men have made from that government, and then,\nsupposing it made on those theories which were made from it, to accuse\nthe government as not corresponding with them. I do not vilify theory\nand speculation: no, because that would be to vilify reason itself,\n_Neque decipitur ratio, neque decipit unquam_. No,--whenever I speak\nagainst theory, I mean always a weak, erroneous, fallacious, unfounded,\nor imperfect theory; and one of the ways of discovering that it is a\nfalse theory is by comparing it with practice. This is the true\ntouchstone of all theories which regard man and the affairs of\nmen,--Does it suit his nature in general?--does it suit his nature as\nmodified by his habits?\n\nThe more frequently this affair is discussed, the stronger the case\nappears to the sense and the feelings of mankind. I have no more doubt\nthan I entertain of my existence, that this very thing, which is stated\nas an horrible thing, is the means of the preservation of our\nConstitution whilst it lasts,--of curing it of many of the disorders\nwhich, attending every species of institution, would attend the\nprinciple of an exact local representation, or a representation on the\nprinciple of numbers. If you reject personal representation, you are\npushed upon expedience; and, then what they wish us to do is, to prefer\ntheir speculations on that subject to the happy experience of this\ncountry, of a growing liberty and a growing prosperity for five hundred\nyears. Whatever respect I have for their talents, this, for one, I will\nnot do. Then what is the standard of expedience? Expedience is that\nwhich is good for the community, and good for every individual in it.\nNow this expedience is the _desideratum_, to be sought either without\nthe experience of means or with that experience. If without, as in case\nof the fabrication of a new commonwealth, I will hear the learned\narguing what promises to be expedient; but if we are to judge of a\ncommonwealth actually existing, the first thing I inquire is, What has\nbeen _found_ expedient or inexpedient? And I will not take their\n_promise_ rather than the _performance_ of the Constitution.\n\n.... But no, this was not the cause of the discontents. I went through\nmost of the northern parts,--the Yorkshire election was then raging; the\nyear before, through most of the western counties,--Bath, Bristol,\nGloucester: not one word, either in the towns or country, on the subject\nof representation; much on the receipt tax, something on Mr. Fox's\nambition; much greater apprehension of danger from thence than from want\nof representation. One would think that the ballast of the ship was\nshifted with us, and that our Constitution had the gunwale under water.\nBut can you fairly and distinctly point out what one evil or grievance\nhas happened which you can refer to the representative not following the\nopinion of his constituents? What one symptom do we find of this\ninequality? But it is not an arithmetical inequality with which we ought\nto trouble ourselves. If there be a moral, a political equality, this is\nthe _desideratum_ in our Constitution, and in every constitution in the\nworld. Moral inequality is as between places and between classes. Now,\nI ask, what advantage do you find that the places which abound in\nrepresentation possess over others in which it is more scanty, in\nsecurity for freedom, in security for justice, or in any one of those\nmeans of procuring temporal prosperity and eternal happiness the ends\nfor which society was formed? Are the local interests of Cornwall and\nWiltshire, for instance, their roads, canals, their prisons, their\npolice, better than Yorkshire, Warwickshire, or Staffordshire? Warwick\nhas members: is Warwick or Stafford more opulent, happy, or free than\nNewcastle, or than Birmingham? Is Wiltshire the pampered favorite,\nwhilst Yorkshire, like the child of the bondwoman, is turned out to the\ndesert? This is like the unhappy persons who live, if they can be said\nto live, in the statical chair,--who are ever feeling their pulse, and\nwho do not judge of health by the aptitude of the body to perform its\nfunctions, but by their ideas of what ought to be the true balance\nbetween the several secretions. Is a committee of Cornwall, &c,\nthronged, and the others deserted? No. You have an equal representation,\nbecause you have men equally interested in the prosperity of the whole,\nwho are involved in the general interest and the general sympathy; and,\nperhaps, these places furnishing a superfluity of public agents and\nadministrators, (whether in strictness they are representatives or not I\ndo not mean to inquire, but they are agents and administrators,) they\nwill stand clearer of local interests, passions, prejudices, and cabals\nthan the others, and therefore preserve the balance of the parts, and\nwith a more general view and a more steady hand than the rest....\n\nIn every political proposal we must not leave out of the question the\npolitical views and object of the proposer; and these we discover, not\nby what he says, but by the principles he lays down. \"I mean,\" says he,\n\"a moderate and temperate reform: that is, I mean to do as little good\nas possible.\" If the Constitution be what you represent it, and there be\nno danger in the change, you do wrong not to make the reform\ncommensurate to the abuse. Fine reformer, indeed! generous donor! What\nis the cause of this parsimony of the liberty which you dole out to the\npeople? Why all this limitation in giving blessings and benefits to\nmankind? You admit that there is an extreme in liberty, which may be\ninfinitely noxious to those who are to receive it, and which in the end\nwill leave them no liberty at all. I think so, too. They know it, and\nthey feel it. The question is, then, What is the standard of that\nextreme? What that gentleman, and the associations, or some parts of\ntheir phalanxes, think proper? Then our liberties are in their pleasure;\nit depends on their arbitrary will how far I shall be free. I will have\nnone of that freedom. If, therefore, the standard of moderation be\nsought for, I will seek for it. Where? Not in their fancies, nor in my\nown: I will seek for it where I know it is to be found,--in the\nConstitution I actually enjoy. Here it says to an encroaching\nprerogative,--\"Your sceptre has its length; you cannot add an hair to\nyour head, or a gem to your crown, but what an eternal law has given to\nit.\" Here it says to an overweening peerage,--\"Your pride finds banks\nthat it cannot overflow\": here to a tumultuous and giddy people,--\"There\nis a bound to the raging of the sea.\" Our Constitution is like our\nisland, which uses and restrains its subject sea; in vain the waves\nroar. In that Constitution, I know, and exultingly I feel, both that I\nam free, and that I am not free dangerously to myself or to others. I\nknow that no power on earth, acting as I ought to do, can touch my life,\nmy liberty, or my property. I have that inward and dignified\nconsciousness of my own security and independence, which constitutes,\nand is the only thing which, does constitute, the proud and comfortable\nsentiment of freedom in the human breast. I know, too, and I bless God\nfor, my safe mediocrity: I know, that, if I possessed all the talents of\nthe gentlemen on the side of the House I sit, and on the other, I\ncannot, by royal favor, or by popular delusion, or by oligarchical\ncabal, elevate myself above a certain very limited point, so as to\nendanger my own fall, or the ruin of my country. I know there is an\norder that keeps things fast in their place: it is made to us, and we\nare made to it. Why not ask another wife, other children, another body,\nanother mind?\n\nThe great object of most of these reformers is, to prepare the\ndestruction of the Constitution, by disgracing and discrediting the\nHouse of Commons. For they think, (prudently, in my opinion,) that, if\nthey can persuade the nation that the House of Commons is so constituted\nas not to secure the public liberty, not to have a proper connection\nwith the public interests, so constituted as not either actually or\nvirtually to be the representative of the people, it will be easy to\nprove that a government composed of a monarchy, an oligarchy chosen by\nthe crown, and such a House of Commons, whatever good can be in such a\nsystem, can by no means be a system of free government.\n\nThe Constitution of England is never to have a quietus; it is to be\ncontinually vilified, attacked, reproached, resisted; instead of being\nthe hope and sure anchor in all storms, instead of being the means of\nredress to all grievances, itself is the grand grievance of the nation,\nour shame instead of our glory. If the only specific plan proposed,\nindividual personal representation, is directly rejected by the person\nwho is looked on as the great support of this business, then the only\nway of considering it is a question of convenience. An honorable\ngentleman prefers the individual to the present. He therefore himself\nsees no middle term whatsoever, and therefore prefers, of what he sees,\nthe individual: this is the only thing distinct and sensible that has\nbeen advocated. He has, then, a scheme, which is the individual\nrepresentation,--he is not at a loss, not inconsistent,--which scheme\nthe other right honorable gentleman reprobates. Now what does this go\nto, but to lead directly to anarchy? For to discredit the only\ngovernment which he either possesses or can project, what is this but to\ndestroy all government? and this is anarchy. My right honorable friend,\nin supporting this motion, disgraces his friends and justifies his\nenemies in order to blacken the Constitution of his country, even of\nthat House of Commons which supported him. There is a difference between\na moral or political exposure of a public evil relative to the\nadministration of government, whether in men or systems, and a\ndeclaration of defects, real or supposed, in the fundamental\nconstitution of your country. The first may be cured in the individual\nby the motives of religion, virtue, honor, fear, shame, or interest. Men\nmay be made to abandon also false systems, by exposing their absurdity\nor mischievous tendency to their own better thoughts, or to the contempt\nor indignation of the public; and after all, if they should exist, and\nexist uncorrected, they only disgrace individuals as fugitive opinions.\nBut it is quite otherwise with the frame and constitution of the state:\nif that is disgraced, patriotism is destroyed in its very source. No man\nhas ever willingly obeyed, much less was desirous of defending with his\nblood, a mischievous and absurd scheme of government. Our first, our\ndearest, most comprehensive relation, our country, is gone.\n\nIt suggests melancholy reflections, in consequence of the strange course\nwe have long held, that we are now no longer quarrelling about the\ncharacter, or about the conduct of men, or the tenor of measures, but we\nare grown out of humor with the English Constitution itself: this is\nbecome the object of the animosity of Englishmen. This Constitution in\nformer days used to be the admiration and the envy of the world: it was\nthe pattern for politicians, the theme of the eloquent, the meditation\nof the philosopher, in every part of the world. As to Englishmen, it was\ntheir pride, their consolation. By it they lived, for it they were ready\nto die. Its defects, if it had any, were partly covered by partiality,\nand partly borne by prudence. Now all its excellencies are forgot, its\nfaults are now forcibly dragged into day, exaggerated by every artifice\nof representation. It is despised and rejected of men, and every device\nand invention of ingenuity or idleness set up in opposition or in\npreference to it. It is to this humor, and it is to the measures growing\nout of it, that I set myself (I hope not alone) in the most determined\nopposition. Never before did we at any time in this country meet upon\nthe theory of our frame of government, to sit in judgment on the\nConstitution of our country, to call it as a delinquent before us, and\nto accuse it of every defect and every vice,--to see whether it, an\nobject of our veneration, even our adoration, did or did not accord with\na preconceived scheme in the minds of certain gentlemen. Cast your eyes\non the journals of Parliament. It is for fear of losing the inestimable\ntreasure we have that I do not venture to game it out of my hands for\nthe vain hope of improving it. I look with filial reverence on the\nConstitution of my country, and never will cut it in pieces, and put it\ninto the kettle of any magician, in order to boil it, with the puddle of\ntheir compounds, into youth and vigor. On the contrary, I will drive\naway such pretenders; I will nurse its venerable age, and with lenient\narts extend a parent's breath.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nA MOTION, MADE BY THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM DOWDESWELL,\n\nMARCH 7, 1771,\n\nFOR LEAVE TO BRING IN\n\nA BILL FOR EXPLAINING THE POWERS OF JURIES IN PROSECUTIONS FOR LIBELS.\n\nTOGETHER WITH\n\nA LETTER IN VINDICATION OF THAT MEASURE,\n\nAND\n\nA COPY OF THE PROPOSED BILL.\n\n\nI have always understood that a superintendence over the doctrines as\nwell as the proceedings of the courts of justice was a principal object\nof the constitution of this House,--that you were to watch at once over\nthe lawyer and the law,--that there should be an orthodox faith, as well\nas proper works: and I have always looked with a degree of reverence and\nadmiration on this mode of superintendence. For, being totally\ndisengaged from the detail of juridical practice, we come something\nperhaps the better qualified, and certainly much the better disposed, to\nassert the genuine principle of the laws, in which we can, as a body,\nhave no other than an enlarged and a public interest. We have no common\ncause of a professional attachment or professional emulations to bias\nour minds; we have no foregone opinions which from obstinacy and false\npoint of honor we think ourselves at all events obliged to support. So\nthat, with our own minds perfectly disengaged from the exercise, we may\nsuperintend the execution of the national justice, which from this\ncircumstance is better secured to the people than in any other country\nunder heaven it can be. As our situation puts us in a proper condition,\nour power enables us to execute this trust. We may, when we see cause of\ncomplaint, administer a remedy: it is in our choice by an address to\nremove an improper judge, by impeachment before the peers to pursue to\ndestruction a corrupt judge, or by bill to assert, to explain, to\nenforce, or to reform the law, just as the occasion and necessity of the\ncase shall guide us. We stand in a situation very honorable to ourselves\nand very useful to our country, if we do not abuse or abandon the trust\nthat is placed in us.\n\nThe question now before you is upon the power of juries in prosecuting\nfor libels. There are four opinions:--1. That the doctrine as held by\nthe courts is proper and constitutional, and therefore should not be\naltered; 2. That it is neither proper nor constitutional, but that it\nwill be rendered worse by your interference; 3. That it is wrong, but\nthat the only remedy is a bill of retrospect; 4. The opinion of those\nwho bring in the bill, that the thing is wrong, but that it is enough to\ndirect the judgment of the court in future.\n\nThe bill brought in is for the purpose of asserting and securing a great\nobject in the juridical constitution of this kingdom, which, from a long\nseries of practices and opinions in our judges, has _in one point_, and\nin one very essential point, deviated from the true principle.\n\nIt is the very ancient privilege of the people of England, that they\nshall be tried, except in the known exceptions, not by judges appointed\nby the crown, but by their own fellow-subjects, the peers of that county\ncourt at which they owe their suit and service; and out of this\nprinciple the trial by juries has grown. This principle has not, that I\ncan find, been contested in any case by any authority whatsoever; but\nthere is one case in which, without directly contesting the principle,\nthe whole substance, energy, and virtue of the privilege is taken out\nof it,--that is, in the case of a trial by indictment or information for\na libel. The doctrine in that case, laid down by several judges, amounts\nto this: that the jury have no competence, where a libel is alleged,\nexcept to find the gross corporeal facts of the writing and the\npublication, together with the identity of the things and persons to\nwhich it refers; but that the intent and the tendency of the work, in\nwhich intent and tendency the whole criminality consists, is the sole\nand exclusive province of the judge. Thus having reduced the jury to the\ncognizance of facts not in themselves presumptively criminal, but\nactions neutral and indifferent, the whole matter in which the subject\nhas any concern or interest is taken out of the hands of the jury: and\nif the jury take more upon themselves, what they so take is contrary to\ntheir duty; it is no _moral_, but a merely _natural_ power,--the same by\nwhich they may do any other improper act, the same by which they may\neven prejudice themselves with regard to any other part of the issue\nbefore them. Such is the matter, as it now stands in possession of your\nhighest criminal courts, handed down to them from very respectable legal\nancestors. If this can once be established in this case, the application\nin principle to other cases will be easy, and the practice will run upon\na descent, until the progress of an encroaching jurisdiction (for it is\nin its nature to encroach, when once it has passed its limits) coming to\nconfine the juries, case after case, to the corporeal fact, and to that\nalone, and excluding the intention of mind, the only source of merit and\ndemerit, of reward or punishment, juries become a dead letter in the\nConstitution.\n\nFor which reason it is high time to take this matter into the\nconsideration of Parliament: and for that purpose it will be necessary\nto examine, first, whether there is anything in the peculiar nature of\nthis crime that makes it necessary to exclude the jury from considering\nthe intention in it, more than in others. So far from it, that I take it\nto be much less so from the analogy of other criminal cases, where no\nsuch restraint is ordinarily put upon them. The act of homicide is\n_prim\u00e2 facie_ criminal; the intention is afterwards to appear, for the\njury to acquit or condemn. In burglary do they insist that the jury have\nnothing to do but to find the taking of goods, and that, if they do,\nthey must necessarily find the party guilty, and leave the rest to the\njudge, and that they have nothing to do with the word _felonic\u00e8_ in the\nindictment?\n\nThe next point is, to consider it as a question of constitutional\npolicy: that is, whether the decision of the question of libel ought to\nbe left to the judges as a presumption of law, rather than to the jury\nas matter of popular judgment,--as the malice in the case of murder, the\nfelony in the case of stealing. If the intent and tendency are not\nmatters within the province of popular judgment, but legal and technical\nconclusions formed upon general principles of law, let us see what they\nare. Certainly they are most unfavorable, indeed totally adverse, to the\nConstitution of this country.\n\nHere we must have recourse to analogies; for we cannot argue on ruled\ncases one way or the other. See the history. The old books, deficient in\ngeneral in crown cases, furnish us with little on this head. As to the\ncrime, in the very early Saxon law I see an offence of this species,\ncalled folk-leasing, made a capital offence, but no very precise\ndefinition of the crime, and no trial at all. See the statute of 3rd\nEdward I. cap. 84. The law of libels could not have arrived at a very\nearly period in this country. It is no wonder that we find no vestige of\nany constitution from authority, or of any deductions from legal\nscience, in our old books and records, upon that subject. The statute of\n_Scandalum Magnatum_ is the oldest that I know, and this goes but a\nlittle way in this sort of learning. Libelling is not the crime of an\nilliterate people. When they were thought no mean clerks who could read\nand write, when he who could read and write was presumptively a person\nin holy orders, libels could not be general or dangerous; and scandals\nmerely _oral_ could _spread_ little and must _perish_ soon. It is\nwriting, it is printing more emphatically, that imps calumny with those\neagle-wings on which, as the poet says, \"immortal slanders fly.\" By the\npress they spread, they last, they leave the sting in the wound.\nPrinting was not known in England much earlier than the reign of Henry\nthe Seventh, and in the third year of that reign the court of\nStar-Chamber was established. The press and its enemy are nearly coeval.\nAs no positive law against libels existed, they fell under the\nindefinite class of misdemeanors. For the trial of misdemeanors that\ncourt was instituted. Their tendency to produce riots and disorders was\na main part of the charge, and was laid in order to give the court\njurisdiction chiefly against libels. The offence was new. Learning of\ntheir own upon the subject they had none; and they were obliged to\nresort to the only emporium where it was to be had, the Roman law. After\nthe Star-Chamber was abolished in the 10th of Charles I., its authority\nindeed ceased, but its maxims subsisted and survived it. The spirit of\nthe Star-Chamber has transmigrated and lived again; and Westminster Hall\nwas obliged to borrow from the Star-Chamber, for the same reasons as the\nStar-Chamber had borrowed from the Roman Forum, because they had no law,\nstatute, or tradition of their own. Thus the Roman law took possession\nof our courts,--I mean its doctrine, not its sanctions: the severity of\ncapital punishment was omitted, all the rest remained. The grounds of\nthese laws are just and equitable. Undoubtedly the good fame of every\nman ought to be under the protection of the laws, as well as his life\nand liberty and property. Good fame is an outwork that defends them all\nand renders them all valuable. The law forbids you to revenge; when it\nties up the hands of some, it ought to restrain the tongues of others.\nThe good fame of government is the same; it ought not to be traduced.\nThis is necessary in all government; and if opinion be support, what\ntakes away this destroys that support: but the liberty of the press is\nnecessary to this government.\n\nThe wisdom, however, of government is of more importance than the laws.\nI should study the temper of the people, before I ventured on actions of\nthis kind. I would consider the whole of the prosecution of a libel of\nsuch importance as Junius, as one piece, as one consistent plan of\noperations: and I would contrive it so, that, if I were defeated, I\nshould not be disgraced,--that even my victory should not be more\nignominious than my defeat; I would so manage, that the lowest in the\npredicament of guilt should not be the only one in punishment. I would\nnot inform against the mere vender of a collection of pamphlets. I\nwould not put him to trial first, if I could possibly avoid it. I would\nrather stand the consequences of my first error than carry it to a\njudgment that must disgrace my prosecution or the court. We ought to\nexamine these things in a manner which becomes ourselves, and becomes\nthe object of the inquiry,--not to examine into the most important\nconsideration which can come before us with minds heated with prejudice\nand filled with passions, with vain popular opinions and humors, and,\nwhen we propose to examine into the justice of others, to be unjust\nourselves.\n\nAn inquiry is wished, as the most effectual way of putting an end to the\nclamors and libels which are the disorder and disgrace of the times. For\npeople remain quiet, they sleep secure, when they imagine that the\nvigilant eye of a censorial magistrate watches over all the proceedings\nof judicature, and that the sacred fire of an eternal constitutional\njealousy, which, is the guardian of liberty, law, and justice, is alive\nnight and day, and burning in this House. But when the magistrate gives\nup his office and his duty, the people assume it, and they inquire too\nmuch and too irreverently, because they think their representatives do\nnot inquire at all.\n\nWe have in a libel, 1st, the writing; 2nd, the communication, called by\nthe lawyers the publication; 3rd, the application to persons and facts;\n4th, the intent and tendency; 5th, the matter,--diminution of fame. The\nlaw presumptions on all these are in the communication. No intent can\nmake a defamatory publication good, nothing can make it have a good\ntendency; truth is not pleadable. Taken _juridically_, the foundation\nof these law presumptions is not unjust; taken _constitutionally_, they\nare ruinous, and tend to the total suppression of all publication. If\njuries are confined to the fact, no writing which censures, however\njustly or however temperately, the conduct of administration, can be\nunpunished. Therefore, if the intent and tendency be left to the judge,\nas legal conclusions growing from the fact, you may depend upon it you\ncan have no public discussion of a public measure; which is a point\nwhich even those who are most offended with the licentiousness of the\npress (and it is very exorbitant, very provoking) will hardly contend\nfor.\n\nSo far as to the first opinion,--that the doctrine is right, and needs\nno alteration. 2nd. The next is, that it is wrong, but that we are not\nin a condition to help it. I admit it is true that there are cases of a\nnature so delicate and complicated that an act of Parliament on the\nsubject may become a matter of great difficulty. It sometimes cannot\ndefine with exactness, because the subject-matter will not bear an exact\ndefinition. It may seem to _take away_ everything which it does not\npositively _establish_, and this might be inconvenient; or it may seem,\n_vice vers\u00e2_, to _establish_ everything which it does not _expressly\ntake away_. It may be more advisable to leave such matters to the\nenlightened discretion of a judge, awed by a censorial House of Commons.\nBut then it rests upon those who object to a legislative interposition\nto prove these inconveniences in the particular case before them. For it\nwould be a most dangerous, as it is a most idle and most groundless\nconceit, to assume as a general principle, that the rights and liberties\nof the subject are impaired by the care and attention of the\nlegislature to secure them. If so, very ill would the purchase of Magna\nCharta have merited the deluge of blood which was shed in order to have\nthe body of English privileges defined by a positive written law. This\ncharter, the inestimable monument of English freedom, so long the boast\nand glory of this nation, would have been at once an instrument of our\nservitude and a monument of our folly, if this principle were true. The\nthirty-four confirmations would have been only so many repetitions of\ntheir absurdity, so many new links in the chain, and so many\ninvalidations of their right.\n\nYou cannot open your statute-book without seeing positive provisions\nrelative to every right of the subject. This business of juries is the\nsubject of not fewer than a dozen. To suppose that juries are something\ninnate in the Constitution of Great Britain, that they have jumped, like\nMinerva, out of the head of Jove in complete armor, is a weak fancy,\nsupported neither by precedent nor by reason. Whatever is most ancient\nand venerable in our Constitution, royal prerogative, privileges of\nParliament, rights of elections, authority of courts, juries, must have\nbeen modelled according to the occasion. I spare your patience, and I\npay a compliment to your understanding, in not attempting to prove that\nanything so elaborate and artificial as a jury was not the work of\n_chance_, but a matter of institution, brought to its present state by\nthe joint efforts of legislative authority and juridical prudence. It\nneed not be ashamed of being (what in many parts of it, at least, it is)\nthe offspring of an act of Parliament, unless it is a shame for our laws\nto be the results of our legislature. Juries, which sensitively shrink\nfrom the rude touch of Parliamentary remedy, have been the subject of\nnot fewer than, I think, forty-three acts of Parliament, in which they\nhave been changed with all the authority of a creator over its creature,\nfrom Magna Charta to the great alterations which were made in the 29th\nof George II.\n\nTo talk of this matter in any other way is to turn a rational principle\ninto an idle and vulgar superstition,--like the antiquary, Dr. Woodward,\nwho trembled to have his shield scoured, for fear it should be\ndiscovered to be no better than an old pot-lid. This species of\ntenderness to a jury puts me in mind of a gentleman of good condition,\nwho had been reduced to great poverty and distress: application was made\nto some rich fellows in his neighborhood to give him some assistance;\nbut they begged to be excused, for fear of affronting a person of his\nhigh birth; and so the poor gentleman was left to starve, out of pure\nrespect to the antiquity of his family. From this principle has arisen\nan opinion, that I find current amongst gentlemen, that this distemper\nought to be left to cure itself:--that the judges, having been well\nexposed, and something terrified on account of these clamors, will\nentirely change, if not very much relax from their rigor;--if the\npresent race should not change, that the chances of succession may put\nother more constitutional judges in their place;--lastly, if neither\nshould happen, yet that the spirit of an English jury will always be\nsufficient for the vindication of its own rights, and will not suffer\nitself to be overborne by the bench. I confess that I totally dissent\nfrom all these opinions. These suppositions become the strongest\nreasons with me to evince the necessity of some clear and positive\nsettlement of this question of contested jurisdiction. If judges are so\nfull of levity, so full of timidity, if they are influenced by such mean\nand unworthy passions that a popular clamor is sufficient to shake the\nresolution they build upon the solid basis of a legal principle, I would\nendeavor to fix that mercury by a positive law. If to please an\nadministration the judges can go one way to-day, and to please the crowd\nthey can go another to-morrow, if they will oscillate backward and\nforward between power and popularity, it is high time to fix the law in\nsuch a manner as to resemble, as it ought, the great Author of all law,\nin whom there is no variableness nor shadow of turning.\n\nAs to their succession I have just the same opinion. I would not leave\nit to the chances of promotion, or to the characters of lawyers, what\nthe law of the land, what the rights of juries, or what the liberty of\nthe press should be. My law should not depend upon the fluctuation of\nthe closet or the complexion of men. Whether a black-haired man or a\nfair-haired man presided in the Court of King's Bench, I would have the\nlaw the same; the same, whether he was born _in domo regnatrice_ and\nsucked from his infancy the milk of courts, or was nurtured in the\nrugged discipline of a popular opposition. This law of court cabal and\nof party, this _mens qu\u00e6dam nullo perturbata affectu_, this law of\ncomplexion, ought not to be endured for a moment in a country whose\nbeing depends upon the certainty, clearness, and stability of\ninstitutions.\n\nNow I come to the last substitute for the proposed bill,--the spirit of\njuries operating their own jurisdiction. This I confess I think the\nworst of all, for the same reasons on which I objected to the\nothers,--and for other weighty reasons besides, which are separate and\ndistinct. First, because juries, being taken at random out of a mass of\nmen infinitely large, must be of characters as various as the body they\narise from is large in its extent. If the judges differ in their\ncomplexions, much more will a jury. A timid jury will give way to an\nawful judge delivering oracularly the law, and charging them on their\noaths, and putting it home to their consciences to beware of judging,\nwhere the law had given them no competence. We know that they will do\nso, they have done so in an hundred instances. A respectable member of\nyour own House, no vulgar man, tells you, that, on the authority of a\njudge, he found a man guilty in whom at the same time he could find no\nguilt. But supposing them full of knowledge and full of manly confidence\nin themselves, how will their knowledge or their confidence inform or\ninspirit others? They give no reason for their verdict, they can but\ncondemn or acquit; and no man can tell the motives on which they have\nacquitted or condemned. So that this hope of the power of juries to\nassert their own jurisdiction must be a principle blind, as being\nwithout reason, and as changeable as the complexion of men and the\ntemper of the times.\n\nBut, after all, is it fit that this dishonorable contention between the\ncourt and juries should subsist any longer? On what principle is it that\na jury [juror?] refuses to be directed by the court as to his\n_competence_? Whether a libel or no libel be a question of law or of\nfact may be doubtful; but a question of jurisdiction and competence is\ncertainly a question of law: on this the court ought undoubtedly to\njudge, and to judge solely and exclusively. If they judge wrong from\nexcusable error, you ought to correct it, as to-day it is proposed, by\nan explanatory bill,--or if by corruption, by bill of _penalties_\ndeclaratory, and by punishment. What does a juror say to a judge, when\nhe refuses his opinion upon a question of judicature? \"You are so\ncorrupt, that I should consider myself a partaker of your crime, were I\nto be guided by your opinion\"; or, \"You are so grossly ignorant, that I,\nfresh from my hounds, from my plough, my counter, or my loom, am fit to\ndirect you in your own profession.\" This is an unfitting, it is a\ndangerous state of things. The spirit of any sort of men is not a fit\n_rule_ for deciding on the bounds of their jurisdiction: first, because\nit is different in different men, and even different in the same at\ndifferent times, and can never become the proper directing line of law;\nnext, because it is not reason, but feeling, and, when once it is\nirritated, it is not apt to confine itself within its proper limits. If\nit becomes not difference in opinion upon law, but a trial of spirit\nbetween parties, our courts of law are no longer the temple of justice,\nbut the amphitheatre for gladiators. No,--God forbid! Juries ought to\ntake their law from the bench only; but it is _our_ business that they\nshould hear nothing from the bench but what is agreeable to the\nprinciples of the Constitution. The jury are to hear the judge: the\njudge is to hear the law, where it speaks plain; where it does not, he\nis to hear the legislature. As I do not think these opinions of the\njudges to be agreeable to those principles, I wish to take the only\nmethod in which they can or ought to be corrected,--by bill.\n\nNext, my opinion is, that it ought to be rather by a bill for removing\ncontroversies than by a bill in the state of manifest and express\ndeclaration and in words _de pr\u00e6terito_. I do this upon reasons of\nequity and constitutional policy. I do not want to censure the present\njudges. I think them to be excused for their error. Ignorance is no\nexcuse for a judge; it is changing the nature of his crime; it is not\nabsolving. It must be such error as a wise and conscientious judge may\npossibly fall into, and must arise from one or both these causes:--1. A\nplausible principle of law; 2. The precedents of respectable\nauthorities, and in good times. In the first, the principle of law, that\nthe judge is to decide on law, the jury to decide on fact, is an ancient\nand venerable principle and maxim of the law; and if supported in this\napplication by precedents of good times and of good men, the judge, if\nwrong, ought to be corrected,--he ought not to be reproved or to be\ndisgraced, or the authority or respect to your tribunals to be impaired.\nIn cases in which declaratory bills have been made, where by violence\nand corruption some fundamental part of the Constitution has been struck\nat, where they would damn the principle, censure the persons, and annul\nthe acts,--but where the law has been by the accident of human frailty\ndepraved or in a particular instance misunderstood, where you neither\nmean to rescind the acts nor to censure the persons, in such cases you\nhave taken the explanatory mode, and, without condemning what is done,\nyou direct the future judgment of the court.\n\nAll bills for the reformation of the law must be according to the\nsubject-matter, the circumstances, and the occasion, and are of four\nkinds:--1. Either the law is totally wanting, and then a new enacting\nstatute must be made to supply that want; or, 2. it is _defective_, then\na new law must be made to enforce it; 3. or it is opposed by power or\nfraud, and then an act must be made to declare it; 4. or it is rendered\ndoubtful and controverted, and then a law must be made to explain it.\nThese must be applied according to the exigence of the case: one is just\nas good as another of them. Miserable indeed would be the resources,\npoor and unfurnished the stores and magazines of legislation, if we were\nbound up to a little narrow form, and not able to frame our acts of\nParliament according to every disposition of our own minds and to every\npossible emergency of the commonwealth,--to make them declaratory,\nenforcing, explanatory, repealing, just in what mode or in what degree\nwe please.\n\nThose who think that the judges living and dead are to be condemned,\nthat your tribunals of justice are to be dishonored, that their acts and\njudgments on this business are to be rescinded,--they will undoubtedly\nvote against this bill, and for another sort.\n\nI am not of the opinion of those gentlemen who are against disturbing\nthe public repose: I like a clamor, whenever there is an abuse. The\nfire-bell at midnight disturbs your sleep, but it keeps you from being\nburned in your bed. The hue-and-cry alarms the county, but it preserves\nall the property of the province. All these clamors aim at _redress_.\nBut a clamor made merely for the purpose of rendering the people\ndiscontented with their situation, without an endeavor to give them a\npractical remedy, is indeed one of the worst acts of sedition.\n\nI have read and heard much upon the conduct of our courts in the\nbusiness of libels. I was extremely willing to enter into, and very free\nto act as facts should turn out on that inquiry, aiming constantly at\nremedy as the end of all clamor, all debate, all writing, and all\ninquiry; for which reason I did embrace, and do now with joy, this\nmethod of giving quiet to the courts, jurisdiction to juries, liberty to\nthe press, and satisfaction to the people. I thank my friends for what\nthey have done; I hope the public will one day reap the benefit of their\npious and judicious endeavors. They have now sown the seed; I hope they\nwill live to see the flourishing harvest. Their bill is sown in\nweakness; it will, I trust, be reaped in power. And then, however, we\nshall have reason to apply to them what my Lord Coke says was an\naphorism continually in the mouth of a great sage of the law,--\"Blessed\nbe not the complaining tongue, but _blessed be the amending hand_.\"\n\n\n\n\nLETTER\n\nON\n\nMR. DOWDESWELL'S BILL FOR EXPLAINING THE POWERS OF JURIES IN\nPROSECUTIONS FOR LIBELS.[2]\n\nAn improper and injurious account of the bill brought into the House of\nCommons by Mr. Dowdeswell has lately appeared in one of the public\npapers. I am not at all surprised at it, as I am not a stranger to the\nviews and politics of those who have caused it to be inserted.\n\nMr. Dowdeswell did not _bring in an enacting bill to give to juries_, as\nthe account expresses it, _a power to try law and fact in matter of\nlibel_. Mr. Dowdeswell brought in a bill to put an end to those doubts\nand controversies upon that subject which have unhappily distracted our\ncourts, to the great detriment of the public, and to the great dishonor\nof the national justice.\n\nThat it is the province of the jury, in informations and indictments for\nlibels, to try nothing more than the fact of the composing and of the\npublishing averments and innuendoes is a doctrine held at present by all\nthe judges of the King's Bench, probably by most of the judges of the\nkingdom. The same doctrine has been held pretty uniformly since the\nRevolution; and it prevails more or less with the jury, according to the\ndegree of respect with which they are disposed to receive the opinions\nof the bench.\n\nThis doctrine, which, when it prevails, tends to annihilate the benefit\nof trial by jury, and when it is rejected by juries, tends to weaken and\ndisgrace the authority of the judge, is not a doctrine proper for an\nEnglish judicature. For the sake both of judge and jury, the controversy\nought to be quieted, and the law ought to be settled in a manner clear,\ndefinitive, and constitutional, by the only authority competent to it,\nthe authority of the legislature.\n\nMr. Dowdeswell's bill was brought in for that purpose. It _gives_ to the\njury no _new_ powers; but, after reciting the doubts and controversies,\n(which nobody denies actually to subsist,) and after stating, that, if\njuries are not reputed competent to try the whole matter, the benefit of\ntrial by jury will be of none or imperfect effect, it enacts, not that\nthe jury _shall_ have the _power_, but that they shall be _held and\nreputed in law and right competent_ to try the whole matter laid in the\ninformation. The bill is directing to the judges concerning the opinion\nin law which they are known to hold upon this subject,--and does not in\nthe least imply that the jury were to derive a new right and power from\nthat bill, if it should have passed into an act of Parliament. The\nimplication is directly the contrary, and is as strongly conveyed as it\nis possible for those to do who state a doubt and controversy without\ncharging with criminality those persons who so doubted and so\ncontroverted.\n\nSuch a style is frequent in acts of this nature, and is that only which\nis suited to the occasion. An insidious use has been made of the words\n_enact_ and _declare_, as if they were formal and operative words of\nforce to distinguish different species of laws producing different\neffects. Nothing is more groundless; and I am persuaded no lawyer will\nstand to such an assertion. The gentlemen who say that a bill ought to\nhave been brought in upon the principle and in the style of the Petition\nof Right and Declaration of Right ought to consider how far the\ncircumstances are the same in the two cases, and how far they are\nprepared to go the whole lengths of the reason of those remarkable laws.\nMr. Dowdeswell and his friends are of opinion that the circumstances are\nnot the same, and that therefore the bill ought not to be the same.\n\nIt has been always disagreeable to the persons who compose that\nconnection to engage wantonly in a paper war, especially with gentlemen\nfor whom they have an esteem, and who seem to agree with them in the\ngreat grounds of their public conduct; but they can never consent to\npurchase any assistance from any persons by the forfeiture of their own\nreputation. They respect public opinion; and therefore, whenever they\nshall be called upon, they are ready to meet their adversaries, as soon\nas they please, before the tribunal of the public, and there to justify\nthe constitutional nature and tendency, the propriety, the prudence, and\nthe policy of their bill. They are equally ready to explain and to\njustify all their proceedings in the conduct of it,--equally ready to\ndefend their resolution to make it one object (if ever they should have\nthe power) in a plan of public reformation.\n\nYour correspondent ought to have been satisfied with the assistance\nwhich his friends have lent to administration in defeating that bill. He\nought not to make a feeble endeavor (I dare say, much to the displeasure\nof those friends) to disgrace the gentleman who brought it in. A measure\nproposed by Mr. Dowdeswell, seconded by Sir George Savile, and supported\nby their friends, will stand fair with the public, even though it should\nhave been opposed by that list of names (respectable names, I admit)\nwhich have been printed with so much parade and ostentation in your\npapers.\n\nIt is not true that Mr. Burke spoke in praise of Lord Mansfield. If he\nhad found anything in Lord Mansfield praiseworthy, I fancy he is not\ndisposed to make an apology to anybody for doing justice. Your\ncorrespondent's reason for asserting it is visible enough; and it is\naltogether in the strain of other misrepresentations. That gentlemen\nspoke decently of the judges, and he did no more; most of the gentlemen\nwho debated, on both sides, held the same language; and nobody will\nthink their zeal the less warm, or the less effectual, because it is not\nattended with scurrility and virulence.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[2] The manuscript from which this Letter is taken is in Mr. Burke's own\nhandwriting, but it does not appear to whom it was addressed, nor is\nthere any date affixed to it. It has been thought proper to insert it\nhere, as being connected with the subject of the foregoing Speech.\n\n\n\n\nLIBEL BILL.\n\n\nWhereas doubts and controversies have arisen at various times concerning\nthe right of jurors to try the whole matter laid in indictments and\ninformations for seditious and other libels; and whereas trial by juries\nwould be of none or imperfect effect, if the jurors were not held to be\ncompetent to try the whole matter aforesaid: for settling and clearing\nsuch doubts and controversies, and for securing to the subject the\neffectual and complete benefit of trial by juries in such indictments\nand informations,\n\nBe it enacted, &c, That jurors duly impanelled and sworn to try the\nissue between the king and the defendant upon any indictment or\ninformation for a seditious libel, or a libel under any other\ndenomination or description, shall be held and reputed competent, to all\nintents and purposes, in law and in right, to try every part of the\nmatter laid or charged in said indictment or information, comprehending\nthe criminal intention of the defendant, and the evil tendency of the\nlibel charged, as well as the mere fact of the publication thereof, and\nthe application by innuendo of blanks, initial letters, pictures, and\nother devices; any opinion, question, ambiguity, or doubt to the\ncontrary notwithstanding.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON\n\nA BILL FOR THE REPEAL OF THE MARRIAGE ACT.\n\nJUNE 15, 1781.\n\n\nThis act [_the Marriage Act_] stands upon _two_ principles: one, that\nthe power of marrying without consent of parents should not take place\ntill twenty-one years of age; the other, that all marriages should be\n_public_.\n\nThe proposition of the honorable mover goes to the first; and\nundoubtedly his motives are fair and honorable; and even, in that\nmeasure by which he would take away paternal power, he is influenced to\nit by filial piety; and he is led into it by a natural, and to him\ninevitable, but real mistake,--that the ordinary race of mankind advance\nas fast towards maturity of judgment and understanding as he does.\n\nThe question is not now, whether the law ought to acknowledge and\nprotect such a state of life as minority, nor whether the continuance\nwhich is fixed for that state be not improperly prolonged in the law of\nEngland. Neither of these in general are questioned. The only question,\nis, whether matrimony is to be taken out of the general rule, and\nwhether the minors of both sexes, without the consent of their parents,\nought to have a capacity of contracting the matrimonial, whilst they\nhave not the capacity of contracting any other engagement. Now it\nappears to me very clear that they ought not. It is a great mistake to\nthink that mere _animal_ propagation is the sole end of matrimony.\nMatrimony is instituted not only for the propagation of men, but for\ntheir nutrition, their education, their establishment, and for the\nanswering of all the purposes of a rational and moral being; and it is\nnot the duty of the community to consider alone of how many, but how\nuseful citizens it shall be composed.\n\nIt is most certain that men are well qualified for propagation long\nbefore they are sufficiently qualified even by bodily strength, much\nless by mental prudence, and by acquired skill in trades and\nprofessions, for the maintenance of a family. Therefore to enable and\nauthorize any man to introduce citizens into the commonwealth, before a\nrational security can be given that he may provide for them and educate\nthem as citizens ought to be provided for and educated, is totally\nincongruous with the whole order of society. Nay, it is fundamentally\nunjust; for a man that breeds a family without competent means of\nmaintenance incumbers other men with his children, and disables them so\nfar from maintaining their own. The improvident marriage of one man\nbecomes a tax upon the orderly and regular marriage of all the rest.\nTherefore those laws are wisely constituted that give a man the use of\nall his faculties at one time, that they may be mutually subservient,\naiding and assisting to each other: that the time of his completing his\nbodily strength, the time of mental discretion, the time of his having\nlearned his trade, and the time at which he has the disposition of his\nfortune, should be likewise the time in which he is permitted to\nintroduce citizens into the state, and to charge the community with\ntheir maintenance. To give a man a family during his apprenticeship,\nwhilst his very labor belongs to another,--to give him a family, when\nyou do not give him a fortune to maintain it,--to give him a family\nbefore he can contract any one of those engagements without which no\nbusiness can be carried on, would be to burden the state with families\nwithout any security for their maintenance. When parents themselves\nmarry their children, they become in some sort security to prevent the\nill consequences. You have this security in parental consent; the state\ntakes its security in the knowledge of human nature. Parents ordinarily\nconsider little the passion of their children and their present\ngratification. Don't fear the power of a father: it is kind to passion\nto give it time to cool. But their censures sometimes make me\nsmile,--sometimes, for I am very infirm, make me angry: _s\u00e6pe bilem,\ns\u00e6pe jocum movent_.\n\nIt gives me pain to differ on this occasion from many, if not most, of\nthose whom I honor and esteem. To suffer the grave animadversion and\ncensorial rebuke of the honorable gentleman who made the motion, of him\nwhose good-nature and good sense the House look upon with a particular\npartiality, whose approbation would have been one of the highest objects\nof my ambition,--this hurts me. It is said the Marriage Act is\naristocratic. I am accused, I am told abroad, of being a man of\naristocratic principles. If by aristocracy they mean the peers, I have\nno vulgar admiration, nor any vulgar antipathy towards them; I hold\ntheir order in cold and decent respect. I hold them to be of an absolute\nnecessity in the Constitution; but I think they are only good when kept\nwithin their proper bounds. I trust, whenever there has been a dispute\nbetween these Houses, the part I have taken has not been equivocal. If\nby the aristocracy (which, indeed, comes nearer to the point) they mean\nan adherence to the rich and powerful against the poor and weak, this\nwould, indeed, be a very extraordinary part. I have incurred the odium\nof gentlemen in this House for not paying sufficient regard to men of\nample property. When, indeed, the smallest rights of the poorest people\nin the kingdom are in question, I would set my face against any act of\npride and power countenanced by the highest that are in it; and if it\nshould come to the last extremity, and to a contest of blood,--God\nforbid! God forbid!--my part is taken: I would take my fate with the\npoor and low and feeble. But if these people came to turn their liberty\ninto a cloak for maliciousness, and to seek a privilege of exemption,\nnot from power, but from the rules of morality and virtuous discipline,\nthen I would join my hand to make them feel the force which a few united\nin a good cause have over a multitude of the profligate and ferocious.\n\nI wish the nature of the ground of repeal were considered with a little\nattention. It is said the act tends to accumulate, to keep up the power\nof great families, and to add wealth to wealth. It may be that it does\nso. It is impossible that any principle of law or government useful to\nthe community should be established without an advantage to those who\nhave the greatest stake in the country. Even some vices arise from it.\nThe same laws which secure property encourage avarice; and the fences\nmade about honest acquisition are the strong bars which secure the\nhoards of the miser. The dignities of magistracy are encouragements to\nambition, with all the black train of villanies which attend that wicked\npassion. But still we must have laws to secure property, and still we\nmust have ranks and distinctions and magistracy in the state,\nnotwithstanding their manifest tendency to encourage avarice and\nambition.\n\nBy affirming the parental authority throughout the state, parents in\nhigh rank will generally aim at, and will sometimes have the means, too,\nof preserving their minor children from any but wealthy or splendid\nmatches. But this authority preserves from a thousand misfortunes which\nembitter every part of every man's domestic life, and tear to pieces the\ndearest lies in human society.\n\nI am no peer, nor like to be,--but am in middle life, in the mass of\ncitizens; yet I should feel for a son who married a prostituted woman,\nor a daughter who married a dishonorable and prostituted man, as much as\nany peer in the realm.\n\nYou are afraid of the avaricious principle of fathers. But observe that\nthe avaricious principle is here mitigated very considerably. It is\navarice by proxy; it is avarice not working by itself or for itself, but\nthrough the medium of parental affection, meaning to procure good to its\noffspring. But the contest is not between love and avarice.\n\nWhile you would guard against the possible operation of this species of\nbenevolent avarice, the avarice of the father, you let loose another\nspecies of avarice,--that of the fortune-hunter, unmitigated,\nunqualified. To show the motives, who has heard of a man running away\nwith a woman not worth sixpence? Do not call this by the name of the\nsweet and best passion,--love. It is robbery,--not a jot better than any\nother.\n\nWould you suffer the sworn enemy of his family, his life, and his\nhonor, possibly the shame and scandal and blot of human society, to\ndebauch from his care and protection the dearest pledge that he has on\nearth, the sole comfort of his declining years, almost in infantine\nimbecility,--and with it to carry into the hands of his enemy, and the\ndisgrace of Nature, the dear-earned substance of a careful and laborious\nlife? Think of the daughter of an honest, virtuous parent allied to vice\nand infamy. Think of the hopeful son tied for life by the meretricious\narts of the refuse of mercenary and promiscuous lewdness. Have mercy on\nthe youth of both sexes; protect them from their ignorance and\ninexperience; protect one part of life by the wisdom of another; protect\nthem by the wisdom of laws and the care of Nature.\n\n\n\n\nSPEECH\n\nON A\n\nMOTION MADE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS,\n\nFEBRUARY 17, 1772,\n\nFOR LEAVE TO BRING IN\n\nA BILL TO QUIET THE POSSESSIONS OF THE SUBJECT AGAINST DORMANT CLAIMS OF\nTHE CHURCH.\n\n\nIf I considered this bill as an attack upon the Church, brought in for\nthe purpose of impoverishing and weakening the clergy, I should be one\nof the foremost in an early and vigorous opposition to it.\n\nI admit, the same reasons do not press for limiting the claims of the\nChurch that existed for limiting the crown, by that wisest of all laws\nwhich, has secured the property, the peace, and the freedom of this\ncountry from the most dangerous mode of attack which could be made upon\nthem all.\n\nI am very sensible of the propriety of maintaining that venerable body\nwith decency,--and with more than mere decency. I would maintain it\naccording to the ranks wisely established in it, with that sober and\ntemperate splendor that is suitable to a sacred character invested with\nhigh dignity.\n\nThere ought to be a symmetry between all the parts and orders of a\nstate. A _poor_ clergy in an _opulent_ nation can have little\ncorrespondence with the body it is to instruct, and it is a disgrace to\nthe public sentiments of religion. Such irreligious frugality is even\nbad economy, as the little that is given is entirely thrown away. Such\nan impoverished and degraded clergy in quiet tunes could never execute\ntheir duty, and in time of disorder would infinitely aggravate the\npublic confusions.\n\nThat the property of the Church is a favored and privileged property I\nreadily admit. It is made with great wisdom; since a perpetual body,\nwith a perpetual duty, ought to have a perpetual provision.\n\nThe question is not, the property of the Church, or its security. The\nquestion is, whether you will render the principle of prescription a\nprinciple of the law of this laud, and incorporate it with the whole of\nyour jurisprudence,--whether, having given it first against the laity,\nthen against the crown, you will now extend it to the Church.\n\nThe acts which were made, giving limitation against the laity, were not\nacts against the property of those who might be precluded by\nlimitations. The act of quiet against the crown was not against the\ninterests of the crown, but against a power of vexation.\n\nIf the principle of prescription be not a constitution of positive law,\nbut a principle of natural equity, then to hold it out against any man\nis not doing him injustice.\n\nThat _tithes_ are due of common right is readily granted; and if this\nprinciple had been kept in its original straitness, it might, indeed, be\nsupposed that to plead an exemption was to plead a long-continued\n_fraud_, and that no man could _be deceived_ in such a title,--as the\nmoment he bought land, he must know that he bought land tithed:\nprescription could not aid him, for prescription can only attach on a\nsupposed _bon\u00e2 fide_ possession. But the fact is, that the principle has\nbeen broken in upon.\n\nHere it is necessary to distinguish two sorts of property.\n\n1. Land carries no _mark_ on it to distinguish it as ecclesiastical, as\ntithes do, which are a _charge_ on land; therefore, though it had been\nmade _inalienable_, it ought perhaps to be subject to limitation. It\nmight _bon\u00e2 fide_ be held.\n\nBut, first, it was not originally inalienable, no, not by the Canon Law,\nuntil the restraining act of the 11th [1st?] of Elizabeth. But the great\nrevolution of the dissolution of monasteries, by the 31st Hen., ch. 13,\nhas so mixed and confounded ecclesiastical with lay property, that a man\nmay by every rule of good faith be possessed of it. The statute of Queen\nElizabeth, ann. 1, ch. 1, [?] gave away the bishop's lands.\n\nSo far as to _lands_.\n\nAs to _tithes_, they are not things in their own nature subject to be\nbarred by prescription upon the general principle. But tithes and Church\nlands, by the statutes of Henry VIII. and the 11th [1st?] Eliz., have\nbecome objects _in commercio_: for by coming to the crown they became\ngrantable in that way to the subject, and a great part of the Church\nlands passed through the crown to the people.\n\nBy passing to the king, tithes became property to a mixed party; by\npassing from the king, they became absolutely _lay_ property: the\npartition-wall was broken down, and tithes and Church possession became\nno longer synonymous terms. No [A?] man, therefore, might become a fair\npurchaser of tithes, and of exemption from tithes.\n\nBy the statute of Elizabeth, the lands took the same course, (I will not\ninquire by what justice, good policy, and decency,) but they passed into\nlay lands, became the object of purchases for valuable consideration,\nand of marriage settlements.\n\nNow, if tithes might come to a layman, land in the hands of a layman\nmight be also tithe-free. So that there was an object which a layman\nmight become seized of equitably and _bon\u00e2 fide_; there was something\non which a prescription might attach, the end of which is, to secure the\nnatural well-meaning ignorance of men, and to secure property by the\nbest of all principles, continuance.\n\nI have therefore shown that a layman may be equitably seized of Church\nlands,--2. of tithes,--3. of exemption from tithes; and you will not\ncontend that there should be no prescription. Will you say that the\nalienations made before the 11th of Elizabeth shall not stand good?\n\nI do not mean anything against the Church, her dignities, her honors,\nher privileges, or her possessions. I should wish even to enlarge them\nall: not that the Church of England is incompetently endowed. This is to\ntake nothing from her but the power of making herself odious. If she be\nsecure herself, she can have no objection to the security of others. For\nI hope she is secure from lay-bigotry and anti-priestcraft, for\ncertainly such things there are. I heartily wish to see the Church\nsecure in such possessions as will not only enable her ministers to\npreach the Gospel with ease, but of such a kind as will enable them to\npreach it with its full effect, so that the pastor shall not have the\ninauspicious appearance of a tax-gatherer,--such a maintenance as is\ncompatible with the civil prosperity and improvement of their country.\n\n\n\n\nHINTS\n\nFOR\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE DRAMA.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE.\n\n\nThese hints appear to have been first thoughts, which were probably\nintended to be amplified and connected, and so worked up into a regular\ndissertation. No date appears of the time when they were written, but it\nwas probably before the year 1765.\n\n\n\n\nHINTS\n\nFOR AN ESSAY ON THE DRAMA.\n\n\nIt is generally observed that no species of writing is so difficult as\nthe dramatic. It must, indeed, appear so, were we to consider it upon\none side only. It is a dialogue, or species of composition which in\nitself requires all the mastery of a complete writer with grace and\nspirit to support. We may add, that it must have a fable, too, which\nnecessarily requires invention, one of the rarest qualities of the human\nmind. It would surprise us, if we were to examine the thing critically,\nhow few good original stories there are in the world. The most\ncelebrated borrow from each other, and are content with some new turn,\nsome corrective, addition, or embellishment. Many of the most celebrated\nwriters in that way can claim no other merit. I do not think La Fontaine\nhas one original story. And if we pursue him to those who were his\noriginals, the Italian writers of tales and novels, we shall find most\neven of them drawing from antiquity, or borrowing from the Eastern\nworld, or adopting and decorating the little popular stories they found\ncurrent and traditionary in their country. Sometimes they laid the\nfoundation of their tale in real fact. Even after all their borrowing\nfrom so many funds, they are still far from opulent. How few stories has\nBoccace which are tolerable, and how much fewer are there which you\nwould desire to read twice! But this general difficulty is greatly\nincreased, when we come to the drama. Here a fable is essential,--a\nfable which is to be conducted with rapidity, clearness, consistency,\nand surprise, without any, or certainly with very little, aid from\nnarrative. This is the reason that generally nothing is more dull in\ntelling than the plot of a play. It is seldom or never a good story in\nitself; and in this particular, some of the greatest writers, both in\nancient and modern theatres, have failed in the most miserable manner.\nIt is well a play has still so many requisites to complete it, that,\nthough the writer should not succeed in these particulars, and therefore\nshould be so far from perfection, there are still enough left in which\nhe may please, at less expense of labor to himself, and perhaps, too,\nwith more real advantage to his auditory. It is, indeed, very difficult\nhappily to excite the passions and draw the characters of men; but our\nnature leads us more directly to such paintings than to the invention of\na story. We are imitative animals; and we are more naturally led to\nimitate the exertions of character and passion than to observe and\ndescribe a series of events, and to discover those relations and\ndependencies in them which will please. Nothing can be more rare than\nthis quality. Herein, as I believe, consists the difference between the\ninventive and the descriptive genius. By the inventive genius I mean the\ncreator of agreeable facts and incidents; by the descriptive, the\ndelineator of characters, manners, and passions. Imitation calls us to\nthis; we are in some cases almost forced to it, and it is comparatively\neasy. More observe the characters of men than the order of things: to\nthe one we are formed by Nature, and by that sympathy from which we are\nso strongly led to take a part in the passions and manners of our\nfellow-men; the other is, as it were, foreign and extrinsical. Neither,\nindeed, can anything be done, even in this, without invention; but it is\nobvious that this invention is of a kind altogether different from the\nformer. However, though the more sublime genius and the greatest art are\nrequired for the former, yet the latter, as it is more common and more\neasy, so it is more useful, and administers more directly to the great\nbusiness of life.\n\nIf the drama requires such a combination of talents, the most common of\nwhich is very rarely to be found and difficult to be exerted, it is not\nsurprising, at a time when almost all kinds of poetry are cultivated\nwith little success, to find that we have done no great matters in this.\nMany causes may be assigned for our present weakness in that oldest and\nmost excellent branch of philosophy, poetical learning, and particularly\nin what regards the theatre. I shall here only consider what appears to\nme to be one of these causes: I mean the wrong notion of the art itself,\nwhich begins to grow fashionable, especially among people of an elegant\nturn of mind with a weak understanding; and these are they that form the\ngreat body of the idle part of every polite and civilized nation. The\nprevailing system of that class of mankind is indolence. This gives them\nan aversion to all strong movements. It infuses a delicacy of sentiment,\nwhich, when it is real, and accompanied with a justness of thought, is\nan amiable quality, and favorable to the fine arts; but when it comes\nto make the whole of the character, it injures things more excellent\nthan those which it improves, and degenerates into a false refinement,\nwhich diffuses a languor and breathes a frivolous air over everything\nwhich it can influence....\n\nHaving differed in my opinion about dramatic composition, and\nparticularly in regard to comedy, with a gentleman for whose character\nand talents I have a very high respect, I thought myself obliged, on\naccount of that difference, to a new and more exact examination of the\ngrounds upon which I had formed my opinions. I thought it would be\nimpossible to come to any clear and definite idea on this subject,\nwithout remounting to the natural passions or dispositions of men, which\nfirst gave rise to this species of writing; for from these alone its\nnature, its limits, and its true character can be determined.\n\nThere are but four general principles which can move men to interest\nthemselves in the characters of others, and they may be classed under\nthe heads of good and ill opinion: on the side of the first may be\nclassed admiration and love, hatred and contempt on the other. And these\nhave accordingly divided poetry into two very different kinds,--the\npanegyrical, and the satirical; under one of which heads all genuine\npoetry falls (for I do not reckon the didactic as poetry, in the\nstrictness of speech).\n\nWithout question, the subject of all poetry was originally direct and\npersonal. Fictitious character is a refinement, and comparatively\nmodern; for abstraction is in its nature slow, and always follows the\nprogress of philosophy. Men had always friends and enemies before they\nknew the exact nature of vice and virtue; they naturally, and with\ntheir best powers of eloquence, whether in prose or verse, magnified and\nset off the one, vilified and traduced the other.\n\nThe first species of composition in either way was probably some\ngeneral, indefinite topic of praise or blame, expressed in a song or\nhymn, which is the most common and simple kind of panegyric and satire.\nBut as nothing tended to set their hero or subject in a more forcible\nlight than some story to their advantage or prejudice, they soon\nintroduced a narrative, and thus improved the composition into a greater\nvariety of pleasure to the hearer, and to a more forcible instrument of\nhonor or disgrace to the subject.\n\nIt is natural with men, when they relate any action with any degree of\nwarmth, to represent the parties to it talking as the occasion requires;\nand this produces that mixed species of poetry, composed of narrative\nand dialogue, which is very universal in all languages, and of which\nHomer is the noblest example in any. This mixed kind of poetry seems\nalso to be most perfect, as it takes in a variety of situations,\ncircumstances, reflections, and descriptions, which must be rejected on\na more limited plan.\n\nIt must be equally obvious, that men, in relating a story in a forcible\nmanner, do very frequently mimic the looks, gesture, and voice of the\nperson concerned, and for the time, as it were, put themselves into his\nplace. This gave the hint to the drama, or acting; and observing the\npowerful effect of this in public exhibitions....\n\nBut the drama, the most artificial and complicated of all the poetical\nmachines, was not yet brought to perfection; and like those animals\nwhich change their state, some parts of the old narrative still adhered.\nIt still had a chorus, it still had a prologue to explain the design;\nand the perfect drama, an automaton supported and moved without any\nforeign help, was formed late and gradually. Nay, there are still\nseveral parts of the world in which it is not, and probably never may\nbe, formed. The Chinese drama.\n\nThe drama, being at length formed, naturally adhered to the first\ndivision of poetry, the satirical and panegyrical, which made tragedy\nand comedy.\n\nMen, in praising, naturally applaud the dead. Tragedy celebrated the\ndead.\n\nGreat men are never sufficiently shown but in struggles. Tragedy turned,\ntherefore, on melancholy and affecting subjects,--a sort of\nthrenodia,--its passions, therefore, admiration, terror, and pity.\n\nComedy was satirical. Satire is best on the living.\n\nIt was soon found that the best way to depress an hated character was to\nturn it into ridicule; and therefore the greater vices, which in the\nbeginning were lashed, gave place to the _contemptible_. Its passion,\ntherefore, became ridicule.\n\nEvery writing must have its characteristic passion. What is that of\ncomedy, if not ridicule?\n\nComedy, therefore, is a satirical poem, representing an action carried\non by dialogue, to excite laughter by describing ludicrous characters.\nSee Aristotle.\n\nTherefore, to preserve this definition, the ridicule must be either in\nthe action or characters, or both.\n\nAn action may be ludicrous, independent of the characters, by the\nludicrous situations and accidents which may happen to the characters.\n\nBut the action is not so important as the characters. We see this every\nday upon the stage.\n\nWhat are the characters fit for comedy?\n\nIt appears that no part of human life which may be subject to ridicule\nis exempted from comedy; for wherever men run into the absurd, whether\nhigh or low, they may be the subject of satire, and consequently of\ncomedy. Indeed, some characters, as kings, are exempted through decency;\nothers might be too insignificant. Some are of opinion that persons in\nbetter life are so polished that their tone characters and the real bent\nof their humor cannot appear. For my own part, I cannot give entire\ncredit to this remark. For, in the first place, I believe that\ngood-breeding is not so universal or strong in any part of life as to\noverrule the real characters and strong passions of such men as would be\nproper objects of the drama. Secondly, it is not the ordinary,\ncommonplace discourse of assemblies that is to be represented in comedy.\nThe parties are to be put in situations in which their passions are\nroused, and their real characters called forth; and if their situations\nare judiciously adapted to the characters, there is no doubt but they\nwill appear in all their force, choose what situation of life you\nplease. Let the politest man alive game, and feel at loss; let this be\nhis character; and his politeness will never hide it, nay, it will put\nit forward with greater violence, and make a more forcible contrast.[3]\n\nBut genteel comedy puts these characters, not in their passionate, but\nin their genteel light; makes elegant cold conversation, and virtuous\npersonages.[4] Such sort of pictures disagreeable.\n\nVirtue and politeness not proper for comedy; for they have too much or\nno movement.\n\nThey are not good in tragedy, much less here.\n\nThe greater virtues, fortitude, justice, and the like, too serious and\nsublime.\n\nIt is not every story, every character, every incident, but those only\nwhich answer their end.--Painting of artificial things not good; a thing\nbeing useful does not therefore make it most pleasing in\npicture.--Natural manners, good and bad.--Sentiment. In common affairs\nand common life, virtuous sentiments are not even the character of\nvirtuous men; we cannot bear these sentiments, but when they are pressed\nout, as it were, by great exigencies, and a certain contention which is\nabove the general style of comedy....\n\nThe first character of propriety the Lawsuit possesses in an eminent\ndegree. The plot of the play is an iniquitous suit; there can be no\nfitter persons to be concerned in the active part of it than low,\nnecessitous lawyers of bad character, and profligates of desperate\nfortune. On the other hand, in the passive part, if an honest and\nvirtuous man had been made the object of their designs, or a weak man of\ngood intentions, every successful step they should take against him\nought rather to fill the audience with horror than pleasure and mirth;\nand if in the conclusion their plots should be baffled, even this would\ncome too late to prevent that ill impression. But in the Lawsuit this is\nadmirably avoided: for the character chosen is a rich, avaricious\nusurer: the pecuniary distresses of such a person can never be looked\nupon with horror; and if he should be even handled unjustly, we always\nwait his delivery with patience.\n\nNow with regard to the display of the character, which is the essential\npart of the plot, nothing can be more finely imagined than to draw a\nmiser in law. If you draw him inclined to love and marriage, you depart\nfrom the height of his character in some measure, as Moli\u00e8re has done.\nExpenses of this kind he may easily avoid. If you draw him in law, to\nadvance brings expense, to draw back brings expense; and the character\nis tortured and brought out at every moment.\n\nA sort of notion has prevailed that a comedy might subsist without\nhumor. It is an idle disquisition, whether a story in private life,\nrepresented in dialogues, may not be carried on with some degree of\nmerit without humor. It may unquestionably; but what shines chiefly in\ncomedy, the painting the manners of life, must be in a great measure\nwanting. A character which has nothing extravagant, wrong, or singular\nin it can affect but very little: and this is what makes Aristotle draw\nthe great line of distinction between tragedy and comedy. [Greek: En\naut\u00ea de t\u00ea diaphora kai \u00ea trag\u00f4dia], &c. Arist. Poet. Ch. II.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is not a more absurd mistake than that whatever may not\nunnaturally happen in an action is of course to be admitted into every\npainting of it. In Nature, the great and the little, the serious and the\nludicrous, things the most disproportionate the one to the other, are\nfrequently huddled together in much confusion, And what then? It is the\nbusiness of Art first to choose some determinate end and purpose, and\nthen to select those parts of Nature, and those only, which conduce to\nthat end, avoiding with most religious exactness the intermixture of\nanything which would contradict it. Else the whole idea of propriety,\nthat is, the only distinction between the just and chimerical in the\narts, would be utterly lost. An hero eats, drinks, and sleeps, like\nother men; but to introduce such scenes on the stage, because they are\nnatural, would be ridiculous. And why? Because they have nothing to do\nwith the end for which the play is written. The design of a piece might\nbe utterly destroyed by the most natural incidents in the world. Boileau\nhas somewhere criticized with what surely is a very just severity on\nAriosto, for introducing a ludicrous tale from his host to one of the\nprincipal persons of his poem, though the story has great merit in its\nway. Indeed, that famous piece is so monstrous and extravagant in all\nits parts that one is not particularly shocked with this indecorum. But,\nas Boileau has observed, if Virgil had introduced \u00c6neas listening to a\nbawdy story from his host, what an episode had this formed in that\ndivine poem! Suppose, instead of \u00c6neas, he had represented the impious\nMezentius as entertaining himself in that manner; such a thing would not\nhave been without probability, but it would have clashed with the very\nfirst principles of taste, and, I would say, of common sense.\n\nI have heard of a celebrated picture of the Last Supper,--and if I do\nnot mistake, it is said to be the work of some of the Flemish masters:\nin this picture all the personages are drawn in a manner suitable to\nthe solemnity of the occasion; but the painter has filled the void under\nthe table with a dog gnawing bones. Who does not see the possibility of\nsuch an incident, and, at the same time, the absurdity of introducing it\non such an occasion! Innumerable such cases might be stated. It is not\nthe incompatibility or agreeableness of incidents, characters, or\nsentiments with the probable in fact, but with propriety in design, that\nadmits or excludes them from a place in any composition. We may as well\nurge that stones, sand, clay, and metals lie in a certain manner in the\nearth, as a reason for building with these materials and in that manner,\nas for writing according to the accidental disposition of characters in\nNature. I have, I am afraid, been longer than it might seem necessary in\nrefuting such a notion; but such authority can only be opposed by a good\ndeal of reason. We are not to forget that a play is, or ought to be, a\nvery short composition; that, if one passion or disposition is to be\nwrought up with tolerable success, I believe it is as much as can in any\nreason be expected. If there be scenes of distress and scenes of humor,\nthey must either be in a double or single plot. If there be a double\nplot, there are in fact two. If they be in checkered scenes of serious\nand comic, you are obliged continually to break both the thread of the\nstory and the continuity of the passion,--if in the same scene, as Mrs.\nV. seems to recommend, it is needless to observe how absurd the mixture\nmust be, and how little adapted to answer the genuine end of any\npassion. It is odd to observe the progress of bad taste: for this mixed\npassion being universally proscribed in the regions of tragedy, it has\ntaken refuge and shelter in comedy, where it seems firmly established,\nthough no reason can be assigned why we may not laugh in the one as well\nas weep in the other. The true reason of this mixture is to be sought\nfor in the manners which are prevalent amongst a people. It has become\nvery fashionable to affect delicacy, tenderness of heart, and fine\nfeeling, and to shun all imputation of rusticity. Much mirth is very\nforeign to this character; they have introduced, therefore, a sort of\nneutral writing.\n\nNow as to characters, they have dealt in them as in the passions. There\nare none but lords and footmen. One objection to characters in high life\nis, that almost all wants, and a thousand happy circumstances arising\nfrom them, being removed from it, their whole mode of life is too\nartificial, and not so fit for painting; and the contrary opinion has\narisen from a mistake, that whatever has merit in the reality\nnecessarily must have it in the representation. I have observed that\npersons, and especially women, in lower life, and of no breeding, are\nfond of such representations. It seems like introducing them into good\ncompany, and the honor compensates the dulness of the entertainment.\n\nFashionable manners being fluctuating is another reason for not choosing\nthem.--Sensible comedy,--talking sense a dull thing--....\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] Sic in MS.\n\n[4] Sic in MS.\n\n\n\n\nAN ESSAY\n\nTOWARDS AN\n\nABRIDGMENT OF THE ENGLISH HISTORY.\n\nIN THREE BOOKS.\n\n\n\n\nAN\n\nABRIDGMENT OF ENGLISH HISTORY.\n\nBOOK I.\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nCAUSES OF THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE ROMANS AND BRITONS.--CAESAR'S TWO\nINVASIONS OF BRITAIN.\n\n\nIn order to obtain a clear notion of the state of Europe before the\nuniversal prevalence of the Roman power, the whole region is to be\ndivided into two principal parts, which we shall call Northern and\nSouthern Europe. The northern part is everywhere separated from the\nsouthern by immense and continued chains of mountains. From Greece it is\ndivided by Mount H\u00e6mus; from Spain by the Pyrenees; from Italy by the\nAlps. This division is not made by an arbitrary or casual distribution\nof countries. The limits are marked out by Nature, and in these early\nages were yet further distinguished by a considerable difference in the\nmanners and usages of the nations they divided.\n\nIf we turn our eyes to the northward of these boundaries, a vast mass of\nsolid continent lies before us, stretched out from the remotest shore of\nTartary quite to the Atlantic Ocean. A line drawn through this extent,\nfrom east to west, would pass over the greatest body of unbroken land\nthat is anywhere known upon the globe. This tract, in a course of some\ndegrees to the northward, is not interrupted by any sea; neither are the\nmountains so disposed as to form any considerable obstacle to hostile\nincursions. Originally it was all inhabited but by one sort of people,\nknown by one common denomination of Scythians. As the several tribes of\nthis comprehensive name lay in many parts greatly exposed, and as by\ntheir situation and customs they were much inclined to attack, and by\nboth ill qualified for defence, throughout the whole of that immense\nregion there was for many ages a perpetual flux and reflux of barbarous\nnations. None of their commonwealths continued long enough established\non any particular spot to settle and to subside into a regular order,\none tribe continually overpowering or thrusting out another. But as\nthese were only the mixtures of Scythians with Scythians, the triumphs\nof barbarians over barbarians, there were revolutions in empire, but\nnone in manners. The Northern Europe, until some parts of it were\nsubdued by the progress of the Roman arms, remained almost equally\ncovered with all the ruggedness of primitive barbarism.\n\nThe southern part was differently circumstanced. Divided, as we have\nsaid, from the northern by great mountains, it is further divided within\nitself by considerable seas. Spain, Greece, and Italy are peninsulas. By\nthese advantages of situation the inhabitants were preserved from those\ngreat and sudden revolutions to which the Northern world had been always\nliable; and being confined within a space comparatively narrow, they\nwere restrained from wandering into a pastoral and unsettled life. It\nwas upon one side only that they could be invaded by land. Whoever made\nan attempt on any other part must necessarily have arrived in ships of\nsome magnitude, and must therefore have in a degree been cultivated, if\nnot by the liberal, at least by the mechanic arts. In fact, the\nprincipal colonies-which we find these countries to have received were\nsent from Phoenicia, or the Lesser Asia, or Egypt, the great fountains\nof the ancient civility and learning. And they became more or less,\nearlier or later, polished, as they were situated nearer to or further\nfrom these celebrated sources. Though I am satisfied, from a comparison\nof the Celtic tongues with the Greek and Roman, that the original\ninhabitants of Italy and Greece were of the same race with the people of\nNorthern Europe, yet it is certain they profited so much by their\nguarded situation, by the mildness of their climate favorable to\nhumanity, and by the foreign infusions, that they came greatly to excel\nthe Northern nations in every respect, and particularly in the art and\ndiscipline of war. For, not being so strong in their bodies, partly from\nthe temperature of their climate, partly from a degree of softness\ninduced by a more cultivated life, they applied themselves to remove the\nfew inconveniences of a settled society by the advantages which it\naffords in art, disposition, and obedience; and as they consisted of\nmany small states, their people were well exercised in arms, and\nsharpened against each other by continual war.\n\nSuch was the situation of Greece and Italy from a very remote period.\nThe Gauls and other Northern nations, envious of their wealth, and\ndespising the effeminacy of their manners, often invaded them with,\nnumerous, though ill-formed armies. But their greatest and most frequent\nattempts were against Italy, their connection with which country alone\nwe shall here consider. In the course of these wars, the superiority of\nthe Roman discipline over the Gallic ferocity was at length\ndemonstrated. The Gauls, notwithstanding the numbers with which their\nirruptions were made, and the impetuous courage by which that nation was\ndistinguished, had no permanent success. They were altogether unskilful\neither in improving their victories or repairing their defeats. But the\nRomans, being governed by a most wise order of men, perfected by a\ntraditionary experience in the policy of conquest, drew some advantage\nfrom every turn of fortune, and, victorious or vanquished, persisted in\none uniform and comprehensive plan of breaking to pieces everything\nwhich endangered their safety or obstructed their greatness. For, after\nhaving more than once expelled the Northern invaders out of Italy, they\npursued them over the Alps; and carrying the war into the country of\ntheir enemy, under several able generals, and at last under Caius C\u00e6sar,\nthey reduced all the Gauls from the Mediterranean Sea to the Rhine and\nthe Ocean. During the progress of this decisive war, some of the\nmaritime nations of Gaul had recourse for assistance to the neighboring\nisland of Britain. Prom thence they received considerable succors; by\nwhich means this island first came to be known with any exactness by the\nRomans, and first drew upon it the attention of that victorious people.\n\nThough C\u00e6sar had reduced Gaul, he perceived clearly that a great deal\nwas still wanting to make his conquest secure and lasting. That\nextensive country, inhabited by a multitude of populous and fierce\nnations, had been rather overrun than conquered. The Gauls were not yet\nbroken to the yoke, which they bore with murmuring and discontent. The\nruins of their own strength were still considerable; and they had hopes\nthat the Germans, famous for their invincible courage and their ardent\nlove of liberty, would be at hand powerfully to second any endeavors for\nthe recovery of their freedom; they trusted that the Britons, of their\nown blood, allied in manners and religion, and whose help they had\nlately experienced, would not then be wanting to the same cause. C\u00e6sar\nwas not ignorant of these dispositions. He therefore judged, that, if he\ncould confine the attention of the Germans and Britons to their own\ndefence, so that the Gauls, on which side soever they turned, should\nmeet nothing but the Roman arms, they must soon be deprived of all hope,\nand compelled to seek their safety in an entire submission.\n\nThese were the public reasons which made the invasion of Britain and\nGermany an undertaking, at that particular time, not unworthy a wise and\nable general. But these enterprises, though reasonable in themselves,\nwere only subservient to purposes of more importance, and which he had\nmore at heart. Whatever measures he thought proper to pursue on the side\nof Germany, or on that of Britain, it was towards Rome that he always\nlooked, and to the furtherance of his interest there that all his\nmotions were really directed. That republic had receded from many of\nthose maxims by which her freedom had been hitherto preserved under the\nweight of so vast an empire. Rome now contained many citizens of immense\nwealth, eloquence, and ability. Particular men were more considered than\nthe republic; and the fortune and genius of the Roman people, which\nformerly had been thought equal to everything, came now to be less\nrelied upon than the abilities of a few popular men. The war with the\nGauls, as the old and most dangerous enemy of Rome, was of the last\nimportance; and C\u00e6sar had the address to obtain the conduct of it for a\nterm of years, contrary to one of the most established principles of\ntheir government. But this war was finished before that term was\nexpired, and before the designs which he entertained against the liberty\nof his country were fully ripened. It was therefore necessary to find\nsome pretext for keeping his army on foot; it was necessary to employ\nthem in some enterprise that might at once raise his character, keep his\ninterest alive at Rome, endear him to his troops, and by that means\nweaken the ties which held them to their country.\n\nFrom this motive, colored by reasons plausible and fit to be avowed, he\nresolved in one and the same year, and even when that was almost\nexpired, upon two expeditions, the objects of which lay at a great\ndistance from each other, and were as yet untouched by the Roman arms.\nAnd first he resolved to pass the Rhine, and penetrate into Germany.\n\nC\u00e6sar spent but twenty-eight days in his German expedition. In ten he\nbuilt his admirable bridge across the Rhine; in eighteen he performed\nall he proposed by entering that country. When the Germans saw the\nbarrier of their river so easily overcome, and Nature herself, as it\nwere, submitted to the yoke, they were struck with astonishment, and\nnever after ventured to oppose the Romans in the field. The most\nobnoxious of the German countries were ravaged, the strong awed, the\nweak taken into protection. Thus an alliance being formed, always the\nfirst step of the Roman policy, and not only a pretence, but a means,\nbeing thereby acquired of entering the country upon any future occasion,\nhe marched back through Gaul to execute a design of much the same nature\nand extent in Britain.\n\n[Sidenote: B.C. 55.]\n\nThe inhabitants of that island, who were divided into a great number of\npetty nations, under a very coarse and disorderly frame of government,\ndid not find it easy to plan any effectual measures for their defence.\nIn order, however, to gain time in this exigency, they sent ambassadors\nto C\u00e6sar with terms of submission. C\u00e6sar could not colorably reject\ntheir offers. But as their submission rather clashed than coincided with\nhis real designs, he still persisted in his resolution of passing over\ninto Britain; and accordingly embarked with the infantry of two legions\nat the port of Itium.[5] His landing was obstinately disputed by the\nnatives, and brought on a very hot and doubtful engagement. But the\nsuperior dispositions of so accomplished a commander, the resources of\nthe Roman discipline, and the effect of the military engines on the\nunpractised minds of a barbarous people prevailed at length over the\nbest resistance which could be made by rude numbers and mere bravery.\nThe place where the Romans first entered this island was somewhere near\nDeal, and the time fifty-five years before the birth of Christ.\n\nThe Britons, who defended their country with so much resolution in the\nengagement, immediately after it lost all their spirit. They had laid no\nregular plan, for their defence. Upon their first failure they seamed to\nhave no resources left. On the slightest loss they betook themselves to\ntreaty and submission; upon the least appearance in their favor they\nwere as ready to resume their arms, without any regard to their former\nengagements: a conduct which demonstrates that our British ancestors had\nno regular polity with a standing coercive power. The ambassadors which\nthey sent to C\u00e6sar laid all the blame of a war carried on by great\narmies upon the rashness of their young men, and they declared that the\nruling people had no share in these hostilities. This is exactly the\nexcuse which the savages of America, who have no regular government,\nmake at this day upon the like occasions; but it would be a strange\napology from one of the modern states of Europe that had employed armies\nagainst another. C\u00e6sar reprimanded them for the inconstancy of their\nbehavior, and ordered them to bring hostages to secure their fidelity,\ntogether with provisions for his army. But whilst the Britons were\nengaged in the treaty, and on that account had free access to the Roman\ncamp, they easily observed that the army of the invaders was neither\nnumerous nor well provided; and having about the same time received\nintelligence that the Roman fleet had suffered in a storm, they again\nchanged their measures, and came to a resolution of renewing the war.\nSome prosperous actions against the Roman foraging parties inspired them\nwith great confidence. They were betrayed by their success into a\ngeneral action in the open field. Here the disciplined troops obtained\nan easy and complete victory; and the Britons were taught the error of\ntheir conduct at the expense of a terrible slaughter.\n\nTwice defeated, they had recourse once more to submission. C\u00e6sar, who\nfound the winter approaching, provisions scarce, and his fleet not fit\nto contend with that rough and tempestuous sea in a winter voyage,\nhearkened to their proposals, exacting double the number of the former\nhostages. He then set sail with his whole army.\n\nIn this first expedition into Britain, C\u00e6sar did not make, nor indeed\ncould he expect, any considerable advantage. He acquired a knowledge of\nthe sea-coast, and of the country contiguous to it; and he became\nacquainted with the force, the manner of fighting, and the military\ncharacter of the people. To compass these purposes he did not think a\npart of the summer ill-bestowed. But early in the next he prepared to\nmake a more effective use of the experience he had gained. He embarked\nagain at the same port, but with a more numerous army. The Britons, on\ntheir part, had prepared more regularly for their defence in this than\nthe former year. Several of those states which were nearest and most\nexposed to the danger had, during C\u00e6sar's absence, combined for their\ncommon safety, and chosen Cassibelan, a chief of power and reputation,\nfor the leader of their union. They seemed resolved to dispute the\nlanding of the Romans with their former intrepidity. But when they\nbeheld the sea covered, as far as the eye could reach, with the\nmultitude of the enemy's ships, (for they were eight hundred sail,) they\ndespaired of defending the coast, they retired into the woods' and\nfastnesses, and C\u00e6sar landed his army without opposition.\n\nThe Britons now saw the necessity of altering their former method of\nwar. They no longer, therefore, opposed the Romans in the open field;\nthey formed frequent ambuscades; they divided themselves into light\nflying parties, and continually harassed the enemy on his march. This\nplan, though in their circumstances the most judicious, was attended\nwith no great success. C\u00e6sar forced some of their strongest\nintrenchments, and then carried the war directly into the territories of\nCassibelan.\n\nThe only fordable passage which he could find over the Thames was\ndefended by a row of palisadoes which lined the opposite bank; another\nrow of sharpened stakes stood under water along the middle of the\nstream. Some remains of these works long subsisted, and were to be\ndiscerned in the river[6] down almost to the present times. The Britons\nhad made the best of the situation; but the Romans plunged into the\nwater, tore away the stakes and palisadoes, and obtained a complete\nvictory. The capital, or rather chief fastness, of Cassibelan was then\ntaken, with a number of cattle, the wealth of this barbarous city. After\nthese misfortunes the Britons were no longer in a condition to act with\neffect. Their ill-success in the field soon dissolved the ill-cemented\nunion of their councils. They split into factions, and some of them\nchose the common enemy for their protector, insomuch that, after some\nfeeble and desultory efforts, most of the tribes to the southward of the\nThames submitted themselves to the conqueror. Cassibelan, worsted in so\nmany encounters, and deserted by his allies, was driven at length to sue\nfor peace. A tribute was imposed; and as the summer began to wear away,\nC\u00e6sar, having finished the war to his satisfaction, embarked for Gaul.\n\nThe whole of C\u00e6sar's conduct in these two campaigns sufficiently\ndemonstrates that he had no intention of making an absolute conquest of\nany part of Britain. Is it to be believed, that, if he had formed such\na design, he would have left Britain without an army, without a legion,\nwithout a single cohort, to secure his conquest, and that he should sit\ndown contented with an empty glory and the tribute of an indigent\npeople, without any proper means of securing a continuance of that small\nacquisition? This is not credible. But his conduct here, as well as in\nGermany, discovers his purpose in both expeditions: for by them he\nconfirmed the Roman dominion in Gaul, he gained time to mature his\ndesigns, and he afforded his party in Rome an opportunity of promoting\nhis interest and exaggerating his exploits, which they did in such a\nmanner as to draw from the Senate a decree for a very remarkable\nacknowledgment of his services in a supplication or thanksgiving of\ntwenty days. This attempt, not being pursued, stands single, and has\nlittle or no connection with the subsequent events.\n\nTherefore I shall in this place, where the narrative will be the least\nbroken, insert from the best authorities which are left, and the best\nconjectures which in so obscure a matter I am able to form, some account\nof the first peopling of this island, the manners of its inhabitants,\ntheir art of war, their religious and civil discipline. These are\nmatters not only worthy of attention as containing a very remarkable\npiece of antiquity, but as not wholly unnecessary towards comprehending\nthe great change made in all these points, when the Roman conquest came\nafterwards to be completed.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[5] Some think this port to be Witsand, others Boulogne.\n\n[6] Coway Stakes, near Kingston-on-Thames.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nSOME ACCOUNT OF THE ANCIENT INHABITANTS OF BRITAIN.\n\n\nThat Britain was first peopled from Gaul we are assured by the best\nproofs,--proximity of situation, and resemblance in language and\nmanners. Of the time in which this event happened we must be contented\nto remain in ignorance, for we have no monuments. But we may conclude\nthat it was a very ancient settlement, since the Carthaginians found\nthis island inhabited when they traded hither for tin,--as the\nPhoenicians, whose tracks they followed in this commerce, are said to\nhave done long before them. It is true, that, when we consider the short\ninterval between the universal deluge and that period, and compare it\nwith the first settlement of men at such a distance from this corner of\nthe world, it may seem not easy to reconcile such a claim to antiquity\nwith the only authentic account we have of the origin and progress of\nmankind,--especially as in those early ages the whole face of Nature was\nextremely rude and uncultivated, when the links of commerce, even in the\ncountries first settled, were few and weak, navigation imperfect,\ngeography unknown, and the hardships of travelling excessive. But the\nspirit of migration, of which we have now only some faint ideas, was\nthen strong and universal, and it fully compensated all these\ndisadvantages. Many writers, indeed, imagine that these migrations, so\ncommon in the primitive times, were caused by the prodigious increase of\npeople beyond what their several territories could maintain. But this\nopinion, far from being supported, is rather contradicted by the\ngeneral appearance of things in that early time, when in every country\nvast tracts of land were suffered to lie almost useless in morasses and\nforests. Nor is it, indeed, more countenanced by the ancient modes of\nlife, no way favorable to population. I apprehend that these first\nsettled countries, so far from being overstocked with inhabitants, were\nrather thinly peopled, and that the same causes which occasioned that\nthinness occasioned also those frequent migrations which make so large a\npart of the first history of almost all nations. For in these ages men\nsubsisted chiefly by pasturage or hunting. These are occupations which\nspread the people without multiplying them in proportion; they teach\nthem an extensive knowledge of the country; they carry them frequently\nand far from their homes, and weaken those ties which might attach them\nto any particular habitation.\n\nIt was in a great degree from this manner of life that mankind became\nscattered in the earliest times over the whole globe. But their peaceful\noccupations did not contribute so much to that end as their wars, which\nwere not the less frequent and violent because the people were few, and\nthe interests for which they contended of but small importance. Ancient\nhistory has furnished us with many instances of whole nations, expelled\nby invasion, falling in upon others, which they have entirely\noverwhelmed,--more irresistible in their defeat and ruin than in their\nfullest prosperity. The rights of war were then exercised with great\ninhumanity. A cruel death, or a servitude scarcely less cruel, was the\ncertain fate of all conquered people; the terror of which hurried men\nfrom habitations to which they were but little attached, to seek\nsecurity and repose under any climate that, however in other respects\nundesirable, might afford them refuge from the fury of their enemies.\nThus the bleak and barren regions of the North, not being peopled by\nchoice, were peopled as early, in all probability, as many of the milder\nand more inviting climates of the Southern world; and thus, by a\nwonderful disposition of the Divine Providence, a life of hunting, which\ndoes not contribute to increase, and war, which is the great instrument\nin the destruction of men, were the two principal causes of their being\nspread so early and so universally over the whole earth. From what is\nvery commonly known of the state of North America, it need not be said\nhow often and to what distance several of the nations on that continent\nare used to migrate, who, though thinly scattered, occupy an immense\nextent of country. Nor are the causes of it less obvious,--their hunting\nlife, and their inhuman wars.\n\nSuch migrations, sometimes by choice, more frequently from necessity,\nwere common in the ancient world. Frequent necessities introduced a\nfashion which subsisted after the original causes. For how could it\nhappen, but from some universally established public prejudice, which\nalways overrules and stifles the private sense of men, that a whole\nnation should deliberately think it a wise measure to quit their country\nin a body, that they might obtain in a foreign land a settlement which\nmust wholly depend upon the chance of war? Yet this resolution was taken\nand actually pursued by the entire nation of the Helvetii, as it is\nminutely related by C\u00e6sar. The method of reasoning which led them to it\nmust appear to us at this day utterly inconceivable. They were far from\nbeing compelled to this extraordinary migration by any want of\nsubsistence at home; for it appears that they raised, without\ndifficulty, as much corn in one year as supported them for two; they\ncould not complain of the barrenness of such a soil.\n\nThis spirit of migration, which grew out of the ancient manners and\nnecessities, and sometimes operated like a blind instinct, such as\nactuates birds of passage, is very sufficient to account for the early\nhabitation of the remotest parts of the earth, and in some sort also\njustifies that claim which has been so fondly made by almost all nations\nto great antiquity.\n\nGaul, from whence Britain was originally peopled, consisted of three\nnations: the Belg\u00e6, towards the north; the Celt\u00e6, in the middle\ncountries; and the Aquitani, to the south. Britain appears to have\nreceived its people only from the two former. From the Celt\u00e6 were\nderived the most ancient tribes of the Britons, of which the most\nconsiderable were called Brigantes. The Belg\u00e6, who did not even settle\nin Gaul until after Britain had been peopled by colonies from the\nformer, forcibly drove the Brigantes into the inland countries, and\npossessed the greatest part of the coast, especially to the south and\nwest. These latter, as they entered the island in a more improved age,\nbrought with them the knowledge and practice of agriculture, which,\nhowever, only prevailed in their own countries. The Brigantes still\ncontinued their ancient way of life by pasturage and hunting. In this\nrespect alone they differed: so that what we shall say, in treating of\ntheir manners, is equally applicable to both. And though the Britons\nwere further divided into an innumerable multitude of lesser tribes and\nnations, yet all being the branches of these two stocks, it is not to\nour purpose to consider them more minutely.\n\nBritain was in the time of Julius C\u00e6sar what it is at this day, in\nclimate and natural advantages, temperate and reasonably fertile. But\ndestitute of all those improvements which in a succession of ages it has\nreceived from ingenuity, from commerce, from riches and luxury, it then\nwore a very rough and savage appearance. The country, forest or marsh;\nthe habitations, cottages; the cities, hiding-places in woods; the\npeople naked, or only covered with skins; their sole employment,\npasturage and hunting. They painted their bodies for ornament or terror,\nby a custom general amongst all savage nations, who, being passionately\nfond of show and finery, and having no object but their naked bodies on\nwhich to exercise this disposition, have in all times painted or cut\ntheir skins, according to their ideas of ornament. They shaved the beard\non the chin; that on the upper lip was suffered to remain, and grow to\nan extraordinary length, to favor the martial appearance, in which they\nplaced their glory. They were in their natural temper not unlike the\nGauls, impatient, fiery, inconstant, ostentatious, boastful, fond of\nnovelty,--and like all barbarians, fierce, treacherous, and cruel. Their\narms were short javelins, small shields of a slight texture, and great\ncutting swords with a blunt point, after the Gaulish fashion.\n\nTheir chiefs went to battle in chariots, not unartfully contrived nor\nunskilfully managed. I cannot help thinking it something extraordinary,\nand not easily to be accounted for, that the Britons should have been so\nexpert in the fabric of those chariots, when they seem utterly ignorant\nin all other mechanic arts: but thus it is delivered to us. They had\nalso horse, though of no great reputation, in their armies. Their foot\nwas without heavy armor; it was no firm body, nor instructed to preserve\ntheir ranks, to make their evolutions, or to obey their commanders; but\nin tolerating hardships, in dexterity of forming ambuscades, (the art\nmilitary of savages,) they are said to have excelled. A natural ferocity\nand an impetuous onset stood them in the place of discipline.\n\nIt is very difficult, at this distance of time, and with so little\ninformation, to discern clearly what sort of civil government prevailed\namong the ancient Britons. In all very uncultivated countries, as\nsociety is not close nor intricate, nor property very valuable, liberty\nsubsists with few restraints. The natural equality of mankind appears\nand is asserted, and therefore there are but obscure lines of any form\nof government. In every society of this sort the natural connections are\nthe same as in others, though the political ties are weak. Among such\nbarbarians, therefore, though there is little authority in the\nmagistrate, there is often great power lodged, or rather left, in the\nfather: for, as among the Gauls, so among the Britons, he had the power\nof life and death in his own family, over his children and his servants.\n\nBut among freemen and heads of families, causes of all sorts seem to\nhave been decided by the Druids: they summoned and dissolved all the\npublic assemblies; they alone had the power of capital punishments, and\nindeed seem to have had the sole execution and interpretation of\nwhatever laws subsisted among this people. In this respect the Celtic\nnations did not greatly differ from others, except that we view them in\nan earlier stage of society. Justice was in all countries originally\nadministered by the priesthood: nor, indeed, could laws in their first\nfeeble state have either authority or sanction, so as to compel men to\nrelinquish their natural independence, had they not appeared to come\ndown to them enforced by beings of more than human power. The first\nopenings of civility have been everywhere made by religion. Amongst the\nRomans, the custody and interpretation of the laws continued solely in\nthe college of the pontiffs for above a century.[7]\n\nThe time in which the Druid priesthood was instituted is unknown. It\nprobably rose, like other institutions of that kind, from low and\nobscure beginnings, and acquired from time, and the labors of able men,\na form by which it extended itself so far, and attained at length so\nmighty an influence over the minds of a fierce and otherwise\nungovernable people. Of the place where it arose there is somewhat less\ndoubt: C\u00e6sar mentions it as the common opinion that this institution\nbegan in Britain, that there it always remained in the highest\nperfection, and that from thence it diffused itself into Gaul. I own I\nfind it not easy to assign any tolerable cause why an order of so much\nauthority and a discipline so exact should have passed from the more\nbarbarous people to the more civilized, from the younger to the older,\nfrom the colony to the mother country: but it is not wonderful that the\nearly extinction of this order, and that general contempt in which the\nRomans held all the barbarous nations, should have left these matters\nobscure and full of difficulty.\n\nThe Druids were kept entirely distinct from the body of the people; and\nthey were exempted from all the inferior and burdensome offices of\nsociety, that they might be at leisure to attend the important duties of\ntheir own charge. They were chosen out of the best families, and from\nthe young men of the most promising talents: a regulation which placed\nand preserved them in a respectable light with the world. None were\nadmitted into this order but after a long and laborious novitiate, which\nmade the character venerable in their own eyes by the time and\ndifficulty of attaining it. They were much devoted to solitude, and\nthereby acquired that abstracted and thoughtful air which is so imposing\nupon the vulgar; and when they appeared in public, it was seldom, and\nonly on some great occasion,--in the sacrifices of the gods, or on the\nseat of judgment. They prescribed medicine; they formed the youth; they\npaid the last honors to the dead; they foretold events; they exercised\nthemselves in magic. They were at once the priests, lawgivers, and\nphysicians of their nation, and consequently concentred in themselves\nall that respect that men have diffusively for those who heal their\ndiseases, protect their property, or reconcile them to the Divinity.\nWhat contributed not a little to the stability and power of this order\nwas the extent of its foundation, and the regularity and proportion of\nits structure. It took in both sexes; and the female Druids were in no\nless esteem for their knowledge and sanctity than the males. It was\ndivided into several subordinate ranks and classes; and they all\ndepended upon a chief or Arch-Druid, who was elected to his place with\ngreat authority and preeminence for life. They were further armed with a\npower of interdicting from their sacrifices, or excommunicating, any\nobnoxious persons. This interdiction, so similar to that used by the\nancient Athenians, and to that since practised among Christians, was\nfollowed by an exclusion from all the benefits of civil community; and\nit was accordingly the most dreaded of all punishments. This ample\nauthority was in general usefully exerted; by the interposition of the\nDruids differences were composed, and wars ended; and the minds of the\nfierce Northern people, being reconciled to each other under the\ninfluence of religion, united with signal effect against their common\nenemies.\n\nThere was a class of the Druids whom they called Bards, who delivered in\nsongs (their only history) the exploits of their heroes, and who\ncomposed those verses which contained the secrets of Druidical\ndiscipline, their principles of natural and moral philosophy, their\nastronomy, and the mystical rites of their religion. These verses in all\nprobability bore a near resemblance to the Golden Verses of\nPythagoras,--to those of Phocylides, Orpheus, and other remnants of the\nmost ancient Greek poets. The Druids, even in Gaul, where they were not\naltogether ignorant of the use of letters, in order to preserve their\nknowledge in greater respect, committed none of their precepts to\nwriting. The proficiency of their pupils was estimated principally by\nthe number of technical verses which they retained in their memory: a\ncircumstance that shows this discipline rather calculated to preserve\nwith accuracy a few plain maxims of traditionary science than to improve\nand extend it. And this is not the sole circumstance which leads us to\nbelieve that among them learning had advanced no further than its\ninfancy.\n\nThe scholars of the Druids, like those of Pythagoras, were carefully\nenjoined a long and religious silence: for, if barbarians come to\nacquire any knowledge, it is rather by instruction than, examination;\nthey must therefore be silent. Pythagoras, in the rude times of Greece,\nrequired silence in his disciples; but Socrates, in the meridian of the\nAthenian refinement, spoke less than his scholars: everything was\ndisputed in the Academy.\n\nThe Druids are said to be very expert in astronomy, in geography, and in\nall parts of mathematical knowledge; and authors speak in a very\nexaggerated strain of their excellence in these, and in many other\nsciences. Some elemental knowledge I suppose they had; but I can\nscarcely be persuaded that their learning was either deep or extensive.\nIn all countries where Druidism was professed, the youth, were generally\ninstructed by that order; and yet was there little either in the manners\nof the people, in their way of life, or their works of art, that\ndemonstrates profound science or particularly mathematical skill.\nBritain, where their discipline was in its highest perfection, and which\nwas therefore resorted to by the people of Gaul as an oracle in\nDruidical questions, was more barbarous in all other respects than Gaul\nitself, or than any other country then known in Europe. Those piles of\nrude magnificence, Stonehenge and Abury, are in vain produced in proof\nof their mathematical abilities. These vast structures have nothing\nwhich can be admired, but the greatness of the work; and they are not\nthe only instances of the great things which the mere labor of many\nhands united, and persevering in their purpose, may accomplish with very\nlittle help from mechanics. This may be evinced by the immense\nbuildings and the low state of the sciences among the original\nPeruvians.\n\nThe Druids were eminent above all the philosophic lawgivers of antiquity\nfor their care in impressing the doctrine of the soul's immortality on\nthe minds of their people, as an operative and leading principle. This\ndoctrine was inculcated on the scheme of Transmigration, which some\nimagine them to have derived from Pythagoras. But it is by no means\nnecessary to resort to any particular teacher for an opinion which owes\nits birth to the weak struggles of unenlightened reason, and to mistakes\nnatural to the human mind. The idea of the soul's immortality is indeed\nancient, universal, and in a manner inherent in our nature; but it is\nnot easy for a rude people to conceive any other mode of existence than\none similar to what they had experienced in life, nor any other world as\nthe scene of such an existence but this we inhabit, beyond the bounds of\nwhich the mind extends itself with great difficulty. Admiration, indeed,\nwas able to exalt to heaven a few selected heroes: it did not seem\nabsurd that those who in their mortal state had distinguished themselves\nas superior and overruling spirits should after death ascend to that\nsphere which influences and governs everything below, or that the proper\nabode of beings at once so illustrious and permanent should be in that\npart of Nature in which they had always observed the greatest splendor\nand the least mutation. But on ordinary occasions it was natural some\nshould imagine that the dead retired into a remote country, separated\nfrom the living by seas or mountains. It was natural that some should\nfollow their imagination with a simplicity still purer, and pursue the\nsouls of men no further than the sepulchres in which their bodies had\nbeen deposited;[8] whilst others of deeper penetration, observing that\nbodies worn out by age or destroyed by accident still afforded the\nmaterials for generating new ones, concluded likewise that a soul being\ndislodged did not wholly perish, but was destined, by a similar\nrevolution in Nature, to act again, and to animate some other body. This\nlast principle gave rise to the doctrine of Transmigration: but we must\nnot presume of course, that, where it prevailed, it necessarily excluded\nthe other opinions; for it is not remote from the usual procedure of the\nhuman mind, blending in obscure matters imagination and reasoning\ntogether, to unite ideas the most inconsistent. When Homer represents\nthe ghosts of his heroes appearing at the sacrifices of Ulysses, he\nsupposes them endued with life, sensation, and a capacity of moving; but\nhe has joined to these powers of living existence uncomeliness, want of\nstrength, want of distinction, the characteristics of a dead carcass.\nThis is what the mind is apt to do: it is very apt to confound the ideas\nof the surviving soul and the dead body. The vulgar have always and\nstill do confound these very irreconcilable ideas. They lay the scene of\napparitions in churchyards; they habit the ghost in a shroud; and it\nappears in all the ghastly paleness of a corpse. A contradiction of this\nkind has given rise to a doubt whether the Druids did in reality hold\nthe doctrine of Transmigration. There is positive testimony that they\ndid hold it; there is also testimony as positive that they buried or\nburned with the dead utensils, arms, slaves, and whatever might be\njudged useful to them, as if they were to be removed into a separate\nstate. They might have held both these opinions; and we ought not to be\nsurprised to find error inconsistent.\n\nThe objects of the Druid worship were many. In this respect they did not\ndiffer from other heathens: but it must be owned that in general their\nideas of divine matters were more exalted than those of the Greeks and\nRomans, and that they did not fall into an idolatry so coarse and\nvulgar. That their gods should be represented under a human form they\nthought derogatory to beings uncreated and imperishable. To confine what\ncan endure no limits within walls and roofs they judged absurd and\nimpious. In these particulars there was something refined and suitable\nenough to a just idea of the Divinity. But the rest was not equal. Some\nnotions they had, like the greatest part of mankind, of a Being eternal\nand infinite; but they also, like the greatest part of mankind, paid\ntheir worship to inferior objects, from the nature of ignorance and\nsuperstition always tending downwards.\n\nThe first and chief objects of their worship were the elements,--and of\nthe elements, fire, as the most pure, active, penetrating, and what\ngives life and energy to all the rest. Among fires, the preference was\ngiven to the sun, as the most glorious visible being, and the fountain\nof all life. Next they venerated the moon and the planets. After fire,\nwater was held in reverence. This, when pure, and ritually prepared, was\nsupposed to wash away all sins, and to qualify the priest to approach\nthe altar of the gods with more acceptable prayers: washing with water\nbeing a type natural enough of inward cleansing and purity of mind.\nThey also worshipped fountains and lakes and rivers.\n\nOaks were regarded by this sect with a particular veneration, as, by\ntheir greatness, their shade, their stability, and duration, not ill\nrepresenting the perfections of the Deity. From the great reverence in\nwhich they held this tree, it is thought their name of Druids is\nderived: the word Deru, in the Celtic language, signifying an oak. But\ntheir reverence was not wholly confined to this tree. All forests were\nheld sacred; and many particular plants were respected, as endued with a\nparticular holiness. No plant was more revered than the mistletoe,\nespecially if it grew on the oak,--not only because it is rarely found\nupon that tree, but because the oak was among the Druids peculiarly\nsacred. Towards the end of the year they searched for this plant, and\nwhen it was found great rejoicing ensued; it was approached with,\nreverence; it was cut with a golden hook; it was not suffered to fall to\nthe ground, but received with great care and solemnity upon a white\ngarment.\n\nIn ancient times, and in all countries, the profession of physic was\nannexed to the priesthood. Men imagined that all their diseases were\ninflicted by the immediate displeasure of the Deity, and therefore\nconcluded that the remedy would most probably proceed from those who\nwere particularly employed in his service. Whatever, for the same\nreason, was found of efficacy to avert or cure distempers was considered\nas partaking somewhat of the Divinity. Medicine was always joined with\nmagic: no remedy was administered without mysterious ceremony and\nincantation. The use of plants and herbs, both in medicinal and magical\npractices, was early and general. The mistletoe, pointed out by its very\npeculiar appearance and manner of growth, must have struck powerfully on\nthe imaginations of a superstitious people. Its virtues may have been\nsoon discovered. It has been fully proved, against the opinion of\nCelsus, that internal remedies were of very early use.[9] Yet if it had\nnot, the practice of the present savage nations supports the probability\nof that opinion. By some modern authors the mistletoe is said to be of\nsignal service in the cure of certain convulsive distempers, which, by\ntheir suddenness, their violence, and their unaccountable symptoms, have\nbeen ever considered as supernatural. The epilepsy was by the Romans for\nthat reason called _morbus sacer_; and all other nations have regarded\nit in the same light. The Druids also looked upon vervain, and some\nother plants, as holy, and probably for a similar reason.\n\nThe other objects of the Druid worship were chiefly serpents, in the\nanimal world, and rude heaps of stone, or great pillars without polish\nor sculpture, in the inanimate. The serpent, by his dangerous qualities,\nis not ill adapted to inspire terror,--by his annual renewals, to raise\nadmiration,--by his make, easily susceptible of many figures, to serve\nfor a variety of symbols,--and by all, to be an object of religious\nobservance: accordingly, no object of idolatry has been more\nuniversal.[10] And this is so natural, that serpent-veneration seems to\nbe rising again, even in the bosom of Mahometanism.[11]\n\nThe great stones, it has been supposed, were originally monuments of\nillustrious men, or the memorials of considerable actions,--or they were\nlandmarks for deciding the bounds of fixed property. In time the memory\nof the persons or facts which these stones were erected to perpetuate\nwore away; but the reverence which custom, and probably certain\nperiodical ceremonies, had preserved for those places was not so soon\nobliterated. The monuments themselves then came to be venerated,--and\nnot the less because the reason for venerating them was no longer known.\nThe landmark was in those times held sacred on account of its great\nuses, and easily passed into an object of worship. Hence the god\nTerminus amongst the Romans. This religious observance towards rude\nstones is one of the most ancient and universal of all customs. Traces\nof it are to be found in almost all, and especially in these Northern\nnations; and to this day, in Lapland, where heathenism is not yet\nentirely extirpated, their chief divinity, which they call\n_Storjunkare,_ is nothing more than a rude stone.[12]\n\nSome writers among the moderns, because the Druids ordinarily made no\nuse of images in their worship, have given into an opinion that their\nreligion was founded on the unity of the Godhead. But this is no just\nconsequence. The spirituality of the idea, admitting their idea to have\nbeen spiritual, does not infer the unity of the object. All the ancient\nauthors who speak of this order agree, that, besides those great and\nmore distinguishing objects of their worship already mentioned they had\ngods answerable to those adored by the Romans. And we know that the\nNorthern nations, who overran the Roman Empire, had in fact a great\nplurality of gods, whose attributes, though not their names, bore a\nclose analogy to the idols of the Southern world.\n\nThe Druids performed the highest act of religion by sacrifice, agreeably\nto the custom of all other nations. They not only offered up beasts, but\neven human victims: a barbarity almost universal in the heathen world,\nbut exercised more uniformly, and with circumstances of peculiar\ncruelty, amongst those nations where the religion of the Druids\nprevailed. They held that the life of a man was the only atonement for\nthe life of a man. They frequently inclosed a number of wretches, some\ncaptives, some criminals, and, when these were wanting, even innocent\nvictims, in a gigantic statue of wicker-work, to which they set fire,\nand invoked their deities amidst the horrid cries and shrieks of the\nsufferers, and the shouts of those who assisted at this tremendous rite.\n\nThere were none among the ancients more eminent for all the arts of\ndivination than the Druids. Many of the superstitious practices in use\nto this day among the country people for discovering their future\nfortune seem to be remains of Druidism. Futurity is the great concern of\nmankind. Whilst the wise and learned look back upon experience and\nhistory, and reason from things past about events to come, it is natural\nfor the rude and ignorant, who have the same desires without the same\nreasonable means of satisfaction, to inquire into the secrets of\nfuturity, and to govern their conduct by omens, dreams, and prodigies.\nThe Druids, as well as the Etruscan and Roman priesthood, attended with\ndiligence the flight of birds, the pecking of chickens, and the entrails\nof their animal sacrifices. It was obvious that no contemptible\nprognostics of the weather were to be taken from certain motions and\nappearances in birds and beasts.[13] A people who lived mostly in the\nopen air must have been well skilled in these observations. And as\nchanges in the weather influenced much the fortune of their huntings or\ntheir harvests, which were all their fortunes, it was easy to apply the\nsame prognostics to every event by a transition very natural and common;\nand thus probably arose the science of auspices, which formerly guided\nthe deliberations of councils and the motions of armies, though now they\nonly serve, and scarcely serve, to amuse the vulgar.\n\nThe Druid temple is represented to have been nothing more than a\nconsecrated wood. The ancients speak of no other. But monuments remain\nwhich show that the Druids were not in this respect wholly confined to\ngroves. They had also a species of building which in all probability was\ndestined to religious use. This sort of structure was, indeed, without\nwalls or roof. It was a colonnade, generally circular, of huge, rude\nstones, sometimes single, sometimes double, sometimes with, often\nwithout, an architrave. These open temples were not in all respects\npeculiar to the Northern nations. Those of the Greeks, which were\ndedicated to the celestial gods, ought in strictness to have had no\nroof, and were thence called _hyp\u00e6thra_.[14]\n\nMany of these monuments remain in the British islands, curious for\ntheir antiquity, or astonishing for the greatness of the work: enormous\nmasses of rock, so poised as to be set in motion with the slightest\ntouch, yet not to be pushed from their place by a very great power; vast\naltars, peculiar and mystical in their structure, thrones, basins, heaps\nor cairns; and a variety of other works, displaying a wild industry, and\na strange mixture of ingenuity and rudeness. But they are all worthy of\nattention,--not only as such monuments often clear up the darkness and\nsupply the defects of history, but as they lay open a noble field of\nspeculation for those who study the changes which have happened in the\nmanners, opinions, and sciences of men, and who think them as worthy of\nregard as the fortune of wars and the revolutions of kingdoms.\n\nThe short account which I have here given does not contain the whole of\nwhat is handed down to us by ancient writers, or discovered by modern\nresearch, concerning this remarkable order. But I have selected those\nwhich appear to me the most striking features, and such as throw the\nstrongest light on the genius and true character of the Druidical\ninstitution. In some respects it was undoubtedly very singular; it stood\nout more from the body of the people than the priesthood of other\nnations; and their knowledge and policy appeared the more striking by\nbeing contrasted with the great simplicity and rudeness of the people\nover whom they presided. But, notwithstanding some peculiar appearances\nand practices, it is impossible not to perceive a great conformity\nbetween this and the ancient orders which have been established for the\npurposes of religion in almost all countries. For, to say nothing of the\nresemblance which many have traced between this and the Jewish\npriesthood, the Persian Magi, and the Indian Brahmans, it did not so\ngreatly differ from the Roman priesthood, either in the original objects\nor in the general mode of worship, or in the constitution of their\nhierarchy. In the original institution neither of these nations had the\nuse of images; the rules of the Salian as well as Druid discipline were\ndelivered in verse; both orders were under an elective head; and both\nwere for a long time the lawyers of their country. So that, when the\norder of Druids was suppressed by the Emperors, it was rather from a\ndread of an influence incompatible with the Roman government than from\nany dislike of their religious opinions.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] _Digest. Lib. I. Tit. ii. De Origine et Progressu Juris, \u00a7 6._\n\n[8] Cic. Tusc. Quest. Lib. I\n\n[9] See this point in the Divine Legation of Moses.\n\n[10] [Greek: Para panti nomizomin\u00f4n par' humin theon ophis sumbolon mega\nkai mysterion anagraphetai.]--Justin Martyr, in Stillingfleet's Origines Sacr\u00e6.\n\n[11] Norden's Travels.\n\n[12] Scheffer's Lapland, p. 92, the translation.\n\n[13] Cic. de Divinatione, Lib. I.\n\n[14] Decor.... perficitur statione,.... cum Jovi Fulguri, et Coelo, et\nSoli, et Lun\u00e6 \u00e6dificia sub divo hyp\u00e6thraque constituentur. Horum enim\ndeorum et species et effectus in aperto mundo atque lucenti pr\u00e6sentes\nvidemus.--Vitruv. de Architect. p. 6. de Laet. Antwerp.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE REDUCTION OF BRITAIN BY THE ROMANS.\n\n\nThe death of C\u00e6sar, and the civil wars which ensued, afforded foreign\nnations some respite from the Roman ambition. Augustus, having restored\npeace to mankind, seems to have made it a settled maxim of his reign not\nto extend the Empire. He found himself at the head of a new monarchy;\nand he was more solicitous to confirm it by the institutions of sound\npolicy than to extend the bounds of its dominion. In consequence of this\nplan Britain was neglected.\n\nTiberius came a regular successor to an established government. But his\npolitics were dictated rather by his character than his situation. He\nwas a lawful prince, and he acted on the maxims of an usurper. Having\nmade it a rule never to remove far from the capital, and jealous of\nevery reputation which seemed too great for the measure of a subject, he\nneither undertook any enterprise of moment in his own person nor cared\nto commit the conduct of it to another. There was little in a British\ntriumph that could affect a temper like that of Tiberius.\n\nHis successor, Caligula, was not influenced by this, nor indeed by any\nregular system; for, having undertaken an expedition to Britain without\nany determinate view, he abandoned it on the point of execution without\nreason. And adding ridicule to his disgrace, his soldiers returned to\nRome loaded with shells. These spoils he displayed as the ornaments of a\ntriumph which he celebrated over the Ocean,--if in all these particulars\nwe may trust to the historians of that time, who relate things almost\nincredible of the folly of their masters and the patience of the Roman\npeople.\n\nBut the Roman people, however degenerate, still retained much of their\nmartial spirit; and as the Emperors held their power almost entirely by\nthe affection of the soldiery, they found themselves often obliged to\nsuch enterprises as might prove them no improper heads of a military\nconstitution. An expedition to Britain was well adapted to answer all\nthe purposes of this ostentatious policy. The country was remote and\nlittle known, so that every exploit there, as if achieved in another\nworld, appeared at Rome with double pomp and lustre; whilst the sea,\nwhich divided Britain from the continent, prevented a failure in that\nisland from being followed by any consequences alarming to the body of\nthe Empire. A pretext was not wanting to this war. The maritime Britons,\nwhile the terror of the Roman arms remained fresh, upon their minds,\ncontinued regularly to pay the tribute imposed by C\u00e6sar. But the\ngeneration which experienced that war having passed away, that which\nsucceeded felt the burden, but knew from rumor only the superiority\nwhich had imposed it; and being very ignorant, as of all things else, so\nof the true extent of the Roman power, they were not afraid to provoke\nit by discontinuing the payment of the tribute.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 43]\n\nThis gave occasion to the Emperor Claudius, ninety-seven years after the\nfirst expedition of C\u00e6sar, to invade Britain in person, and with a great\narmy. But he, having rather surveyed than conducted the war, left in a\nshort time the management of it to his legate, Plautius, who subdued\nwithout much difficulty those countries which lay to the southward of\nthe Thames, the best cultivated and most accessible parts of the island.\nBut the inhabitants of the rough inland countries, the people called\nCattivellauni, made a more strenuous opposition. They were under the\ncommand of Caractacus, a chief of great and just renown amongst all the\nBritish nations. This leader wisely adjusted his conduct of the war to\nthe circumstances of his savage subjects and his rude country. Plautius\nobtained no decisive advantages over him. He opposed Ostorius Scapula,\nwho succeeded that general, with the same bravery, but with unequal\nsuccess; for he was, after various turns of fortune, obliged to abandon\nhis dominions, which Ostorius at length subdued and disarmed.\n\nThis bulwark of the British freedom being overturned, Ostorius was not\nafraid to enlarge his plan. Not content with disarming the enemies of\nRome, he proceeded to the same extremities with those nations who had\nbeen always quiet, and who, under the name of an alliance, lay ripening\nfor subjection. This fierce people, who looked upon their arms as their\nonly valuable possessions, refused to submit to terms as severe as the\nmost absolute conquest could impose. They unanimously entered into a\nleague against the Romans. But their confederacy was either not\nsufficiently strong or fortunate to resist so able a commander, and only\nafforded him an opportunity, from a more comprehensive victory, to\nextend the Roman province a considerable way to the northern and western\nparts of the island. The frontiers of this acquisition, which extended\nalong the rivers Severn and Nen, he secured by a chain of forts and\nstations; the inland parts he quieted by the settlement of colonies of\nhis veteran troops at Maldon and Verulam: and such was the beginning of\nthose establishments which afterwards became so numerous in Britain.\nThis commander was the first who traced in this island a plan of\nsettlement and civil policy to concur with his military operations. For,\nafter he had settled these colonies, considering with what difficulty\nany and especially an uncivilized people are broke into submission to a\nforeign government, he imposed it on some of the most powerful of the\nBritish nations in a more indirect manner. He placed them under kings of\ntheir own race; and whilst he paid this compliment to their pride, he\nsecured their obedience by the interested fidelity of a prince who knew,\nthat, as he owed the beginning, so he depended for the duration of his\nauthority wholly upon their favor. Such was the dignity and extent of\nthe Roman policy, that they could number even royalty itself amongst\ntheir instruments of servitude.\n\nOstorius did not confine himself within the boundaries of these rivers.\nHe observed that the Silures, inhabitants of South Wales, one of the\nmost martial tribes in Britain, were yet unhurt and almost untouched by\nthe war. He could expect to make no progress to the northward, whilst an\nenemy of such importance hung upon his rear,--especially as they were\nnow commanded by Caractacus, who preserved the spirit of a prince,\nthough he had lost his dominions, and fled from nation to nation,\nwherever he could find a banner erected against the Romans. His\ncharacter obtained him reception and command.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 51]\n\nThough the Silures, thus headed, did everything that became their\nmartial reputation, both in the choice and defence of their posts, the\nRomans, by their discipline and the weight and excellence of their arms,\nprevailed over the naked bravery of this gallant people, and defeated\nthem in a great battle. Caractacus was soon after betrayed into their\nhands, and conveyed to Rome. The merit of the prisoner was the sole\nornament of a triumph celebrated over an indigent people headed by a\ngallant chief. The Romans crowded eagerly to behold the man who, with\ninferior forces, and in an obscure corner of the world, had so many\nyears stood up against the weight of their empire.\n\nAs the arts of adulation improved in proportion as the real grandeur of\nRome declined, this advantage was compared to the greatest conquests in\nthe most flourishing times of the Republic: and so far as regarded the\npersonal merit of Caractacus, it could not be too highly rated. Being\nbrought before the emperor, he behaved with such manly fortitude, and\nspoke of his former actions and his present condition with so much plain\nsense and unaffected dignity, that he moved the compassion of the\nemperor, who remitted much of that severity which the Romans formerly\nexercised upon their captives. Rome was now a monarchy, and that fierce\nrepublican spirit was abated which had neither feeling nor respect for\nthe character of unfortunate sovereigns.\n\nThe Silures were not reduced by the loss of Caractacus, and the great\ndefeat they had suffered. They resisted every measure of force or\nartifice that could be employed against them, with the most generous\nobstinacy: a resolution in which they were confirmed by some imprudent\nwords of the legate, threatening to extirpate, or, what appeared to them\nscarcely less dreadful, to transplant their nation. Their natural\nbravery thus hardened into despair, and inhabiting a country very\ndifficult of access, they presented an impenetrable barrier to the\nprogress of that commander; insomuch that, wasted with continual cares,\nand with the mortification to find the end of his affairs so little\nanswerable to the splendor of their beginning, Ostorius died of grief,\nand left all things in confusion.\n\nThe legates who succeeded to his charge did little more for about sixty\nyears than secure the frontiers of the Roman province. But in the\nbeginning of Nero's reign the command in Britain was devolved on\nSuetonius Paulinus, a soldier of merit and experience, who, when he\ncame to view the theatre of his future operations, and had well\nconsidered the nature of the country, discerned evidently that the war\nmust of necessity be protracted to a great length, if he should be\nobliged to penetrate into every fastness to which the enemy retired, and\nto combat their flying parties one by one. He therefore resolved to make\nsuch a blow at the head as must of course disable all the inferior\nmembers.\n\nThe island then called Mona, now Anglesey, at that time was the\nprincipal residence of the Druids. Here their councils were held, and\ntheir commands from hence were dispersed among all the British nations.\nPaulinus proposed, in reducing this their favorite and sacred seat, to\ndestroy, or at least greatly to weaken, the body of the Druids, and\nthereby to extinguish the great actuating principle of all the Celtic\npeople, and that which was alone capable of communicating order and\nenergy to their operations.\n\nWhilst the Roman troops were passing that strait which divides this\nisland from the continent of Britain, they halted on a sudden,--not\nchecked by the resistance of the enemy, but suspended by a spectacle of\nan unusual and altogether surprising nature. On every side of the\nBritish army were seen bands of Druids in their most sacred habits\nsurrounding the troops, lifting their hands to heaven, devoting to death\ntheir enemies, and animating their disciples to religious frenzy by the\nuncouth ceremonies of a savage ritual, and the horrid mysteries of a\nsuperstition familiar with blood. The female Druids also moved about in\na troubled order, their hair dishevelled, their garments torn, torches\nin their hands, and, with an horror increased by the perverted softness\nof their sex, howled out the same curses and incantations with greater\nclamor.[15] Astonished at this sight, the Romans for some time neither\nadvanced nor returned the darts of the enemy. But at length, rousing\nfrom their trance, and animating each other with the shame of yielding\nto the impotence of female and fanatical fury, they found the resistance\nby no means proportioned to the horror and solemnity of the\npreparations. These overstrained efforts had, as frequently happens,\nexhausted the spirits of the men, and stifled that ardor they were\nintended to kindle. The Britons were defeated; and Paulinus, pretending\nto detest the barbarity of their superstition, in reality from the\ncruelty of his own nature, and that he might cut off the occasion of\nfuture disturbances, exercised the most unjustifiable severities on this\nunfortunate people. He burned the Druids in their own fires; and that no\nretreat might be afforded to that order, their consecrated woods were\neverywhere destroyed. Whilst he was occupied in this service, a general\nrebellion broke out, which his severity to the Druids served rather to\ninflame than allay.\n\nFrom the manners of the republic a custom had been ingrafted into the\nmonarchy of Rome altogether unsuitable to that mode of government. In\nthe time of the Commonwealth, those who lived in a dependent and\ncliental relation on the great men used frequently to show marks of\ntheir acknowledgment by considerable bequests at their death. But when\nall the scattered powers of that state became united in the emperor,\nthese legacies followed the general current, and flowed in upon the\ncommon patron. In the will of every considerable person he inherited\nwith the children and relations, and such devises formed no\ninconsiderable part of his revenue: a monstrous practice, which let an\nabsolute sovereign into all the private concerns of his subjects, and\nwhich, by giving the prince a prospect of one day sharing in all the\ngreat estates, whenever he was urged by avarice or necessity, naturally\npointed out a resource by an anticipation always in his power. This\npractice extended into the provinces. A king of the Iceni[16] had\ndevised a considerable part of his substance to the emperor. But the\nRoman procurator, not satisfied with entering into his master's portion,\nseized upon the rest,--and pursuing his injustice to the most horrible\noutrages, publicly scourged Boadicea, queen to the deceased prince, and\nviolated his daughters. These cruelties, aggravated by the shame and\nscorn that attended them,--the general severity of the government,--the\ntaxes, (new to a barbarous people,) laid on without discretion, extorted\nwithout mercy, and, even when respited, made utterly ruinous by\nexorbitant usury,--the farther mischiefs they had to dread, when more\ncompletely reduced,--all these, with, the absence of the legate and the\narmy on a remote expedition, provoked all the tribes of the Britons,\nprovincials, allies, enemies, to a general insurrection. The command of\nthis confederacy was conferred on Boadicea, as the first in rank, and\nresentment of injuries. They began by cutting off a Roman legion; then\nthey fell upon the colonies of Camelodunum and Verulam, and with a\nbarbarous fury butchered the Romans and their adherents to the number of\nseventy thousand.\n\nAn end had been now put to the Roman power in this island, if Paulinus,\nwith unexampled vigor and prudence, had not conducted his army through\nthe midst of the enemy's country from Anglesey to London. There uniting\nthe soldiers that remained dispersed in different garrisons, he formed\nan army of ten thousand men, and marched to attack the enemy in the\nheight of their success and security. The army of the Britons is said to\nhave amounted to two hundred and thirty thousand; but it was ill\ncomposed, and without choice or order,--women, boys, old men,\npriests,--full of presumption, tumult, and confusion. Boadicea was at\ntheir head,--a woman of masculine spirit, but precipitant, and without\nany military knowledge.\n\nThe event was such as might have been expected. Paulinus, having chosen\na situation favorable to the smallness of his numbers, and encouraged\nhis troops not to dread a multitude whose weight was dangerous only to\nthemselves, piercing into the midst of that disorderly crowd, after a\nblind and furious resistance, obtained a complete victory. Eighty\nthousand Britons fell in this battle.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 61] Paulinus improved the terror this slaughter had\nproduced by the unparalleled severities which he exercised. This method\nwould probably have succeeded to subdue, but at the same time to\ndepopulate the nation, if such loud complaints had not been made at Rome\nof the legate's cruelty as procured his recall.\n\nThree successive legates carried on the affairs of Britain during the\nlatter part of Nero's reign, and during the troubles occasioned by the\ndisputed succession. But they were all of an inactive character. The\nvictory obtained by Paulinus had disabled the Britons from any new\nattempt. Content, therefore, with recovering the Roman province, these\ngenerals compounded, as it were, with the enemy for the rest of the\nisland. They caressed the troops; they indulged them in their\nlicentiousness; and not being of a character to repress the seditions\nthat continually arose, they submitted to preserve their ease and some\nshadow of authority by sacrificing the most material parts of it. And\nthus they continued, soldiers and commanders, by a sort of compact, in a\ncommon neglect of all duty on the frontiers of the Empire, in the face\nof a bold and incensed enemy.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 69]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 71]\n\nBut when Vespasian arrived to the head of affairs, he caused the vigor\nof his government to be felt in Britain, as he had done in all the other\nparts of the Empire. He was not afraid to receive great services. His\nlegates, Cerealis and Frontinus, reduced the Silures and Brigantes,--one\nthe most warlike, the other the most numerous people in the island. But\nits final reduction and perfect settlement were reserved for Julius\nAgricola, a man by whom, it was a happiness for the Britons to be\nconquered. He was endued with all those bold and popular virtues which\nwould have given him the first place in the times of the free Republic;\nand he joined to them all that reserve and moderation which enabled him\nto fill great offices with safety, and made him a good subject under a\njealous despotism.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 84.]\n\nThough the summer was almost spent when he arrived in Britain, knowing\nhow much the vigor and success of the first stroke influences all\nsubsequent measures, he entered immediately into action. After reducing\nsome tribes, Mona became the principal object of his attention. The\ncruel ravages of Paulinus had not entirely effaced the idea of sanctity\nwhich the Britons by a long course of hereditary reverence had annexed\nto that island: it became once more a place of consideration by the\nreturn of the Druids. Here Agricola observed a conduct very different\nfrom that of his predecessor, Paulinus: the island, when he had reduced\nit, was treated with great lenity. Agricola was a man of humanity and\nvirtue: he pitied the condition and respected the prejudices of the\nconquered. This behavior facilitated the progress of his arms, insomuch\nthat in less than two campaigns all the British nations comprehended in\nwhat we now call England yielded themselves to the Roman government, as\nsoon as they found that peace was no longer to be considered as a\ndubious blessing. Agricola carefully secured the obedience of the\nconquered people by building forts and stations in the most important\nand commanding places. Having taken these precautions for securing his\nrear, he advanced northwards, and, penetrating into Caledonia as far as\nthe river Tay, he there built a _pr\u00e6tentura_, or line of forts, between\nthe two friths, which are in that place no more than twenty miles\nasunder. The enemy, says Tacitus, was removed as it were into another\nisland. And this line Agricola seems to have destined as the boundary\nof the Empire. For though in the following year he carried his arms\nfurther, and, as it is thought, to the foot of the Grampian Mountains,\nand there defeated a confederate army of the Caledonians, headed by\nGalgacus, one of their most famous chiefs, yet he built no fort to the\nnorthward of this line: a measure which he never omitted, when he\nintended to preserve his conquests. The expedition of that summer was\nprobably designed only to disable the Caledonians from attempting\nanything against this barrier. But he left them their mountains, their\narms, and their liberty: a policy, perhaps, not altogether worthy of so\nable a commander. He might the more easily have completed the conquest\nof the whole island by means of the fleet which he equipped to co\u00f6perate\nwith his land forces in that expedition. This fleet sailed quite round\nBritain, which had not been before, by any certain proof, known to be an\nisland: a circumnavigation, in that immature state of naval skill, of\nlittle less fame than a voyage round the globe in the present age.\n\nIn the interval between his campaigns Agricola was employed in the great\nlabors of peace. He knew that the general must be perfected by the\nlegislator, and that the conquest is neither permanent nor honorable\nwhich is only an introduction to tyranny. His first care was the\nregulation of his household, which under former legates had been always\nfull of faction and intrigue, lay heavy on the province, and was as\ndifficult to govern. He never suffered his private partialities to\nintrude into the conduct of public business, nor in appointing to\nemployments did he permit solicitation to supply the place of merit,\nwisely sensible that a proper choice of officers is almost the whole of\ngovernment. He eased the tribute of the province, not so much by\nreducing it in quantity as by cutting off all those vexatious practices\nwhich attended the levying of it, far more grievous than the imposition\nitself. Every step in securing the subjection of the conquered country\nwas attended with the utmost care in providing for its peace and\ninternal order. Agricola reconciled the Britons to the Roman government\nby reconciling them to the Roman manners. He moulded that fierce nation\nby degrees to soft and social customs, leading them imperceptibly into a\nfondness for baths, for gardens, for grand houses, and all the\ncommodious elegancies of a cultivated life. He diffused a grace and\ndignity over this new luxury by the introduction of literature. He\ninvited instructors in all the arts and sciences from Rome; and he sent\nthe principal youth of Britain to that city to be educated at his own\nexpense. In short, he subdued the Britons by civilizing them, and made\nthem exchange a savage liberty for a polite and easy subjection. His\nconduct is the most perfect model for those employed in the unhappy, but\nsometimes necessary task, of subduing a rude and free people.\n\nThus was Britain, after a struggle of fifty-four years, entirely bent\nunder the yoke, and moulded into the Roman Empire. How so stubborn an\nopposition, could have been so long maintained against the greatest\npower on earth by a people ill armed, worse united, without revenues,\nwithout discipline, has justly been deemed an object of wonder. Authors\nare generally contented with attributing it to the extraordinary bravery\nof the ancient Britons. But certainly the Britons fought with armies as\nbrave as the world ever saw, with superior discipline, and more\nplentiful resources.\n\nTo account for this opposition, we must have recourse to the general\ncharacter of the Roman politics at this time. War, during this period,\nwas carried on upon principles very different from, those that actuated\nthe Republic. Then one uniform spirit animated one body through whole\nages. With whatever state they were engaged, the war was so prosecuted\nas if the republic could not subsist, unless that particular enemy were\ntotally destroyed. But when the Roman dominion had arrived to as great\nan extent as could well be managed, and that the ruling power had more\nto fear from disaffection to the government than from enmity to the\nEmpire, with regard to foreign affairs common rules and a moderate\npolicy took place. War became no more than a sort of exercise for the\nRoman forces.[17] Even whilst they were declaring war they looked\ntowards an accommodation, and were satisfied with reasonable terms when\nthey concluded it. Their politics were more like those of the present\npowers of Europe, where kingdoms seek rather to spread their influence\nthan to extend their dominion, to awe and weaken rather than to destroy.\nUnder unactive and jealous princes the Roman legates seldom dared to\npush the advantages they had gained far enough to produce a dangerous\nreputation.[18] They wisely stopped, when they came to the verge of\npopularity. And these emperors fearing as much from the generals as\ntheir generals from them, such frequent changes were made in the\ncommand that the war was never systematically carried on. Besides, the\nchange of emperors (and their reigns were not long) almost always\nbrought on a change of measures; and the councils even of the same reign\nwere continually fluctuating, as opposite court factions happened to\nprevail. Add to this, that during the commotions which followed the\ndeath of Nero the contest for the purple turned the eyes of the world\nfrom every other object. All persons of consequence interested\nthemselves in the success of some of the contending parties; and the\nlegates in Britain, suspended in expectation of the issue of such mighty\nquarrels, remained unactive till it could be determined for what master\nthey were to conquer.\n\nOn the side of the Roman government these seem to have been some of the\ncauses which so long protracted the fate of Britain. Others arose from\nthe nature of the country itself, and from the manners of its\ninhabitants. The country was then extremely woody and full of morasses.\nThere were originally no roads. The motion of armies was therefore\ndifficult, and communication in many cases impracticable. There were no\ncities, no towns, no places of cantonment for soldiers; so that the\nRoman forces were obliged to come into the field late and to leave it\nearly in the season. They had no means to awe the enemy, and to prevent\ntheir machinations during the winter. Every campaign they had nearly the\nsame work to begin. When a civilized nation suffers some great defeat,\nand loses some place critically situated, such is the mutual dependence\nof the several parts by commerce, and by the orders of a well-regulated\ncommunity, that the whole is easily secured. A long-continued state of\nwar is unnatural to such a nation. They abound with artisans, with\ntraders, and a number of settled and unwarlike people, who are less\ndisturbed in their ordinary course by submitting to almost any power\nthan in a long opposition; and as this character diffuses itself through\nthe whole nation, they find it impossible to carry on a war, when they\nare deprived of the usual resources. But in a country like ancient\nBritain there are as many soldiers as inhabitants. They unite and\ndisperse with ease. They require no pay nor formal subsistence; and the\nhardships of an irregular war are not very remote from their ordinary\ncourse of life. Victories are easily obtained over such a rude people,\nbut they are rarely decisive; and the final conquest becomes a work of\ntime and patience. All that can be done is to facilitate communication\nby roads, and to secure the principal avenues and the most remarkable\nposts on the navigable rivers by forts and stations. To conquer the\npeople, you must subdue the nature of the country. The Romans at length\neffected this; but until this was done, they never were able to make a\nperfect conquest.\n\nI shall now add something concerning the government the Romans settled\nhere, and of those methods which they used to preserve the conquered\npeople under an entire subjection. Those nations who had either\npassively permitted or had been instrumental in the conquest of their\nfellow-Britons were dignified with the title of allies, and thereby\npreserved their possessions, laws, and magistrates: they were subject to\nno kind of charge or tribute. But as their league was not equal, and\nthat they were under the protection, of a superior power, they were\nentirely divested of the right of war and peace; and in many cases an\nappeal lay to Rome in consequence of their subordinate and dependent\nsituation. This was the lightest species of subjection; and it was\ngenerally no more than a step preparatory to a stricter government.\n\nThe condition of those towns and communities called _municipia_, by\ntheir being more closely united to the greater state, seemed to partake\na degree less of independence. They were adopted citizens of Rome; but\nwhatever was detracted from their ancient liberty was compensated by a\nmore or less complete possession of the privileges which constituted a\nRoman city, according to the merits which had procured their adoption.\nThese cities were models of Rome in little; their courts and magistrates\nwere the same; and though they were at liberty to retain their old laws,\nand to make new at their pleasure, they commonly conformed to those of\nRome. The _municipia_ were not subject to tribute.\n\nWhen a whole people had resisted the Roman power with great obstinacy,\nhad displayed a readiness to revolt upon every occasion, and had\nfrequently broken their faith, they were reduced into what the Romans\ncalled the form of a province: that is, they lost their laws, their\nliberties, their magistrates; they forfeited the greatest part of their\nlands; and they paid a heavy tribute for what they were permitted to\nretain.\n\nIn these provinces the supreme government was in the pr\u00e6tor sent by the\nsenate, who commanded the army, and in his own person exercised the\njudicial power. Where the sphere of his government was large, he deputed\nhis legates to that employment, who judged according to the standing\nlaws of the republic, aided by those occasional declarations of law\ncalled the pr\u00e6torial edicts. The care of the revenue was in the qu\u00e6stor.\nHe was appointed to that office in Rome; but when he acted in a judicial\ncapacity, it was always by commission from the pr\u00e6tor of the\nprovince.[19] Between these magistrates and all others who had any share\nin the provincial government the Roman manners had established a kind of\nsacred relation, as inviolable as that of blood.[20] All the officers\nwere taught to look up to the pr\u00e6tor as their father, and to regard each\nother as brethren: a firm and useful bond of concord in a virtuous\nadministration; a dangerous and oppressive combination in a bad one.\nBut, like all the Roman institutions, it operated strongly towards its\nprincipal purpose, the security of dominion, which is by nothing so much\nexposed as the factions and competitions of the officers, when the\ngoverning party itself gives the first example of disobedience.\n\nOn the overthrow of the Commonwealth, a remarkable revolution ensued in\nthe power and the subordination of these magistrates. For, as the prince\ncame alone to possess all that was by a proper title either imperial or\npr\u00e6torial authority, the ancient pr\u00e6tors dwindled into his legates, by\nwhich the splendor and importance of that dignity were much diminished.\nThe business of the qu\u00e6stor at this time seems to have been transferred\nto the emperor's procurator. The whole of the public revenue became part\nof the fisc, and was considered as the private estate of the prince. But\nthe old office under this new appellation rose in proportion as the\npr\u00e6torship had declined. For the procurator seems to have drawn to\nhimself the cognizance of all civil, while capital cases alone were\nreserved for the judgment of the legate.[21] And though his power was at\nfirst restrained within narrow bounds, and all his judgments were\nsubject to a review and reversal by the pr\u00e6tor and the senate, he\ngradually grew into independence of both, and was at length by Claudius\ninvested with a jurisdiction absolutely uncontrollable. Two causes, I\nimagine, joined to produce this change: first, the sword was in the\nhands of the legate; the policy of the emperors, in order to balance\nthis dangerous authority, thought too much weight could not be thrown\ninto the scale of the procurator: secondly, as the government was now\nentirely despotical, a connection between the inferior officers of the\nempire and the senate[22] was found to shock the reason of that absolute\nmode of government, which extends the sovereign power in all its fulness\nto every officer in his own district, and renders him accountable to his\nmaster alone for the abuse of it.\n\nThe veteran soldiers were always thought entitled to a settlement in the\ncountry which had been subdued by their valor. The whole legion, with\nthe tribunes, the centurions, and all the subordinate officers, were\nseated on an allotted portion of the conquered lands, which were\ndistributed among them according to their rank. These colonies were\ndisposed throughout the conquered country, so as to sustain each other,\nto surround the possessions that were left to the conquered, to mix with\nthe _municipia_ or free towns, and to overawe the allies. Rome extended\nherself by her colonies into every part of her empire, and was\neverywhere present. I speak here only of the military colonies, because\nno other, I imagine, were ever settled in Britain.\n\nThere were few countries of any considerable extent in which all these\ndifferent modes of government and different shades and gradations of\nservitude did not exist together. There were allies, _municipia_,\nprovinces, and colonies in this island, as elsewhere; and those\ndissimilar parts, far from being discordant, united to make a firm and\ncompact body, the motion of any member of which could only serve to\nconfirm and establish the whole; and when time was given to this\nstructure to coalesce and settle, it was found impossible to break any\npart of it from the Empire.\n\nBy degrees the several parts blended and softened into one another. And\nas the remembrance of enmity, on the one hand, wore away by time, so, on\nthe other, the privileges of the Roman citizens at length became less\nvaluable. When, nothing throughout so vast an extent of the globe was of\nconsideration but a single man, there was no reason to make any\ndistinction amongst his subjects. Claudius first gave the full rights of\nthe city to all the Gauls. Under Antoninus Rome opened her gates still\nwider. All the subjects of the Empire were made partakers of the same\ncommon rights. The provincials flocked in; even slaves were no sooner\nenfranchised than they were advanced to the highest posts; and the plan\nof comprehension, which had overturned the republic, strengthened the\nmonarchy.\n\nBefore the partitions were thus broken down, in order to support the\nEmpire, and to prevent commotions, they had a custom of sending spies\ninto all the provinces, where, if they discovered any provincial laying\nhimself out for popularity, they were sure of finding means, for they\nscrupled none, to repress him. It was not only the pr\u00e6tor, with his\ntrain of lictors and apparitors, the rods and the axes, and all the\ninsolent parade of a conqueror's jurisdiction; every private Roman\nseemed a kind of magistrate: they took cognizance of all their words and\nactions, and hourly reminded them of that jealous and stern authority,\nso vigilant to discover and so severe to punish the slightest deviations\nfrom obedience.\n\nAs they had framed the action _de pecuniis repetundis_ against the\navarice and rapacity of the provincial governors, they made at length a\nlaw[23] which, one may say, was against their virtues. For they\nprohibited them from receiving addresses of thanks on their\nadministration, or any other public mark of acknowledgment, lest they\nshould come to think that their merit or demerit consisted in the good\nor ill opinion of the people over whom they ruled. They dreaded either a\nrelaxation of government, or a dangerous influence in the legate, from\nthe exertion of an humanity too popular.\n\nThese are some of the civil and political methods by which the Romans\nheld their dominion over conquered nations; but even in peace they kept\nup a great military establishment. They looked upon the interior country\nto be sufficiently secured by the colonies; their forces were therefore\ngenerally quartered on the frontiers. There they had their _stativa_, or\nstations, which were strong intrenched camps, many of them fitted even\nfor a winter residence. The communication between these camps, the\ncolonies, and the municipal towns was formed by great roads, which they\ncalled military ways. The two principal of these ran in almost straight\nlines, the whole length of England, from north to south. Two others\nintersected them from east to west. The remains show them to have been\nin their perfection noble works, in all respects worthy the Roman\nmilitary prudence and the majesty of the Empire. The Anglo-Saxons called\nthem streets.[24] Of all the Roman works, they respected and kept up\nthese alone. They regarded them, with a sort of sacred reverence,\ngranting them a peculiar protection and great immunities. Those who\ntravelled on them were privileged from arrests in all civil suits.\n\nAs the general character of the Roman government was hard and austere,\nit was particularly so in what regarded the revenue. This revenue was\neither fixed or occasional. The fixed consisted, first, of an annual tax\non persons and lands, but in what proportion to the fortunes of the one\nor the value of the other I have not been able to ascertain. Next was\nthe imposition called _decuma_, which consisted of a tenth, and often a\ngreater portion of the corn of the province, which was generally\ndelivered in kind. Of all other products a fifth was paid. After this\ntenth had been exacted on the corn, they were obliged to sell another\ntenth, or a more considerable part, to the pr\u00e6tor, at a price estimated\nby himself. Even what remained was still subject to be bought up in the\nsome manner, and at the pleasure of the same magistrate, who,\nindependent of these taxes and purchases, received for the use of his\nhousehold a large portion of the corn of the province. The most valuable\nof the pasture grounds were also reserved to the public, and a\nconsiderable revenue was thence derived, which they called _scriptura_.\nThe state made a monopoly of almost the whole produce of the land, which\npaid several taxes, and was further enhanced by passing through several\nhands before it came to popular consumption.\n\nThe third great branch of the Roman revenue was the _portorium_, which\ndid not differ from those impositions which we now call customs and\nduties of export and import.\n\nThis was the ordinary revenue; besides which there were occasional\nimpositions for shipping, for military stores and provisions, and for\ndefraying the expense of the pr\u00e6tor and his legates on the various\ncircuits they made for the administration of the province. This last\ncharge became frequently a means of great oppression, and several ways\nwere from time to time attempted, but with little effect, to confine it\nwithin reasonable bounds.[25] Amongst the extraordinary impositions must\nbe reckoned the obligation they laid on the provincials to labor at the\npublic works, after the manner of what the French call the _corv\u00e9e_, and\nwe term statute-labor.\n\nAs the provinces, burdened by the ordinary charges, were often in no\ncondition of levying these occasional taxes, they were obliged to borrow\nat interest. Interest was then to communities at the same exorbitant\nrate as to individuals. No province was free from a most onerous public\ndebt; and that debt was far from operating like the same engagement\ncontracted in modern states, by which, as the creditor is thrown into\nthe power of the debtor, they often add considerably to their strength,\nand to the number and attachment of their dependants. The prince in this\nlatter case borrows from a subject or from a stranger. The one becomes\nmore the subject, and the other less a stranger. But in the Roman\nprovinces the subject borrowed from his master, and he thereby doubled\nhis slavery. The overgrown favorites and wealthy nobility of Rome\nadvanced money to the provincials; and they were in a condition both to\nprescribe the terms of the loan and to enforce the payment. The\nprovinces groaned at once under all the severity of public imposition\nand the rapaciousness of private usury. They were overrun by publicans,\nfarmers of the taxes, agents, confiscators, usurers, bankers, those\nnumerous and insatiable bodies which always flourish in a burdened and\ncomplicated revenue. In a word, the taxes in the Roman Empire were so\nheavy, and in many respects so injudiciously laid on, that they have\nbeen not improperly considered as one cause of its decay and ruin. The\nRoman government, to the very last, carried something of the spirit of\nconquest in it; and this system of taxes seems rather calculated for the\nutter impoverishment of nations, in whom a long subjection had not worn\naway the remembrance of enmity, than for the support of a just\ncommonwealth.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[15] There is a curious instance of a ceremony not unlike this in a\nfragment of an ancient Runic history, which it may not be disagreeable\nto compare with this part of the British manners. \"Ne vero regent ex\nimproviso adoriretur Ulafus, admoto sacculo suo, eundem quatere\ncoepit, carmen simul magicum obmurmurans, hac verborum formula:\nDuriter increpetur cum tonitru; stringant Cyclopia tela; injiciant manum\nParc\u00e6; ... acriter excipient monticol\u00e6 genii plurimi, atque gigantes ...\ncontundent; quatient; procell\u00e6 ..., disrumpent lapides navigium\nejus....\"--Hickesii Thesaur. Vol. II. p. 140.\n\n[16] Inhabitants of Norfolk and Suffolk.\n\n[17] Rem Romanam huc satietate glori\u00e6 provectam, ut externis quoque\ngentibus quietem velit.--Tacit. Annal. XII. 11.\n\n[18] Nam duces, ubi impetrando triumphalium insigni sufficere res suas\ncrediderant, hostam omittebant.--Tacit. Annal. IV. 23.\n\n[19] Sigonii de Antiquo Jure Provinciarum, Lib. 1 and 2.\n\n[20] Cic. in Verrem, I.\n\n[21] Duobus insuper inserviendum tyrannis; quorum legatus in sanguinem,\nprocurator in bona s\u00e6viret--Tacit. Annal. XII. 60.\n\n[22] Ne vim principatus resolveret cuncta ad senatum vocando, eam\nconditionem esse imperandi, ut non aliter ratio constet, quam si uni\nreddatur.--Tacit. Annal. I. 6.\n\n[23] Tacit. Annal. XV. 21, 22.\n\n[24] The four roads they called Watling Street, Ikenild Street, Ermin\nStreet, and the Fosseway.\n\n[25] Cod. lib. XII. Tit. lxii.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE FALL OF THE ROMAN POWER IN BRITAIN.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 117.]\n\nAfter the period which we have just closed, no mention is made of the\naffairs of Britain until the reign of Adrian. At that time was wrought\nthe first remarkable change in the exterior policy of Rome. Although\nsome of the emperors contented themselves with those limits which they\nfound at their accession, none before this prince had actually\ncontracted the bounds of the Empire: for, being more perfectly\nacquainted with all the countries that composed it than any of his\npredecessors, what was strong and what weak, and having formed to\nhimself a plan wholly defensive, he purposely abandoned several large\ntracts of territory, that he might render what remained more solid and\ncompact.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 121.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 140.]\n\nThis plan particularly affected Britain. All the conquests of Agricola\nto the northward of the Tyne were relinquished, and a strong rampart was\nbuilt from the mouth of that river, on the east, to Solway Frith, on the\nIrish Sea, a length of about eighty miles. But in the reign of his\nsuccessor, Antoninus Pius, other reasonings prevailed, and other\nmeasures were pursued. The legate who then commanded in Britain,\nconcluding that the Caledonians would construe the defensive policy of\nAdrian into fear, that they would naturally grow more numerous in a\nlarger territory, and more haughty when they saw it abandoned to them,\nthe frontier was again advanced to Agricola's second line, which\nextended between the Friths of Forth and Clyde, and the stations which\nhad been established by that general were connected with a continued\nwall.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 207]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 208]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 209]\n\nFrom this time those walls become the principal object in the British\nhistory. The Caledonians, or (as they are called) the Picts, made very\nfrequent and sometimes successful attempts upon this barrier, taking\nadvantage more particularly of every change in government, whilst the\nsoldiery throughout the Empire were more intent upon the choice of a\nmaster than the motions of an enemy. In this dubious state of unquiet\npeace and unprosecuted war the province continued until Severus came to\nthe purple, who, finding that Britain had grown into one of the most\nconsiderable provinces of the Empire, and was at the same time in a\ndangerous situation, resolved to visit that island in person, and to\nprovide for its security. He led a vast army into the wilds of\nCaledonia, and was the first of the Romans who penetrated to the most\nnorthern boundary of this island. The natives, defeated in some\nengagements, and wholly unable to resist so great and determined a\npower, were obliged to submit to such a peace as the emperor thought\nproper to impose. Contenting himself with a submission, always cheaply\nwon from a barbarous people, and never long regarded, Severus made no\nsort of military establishment in that country. On the contrary, he\nabandoned the advanced work which had been raised in the reign of\nAntoninus, and, limiting himself by the plan of Adrian, he either built\na new wall near the former, or he added to the work of that emperor such\nconsiderable improvements and repairs that it has since been called the\nWall of Severus.\n\nSeverus with great labor and charge terrified the Caledonians; but he\ndid not subdue them. He neglected those easy and assured means of\nsubjection which the nature of that part of Britain affords to a power\nmaster of the sea, by the bays, friths, and lakes with which it is\neverywhere pierced, and in some places almost cut through. A few\ngarrisons at the necks of land, and a fleet to connect them and to awe\nthe coast, must at any time have been sufficient irrecoverably to subdue\nthat part of Britain. This was a neglect in Agricola occasioned probably\nby a limited command; and it was not rectified by boundless authority in\nSeverus. The Caledonians again resumed their arms, and renewed their\nravages on the Roman frontier. Severus died before he could take any new\nmeasures; and from his death there is an almost total silence concerning\nthe affairs of Britain until the division of the Empire.\n\nHad the unwieldy mass of that overgrown dominion been effectively\ndivided, and divided into large portions, each forming a state, separate\nand absolutely independent, the scheme had been far more perfect. Though\nthe Empire had perished, these states might have subsisted; and they\nmight have made a far better opposition to the inroads of the barbarians\neven than the whole united; since each nation would have its own\nstrength solely employed in resisting its own particular enemies. For,\nnotwithstanding the resources which might have been expected from the\nentireness of so great a body, it is clear from history that the Romans\nwere never able to employ with effect and at the same time above two\narmies, and that on the whole they were very unequal to the defence of a\nfrontier of many thousand miles in circuit.\n\nBut the scheme which was pursued, the scheme of joint emperors, holding\nby a common title, each governing his proper territory, but not wholly\nwithout authority in the other portions, this formed a species of\ngovernment of which it is hard to conceive any just idea. It was a\ngovernment in continual fluctuation from one to many, and from many\nagain to a single hand. Each state did not subsist long enough\nindependent to fall into those orders and connected classes of men that\nare necessary to a regular commonwealth; nor had they time to grow into\nthose virtuous partialities from which nations derive the first\nprinciple of their stability.\n\nThe events which follow sufficiently illustrate these reflections, and\nwill show the reason of introducing them in this place, with regard to\nthe Empire in general, and to Britain more particularly.\n\nIn the division which Diocletian first made of the Roman territory, the\nwestern provinces, in which Britain was included, fell to Maximian. It\nwas during his reign that Britain, by an extraordinary revolution, was\nfor some time entirely separated from the body of the Empire. Carausius,\na man of obscure birth, and a barbarian, (for now not only the army, but\nthe senate, was filled with foreigners,) had obtained the government of\nBoulogne. He was also intrusted with the command of a fleet stationed in\nthat part to oppose the Saxon pirates, who then began cruelly to infest\nthe northwest parts of Gaul and the opposite shore of Britain. But\nCarausius made use of the power with which he had been intrusted, not so\nmuch to suppress the pirates as to aggrandize himself. He even permitted\ntheir depredations, that he might intercept them on their return, and\nenrich himself with the retaken plunder. By such methods he acquired\nimmense wealth, which he distributed with so politic a bounty among the\nseamen of his fleet and the legions in Britain that by degrees he\ndisposed both the one and the other to a revolt in his favor.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 286]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 290]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 293]\n\nAs there were then no settled principles either of succession or\nelection in the Empire, and all depended on the uncertain faith of the\narmy, Carausius made his attempt, perhaps, with the less guilt, and\nfound the less difficulty in prevailing upon the provincial Britons to\nsubmit to a sovereignty which seemed to reflect a sort of dignity on\nthemselves. In this island he established the seat of his new dominion;\nbut he kept up and augmented his fleet, by which he preserved his\ncommunication with his old government, and commanded the intermediate\nseas. He entered into a close alliance with the Saxons and Frisians, by\nwhich he at once preserved his own island from their depredations and\nrendered his maritime power irresistible. He humbled the Picts by\nseveral defeats; he repaired the frontier wall, and supplied it with\ngood garrisons. He made several roads equal to the works of the greatest\nemperors. He cut canals, with vast labor and expense, through all the\nlow eastern parts of Britain, at the same time draining those fenny\ncountries, and promoting communication and commerce. On these canals he\nbuilt several cities. Whilst he thus labored to promote the internal\nstrength and happiness of his kingdom, he contended with so much success\nagainst his former masters that they were at length obliged not only to\nrelinquish their right to his acquisition, but to admit him to a\nparticipation of the imperial titles. He reigned after this for seven\nyears prosperously and with great glory, because he wisely set bounds to\nhis ambition, and contented himself with the possession of a great\ncountry, detached from the rest of the world, and therefore easily\ndefended. Had he lived long enough, and pursued this plan with\nconsistency, Britain, in all probability, might then have become, and\nmight have afterwards been, an independent and powerful kingdom,\ninstructed in the Roman arts, and freed from their dominion. But the\nsame distemper of the state which had raised Carausius to power did not\nsuffer him long to enjoy it. The Roman soldiery at that time was wholly\ndestitute of military principle. That religious regard to their oath,\nthe great bond of ancient discipline, had been long worn out; and the\nwant of it was not supplied by that punctilio of honor and loyalty which\nis the support of modern armies. Carausius was assassinated, and\nsucceeded in his kingdom by Allectus, the captain of his guards. But the\nmurderer, who did not possess abilities to support the power he had\nacquired by his crimes, was in a short time defeated, and in his turn\nput to death, by Constantius Chlorus. In about three years from the\ndeath of Carausius, Britain, after a short experiment of independency,\nwas again united to the body of the Empire.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 304]\n\nConstantius, after he came to the purple, chose this island for his\nresidence. Many authors affirm that his wife Helena was a Briton. It is\nmore certain that his son Constantine the Great was born here, and\nenabled to succeed his father principally by the helps which he derived\nfrom Britain.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 306.]\n\nUnder the reign of this great prince there was an almost total\nrevolution in the internal policy of the Empire. This was the third\nremarkable change in the Roman government since the dissolution of the\nCommonwealth. The first was that by which Antoninus had taken away the\ndistinctions of the _municipium_, province, and colony, communicating to\nevery part of the Empire those privileges which had formerly\ndistinguished a citizen of Rome. Thus the whole government was cast into\na more uniform and simple frame, and every mark of conquest was finally\neffaced. The second alteration was the division of the Empire by\nDiocletian. The third was the change made in the great offices of the\nstate, and the revolution in religion, under Constantine.\n\nThe _pr\u00e6fecti pr\u00e6torio_, who, like the commanders of the janizaries of\nthe Porte, by their ambition and turbulence had kept the government in\ncontinual ferment, were reduced by the happiest art imaginable. Their\nnumber, only two originally, was increased to four, by which their power\nwas balanced and broken. Their authority was not lessened, but its\nnature was totally changed: for it became from that time a dignity and\noffice merely civil. The whole Empire was divided into four departments\nunder these four officers. The subordinate districts were governed by\ntheir _vicarii_; and Britain, accordingly, was under a vicar, subject to\nthe _pr\u00e6fectus pr\u00e6torio_ of Gaul. The military was divided nearly in the\nsame manner; and it was placed under officers also of a new creation,\nthe _magistri militi\u00e6_. Immediately under these were the _duces_, and\nunder those the _comites_, dukes and counts, titles unknown in the time\nof the Republic or in the higher Empire; but afterwards they extended\nbeyond the Roman territory, and having been conferred by the Northern\nnations upon their leaders, they subsist to this day, and contribute to\nthe dignity of the modern courts of Europe.\n\nBut Constantine made a much greater change with regard to religion by\nthe establishment of Christianity. At what time the Gospel was first\npreached in this island I believe it impossible to ascertain, as it came\nin gradually, and without, or rather contrary to, public authority. It\nwas most probably first introduced among the legionary soldiers; for we\nfind St. Alban, the first British martyr, to have been of that body. As\nit was introduced privately, so its growth was for a long time\ninsensible; but it shot up at length with great vigor, and spread itself\nwidely, at first under the favor of Constantius and the protection of\nHelena, and at length under the establishment of Constantine. From this\ntime it is to be considered as the ruling religion; though heathenism\nsubsisted long after, and at last expired imperceptibly, and with as\nlittle noise as Christianity had been at first introduced.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 368.]\n\nIn this state, with regard to the civil, military, and religious\nestablishment, Britain, remained without any change, and at intervals in\na tolerable state of repose, until the reign of Valentinian. Then it was\nattacked all at once with incredible fury and success, and as it were in\nconcert, by a number of barbarous nations. The principal of these were\nthe Scots, a people of ancient settlement in Ireland, and who had thence\nbeen transplanted into the northern part of Britain, which afterwards\nderived its name from that colony. The Scots of both nations united with\nthe Picts to fall upon the Roman province. To these were added the\npiratical Saxons, who issued from the mouths of the Rhine. For some\nyears they met but slight resistance, and made a most miserable havoc,\nuntil the famous Count Theodosius was sent to the relief of\nBritain,--who, by an admirable conduct in war, and as vigorous\napplication to the cure of domestic disorders, for a time freed the\ncountry from its enemies and oppressors, and having driven the Picts and\nScots into the barren extremity of the island, he shut and barred them\nin with a new wall, advanced as far as the remotest of the former, and,\nwhat had hitherto been imprudently neglected, he erected the\nintermediate space into a Roman province, and a regular government,\nunder the name of Valentia. But this was only a momentary relief. The\nEmpire was perishing by the vices of its constitution.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 388.]\n\nEach province was then possessed by the inconsiderate ambition of\nappointing a head to the whole; although, when the end was obtained, the\nvictorious province always returned to its ancient insignificance, and\nwas lost in the common slavery. A great army of Britons followed the\nfortune of Maximus, whom they had raised to the imperial titles, into\nGaul. They were there defeated; and from their defeat, as it is said,\narose a new people. They are supposed to have settled in Armorica, which\nwas then, like many other parts of the sickly Empire, become a mere\ndesert; and that country, from this accident, has been since called\nBretagne.\n\nThe Roman province thus weakened afforded opportunity and encouragement\nto the barbarians again to invade and ravage it. Stilicho, indeed during\nthe minority of Honorius, obtained some advantages over them, which\nprocured a short intermission of their hostilities. But as the Empire on\nthe continent was now attacked on all sides, and staggered under the\ninnumerable shocks which, it received, that minister ventured to recall\nthe Roman forces from Britain, in order to sustain those parts which he\njudged of more importance and in greater danger.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 411.]\n\nOn the intelligence of this desertion, their barbarous enemies break in\nupon the Britons, and are no longer resisted. Their ancient protection\nwithdrawn, the people became stupefied with terror and despair. They\npetition the emperor for succor in the most moving terms. The emperor,\nprotesting his weakness, commits them to their own defence, absolves\nthem from, their allegiance, and confers on them a freedom which they\nhave no longer the sense to value nor the virtue to defend. The princes\nwhom after this desertion they raised and deposed with a stupid\ninconstancy were styled Emperors. So hard it is to change ideas to which\nmen have been long accustomed, especially in government, that the\nBritons had no notion of a sovereign who was not to be emperor, nor of\nan emperor who was not to be master of the Western world. This single\nidea ruined Britain. Constantine, a native of this island, one of those\nshadows of imperial majesty, no sooner found himself established at home\nthan, fatally for himself and his country, he turned his eyes towards\nthe continent. Thither he carried the flower of the British youth,--all\nwho were any ways eminent for birth, for courage, for their skill in the\nmilitary or mechanic arts; but his success was not equal to his hopes or\nhis forces. The remains of his routed army joined their countrymen in\nArmorica, and a baffled attempt upon the Empire a second time recruited\nGaul and exhausted Britain.\n\nThe Scots and Picts, attentive to every advantage, rushed with redoubled\nviolence into this vacuity. The Britons, who could find no protection\nbut in slavery, again implore the assistance of their former masters. At\nthat time A\u00ebtius commanded the imperial forces in Gaul, and with the\nvirtue and military skill of the ancient Romans supported the Empire,\ntottering with age and weakness. Though he was then hard pressed by the\nvast armies of Attila, which like a deluge had overspread Gaul, he\nafforded them a small and temporary succor. This detachment of Romans\nrepelled the Scots; they repaired the walls; and animating the Britons\nby their example and instructions to maintain their freedom, they\ndeparted. But the Scots easily perceived and took advantage of their\ndeparture. Whilst they ravaged the country, the Britons renewed their\nsupplications to A\u00ebtius. They once more obtained a reinforcement, which\nagain re\u00ebstablished their affairs. They were, however, given to\nunderstand that this was to be their last relief. The Roman auxiliaries\nwere recalled, and the Britons abandoned to their own fortune forever.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 432.]\n\nWhen the Romans deserted this island, they left a country, with regard\nto the arts of war or government, in a manner barbarous, but destitute\nof that spirit or those advantages with which sometimes a state of\nbarbarism is attended. They carried out of each province its proper and\nnatural strength, and supplied it by that of some other, which had no\nconnection with the country. The troops raised in Britain often served\nin Egypt; and those which were employed for the protection of this\nisland were sometimes from Batavia or Germany, sometimes from provinces\nfar to the east. Whenever the strangers were withdrawn, as they were\nvery easily, the province was left in the hands of men wholly\nunpractised in war. After a peaceable possession of more than three\nhundred years, the Britons derived but very few benefits from their\nsubjection to the conquerors and civilizers of mankind. Neither does it\nappear that the Roman people were at any time extremely numerous in this\nisland, or had spread themselves, their manners, or their language as\nextensively in Britain as they had done in the other parts of their\nEmpire. The Welsh and the Anglo-Saxon languages retain much less of\nLatin than the French, the Spanish, or the Italian. The Romans subdued\nBritain at a later period, at a time when Italy herself was not\nsufficiently populous to supply so remote a province: she was rather\nsupplied from her provinces. The military colonies, though in some\nrespects they were admirably fitted for their purposes, had, however,\none essential defect: the lands granted to the soldiers did not pass to\ntheir posterity; so that the Roman people must have multiplied poorly in\nthis island, when their increase principally depended on a succession of\nsuperannuated soldiers. From this defect the colonies were continually\nfalling to decay. They had also in many respects degenerated from their\nprimitive institution.[26] We must add, that in the decline of the\nEmpire a great part of the troops in Britain were barbarians, Batavians\nor Germans. Thus, at the close of this period, this unhappy country,\ndesolated of its inhabitants, abandoned by its masters, stripped of its\nartisans, and deprived of all its spirit, was in a condition the most\nwretched and forlorn.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[26] Neque conjugiis suscipiendis neque alendis liberis sueti, orbas\nsine posteris domos relinquebant. Non enim, ut olim, univers\u00e6 legiones\ndeducebantur cum tribunis et centurionibus et suis cujusque ordinis\nmilitibus, ut consensu et caritate rempublicam efficerent, sed ignoti\ninter se, diversis manipulis, sine rectore, sine affectibus mutuis,\nquasi ex alio genere mortalium repente in unum collecti, numerus magis\nquam colonia--Tacit. Annal. XIV. 27.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE ENTRY AND SETTLEMENT OF THE SAXONS, AND THEIR CONVERSION TO\nCHRISTIANITY.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 447.]\n\nAfter having been so long subject to a foreign dominion, there was among\nthe Britons no royal family, no respected order in the state, none of\nthose titles to government, confirmed by opinion and long use, more\nefficacious than the wisest schemes for the settlement of the nation.\nMere personal merit was then the only pretence to power. But this\ncircumstance only added to the misfortunes of a people who had no\norderly method of election, and little experience of merit in any of the\ncandidates. During this anarchy, whilst they suffered the most dreadful\ncalamities from the fury of barbarous nations which invaded them, they\nfell into that disregard of religion, and those loose, disorderly\nmanners, which are sometimes the consequence of desperate and hardened\nwretchedness, as well as the common distempers of ease and prosperity.\n\nAt length, after frequent elections and deposings, rather wearied out by\ntheir own inconstancy than, fixed by the merit of their choice, they\nsuffered Vortigern to reign over them. This leader had made some figure\nin the conduct of their wars and factious. But he was no sooner settled\non the throne than he showed himself rather like a prince born of an\nexhausted stock of royalty in the decline of empire than one of those\nbold and active spirits whose manly talents obtain them the first place\nin their country, and stamp upon it that character of vigor essential to\nthe prosperity of a new commonwealth. However, the mere settlement, in\nspite of the ill administration of government, procured the Britons some\ninternal repose, and some temporary advantages over their enemies, the\nPicts. But having been long habituated to defeats, neither relying on\ntheir king nor on themselves, and fatigued with the obstinate attacks of\nan enemy whom they sometimes checked, but could never remove, in one of\ntheir national assemblies it was resolved to call in the mercenary aid\nof the Saxons, a powerful nation of Germany, which had been long by\ntheir piratical incursions terrible not only to them, but to all the\nadjacent countries. This resolution has been generally condemned. It has\nbeen said, that they seem to have through mere cowardice distrusted a\nstrength not yet worn down, and a fortune sufficiently prosperous. But\nas it was taken by general counsel and consent, we must believe that the\nnecessity of such a step was felt, though the event was dubious. The\nevent, indeed, might be dubious: in a state radically weak, every\nmeasure vigorous enough for its protection must endanger its existence.\n\nThere is an unquestioned tradition among the Northern nations of Europe,\nimporting that all that part of the world had suffered a great and\ngeneral revolution by a migration from Asiatic Tartary of a people whom\nthey call Asers. These everywhere expelled or subdued the ancient\ninhabitants of the Celtic and Cimbric original. The leader of this\nAsiatic army was called Odin or Wodin: first their general, afterwards\ntheir tutelar deity. The time of this great change is lost in the\nimperfection of traditionary history, and the attempts to supply it by\nfable. It is, however, certain, that the Saxon nation believed\nthemselves the descendants of those conquerors: and they had as good a\ntitle to that descent as any other of the Northern tribes; for they used\nthe same language which then was and is still spoken, with small\nvariation of the dialects, in all the countries which extend from the\npolar circle to the Danube. This people most probably derived their\nname, as well as their origin, from, the Sac\u00e6, a nation of the Asiatic\nScythia. At the time of which we write they had seated themselves in the\nCimbric Chersonesus, or Jutland, in the countries of Holstein and\nSleswick, and thence extended along the Elbe and Weser to the coast of\nthe German Ocean, as far as the mouths of the Rhine. In that tract they\nlived in a sort of loose military commonwealth of the ordinary German\nmodel, under several leaders, the most eminent of whom was Hengist,\ndescended from Odin, the great conductor of the Asiatic colonies. It was\nto this chief that the Britons applied themselves. They invited him by a\npromise of ample pay for his troops, a large share of their common\nplunder, and the Isle of Thanet for a settlement.\n\nThe army which came over under Hengist did not exceed fifteen hundred\nmen. The opinion which the Britons had entertained of the Saxon prowess\nwas well founded; for they had the principal share in a decisive victory\nwhich was obtained over the Picts soon after their arrival, a victory\nwhich forever freed the Britons from all terror of the Picts and Scots,\nbut in the same moment exposed them to an enemy no less dangerous.\n\nHengist and his Saxons, who had obtained by the free vote of the Britons\nthat introduction into this island they had so long in vain attempted by\narms, saw that by being necessary they were superior to their allies.\nThey discovered the character of the king; they were eye-witnesses of\nthe internal weakness and distraction of the kingdom. This state of\nBritain was represented with so much effect to the Saxons in Germany,\nthat another and much greater embarkation followed the first; new bodies\ndaily crowded in. As soon as the Saxons began to be sensible of their\nstrength, they found it their interest to be discontented; they\ncomplained of breaches of a contract, which they construed according to\ntheir own designs; and then fell rudely upon their unprepared and feeble\nallies, who, as they had not been able to resist the Picts and Scots,\nwere still less in a condition to oppose that force by which they had\nbeen protected against those enemies, when turned unexpectedly upon\nthemselves. Hengist, with very little opposition, subdued the province\nof Kent, and there laid the foundation of the first Saxon kingdom. Every\nbattle the Britons fought only prepared them for a new defeat, by\nweakening their strength and displaying the inferiority of their\ncourage. Vortigern, instead of a steady and regular resistance, opposed\na mixture of timid war and unable negotiation. In one of their meetings,\nwherein the business, according to the German mode, was carried on\namidst feasting and riot, Vortigern was struck with the beauty of a\nSaxon virgin, a kinswoman of Hengist, and entirely under his influence.\nHaving married her, he delivered himself over to her counsels.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 452]\n\nHis people, harassed by their enemies, betrayed by their prince, and\nindignant at the feeble tyranny that oppressed them, deposed him, and\nset his son Vortimer in his place. But the change of the king proved no\nremedy for the exhausted state of the nation and the constitutional\ninfirmity of the government. For even if the Britons could have\nsupported themselves against the superior abilities and efforts of\nHengist, it might have added to their honor, but would have contributed\nlittle to their safety. The news of his success had roused all Saxony.\nFive great bodies of that adventurous people, under different and\nindependent commanders, very nearly at the same time broke in upon as\nmany different parts of the island. They came no longer as pirates, but\nas invaders. Whilst the Britons contended with one body of their fierce\nenemies, another gained ground, and filled with slaughter and desolation\nthe whole country from sea to sea. A devouring war, a dreadful famine, a\nplague, the most wasteful of any recorded in our history, united to\nconsummate the ruin of Britain. The ecclesiastical writers of that age,\nconfounded at the view of those complicated calamities, saw nothing but\nthe arm of God stretched out for the punishment of a sinful and\ndisobedient nation. And truly, when we set before us in one point of\nview the condition of almost all the parts which had lately composed the\nWestern Empire,--of Britain, of Gaul, of Italy, of Spain, of Africa,--at\nonce overwhelmed by a resistless inundation of most cruel barbarians,\nwhose inhuman method of war made but a small part of the miseries with\nwhich these nations were afflicted, we are almost driven out of the\ncircle of political inquiry: we are in a manner compelled to acknowledge\nthe hand of God in those immense revolutions by which at certain periods\nHe so signally asserts His supreme dominion, and brings about that great\nsystem of change which is perhaps as necessary to the moral as it is\nfound to be in the natural world.\n\nBut whatever was the condition of the other parts of Europe, it is\ngenerally agreed that the state of Britain was the worst of all. Some\nwriters have asserted, that, except those who took refuge in the\nmountains of Wales and in Cornwall, or fled into Armorica, the British\nrace was in a manner destroyed. What is extraordinary, we find England\nin a very tolerable state of population in less than two centuries after\nthe first invasion of the Saxons; and it is hard to imagine either the\ntransplantation or the increase of that single people to have been in so\nshort a time sufficient for the settlement of so great an extent of\ncountry. Others speak of the Britons, not as extirpated, but as reduced\nto a state of slavery; and here these writers fix the origin of personal\nand predial servitude in England.\n\nI shall lay fairly before the reader all I have been able to discover\nconcerning the existence or condition of this unhappy people. That they\nwere much more broken and reduced than any other nation which had fallen\nunder the German power I think may be inferred from two considerations.\nFirst, that in all other parts of Europe the ancient language subsisted\nafter the conquest, and at length incorporated with that of the\nconquerors; whereas in England the Saxon language received little or no\ntincture from the Welsh; and it seems, even among the lowest people, to\nhave continued a dialect of pure Teutonic to the time in which it was\nitself blended with the Norman. Secondly, that on the continent the\nChristian religion, after the Northern irruptions, not only remained,\nbut flourished. It was very early and universally adopted by the ruling\npeople. In England it was so entirely extinguished, that, when Augustin\nundertook his mission, it does not appear that among all the Saxons\nthere was a single person professing Christianity.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 500]\n\nThe sudden extinction of the ancient religion, and language appears\nsufficient to show that Britain must have suffered more than any of the\nneighboring nations on the continent. But it must not be concealed that\nthere are likewise proofs that the British race, though much diminished,\nwas not wholly extirpated, and that those who remained were not, merely\nas Britons, reduced to servitude. For they are mentioned as existing in\nsome of the earlier Saxon laws. In these laws they are allowed a\ncompensation on the footing of the meaner kind of English; and they are\neven permitted, as well as the English, to emerge out of that low rank\ninto a more liberal condition. This is degradation, but not slavery.[27]\nThe affairs of that whole period are, however, covered with an obscurity\nnot to be dissipated. The Britons had little leisure or ability to write\na just account of a war by which they were ruined; and the Anglo-Saxons\nwho succeeded them, attentive only to arms, were, until their\nconversion, ignorant of the use of letters.\n\nIt is on this darkened theatre that some old writers have introduced\nthose characters and actions which have afforded such ample matter to\npoets and so much perplexity to historians. This is the fabulous and\nheroic age of our nation. After the natural and just representations of\nthe Roman scene, the stage is again crowded with enchanters, giants, and\nall the extravagant images of the wildest and most remote antiquity. No\npersonage makes so conspicuous a figure in these stories as King Arthur:\na prince whether of British or Roman origin, whether born on this island\nor in Amorica, is uncertain; but it appears that he opposed the Saxons\nwith remarkable virtue and no small degree of success, which has\nrendered him and his exploits so large an argument of romance that both\nare almost disclaimed by history. Light scarce begins to dawn until the\nintroduction of Christianity, which, bringing with it the use of letters\nand the arts of civil life, affords at once a juster account of things\nand facts that are more worthy of relation: nor is there, indeed, any\nrevolution so remarkable in the English story.\n\nThe bishops of Rome had for some time meditated the conversion of the\nAnglo-Saxons. Pope Gregory, who is surnamed the Great, affected that\npious design with an uncommon zeal; and he at length found a\ncircumstance highly favorable to it in the marriage of a daughter of\nCharibert, a king of the Franks, to the reigning monarch of Kent. This\nopportunity induced Pope Gregory to commission Augustin, a monk of\nRheims, and a man of distinguished piety, to undertake this arduous\nenterprise.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 600]\n\nIt was in the year of Christ 600, and 150 years after the coming of the\nfirst Saxon colonies into England, that Ethelbert, king of Kent,\nreceived intelligence of the arrival in his dominions of a number of\nmen in a foreign garb, practising several strange and unusual\nceremonies, who desired to be conducted to the king's presence,\ndeclaring that they had things to communicate to him and to his people\nof the utmost importance to their eternal welfare. This was Augustin,\nwith forty of the associates of his mission, who now landed in the Isle\nof Thanet, the same place by which the Saxons had before entered, when\nthey extirpated Christianity.\n\nThe king heard them in the open air, in order to defeat,[28] upon a\nprinciple of Druidical superstition, the effects of their enchantments.\nAugustin spoke by a Frankish interpreter. The Franks and Saxons were of\nthe same origin, and used at that time the same language. He was\nfavorably received; and a place in the city of Canterbury, the capital\nof Kent, was allotted for the residence of him and his companions. They\nentered Canterbury in procession, preceded by two persons who bore a\nsilver cross and the figure of Christ painted on a board, singing, as\nthey went, litanies to avert the wrath of God from that city and people.\n\nThe king was among their first converts. Tho principal of his nobility,\nas usual, followed that example, moved, as it is related, by many signal\nmiracles, but undoubtedly by the extraordinary zeal of the missionaries,\nand the pious austerity of their lives. The new religion, by the\nprotection of so respected a prince, who held under his dominion or\ninfluence all the countries to the southward of the Humber, spread\nitself with great rapidity. Paganism, after a faint resistance,\neverywhere gave way. And, indeed, the chief difficulties which\nChristianity had to encounter did not arise so much from the struggles\nof opposite religious prejudices as from the gross and licentious\nmanners of a barbarous people. One of the Saxon princes expelled the\nChristians from his territory because the priest refused to give him\nsome of that white bread which he saw distributed to his congregation.\n\nIt is probable that the order of Druids either did not at all subsist\namongst the Anglo-Saxons, or that at this time it had declined not a\nlittle from its ancient authority and reputation; else it is not easy to\nconceive how they admitted so readily a new system, which at one stroke\ncut off from their character its whole importance. We even find some\nchiefs of the Pagan priesthood amongst the foremost in submitting to the\nnew doctrine. On the first preaching of the Gospel in Northumberland,\nthe heathen pontiff of that territory immediately mounted a horse, which\nto those of his order was unlawful, and, breaking into the sacred\ninclosure, hewed to pieces the idol he had so long served.[29]\n\nIf the order of the Druids did not subsist amongst the Saxons, yet the\nchief objects of their religion appear to have been derived from that\nfountain. They, indeed, worshipped several idols under various forms of\nmen and beasts; and those gods to whom they dedicated the days of the\nweek bore in their attributes, and in the particular days that were\nconsecrated to them, though not in their names, a near resemblance to\nthe divinities of ancient Rome. But still the great and capital objects\nof their worship were taken from Druidism,--trees, stones, the elements,\nand the heavenly bodies.[30] These were their principal devotions, laid\nthe strongest hold upon their minds, and resisted the progress of the\nChristian religion with the greatest obstinacy: for we find these\nsuperstitions forbidden amongst the latest Saxon laws. A worship which\nstands in need of the memorial of images or books to support it may\nperish when these are destroyed; but when a superstition is established\nupon those great objects of Nature which continually solicit the senses,\nit is extremely difficult to turn the mind from things that in\nthemselves are striking, and that are always present. Amongst the\nobjects of this class must be reckoned the goddess Eostre, who, from the\netymology of the name, as well as from the season sacred to her, was\nprobably that beautiful planet which the Greeks and Romans worshipped\nunder the names of Lucifer and Venus. It is from this goddess that in\nEngland the paschal festival has been called Easter.[31] To these they\njoined the reverence of various subordinate genii, or demons, fairies,\nand goblins,--fantastical ideas, which, in a state of uninstructed\nNature, grow spontaneously out of the wild fancies or fears of men.\nThus, they worshipped a sort of goddess, whom they called Mara, formed\nfrom those frightful appearances that oppress men in their sleep; and\nthe name is still retained among us.[32]\n\nAs to the manners of the Anglo-Saxons, they were such as might be\nexpected in a rude people,--fierce, and of a gross simplicity. Their\nclothes were short. As all barbarians are much taken with exterior\nform, and the advantages and distinctions which are conferred by Nature,\nthe Saxons set an high value on comeliness of person, and studied much\nto improve it. It is remarkable that a law of King Ina orders the care\nand education of foundlings to be regulated by their beauty.[33] They\ncherished their hair to a great length, and were extremely proud and\njealous of this natural ornament. Some of their great men were\ndistinguished by an appellative taken from the length of their hair.[34]\nTo pull the hair was punishable;[35] and forcibly to cut or injure it\nwas considered in the same criminal light with cutting off the nose or\nthrusting out the eyes. In the same design of barbarous ornament, their\nfaces were generally painted and scarred. They were so fond of chains\nand bracelets that they have given a surname to some of their kings from\ntheir generosity in bestowing such marks of favor.[36]\n\nFew things discover the state of the arts amongst people more certainly\nthan the presents that are made to them by foreigners. The Pope, on his\nfirst mission into Northumberland, sent to the queen of that country\nsome stuffs with ornaments of gold, an ivory comb inlaid with the same\nmetal, and a silver mirror. A queen's want of such female ornaments and\nutensils shows that the arts were at this time little cultivated amongst\nthe Saxons. These are the sort of presents commonly sent to a barbarous\npeople.\n\nThus ignorant in sciences and arts, and unpractised in trade or\nmanufacture, military exercises, war, and the preparation for war, was\ntheir employment, hunting their pleasure. They dwelt in cottages of\nwicker-work plastered with clay and thatched with rushes, where they sat\nwith their families, their officers and domestics, round a fire made in\nthe middle of the house. In this manner their greatest princes lived\namidst the ruins of Roman magnificence. But the introduction of\nChristianity, which, under whatever form, always confers such\ninestimable benefits on mankind, soon made a sensible change in these\nrude and fierce manners.\n\nIt is by no means impossible, that, for an end so worthy, Providence on\nsome occasions might directly have interposed. The books which contain\nthe history of this time and change are little else than a narrative of\nmiracles,--frequently, however, with such apparent marks of weakness or\ndesign that they afford little encouragement to insist on them. They\nwere then received with a blind credulity: they have been since rejected\nwith as undistinguishing a disregard. But as it is not in my design nor\ninclination, nor indeed in my power, either to establish or refute these\nstories, it is sufficient to observe, that the reality or opinion of\nsuch miracles was the principal cause of the early acceptance and rapid\nprogress of Christianity in this island. Other causes undoubtedly\nconcurred; and it will be more to our purpose to consider some of the\nhuman and politic ways by which religion was advanced in this nation,\nand those more particularly by which the monastic institution, then\ninterwoven with Christianity, and making an equal progress with it,\nattained to so high a pitch, of property and power, so as, in a time\nextremely short, to form a kind of order, and that not the least\nconsiderable, in the state.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[27] Leges In\u00e6, 32, De Cambrico Homine Agrum possidente.--Id. 54\n\n[28] \"Veteri usus augurio,\" says Henry of Huntingdon, p. 321.\n\n[29] Bede, Hist. Eccl. Lib. II. c 13.\n\n[30] Deos gentiles, et solem vel lunam, ignem vel fluvium, torrentem vel\nsaxa, vel alicujus generis arborum ligna.--L. Cnut. 5.--Superstitiosus\nille conventus, qui Frithgear dicitur, circa lapidem, arborem,\nfontem.--Leg. Presb. Northumb.\n\n[31] Spelman's Glossary, Tit. eod.\n\n[32] The night-mare.\n\n[33] L. In\u00e6, 26.\n\n[34] Oslacus ... promiss\u00e2 c\u00e6sarie heros.--Chron. Saxon. 123.\n\n[35] L. \u00c6lfred. 31. L. Cnut. apud Brompt. 27.\n\n[36] Eadgarus nobilibus torquium largitor.--Chron. Sax. 123 Bed. Hist.\nEccl. Lib. IV. c. 29.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY--OF MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS--AND OF THEIR\nEFFECTS.\n\n\nThe marriage of Ethelbert to a Christian princess was, we have seen, a\nmeans of introducing Christianity into his dominions. The same influence\ncontributed to extend it in the other kingdoms of the Heptarchy, the\nsovereigns of which were generally converted by their wives. Among the\nancient nations of Germany, the female sex was possessed not only of its\nnatural and common ascendant, but it was believed peculiarly sacred,[37]\nand favored with more frequent revelations of the Divine will; women\nwere therefore heard with an uncommon attention in all deliberations,\nand particularly in those that regarded religion. The Pagan superstition\nof the North furnished, in this instance, a principle which contributed\nto its own destruction.\n\nIn the change of religion, care was taken to render the transition from\nfalsehood to truth as little violent as possible. Though the first\nproselytes were kings, it does not appear that there was any\npersecution. It was a precept of Pope Gregory, under whose auspices this\nmission was conducted, that the heathen temples should not be destroyed,\nespecially where they were well built,--but that, first removing the\nidols, they should be consecrated anew by holier rites and to better\npurposes,[38] in order that the prejudices of the people might not be\ntoo rudely shocked by a declared profanation of what they had so long\nheld sacred, and that, everywhere beholding the same places to which\nthey had formerly resorted for religious comfort, they might be\ngradually reconciled to the new doctrines and ceremonies which, were\nthere introduced; and as the sacrifices used in the Pagan worship were\nalways attended with feasting, and consequently were highly grateful to\nthe multitude, the Pope ordered that oxen, should as usual be\nslaughtered near the church, and the people indulged in their ancient\nfestivity.[39] Whatever popular customs of heathenism were found to be\nabsolutely not incompatible with Christianity were retained; and some of\nthem were continued to a very late period. Deer were at a certain season\nbrought into St. Paul's church in London, and laid on the altar;[40] and\nthis custom subsisted until the Reformation. The names of some of the\nChurch festivals were, with a similar design, taken from those of the\nheathen which had been celebrated at the same time of the year. Nothing\ncould have been more prudent than these regulations: they were, indeed,\nformed from a perfect understanding of human nature.\n\nWhilst the inferior people were thus insensibly led into a better order,\nthe example and countenance of the great completed the work. For the\nSaxon kings and ruling men embraced religion with so signal, and in\ntheir rank so unusual a zeal, that in many instances they even\nsacrificed to its advancement the prime objects of their ambition.\nWulfhere, king of the West Saxons, bestowed the Isle of Wight on the\nking of Sussex, to persuade him to embrace Christianity.[41] This zeal\noperated in the same manner in favor of their instructors. The greatest\nkings and conquerors frequently resigned their crowns and shut\nthemselves up in monasteries. When kings became monks, a high lustre was\nreflected upon the monastic state, and great credit accrued to the power\nof their doctrine, which was able to produce such extraordinary effects\nupon persons over whom religion has commonly the slightest influence.\n\nThe zeal of the missionaries was also much assisted by their superiority\nin the arts of civil life. At their first preaching in Sussex, that\ncountry was reduced to the greatest distress from a drought, which had\ncontinued for three years. The barbarous inhabitants, destitute of any\nmeans to alleviate the famine, in an epidemic transport of despair\nfrequently united forty and fifty in a body, and, joining their hands,\nprecipitated themselves from the cliffs, and were either drowned or\ndashed to pieces on the rocks. Though a maritime people, they knew not\nhow to fish; and this ignorance probably arose from a remnant of\nDruidical superstition, which had forbidden the use of that sort of\ndiet. In this calamity, Bishop Wilfrid, their first preacher, collecting\nnets, at the head of his attendants, plunged into the sea; and having\nopened this great resource of food, he reconciled the desperate people\nto life, and their minds to the spiritual care of those who had shown\nthemselves so attentive to their temporal preservation.[42]\n\nThe same regard to the welfare of the people appeared in all their\nactions. The Christian kings sometimes made donations to the Church of\nlands conquered from their heathen enemies. The clergy immediately\nbaptized and manumitted their new vassals. Thus they endeared to all\nsorts of men doctrines and teachers which could mitigate the rigorous\nlaw of conquest; and they rejoiced to see religion and liberty advancing\nwith, an equal progress. Nor were the monks in this time in anything\nmore worthy of praise than in their zeal for personal freedom. In the\ncanon wherein they provided against the alienation of their lands, among\nother charitable exceptions to this restraint they particularize the\npurchase of liberty[43]. In their transactions with the great the same\npoint was always strenuously labored. When they imposed penance, they\nwere remarkably indulgent to persons of that rank; but they always made\nthem purchase the remission of corporal austerity by acts of\nbeneficence. They urged their powerful penitents to the enfranchisement\nof their own slaves, and to the redemption of those which belonged to\nothers; they directed them to the repair of highways, and to the\nconstruction of churches, bridges, and other works of general\nutility.[44] They extracted the fruits of virtue even from crimes; and\nwhenever a great man expiated his private offences, he provided in the\nsame act for the public happiness. The monasteries were then the only\nbodies corporate in the kingdom; and if any persons were desirous to\nperpetuate their charity by a fund for the relief of the sick or\nindigent, there was no other way than to confide this trust to some\nmonastery. The monks were the sole channel through which the bounty of\nthe rich could pass in any continued stream to the poor; and the people\nturned their eyes towards them in all their distresses. We must observe,\nthat the monks of that time, especially those from Ireland,[45] who had\na considerable share in the conversion of all the northern parts, did\nnot show that rapacious desire of riches which long disgraced and\nfinally ruined their successors. Not only did they not seek, but seemed\neven to shun such donations. This prevented that alarm which might have\narisen from an early and declared avarice. At this time the most fervent\nand holy anchorites retired to places the furthest that could be found\nfrom human concourse and help, to the most desolate and barren\nsituations, which even from their horror seemed particularly adapted to\nmen who had renounced the world. Many persons followed them in order to\npartake of their instructions and prayers, or to form themselves upon\ntheir example. An opinion of their miracles after their death drew still\ngreater numbers. Establishments were gradually made. The monastic life\nwas frugal, and the government moderate. These causes drew a constant\nconcourse. Sanctified deserts assumed a new face; the marshes were\ndrained, and the lands cultivated. And as this revolution seemed rather\nthe effect of the holiness of the place than of any natural causes, it\nincreased their credit; and every improvement drew with it a new\ndonation. In this manner the great abbeys of Croyland and Glastonbury,\nand many others, from the most obscure beginnings, were advanced to a\ndegree of wealth and splendor little less than royal.\n\nIn these rude ages government was not yet fixed upon solid principles,\nand everything was full of tumult and distraction. As the monasteries\nwere better secured from violence by their character than any other\nplaces by laws, several great men, and even sovereign princes, were\nobliged to take refuge in convents; who, when, by a more happy\nrevolution in their fortunes, they were reinstated in their former\ndignities, thought they could never make a sufficient return for the\nsafety they had enjoyed under the sacred hospitality of these roofs. Not\ncontent to enrich them with ample possessions, that others also might\npartake of the protection they had experienced, they formally erected\ninto an asylum those monasteries, and their adjacent territory. So that\nall thronged to that refuge who were rendered unquiet by their crimes,\ntheir misfortunes, or the severity of their lords; and content to live\nunder a government to which their minds were subject, they raised the\nimportance of their masters by their numbers, their labor, and, above\nall, by an inviolable attachment.\n\nThe monastery was always the place of sepulture for the greatest lords\nand kings. This added to the other causes of reverence a sort of\nsanctity, which, in universal opinion, always attends the repositories\nof the dead: and they acquired also thereby a more particular\nprotection against the great and powerful; for who would violate the\ntomb of his ancestors or his own? It was not an unnatural weakness to\nthink that some advantage might be derived from lying in holy places and\namongst holy persons: and this superstition was fomented with the\ngreatest industry and art. The monks of Glastonbury spread a notion that\nit was almost impossible any person should be damned whose body lay in\ntheir cemetery. This must be considered as coming in aid of the amplest\nof their resources, prayer for the dead.\n\nBut there was no part of their policy, of whatever nature, that procured\nto them a greater or juster credit than their cultivation of learning\nand useful arts: for, if the monks contributed to the fall of science in\nthe Roman Empire, it is certain that the introduction of learning and\ncivility into this Northern world is entirely owing to their labors. It\nis true that they cultivated letters only in a secondary way, and as\nsubsidiary to religion. But the scheme of Christianity is such that it\nalmost necessitates an attention to many kinds of learning. For the\nScripture is by no means an irrelative system of moral and divine\ntruths; but it stands connected with so many histories, and with the\nlaws, opinions, and manners of so many various sorts of people, and in\nsuch different times, that it is altogether impossible to arrive to any\ntolerable knowledge of it without having recourse to much exterior\ninquiry: for which reason the progress of this religion has always been\nmarked by that of letters. There were two other circumstances at this\ntime that contributed no less to the revival of learning. The sacred\nwritings had not been translated into any vernacular language, and even\nthe ordinary service of the Church was still continued in the Latin\ntongue; all, therefore, who formed themselves for the ministry, and\nhoped to make any figure in it, were in a manner driven to the study of\nthe writers of polite antiquity, in order to qualify themselves for\ntheir most ordinary functions. By this means a practice liable in itself\nto great objections had a considerable share in preserving the wrecks of\nliterature, and was one means of conveying down to our times those\ninestimable monuments which otherwise, in the tumult of barbarous\nconfusion on one hand, and untaught piety on the other, must inevitably\nhave perished. The second circumstance, the pilgrimages of that age, if\nconsidered in itself, was as liable to objection as the former; but it\nproved of equal advantage to the cause of literature. A principal object\nof these pious journeys was Rome, which contained all the little that\nwas left in the Western world of ancient learning and taste. The other\ngreat object of those pilgrimages was Jerusalem: this led them into the\nGrecian Empire, which still subsisted in the East with great majesty and\npower. Here the Greeks had not only not discontinued the ancient\nstudies, but they added to the stock of arts many inventions of\ncuriosity and convenience that were unknown to antiquity. When,\nafterwards, the Saracens prevailed in that part of the world, the\npilgrims had also by the same means an opportunity of profiting from the\nimprovements of that laborious people; and however little the majority\nof these pious travellers might have had such objects in their view,\nsomething useful must unavoidably have stuck to them; a few certainly\nsaw with more discernment, and rendered their travels serviceable to\ntheir country by importing other things besides miracles and legends.\nThus a communication was opened between this remote island and countries\nof which it otherwise could then scarcely have heard mention made; and\npilgrimages thus preserved that intercourse amongst mankind which is now\nformed by politics, commerce, and learned curiosity.\n\nIt is not wholly unworthy of observation, that Providence, which\nstrongly appears to have intended the continual intermixture of mankind,\nnever leaves the human mind destitute of a principle to effect it. This\npurpose is sometimes carried on by a sort of migratory instinct,\nsometimes by the spirit of conquest; at one time avarice drives men from\ntheir homes, at another they are actuated by a thirst of knowledge;\nwhere none of these causes can operate, the sanctity of particular\nplaces attracts men from the most distant quarters. It was this motive\nwhich sent thousands in those ages to Jerusalem and Rome, and now, in a\nfull tide, impels half the world annually to Mecca.\n\nBy those voyages the seeds of various kinds of knowledge and improvement\nwere at different times imported into England. They were cultivated in\nthe leisure and retirement of monasteries; otherwise they could not have\nbeen cultivated at all: for it was altogether necessary to draw certain\nmen from the general rude and fierce society, and wholly to set a bar\nbetween them and the barbarous life of the rest of the world, in order\nto fit them for study and the cultivation of arts and science.\nAccordingly, we find everywhere in the first institutions for the\npropagation of knowledge amongst any people, that those who followed it\nwere set apart and secluded from the mass of the community.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 682]\n\nThe great ecclesiastical chair of this kingdom, for near a century, was\nfilled by foreigners. They were nominated by the Popes, who were in that\nage just or politic enough to appoint persons of a merit in some degree\nadequate to that important charge. Through this series of foreign and\nlearned prelates, continual accessions were made to the originally\nslender stock of English literature. The greatest and most valuable of\nthese accessions was made in the time and by the care of Theodorus, the\nseventh Archbishop of Canterbury. He was a Greek by birth, a man of a\nhigh ambitious spirit, and of a mind more liberal and talents better\ncultivated than generally fell to the lot of the Western prelates. He\nfirst introduced the study of his native language into this island. He\nbrought with him a number of valuable books in many faculties, and\namongst them a magnificent copy of the works of Homer, the most ancient\nand best of poets, and the best chosen to inspire a people just\ninitiated into letters with an ardent love and with a true taste for the\nsciences. Under his influence a school was formed at Canterbury; and\nthus the other great fountain of knowledge, the Greek tongue, was opened\nin England in the year of our Lord 669.\n\nThe southern parts of England received their improvements directly\nthrough the channel of Rome. The kingdom of Northumberland, as soon as\nit was converted, began to contend with the southern provinces in an\nemulation of piety and learning. The ecclesiastics then [there?] also\nkept up and profited by their intercourse with Rome; but they found\ntheir principal resources of knowledge from another and a more\nextraordinary quarter. The island of Hii, or Columbkill,[46] is a small\nand barren rock in the Western Ocean. But in those days it was high in\nreputation as the site of a monastery which had acquired great renown\nfor the rigor of its studies and the severity of its ascetic discipline.\nIts authority was extended over all the northern parts of Britain and\nIreland; and the monks of Hii even exercised episcopal jurisdiction over\nall those regions. They had a considerable share both in the religious\nand literate institution of the Northumbrians. Another island, of still\nless importance, in the mouth of the Tees [Tweed?], and called\nLindisfarne, was about this time sanctified by the austerities of an\nhermit called Cuthbert. It soon became also a very celebrated monastery.\nIt was, from a dread of the ravages of pirates, removed first to the\nadjacent part of the continent, and on the same account finally to\nDurham. The heads of this monastery omitted nothing which could\ncontribute to the glory of their founder and to the dignity of their\nhouse, which became, in a very short time, by their assiduous endeavors,\nthe most considerable school perhaps in Europe.\n\nThe great and justest boast of this monastery is the Venerable Beda, who\nwas educated and spent his whole life there. An account of his writings\nis an account of the English learning in that age, taken in its most\nadvantageous view. Many of his works remain, and he wrote both in prose\nand verse, and upon all sorts of subjects. His theology forms the most\nconsiderable part of his writings. He wrote comments upon almost the\nwhole Scripture, and several homilies on the principal festivals of the\nChurch. Both the comments and sermons are generally allegorical in the\nconstruction of the text, and simply moral in the application. In these\ndiscourses several things seem strained and fanciful; but herein he\nfollowed entirely the manner of the earlier fathers, from whom the\ngreatest part of his divinity is not so much imitated as extracted. The\nsystematic and logical method, which seems to have been first introduced\ninto theology by John of Damascus, and which after wards was known by\nthe name of School Divinity, was not then in use, at least in the\nWestern Church, though soon after it made an amazing progress. In this\nscheme the allegorical gave way to the literal explication, the\nimagination had less scope, and the affections were less touched. But it\nprevailed by an appearance more solid and philosophical, by an order\nmore scientific, and by a readiness of application either for the\nsolution or the exciting of doubts and difficulties.\n\nThey also cultivated in this monastery the study of natural philosophy\nand astronomy. There remain of Beda one entire book and some scattered\nessays on these subjects. This book, _De Rerum Natura_, is concise and\nmethodical, and contains no very contemptible abstract of the physics\nwhich were taught in the decline of the Roman Empire. It was somewhat\nunfortunate that the infancy of English learning was supported by the\ndotage of the Roman, and that even the spring-head from whence they drew\ntheir instructions was itself corrupted. However, the works of the great\nmasters of the ancient science still remained; but in natural philosophy\nthe worst was the most fashionable. The Epicurean physics, the most\napproaching to rational, had long lost all credit by being made the\nsupport of an impious theology and a loose morality. The fine visions of\nPlato fell into some discredit by the abuse which heretics had made of\nthem; and the writings of Aristotle seem to have been then the only ones\nmuch regarded, even in natural philosophy, in which branch of science\nalone they are unworthy of him. Beda entirely follows his system. The\nappearances of Nature are explained by matter and form, and by the four\nvulgar elements, acted upon by the four supposed qualities of hot, dry,\nmoist, and cold. His astronomy is on the common system of the ancients,\nsufficient for the few purposes to which they applied it, but otherwise\nimperfect and grossly erroneous. He makes the moon larger than the\nearth; though a reflection on the nature of eclipses, which he\nunderstood, might have satisfied him of the contrary. But he had so much\nto copy that he had little time to examine. These speculations, however\nerroneous, were still useful; for, though men err in assigning the\ncauses of natural operations, the works of Nature are by this means\nbrought under their consideration, which cannot be done without\nenlarging the mind. The science may be false or frivolous; the\nimprovement will be real. It may here be remarked, that soon afterwards\nthe monks began to apply themselves to astronomy and chronology, from\nthe disputes, which were carried on with so much heat and so little\neffect, concerning the proper time of celebrating Easter; and the\nEnglish owed the cultivation of these noble sciences to one of the most\ntrivial controversies of ecclesiastic discipline.\n\nBeda did not confine his attention to those superior sciences. He\ntreated of music, and of rhetoric, of grammar, and the art of\nversification, and of arithmetic, both by letters and on the fingers;\nand his work on this last subject is the only one in which that piece\nof antique curiosity has been preserved to us. All these are short\npieces; some of them are in the catechetical method, and seem designed\nfor the immediate use of the pupils in his monastery, in order to\nfurnish them with some leading ideas in the rudiments of these arts,\nthen newly introduced into his country. He likewise made, and probably\nfor the same purpose, a very ample and valuable collection of short\nphilosophical, political, and moral maxims, from Aristotle, Plato,\nSeneca, and other sages of heathen antiquity. He made a separate book of\nshining commonplaces and remarkable passages extracted from the works of\nCicero, of whom he was a great admirer, though he seems to have been not\nan happy or diligent imitator in his style. From a view of these pieces\nwe may form an idea of what stock in the science the English at that\ntime possessed, and what advances they had made. That work of Beda which\nis the best known and most esteemed is the Ecclesiastical History of the\nEnglish nation. Disgraced by a want of choice and frequently by a\nconfused ill disposition of his matter, and blemished with a degree of\ncredulity next to infantine, it is still a valuable, and for the time a\nsurprising performance. The book opens with a description of this island\nwhich would not have disgraced a classical author; and he has prefixed\nto it a chronological abridgment of sacred and profane history\nconnected, from the beginning of the world, which, though not critically\nadapted to his main design, is of far more intrinsic value, and indeed\ndisplays a vast fund of historical erudition. On the whole, though this\nfather of the English learning seems to have been but a genius of the\nmiddle class, neither elevated nor subtile, and one who wrote in a low\nstyle, simple, but not elegant, yet, when we reflect upon the time in\nwhich he lived, the place in which he spent his whole life, within the\nwalls of a monastery, in so remote and wild a country, it is impossible\nto refuse him the praise of an incredible industry and a generous thirst\nof knowledge.\n\nThat a nation who not fifty years before had but just begun to emerge\nfrom a barbarism so perfect that they were unfurnished even with an\nalphabet should in so short a time have established so flourishing a\nseminary of learning, and have produced so eminent a teacher, is a\ncircumstance which I imagine no other nation besides England can boast.\n\nHitherto we have spoken only of their Latin and Greek literature. They\ncultivated also their native language, which, according to the opinions\nof the most adequate judges, was deficient neither in energy nor beauty,\nand was possessed of such an happy flexibility as to be capable of\nexpressing with grace and effect every new technical idea introduced\neither by theology or science. They were fond of poetry; they sung at\nall their feasts; and it was counted extremely disgraceful not to be\nable to take a part in these performances, even when they challenged\neach other to a sudden exertion of the poetic spirit. C\u00e6dmon, afterwards\none of the most eminent of their poets, was disgraced in this manner\ninto an exertion of a latent genius. He was desired in his turn to sing,\nbut, being ignorant and full of natural sensibility, retired in\nconfusion from the company, and by instant and strenuous application\nsoon became a distinguished proficient in the art.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[37] Inesse quinetiam sanctum aliquid et providum putant; nec aut\nconsilia carum aspernantur aut responsa negligunt.--Tacit. de Mor. Ger.\nc. 8.\n\n[38] Bed. Hist. Eccl. Lib. I. c. 30.\n\n[39] Id. c. cod.\n\n[40] Dugdale's History of St. Paul's.\n\n[41] Bed. Hist. Eccl. Lib. IV. c. 13.\n\n[42] Bed. Hist. Eccl. Lib IV. c. 13.\n\n[43] Spelm. Concil. p. 329.\n\n[44] Instauret etiam Dei ecclesiam; ... et instauret vias publicas\npontibus super aquas profundas et super c\u00e6nosas vias; ... manumittat\nservos suos proprios, et redimat ab aliis hominibus servos suos ad\nlibertatem.--L Eccl. Edgari, 14.\n\n[45] Aidanus, Finan, Colmannus mir\u00e6 sanctitatis fuerunt et\nparsimoni\u00e6.... Adeo autem sacerdotes erant illius temporis ab avaritia\nimmunes, ut nec territoria nisi coacti acciperent.--Hen. Huntingd. Lib.\nIII. p. 333. Bed. Hist. Eccl. Lib. III c. 26.\n\n[46] Icolmkill, or Iona.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nSERIES OF ANGLO-SAXON KINGS FROM ETHELBERT TO ALFRED: WITH THE INVASION\nOF THE DANES.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 799]\n\nThe Christian religion, having once taken root in Kent, spread itself\nwith great rapidity throughout all the other Saxon kingdoms in England.\nThe manners of the Saxons underwent a notable alteration by this change\nin their religion: their ferocity was much abated; they became more mild\nand sociable; and their laws began to partake of the softness of their\nmanners, everywhere recommending mercy and a tenderness for Christian\nblood. There never was any people who embraced religion with a more\nfervent zeal than the Anglo-Saxons, nor with more simplicity of spirit.\nTheir history for a long time shows us a remarkable conflict between\ntheir dispositions and their principles. This conflict produced no\nmedium, because they were absolutely contrary, and both operated with\nalmost equal violence. Great crimes and extravagant penances, rapine and\nan entire resignation of worldly goods, rapes and vows of perpetual\nchastity, succeeded each other in the same persons. There was nothing\nwhich the violence of their passions could not induce them to commit;\nnothing to which they did not submit to atone for their offences, when\nreflection gave an opportunity to repent. But by degrees the sanctions\nof religion began to preponderate; and as the monks at this time\nattracted all the religious veneration, religion everywhere began to\nrelish of the cloister: an inactive spirit, and a spirit of scruples\nprevailed; they dreaded to put the greatest criminal to death; they\nscrupled to engage in any worldly functions. A king of the Saxons\ndreaded that God would call him to an account for the time which he\nspent in his temporal affairs and had stolen from prayer. It was\nfrequent for kings to go on pilgrimages to Rome or to Jerusalem, on\nfoot, and under circumstances of great hardship. Several kings resigned\ntheir crowns to devote themselves to religious contemplation in\nmonasteries,--more at that time and in this nation than in all other\nnations and in all times. This, as it introduced great mildness into the\ntempers of the people, made them less warlike, and consequently prepared\nthe way to their forming one body under Egbert, and for the other\nchanges which followed.\n\nThe kingdom of Wessex, by the wisdom and courage of King Ina, the\ngreatest legislator and politician of those times, had swallowed up\nCornwall, for a while a refuge for some of the old Britons, together\nwith the little kingdom of the South Saxons. By this augmentation it\nstretched from the Land's End to the borders of Kent, the Thames flowing\non the north, the ocean washing it on the south. By their situation the\npeople of Wessex naturally came to engross the little trade which then\nfed the revenues of England; and their minds were somewhat opened by a\nforeign communication, by which they became more civilized and better\nacquainted with the arts of war and of government. Such was the\ncondition of the kingdom of Wessex, when Egbert was called to the throne\nof his ancestors. The civil commotions which for some time prevailed had\ndriven this prince early in life into an useful banishment. He was\nhonorably received at the court of Charlemagne, where he had an\nopportunity of studying government in the best school, and of forming\nhimself after the most perfect model. Whilst Charlemagne was reducing\nthe continent of Europe into one empire, Egbert reduced England into one\nkingdom. The state of his own dominions, perfectly united under him,\nwith the other advantages which we have just mentioned, and the state of\nthe neighboring Saxon governments, made this reduction less difficult.\nBesides Wessex, there were but two kingdoms of consideration in\nEngland,--Mercia and Northumberland. They were powerful enough in the\nadvantages of Nature, but reduced to great weakness by their divisions.\nAs there is nothing of more moment to any country than to settle the\nsuccession of its government on clear and invariable principles, the\nSaxon monarchies, which were supported by no such principles, were\ncontinually tottering. The right of government sometimes was considered\nas in the eldest son, sometimes in all; sometimes the will of the\ndeceased prince disposed of the crown, sometimes a popular election\nbestowed it. The consequence of this was the frequent division and\nfrequent reunion of the same territory, which were productive of\ninfinite mischief; many various principles of succession gave titles to\nsome, pretensions to more; and plots, cabals, and crimes could not be\nwanting to all the pretenders. Thus was Mercia torn to pieces; and the\nkingdom of Northumberland, assaulted on one side by the Scots, and\nravaged on the other by the Danish incursions, could not recover from a\nlong anarchy into which its intestine divisions had plunged it. Egbert\nknew how to make advantage of these divisions: fomenting them by his\npolicy at first, and quelling them afterwards by his sword, he reduced\nthese two kingdoms under his government. The same power which conquered\nMercia and Northumberland made the reduction of Kent and Essex\neasy,--the people on all hands the more readily submitting, because\nthere was no change made in their laws, manners, or the form of their\ngovernment.\n\n[Sidenote: Egbert A.D. 827.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 832]\n\nEgbert, when he had brought all England under his dominion, made the\nWelsh tributary, and carried his arms with success into Scotland,\nassumed the title of Monarch of all Britain.[47] The southern part of\nthe island was now for the first time authentically known by the name of\nEngland, and by every appearance promised to have arrived at the\nfortunate moment for forming a permanent and splendid monarchy. But\nEgbert had not reigned seven years in peace, when the Danes, who had\nbefore showed themselves in some scattered parties, and made some\ninconsiderable descents, entered the kingdom in a formidable body. This\npeople came from the same place whence the English themselves were\nderived, and they differed from them in little else than that they still\nretained their original barbarity and heathenism. These, assisted by the\nNorwegians, and other people of Scandinavia, were the last torrent of\nthe Northern ravagers which overflowed Europe. What is remarkable, they\nattacked England and France when these two kingdoms were in the height\nof their grandeur,--France under Charlemagne, England united by Egbert.\nThe good fortune of Egbert met its first check from these people, who\ndefeated his forces with great slaughter near Charmouth in Dorsetshire.\nIt generally happens that a new nation, with a new method of making\nwar, succeeds against a people only exercised in arms by their own civil\ndissensions. Besides, England, newly united, was not without those\njealousies and that disaffection which give such great advantage to an\ninvader. But the vigilance and courage of Egbert repaired this defeat;\nhe repulsed the Danes; and died soon after at Winchester, full of years\nand glory.\n\n[Sidenote: Ethelwolf A.D. 838]\n\nHe left a great, but an endangered succession, to his son Ethelwolf, who\nwas a mild and virtuous prince, full of a timid piety, which utterly\ndisqualifies for government; and he began to govern at a time when the\ngreatest capacity was wanted. The Danes pour in upon every side; the\nking rouses from his lethargy; battles are fought with various success,\nwhich it were useless and tedious to recount. The event seems to have\nbeen, that in some corners of the kingdom the Danes gained a few\ninconsiderable settlements; the rest of the kingdom, after being\nterribly ravaged, was left a little time to recover, in order to be\nplundered anew. But the weak prince took no advantage of this time to\nconcert a regular plan of defence, or to rouse a proper spirit in his\npeople. Yielding himself wholly to speculative devotion, he entirely\nneglected his affairs, and, to complete the ruin of his kingdom,\nabandoned it, in such critical circumstances, to make a pilgrimage to\nRome. At Rome he behaved in the manner that suited his little genius, in\nmaking charitable foundations, and in extending the Rome-scot or\nPeter-pence, which the folly of some princes of the Heptarchy had\ngranted for their particular dominions, over the whole Kingdom. His\nshameful desertion of his country raised so general a discontent, that\nin his absence his own son, with the principal of his nobility and\nbishops, conspired against him. At his return, he found, however, that\nseveral still adhered to him; but here, too, incapable of acting with\nrigor, he agreed to an accommodation, which placed the crown on the head\nof his rebellious son, and only left to himself a sphere of government\nas narrow as his genius,--the district of Kent, whither he retired to\nenjoy an inglorious privacy with a wife whom he had married in France.\n\n[Sidenote: Ethelred, A.D. 866]\n\nOn his death, his son Ethelred still held the crown, which he had\npreoccupied by his rebellion, and which he polluted with a new stain. He\nmarried his father's widow. The confused history of these times\nfurnishes no clear account either of the successions of the kings or of\ntheir actions. During the reign of this prince and his successors\nEthelbert and Ethelred, the people in several parts of England seem to\nhave withdrawn from the kingdom of Wessex, and to have revived their\nformer independency. This, added to the weakness of the government, made\nway for new swarms of Danes, who burst in upon this ill-governed and\ndivided people, ravaging the whole country in a terrible manner, but\nprincipally directing their fury against every monument of civility or\npiety. They had now formed a regular establishment in Northumberland,\nand gained a very considerable footing in Mercia and East Anglia; they\nhovered over every part of the kingdom with their fleets; and being\nestablished in many places in the heart of the country, nothing seemed\nable to resist them.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[47] No Saxon monarch until Athelstan.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nREIGN OF KING ALFRED.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 871]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 875]\n\nIt was in the midst of these distractions that Alfred succeeded to a\nsceptre which, was threatened every moment to be wrenched from his\nhands. He was then only twenty-two years of age, but exercised from his\ninfancy in troubles and in wars that formed and displayed his virtue.\nSome of its best provinces were torn from his kingdom, which was shrunk\nto the ancient bounds of Wessex; and what remained was weakened by\ndissension, by a long war, by a raging pestilence, and surrounded by\nenemies whose numbers seemed inexhaustible, and whose fury was equally\nincreased by victories or defeats. All these difficulties served only to\nincrease the vigor of his mind. He took the field without delay; but he\nwas defeated with considerable loss. This ominous defeat displayed more\nfully the greatness of his courage and capacity, which found in\ndesperate hopes and a ruined kingdom such powerful resources. In a short\ntime after he was in a condition to be respected: but he was not led\naway by the ambition of a young warrior. He neglected no measures to\nprocure peace for his country, which wanted a respite from the\ncalamities which had long oppressed it. A peace was concluded for\nWessex. Then the Danes turned their faces once more towards Mercia and\nEast Anglia. They had before stripped the inhabitants of all their\nmovable substance, and now they proceeded without resistance to seize\nupon their lands. Their success encouraged new swarms of Danes to crowd\nover, who, finding all the northern parts of England possessed by their\nfriends, rushed into Wessex. They were adventurers under different and\nindependent leaders; and a peace little regarded by the particular party\nthat made it had no influence at all upon the others. Alfred opposed\nthis shock with so much firmness that the barbarians had recourse to a\nstratagem: they pretended to treat; but taking advantage of the truce,\nthey routed a body of the West Saxon cavalry that were off their guard,\nmounted their horses, and, crossing the country with amazing celerity,\nsurprised the city of Exeter. This was an acquisition of infinite\nadvantage to their affairs, as it secured them a port in the midst of\nWessex.\n\nAlfred, mortified at this series of misfortunes, perceived clearly that\nnothing could dislodge the Danes, or redress their continual incursions,\nbut a powerful fleet which might intercept them at sea. The want of\nthis, principally, gave rise to the success of that people. They used\nsuddenly to land and ravage a part of the country; when a force opposed\nthem, they retired to their ships, and passed to some other part, which\nin a like manner they ravaged, and then retired as before, until the\ncountry, entirely harassed, pillaged, and wasted by these incursions,\nwas no longer able to resist them. Then they ventured safely to enter a\ndesolated and disheartened country, and to establish themselves in it.\nThese considerations made Alfred resolve upon equipping a fleet. In this\nenterprise nothing but difficulties presented themselves: his revenue\nwas scanty, and his subjects altogether unskilled in maritime affairs,\neither as to the construction or the navigation of ships. He did not\ntherefore despair. With great promises attending a little money, he\nengaged in his service a number of Frisian seamen, neighbors to the\nDanes, and pirates, as they were. He brought, by the same means,\nshipwrights from the continent. He was himself present to everything;\nand having performed the part of a king in drawing together supplies of\nevery kind, he descended with no less dignity into the\nartist,--improving on the construction, inventing new machines, and\nsupplying by the greatness of his genius the defects and imperfections\nof the arts in that rude period. By his indefatigable application the\nfirst English navy was in a very short time in readiness to put to sea.\nAt that time the Danish fleet of one hundred and twenty-five ships stood\nwith full sail for Exeter; they met; but, with an omen prosperous to the\nnew naval power, the Danish fleet was entirely vanquished and dispersed.\nThis success drew on the surrendry of Exeter, and a peace, which Alfred\nmuch wanted to put the affairs of his kingdom in order.\n\nThis peace, however, did not last long. As the Danes were continually\npouring into some part of England, they found most parts already in\nDanish hands; so that all these parties naturally directed their course\nto the only English kingdom. All the Danes conspired to put them in\npossession of it, and bursting unexpectedly with the united force of\ntheir whole body upon Wessex, Alfred was entirely overwhelmed, and\nobliged to drive before the storm of his fortune. He fled in disguise\ninto a fastness in the Isle of Athelney, where he remained four months\nin the lowest state of indigence, supported by an heroic humility, and\nthat spirit of piety which neither adverse fortune nor prosperity could\novercome. It is much to be lamented that a character so formed to\ninterest all men, involved in reverses of fortune that make the most\nagreeable and useful part of history, should be only celebrated by pens\nso little suitable to the dignity of the subject. These revolutions are\nso little prepared, that we neither can perceive distinctly the causes\nwhich sunk him nor those which again raised him to power. A few naked\nfacts are all our stock. From these we see Alfred, assisted by the\ncasual success of one of his nobles, issuing from his retreat; he heads\na powerful army once more, defeats the Danes, drives them out of Wessex,\nfollows his blow, expels them from Mercia, subdues them in\nNorthumberland, and makes them tributary in Bast Anglia; and thus\nestablished by a number of victories in a full peace, he is presented to\nus in that character which makes him venerable to posterity. It is a\nrefreshment, in the midst of such a gloomy waste of barbarism and\ndesolation, to fall upon so fair and cultivated a spot.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 880.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 896.]\n\nWhen Alfred had once more reunited the kingdoms of his ancestors, he\nfound the whole face of things in the most desperate condition: there\nwas no observance of law and order; religion had no force; there was no\nhonest industry; the most squalid poverty and the grossest ignorance had\noverspread the whole kingdom. Alfred at once enterprised the cure of all\nthese evils. To remedy the disorders in the government, he revived,\nimproved, and digested all the Saxon institutions, insomuch that he is\ngenerally honored as the founder of our laws and Constitution.[48]\n\nThe shire he divided into hundreds, the hundreds into tithings; every\nfreeman was obliged to be entered into some tithing, the members of\nwhich were mutually bound for each other, for the preservation of the\npeace, and the avoiding theft and rapine. For securing the liberty of\nthe subject, he introduced the method of giving bail, the most certain\nfence against the abuses of power. It has been observed that the reigns\nof weak princes are times favorable to liberty; but the wisest and\nbravest of all the English princes is the father of their freedom. This\ngreat man was even jealous of the privileges of his subjects; and as his\nwhole life was spent in protecting them, his last will breathes the same\nspirit, declaring that he had left his people as free as their own\nthoughts. He not only collected with great care a complete body of laws,\nbut he wrote comments on them for the instruction of his judges, who\nwere in general, by the misfortune of the time, ignorant. And if he\ntook care to correct their ignorance, he was rigorous towards their\ncorruption. He inquired strictly into their conduct, he heard appeals in\nperson; he held his Wittenagemotes, or Parliaments, frequently; and kept\nevery part of his government in health and vigor.\n\nNor was he less solicitous for the defence than he had shown himself for\nthe regulation of his kingdom. He nourished with particular care the new\nnaval strength which he had established; he built forts and castles in\nthe most important posts; he settled beacons to spread an alarm on the\narrival of an enemy; and ordered his militia in such a manner that there\nwas always a great power in readiness to march, well appointed and well\ndisciplined. But that a suitable revenue might not be wanting for the\nsupport of his fleets and fortifications, he gave great encouragement to\ntrade, which, by the piracies on the coasts, and the rapine and\ninjustice exercised by the people within, had long become a stranger to\nthis island.\n\nIn the midst of these various and important cares, he gave a peculiar\nattention to learning, which by the rage of the late wars had been\nentirely extinguished in his kingdom. \"Very few there were\" (says this\nmonarch) \"on this side the Humber that understood their ordinary\nprayers, or that were able to translate any Latin book into English,--so\nfew, that I do not remember even one qualified to the southward of the\nThames when I began my reign.\" To cure this deplorable ignorance, he was\nindefatigable in his endeavors to bring into England men of learning in\nall branches from every part of Europe, and unbounded in his liberality\nto them. He enacted by a law that every person possessed of two hides\nof land should send their children to school until sixteen. Wisely\nconsidering where to put a stop to his love even of the liberal arts,\nwhich are only suited to a liberal condition, he enterprised yet a\ngreater design than that of forming the growing generation,--to instruct\neven the grown: enjoining all his earldormen and sheriffs immediately to\napply themselves to learning, or to quit their offices. To facilitate\nthese great purposes, he made a regular foundation of an university,\nwhich with great reason is believed to have been at Oxford. Whatever\ntrouble he took to extend the benefits of learning amongst his subjects,\nhe showed the example himself, and applied to the cultivation of his\nmind with unparalleled diligence and success. He could neither read nor\nwrite at twelve years old; but he improved his time in such a manner\nthat he became one of the most knowing men of his age, in geometry, in\nphilosophy, in architecture, and in music. He applied himself to the\nimprovement of his native language; he translated several valuable works\nfrom Latin; and wrote a vast number of poems in the Saxon tongue with a\nwonderful facility and happiness. He not only excelled in the theory of\nthe arts and sciences, but possessed a great mechanical genius for the\nexecutive part; he improved the manner of ship-building, introduced a\nmore beautiful and commodious architecture, and even taught his\ncountrymen the art of making bricks,--most of the buildings having been\nof wood before his time. In a word, he comprehended in the greatness of\nhis mind the whole of government and all its parts at once, and, what is\nmost difficult to human frailty, was at the same time sublime and\nminute.\n\nReligion, which in Alfred's father was so prejudicial to affairs,\nwithout being in him at all inferior in its zeal and fervor, was of a\nmore enlarged and noble kind; far from being a prejudice to his\ngovernment, it seems to have been the principle that supported him in so\nmany fatigues, and fed like an abundant source his civil and military\nvirtues. To his religious exercises and studies he devoted a full third\npart of his time. It is pleasant to trace a genius even in its smallest\nexertions,--in measuring and allotting his time for the variety of\nbusiness he was engaged in. According to his severe and methodical\ncustom, he had a sort of wax candles made of different colors in\ndifferent proportions, according to the time he allotted to each\nparticular affair; as he carried these about with him wherever he went,\nto make them burn evenly he invented horn lanterns. One cannot help\nbeing amazed that a prince, who lived in such turbulent times, who\ncommanded personally in fifty-four pitched battles, who had so\ndisordered a province to regulate, who was not only a legislator, but a\njudge, and who was continually superintending his armies, his navies,\nthe traffic of his kingdom, his revenues, and the conduct of all his\nofficers, could have bestowed so much of his time on religious exercises\nand speculative knowledge; but the exertion of all his faculties and\nvirtues seemed to have given a mutual strength to all of them. Thus all\nhistorians speak of this prince, whose whole history was one panegyric;\nand whatever dark spots of human frailty may have adhered to such a\ncharacter, they are entirely hid in the splendor of his many shining\nqualities and grand virtues, that throw a glory over the obscure period\nin which he lived, and which is for no other reason worthy of our\nknowledge.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 897.]\n\nThe latter part of his reign was molested with new and formidable\nattempts from the Danes: but they no longer found the country in its\nformer condition; their fleets were attacked; and those that landed\nfound a strong and regular opposition. There were now fortresses which\nrestrained their ravages, and armies well appointed to oppose them in\nthe field; they were defeated in a pitched battle; and after several\ndesperate marches from one part of the country to the other, everywhere\nharassed and hunted, they were glad to return with half their number,\nand to leave Alfred in quiet to accomplish the great things he had\nprojected. This prince reigned twenty-seven, years, and died at last of\na disorder in his bowels, which had afflicted him, without interrupting\nhis designs or souring his temper, during the greatest part of his life.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[48] Historians, copying after one another, and examining little, have\nattributed to this monarch the institution of juries, an institution\nwhich certainly did never prevail amongst the Saxons. They have likewise\nattributed to him the distribution of England into shires, hundreds, and\ntithings, and of appointing officers over these divisions. But it is\nvery obvious that the shires were never settled upon any regular plan,\nnor are they the result of any single design. But these reports, however\nill imagined, are a strong proof of the high veneration in which this\nexcellent prince has always been held; as it has been thought that the\nattributing these regulations to him would endear them to the nation. Be\nprobably settled them in such an order, and made such reformations in\nhis government, that some of the institutions themselves which he\nimproved have been attributed to him: and, indeed, there was one work of\nhis which serves to furnish us with a higher idea of the political\ncapacity of that great man than any of these fictions. He made a general\nsurvey and register of all the property in the kingdom, who held it, and\nwhat it was distinctly: a vast work for an age of ignorance and time of\nconfusion, which has been neglected in more civilized nations and\nsettled times. It was called the Roll of Winton, and served as a model\nof a work of the same kind made by William the Conqueror.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nSUCCESSION OF KINGS FROM ALFRED TO HAROLD.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Edward, A.D. 900.]\n\n[Sidenote: Athelstan A.D. 925.]\n\n[Sidenote: Edmund, A.D. 942.]\n\n[Sidenote: Edred, A.D. 947.]\n\n[Sidenote: Edwin, A.D. 957.]\n\nHis son Edward succeeded. Though of less learning than his father, he\nequalled him in his political virtues. He made war with success on the\nWelsh, the Scots, and the Danes, and left his kingdom strongly\nfortified, and exercised, not weakened, with the enterprises of a\nvigorous reign. Because his son Edmund was under age, the crown was set\non the head of his illegitimate offspring, Athelstan. His, like the\nreigns of all the princes of this time, was molested by the continual\nincursions of the Danes; and nothing but a succession of men of spirit,\ncapacity, and love of their country, which providentially happened at\nthis time, could ward off the ruin of the kingdom. Such Athelstan was;\nand such was his brother Edmund, who reigned five years with great\nreputation, but was at length, by an obscure ruffian, assassinated in\nhis own palace. Edred, his brother, succeeded to the late monarchy:\nthough he had left two sons, Edwin and Edgar, both were passed by on\naccount of their minority. But on this prince's death, which happened\nafter a troublesome reign of ten years, valiantly supported against\ncontinual inroads of the Danes; the crown devolved on Edwin; of whom\nlittle can be said, because his reign was short, and he was so embroiled\nwith his clergy that we can take his character only from the monks, who\nin such a case are suspicious authority.\n\n[Sidenote: Edgar, A.D. 959.]\n\nEdgar, the second son of King Edmund, came young to the throne; but he\nhad the happiness to have his youth formed and his kingdom ruled by men\nof experience, virtue, and authority. The celebrated Dunstan was his\nfirst minister, and had a mighty influence over all his actions. This\nprelate had been educated abroad, and had seen the world to advantage.\nAs he had great power at court by the superior wisdom of his counsels,\nso by the sanctity of his life he had great credit with the people,\nwhich gave a firmness to the government of his master, whose private\ncharacter was in many respects extremely exceptionable. It was in his\nreign, and chiefly by the means of his minister, Dunstan, that the\nmonks, who had long prevailed in the opinion of the generality of the\npeople, gave a total overthrow to their rivals, the secular clergy. The\nsecular clergy were at this time for the most part married, and were\ntherefore too near the common modes of mankind to draw a great deal of\ntheir respect; their character was supported by a very small portion of\nlearning, and their lives were not such as people wish to see in the\nclergy. But the monks were unmarried, austere in their lives, regular in\ntheir duties, possessed of the learning of the times, well united under\na proper subordination, full of art, and implacable towards their\nenemies. These circumstances, concurring with the dispositions of the\nking and the designs of Dunstan, prevailed so far that it was agreed in\na council convened for that purpose to expel the secular clergy from\ntheir livings, and to supply their places with monks, throughout the\nkingdom. Although the partisans of the secular priests were not a few,\nnor of the lowest class, yet they were unable to withstand the current\nof the popular desire, strengthened by the authority of a potent and\nrespected monarch. However, there was a seed of discontent sown on this\noccasion, which grew up afterwards to the mutual destruction of all the\nparties. During the whole reign of Edgar, as he had secured the most\npopular part of the clergy, and with them the people, in his interests,\nthere was no internal disturbance; there was no foreign war, because\nthis prince was always ready for war. But he principally owed his\nsecurity to the care he took of his naval power, which was much greater\nand better regulated than that of any English monarch before him. He had\nthree fleets always equipped, one of which annually sailed round the\nisland. Thus the Danes, the Scots, the Irish, and the Welsh were kept\nin awe. He assumed the title of King of all Albion. His court was\nmagnificent, and much frequented by strangers. His revenues were in\nexcellent order, and no prince of his time supported the royal character\nwith more dignity.\n\n[Sidenote: Edward, A.D. 975.]\n\n[Sidenote: Ethelred, A.D. 979.]\n\nEdgar had two wives, Elfleda and Elfrida. By the first he had a son\ncalled Edward; the second bore him one called Ethelred. On Edgar's\ndeath, Edward, in the usual order of succession, was called to the\nthrone; but Elfrida caballed in favor of her son, and finding it\nimpossible to set him up in the life of his brother, she murdered him\nwith her own hands in her castle of Corfe, whither he had retired to\nrefresh himself, wearied with hunting. Ethelred, who by the crimes of\nhis mother ascended a throne sprinkled with his brother's blood, had a\npart to act which exceeded the capacity that could be expected in one of\nhis youth and inexperience. The partisans of the secular clergy, who\nwere kept down by the vigor of Edgar's government, thought this a fit\ntime to renew their pretensions. The monks defended themselves in their\npossession; there was no moderation on either side, and the whole nation\njoined in these parties. The murder of Edward threw an odious stain on\nthe king, though he was wholly innocent of that crime. There was a\ngeneral discontent, and every corner was full of murmurs and cabals. In\nthis state of the kingdom, it was equally dangerous to exert the fulness\nof the sovereign authority or to suffer it to relax. The temper of the\nking was most inclined to the latter method, which is of all things the\nworst. A weak government, too easy, suffers evils to grow which often\nmake the most rigorous and illegal proceedings necessary. Through an\nextreme lenity it is on some occasions tyrannical. This was the\ncondition of Ethelred's nobility, who, by being permitted everything,\nwere never contented.\n\nThus all the principal men held a sort of factious and independent\nauthority; they despised the king, they oppressed the people, and they\nhated one another. The Danes, in every part of England but Wessex as\nnumerous as the English themselves, and in many parts more numerous,\nwere ready to take advantage of these disorders, and waited with\nimpatience some new attempt from abroad, that they might rise in favor\nof the invaders. They were not long without such an occasion; the Danes\npour in almost upon every part at once, and distract the defence which\nthe weak prince was preparing to make.\n\nIn those days of wretchedness and ignorance, when all the maritime parts\nof Europe were attacked by these formidable enemies at once, they never\nthought of entering into any alliance against them; they equally\nneglected the other obvious method to prevent their incursions, which\nwas, to carry the war into the invaders' country.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 987.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 991.]\n\nWhat aggravated these calamities, the nobility, mostly disaffected to\nthe king, and entertaining very little regard to their country, made,\nsome of them, a weak and cowardly opposition to the enemy; some actually\nbetrayed their trust; some even were found who undertook the trade of\npiracy themselves. It was in this condition, that Edric, Duke of Mercia,\na man of some ability, but light, inconstant, and utterly devoid of all\nprinciple, proposed to buy a peace from the Danes. The general weakness\nand consternation disposed the king and people to take this pernicious\nadvice. At first 10,000_l._ was given to the Danes, who retired with\nthis money and the rest of their plunder. The English were now, for the\nfirst time, taxed to supply this payment. The imposition was called\nDanegelt, not more burdensome in the thing than scandalous in the name.\nThe scheme of purchasing peace not only gave rise to many internal\nhardships, but, whilst it weakened the kingdom, it inspired such a\ndesire of invading it to the enemy, that Sweyn, King of Denmark, came in\nperson soon after with a prodigious fleet and army. The English, having\nonce found the method of diverting the storm by an inglorious bargain,\ncould not bear to think of any other way of resistance. A greater sum,\n48,000_l._, was now paid, which the Danes accepted with pleasure, as\nthey could by this means exhaust their enemies and enrich themselves\nwith little danger or trouble. With very short intermissions they still\nreturned, continually increasing in their demands. In a few years they\nextorted upwards of 160,000_l._ from the English, besides an annual\ntribute of 48,000_l._ The country was wholly exhausted both of money and\nspirit. The Danes in England, under the protection of the foreign Danes,\ncommitted a thousand insolencies; and so infatuated with stupidity and\nbaseness were the English at this time, that they employed hardly any\nother soldiers for their defence.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1002]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1003]\n\nIn this state of shame and misery, their sufferings suggested to them a\ndesign rather desperate than brave. They resolved on a massacre of the\nDanes. Some authors say, that in one night the whole race was cut off.\nMany, probably all the military men, were so destroyed. But this\nmassacre, injudicious as it was cruel, was certainly not universal; nor\ndid it serve any other or better end than to exasperate those of the\nsame nation abroad, who the next year landed in England with a powerful\narmy to revenge it, and committed outrages even beyond the usual tenor\nof the Danish cruelty. There was in England no money left to purchase a\npeace, nor courage to wage a successful war; and the King of Denmark,\nSweyn, a prince of capacity, at the head of a large body of brave and\nenterprising men, soon mastered the whole kingdom, except London.\nEthelred, abandoned by fortune and his subjects, was forced to fly into\nNormandy.\n\n[Sidenote: Edmund Ironside, A.D. 1016.]\n\nAs there was no good order in the English affairs, though continually\nalarmed, they were always surprised; they were only roused to arms by\nthe cruelty of the enemy, and they were only formed into a body by being\ndriven from their homes: so that they never made a resistance until they\nseemed to be entirely conquered. This may serve to account for the\nfrequent sudden reductions of the island, and the frequent renewals of\ntheir fortune when it seemed the most desperate. Sweyn, in the midst of\nhis victories, dies, and, though succeeded by his son Canute, who\ninherited his father's resolution, their affairs were thrown into some\ndisorder by this accident. The English were encouraged by it. Ethelred\nwas recalled, and the Danes retired out of the kingdom; but it was only\nto return the nest year with a greater and better appointed force.\nNothing seemed able to oppose them. The king dies. A great part of the\nland was surrendered, without resistance, to Canute. Edmund, the eldest\nson of Ethelred, supported, however, the declining hopes of the English\nfor some time; in three months he fought three victorious battles; he\nattempted a fourth, but lost it by the base desertion of Edric, the\nprincipal author of all these troubles. It is common with the conquered\nside to attribute all their misfortunes to the treachery of their own\nparty. They choose to be thought subdued by the treachery of their\nfriends rather than the superior bravery of their enemies. All the old\nhistorians talk in this strain; and it must be acknowledged that all\nadherents to a declining party have many temptations to infidelity.\n\nEdmund, defeated, but not discouraged, retreated to the Severn, where he\nrecruited his forces. Canute followed at his heels. And now the two\narmies were drawn up which were to decide the fate of England, when it\nwas proposed to determine the war by a single combat between the two\nkings. Neither was unwilling; the Isle of Alney in the Severn was chosen\nfor the lists. Edmund had the advantage by the greatness of his\nstrength, Canute by his address; for when Edmund had so far prevailed as\nto disarm him, he proposed a parley, in which he persuaded Edmund to a\npeace, and to a division of the kingdom. Their armies accepted the\nagreement, and both kings departed in a seeming friendship. But Edmund\ndied soon after, with a probable suspicion of being murdered by the\ninstruments of his associate in the empire.\n\n[Sidenote: The Danish race.\n\nCanute.]\n\n[Sidenote: Harold I., A.D. 1035.]\n\n[Sidenote: Hardicanute, A.D. 1035]\n\n[Sidenote: The Saxon line restored.]\n\nCanute, on this event, assembled the states of the kingdom, by whom he\nwas acknowledged King of all England. He was a prince truly great; for,\nhaving acquired the kingdom by his valor, he maintained and improved it\nby his justice and clemency. Choosing rather to rule by the inclination\nof his subjects than the right of conquest, he dismissed his Danish\narmy, and committed his safety to the laws. He re\u00ebstablished the order\nand tranquillity which so long a series of bloody wars had banished. He\nrevived the ancient statutes of the Saxon princes, and governed through\nhis whole reign with such steadiness and moderation that the English\nwere much happier under this foreign prince than they had been under\ntheir natural kings. Canute, though the beginning of his life was\nstained with those marks of violence and injustice which attend\nconquest, was remarkable in his latter end for his piety. According to\nthe mode of that time, he made a pilgrimage to Rome, with a view to\nexpiate the crimes which paved his way to the throne; but he made a good\nuse of this peregrination, and returned full of the observations he had\nmade in the country through which he passed, which he turned to the\nbenefit of his extensive dominions. They comprehended England, Denmark,\nNorway, and many of the countries which lie upon the Baltic. Those he\nleft, established in peace and security, to his children. The fate of\nhis Northern possessions is not of this place. England fell to his son\nHarold, though not without much competition in favor of the sons of\nEdmund Ironside, while some contended for the right of the sons of\nEthelred, Alfred and Edward. Harold inherited none of the virtues of\nCanute; he banished his mother Emma, murdered his half-brother Alfred,\nand died without issue after a short reign, full of violence, weakness,\nand cruelty. His brother Hardicanute, who succeeded him, resembled him\nin his character; he committed new cruelties and injustices in revenging\nthose which his brother had committed, and he died after a yet shorter\nreign. The Danish power, established with so much blood, expired of\nitself; and Edward, the only surviving son of Ethelred, then an exile in\nNormandy, was called to the throne by the unanimous voice of the\nkingdom.\n\n[Sidenote: Edward the Confessor, A.D. 1041.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1053]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1066.]\n\nThis prince was educated in a monastery, where he learned piety,\ncontinence, and humility, but nothing of the art of government. He was\ninnocent and artless, but his views were narrow, and his genius\ncontemptible. The character of such a prince is not, therefore, what\ninfluences the government, any further than as it puts it in the hands\nof others. When he came to the throne, Godwin, Earl of Kent, was the\nmost popular man in England; he possessed a very great estate, an\nenterprising disposition, and an eloquence beyond the age he lived in;\nhe was arrogant, imperious, assuming, and of a conscience which never\nput itself in the way of his interest. He had a considerable share in\nrestoring Edward to the throne of his ancestors; and by this merit,\njoined to his popularity, he for some time directed everything according\nto his pleasure. He intended to fortify his interest by giving in\nmarriage to the king his daughter, a lady of great beauty, great virtue,\nand an education beyond her sex. Godwin had, however, powerful rivals in\nthe king's favor. This monarch, who possessed many of the private\nvirtues, had a grateful remembrance of his favorable reception in\nNormandy; he caressed the people of that country, and promoted several\nto the first places, ecclesiastical and civil, in his kingdom. This\nbegot an uneasiness in all the English; but Earl Godwin was\nparticularly offended. The Normans, on the other hand, accused Godwin of\na design on the crown, the justice of which imputation the whole tenor\nof his conduct evinced sufficiently. But as his cabals began to break\ninto action before they were in perfect ripeness for it, the Norman\nparty prevailed, and Godwin was banished. This man was not only very\npopular at home by his generosity and address, but he found means to\nengage even, foreigners in his interests. Baldwin, Earl of Flanders,\ngave him a very kind reception. By his assistance Godwin fitted out a\nfleet, hired a competent force, sailed to England, and having near\nSandwich deceived the king's navy, he presented himself at London before\nhe was expected. The king made ready as great a force as the time would\nadmit to oppose him. The galleys of Edward and Godwin met on the Thames;\nbut such was the general favor to Godwin, such the popularity of his\ncause, that the king's men threw down their arms, and refused to fight\nagainst their countrymen in favor of strangers. Edward was obliged to\ntreat with his own subjects, and in consequence of this treaty to\ndismiss the Normans, whom he believed to be the best attached to his\ninterests. Godwin used the power to which he was restored to gratify his\npersonal revenge, showing no mercy to his enemies. Some of his sons\nbehaved in the most tyrannical manner. The great lords of the kingdom\nenvied and hated a greatness which annihilated the royal authority,\neclipsed them, and oppressed the people; but Godwin's death soon after\nquieted for a while their murmurs. The king, who had the least share in\nthe transactions of his own reign, and who was of a temper not to\nperceive his own insignificance, begun in his old age to think of a\nsuccessor. He had no children: for some weak reasons of religion or\npersonal dislike, he had never cohabited with his wife. He sent for his\nnephew Edward, the son of Edmund Ironside, out of Hungary, where he had\ntaken refuge; but he died soon after he came to England, leaving a son\ncalled Edgar Atheling. The king himself irresolute in so momentous an\naffair, died without making any settlement. His reign was properly that\nof his great men, or rather of their factions. All of it that was his\nown was good. He was careful of the privileges of his subjects, and took\ncare to have a body of the Saxon laws, very favorable to them, digested\nand enforced. He remitted the heavy imposition called Danegelt,\namounting to 40,000_l._ a year, which had been constantly collected\nafter the occasion had ceased; he even repaid to his subjects what he\nfound in the treasury at his accession. In short, there is little in his\nlife that can call his title to sanctity in question, though he can\nnever be reckoned among the great kings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nHAROLD II.--INVASION OF THE NORMANS.--ACCOUNT OF THAT PEOPLE, AND OF THE\nSTATE OF ENGLAND AT THE TIME OF THE INVASION.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Harold II., A.D. 1066.]\n\nThough Edgar Atheling had the best title to the succession, yet Harold,\nthe son of Earl Godwin, on account of the credit of his father, and his\nown great qualities, which supported and extended the interest of his\nfamily, was by the general voice set upon the throne. The right of\nEdgar, young, and discovering no great capacity, gave him little\ndisturbance in comparison of the violence of his own brother Tosti, whom\nfor his infamous oppression he had found himself obliged to banish. This\nman, who was a tyrant at home and a traitor abroad, insulted the\nmaritime parts with a piratical fleet, whilst he incited all the\nneighboring princes to fall upon his country. Harold Harfager, King of\nNorway, after the conquest of the Orkneys, with a powerful navy hung\nover the coasts of England. But nothing troubled Harold so much as the\npretensions and the formidable preparation of William, Duke of Normandy,\none of the most able, ambitious, and enterprising men of that age. We\nhave mentioned the partiality of King Edward to the Normans, and the\nhatred he bore to Godwin, and his family. The Duke of Normandy, to whom\nEdward had personal obligations, had taken a tour into England, and\nneglected no means to improve these dispositions to his own advantage.\nIt is said that he then received the fullest assurances of being\nappointed to the succession, and that Harold himself had been sent soon\nafter into Normandy to settle whatever related to it. This is an obscure\ntransaction, and would, if it could be cleared up, convey but little\ninstruction. So that whether we believe or not that William had engaged\nHarold by a solemn oath to secure him the kingdom, we know that he\nafterwards set up a will of King Edward in his favor, which, however, he\nnever produced, and probably never had to produce. In these delicate\ncircumstances Harold was not wanting to himself. By the most equitable\nlaws and the most popular behavior he sought to secure the affections of\nhis subjects; and he succeeded so well, that, when he marched against\nthe King of Norway, who had invaded his kingdom and taken York, without\ndifficulty he raised a numerous army of gallant men, zealous for his\ncause and their country. He obtained a signal and decisive victory over\nthe Norwegians. The King Harfager, and the traitor Tosti, who had joined\nhim, were slain in the battle, and the Norwegians were forced to\nevacuate the country. Harold had, however, but little time to enjoy the\nfruits of his victory.\n\nScarce had the Norwegians departed, when William, Duke of Normandy,\nlanded in the southern part of the kingdom with an army of sixty\nthousand chosen men, and struck a general terror through all the nation,\nwhich was well acquainted with the character of the commander and the\ncourage and discipline of his troops.\n\nThe Normans were the posterity of those Danes who had so long and so\ncruelly harassed the British islands and the shore of the adjoining\ncontinent. In, the days of King Alfred, a body of these adventurers,\nunder their leader, Rollo, made an attempt upon England; but so well did\nthey find every spot defended by the vigilance and bravery of that great\nmonarch that they were compelled to retire. Beaten from these shores,\nthe stream of their impetuosity bore towards the northern parts of\nFrance, which had been reduced to the most deplorable condition by their\nformer ravages. Charles the Simple then sat on the throne of that\nkingdom; unable to resist this torrent of barbarians, he was obliged to\nyield to it; he agreed to give up to Rollo the large and fertile\nprovince of Neustria, to hold of him as his feudatory. This province,\nfrom the new inhabitants, was called Normandy. Five princes succeeded\nRollo, who maintained with great bravery and cultivated with equal\nwisdom his conquests. The ancient ferocity of this people was a little\nsoftened by their settlement; but the bravery which, had made the Danes\nso formidable was not extinguished in the Normans, nor the spirit of\nenterprise. Not long before this period, a private gentleman of\nNormandy, by his personal bravery, had acquired the kingdom of Naples.\nSeveral others followed his fortunes, who added Sicily to it. From one\nend of Europe to the other the Norman name was known, respected, and\nfeared. Robert, the sixth Duke of Normandy, to expiate some crime which\nlay heavy upon his conscience, resolved, according to the ideas of that\ntime, upon a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It was in vain that his nobility,\nwhom he had assembled to notify this resolution to them, represented to\nhim the miserable state to which his country would be reduced, abandoned\nby its prince, and uncertain of a legal successor. The Duke was not to\nbe moved from his resolution, which appeared but the more meritorious\nfrom the difficulties which attended it. He presented to the states\nWilliam, then an infant, born of an obscure woman, whom,\nnotwithstanding, he doubted not to be his son; him he appointed to\nsucceed; him he recommended to their virtue and loyalty; and then,\nsolemnly resigning the government in his favor, he departed on the\npilgrimage, from whence he never returned. The states, hesitating some\ntime between, the mischiefs that attend the allowing an illegitimate\nsuccession, and those which might arise from admitting foreign\npretensions, thought the former the least prejudicial, and accordingly\nswore allegiance to William. But this oath was not sufficient to\nestablish a right so doubtful. The Dukes of Burgundy and Brittany, as\nwell as several Norman noblemen, had specious titles. The endeavors of\nall these disquieted the reign of the young prince with perpetual\ntroubles. In these troubles he was formed early in life to vigilance,\nactivity, secrecy, and a conquest over all those passions, whether bad\nor good, which obstruct the way to greatness. He had to contend with all\nthe neighboring princes, with the seditions of a turbulent and\nunfaithful nobility, and the treacherous protection of his feudal lord,\nthe King of France. All of these in their turns, sometimes all of these\ntogether, distressed him. But with the most unparalleled good fortune\nand conduct he overcame all opposition, and triumphed over every enemy,\nraising his power and reputation above that of all his ancestors, as\nmuch as he was exalted by his bravery above the princes of his own time.\n\nSuch was the prince who, on a pretended claim from the will of King\nEdward, supported by the common and popular pretence of punishing\noffenders and redressing grievances, landed at Pevensey in Sussex, to\ncontest the crown with Harold. Harold had no sooner advice of his\nlanding than he advanced to meet him with all possible diligence; but\nthere did not appear in his army, upon this occasion, the same unanimity\nand satisfaction which animated it on its march against the Norwegians.\nAn ill-timed economy in Harold, which made him refuse to his soldiers\nthe plunder of the Norwegian camp, had created a general discontent.\nSeveral deserted; and the soldiers who remained followed heavily a\nleader under whom there was no hope of plunder, the greatest incitement\nof the soldiery. Notwithstanding this ill disposition, Harold still\nurged forward, and by forced marches advanced within seven miles of the\nenemy. The Norman, on his landing, is said to have sent away his ships,\nthat his army might have no way of safety but in conquest; yet had he\nfortified his camp, and taken every prudent precaution, that so\nconsiderable an enterprise should not be reduced to a single effort of\ndespair. When the armies, charged with the decision of so mighty a\ncontest, had approached each other, Harold paused awhile. A great deal\ndepended on his conduct at this critical time. The most experienced in\nthe council of war, who knew the condition of their troops, were of\nopinion that the engagement ought to be deferred,--that the country\nought to be wasted,--that, as the winter approached, the Normans would\nin all probability be obliged to retire of themselves,--that, if this\nshould not happen, the Norman army was without resources, whilst the\nEnglish would be every day considerably augmented, and might attack\ntheir enemy at a time and manner which might make their success certain.\nTo all these reasons nothing was opposed but a false point of honor and\na mistaken courage in Harold, who urged his fate, and resolved on an\nengagement. The Norman, as soon as he perceived that the English, were\ndetermined on a battle, left his camp to post himself in an advantageous\nsituation, in which his whole army remained the night which preceded the\naction.\n\nThis night was spent in a manner which prognosticated the event of the\nfollowing day. On the part of the Normans it was spent in prayer, and\nin a cool and steady preparation for the engagement; on the side of the\nEnglish, in riot and a vain confidence that neglected all the necessary\npreparations. The two armies met in the morning; from seven to five the\nbattle was fought with equal vigor, until at last the Norman army\npretending to break in confusion, a stratagem to which they had been\nregularly formed, the English, elated with success, suffered that firm\norder in which their security consisted to dissipate, which when William\nobserved, he gave the signal to his men to regain their former\ndisposition, and fall upon the English, broken and dispersed. Harold in\nthis emergency did everything which became him, everything possible to\ncollect his troops and to renew the engagement; but whilst he flew from\nplace to place, and in all places restored the battle, an arrow pierced\nhis brain, and he died a king, in a manner worthy of a warrior. The\nEnglish immediately fled; the rout was total, and the slaughter\nprodigious.\n\nThe consternation which this defeat and the death of Harold produced\nover the kingdom was more fatal than the defeat itself. If William had\nmarched directly to London, all contest had probably been at an end; but\nhe judged it more prudent to secure the sea-coast, to make way for\nreinforcements, distrusting his fortune in his success more than he had\ndone in his first attempts. He marched to Dover, where the effect of his\nvictory was such that the strong castle there surrendered without\nresistance. Had this fortress made any tolerable defence, the English\nwould have had leisure to rouse from their consternation, and plan some\nrational method for continuing the war; but now the conqueror was on\nfull march to London, whilst the English were debating concerning the\nmeasures they should take, and doubtful in what manner they should fill\nthe vacant throne. However, in this emergency it was necessary to take\nsome resolution. The party of Edgar Atheling prevailed, and he was owned\nking by the city of London, which even at this time was exceedingly\npowerful, and by the greatest part of the nobility then present. But his\nreign was of a short duration. William advanced by hasty marches, and,\nas he approached, the perplexity of the English redoubled: they had done\nnothing for the defence of the city; they had no reliance on their new\nking; they suspected one another; there was no authority, no order, no\ncounsel; a confused and ill-sorted assembly of unwarlike people, of\npriests, burghers, and nobles confounded with them in the general panic,\nstruck down by the consternation of the late defeat, and trembling under\nthe bolts of the Papal excommunication, were unable to plan any method\nof defence: insomuch that, when he had passed the Thames and drew near\nto London, the clergy, the citizens, and the greater part of the nobles,\nwho had so lately set the crown on the head of Edgar, went out to meet\nhim; they submitted to him, and having brought him in triumph to\nWestminster, he was there solemnly crowned King of England. The whole\nnation followed the example of London; and one battle gave England to\nthe Normans, which had cost the Romans, the Saxons, and Danes so much\ntime and blood to acquire.\n\nAt first view it is very difficult to conceive how this could have\nhappened to a powerful nation, in which it does not appear that the\nconqueror had one partisan. It stands a single event in history, unless,\nperhaps, we may compare it with the reduction of Ireland, some time\nafter, by Henry the Second. An attentive consideration of the state of\nthe kingdom at that critical time may, perhaps, in some measure, lay\nopen to us the cause of this extraordinary revolution. The nobility of\nEngland, in which its strength consisted, was much decayed. Wars and\nconfiscations, but above all the custom of gavelkind, had reduced that\nbody very low. At the same time some few families had been, raised to a\ndegree of power unknown in the ancient Saxon times, and dangerous in\nall. Large possessions, and a larger authority, were annexed to the\noffices of the Saxon magistrates, whom they called Aldermen. This\nauthority, in their long and bloody wars with the Danes, it was found\nnecessary to increase, and often to increase beyond the ancient limits.\nAldermen were created for life; they were then frequently made\nhereditary; some were vested with a power over others; and at this\nperiod we begin to hear of dukes who governed over several shires, and\nhad many aldermen subject to them. These officers found means to turn\nthe royal bounty into an instrument of becoming independent of its\nauthority. Too great to obey, and too little to protect, they were a\ndead weight upon the country. They began to cast an eye on the crown,\nand distracted the nation by cabals to compass their designs. At the\nsame time they nourished the most terrible feuds amongst themselves. The\nfeeble government of Edward established these abuses. He could find no\nmethod of humbling one subject grown too great, but by aggrandizing in\nthe same excessive degree some others. Thus, he endeavored to balance\nthe power of Earl Godwin by exalting Leofric, Duke of Mercia, and\nSiward, Duke of Northumberland, to an extravagant greatness. The\nconsequence was this: he did not humble Godwin, but raised him potent\nrivals. When, therefore, this prince died, the lawful successor to the\ncrown, who had nothing but right in his favor, was totally eclipsed by\nthe splendor of the great men who had adorned themselves with the spoils\nof royalty. The throne was now the prize of faction; and Harold, the son\nof Godwin, having the strongest faction, carried it. By this success the\nopposite parties were inflamed with a new occasion of rancor and\nanimosity, and an incurable discontent was raised in the minds of Edwin\nand Morcar, the sons of Duke Leofric, who inherited their father's power\nand popularity: but this animosity operated nothing in favor of the\nlegitimate heir, though it weakened the hands of the governing prince.\n\nThe death of Harold was far from putting an end to these evils; it\nrather unfolded more at large the fatal consequences of the ill measures\nwhich had been pursued. Edwin and Morcar set on foot once more their\npractices to obtain the crown; and when they found themselves baffled,\nthey retired in discontent from the councils of the nation, withdrawing\nthereby a very large part of its strength and authority. The council of\nthe nation, which was formed of the clashing factions of a few great\nmen, (for the rest were nothing,) divided, disheartened, weakened,\nwithout head, without direction, dismayed by a terrible defeat,\nsubmitted, because they saw no other course, to a conqueror whose valor\nthey had experienced, and who had hitherto behaved with great\nappearances of equity and moderation. As for the grandees, they were\ncontented rather to submit to this foreign prince than to those whom\nthey regarded as their equals and enemies.\n\nWith these causes other strong ones concurred. For near two centuries\nthe continual and bloody wars with the Danes had exhausted the nation;\nthe peace, which for a long time they were obliged to buy dearly,\nexhausted it yet more; and it had not sufficient leisure nor sufficient\nmeans of acquiring wealth to yield at this time any extraordinary\nresources. The new people, which after so long a struggle had mixed with\nthe English, had not yet so thoroughly incorporated with the ancient\ninhabitants that a perfect union might be expected between them, or that\nany strong, uniform, national effort might have resulted from it.\nBesides, the people of England were the most backward in Europe in all\nimprovements, whether in military or in civil life. Their towns were\nmeanly built, and more meanly fortified; there was scarcely anything\nthat deserved the name of a strong place in the kingdom; there was no\nfortress which, by retarding the progress of a conqueror, might give the\npeople an opportunity of recalling their spirits and collecting their\nstrength. To these we may add, that the Pope's approbation of William's\npretensions gave them great weight, especially amongst the clergy, and\nthat this disposed and reconciled to submission a people whom the\ncircumstances we have mentioned had before driven to it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nOF THE LAWS AND INSTITUTIONS OF THE SAXONS.\n\n\nBefore we begin to consider the laws and constitutions of the Saxons,\nlet us take a view of the state of the country from whence they are\nderived, as it is portrayed in ancient writers. This view will be the\nbest comment on their institutions. Let us represent to ourselves a\npeople without learning, without arts, without industry, solely pleased\nand occupied with war, neglecting agriculture, abhorring cities, and\nseeking their livelihood only from pasturage and hunting through a\nboundless range of morasses and forests. Such a people must necessarily\nbe united to each other by very feeble bonds; their ideas of government\nwill necessarily be imperfect, their freedom and their love of freedom\ngreat. From these dispositions it must happen, of course, that the\nintention of investing one person or a few with the whole powers of\ngovernment, and the notion of deputed authority or representation, are\nideas that never could have entered their imaginations. When, therefore,\namongst such a people any resolution of consequence was to be taken,\nthere was no way of effecting it but by bringing together the whole body\nof the nation, that every individual might consent to the law, and each\nreciprocally bind the other to the observation of it. This polity, if so\nit may be called, subsists still in all its simplicity in Poland.\n\nBut as in such a society as we have mentioned the people cannot be\nclassed according to any political regulations, great talents have a\nmore ample sphere in which to exert themselves than in a close and\nbetter formed society. These talents must therefore have attracted a\ngreat share of the public veneration, and drawn a numerous train after\nthe person distinguished by them, of those who sought his protection, or\nfeared his power, or admired his qualifications, or wished to form\nthemselves after his example, or, in fine, of whoever desired to partake\nof his importance by being mentioned along with him. These the ancient\nGauls, who nearly resembled the Germans in their customs, called\nAmbacti; the Romans called them Comites. Over these their chief had a\nconsiderable power, and the more considerable because it depended upon\ninfluence rather than institution: influence among so free a people\nbeing the principal source of power. But this authority, great as it\nwas, never could by its very nature be stretched to despotism; because\nany despotic act would have shocked the only principle by which that\nauthority was supported, the general good opinion. On the other hand, it\ncould not have been bounded by any positive laws, because laws can\nhardly subsist amongst a people who have not the use of letters. It was\na species of arbitrary power, softened by the popularity from whence it\narose. It came from popular opinion, and by popular opinion it was\ncorrected.\n\nIf people so barbarous as the Germans have no laws, they have yet\ncustoms that serve in their room; and these customs operate amongst them\nbetter than laws, because they become a sort of Nature both to the\ngovernors and the governed. This circumstance in some measure removed\nall fear of the abuse of authority, and induced the Germans to permit\ntheir chiefs[49] to decide upon matters of lesser moment, their private\ndifferences,--for so Tacitus explains the _minores res_. These chiefs\nwere a sort of judges, but not legislators; nor do they appear to have\nhad a share in the superior branches of the executive part of\ngovernment,--the business of peace and war, and everything of a public\nnature, being determined, as we have before remarked, by the whole body\nof the people, according to a maxim general among the Germans, that what\nconcerned all ought to be handled by all. Thus were delineated the faint\nand incorrect outlines of our Constitution, which has since been so\nnobly fashioned and so highly finished. This fine system, says\nMontesquieu, was invented in the woods; but whilst it remained in the\nwoods, and for a long time after, it was far from being a fine one,--no\nmore, indeed, than a very imperfect attempt at government, a system for\na rude and barbarous people, calculated to maintain them in their\nbarbarity.\n\nThe ancient state of the Germans was military: so that the orders into\nwhich they were distributed, their subordination, their courts, and\nevery part of their government, must be deduced from an attention to a\nmilitary principle.\n\nThe ancient German people, as all the other Northern tribes, consisted\nof freemen and slaves: the freemen professed arms, the slaves cultivated\nthe ground. But men were not allowed to profess arms at their own will,\nnor until they were admitted to that dignity by an established order,\nwhich at a certain age separated the boys from men. For when a young man\napproached to virility,[50] he was not yet admitted as a member of the\nstate, which was quite military, until he had been invested with a\nspear in the public assembly of his tribe; and then he was adjudged\nproper to carry arms, and also to assist in the public deliberations,\nwhich were always held armed.[51] This spear he generally received from\nthe hand of some old and respected chief, under whom he commonly entered\nhimself, and was admitted among his followers.[52] No man could stand\nout as an independent individual, but must have enlisted in one of these\nmilitary fraternities; and as soon as he had so enlisted, immediately he\nbecame bound to his leader in the strictest dependence, which was\nconfirmed by an oath,[53] and to his brethren in a common vow for their\nmutual support in all dangers, and for the advancement and the honor of\ntheir common chief. This chief was styled Senior, Lord, and the like\nterms, which marked out a superiority in age and merit; the followers\nwere called Ambacti, Comites, Leudes, Vassals, and other terms, marking\nsubmission and dependence. This was the very first origin of civil, or\nrather, military government, amongst the ancient people of Europe; and\nit arose from the connection that necessarily was created between the\nperson who gave the arms, or knighted the young man, and him that\nreceived them; which implied that they were to be occupied in his\nservice who originally gave them. These principles it is necessary\nstrictly to attend to, because they will serve much to explain the whole\ncourse both of government and real property, wherever the German\nnations obtained a settlement: the whole of their government depending\nfor the most part upon two principles in our nature,--ambition, that\nmakes one man desirous, at any hazard or expense, of taking the lead\namongst others,--and admiration, which makes others equally desirous of\nfollowing him, from the mere pleasure of admiration, and a sort of\nsecondary ambition, one of the most universal passions among men. These\ntwo principles, strong, both of them, in our nature, create a voluntary\ninequality and dependence. But amongst equals in condition there could\nbe no such bond, and this was supplied by confederacy; and as the first\nof these principles created the senior and the knight, the second\nproduced the _conjurati fratres_, which, sometimes as a more extensive,\nsometimes as a stricter bond, are perpetually mentioned in the old laws\nand histories.\n\nThe relation between the lord and the vassal produced another\neffect,--that the leader was obliged to find sustenance for his\nfollowers, and to maintain them at his table, or give them some\nequivalent in order to their maintenance. It is plain from these\nprinciples, that this service on one hand, and this obligation to\nsupport on the other, could not have originally been hereditary, but\nmust have been entirely in the free choice of the parties.\n\nBut it is impossible that such a polity could long have subsisted by\nelection alone. For, in the first place, that natural love which every\nman has to his own kindred would make the chief willing to perpetuate\nthe power and dignity he acquired in his own blood,--and for that\npurpose, even during his own life, would raise his son, if grown up, or\nhis collaterals, to such a rank as they should find it only necessary to\ncontinue their possession upon his death. On the other hand, if a\nfollower was cut off in war, or fell by natural course, leaving his\noffspring destitute, the lord could not so far forget the services of\nhis vassal as not to continue his allowance to his children; and these\nagain growing up, from reason and gratitude, could only take their\nknighthood at his hands from whom they had received their education; and\nthus, as it could seldom happen but that the bond, either on the side of\nthe lord or dependant, was perpetuated, some families must have been\ndistinguished by a long continuance of this relation, and have been\ntherefore looked upon in an honorable light, from that only circumstance\nfrom whence honor was derived in the Northern world. Thus nobility was\nseen in Germany; and in the earliest Anglo-Saxon times some families\nwere distinguished by the title of Ethelings, or of noble descent. But\nthis nobility of birth was rather a qualification for the dignities of\nthe state than an actual designation to them. The Saxon ranks are\nchiefly designed to ascertain the quantity of the composition for\npersonal injuries against them.\n\nBut though this hereditary relation was created very early, it must not\nbe mistaken for such a regular inheritance as we see at this day: it was\nan inheritance only according to the principles from whence it was\nderived; by them it was modified. It was originally a military\nconnection; and if a father loft his son under a military age, so as\nthat he could neither lead nor judge his people, nor qualify the young\nmen who came up under him to take arms,--in order to continue the\ncliental bond, and not to break up an old and strong confederacy, and\nthereby disperse the tribe, who should be pitched upon to head the\nwhole, but the worthiest of blood of the deceased leader, he that ranked\nnext to him in his life?[54] And this is Tanistry, which is a succession\nmade up of inheritance and election, a succession in which blood is\ninviolably regarded, so far as it was consistent with military purposes.\nIt was thus that our kings succeeded to the throne throughout the whole\ntime of the Anglo-Saxon, empire. The first kings of the Franks succeeded\nin the same manner, and without all doubt the succession of all the\ninferior chieftains was regulated by a similar law. Very frequent\nexamples occur in the Saxon times, where the son of the deceased king,\nif under age, was entirely passed over, and his uncle, or some remoter\nrelation, raised to the crown; but there is not a single instance where\nthe election has carried it out of the blood. So that, in truth, the\ncontroversy, which has been managed with such heat, whether in the Saxon\ntimes the crown was hereditary or elective, must be determined in some\ndegree favorably for the litigants on either side; for it was certainly\nboth hereditary and elective within the bounds, which we have mentioned.\nThis order prevailed in Ireland, where the Northern customs were\nretained some hundreds of years after the rest of Europe had in a great\nmeasure receded from them. Tanistry continued in force there until the\nbeginning of the last century. And we have greatly to regret the narrow\nnotions of our lawyers, who abolished the authority of the Brehon law,\nand at the same time kept no monuments of it,--which if they had done,\nthere is no doubt but many things of great value towards determining\nmany questions relative to the laws, antiquities, and manners of this\nand other countries had been preserved. But it is clear, though it has\nnot been, I think, observed, that the ascending collateral branch was\nmuch regarded amongst the ancient Germans, and even preferred to that of\nthe immediate possessor, as being, in case of an accident arriving to\nthe chief, the presumptive heir, and him on whom the hope of the family\nwas fixed: and this is upon the principles of Tanistry. And the rule\nseems to have taken such deep root as to have much influenced a\nconsiderable article of our feudal law: for, what is very singular, and,\nI take it, otherwise unaccountable, a collateral warranty bound, even\nwithout any descending assets, where the lineal did not, unless\nsomething descended; and this subsisted invariably in the law until this\ncentury.\n\nThus we have seen the foundation of the Northern government and the\norders of their people, which consisted of dependence and confederacy:\nthat the principal end of both was military; that protection and\nmaintenance were due on the part of the chief, obedience on that of the\nfollower; that the followers should be bound to each other as well as to\nthe chief; that this headship was not at first hereditary, but that it\ncontinued in the blood by an order of its own, called Tanistry.\n\nAll these unconnected and independent parts were only linked together by\na common council: and here religion interposed. Their priests, the\nDruids, having a connection throughout each state, united it. They\ncalled the assembly of the people: and here their general resolutions\nwere taken; and the whole might rather be called a general confederacy\nthan a government. In no other bonds, I conceive, were they united\nbefore they quitted Germany. In this ancient state we know them from\nTacitus. Then follows an immense gap, in which undoubtedly some changes\nwere made by time; and we hear little more of them until we find them\nChristians, and makers of written laws. In this interval of time the\norigin of kings may be traced out. When the Saxons left their own\ncountry in search of new habitations, it must be supposed that they\nfollowed their leaders, whom they so much venerated at home; but as the\nwars which made way for their establishment continued for a long time,\nmilitary obedience made them familiar with a stricter authority. A\nsubordination, too, became necessary among the leaders of each band of\nadventurers: and being habituated to yield an obedience to a single\nperson in the field, the lustre of his command and the utility of the\ninstitution easily prevailed upon them to suffer him to form the band of\ntheir union in time of peace, under the name of King. But the leader\nneither knew the extent of the power he received, nor the people of that\nwhich they bestowed. Equally unresolved were they about the method of\nperpetuating it,--sometimes filling the vacant throne by election,\nwithout regard to, but more frequently regarding, the blood of the\ndeceased prince; but it was late before they fell into any regular plan\nof succession, if ever the Anglo-Saxons attained it. Thus their polity\nwas formed slowly; the prospect clears up by little and little; and this\nspecies of an irregular republic we see turned into a monarchy as\nirregular. It is no wonder that the advocates for the several parties\namong us find something to favor their several notions in the Saxon\ngovernment, which was never supported by any fixed or uniform principle.\nTo comprehend the other parts of the government of our ancestors, we\nmust take notice of the orders into winch they were classed. As well as\nwe can judge in so obscure a matter, they were divided into nobles or\ngentlemen, freeholders, freemen that were not freeholders, and slaves.\nOf these last we have little to say, as they were nothing in the state.\nThe nobles were called Thanes, or servants. It must be remembered that\nthe German chiefs were raised to that honorable rank by those\nqualifications which drew after them a numerous train of followers and\ndependants.[55] If it was honorable to be followed by a numerous train,\nso it was honorable in a secondary degree to be a follower of a man of\nconsideration; and this honor was the greater in proportion to the\nquality of the chief, and to the nearness of the attendance on his\nperson. When a monarchy was formed, the splendor of the crown naturally\ndrowned all the inferior honors; and the attendants on the person of the\nking were considered as the first in rank, and derived their dignity\nfrom their service. Yet as the Saxon government had still a large\nmixture of the popular, it was likewise requisite, in order to raise a\nman to the first rank of thanes, that he should have a suitable\nattendance and sway amongst the people. To support him in both of these,\nit was necessary that he should have a competent estate. Therefore in\nthis service of the king, this attendance on himself, and this estate to\nsupport both, the dignity of a thane consisted. I understand here a\nthane of the first order.\n\n[Sidenote: Hallmote, or Court-Baron.]\n\nEvery thane, in the distribution of his lands, had two objects in view:\nthe support of his family, and the maintenance of his dignity. He\ntherefore retained in his own hands a parcel of land near his house,\nwhich in the Saxon times was called inland, and afterwards his demesne,\nwhich served to keep up his hospitality: and this land was cultivated\neither by slaves, or by the poorer sort of people, who held lands of him\nby the performance of this service. The other portion of his estate he\neither gave for life or lives to his followers, men of a liberal\ncondition, who served the greater thane, as he himself served the king.\nThey were called Under Thanes, or, according to the language of that\ntime, Theoden.[56] They served their lord in all public business; they\nfollowed him in war; and they sought justice in his court in all their\nprivate differences. These may be considered as freeholders of the\nbetter sort, or indeed a sort of lesser gentry therefore, as they were\nnot the absolute dependants, but in some measure the peers of their\nlord, when they sued in his court, they claimed the privilege of all the\nGerman freemen, the right of judging one another: the lord's steward was\nonly the register. This domestic court, which continued in full vigor\nfor many ages, the Saxons called Hall mote, from the place in which it\nwas held; the Normans, who adopted it, named it a Court-Baron. This\ncourt had another department, in which the power of the lord was more\nabsolute. From the most ancient times the German nobility considered\nthemselves as the natural judges of those who were employed in the\ncultivation of their lands, looking on husbandmen with contempt, and\nonly as a parcel of the soil which they tilled: to these the Saxons\ncommonly allotted some part of their outlands to hold as tenants at\nwill, and to perform very low services for them. The differences of\nthese inferior tenants were decided in the lord's court, in which his\nsteward sat as judge; and this manner of tenure probably gave an origin\nto copyholders.[57] Their estates were at will, but their persons were\nfree: nor can we suppose that villains, if we consider villains as\nsynonymous to slaves, could ever by any natural course have risen to\ncopyholders; because the servile condition of the villain's person would\nalways have prevented that stable tenure in the lands which the\ncopyholders came to in very early times. The merely servile part of the\nnation seems never to have been known by the name of Villains or\nCeorles, but by those of Bordars, Esnes, and Theowes.\n\n[Sidenote: Tithing Court.]\n\nAs there were large tracts throughout the country not subject to the\njurisdiction of any thane, the inhabitants of which were probably some\nremains of the ancient Britons not reduced to absolute slavery, and such\nSaxons as had not attached themselves to the fortunes of any leading\nman, it was proper to find some method of uniting and governing these\ndetached parts of the nation, which had not been brought into order by\nany private dependence. To answer this end, the whole kingdom was\ndivided into Shires, these into Hundreds, and the Hundreds into\nTithings.[58] This division was not made, as it is generally imagined,\nby King Alfred, though he might have introduced better regulations\nconcerning it; it prevailed on the continent, wherever the Northern\nnations had obtained a settlement; and it is a species of order\nextremely obvious to all who use the decimal notation: when for the\npurposes of government they divide a county, tens and hundreds are the\nfirst modes of division which occur. The Tithing, which was the smallest\nof these divisions, consisted of ten heads of families, free, and of\nsome consideration. These held a court every fortnight, which they\ncalled the Folkmote, or Leet, and there became reciprocally bound to\neach other and to the public for their own peaceable behavior and that\nof their families and dependants. Every man in the kingdom, except those\nwho belonged to the seigneurial courts we have mentioned, was obliged to\nenter himself into some tithing: to this he was inseparably attached;\nnor could he by any means quit it without license from the head of the\ntithing; because, if he was guilty of any misdemeanor, his district was\nobliged to produce him or pay his fine. In this manner was the whole\nnation, as it were, held under sureties: a species of regulation\nundoubtedly very wise with regard to the preservation of peace and\norder, but equally prejudicial to all improvement in the minds or the\nfortunes of the people, who, fixed invariably to the spot, were\ndepressed with all the ideas of their original littleness, and by all\nthat envy which is sure to arise in those who see their equals\nattempting to mount over them. This rigid order deadened by degrees the\nspirit of the English, and narrowed their conceptions. Everything was\nnew to them, and therefore everything was terrible; all activity,\nboldness, enterprise, and invention died away. There may be a danger in\nstraining too strongly the bonds of government. As a life of absolute\nlicense tends to turn men into savages, the other extreme of constraint\noperates much in the same manner: it reduces them to the same ignorance,\nbut leaves them nothing of the savage spirit. These regulations helped\nto keep the people of England the most backward in Europe; for though\nthe division into shires and hundreds and tithings was common to them\nwith the neighboring nations, yet the _frankpledge_ seems to be a\npeculiarity in the English Constitution; and for good reasons they have\nfallen into disuse, though still some traces of them are to be found in\nour laws.\n\n[Sidenote: Hundred Court.]\n\nTen of these tithings made an Hundred. Here in ordinary course they held\na monthly court for the centenary, when all the suitors of the\nsubordinate tithings attended. Here were determined causes concerning\nbreaches of the peace, small debts, and such matters as rather required\na speedy than a refined justice.\n\n[Sidenote: County Court.]\n\n[Sidenote: Ealdorman and Bishop.]\n\nThere was in the Saxon Constitution a great simplicity. The higher order\nof courts were but the transcript of the lower, somewhat more extended\nin their objects and in their power; and their power over the inferior\ncourts proceeded only from their being a collection of them all. The\nCounty or Shire Court was the great resort for justice (for the four\ngreat courts of record did not then exist). It served to unite all the\ninferior districts with one another, and those with the private\njurisdiction of the thanes. This court had no fixed place. The alderman\nof the shire appointed it. Hither came to account for their own conduct,\nand that of those beneath them, the bailiffs of hundreds and tithings\nand boroughs, with their people,--the thanes of either rank, with their\ndependants,--a vast concourse of the clergy of all orders: in a word, of\nall who sought or distributed justice. In this mixed assembly the\nobligations contracted in the inferior courts were renewed, a general\noath of allegiance to the king was taken, and all debates between the\nseveral inferior co\u00f6rdinate jurisdictions, as well as the causes of too\nmuch weight for them, finally determined. In this court presided (for in\nstrict signification he does not seem to have been a judge) an officer\nof great consideration in those times, called the Ealdorman of the\nShire. With him sat the bishop, to decide in whatever related to the\nChurch, and to mitigate the rigor of the law by the interposition of\nequity, according to the species of mild justice that suited the\necclesiastical character. It appears by the ancient Saxon laws, that the\nbishop was the chief acting person in this court. The reverence in which\nthe clergy were then held, the superior learning of the bishop, his\nsucceeding to the power and jurisdiction of the Druid, all contributed\nto raise him far above the ealdorman, and to render it in reality his\ncourt. And this was probably the reason of the extreme lenity of the\nSaxon laws. The canons forbade the bishops to meddle in cases of blood.\nAmongst the ancient Gauls and Germans the Druid could alone condemn to\ndeath; so that on the introduction of Christianity there was none who\ncould, in ordinary course, sentence a man to capital punishment:\nnecessity alone forced it in a few cases.\n\nConcerning the right of appointing the Alderman of the Shire there is\nsome uncertainty. That he was anciently elected by his county is\nindisputable; that an alderman of the shire was appointed by the crown\nseems equally clear from the writings of King Alfred. A conjecture of\nSpelman throws some light upon this affair. He conceives that there were\ntwo aldermen with concurrent jurisdiction, one of whom was elected by\nthe people, the other appointed by the king. This is very probable, and\nvery correspondent to the nature of the Saxon Constitution, which was a\nspecies of democracy poised and held together by a degree of monarchical\npower. If the king had no officer to represent him in the county court,\nwherein all the ordinary business of the nation was then transacted, the\nstate would have hardly differed from a pure democracy. Besides, as the\nking had in every county large landed possessions, either in his\ndemesne, or to reward and pay his officers, he would have been in a much\nworse condition than any of his subjects, if he had been destitute of a\nmagistrate to take care of his rights and to do justice to his numerous\nvassals. It appears, as well as we can judge in so obscure a matter,\nthat the popular alderman was elected for a year only, and that the\nroyal alderman held his place at the king's pleasure. This latter\noffice, however, in process of time, was granted for life; and it grew\nafterwards to be hereditary in many shires.\n\n[Sidenote: The Sheriff.]\n\n[Sidenote: Sheriff's Tourn.]\n\nWe cannot pretend to say when the Sheriff came to be substituted in the\nplace of the Ealdorman: some authors think King Alfred the contriver of\nthis regulation. It might have arisen from the nature of the thing\nitself. As several persons of consequence enough to obtain by their\ninterest or power the place of alderman were not sufficiently qualified\nto perform the duty of the office, they contented themselves with the\nhonorary part, and left the judicial province to their substitute.[59]\nThe business of the robe to a rude martial people was contemptible and\ndisgusting. The thanes, in their private jurisdictions, had delegated\ntheir power of judging to their reeves, or stewards; and the earl, or\nalderman, who was in the shire what the thane was in his manor, for the\nsame reasons officiated by his deputy, the shire-reeve. This is the\norigin of the Sheriff's Tourn, which decided in all affairs, civil and\ncriminal, of whatever importance, and from which there lay no appeal but\nto the Witenagemote. Now there scarce remains the shadow of a body\nformerly so great: the judge being reduced almost wholly to a\nministerial officer; and to the court there being left nothing more\nthan the cognizance of pleas under forty shillings, unless by a\nparticular writ or special commission. But by what steps such a\nrevolution came on it will be our business hereafter to inquire.\n\n[Sidenote: Witenagemote.]\n\nThe Witenagemote or Saxon Parliament, the supreme court, had authority\nover all the rest, not upon any principle of subordination, but because\nit was formed of all the rest. In this assembly, which was held\nannually, and sometimes twice a year, sat the earls and bishops and\ngreater thanes, with the other officers of the crown.[60] So far as we\ncan judge by the style of the Saxon laws, none but the thanes, or\nnobility, were considered as necessary constituent parts of this\nassembly, at least whilst it acted deliberatively. It is true that great\nnumbers of all ranks of people attended its session, and gave by their\nattendance, and their approbation of what was done, a sanction to the\nlaws; but when they consented to anything, it was rather in the way of\nacclamation than by the exercise of a deliberate voice, or a regular\nassent or negative. This may be explained by considering the analogy of\nthe inferior assemblies. All persons, of whatever rank, attended at the\ncounty courts; but they did not go there as judges, they went to sue for\njustice,--to be informed of their duty, and to be bound to the\nperformance of it. Thus all sorts of people attended at the\nWitenagemotes, not to make laws, but to attend at the promulgation of\nthe laws;[61] as among so free a people every institution must have\nwanted much of its necessary authority, if not confirmed by the general\napprobation. Lambard is of opinion that in these early times the commons\nsat, as they do at this day, by representation from shires and boroughs;\nand he supports his opinion by very plausible reasons. A notion of this\nkind, so contrary to the simplicity of the Saxon ideas of government,\nand to the genius of that people, who held the arts and commerce in so\nmuch contempt, must be founded on such appearances as no other\nexplanation can account for.\n\nTo the reign of Henry the Second, the citizens and burgesses were little\nremoved from absolute slaves. They might be taxed individually at what\nsum the king thought fit to demand; or they might be discharged by\noffering the king a sum, from which, if he accepted it, the citizens\nwere not at liberty to recede; and in either case the demand was exacted\nwith severity, and even cruelty. A great difference is made between\ntaxing them and those who cultivate lands: because, says my author,\ntheir property is easily concealed; they live penuriously, are intent by\nall methods to increase their substance, and their immense wealth is not\neasily exhausted. Such was their barbarous notion of trade and its\nimportance. The same author, speaking of the severe taxation, and\nviolent method of extorting it, observes that it is a very proper\nmethod,--and that it is very just that a degenerate officer, or other\nfreeman, rejecting his condition for sordid gain, should be punished\nbeyond the common law of freemen.\n\nI take it that those who held by ancient demesne did not prescribe\nsimply not to contribute to the expenses of the knight of the shire; but\nthey prescribed, as they did in all cases, upon a general principle, to\npay no tax, nor to attend any duty of whatever species, because they\nwere the king's villains. The argument is drawn from the poverty of the\nboroughs, which ever since the Conquest have been of no consideration,\nand yet send members to Parliament; which they could not do, but by some\nprivileges inherent in them, on account of a practice of the same kind\nin the Saxon times, when they were of more repute. It is certain that\nmany places now called boroughs were formerly towns or villages in\nancient demesne of the king, and had, as such, writs directed to them to\nappear in Parliament, that they might make a free gift or benevolence,\nas the boroughs did; and from thence arose the custom of summoning them.\nThis appears by sufficient records. And it appears by records also, that\nit was much at the discretion of the sheriff what boroughs he should\nreturn; a general writ was directed to him to return for all the\nboroughs in a shire; sometimes boroughs which had formerly sent members\nto Parliament were quite passed over, and others, never considered as\nsuch before, were returned. What is called the prescription on this\noccasion was rather a sort of rule to direct the sheriff in the\nexecution of his general power than a right inherent in any boroughs.\nBut this was long after the time of which we speak. In whatever manner\nwe consider it, we must own that this subject during the Saxon times is\nextremely dark. One thing, however, is, I think, clear from the whole\ntenor of their government, and even from the tenor of the Norman\nConstitution long after: that their Witenagemotes or Parliaments were\nunformed, and that the rights by which the members held their seats\nwere far from being exactly ascertained. The _Judicia Civitatis\nLondoni\u00e6_ afford a tolerable insight into the Saxon method of making and\nexecuting laws. First, the king called together his bishops, and such\nother persons _as he thought proper_. This council, or Witenagemote,\nhaving made such laws as seemed convenient, they then swore to the\nobservance of them. The king sent a notification of these proceedings to\neach Burgmote, where the people of that court also swore to the\nobservance of them, and confederated, by means of mutual strength and\ncommon charge, to prosecute delinquents against them. Nor did there at\nthat time seem to be any other method of enforcing new laws or old. For\nas the very form of their government subsisted by a confederacy\ncontinually renewed, so, when a law was made, it was necessary for its\nexecution to have again recourse to confederacy, which was the great,\nand I should almost say the only, principle of the Anglo-Saxon\ngovernment.\n\nWhat rights the king had in this assembly is a matter of equal\nuncertainty.[62] The laws generally run in his name, with the assent of\nhis wise men, &c. But considering the low estimation of royalty in those\ndays, this may rather be considered as the voice of the executive\nmagistrate, of the person who compiled the law and propounded it to the\nWitenagemote for their consent, than of a legislator dictating from his\nown proper authority. For then, it seems, the law was digested by the\nking or his council for the assent of the general assembly. That order\nis now reversed. All these things are, I think, sufficient to show of\nwhat a visionary nature those systems are which would settle the ancient\nConstitution in the most remote times exactly in the same form in which\nwe enjoy it at this day,--not considering that such mighty changes in\nmanners, during so many ages, always must produce a considerable change\nin laws, and in the forms as well as the powers of all governments.\n\nWe shall next consider the nature of the laws passed in these\nassemblies, and the judicious manner of proceeding in these several\ncourts which we have described.\n\n[Sidenote: Saxon laws.]\n\nThe Anglo-Saxons trusted more to the strictness of their police, and to\nthe simple manners of their people, for the preservation of peace and\norder, than to accuracy or exquisite digestion of their laws, or to the\nseverity of the punishments which they inflicted.[63] The laws which\nremain to us of that people seem almost to regard two points only: the\nsuppressing of riots and affrays,--and the regulation of the several\nranks of men, in order to adjust the fines for delinquencies according\nto the dignity of the person offended, or to the quantity of the\noffence. In all other respects their laws seem very imperfect. They\noften speak in the style of counsel as well as that of command. In the\ncollection of laws attributed to Alfred we have the Decalogue\ntranscribed, with no small part of the Levitical law; in the same code\nare inserted many of the Saxon institutions, though these two laws were\nin all respects as opposite as could possibly be imagined. These\nindisputable monuments of our ancient rudeness are a very sufficient\nconfutation of the panegyrical declamations in which some persons would\npersuade us that the crude institutions of an unlettered people had\nattained an height which the united efforts of necessity, learning,\ninquiry, and experience can hardly reach to in many ages. We must add,\nthat, although as one people under one head there was some resemblance\nin the laws and customs of our Saxon ancestors throughput the kingdom,\nyet there was a considerable difference, in many material points,\nbetween the customs of the several shires: nay, that in different manors\nsubsisted a variety of laws not reconcilable with each other, some of\nwhich custom, that caused them, has abrogated; others have been\noverruled by laws or public judgment to the contrary; not a few subsist\nto this time.\n\n[Sidenote: Purgation by oath.]\n\n[Sidenote: By ordeal.]\n\nThe Saxon laws, imperfect and various as they were, served in some\ntolerable degree a people who had by their Constitution an eye on each\nother's concerns, and decided almost all matters of any doubt amongst\nthem by methods which, however inadequate, were extremely simple. They\njudged every controversy either by the conscience of the parties, or by\nthe country's opinion of it, or what they judged an appeal to\nProvidence. They were unwilling to submit to the trouble of weighing\ncontradictory testimonies; and they were destitute of those critical\nrules by which evidence is sifted, the true distinguished from the\nfalse, the certain from the uncertain. Originally, therefore, the\ndefendant in the suit was put to his oath, and if on oath he denied the\ndebt or the crime with which he was charged, he was of course acquitted.\nBut when the first fervors of religion began to decay, and fraud and the\ntemptations to fraud to increase, they trusted no longer to the\nconscience of the party. They cited him to an higher tribunal,--the\nimmediate judgment of God. Their trials were so many conjurations, and\nthe magical ceremonies of barbarity and heathenism entered into law and\nreligion. This supernatural method of process they called God's Dome; it\nis generally known by the name of _Ordeal_, which in the Saxon language\nsignifies the Great Trial. This trial was made either by fire or water:\nthat by fire was principally reserved for persons of rank; that by water\ndecided the fate of the vulgar; sometimes it was at the choice of the\nparty. A piece of iron, kept with a religious veneration in some\nmonastery, which claimed this privilege as an honor, was brought forth\ninto the church upon the day of trial; and it was there again\nconsecrated to this awful purpose by a form of service still extant. A\nsolemn mass was performed; and then the party accused appeared,\nsurrounded by the clergy, by his judges, and a vast concourse of people,\nsuspended and anxious for the event; all that assisted purified\nthemselves by a fast of three days; and the accused, who had undergone\nthe same fast, and received the sacrament, took the consecrated iron, of\nabout a pound weight, heated red, in his naked hand, and in that manner\ncarried it nine feet. This done, the hand was wrapped up and sealed in\nthe presence of the whole assembly. Three nights being passed, the\nseals were opened before all the people: if the hand was found without\nany sore inflicted by the fire, the party was cleared with universal\nacclamation; if on the contrary a raw sore appeared, the party,\ncondemned by the judgment of Heaven, had no further plea or appeal.\nSometimes the accused walked over nine hot irons: sometimes boiling\nwater was used; into this the man dipped his hand to the arm. The\njudgment by water was accompanied by the solemnity of the same\nceremonies. The culprit was thrown into a pool of water, in which if he\ndid not sink, he was adjudged guilty, as though the element (they said)\nto which they had committed the trial of his innocency had rejected him.\n\nBoth these species of ordeal, though they equally appealed to God, yet\nwent on different principles. In the fire ordeal a miracle must be\nwrought to acquit the party; in the water a miracle was necessary to\nconvict him. Is there any reason for this extraordinary distinction? or\nmust we resolve it solely into the irregular caprices of the human mind?\nThe greatest genius which has enlightened this age seems in this affair\nto have been carried by the sharpness of his wit into a subtilty hardly\nto be justified by the way of thinking of that unpolished period.\nSpeaking of the reasons for introducing this method of trial, \"_Qui ne\nvoit_,\" says he, \"_que, chez un peuple exerc\u00e9 \u00e0 manier des armes, la\npeau rude et calleuse ne devoit pas recevoir assez l'impression du fer\nchaud, ... pour qu'il y par\u00fbt trois jours apr\u00e8s? Et s'il y paroissoit,\nc'\u00e9toit une marque que celui qui faisoit l'\u00e9preuve \u00e9toit un eff\u00e9min\u00e9_.\"\nAnd this mark of effeminacy, he observes, in those warlike times,\nsupposed that the man has resisted the principles of his education, that\nhe is insensible to honor, and regardless of the opinion of his\ncountry. But supposing the effect of hot iron to be so slight even on\nthe most callous hands, of which, however, there is reason to doubt, yet\nwe can hardly admit this reasoning, when we consider that women were\nsubjected to this fire ordeal, and that no other women than those of\ncondition could be subjected to it. Montesquieu answers the objection,\nwhich he foresaw would be made, by remarking, that women might have\navoided this proof, if they could find a champion to combat in their\nfavor; and he thinks a just presumption might be formed against a woman\nof rank who was so destitute of friends as to find no protector. It must\nbe owned that the barbarous people all over Europe were much guided by\npresumptions in all their judicial proceedings; but how shall we\nreconcile all this with the custom of the Anglo-Saxons, among whom the\nordeal was in constant use, and even for women, without the alternative\nof the combat, to which it appears this people were entire strangers?\nWhat presumption can arise from the event of the water ordeal, in which\nno callosity of hands, no bravery, no skill in arms, could be in any\ndegree serviceable? The causes of both may with more success be sought\namongst the superstitious ideas of the ancient Northern world. Amongst\nthe Germans the administration of the law was in the hands of the\npriests or Druids.[64] And as the Druid worship paid the highest respect\nto the elements of fire and water, it was very natural that they who\nabounded with so many conjurations for the discovery of doubtful facts\nor future events should make use of these elements in their divination.\nIt may appear the greater wonder, how the people came to continue so\nlong, and with, such obstinacy, after the introduction of Christianity,\nand in spite of the frequent injunctions of the Pope, whose authority\nwas then much venerated, in the use of a species of proof the\ninsufficiency of which a thousand examples might have detected. But this\nis perhaps not so unaccountable. Persons were not put to this trial,\nunless there was pretty strong evidence against them, something\nsufficient to form what is equivalent to a _corpus delicti_; they must\nhave been actually found guilty by the _duodecemvirale judicium_, before\nthey could be subjected in any sort to the ordeal. It was in effect\nshowing the accused an indulgence to give him this chance, even such a\nchance as it was, of an acquittal; and it was certainly much milder than\nthe torture, which is used, with full as little certainty of producing\nits end, among the most civilized nations. And the ordeal without\nquestion frequently operated by the mere terror. Many persons, from a\ndread of the event, chose to discover rather than to endure the trial.\nOf those that did endure it, many must certainly have been guilty. The\ninnocency of some who suffered could never be known with certainty.\nOthers by accident might have escaped; and this apparently miraculous\nescape had great weight in confirming the authority of this trial. How\nlong did we continue in punishing innocent people for witchcraft, though\nexperience might, to thinking persons, have frequently discovered the\ninjustice of that proceeding! whilst to the generality a thousand\nequivocal appearances, confessions from fear or weakness, in fine, the\ntorrent of popular prejudice rolled down through so many ages, conspired\nto support the delusion.\n\n[Sidenote: Compurgation.]\n\nTo avoid as much as possible this severe mode of trial, and at the same\ntime to leave no inlet for perjury, another method of clearing was\ndevised. The party accused of any crime, or charged in a civil\ncomplaint, appeared in court with some of his neighbors, who were called\nhis Compurgators; and when on oath he denied the charge, they swore that\nthey believed his oath to be true.[65] These compurgators were at first\nto be three; afterwards five were required; in process of time twelve\nbecame necessary.[66] As a man might be charged by the opinion of the\ncountry, so he might also be discharged by it: twelve men were necessary\nto find him guilty, twelve might have acquitted him. If opinion supports\nall government, it not only supported in the general sense, but it\ndirected every minute part in the Saxon polity. A man who did not seem\nto have the good opinion of those among whom he lived was judged to be\nguilty, or at least capable of being guilty, of every crime. It was upon\nthis principle that a man who could not find the security of some\ntithing or friborg for his behavior,[67] he that was upon account of\nthis universal desertion called Friendless Man, was by our ancestors\ncondemned to death,--a punishment which the lenity of the English laws\nin that time scarcely inflicted for any crime, however clearly proved: a\ncircumstance which strongly marks the genius of the Saxon government.\n\n[Sidenote: Trial by the Country.]\n\nOn the same principle from which the trial by the oath of compurgators\nwas derived, was derived also the Trial by the Country, which was the\nmethod of taking the sense of the neighborhood on any dubious fact. If\nthe matter was of great importance, it was put in the full Shiremote;\nand if the general voice acquitted or condemned, decided for one party\nor the other, this was final in the cause. But then it was necessary\nthat all should agree: for it does not appear that our ancestors, in\nthose days, conceived how any assembly could be supposed to give an\nassent to a point concerning which several who composed that assembly\nthought differently. They had no idea that a body composed of several\ncould act by the opinion of a small majority. But experience having\nshown that this method of trial was tumultuary and uncertain, they\ncorrected it by the idea of compurgation. The party concerned was no\nlonger put to his oath,--he simply pleaded; the compurgators swore as\nbefore in ancient times; therefore the jury were strictly from the\nneighborhood, and were supposed to have a personal knowledge of the man\nand the fact. They were rather a sort of evidence than judges: and from\nhence is derived that singularity in our laws, that most of our\njudgments are given upon verdict, and not upon evidence, contrary to the\nlaws of most other countries. Neither are our juries bound, except by\none particular statute, and in particular cases, to observe any positive\ntestimony, but are at liberty to judge upon presumptions. These are the\nfirst rude chalkings-out of our jurisprudence. The Saxons were extremely\nimperfect in their ideas of law,--the civil institutions of the Romans,\nwho were the legislators of mankind, having never reached them. The\norder of our courts, the discipline of our jury, by which it is become\nso elaborate a contrivance, and the introduction of a sort of scientific\nreason in the law, have been the work of ages.\n\nAs the Saxon laws did not suffer any transaction, whether of the sale of\nland or goods, to pass but in the shire and before witnesses, so all\ncontroversies of them were concluded by what they called the _scyre\nwitness_.[68] This was tried by the oaths of the parties, by _viv\u00e2 voce_\ntestimony, and the producing of charters and records. Then the people,\nlaity and clergy, whether by plurality of votes or by what other means\nis not very certain, affirmed the testimony in favor of one of the\nclaimants. Then the proceeding was signed, first by those who held the\ncourt, and then by the persons who affirmed the judgment, who also swore\nto it in the same manner.[69]\n\n[Sidenote: Punishments.]\n\nThe Saxons were extremely moderate in their punishments. Murder and\ntreason were compounded, and a fine set for every offence. Forfeiture\nfor felony was incurred only by those that fled. The punishment with\ndeath was very rare,--with torture unknown. In all ancient nations, the\npunishment of crimes was in the family injured by them, particularly in\ncase of murder.[70] This brought deadly feuds amongst the people, which,\nin the German nations particularly, subsisted through several\ngenerations. But as a fruitless revenge could answer little purpose to\nthe parties injured and was ruinous to the public peace, by the\ninterposal of good offices they were prevailed upon to accept some\ncomposition in lieu of the blood of the aggressor, and peace was\nrestored. The Saxon government did little more than act the part of\narbitrator between the contending parties, exacted the payment of this\ncomposition, and reduced it to a certainty. However, the king, as the\nsovereign of all, and the sheriff, as the judicial officer, had their\nshare in those fines. This unwillingness to shed blood, which the Saxon\ncustoms gave rise to, the Christian religion confirmed. Yet was it not\naltogether so imperfect as to have no punishment adequate to those great\ndelinquencies which tend entirely to overturn a state, public robbery,\nmurder of the lord.[71]\n\n[Sidenote: Origin of succession.]\n\n[Sidenote: Annual property.]\n\nAs amongst the Anglo-Saxons government depended in some measure upon\nland-property, it will not be amiss to say something upon their manner\nof holding and inheriting their lands. It must not be forgot that the\nGermans were of Scythian original, and had preserved that way of life\nand those peculiar manners which distinguished the parent nation. As the\nScythians lived principally by pasturage and hunting, from the nature of\nthat way of employment they were continually changing their habitations.\nBut even in this case some small degree of agriculture was carried on,\nand therefore some sort of division of property became necessary. This\ndivision was made among each tribe by its proper chief. But their shares\nwere allotted to the several individuals only for a year, lest they\nshould come to attach themselves to any certain habitation: a settlement\nbeing wholly contrary to the genius of the Scythian, manners.\n\n      Campestres melius Scyth\u00e6,\n    Quorum plaustra vagas rite trahunt domos,\n      Vivunt, et rigidi Get\u00e6,\n    Immetata quibus jugera liberas\n      Fruges et Cererem ferunt,\n    Nec cultura placet longior annu\u00e2.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Estates for life.]\n\n[Sidenote: Inheritance.]\n\n[Sidenote: Book-land.]\n\n[Sidenote: Folk-land.]\n\n[Sidenote: Saxon fiefs.]\n\nThis custom of an annual property probably continued amongst the Germans\nas long as they remained in their own country; but when their conquests\ncarried them into other parts, another object besides the possession of\nthe land arose, which obliged them to make a change in this particular.\nIn the distribution of the conquered lands, the ancient possessors of\nthem became an object of consideration, and the management of these\nbecame one of the principal branches of their polity. It was expedient\ntowards holding them in perfect subjection, that they should be\nhabituated to obey one person, and that a kind of cliental relation\nshould be created between them; therefore the land, with the slaves, and\nthe people in a state next to slavery, annexed to it, was bestowed for\nlife in the general distribution. When life-estates were once granted,\nit seemed a natural consequence that inheritances should immediately\nsupervene. When a durable connection is created between a certain man\nand a certain portion of land by a possession for his whole life, and\nwhen his children have grown up and have been supported on that land, it\nseems so great an hardship to separate them, and to deprive thereby the\nfamily of all means of subsisting, that nothing could be more generally\ndesired nor more reasonably allowed than an inheritance; and this\nreasonableness was strongly enforced by the great change wrought in\ntheir affairs when life-estates were granted. Whilst according to the\nancient custom lands were only given for a year, there was a rotation so\nquick that every family came in its turn to be easily provided for, and\nhad not long to wait; but the children of a tenant for life, when they\nlost the benefit of their father's possession, saw themselves as it\nwere immured upon every side by the life-estates, and perceived no\nreasonable hope of a provision from any new arrangement. These\ninheritances began very early in England. By a law of King Alfred it\nappears that they were then of a very ancient establishment: and as such\ninheritances were intended for great stability, they fortified them by\ncharters; and therefore they were called Book-land. This was done with\nregard to the possession of the better sort: the meaner, who were called\n_ceorles_, if they did not live in a dependence on some thane, held\ntheir small portions of land as an inheritance likewise,--not by\ncharter, but by a sort of prescription. This was called Folk-land. These\nestates of inheritance, both the greater and the meaner, were not fiefs;\nthey were to all purposes allodial, and had hardly a single property of\na feud; they descended equally to all the children, males and females,\naccording to the custom of gavelkind, a custom absolutely contrary to\nthe genius of the feudal tenure; and whenever estates were granted in\nthe later Saxon times by the bounty of the crown with an intent that\nthey should be inheritable, so far were they from being granted with the\ncomplicated load of all the feudal services annexed, that in all the\ncharters of that kind which subsist they are bestowed with a full power\nof alienation, _et liberi ab omni seculari gravamine_. This was the\ngeneral condition of those inheritances which were derived from the\nright of original conquest, as well to all the soldiers as to the\nleader; and these estates, as it is said, were not even forfeitable, no,\nnot for felony, as if that were in some sort the necessary consequence\nof an inheritable estate. So far were they from resembling a fief. But\nthere were other possessions which bore a nearer resemblance to fiefs,\nat least in their first feeble and infantile state of the tenure, than,\nthose inheritances which were held by an absolute right in the\nproprietor. The great officers who attended the court, commanded armies,\nor distributed justice must necessarily be paid and supported; but in\nwhat manner could they be paid? In money they could not, because there\nwas very little money then in Europe, and scarce any part of that little\ncame into the prince's coffers. The only method of paying them was by\nallotting lands for their subsistence whilst they remained in his\nservice. For this reason, in the original distribution, vast tracts of\nland were left in the hands of the king. If any served the king in a\nmilitary command, his land may be said to have been in some sort held by\nknight-service. If the tenant was in an office about the king's person,\nthis gave rise to sergeantry; the persons who cultivated his lands may\nbe considered as holding by socage. But the long train of services that\nmade afterwards the learning of the tenures were then not thought of,\nbecause these feuds, if we may so call them, had not then come to be\ninheritances,--which circumstance of inheritance gave rise to the whole\nfeudal system. With the Anglo-Saxons the feuds continued to the last but\na sort of pay or salary of office. The _trinoda necessitas_, so much\nspoken of, which was to attend the king in his expeditions, and to\ncontribute to the building of bridges and repair of highways, never\nbound the lands by way of tenure, but as a political regulation, which\nequally affected every class and condition of men and every species of\npossession.\n\n[Sidenote: Gavelkind.]\n\nThe manner of succeeding to lands in England at this period was, as we\nhave observed, by Gavelkind,--an equal distribution amongst the\nchildren, males and females. The ancient Northern nations had but an\nimperfect notion of political power. That the possessor of the land\nshould be the governor of it was a simple idea; and their schemes\nextended but little further. It was not so in the Greek and Italian\ncommonwealths. In those the property of the land was in all respects\nsimilar to that of goods, and had nothing of jurisdiction annexed to it;\nthe government there was a merely political institution. Amongst such a\npeople the custom of distribution could be of no ill consequence,\nbecause it only affected property. But gavelkind amongst the Saxons was\nvery prejudicial; for, as government was annexed to a certain possession\nin land, this possession, which was continually changing, kept the\ngovernment in a very fluctuating state: so that their civil polity had\nin it an essential evil, which contributed to the sickly condition in\nwhich the Anglo-Saxon state always remained, as well as to its final\ndissolution.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[49] They had no other nobility; yet several families amongst them were\nconsidered as noble.\n\n[50] Arma sumere non ante cuiquam moris, qu\u00e0m civitas suffecturum\nprobaverit.--Tacitus de Mor. Germ. 13.\n\n[51] Nihil autem neque public\u00e6 neque privat\u00e6 rei nisi armati\nagunt.--Tacitus de Mor. Germ. 13.\n\n[52] C\u00e6teri robustioribus ac jam pridem probatis aggregantur.--Id. ibid.\n\n[53] Illum defendere, tueri, sua quoque fortia facta glori\u00e6 ejus as\nsignare, pr\u00e6cipuum sacramentum est.--Id. 14.\n\n[54] Deputed authority, guardianship, &c, not known to the Northern\nnations; they gained this idea by intercourse with the Romans.\n\n[55] Jud. Civ. Lund. apud Wilk. post p. 68.\n\n[56] Spelman of Feuds, ch. 5.\n\n[57] Fuerunt etiam in conquestu liberi homines, qui libere tenuerunt\ntenementa sua per libera servitia vel per liberas consuetudines.--For\nthe original of copyholds, see Bracton, Lib. I. fol. 7.\n\n[58] Ibi debent populi omnes et gentes univers\u00e6 singulis annis, semel in\nanno scilicet, convenire, scilicet in capite Kal. Maii, et se fide et\nsacramento non fracto ibi in unam et simul confoederare, et\nconsolidare sicut conjurati fratres ad defendendum regnum contra\nalienigenas et contra inimicos, un\u00e2 cum domino suo rege, et terras et\nhonores illius omni fidelitate cum eo servare, et quod illi ut domino\nsuo regi intra et extra regnum universum Britanni\u00e6 fideles esse\nvolunt--LL. Ed. Conf. c. 35.--Of Heretoches and their election, vide Id.\neodem.\n\nProbibitum erat etiam in eadem lege, ne quis emeret vivum animal vel\npannum usatum sine plegiis et bonis testibus.--Of other particulars of\nbuying and selling, vide Leges Ed. Conf. 38.\n\n[59] Sheriff in the Norman times was merely the king's officer, not the\nearl's. The earl retained his ancient fee, without jurisdiction; the\nsheriff did all the business. The elective sheriff must have disappeared\non the Conquest; for then all land was the king's, either immediately or\nmediately, and therefore his officer governed.\n\n[60] How this assembly was composed, or by what right the members sat in\nit, I cannot by any means satisfy myself. What is here said is, I\nbelieve, nearest to the truth.\n\n[61] Hence, perhaps, all men are supposed cognizant of the law.\n\n[62] Debet etiam rex omnia rite facere in regno, et per judicium\nprocerum regni.--Debet ... justitiam per consilium procerum regni sui\ntenere.--Leges Ed. 17.\n\n[63] The non-observance of a regulation of police was always heavily\npunished by barbarous nations; a slighter punishment was inflicted upon\nthe commission of crimes. Among the Saxons moat crimes were punished by\nfine; wandering from the highway without sounding an horn was death. So\namong the Druids,--to enforce exactness in time at their meetings, he\nthat came last after the time appointed was punished with death.\n\n[64] The Druids judged not as magistrates, but as interpreters of the\nwill of Heaven. \"Ceterum neque animadvertere, neque vincire, neque\nverberare quidem, nisi sacerdotibus permissum; non quasi in poenam,\nnec ducis jussu, sed velut Deo imperante,\" says Tacitus, de Mor. German.\n7.\n\n[65] Si quis emendationem oppidorum vel pontium vel profectionem\nmilitarem detrectaverit, compenset regi cxx solidis, ... vel purget se,\net nominentur ei xiv, et eligantur xi.--Leges Cnuti, 62.\n\n[66] Si accusatio sit, et purgatio male succedat, judicet\nEpiscopus.--Leges Cnuti, 53.\n\n[67] Every man not privileged, whether he be paterfamilias,\n(heorthfest,[A]) or pedissequa, (folghere,[B]) must enter into the\nhundred and tithing, and all above twelve to swear he will not be a\nthief or consenting to a thief.--Leges Cnuti, 19.\n\n[A] Heorthfeste,--the same with Husfastene, i.e. the master of a family,\nfrom the Saxon, Hearthf\u00e6st, i.e. fixed to the house or hearth.\n\n[B] The Folgheres, or Folgeres, were the menial servants or followers of\nthe Husfastene, or Housekeepers.--Bracton, Lib. III., Tract. 2, cap. 10.\nLeges Hen. I. cap. 8.\n\n[68] Si quis terram defenderit testimonio provinci\u00e6, &c.--Leges Cnuti,\n76: And sethe land gewerod hebbe be scyre gewitnesse.\n\n[69] See, in Madox, the case in Bishop of Bathes Court See also Brady,\n272, where the witnesses on one side offer to swear, or join battle with\nthe other.\n\n[70] Parentibus occisi fiat emendatio, vel guerra eorum portetur; unde\nAnglic\u00e8 proverbium habetur, Bige spere of side, oththe b\u00e6r; id est, Eme\nlanceam a latere, aut fer.--Leges Ed. 12.\n\nThe fines on the town or hundred.\n\nParentes murdrati sex marcas haberent, rex quadraginta. [This different\nfrom the ancient usage, where the king had half.] Si parentes deessent,\ndominus ejus reciperet. Si dominum non haberet, felagus ejus, id est,\nfide cum eo ligatus.--Leges Ed. 15.\n\n[71] Purveyance. Vide Leges Cnuti, 67.\n\nSi quis intestatus ex hac vita decedat, sive sit per negligentiam ejus,\nsive per mortem subitaneam, tunc non assumat sibi dominus plus\npossessionis (\u00e6hta) ipsius quam justum armamentum; sed post mortem\npossessio (\u00e6htgescyft) ejus quam justissime distribuatur uxori et\nliberis, et propinquis cognatis, cuilibet pro dignitate qu\u00e6 ad cum\npertinet.--Leges Cnuti, 68.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nVIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE AT THE TIME OF THE NORMAN INVASION.\n\n\nBefore the period of which we are going to treat, England was little\nknown or considered in Europe. Their situation, their domestic\ncalamities, and their ignorance circumscribed the views and politics of\nthe English within the bounds of their own island. But the Norman\nconqueror threw down all these barriers. The English laws, manners, and\nmaxims were suddenly changed; the scene was enlarged; and the\ncommunication with the rest of Europe, being thus opened, has been\npreserved ever since in a continued series of wars and negotiations.\nThat we may, therefore, enter more fully into the matters which lie\nbefore us, it is necessary that we understand the state of the\nneighboring continent at the time when this island first came to be\ninterested in its affairs.\n\nThe Northern nations who had overran the Roman Empire were at first\nrather actuated by avarice than ambition, and were more intent upon\nplunder than conquest; they were carried beyond their original purposes,\nwhen they began, to form regular governments, for which they had been\nprepared by no just ideas of legislation. For a long time, therefore,\nthere was little of order in their affairs or foresight in their\ndesigns. The Goths, the Burgundians, the Franks, the Vandals, the Suevi,\nafter they had prevailed over the Roman Empire, by turns prevailed over\neach other in continual wars, which were carried on upon no principles\nof a determinate policy, entered into upon motives of brutality and\ncaprice, and ended as fortune and rude violence chanced to prevail.\nTumult, anarchy, confusion, overspread the face of Europe; and an\nobscurity rests upon the transactions of that time which suffers us to\ndiscover nothing but its extreme barbarity.\n\nBefore this cloud could be dispersed, the Saracens, another body of\nbarbarians from the South, animated by a fury not unlike that which gave\nstrength to the Northern irruptions, but heightened by enthusiasm, and\nregulated by subordination and an uniform policy, began to carry their\narms, their manners, and religion, into every part of the universe.\nSpain was entirely overwhelmed by the torrent of their armies, Italy and\nthe islands were harassed by their fleets, and all Europe alarmed by\ntheir vigorous and frequent enterprises. Italy, who had so long sat the\nmistress of the world, was by turns the slave of all nations. The\npossession of that fine country was hotly disputed between the Greek\nEmperor and the Lombards, and it suffered infinitely by that contention.\nGermany, the parent of so many nations, was exhausted by the swarms she\nhad sent abroad.\n\nHowever, in the midst of this chaos there were principles at work which\nreduced things to a certain form, and gradually unfolded a system in\nwhich the chief movers and main springs were the Papal and the Imperial\npowers,--the aggrandizement or diminution of which have been the drift\nof almost all the politics, intrigues, and wars which have employed and\ndistracted Europe to this day.\n\nFrom Rome the whole Western world had received its Christianity; she was\nthe asylum of what learning had escaped the general desolation; and even\nin her ruins she preserved something of the majesty of her ancient\ngreatness. On these accounts she had a respect and a weight which\nincreased every day amongst a simple religious people, who looked but a\nlittle way into the consequences of their actions. The rudeness of the\nworld was very favorable for the establishment of an empire of opinion.\nThe moderation with which the Popes at first exerted this empire made\nits growth unfelt until it could no longer be opposed; and the policy of\nlater Popes, building on the piety of the first, continually increased\nit: and they made use of every instrument but that of force. They\nemployed equally the virtues and the crimes of the great; they favored\nthe lust of kings for absolute authority, and the desire of subjects for\nliberty; they provoked war, and mediated peace; and took advantage of\nevery turn in the minds of men, whether of a public or private nature,\nto extend their influence, and push their power from ecclesiastical to\ncivil, from subjection to independency, from independency to empire.\n\nFrance had many advantages over the other parts of Europe. The Saracens\nhad no permanent success in that country. The same hand which expelled\nthose invaders deposed the last of a race of heavy and degenerate\nprinces, more like Eastern monarchs than German leaders, and who had\nneither the force to repel the enemies of their kingdom nor to assert\ntheir own sovereignly. This usurpation placed on the throne princes of\nanother character, princes who were obliged to supply their want of\ntitle by the vigor of their administration. The French monarch had need\nof some great and respected authority to throw a veil over his\nusurpation, and to sanctify his newly acquired power by those names and\nappearances which are necessary to make it respectable to the people. On\nthe other hand, the Pope, who hated the Grecian Empire, and equally\nfeared the success of the Lombards, saw with joy this new star arise in\nthe North, and gave it the sanction of his authority. Presently after be\ncalled it to his assistance. Pepin passed the Alps, relieved the Pope,\nand invested him with the dominion of a large country in the best part\nof Italy.\n\nCharlemagne pursued the course which was marked out for him, and put an\nend to the Lombard kingdom, weakened by the policy of his father and the\nenmity of the Popes, who never willingly saw a strong power in Italy.\nThen he received from the hand of the Pope the Imperial crown,\nsanctified by the authority of the Holy See, and with it the title of\nEmperor of the Romans, a name venerable from the fame of the old Empire,\nand which was supposed to carry great and unknown prerogatives; and thus\nthe Empire rose again out of its ruins in the West, and, what is\nremarkable, by means of one of those nations which had helped to destroy\nit. If we take in the conquests of Charlemagne, it was also very near as\nextensive as formerly; though its constitution was altogether different,\nas being entirely on the Northern model of government. From Charlemagne\nthe Pope received in return an enlargement and a confirmation of his new\nterritory. Thus the Papal and Imperial powers mutually gave birth, to\neach other. They continued for some ages, and in some measure still\ncontinue, closely connected, with a variety of pretensions upon each\nother, and on the rest of Europe.\n\nThough, the Imperial power had its origin in France, it was soon divided\ninto two branches, the Gallic and the German. The latter alone supported\nthe title of Empire; but the power being weakened by this division, the\nPapal pretensions had the greater weight. The Pope, because he first\nrevived the Imperial dignity, claimed a right of disposing of it, or at\nleast of giving validity to the election of the Emperor. The Emperor, on\nthe other hand, remembering the rights of those sovereigns whose title\nhe bore, and how lately the power which insulted him with such demands\nhad arisen from the bounty of his predecessors, claimed the same\nprivileges in the election of a Pope. The claims of both were somewhat\nplausible; and they were supported, the one by force of arms, and the\nother by ecclesiastical influence, powers which in those days were very\nnearly balanced. Italy was the theatre upon which this prize was\ndisputed. In every city the parties in favor of each of the opponents\nwere not far from an equality in their numbers and strength. Whilst\nthese parties disagreed in the choice of a master, by contending for a\nchoice in their subjection they grew imperceptibly into freedom, and\npassed through the medium of faction and anarchy into regular\ncommonwealths. Thus arose the republics of Venice, of Genoa, of\nFlorence, Sienna, and Pisa, and several others. These cities,\nestablished in this freedom, turned the frugal and ingenious spirit\ncontracted in such communities to navigation and traffic; and pursuing\nthem with skill and vigor, whilst commerce was neglected and despised by\nthe rustic gentry of the martial governments, they grew to a\nconsiderable degree of wealth, power, and civility.\n\nThe Danes, who in this latter time preserved the spirit and the numbers\nof the ancient Gothic people, had seated themselves in England, in the\nLow Countries, and in Normandy. They passed from thence to the southern\npart of Europe, and in this romantic age gave rise in Sicily and Naples\nto a new kingdom and a new line of princes.\n\nAll the kingdoms on the continent of Europe were governed nearly in the\nsame form; from whence arose a great similitude in the manners of their\ninhabitants. The feodal discipline extended itself everywhere, and\ninfluenced the conduct of the courts and the manners of the people with\nits own irregular martial spirit. Subjects, under the complicated laws\nof a various and rigorous servitude, exercised all the prerogatives of\nsovereign power. They distributed justice, they made war and peace at\npleasure. The sovereign, with great pretensions, had but little power;\nhe was only a greater lord among great lords, who profited of the\ndifferences of his peers; therefore no steady plan could be well\npursued, either in war or peace. This day a prince seemed irresistible\nat the head of his numerous vassals, because their duty obliged them to\nwar, and they performed this duty with pleasure. The next day saw this\nformidable power vanish like a dream, because this fierce undisciplined\npeople had no patience, and the time of the feudal service was contained\nwithin very narrow limits. It was therefore easy to find a number of\npersons at all times ready to follow any standard, but it was hard to\ncomplete a considerable design which required a regular and continued\nmovement. This enterprising disposition in the gentry was very general,\nbecause they had little occupation or pleasure but in war, and the\ngreatest rewards did then attend personal valor and prowess. All that\nprofessed arms became in some sort on an equality. A knight was the peer\nof a king, and men had been used to see the bravery of private persons\nopening a road to that dignity. The temerity of adventurers was much\njustified by the ill order of every state, which left it a prey to\nalmost any who should attack it with sufficient vigor. Thus, little\nchecked by any superior power, full of fire, impetuosity, and ignorance,\nthey longed to signalize themselves, wherever an honorable danger called\nthem; and wherever that invited, they did not weigh very deliberately\nthe probability of success.\n\nThe knowledge of this general disposition in the minds of men will\nnaturally remove a great deal of our wonder at seeing an attempt founded\non such slender appearances of right, and supported by a power so little\nproportioned to the undertaking as that of William, so warmly embraced\nand so generally followed, not only by his own subjects, but by all the\nneighboring potentates. The Counts of Anjou, Bretagne, Ponthieu,\nBoulogne, and Poictou, sovereign princes,--adventurers from every\nquarter of France, the Netherlands, and the remotest parts of Germany,\nlaying aside their jealousies and enmities to one another, as well as to\nWilliam, ran with an inconceivable ardor into this enterprise,\ncaptivated with the splendor of the object, which obliterated all\nthoughts of the uncertainty of the event. William kept up this fervor\nby promises of large territories to all his allies and associates in the\ncountry to be reduced by their united efforts. But after all it became\nequally necessary to reconcile to his enterprise the three great powers\nof whom we have just spoken, whose disposition must have had the most\ninfluence on his affairs.\n\nHis feudal lord, the King of France, was bound by his most obvious\ninterests to oppose the further aggrandizement of one already too potent\nfor a vassal. But the King of France was then a minor; and Baldwin, Earl\nof Flanders, whose daughter William had married, was regent of the\nkingdom. This circumstance rendered the remonstrance of the French\nCouncil against his design of no effect: indeed, the opposition of the\nCouncil itself was faint; the idea of having a king under vassalage to\ntheir crown might have dazzled the more superficial courtiers; whilst\nthose who thought more deeply were unwilling to discourage an enterprise\nwhich they believed would probably end in the ruin of the undertaker.\nThe Emperor was in his minority, as well as the King of France; but by\nwhat arts the Duke prevailed upon the Imperial Council to declare in his\nfavor, whether or no by an idea of creating a balance to the power of\nFrance, if we can imagine that any such idea then subsisted, is\naltogether uncertain; but it is certain that he obtained leave for the\nvassals of the Empire to engage in his service, and that he made use of\nthis permission. The Popes consent was obtained with still less\ndifficulty. William had shown himself in many instances a friend to the\nChurch and a favorer of the clergy. On this occasion he promised to\nimprove those happy beginnings in proportion to the means he should\nacquire by the favor of the Holy See. It is said that he even proposed\nto hold his new kingdom as a fief from Rome. The Pope, therefore,\nentered heartily into his interests; he excommunicated all those that\nshould oppose his enterprise, and sent him, as a means of insuring\nsuccess, a consecrated banner.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nREIGN OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1065.]\n\nAfter the Battle of Hastings, the taking of Dover, the surrender of\nLondon, and the submission of the principal nobility, William had\nnothing left but to order in the best manner the kingdom he had so\nhappily acquired. Soon after his coronation, fearing the sudden and\nungoverned motions of so great a city, new to subjection, he left London\nuntil a strong citadel could be raised to overawe the people. This was\nbuilt where the Tower of London now stands. Not content with this, he\nbuilt three other strong castles in situations as advantageously chosen,\nat Norwich, at Winchester, and at Hereford, securing not only the heart\nof affairs, but binding down the extreme parts of the kingdom. And as he\nobserved from his own experience the want of fortresses in England, he\nresolved fully to supply that defect, and guard the kingdom both against\ninternal and foreign enemies. But he fortified his throne yet more\nstrongly by the policy of good government. To London he confirmed by\ncharter the liberties it had enjoyed under the Saxon kings, and\nendeavored to fix the affections of the English in general by governing\nthem with equity according to their ancient laws, and by treating them\non all occasions with the most engaging deportment. He set up no\npretences which arose from absolute conquest. He confirmed their estates\nto all those who had not appeared in arms against him, and seemed not to\naim at subjecting the English to the Normans, but to unite the two\nnations under the wings of a common parental care. If the Normans\nreceived estates and held lucrative offices and were raised by wealthy\nmatches in England, some of the English were enriched with lands and\ndignities and taken into considerable families in Normandy. But the\nking's principal regards were showed to those by whose bravery he had\nattained his greatness. To some he bestowed the forfeited estates, which\nwere many and great, of Harold's adherents; others he satisfied from the\ntreasures his rival had amassed; and the rest, quartered upon wealthy\nmonasteries, relied patiently on the promises of one whose performances\nhad hitherto gone hand in hand with his power. There was another\ncircumstance which conduced much to the maintaining, as well as to the\nmaking, his conquest. The posterity of the Danes, who had finally\nreduced England under Canute the Great, were still very numerous in that\nkingdom, and in general not well liked by nor well affected to the old\nAnglo-Saxon inhabitants. William wisely took advantage of this enmity\nbetween the two sorts of inhabitants, and the alliance of blood which\nwas between them and his subjects. In the body of laws which he\npublished he insists strongly on this kindred, and declares that the\nNormans and Danes ought to be as sworn brothers against all men: a\npolicy which probably united these people to him, or at least so\nconfirmed the ancient jealousy which subsisted between them and the\noriginal English as to hinder any cordial union against his interests.\n\nWhen the king had thus settled his acquisitions by all the methods of\nforce and policy, he thought it expedient to visit his patrimonial\nterritory, which, with regard to its internal state, and the jealousies\nwhich his additional greatness revived in many of the bordering princes,\nwas critically situated. He appointed to the regency in his absence his\nbrother Odo, an ecclesiastic, whom he had made Bishop of Bayeux, in\nFrance, and Earl of Kent, with great power and preeminence, in\nEngland,--a man bold, fierce, ambitious, full of craft, imperious, and\nwithout faith, but well versed in all affairs, vigilant, and courageous.\nTo him he joined William Fitz-Osbern, his justiciary, a person of\nconsummate prudence and great integrity. But not depending on this\ndisposition, to secure his conquest, as well as to display its\nimportance abroad, under a pretence of honor, he carried with him all\nthe chiefs of the English nobility, the popular Earls Edwin and Morcar,\nand, what was of most importance, Edgar Atheling, the last branch of the\nroyal stock of the Anglo-Saxon kings, and infinitely dear to all the\npeople.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1607.]\n\nThe king managed his affairs abroad with great address, and covered, all\nhis negotiations for the security of his Norman dominions under the\nmagnificence of continual feasting and unremitted diversion, which,\nwithout an appearance of design, displayed his wealth and power, and by\nthat means facilitated his measures. But whilst he was thus employed,\nhis absence from England gave an opportunity to several humors to break\nout, which the late change had bred, but which the amazement likewise\nproduced by that violent change, and the presence of their conqueror,\nwise, vigilant, and severe, had hitherto repressed. The ancient line of\ntheir kings displaced, the only thread on which it hung carried out of\nthe kingdom and ready to be cut off by the jealousy of a merciless\nusurper, their liberties none by being precarious, and the daily\ninsolencies and rapine of the Normans intolerable,--these discontents\nwere increased by the tyranny and rapaciousness of the regent, and they\nwere fomented from abroad by Eustace, Count of Boulogne. But the people,\nthough ready to rise in all parts, were destitute of leaders, and the\ninsurrections actually made were not carried on in concert, nor directed\nto any determinate object; so that the king, returning speedily, and\nexerting himself everywhere with great vigor, in a short time dissipated\nthese ill-formed projects. However, so general a dislike to William's\ngovernment had appeared on this occasion, that he became in his turn\ndisgusted with his subjects, and began to change his maxims of rule to a\nrigor which was more conformable to his advanced age and the sternness\nof his natural temper. He resolved, since he could not gain the\naffections of his subjects, to find such matter for their hatred as\nmight weaken them, and fortify his own authority against the enterprises\nwhich that hatred might occasion. He revived the tribute of Danegelt, so\nodious from its original cause and that of its revival, which he caused\nto be strictly levied throughout the kingdom. He erected castles at\nNottingham, at Warwick, and at York, and filled them with Norman\ngarrisons. He entered into a stricter inquisition for the discovery of\nthe estates forfeited on his coming in; paying no regard to the\nprivileges of the ecclesiastics, he seized upon the treasures which, as\nin an inviolable asylum, the unfortunate adherents to Harold had\ndeposited in monasteries. At the same time he entered into a resolution\nof deposing all the English, bishops, on none of whom he could rely, and\nfilling their places with Normans. But he mitigated the rigor of these\nproceedings by the wise choice he made in filling the places of those\nwhom he had deposed, and gave by that means these violent changes the\nair rather of reformation than oppression. He began with Stigand,\nArchbishop of Canterbury. A synod was called, in which, for the first\ntime in England, the Pope's legate _a latere_ is said to have presided.\nIn this council, Stigand, for simony and for other crimes, of which it\nis easy to convict those who are out of favor, was solemnly degraded\nfrom his dignity. The king filled his place with Lanfranc, an Italian.\nBy his whole conduct he appeared resolved to reduce his subjects of all\norders to the most perfect obedience.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1068.]\n\nThe people, loaded with new taxes, the nobility, degraded and\nthreatened, the clergy, deprived of their immunities and influence,\njoined in one voice of discontent, and stimulated each other to the most\ndesperate resolutions. The king was not unapprised of these motions, nor\nnegligent of them. It is thought he meditated to free himself from much\nof his uneasiness by seizing those men on whom the nation in its\ndistresses used to cast its eyes for relief. But whilst he digested\nthese measures, Edgar Atheling, Edwin and Morcar, Waltheof, the son of\nSiward, and several others, eluded his vigilance, and escaped into Scot\nland, where they were received with open arms by King Malcolm. The\nScottish monarch on this occasion married the sister of Edgar; and this\nmatch engaged him more closely to the accomplishment of what his\ngratitude to the Saxon kings and the rules of good policy had before\ninclined him. He entered at last into the cause of his brother-in-law\nand the distressed English. He persuaded the King of Denmark to enter\ninto the same measures, who agreed to invade England with a fleet of a\nthousand ships. Drone, an Irish king, declared in their favor, and\nsupplied the sons of Earl Godwin with vessels and men, with which they\nheld the English coast in continual alarms.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1069.]\n\nWhilst the forces of this powerful confederacy were collecting on all\nsides, and prepared to enter England, equal dangers threatened from\nwithin the kingdom. Edric the Forester, a very brave and popular Saxon,\ntook up arms in the counties of Hereford and Salop, the country of the\nancient Silures, and inhabited by the same warlike and untamable race of\nmen. The Welsh strengthened him with their forces, and Cheshire joined\nin the revolt. Hereward le Wake, one of the most brave and indefatigable\nsoldiers of his time, rushed with a numerous band of fugitives and\noutlaws from the fens of Lincoln and the Isle of Ely, from whence,\nprotected by the situation of the place, he had for some time carried on\nan irregular war against the Normans. The sons of Godwin landed with a\nstrong body in the West; the fire of rebellion ran through the kingdom;\nCornwall, Devon, Dorset, at once threw off the yoke. Daily skirmishes\nwere fought in every part of the kingdom, with various success and with\ngreat bloodshed. The Normans retreated to their castles, which the\nEnglish had rarely skill or patience to master; out of these they\nsallied from time to time, and asserted their dominion. The conquered\nEnglish for a moment resumed their spirit; the forests and morasses,\nwith which this island then, abounded, served them for fortifications,\nand their hatred to the Normans stood in the place of discipline; each\nman, exasperated by his own wrongs, avenged them in his own manner.\nEverything was full of blood and violence: murders, burnings, rapine,\nand confusion overspread the whole kingdom. During these distractions,\nseveral of the Normans quitted the country, and gave up their\npossessions, which they thought not worth holding in continual horror\nand danger.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1070.]\n\nIn the midst of this scene of disorder, the king alone was present to\nhimself and to his affairs. He first collected all the forces on whom he\ncould depend within the kingdom, and called powerful succors from\nNormandy. Then he sent a strong body to repress the commotions in the\nWest; but he reserved the greatest force and his own presence against\nthe greatest danger, which menaced from the North. The Scots had\npenetrated as far as Durham; they had taken the castle, and put the\ngarrison to the sword. A like fate attended York from the Danes, who had\nentered the Humber with a formidable fleet. They put this city into the\nhands of the English malcontents, and thereby influenced all the\nnorthern counties in their favor. William, when he first perceived the\ngathering of the storm, endeavored, and with some success, to break the\nforce of the principal blow by a correspondence at the court of\nDenmark; and now he entirely blunted the weapon by corrupting, with a\nconsiderable sum, the Danish general. It was agreed, to gratify that\npiratical nation, that they should plunder some part of the coast, and\ndepart without further disturbance. By this negotiation the king was\nenabled to march with an undissipated force against the Scots and the\nprincipal body of the English. Everything yielded. The Scots retired\ninto their own country. Some of the most obnoxious of the English fled\nalong with them. One desperate party, under the brave Waltheof, threw\nthemselves into York, and ventured alone to resist his victorious army.\nWilliam pressed the siege with vigor, and, notwithstanding the prudent\ndispositions of Waltheof, and the prodigies of valor he displayed in its\ndefence, standing alone in the breach, and maintaining his ground\ngallantly and successfully, the place was at last reduced by famine. The\nking left his enemies no time to recover this disaster; he followed his\nblow, and drove all who adhered to Edgar Atheling out of all the\ncountries northward of the Humber. This tract he resolved entirely to\ndepopulate, influenced by revenge, and by distrust of the inhabitants,\nand partly with a view of opposing an hideous desert of sixty miles in\nextent as an impregnable barrier against all attempts of the Scots in\nfavor of his disaffected subjects. The execution of this barbarous\nproject was attended with all the havoc and desolation that it seemed to\nthreaten. One hundred thousand are said to have perished by cold,\npenury, and disease. The ground lay untilled throughout that whole space\nfor upwards of nine years. Many of the inhabitants both of this and all\nother parts of England fled into Scotland; but they were so received by\nKing Malcolm as to forget that they had lost their country. This wise\nmonarch gladly seized so fair an opportunity, by the exertion of a\nbenevolent policy, to people his dominions, and to improve his native\nsubjects. He received the English nobility according to their rank, he\npromoted them to offices according to their merit, and enriched them by\nconsiderable estates from his own demesne. From these noble refugees\nseveral considerable families in Scotland are descended.\n\nWilliam, on the other hand, amidst all the excesses which the insolence\nof victory and the cruel precautions of usurped authority could make him\ncommit, gave many striking examples of moderation and greatness of mind.\nHe pardoned Waltheof, whose bravery he did not the less admire because\nit was exerted against himself. He restored him to his ancient honors\nand estates; and thinking his family strengthened by the acquisition of\na gallant man, he bestowed upon him his niece Judith in marriage. On\nEdric the Forester, who lay under his sword, in the same generous manner\nhe not only bestowed his life, but honored it with an addition of\ndignity.\n\nThe king, having thus, by the most politic and the most courageous\nmeasures, by art, by force, by severity, and by clemency, dispelled\nthose clouds which had gathered from every quarter to overwhelm him,\nreturned triumphant to Winchester, where, as if he had newly acquired\nthe kingdom, he was crowned with great solemnity. After this he\nproceeded to execute the plan he had long proposed of modelling the\nstate according to his own pleasure, and of fixing his authority upon an\nimmovable foundation.\n\nThere were few of the English who in the late disturbances had not\neither been active against the Normans or shown great disinclination to\nthem. Upon some right, or some pretence, the greatest part of their\nlands were adjudged to be forfeited. William gave these lands to\nNormans, to be held by the tenure of knight-service, according to the\nlaw which modified that service in all parts of Europe. These people he\nchose because he judged they must be faithful to the interest on which\nthey depended; and this tenure he chose because it raised an army\nwithout expense, called it forth at the least warning, and seemed to\nsecure the fidelity of the vassal by the multiplied ties of those\nservices which were inseparably annexed to it. In the establishment of\nthese tenures, William only copied the practice which was now become\nvery general. One fault, however, he seems to have committed in this\ndistribution: the immediate vassals of the crown were too few; the\ntenants _in capite_ at the end of this reign did not exceed seven\nhundred; the eyes of the subject met too many great objects in the state\nbesides the state itself; and the dependence of the inferior people was\nweakened by the interposal of another authority between them and the\ncrown, and this without being at all serviceable to liberty. The ill\nconsequence of this was not so obvious whilst the dread of the English\nmade a good correspondence between the sovereign and the great vassals\nabsolutely necessary; but it afterwards appeared, and in a light very\noffensive to the power of our kings.\n\nAs there is nothing of more consequence in a state than the\necclesiastical establishment, there was nothing to which this vigilant\nprince gave more of his attention. If he owed his own power to the\ninfluence of the clergy, it convinced him how necessary it was to\nprevent that engine from being employed in its turn against himself. He\nobserved, that, besides the influence they derived from their character,\nthey had a vast portion of that power which always attends property. Of\nabout sixty thousand knights' fees, which England was then judged to\ncontain, twenty-eight thousand were in the hands of the clergy; and\nthese they held discharged of all taxes, and free from every burden of\ncivil or military service: a constitution undoubtedly no less\nprejudicial to the authority of the state than detrimental to the\nstrength of the nation, deprived of so much revenue, so many soldiers,\nand of numberless exertions of art and industry, which were stifled by\nholding a third of the soil in dead hands out of all possibility of\ncirculation. William in a good measure remedied these evils, but with\nthe great offence of all the ecclesiastic orders. At the same time that\nhe subjected the Church lands to military service, he obliged each\nmonastery and bishopric to the support of soldiers, in proportion to the\nnumber of knights' fees that they possessed. No less jealous was he of\nthe Papal pretensions, which, having favored so long as they served him\nas the instruments of his ambition, he afterwards kept within very\nnarrow bounds. He suffered no communication with Rome but by his\nknowledge and approbation. He had a bold and ambitious Pope to deal\nwith, who yet never proceeded to extremities with nor gained one\nadvantage over William during his whole reign,--although he had by an\nexpress law reserved to himself a sort of right in approving the Pope\nchosen, by forbidding his subjects to yield obedience to any whose right\nthe king had not acknowledged.\n\nTo form a just idea of the power and greatness of this king, it will be\nconvenient to take a view of his revenue. And I the rather choose to\ndwell a little upon this article, as nothing extends to so many objects\nas the public finances, and consequently nothing puts in a clearer or\nmore decisive light the manners of the people, and the form, as well as\nthe powers, of government at any period.\n\nThe first part of this consisted of the demesne. The lands of the crown\nwere, even before the Conquest, very extensive. The forfeitures\nconsequent to that great change had considerably increased them. It\nappears from the record of Domesday, that the king retained in his own\nhands no fewer than fourteen hundred manors. This alone was a royal\nrevenue. However, great as it really was, it has been exaggerated beyond\nall reason. Ordericus Vitalis, a writer almost contemporary, asserts\nthat this branch alone produced a thousand pounds a day,[72]--which,\nvaluing the pound, as it was then estimated, at a real pound of silver,\nand then allowing for the difference in value since that time, will make\nnear twelve millions of our money. This account, coming from such an\nauthority, has been copied without examination by all the succeeding\nhistorians. If we were to admit the truth of it, we must entirely change\nour ideas concerning the quantity of money which then circulated in\nEurope. And it is a matter altogether monstrous and incredible in an age\nwhen there was little traffic in this nation, and the traffic of all\nnations circulated but little real coin, when the tenants paid the\ngreatest part of their rents in kind, and when it may be greatly\ndoubted whether there was so much current money in the nation as is said\nto have come into the king's coffers from this one branch, of his\nrevenue only. For it amounts to a twelfth part of all the circulating\nspecies which a trade infinitely more extensive has derived from sources\ninfinitely more exuberant, to this wealthy nation, in this improved age.\nNeither must we think that the whole revenue of this prince ever rose to\nsuch a sum. The great fountain which fed his treasury must have been\nDanegelt, which, upon any reasonable calculation, could not possibly\nexceed 120,000_l._ of our money, if it ever reached that sum. William\nwas observed to be a great hoarder, and very avaricious; his army was\nmaintained without any expense to him, his demesne supported his\nhousehold; neither his necessary nor his voluntary expenses were\nconsiderable. Yet the effects of many years' scraping and hoarding left\nat his death but 60,000_l._,--not the sixth part of one year's income,\naccording to this account, of one branch of his revenue; and this was\nthen esteemed a vast treasure. Edgar Atheling, on being reconciled to\nthe king, was allowed a mark a day for his expenses, and he was thought\nto be allowed sufficiently, though he received it in some sort as an\nequivalent for his right to the crown. I venture on this digression,\nbecause writers in an ignorant age, making guesses at random, impose on\nmore enlightened times, and affect by their mistakes many of our\nreasonings on affairs of consequence; and it is the error of all\nignorant people to rate unknown times, distances, and sums very far\nbeyond their real extent. There is even something childish and whimsical\nin computing this revenue, as the original author has done, at so much\na day. For my part, I do not imagine it so difficult to come at a pretty\naccurate decision of the truth or falsehood of this story.\n\nThe above-mentioned manors are charged with rents from five to an\nhundred pounds each. The greatest number of those I have seen in print\nare under fifty; so that we may safely take that number as a just\nmedium; and then the whole amount of the demesne rents will be\n70,000_l._, or 210,000_l._ of our money. This, though almost a fourth\nless than the sum stated by Vitalis, still seems a great deal too high,\nif we should suppose the whole sum, as that author does, to be paid in\nmoney, and that money to be reckoned by real pounds of silver. But we\nmust observe, that, when sums of money are set down in old laws and\nrecords, the interpretation of those words, pounds and shillings, is for\nthe most part oxen, sheep, corn, and provision. When real coin money was\nto be paid, it was called white money, or _argentum album_, and was only\nin a certain stipulated proportion to what was rendered in kind, and\nthat proportion generally very low. This method of paying rent, though\nit entirely overturns the prodigious idea of that monarch's pecuniary\nwealth, was far from being less conducive to his greatness. It enabled\nhim to feed a multitude of people,--one of the surest and largest\nsources of influence, and which always outbuys money in the traffic of\naffections. This revenue, which was the chief support of the dignity of\nour Saxon kings, was considerably increased by the revival of Danegelt,\nof the imposition of which we have already spoken, and which is supposed\nto have produced an annual income of 40,000_l._ of money, as then\nvalued.\n\nThe nest branch of the king's revenue were the feudal duties, by him\nfirst introduced into England,--namely, ward, marriage, relief, and\naids. By the first, the heir of every tenant who held immediately from\nthe crown, during his minority, was in ward for his body and his land to\nthe king; so that he had the formation of his mind at that early and\nductile age to mould to his own purposes, and the entire profits of his\nestate either to augment his demesne or to gratify his dependants: and\nas we have already seen how many and how vast estates, or rather,\nprincely possessions, were then held immediately of the crown, we may\ncomprehend how important an article this must have been.\n\nThough the heir had attained his age before the death of his ancestor,\nyet the king intruded between him and his inheritance, and obliged him\nto redeem, or, as the term then was, to relieve it. The quantity of this\nrelief was generally pretty much at the king's discretion, and often\namounted to a very great sum.\n\nBut the king's demands on his rents in chief were not yet satisfied. He\nhad a right and interest in the marriage of heirs, both males and\nfemales, virgins and widows,--and either bestowed them at pleasure on\nhis favorites, or sold them to the best bidder. The king received for\nthe sale of one heiress the sum of 20,000_l._, or 60,000_l._ of our\npresent money,--and this at a period when the chief estates were much\nreduced. And from hence was derived a great source of revenue, if this\nright were sold,--of influence and attachment, if bestowed.\n\nUnder the same head of feudal duties were the casual aids to knight his\neldest son and marry his eldest daughter. These duties could be paid but\nonce, and, though not considerable, eased him in these articles of\nexpenses.\n\nAfter the feudal duties, rather in the order than in point of value, was\nthe profit which arose from the sale of justice. No man could then sue\nin the king's court by a common or public right, or without paying\nlargely for it,--sometimes the third, and sometimes even half, the value\nof the estate or debt sued for. These presents were called oblations;\nand the records preceding Magna Charta, and for some time after, are\nfull of them. And, as the king thought fit, this must have added greatly\nto his power or wealth, or indeed to both.\n\nThe fines and amercements were another branch, and this, at a time when\ndisorders abounded, and almost every disorder was punished by a fine,\nwas a much greater article than at first could readily be imagined,---\nespecially when we consider that there were no limitations in this point\nbut the king's mercy, particularly in all offences relating to the\nforest, which were of various kinds, and very strictly inquired into.\nThe sale of offices was not less considerable. It appears that all\noffices at that time were, or might be, legally and publicly sold,--that\nthe king had many and very rich employments in his gift, and, though it\nmay appear strange, not inferior to, if they did not exceed, in number\nand consequence, those of our present establishment. At one time the\ngreat seal was sold for three thousand marks. The office of sheriff was\nthen very lucrative: this charge was almost always sold. Sometimes a\ncounty paid a sum to the king, that he might appoint a sheriff whom they\nliked; sometimes they paid as largely to prevent him from appointing a\nperson disagreeable to them; and thus the king had often from the same\noffice a double profit in refusing one candidate and approving the\nother. If some offices were advantageous, others were burdensome; and\nthe king had the right, or was at least in the unquestioned practice, of\nforcing his subjects to accept these employments, or to pay for there\nimmunity; by which means he could either punish his enemies or augment\nhis wealth, as his avarice or his resentments prevailed.\n\nThe greatest part of the cities and trading towns were under his\nparticular jurisdiction, and indeed in a state not far removed from\nslavery. On these he laid a sort of imposition, at such a time and in\nsuch a proportion as he thought fit. This was called a _tallage_. If the\ntowns did not forthwith pay the sum at which they were rated, it was not\nunusual, for their punishment, to double the exaction, and to proceed in\nlevying it by nearly the same methods and in the same manner now used to\nraise a contribution in an enemy's country.\n\nBut the Jews were a fund almost inexhaustible. They were slaves to the\nking in the strictest sense; insomuch that, besides the various tallages\nand fines extorted from them, none succeeded to the inheritance of his\nfather without the king's license and an heavy composition. He sometimes\neven made over a wealthy Jew as a provision to some of his favorites for\nlife. They were almost the only persons who exercised usury, and thus\ndrew to themselves the odium and wealth of the whole kingdom; but they\nwere only a canal, through which it passed to the royal treasury. And\nnothing could be more pleasing and popular than such exactions: the\npeople rejoiced, when they saw the Jews plundered,--not considering\nthat they were a sort of agents for the crown, who, in proportion to the\nheavy taxes they paid, were obliged to advance the terms and enforce\nwith greater severity the execution of their usurious contracts. Through\nthem almost the whole body of the nobility were in 'debt to the king;\nand when he thought proper to confiscate the effects of the Jews, the\nsecurities passed into his hands; and by this means he must have\npossessed one of the strongest and most terrible instruments of\nauthority that could possibly be devised, and the best calculated to\nkeep the people in an abject and slavish dependence.\n\nThe last general head of his revenue were the customs, prisages, and\nother impositions upon trade. Though the revenue arising from traffic in\nthis rude period was much limited by the then smallness of its object,\nthis was compensated by the weight and variety of the exactions levied\nby an occasional exertion of arbitrary power, or the more uniform system\nof hereditary tyranny. Trade was restrained, or the privilege granted,\non the payment of tolls, passages, paages, pontages, and innumerable\nother vexatious imposts, of which, only the barbarous and almost\nunintelligible names subsist at this day.\n\nThese were the most constant and regular branches of the revenue. But\nthere were other ways innumerable by which money, or an equivalent in\ncattle, poultry, horses, hawks, and dogs, accrued to the exchequer. The\nking's interposition in marriages, even where there was no pretence from\ntenure, was frequently bought, as well as in other negotiations of less\nmoment, for composing of quarrels, and the like; and, indeed, some\nappear on the records, of so strange and even ludicrous a nature, that\nit would not be excusable to mention them, if they did not help to show\nfrom how many minute sources this revenue was fed, and how the king's\npower descended to the most inconsiderable actions of private life.[73]\nIt is not easy to penetrate into the true meaning of all these\nparticulars, but they equally suffice to show the character of\ngovernment in those times. A prince furnished with so many means of\ndistressing enemies and gratifying friends, and possessed of so ample a\nrevenue entirely independent of the affections of his subjects, must\nhave been very absolute in substance and effect, whatever might have\nbeen the external forms of government.\n\nFor the regulation of all these revenues, and for determining all\nquestions which concerned them, a court was appointed, upon the model of\na court of the same nature, said to be of ancient use in Normandy, and\ncalled the Exchequer.\n\nThere was nothing in the government of William conceived in a greater\nmanner, or more to be commended, than the general survey he took of his\nconquest. An inquisition was made throughout the kingdom concerning the\nquantity of land which was contained in each county,--the name of the\ndeprived and the present proprietor,--the stock of slaves, and cattle of\nevery kind, which it contained. All these were registered in a book,\neach article beginning with the king's property, and proceeding\ndownward, according to the rank of the proprietors, in an excellent\norder, by which might be known at one glance the true state of the royal\nrevenues, the wealth, consequence, and natural connections of every\nperson in the kingdom,--in order to ascertain the taxes that might be\nimposed, and, to serve purposes in the state as well as in civil causes,\nto be general and uncontrollable evidence of property. This book is\ncalled Domesday or the Judgment Book, and still remains a grand monument\nof the wisdom of the Conqueror,--a work in all respects useful and\nworthy of a better age.\n\nThe Conqueror knew very well how much discontent must have arisen from\nthe great revolutions which his conquest produced in all men's property,\nand in the general tenor of the government. He, therefore, as much as\npossible to guard against every sudden attempt, forbade any light or\nfire to continue in any house after a certain bell, called curfew, had\nsounded. This bell rung at about eight in the evening. There was policy\nin this; and it served to prevent the numberless disorders which arose\nfrom the late civil commotions.\n\nFor the same purpose of strengthening his authority, he introduced the\nNorman law, not only in its substance, but in all its forms, and ordered\nthat all proceedings should be had according to that law in the French\nlanguage.[74] The change wrought by the former part of this regulation\ncould not have been very grievous; and it was partly the necessary\nconsequence of the establishment of the new tenures, and which wanted a\nnew law to regulate them: in other respects the Norman institutions were\nnot very different from the English. But to force, against nature, a new\nlanguage upon a conquered people, to make them, strangers in those\ncourts of justice in which they were still to retain a considerable\nshare, to be reminded, every time they had recourse to government for\nprotection, of the slavery in which it held them,--this is one of those\nacts of superfluous tyranny from which very few conquering nations or\nparties have forborne, though no way necessary, but often prejudicial to\ntheir safety.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1071.]\n\nThese severities, and affronts more galling than severities, drove the\nEnglish to another desperate attempt, which was the last convulsive\neffort of their expiring freedom. Several nobles, prelates, and others,\nwhose estates had been confiscated, or who were in daily apprehension of\ntheir confiscation, fled into the fens of Lincoln and Ely, where\nHereward still maintained his ground. This unadvised step completed the\nruin of the little English interest that remained. William hastened to\nfill up the sees of the bishops and the estates of the nobles with his\nNorman favorites. He pressed the fugitives with equal vivacity; and at\nonce to cut off all the advantage they derived from their situation, he\npenetrated into the Isle of Ely by a wooden bridge two miles in length;\nand by the greatness of the design, and rapidity of the execution, as\nmuch as by the vigor of his charge, compelled them to surrender at\ndiscretion. Hereward alone escaped, who disdained to surrender, and had\ncut his way through his enemies, carrying his virtue and his sword, as\nhis passports, wheresoever fortune should conduct him. He escaped\nhappily into Scotland, where, as usual, the king was making some slow\nmovements for the relief of the English. William lost no time to oppose\nhim, and had passed with infinite difficulty through a desert of his own\nmaking to the frontiers of Scotland. Here he found the enemy strongly\nintrenched. The causes of the war being in a good measure spent by\nWilliam's late successes, and neither of the princes choosing to risk a\nbattle in a country where the consequences of a defeat must be so\ndreadful, they agreed to an accommodation, which included a pardon for\nEdgar Atheling on a renunciation of his title to the crown. William on\nthis occasion showed, as he did on all occasions, an honorable and\ndisinterested sense of merit, by receiving Hereward to his friendship,\nand distinguishing him by particular favors and bounties. Malcolm, by\nhis whole conduct, never seemed intent upon coming to extremities with\nWilliam: he was satisfied with keeping this great warrior in some awe,\nwithout bringing things to a decision, that might involve his kingdom in\nthe same calamitous fate that had oppressed England; whilst his wisdom\nenabled him to reap advantages from the fortunes of the conquered, in\ndrawing so many useful people into his dominions, and from the policy of\nthe Conqueror, in imitating those feudal regulations which he saw his\nneighbor force upon the English, and which appeared so well calculated\nfor the defence of the kingdom. He compassed this the more easily,\nbecause the feudal policy, being the discipline of all the considerable\nstates in Europe, appeared the masterpiece of government.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1073.]\n\nIf men who have engaged in vast designs could ever promise themselves\nrepose, William, after so many victories, and so many political\nregulations to secure the fruit of them, might now flatter himself with\nsome hope of quiet. But disturbances were preparing for his old age from\na new quarter, from whence they were less expected and less\ntolerable,--from the Normans, his companions in victory, and from his\nfamily, which he found not less difficulty in governing than his\nkingdom. Nothing but his absence from England was wanting to make the\nflame blaze out. The numberless petty pretensions which the petty lords\nhis neighbors on the continent had on each other and on William,\ntogether with their restless disposition and the intrigues of the French\ncourt, kept alive a constant dissension, which made the king's presence\non the continent frequently necessary. The Duke of Anjou had at this\ntime actually invaded his dominions. He was obliged to pass over into\nNormandy with an army of fifty thousand men. William, who had conquered\nEngland by the assistance of the princes on the continent, now turned\nagainst them the arms of the English, who served him with bravery and\nfidelity; and by their means he soon silenced all opposition, and\nconcluded the terms of an advantageous peace. In the mean time his\nNorman subjects in England, inconstant, warlike, independent, fierce by\nnature, fiercer by their conquest, could scarcely brook that\nsubordination in which their safety consisted. Upon some frivolous\npretences, chiefly personal disgusts,[75] a most dangerous conspiracy\nwas formed: the principal men among the Normans were engaged in it; and\nforeign correspondence was not wanting. Though this conspiracy was\nchiefly formed and carried on by the Normans, they knew so well the use\nwhich William on this occasion would not fail to make of his English\nsubjects, that they endeavored, as far as was consistent with secrecy,\nto engage several of that nation, and above all, the Earl Waltheof, as\nthe first in rank and reputation among his countrymen. Waltheof,\nthinking it base to engage in any cause but that of his country against\nhis benefactor, unveils the whole design to Lanfranc, who immediately\ntook measures for securing the chief conspirators. He dispatched\nmessengers to inform the king of his danger, who returned without delay\nat the head of his forces, and by his presence, and his usual bold\nactivity, dispersed at once the vapors of this conspiracy. The heads\nwere punished. The rest, left under the shade of a dubious mercy, were\nawed into obedience. His glory was, however, sullied by his putting to\ndeath Waltheof, who had discovered the conspiracy; but he thought the\ndesire the rebels had shown of engaging him in their designs\ndemonstrated sufficiently that Waltheof still retained a dangerous\npower. For as the years, so the suspicions, of this politic prince\nincreased,--at whose time of life generosity begins to appear no more\nthan a splendid weakness.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1079]\n\nThese troubles were hardly appeased, when others began to break forth in\nhis own family, which neither his glory, nor the terror which held a\ngreat nation in chains, could preserve in obedience to him. To remove in\nsome measure the jealousy of the court of France with regard to his\ninvasion of England, he had promised upon his acquisition of that\nkingdom to invest his eldest son, Robert, with the Duchy of Normandy.\nBut as his new acquisition did not seem so secure as it was great and\nmagnificent, he was far from any thoughts of resigning his hereditary\ndominions, which he justly considered as a great instrument in\nmaintaining his conquests, and a necessary retreat, if he should be\ndeprived of them by the fortune of war. So long as the state of his\naffairs in England appeared unsettled, Robert acquiesced in the\nreasonableness of this conduct; but when he saw his father established\non his throne, and found himself growing old in an inglorious\nsubjection, he began first to murmur at the injustice of the king, soon\nafter to cabal with the Norman barons and at the court of France, and at\nlast openly rose in rebellion, and compelled the vassals of the Duchy to\ndo him homage. The king was not inclined to give up to force what he had\nrefused to reason. Unbroken with age, unwearied with so many\nexpeditions, he passed again into Normandy, and pressed his son with the\nvigor of a young warrior.\n\nThis war, which was carried on without anything decisive for some time,\nended by a very extraordinary and affecting incident. In one of those\nskirmishes which were frequent according to the irregular mode of\nwarfare in those days, William and his son Robert, alike in a forward\nand adventurous courage, plunged into the thickest of the fight, and\nunknowingly encountered each other. But Robert, superior by fortune, or\nby the vigor of his youth, wounded and unhorsed the old monarch, and was\njust on the point of pursuing his unhappy advantage to the fatal\nextremity, when the well-known voice of his father at once struck his\nears and suspended his arm. Blushing for his victory, and overwhelmed\nwith the united emotions of grief, shame, and returning piety, he fell\non his knees, poured out a flood of tears, and, embracing his father,\nbesought him for pardon. The tide of nature returning strongly on both,\nthe father in his turn embraced his son, and bathed him with his tears;\nwhilst the combatants on either side, astonished at so unusual a\nspectacle, suspended the fight, applauded this striking act of filial\npiety and paternal tenderness, and pressed that it might become the\nprelude to a lasting peace. Peace was made, but entirely to the\nadvantage of the father, who carried his son into England, to secure\nNormandy from the dangers to which his ambition and popularity might\nexpose that dukedom.\n\nThat William might have peace upon no part, the Welsh and Scots took\nadvantage of these troubles in his family to break into England: but\ntheir expeditions were rather incursions than invasions: they wasted the\ncountry, and then retired to secure their plunder. But William, always\ntroubled, always in action, and always victorious, pursued them and\ncompelled them to a peace, which was not concluded but by compelling the\nKing of Scotland and all the princes of Wales to do him homage. How far\nthis homage extended with regard to Scotland I find it difficult to\ndetermine.\n\nRobert, who had no pleasure but in action, as soon as this war was\nconcluded, finding that he could not regain his father's confidence, and\nthat he had no credit at the court of England, retired to that of\nFrance. Edgar Atheling saw likewise that the innocence of his conduct\ncould not make amends for the guilt of an undoubted title to the crown,\nand that the Conqueror, soured by continual opposition, and suspicious\nthrough age and the experience of mankind, regarded him with an evil\neye. He therefore desired leave to accompany Robert out of the kingdom,\nand then to make a voyage to the Holy Land. This leave was readily\ngranted. Edgar, having displayed great valor in useless acts of chivalry\nabroad, after the Conqueror's death returned to England, where he long\nlived in great tranquillity, happy in himself, beloved by all the\npeople, and unfeared by those who held his sceptre, from his mild and\ninactive virtue.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1084.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1087.]\n\nWilliam had been so much a stranger to repose that it became no longer\nan object desirable to him. He revived his claim, to the Vexin Fran\u00e7ais,\nand some other territories on the confines of Normandy. This quarrel,\nwhich began, between him and the King of France on political motives,\nwas increased into rancor and bitterness, first, by a boyish contest at\nchess between their children, which was resented, more than became wise\nmen, by the fathers; it was further exasperated by taunts and mockeries\nyet less becoming their age and dignity, but which infused a mortal\nvenom into the war. William entered first into the French territories,\nwantonly wasting the country, and setting fire to the towns and\nvillages. He entered Mantes, and as usual set it on fire; but whilst he\nurged his horse over the smoking ruins, and pressed forward to further\nhavoc, the beast, impatient of the hot embers which burned his hoofs,\nplunged and threw his rider violently on the saddle-bow. The rim of his\nbelly was wounded; and this wound, as William was corpulent and in the\ndecline of life, proved fatal. A rupture ensued, and he died at Rouen,\nafter showing a desire of making amends for his cruelty by restitutions\nto the towns he had destroyed, by alms and endowments, the usual fruits\nof a late penitence, and the acknowledgments which expiring ambition\npays to virtue.\n\nThere is nothing more memorable in history than the actions, fortunes,\nand character of this great man,--whether we consider the grandeur of\nthe plans he formed, the courage and wisdom with which they were\nexecuted, or the splendor of that success which, adorning his youth,\ncontinued without the smallest reverse to support his age, even to the\nlast moments of his life. He lived above seventy years, and reigned\nwithin ten years as long as he lived, sixty over his dukedom, above\ntwenty over England,--both of which he acquired or kept by his own\nmagnanimity, with hardly any other title than he derived from his arms:\nso that he might be reputed, in all respects, as happy as the highest\nambition, the most fully gratified, can make a man. The silent inward\nsatisfactions of domestic happiness he neither had nor sought. He had a\nbody suited to the character of his mind, erect, firm, large, and\nactive, whilst to be active was a praise,--a countenance stern, and\nwhich became command. Magnificent in his living, reserved in his\nconversation, grave in his common deportment, but relaxing with a wise\nfacetiousness, he knew how to relieve his mind and preserve his dignity:\nfor he never forfeited by a personal acquaintance that esteem he had\nacquired by his great actions. Unlearned in books, he formed his\nunderstanding by the rigid discipline of a large and complicated\nexperience. He knew men much, and therefore generally trusted them but\nlittle; but when he knew any man to be good, he reposed in him an entire\nconfidence, which prevented his prudence from degenerating into a vice.\nHe had vices in his composition, and great ones; but they were the vices\nof a great mind: ambition, the malady of every extensive genius,--and\navarice, the madness of the wise: one chiefly actuated his youth,--the\nother governed his age. The vices of young and light minds, the joys of\nwine and the pleasures of love, never reached his aspiring nature. The\ngeneral run of men he looked on with contempt, and treated with cruelty\nwhen they opposed him. Nor was the rigor of his mind to be softened but\nwith the appearance of extraordinary fortitude in his enemies, which, by\na sympathy congenial to his own virtues, always excited his admiration\nand insured his mercy. So that there were often seen in this one man, at\nthe same time, the extremes of a savage cruelty, and a generosity that\ndoes honor to human nature. Religion, too, seemed to have a great\ninfluence on his mind, from policy, or from better motives; but his\nreligion was displayed in the regularity with which he performed its\nduties, not in the submission he showed to its ministers, which was\nnever more than what good government required. Yet his choice of a\ncounsellor and favorite was, not according to the mode of the time, out\nof that order, and a choice that does honor to his memory. This was\nLanfranc, a man of great learning for the times, and extraordinary\npiety. He owed his elevation to William; but though always inviolably\nfaithful, he never was the tool or flatterer of the power which raised\nhim; and the greater freedom he showed, the higher he rose in the\nconfidence of his master. By mixing with the concerns of state he did\nnot lose his religion and conscience, or make them the covers or\ninstruments of ambition; but tempering the fierce policy of a new power\nby the mild lights of religion, he became a blessing to the country in\nwhich he was promoted. The English owed to the virtue of this stranger,\nand the influence he had on the king, the little remains of liberty they\ncontinued to enjoy, and at last such a degree of his confidence as in\nsome sort counterbalanced the severities of the former part of his\nreign.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[72] I have known, myself, great mistakes in calculation by computing,\nas the produce of every day in the year, that of one extraordinary day.\n\n[73] The Bishop of Winchester fined for not putting the king in mind to\ngive a girdle to the Countess of Albemarle.--Robertus de Vallibus debet\nquinque optimos palafredos, ut rex taceret de uxore Henrici Pinel.--The\nwife of Hugh do Nevil fined in two hundred hens, that she might lie\nwith, her husband for one night; another, that he might rise from, his\ninfirmity; a third, that he might eat.\n\n[74] For some particulars of the condition of the English of this time,\nvide Eadmer, p. 110.\n\n[75] Upon occasion of a ward refused in marriage. Wright thinks the\nfeudal right of marriage not then introduced.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nREIGN OF WILLIAM THE SECOND, SURNAMED RUFUS.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1087.]\n\nWilliam had by his queen Matilda three sons, who survived him,--Robert,\nWilliam, and Henry. Robert, though in an advanced age at his father's\ndeath, was even then more remarkable for those virtues which make us\nentertain hopes of a young man than for that steady prudence which is\nnecessary when the short career we are to run will not allow us to make\nmany mistakes. He had, indeed, a temper suitable to the genius of the\ntime he lived in, and which therefore enabled him to make a considerable\nfigure in the transactions which distinguished that period. He was of a\nsincere, open, candid nature; passionately fond of glory; ambitious,\nwithout having any determinate object in view; vehement in his pursuits,\nbut inconstant; much in war, which he understood and loved. But guiding\nhimself, both in war and peace, solely by the impulses of an unbounded\nand irregular spirit, he filled the world with an equal admiration and\npity of his splendid qualities and great misfortunes. William was of a\ncharacter very different. His views were short, his designs few, his\ngenius narrow, and his manners brutal; full of craft, rapacious, without\nfaith, without religion; but circumspect, steady, and courageous for his\nends, not for glory. These qualities secured to him that fortune which\nthe virtues of Robert deserved. Of Henry we shall speak hereafter.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1088.]\n\nWe have seen the quarrels, together with the causes of them, which\nembroiled the Conqueror with his eldest son, Robert. Although the wound\nwas skinned over by several temporary and palliative accommodations, it\nstill left a soreness in the father's mind, which influenced him by his\nlast will to cut off Robert from the inheritance of his English\ndominions. Those he declared he derived from his sword, and therefore he\nwould dispose of them, to that son whose dutiful behavior had made him\nthe most worthy. To William, therefore, he left his crown; to Henry he\ndevised his treasures: Robert possessed nothing but the Duchy, which was\nhis birthright. William had some advantages to enforce the execution of\na bequest which was not included even in any of the modes of succession\nwhich then were admitted. He was at the time of his father's death in\nEngland, and had an opportunity of seizing the vacant government, a\nthing of great moment in all disputed rights. He had also, by his\npresence, an opportunity of engaging some of the most considerable\nleading men in his interests. But his greatest strength was derived from\nthe adherence to his cause of Lanfranc, a prelate of the greatest\nauthority amongst the English as well as the Normans, both from the\nplace he had held in the Conqueror's esteem, whose memory all men\nrespected, and from his own great and excellent qualities. By the\nadvice of this prelate the new monarch professed to be entirely\ngoverned. And as an earnest of his future reign, he renounced all the\nrigid maxims of conquest, and swore to protect the Church and the\npeople, and to govern by St. Edward's Laws,--a promise extremely\ngrateful and popular to all parties: for the Normans, finding the\nEnglish passionately desirous of these laws, and only knowing that they\nwere in general favorable to liberty and conducive to peace and order,\nbecame equally clamorous for their re\u00ebstablishment. By these measures,\nand the weakness of those which were adopted by Robert, William\nestablished himself on his throne, and suppressed a dangerous conspiracy\nformed by some Norman noblemen in the interests of his brother, although\nit was fomented by all the art and intrigue which his uncle Odo could\nput in practice, the most bold and politic man of that age.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1089.]\n\nThe security he began to enjoy from this success, and the strength which\ngovernment receives by merely continuing, gave room to his natural\ndispositions to break out in several acts of tyranny and injustice. The\nforest laws were executed with rigor, the old impositions revived, and\nnew laid on. Lanfranc made representations to the king on this conduct,\nbut they produced no other effect than the abatement of his credit,\nwhich from that moment to his death, which happened soon after, was very\nlittle in the government. The revenue of the vacant see was seized into\nthe king's hands. When the Church lands were made subject to military\nservice, they seemed to partake all the qualities of the military\ntenure, and to be subject to the same burdens; and as on the death of a\nmilitary vassal his land was in wardship of the lord until the heir had\nattained his age, so there arose a pretence, on the vacancy of a\nbishopric, to suppose the land in ward with the king until the seat\nshould be filled. This principle, once established, opened a large field\nfor various lucrative abuses; nor could it be supposed, whilst the\nvacancy turned to such good account, that a necessitous or avaricious\nking would show any extraordinary haste to put the bishoprics and\nabbacies out of his power. In effect, William always kept them a long\ntime vacant, and in the vacancy granted away much of their possessions,\nparticularly several manors belonging to the see of Canterbury; and when\nhe filled this see, it was only to prostitute that dignity by disposing\nof it to the highest bidder.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1093.]\n\nTo support him in these courses he chose for his minister Ralph\nFlambard, a fit instrument in his designs, and possessed of such art and\neloquence as to color them in a specious manner. This man inflamed all\nthe king's passions, and encouraged him in his unjust enterprises. It is\nhard to say which was most unpopular, the king or his minister. But\nFlambard, having escaped a conspiracy against his life, and having\npunished the conspirators severely, struck such a general terror into\nthe nation, that none dared to oppose him. Robert's title alone stood in\nthe king's way, and he knew that this must be a perpetual source of\ndisturbance to him. He resolved, therefore, to put him in peril for his\nown dominions. He collected a large army, and entering into Normandy, he\nbegan a war, at first with great success, on account of a difference\nbetween the Duke and his brother Henry. But their common dread of\nWilliam reconciled them; and this reconciliation put them in a condition\nof procuring an equal peace, the chief conditions of which were, that\nRobert should be put in possession of certain seigniories in England,\nand that each, in case of survival, should succeed to the other's\ndominions. William concluded this peace the more readily, because\nMalcolm, King of Scotland, who hung over him, was ready upon every\nadvantage to invade his territories, and had now actually entered\nEngland with a powerful army. Robert, who courted action, without\nregarding what interest might have dictated, immediately on concluding\nthe treaty entered into his brother's service in this war against the\nScots; which, on the king's return, being in appearance laid asleep by\nan accommodation, broke out with redoubled fury the following year. The\nKing of Scotland, provoked to this rupture by the haughtiness of\nWilliam, was circumvented by the artifice and fraud of one of his\nministers: under an appearance of negotiation, he was attacked and\nkilled, together with his only son. This was a grievous wound to\nScotland, in the loss of one of the wisest and bravest of her kings, and\nin the domestic distractions which afterwards tore that kingdom to\npieces.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1094.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1096.]\n\nNo sooner was this war ended, than William, freed from an enemy which\nhad given himself and his father so many alarms, renewed his ill\ntreatment of his brother, and refused to abide by the terms of the late\ntreaty. Robert, incensed at these repeated perfidies, returned to\nNormandy with thoughts full of revenge and war. But he found that the\nartifices and bribes of the King of England had corrupted the greatest\npart of his barons, and filled the country with faction and disloyalty.\nHis own facility of temper had relaxed all the bands of government, and\ncontributed greatly to these disorders. In this distress he was obliged\nto have recourse to the King of France for succor. Philip, who was then\non the throne, entered into his quarrel. Nor was William, on his side,\nbackward; though prodigal to the highest degree, the resources of his\ntyranny and extortion were inexhaustible. He was enabled to enter\nNormandy once more with a considerable army. But the opposition, too,\nwas considerable; and the war had probably been spun out to a great\nlength, and had drawn on very bloody consequences, if one of the most\nextraordinary events which are contained in the history of mankind had\nnot suspended their arms, and drawn, all inferior views, sentiments, and\ndesigns into the vortex of one grand project. This was the Crusade,\nwhich, with astonishing success, now began to be preached through all\nEurope. This design was then, and it continued long after, the principle\nwhich influenced the transactions of that period both at home and\nabroad; it will, therefore, not be foreign to our subject to trace it to\nits source.\n\nAs the power of the Papacy spread, the see of Rome began to be more and\nmore an object of ambition; the most refined intrigues were put in\npractice to attain it; and all the princes of Europe interested\nthemselves in the contest. The election of Pope was not regulated by\nthose prudent dispositions which have since taken place; there were\nfrequent pretences to controvert the validity of the election, and of\ncourse several persons at the same time laid claim to that dignity.\nPopes and Antipopes arose. Europe was rent asunder by these disputes,\nwhilst some princes maintained the rights of one party, and some\ndefended the pretensions of the other: sometimes the prince acknowledged\none Pope, whilst his subjects adhered to his rival. The scandals\noccasioned by these schisms were infinite; and they threatened a deadly\nwound to that authority whose greatness had occasioned them. Princes\nwere taught to know their own power. That Pope who this day was a\nsuppliant to a monarch to be recognized by him could with an ill grace\npretend to govern him with an high hand the next. The lustre of the Holy\nSee began to be tarnished, when Urban the Second, after a long contest\nof this nature, was universally acknowledged. That Pope, sensible by his\nown experience of the ill consequence of such disputes, sought to turn\nthe minds of the people into another channel, and by exerting it\nvigorously to give a new strength to the Papal power. In an age so\nignorant, it was very natural that men should think a great deal in\nreligion depended upon the very scene where the work of our Redemption\nwas accomplished. Pilgrimages to Jerusalem were therefore judged highly\nmeritorious, and became very frequent. But the country which was the\nobject of them, as well as several of those through which the journey\nlay, were in the hands of Mahometans, who, against all the rules of\nhumanity and good policy, treated the Christian pilgrims with great\nindignity. These, on their return, filled the minds of their neighbors\nwith hatred and resentment against those infidels. Pope Urban laid hold\non this disposition, and encouraged Peter the Hermit, a man visionary,\nzealous, enthusiastic, and possessed of a warm irregular eloquence\nadapted to the pitch of his hearers, to preach an expedition for the\ndelivery of the Holy Land.\n\nGreat designs may be started and the spirit of them inspired by\nenthusiasts, but cool heads are required to bring them into form. The\nPope, not relying solely on Peter, called a council at Clermont, where\nan infinite number of people of all sorts were assembled. Here he\ndispensed with a full hand benedictions and indulgences to all persons\nwho should engage in the expedition; and preaching with great vehemence\nin a large plain, towards the end of his discourse, somebody, by design\nor by accident, cried out, \"It is the will of God!\" This voice was\nrepeated by the next, and in a moment it circulated through this\ninnumerable people, which rang with the acclamation of \"It is the will\nof God! It is the will of God!\"[76] The neighboring villages caught up\nthose oracular words, and it is incredible with what celerity they\nspread everywhere around into places the most distant. This\ncircumstance, then considered as miraculous, contributed greatly to the\nsuccess of the Hermit's mission. No less did the disposition of the\nnobility throughout Europe, wholly actuated with devotion and chivalry,\ncontribute to forward an enterprise so suited to the gratification of\nboth these passions. Everything was now in motion; both sexes, and every\nstation and age and condition of life, engaged with transport in this\nholy warfare.[77] There was even a danger that Europe would be entirely\nexhausted by the torrents that were rushing out to deluge Asia. These\nvast bodies, collected without choice, were conducted without skill or\norder; and they succeeded accordingly. Women and children composed no\nsmall part of those armies, which were headed by priests; and it is\nhard to say which is most lamentable, the destruction of such multitudes\nof men, or the frenzy which drew it upon them. But this design, after\ninnumerable calamities, began at last to be conducted in a manner worthy\nof so grand and bold a project. Raimond, Count of Toulouse, Godfrey of\nBouillon, and several other princes, who were great captains as well as\ndevotees, engaged in the expedition, and with suitable effects. But none\nburned more to signalize his zeal and courage on this occasion than\nRobert, Duke of Normandy, who was fired with the thoughts of an\nenterprise which seemed to be made for his genius. He immediately\nsuspended his interesting quarrel with his brother, and, instead of\ncontesting with him the crown to which he had such fair pretensions, or\nthe duchy of which he was in possession, he proposed to mortgage to him\nthe latter during five years for a sum of thirteen thousand marks of\ngold. William, who had neither sense of religion nor thirst of glory,\nintrenched in his secure and narrow policy, laughed at a design that had\ndeceived all the great minds in Europe. He extorted, as usual, this sum\nfrom his subjects, and immediately took possession of Normandy; whilst\nRobert, at the head of a gallant army, leaving his hereditary dominions,\nis gone to cut out unknown kingdoms in Asia.\n\nSome conspiracies disturbed the course of the reign, or rather tyranny,\nof this prince: as plots usually do, they ended in the ruin of those who\ncontrived them, but proved no check to the ill government of William.\nSome disturbances, too, he had from the incursions of the Welsh, from\nrevolts in Normandy, and from a war, that began and ended without\nanything memorable either in the cause or consequence, with France.\n\nHe had a dispute at home which at another time had raised great\ndisturbances; but nothing was now considered but the expedition to the\nHoly Land. After the death of Lanfranc, William omitted for a long time\nto fill up that see, and had even alienated a considerable portion of\nthe revenue. A fit of sickness, however, softened his mind; and the\nclergy, taking advantage of those happy moments, among other parts of\nmisgovernment which they advised him to correct, particularly urged him\nto fill the vacant sees. He filled that of Canterbury with Anselm,\nBishop of Bec, a man of great piety and learning, but inflexible and\nrigid in whatever related to the rights, real or supposed, of the\nChurch. This prelate refused to accept the see of Canterbury, foreseeing\nthe troubles that must arise from his own dispositions and those of the\nking; nor was he prevailed upon to accept it, but on a promise of\nindemnification for what the temporalities of the see had suffered. But\nWilliam's sickness and pious resolutions ending together, little care\nwas taken about the execution of this agreement. Thus began a quarrel\nbetween this rapacious king and inflexible archbishop. Soon after,\nAnselm declared in favor of Pope Urban, before the king had recognized\nhim, and thus subjected himself to the law which William the Conqueror\nhad made against accepting a Pope without his consent. The quarrel was\ninflamed to the highest pitch; and Anselm desiring to depart the\nkingdom, the king consented.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1100.]\n\nThe eyes of all men being now turned towards the great transactions in\nthe East, William, Duke of Guienne, fired by the success and glory that\nattended the holy adventurers, resolved to take the cross; but his\nrevenues were not sufficient to support the figure his rank required in\nthis expedition. He applied to the King of England, who, being master of\nthe purses of his subjects, never wanted money; and he was politician\nenough to avail himself of the prodigal, inconsiderate zeal of the times\nto lay out this money to great advantage. He acted the part of usurer to\nthe Croises; and as he had taken Normandy in mortgage from his brother\nRobert, having advanced the Duke of Guienne a sum on the same\nconditions, he was ready to confirm his bargain by taking possession,\nwhen he was killed in hunting by an accidental stroke of an arrow which\npierced his heart. This accident happened in the New Forest, which his\nfather with such infinite oppression of the people had made, and in\nwhich they both delighted extremely. In the same forest the Conqueror's\neldest son, a youth of great hopes, had several years before met his\ndeath from the horns of a stag; and these so memorable fates to the same\nfamily and in the same place easily inclined men to think this a\njudgment from Heaven: the people consoling themselves under their\nsufferings with these equivocal marks of the vengeance of Providence\nupon their oppressors.\n\nWe have painted this prince in the colors in which he is drawn by all\nthe writers who lived the nearest to his time. Although the monkish\nhistorians, affected with the partiality of their character, and with\nthe sense of recent injuries, expressed themselves with passion\nconcerning him, we have no other guides to follow. Nothing, indeed, in\nhis life appears to vindicate his character; and it makes strongly for\nhis disadvantage, that, without any great end of government, he\ncontradicted the prejudices of the age in which he lived, the general\nand common foundation of honor, and thereby made himself obnoxious to\nthat body of men who had the sole custody of fame, and could alone\ntransmit his name with glory or disgrace to posterity.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[76] Maimbourg.\n\n[77] Chron. Sax. 204.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nREIGN OF HENRY I.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1100.]\n\nHenry, the youngest son of the Conqueror, was hunting at the same time\nand in the same forest in which his brother met his fate. He was not\nlong before he came to a resolution of seizing on the vacant crown. The\norder of succession had already been broken; the absence of Duke Robert,\nand the concurrence of many circumstances altogether resembling those\nwhich had been so favorable to the late monarch, incited him to a\nsimilar attempt. To lose no time at a juncture when the use of a moment\nis often decisive, he went directly to Winchester, where the regalia and\nthe treasures of the crown were deposited. But the governor, a man of\nresolution, and firmly attached to Robert, positively refused to deliver\nthem. Henry, conscious that great enterprises are not to be conducted in\na middle course, prepared to reduce him by force of arms. During this\ncontest, the news of the king's death, and the attempts of Henry, drew\ngreat numbers of the nobility to Winchester, and with them a vast\nconcourse of the inferior people. To the nobility he set forth his\ntitle to the crown in the most plausible manner it could bear: he\nalleged that he was born after his father had acquired his kingdom, and\nthat he was therefore natural heir of the crown; but that his brother\nwas, at best, only born to the inheritance of a dukedom. The nobility\nheard the claim of this prince; but they were more generally inclined to\nRobert, whose birthright, less questionable in itself, had been also\nconfirmed by a solemn treaty. But whilst they retired to consult, Henry,\nwell apprised of their dispositions, and who therefore was little\ninclined to wait the result of their debates, threw himself entirely\nupon the populace. To them he said little concerning his title, as he\nknew such an audience is little moved with a discussion of rights, but\nmuch with the spirit and manner in which they are claimed; for which\nreason he began by drawing his sword, and swearing, with a bold and\ndetermined air, to persist in his pretensions to his last breath. Then\nturning to the crowd, and remitting of his severity, he began to soothe\nthem with the promises of a milder government than they had experienced\neither beneath his brother or his father; the Church should enjoy her\nimmunities, the people their liberties, the nobles their pleasures; the\nforest laws should cease; the distinction of Englishman and Norman be\nheard no more. Next he expatiated on the grievances of the former\nreigns, and promised to redress them all. Lastly, he spoke of his\nbrother Robert, whose dissoluteness, whose inactivity, whose unsteady\ntemper, nay, whose very virtues, threatened nothing but ruin to any\ncountry which he should govern. The people received this popular\nharangue, delivered by a prince whose person was full of grace and\nmajesty, with shouts of joy and rapture. Immediately they rush to the\nhouse where the council is held, which they surround, and with clamor\nand menaces demand Henry for their king. The nobility were terrified by\nthe sedition; and remembering how little present Robert had been on a\nformer occasion to his own interests, or to those who defended him, they\njoined their voice to that of the people, and Henry was proclaimed\nwithout opposition. The treasure which he seized he divided amongst\nthose that seemed wavering in his cause; and that he might secure his\nnew and disputed right by every method, he proceeded without delay to\nLondon to be crowned, and to sanctify by the solemnity of the unction\nthe choice of the people. As the churchmen in those days were the\narbiters of everything, and as no churchman possessed more credit than\nAnselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had been persecuted and banished\nby his brother, he recalled that prelate, and by every mark of\nconfidence confirmed him in his interests. Two other steps he took,\nequally prudent and politic: he confirmed and enlarged the privileges of\nthe city of London, and gave to the whole kingdom a charter of\nliberties, which was the first of the kind, and laid the foundation of\nthose successive charters which at last completed the freedom of the\nsubject. In fine, he cemented the whole fabric of his power by marrying\nMaud, daughter of Malcolm, King of Scotland, by the sister of Edgar\nAtheling,--thus to insure the affection, of the English, and, as he\nflattered himself, to have a sure succession to his children.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1101.]\n\nThe Crusade being successfully finished by the taking of Jerusalem,\nRobert returned into Europe. He had acquired great reputation in that\nwar, in which he had no interest; his real and valuable rights he\nprosecuted with languor. Yet such was the respect paid to his title, and\nsuch the attraction of his personal accomplishments, that, when he had\nat last taken possession of his Norman territories, and entered England\nwith an army to assert his birthright, he found most of the Norman\nbarons, and many of the English, in readiness to join him. But the\ndiligence of Anselm, who employed all his credit to keep the people firm\nto the oath they had taken, prevented him from profiting of the general\ninclination in his favor. His friends began to fall off by degrees, so\nthat he was induced, as well by the situation of his affairs as the\nflexibility of his temper, to submit to a treaty on the plan of that he\nhad formerly entered into with his brother Rufus.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1103.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1106.]\n\nThis treaty being made, Robert returned to his dukedom, and gave himself\nover to his natural indolence and dissipation. Uncured by his\nmisfortunes of a loose generosity that flowed indiscriminately on all,\nhe mortgaged every branch of his revenue, and almost his whole domain.\nHis barons, despising his indigence, and secure in the benignity of his\ntemper, began to assume the unhappy privilege of sovereigns. They made\nwar on each other at pleasure, and, pursuing their hostilities with the\nmost scandalous license, they reduced that fine country to a deplorable\ncondition. In vain did the people, ruined by the tyranny and divisions\nof the great, apply to Robert for protection: neither from his\ncircumstances nor his character was he able to afford them any effectual\nrelief; whilst Henry, who by his bribes and artifices kept alive the\ndisorder of which he complained and profited, formed a party in Normandy\nto call him over, and to put the dukedom under his protection.\nAccordingly, he prepared a considerable force for the expedition, and\ntaxed his own subjects, arbitrarily, and without mercy, for the relief\nhe pretended to afford those of his brother. His preparations roused\nRobert from his indolence, and united likewise the greater part of his\nbarons to his cause, unwilling to change a master whose only fault was\nhis indulgence of them for the severe vigilance of Henry. The King of\nFrance espoused the same side; and even in England some emotions were\nexcited in favor of the Duke by indignation for the wrongs he had\nsuffered and those he was going to suffer. Henry was alarmed, but did\nnot renounce his design. He was to the last degree jealous of his\nprerogative; but knowing what immense resources kings may have in\npopularity, he called on this occasion a great council of his barons and\nprelates, and there, by his arts and his eloquence, in both which he was\npowerful, he persuaded the assembly to a hearty declaration in his\nfavor, and to a large supply. Thus secured at home, he lost no time to\npass over to the continent, and to bring the Norman army to a speedy\nengagement. They fought under the walls of Tinchebrai, where the bravery\nand military genius of Robert, never more conspicuous than on that day,\nwere borne down by the superior fortune and numbers of his ambitious\nbrother. He was made prisoner; and notwithstanding all the tender pleas\nof their common blood, in spite of his virtues, and even of his\nmisfortunes, which pleaded so strongly for mercy, the rigid conqueror\nheld him in various prisons until his death, which did not happen until\nafter a rigorous confinement of eighteen, some say twenty-seven, years.\nThis was the end of a prince born with a thousand excellent qualities,\nwhich served no other purpose than to confirm, from the example of his\nmisfortunes, that a facility of disposition and a weak beneficence are\nthe greatest vices that can enter into the composition of a monarch,\nequally ruinous to himself and to his subjects.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1107.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1108.]\n\nThe success of this battle put Henry in possession of Normandy, which he\nheld ever after with very little disturbance. He fortified his new\nacquisition by demolishing the castles of those turbulent barons who had\nwasted and afterwards enslaved their country by their dissensions. Order\nand justice took place, until everything was reduced to obedience; then\na severe and regular oppression succeeded the former disorderly tyranny.\nIn England things took the same course. The king no longer doubted his\nfortune, and therefore no longer respected his promises or his charter.\nThe forests, the savage passion of the Norman princes, for which both\nthe prince and people paid so dearly, were maintained, increased, and\nguarded with laws more rigorous than before. Taxes were largely and\narbitrarily assessed. But all this tyranny did not weaken, though it\nvexed the nation, because the great men were kept in proper subjection,\nand justice was steadily administered.\n\nThe politics of this remarkable reign consisted of three branches: to\nredress the gross abuses which prevailed in the civil government and the\nrevenue, to humble the great barons, and keep the aspiring spirit of\nthe clergy within proper bounds. The introduction of a new law with a\nnew people at the Conquest had unsettled everything: for whilst some\nadhered to the Conqueror's regulations, and others contended for those\nof St. Edward, neither of them were well executed or properly obeyed.\nThe king, therefore, with the assistance of his justiciaries, compiled a\nnew body of laws, in order to find a temper between both. The coin had\nbeen miserably debased, but it was restored by the king's vigilance, and\npreserved by punishments, cruel, but terrifying in their example. There\nwas a savageness in all the judicial proceedings of those days, that\ngave even justice itself the complexion of tyranny: for whilst a number\nof men were seen in all parts of the kingdom, some castrated, some\nwithout hands, others with their feet cut off, and in various ways\ncruelly mangled, the view of a perpetual punishment blotted out the\nmemory of the transient crime, and government was the more odious,\nwhich, out of a cruel and mistaken mercy, to avoid punishing with death,\ndevised torments far more terrible than death itself.\n\nBut nothing called for redress more than the disorders in the king's own\nhousehold. It was considered as an incident annexed to their tenure,\nthat the socage vassals of the crown, and so of all the subordinate\nbarons, should receive their lord and all his followers, and supply them\nin their progresses and journeys, which custom continued for some ages\nafter in Ireland, under the name of _coshering_. But this indefinite and\nill-contrived charge on the tenant was easily perverted to an instrument\nof much oppression by the disorders of a rude and licentious court;\ninsomuch that the tenants, in fear for their substance, for the honor\nof their women, and often for their lives, deserted their habitations\nand fled into the woods on the king's approach. No circumstance could be\nmore dishonorable to a prince; but happily, like many other great\nabuses, it gave rise to a great reform, which went much further than its\nimmediate purposes. This disorder, which the punishment of offenders\ncould only palliate, was entirely taken away by commuting personal\nservice for a rent in money; which regulation, passing from the king to\nall the inferior lords, in a short time wrought a great change in the\nstate of the nation. To humble the great men, more arbitrary methods\nwere used. The adherence to the title of Robert was a cause, or a\npretence, of depriving many of their vast possessions, which were split\nor parcelled out amongst the king's creatures, with great injustice to\nparticulars, but in the consequences with general and lasting benefit.\nThe king held his courts, according to the custom, at Christmas and\nEaster, but he seldom kept both festivals in the same place. He made\ncontinual progresses into all parts of his kingdom, and brought the\nroyal authority and person home to the doors of his haughty barons,\nwhich kept them in strict obedience during his long and severe reign.\n\nHis contests with the Church, concerning the right of investiture, were\nmore obstinate and more dangerous. As this is an affair that troubled\nall Europe as well as England, and holds deservedly a principal place in\nthe story of those times, it will not be impertinent to trace it up to\nits original. In the early times of Christianity, when religion was only\ndrawn from its obscurity to be persecuted, when a bishop was only a\ncandidate for martyrdom, neither the preferment, nor the right of\nbestowing it, were sought with great ambition. Bishops were then\nelected, and often against their desire, by their clergy and the people:\nthe subordinate ecclesiastical districts were provided for in the same\nmanner. After the Roman Empire became Christian, this usage, so\ngenerally established, still maintained its ground. However, in the\nprincipal cities, the Emperor frequently exercised the privilege of\ngiving a sanction to the choice, and sometimes of appointing the bishop;\nthough, for the most part, the popular election still prevailed. But\nwhen, the Barbarians, after destroying the Empire, had at length\nsubmitted their necks to the Gospel, their kings and great men, full of\nzeal and gratitude to their instructors, endowed the Church with large\nterritories and great privileges. In this case it was but natural that\nthey should be the patrons of those dignities and nominate to that power\nwhich arose from their own free bounty. Hence the bishoprics in the\ngreatest part of Europe became in effect, whatever some few might have\nbeen in appearance, merely donative. And as the bishoprics formed so\nmany seigniories, when the feudal establishment was completed, they\npartook of the feudal nature, so far as they were subjects capable of\nit; homage and fealty were required on the part of the spiritual vassal;\nthe king, on his part, gave the bishop the investiture, or livery and\nseizin of his temporalities, by the delivery of a ring and staff. This\nwas the original manner of granting feudal property, and something like\nit is still practised in our base-courts. Pope Adrian confirmed this\nprivilege to Charlemagne by an express grant. The clergy of that time,\nignorant, but inquisitive, were very ready at finding types and\nmysteries in every ceremony: they construed the staff into an emblem of\nthe pastoral care, and the ring into a type of the bishop's allegorical\nmarriage to his church, and therefore supposed them designed as emblems\nof a jurisdiction merely spiritual. The Papal pretensions increased with\nthe general ignorance and superstition; and the better to support these\npretensions, it was necessary at once to exalt the clergy extremely,\nand, by breaking off all ties between them and their natural sovereigns,\nto attach them wholly to the Roman see. In pursuance of this project,\nthe Pope first strictly forbade the clergy to receive investitures from\nlaymen, or to do them homage. A council held at Rome entirely condemned\nthis practice; and the condemnation was the less unpopular, because the\ninvestiture gave rise to frequent and flagrant abuses, especially in\nEngland, where the sees were on this pretence with much scandal long\nheld in the king's hands, and afterwards as scandalously and publicly\nsold to the highest bidder. So it had been in the last reign, and so it\ncontinued in this.\n\nHenry, though vigorously attacked, with great resolution maintained the\nrights of his crown with regard to investitures, whilst he saw the\nEmperor, who claimed a right of investing the Pope himself, subdued by\nthe thunder of the Vatican. His chief opposition was within his own\nkingdom. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, a man of unblamable life, and\nof learning for his time, but blindly attached to the rights of the\nChurch, real or supposed, refused to consecrate those who received\ninvestitures from the king. The parties appealed to Rome. Rome,\nunwilling either to recede from her pretensions or to provoke a powerful\nmonarch, gives a dubious answer. Meanwhile the contest grows hotter.\nAnselm is obliged to quit the kingdom, but is still inflexible. At last,\nthe king, who, from the delicate situation of his affairs in the\nbeginning of his reign, had been obliged to temporize for a long time,\nby his usual prudent mixture of management with force obliged the Pope\nto a temperament which seemed extremely judicious. The king received\nhomage and fealty from his vassal; the investiture, as it was generally\nunderstood to relate to spiritual jurisdiction, was given up, and on\nthis equal bottom peace was established. The secret of the Pope's\nmoderation was this: he was at that juncture close pressed by the\nEmperor, and it might be highly dangerous to contend with two such\nenemies at once; and he was much more ready to yield to Henry, who had\nno reciprocal demands on him, than to the Emperor, who had many and just\nones, and to whom he could not yield any one point without giving up an\ninfinite number of others very material and interesting.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1120.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1127.]\n\nAs the king extricated himself happily from so great an affair, so all\nthe other difficulties of his reign only exercised, without endangering\nhim. The efforts of France in favor of the son of Robert were late,\ndesultory, and therefore unsuccessful. That youth, endued with equal\nvirtue and more prudence than his father, after exerting many useless\nacts of unfortunate bravery, fell in battle, and freed Henry from all\ndisturbance on the side of France. The incursions of the Welsh in this\nreign only gave him an opportunity of confining that people within\nnarrower bounds. At home he was well obeyed by his subjects; abroad he\ndignified his family by splendid alliances. His daughter Matilda he\nmarried to the Emperor. But his private fortunes did not flow with so\neven a course as his public affairs. His only son, William, with a\nnatural daughter, and many of the flower of the young nobility, perished\nat sea between Normandy and England. From that fatal accident the king\nwas never seen to smile. He sought in vain from a second marriage to\nprovide a male successor; but when he saw all prospect of this at an\nend, he called a great council of his barons and prelates. His daughter\nMatilda, after the decease of the Emperor, he had given in marriage to\nGeoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou. As she was his only remaining\nissue, he caused her to be acknowledged as his successor by the great\ncouncil; he enforced this acknowledgment by solemn oaths of fealty,--a\nsanction which he weakened rather than confirmed by frequent repetition:\nvainly imagining that on his death any ties would bind to the respect of\na succession so little respected by himself, and by the violation of\nwhich he had procured his crown. Having taken these measures in favor of\nhis daughter, he died in Normandy, but in a good old age, and in the\nthirty-sixth year of a prosperous reign.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nREIGN OF STEPHEN.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1135.]\n\nAlthough the authority of the crown had been exercised with very little\nrestraint during the three preceding reigns, the succession to it, or\neven the principles of the succession, were but ill ascertained: so that\na doubt might justly have arisen, whether the crown was not in a great\nmeasure elective. This uncertainty exposed the nation, at the death of\nevery king, to all the calamities of a civil war; but it was a\ncircumstance favorable to the designs of Stephen, Earl of Boulogne, who\nwas son of Stephen, Earl of Blois, by a daughter of the Conqueror. The\nlate king had raised him to great employments, and enriched him by the\ngrant of several lordships. His brother had been made Bishop of\nWinchester; and by adding to it the place of his chief justiciary, the\nking gave him an opportunity of becoming one of the richest subjects in\nEurope, and of extending an unlimited influence over the clergy and the\npeople. Henry trusted, by the promotion of two persons so near him in\nblood, and so bound by benefits, that he had formed an impenetrable\nfence about the succession; but he only inspired into Stephen the design\nof seizing on the crown by bringing him so near it. The opportunity was\nfavorable. The king died abroad; Matilda was absent with her husband;\nand the Bishop of Winchester, by his universal credit, disposed the\nchurchmen to elect his brother, with the concurrence of the greatest\npart of the nobility, who forgot their oaths, and vainly hoped that a\nbad title would necessarily produce a good government. Stephen, in the\nflower of youth, bold, active, and courageous, full of generosity and a\nnoble affability, that seemed to reproach the state and avarice of the\npreceding kings, was not wanting to his fortune. He seized immediately\nthe immense treasures of Henry, and by distributing them with a\njudicious profusion removed all doubts concerning his title to them. He\ndid not spare even the royal demesne, but secured himself a vast number\nof adherents by involving their guilt and interest in his own. He\nraised a considerable army of Flemings, in order to strengthen himself\nagainst another turn of the same instability which had raised him to the\nthrone; and, in imitation of the measures of the late king, he concluded\nall by giving a charter of liberties as ample as the people at that time\naspired to. This charter contained a renunciation of the forests made by\nhis predecessor, a grant to the ecclesiastics of a jurisdiction over\ntheir own vassals, and to the people in general an immunity from unjust\ntallages and exactions. It is remarkable, that the oath of allegiance\ntaken by the nobility on this occasion was conditional: it was to be\nobserved so long as the king observed the terms of his charter,--a\ncondition which added no real security to the rights of the subject, but\nwhich proved a fruitful source of dissension, tumult, and civil\nviolence.\n\nThe measures which the king hitherto pursued were dictated by sound\npolicy; but he took another step to secure his throne, which in fact\ntook away all its security, and at the same time brought the country to\nextreme misery, and to the brink of utter ruin.\n\nAt the Conquest there were very few fortifications in the kingdom.\nWilliam found it necessary for his security to erect several. During the\nstruggles of the English, the Norman nobility were permitted (as in\nreason it could not be refused) to fortify their own houses. It was,\nhowever, still understood that no new fortress could be erected without\nthe king's special license. These private castles began very early to\nembarrass the government. The royal castles were scarcely less\ntroublesome: for, as everything was then in tenure, the governor held\nhis place by the tenure of castle-guard; and thus, instead of a simple\nofficer, subject to his pleasure, the king had to deal with a feudal\ntenant, secure against him by law, if he performed his services, and by\nforce, if he was unwilling to perform them. Every resolution of\ngovernment required a sort of civil war to put it in execution. The two\nlast kings had taken, and demolished several of these castles; but when\nthey found the reduction, of any of them difficult, their custom\nfrequently was, to erect another close by it, tower against tower, ditch\nagainst ditch: these were called Malvoisins, from their purpose and\nsituation. Thus, instead of removing, they in fact doubled the mischief.\nStephen, perceiving the passion of the barons for these castles, among\nother popular acts in the beginning of his reign, gave a general license\nfor erecting them. Then was seen to arise in every corner of the\nkingdom, in every petty seigniory, an inconceivable multitude of\nstrongholds, the seats of violence, and the receptacles of murderers,\nfelons, debasers of the coin, and all manner of desperate and abandoned\nvillains. Eleven hundred and fifteen of these castles were built in this\nsingle reign. The barons, having thus shut out the law, made continual\ninroads upon each other, and spread war, rapine, burning, and desolation\nthroughout the whole kingdom. They infested the highroads, and put a\nstop to all trade by plundering the merchants and travellers. Those who\ndwelt in the open country they forced into their castles, and after\npillaging them of all their visible substance, these tyrants held them\nin dungeons, and tortured them with a thousand cruel inventions to\nextort a discovery of their hidden wealth. The lamentable representation\ngiven by history of those barbarous times justifies the pictures in the\nold romances of the castles of giants and magicians. A great part of\nEurope was in the same deplorable condition. It was then that some\ngallant spirits, struck with a generous indignation at the tyranny of\nthese miscreants, blessed solemnly by the bishop, and followed by the\npraises and vows of the people, sallied forth to vindicate the chastity\nof women and to redress the wrongs of travellers and peaceable men. The\nadventurous humor inspired by the Crusade heightened and extended this\nspirit; and thus the idea of knight-errantry was formed.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1138.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1139.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1141.]\n\nStephen felt personally these inconveniences; but because the evil was\ntoo stubborn to be redressed at once, he resolved to proceed gradually,\nand to begin with the castles of the bishops,--as they evidently held\nthem, not only against the interests of the crown, but against the\ncanons of the Church. From the nobles he expected no opposition to this\ndesign: they beheld with envy the pride of these ecclesiastical\nfortresses, whose battlements seemed to insult the poverty of the lay\nbarons. This disposition, and a want of unanimity among the clergy\nthemselves, enabled Stephen to succeed in his attempt against the Bishop\nof Salisbury, one of the first whom he attacked, and whose castles, from\ntheir strength and situation, were of the greatest importance. But the\naffairs of this prince were so circumstanced that he could pursue no\ncouncil that was not dangerous. His breach with the clergy let in the\nparty of his rival, Matilda. This party was supported by Robert, Earl of\nGloucester, natural son to the late king,--a man powerful by his vast\npossessions, but more formidable through his popularity, and the courage\nand abilities by which he had acquired it. Several other circumstances\nweakened the cause of Stephen. The charter, and the other favorable\nacts, the scaffolding of his ambition, when he saw the structure raised,\nhe threw down and contemned. In order to maintain his troops, as well as\nto attach men to his cause, where no principle bound them, vast and\ncontinual largesses became necessary: all his legal revenue had been\ndissipated; and he was therefore obliged to have recourse to such\nmethods of raising money as were evidently illegal. These causes every\nday gave some accession of strength to the party against him; the\nfriends of Matilda were encouraged to appear in arms; a civil war\nensued, long and bloody, prosecuted as chance or a blind rage directed,\nby mutual acts of cruelty and treachery, by frequent surprisals and\nassaults of castles, and by a number of battles and skirmishes fought to\nno determinate end, and in which nothing of the military art appeared,\nbut the destruction which it caused. Various, on this occasion, were the\nreverses of fortune, while Stephen, though embarrassed by the weakness\nof his title, by the scantiness of his finances, and all the disorders\nwhich arose from both, supported his tottering throne with wonderful\nactivity and courage; but being at length defeated and made prisoner\nunder the walls of Lincoln, the clergy openly declare for Matilda. The\ncity of London, though unwillingly, follows the example of the clergy.\nThe defection from Stephen was growing universal.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1153.]\n\nBut Matilda, puffed up with a greatness which as yet had no solid\nfoundation and stood merely in personal favor, shook it in the minds of\nall men by assuming, together with the insolence of conquest, the\nhaughty rigor of an established dominion. Her title appeared but too\ngood in the resemblance she bore to the pride of the former kings. This\nmade the first ill success in her affairs fatal. Her great support, the\nEarl of Gloucester, was in his turn made prisoner. In exchange for his\nliberty that of Stephen was procured, who renewed the war with his usual\nvigor. As he apprehended an attempt from Scotland in favor of Matilda,\ndescended from the blood royal of that nation, to balance this weight,\nhe persuaded the King of France to declare in his favor, alarmed as he\nwas by the progress of Henry, the son of Matilda, and Geoffrey, Count of\nAnjou. This prince, no more than sixteen years of age, after receiving\nknighthood from David, King of Scotland, began to display a courage and\ncapacity destined to the greatest things. Of a complexion which strongly\ninclined to pleasure, he listened to nothing but ambition; at an age\nwhich is usually given up to passion, he submitted delicacy to politics,\nand even in his marriage only remembered the interests of a\nsovereign,--for, without examining too scrupulously into her character,\nhe married Eleanor, the heiress of Guienne, though divorced from her\nhusband for her supposed gallantries in the Holy Land. He made use of\nthe accession of power which he acquired by this match to assert his\nbirthright to Normandy. This he did with great success, because he was\nfavored by the general inclination of the people for the blood of their\nancient lords. Flushed with this prosperous beginning, he aspired to\ngreater things; he obliged the King of France to submit to a truce; and\nthen he turned his arms to support the rights of his family in England,\nfrom whence Matilda retired, unequal to the troublesome part she had\nlong acted. Worn out with age, and the clashing of furious factions, she\nshut herself up in a monastery, and left to her son the succession of a\ncivil war. Stephen was now pressed with renewed vigor. Henry had rather\nthe advantage in the field; Stephen had the possession, of the\ngovernment. Their fortunes appearing nearly balanced, and the fuel of\ndissension being consumed by a continual and bloody war of thirteen\nyears, an accommodation was proposed and accepted. Henry found it\ndangerous to refuse his consent, as the bishops and barons, even of his\nown party, dreaded the consequences, if a prince, in the prime of an\nambitious youth, should establish an hereditary title by the force of\nforeign arms. This treaty, signed at Wallingford, left the possession of\nthe crown for his life to Stephen, but secured the succession to Henry,\nwhom that prince adopted. The castles erected in this reign were to be\ndemolished; the exorbitant grants of the royal demesne to be resumed. To\nthe son of Stephen all his private possessions were secured.\n\nThus ended this tedious and ruinous civil war. Stephen survived it near\ntwo years; and now, finding himself more secure as the lawful tenant\nthan he had been as the usurping proprietor of the crown, he no longer\ngoverned on the maxims of necessity. He made no new attempts in favor of\nhis family, but spent the remainder of his reign in correcting the\ndisorders which arose from his steps in its commencement, and in healing\nthe wounds of so long and cruel a war. Thus he left the kingdom in peace\nto his successor, but his character, as it is usual where party is\nconcerned, greatly disputed. Wherever his natural dispositions had room\nto exert themselves, they appeared virtuous and princely; but the lust\nto reign, which often attends great virtues, was fatal to his,\nfrequently hid them, and always rendered them suspected.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nREIGN OF HENRY II.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1154.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1158.]\n\nThe death of Stephen left an undisputed succession for the first time\nsince the death of Edward the Confessor. Henry, descended equally from\nthe Norman Conqueror and the old English kings, adopted by Stephen,\nacknowledged by the barons, united in himself every kind of title. It\nwas grown into a custom for the king to grant a charter of liberties on\nhis accession to the crown. Henry also granted a charter of that kind,\nconfirming that of his grandfather; but as his situation was very\ndifferent from that of his predecessors, his charter was\ndifferent,--reserved, short, dry, conceived in general terms,--a gift,\nnot a bargain. And, indeed, there seems to have been at that juncture\nbut little occasion to limit a power which seemed not more than\nsufficient to correct all the evils of an unlimited liberty. Henry spent\nthe beginning of his reign in repairing the ruins of the royal\nauthority, and in restoring to the kingdom peace and order, along with\nits ancient limits; and he may well be considered as the restorer of the\nEnglish monarchy. Stephen had sacrificed the demesne of the crown, and\nmany of its rights, to his subjects; and the necessity of the times\nobliged both that prince and the Empress Matilda to purchase, in their\nturns, the precarious friendship of the King of Scotland by a cession of\nalmost all the country north of the Humber. But Henry obliged the King\nof Scotland to restore his acquisitions, and to renew his homage. He\ntook the same methods with his barons. Not sparing the grants of his\nmother, he resumed what had been so lavishly squandered by both of the\ncontending parties, who, to establish their claims, had given away\nalmost everything that made them valuable. There never was a prince in\nEurope who better understood the advantages to be derived from its\npeculiar constitution, in which greater acquisitions of dominion are\nmade by judicious marriages than by success in war: for, having added to\nhis patrimonial territories of Anjou and Normandy the Duchy of Guienne\nby his own marriage, the male issue of the Dukes of Brittany failing, he\ntook the opportunity of marrying his third son, Geoffrey, then an\ninfant, to the heiress of that important province, an infant also; and\nthus uniting by so strong a link his northern to his southern dominions,\nhe possessed in his own name, or in those of his wife and son, all that\nfine and extensive country that is washed by the Atlantic Ocean, from\nPicardy quite to the foot of the Pyrenees.\n\nHenry, possessed of such extensive territories, and aiming at further\nacquisitions, saw with indignation that the sovereign authority in all\nof them, especially in England, had been greatly diminished. By his\nresumptions he had, indeed, lessened the greatness of several of the\nnobility. He had by force of arms reduced those who forcibly held the\ncrown lands, and deprived them of their own estates for their\nrebellion. He demolished many castles, those perpetual resources of\nrebellion and disorder. But the great aim of his policy was to break the\npower of the clergy, which each of his predecessors, since Edward, had\nalternately strove to raise and to depress,--at first in order to gain\nthat potent body to their interests, and then to preserve them in\nsubjection to the authority which they had conferred. The clergy had\nelected Stephen; they had deposed Stephen, and elected Matilda; and in\nthe instruments which they used on these occasions they affirmed in\nthemselves a general right of electing the kings of England. Their share\nboth in the elevation and depression of that prince showed that they\npossessed a power inconsistent with the safety and dignity of the state.\nThe immunities which they enjoyed seemed no less prejudicial to the\ncivil economy,--and the rather, as, in the confusion of Stephen's reign,\nmany, to protect themselves from the prevailing violence of the time, or\nto sanctify their own disorders, had taken refuge in the clerical\ncharacter. The Church was never so full of scandalous persons, who,\nbeing accountable only in the ecclesiastical courts, where no crime is\npunished with death, were guilty of every crime. A priest had about this\ntime committed a murder attended with very aggravating circumstances.\nThe king, willing at once to restore order and to depress the clergy,\nlaid hold of this favorable opportunity to convoke the cause to his own\ncourt, when the atrociousness of the crime made all men look with an\nevil eye upon the claim of any privilege which might prevent the\nseverest justice. The nation in general seemed but little inclined to\ncontrovert so useful a regulation with so potent a prince.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1162.]\n\nAmidst this general acquiescence one man was found bold enough to oppose\nhim, who for eight years together embroiled all his affairs, poisoned\nhis satisfactions, endangered his dominions, and at length in his death\ntriumphed over all the power and policy of this wise and potent monarch.\nThis was Thomas \u00e0-Becket, a man memorable for the great glory and the\nbitter reproaches he has met with from posterity. This person was the\nson of a respectable citizen of London. He was bred to the study of the\ncivil and canon law, the education, then, used to qualify a man for\npublic affairs, in which he soon made a distinguished figure. By the\nroyal favor and his own abilities, he rose, in a rapid succession\nthrough several considerable employments, from an office under the\nsheriff of London, to be High Chancellor of the kingdom. In this high\npost he showed a spirit as elevated; but it was rather a military spirit\nthan that of the gownman,--magnificent to excess in his living and\nappearance, and distinguishing himself in the tournaments and other\nmartial sports of that age with much ostentation of courage and expense.\nThe king, who favored him greatly, and expected a suitable return, on\nthe vacancy, destined Becket, yet a layman, to the see of Canterbury,\nand hoped to find in him a warm promoter of the reformation he intended.\nHardly a priest, he was made the first prelate in the kingdom. But no\nsooner was he invested with the clerical character than the whole tenor\nof his conduct was seen to change all at once: of his pompous retinue a\nfew plain servants only remained; a monastic temperance regulated his\ntable; and his life, in all respects formed to the most rigid austerity,\nseemed to prepare him for that superiority he was resolved to assume,\nand the conflicts he foresaw he must undergo in this attempt.\n\nIt will not be unpleasing to pause a moment at this remarkable period,\nin order to view in what consisted that greatness of the clergy, which\nenabled them to bear so very considerable a sway in all public\naffairs,--what foundations supported the weight of so vast a\npower,--whence it had its origin,--what was the nature, and what the\nground, of the immunities they claimed,--that we may the more fully\nenter into this important controversy, and may not judge, as some have\ninconsiderately done, of the affairs of those times by ideas taken from\nthe present manners and opinions.\n\nIt is sufficiently known, that the first Christians, avoiding the Pagan\ntribunals, tried most even of their civil causes before the bishop, who,\nthough he had no direct coercive power, yet, wielding the sword of\nexcommunication, had wherewithal to enforce the execution of his\njudgments. Thus the bishop had a considerable sway in temporal affairs,\neven before he was owned by the temporal power. But the Emperors no\nsooner became Christian than, the idea of profaneness being removed from\nthe secular tribunals, the causes of the Christian laity naturally\npassed to that resort where those of the generality had been before. But\nthe reverence for the bishop still remained, and the remembrance of his\nformer jurisdiction. It was not thought decent, that he, who had been a\njudge in his own court, should become a suitor in the court of another.\nThe body of the clergy likewise, who were supposed to have no secular\nconcerns for which they could litigate, and removed by their character\nfrom all suspicion of violence, were left to be tried by their own\necclesiastical superiors. This was, with a little variation, sometimes\nin extending, sometimes in restraining the bishops' jurisdiction, the\ncondition of things whilst the Roman Empire subsisted. But though their\nimmunities were great and their possessions ample, yet, living under an\nabsolute form of government, they were powerful only by influence. No\njurisdictions were annexed to their lands; they had no place in the\nsenate; they were no order in the state.\n\nFrom the settlement of the Northern nations the clergy must be\nconsidered in another light. The Barbarians gave them large landed\npossessions; and by giving them land, they gave them jurisdiction,\nwhich, according to their notions, was inseparable from it. They made\nthem an order in the state; and as all the orders had their privileges,\nthe clergy had theirs, and were no less steady to preserve and ambitious\nto extend them. Our ancestors, having united the Church dignities to the\nsecular dignities of baronies, had so blended the ecclesiastical with\nthe temporal power in the same persons that it became almost impossible\nto separate them. The ecclesiastical was, however, prevalent in this\ncomposition, drew to it the other, supported it, and was supported by\nit. But it was not the devotion only, but the necessity of the tunes,\nthat raised the clergy to the excess of this greatness. The little\nlearning which then subsisted remained wholly in their hands. Few among\nthe laity could even read; consequently the clergy alone were proper for\npublic affairs. They were the statesmen, they were the lawyers; from\nthem were often taken the bailiffs of the seigneurial courts, sometimes\nthe sheriffs of counties, and almost constantly the justiciaries of the\nkingdom.[78] The Norman kings, always jealous of their order, were\nalways forced to employ them. In abbeys the law was studied; abbeys were\nthe palladiums of the public liberty by the custody of the royal\ncharters and most of the records. Thus, necessary to the great by their\nknowledge, venerable to the poor by their hospitality, dreadful to all\nby the power of excommunication, the character of the clergy was exalted\nabove everything in the state; and it could no more be otherwise in\nthose days than it is possible it should be so in ours.\n\nWilliam the Conqueror made it one principal point of his politics to\nreduce the clergy; but all the steps he took in it were not equally well\ncalculated to answer this intention. When he subjected the Church lands\nto military service, the clergy complained bitterly, as it lessened\ntheir revenue: but I imagine it did not lessen their power in\nproportion; for by this regulation they came, like other great lords, to\nhave their military vassals, who owed them homage and fealty: and this\nrather increased their consideration amongst so martial a people. The\nkings who succeeded him, though they also aimed at reducing the\necclesiastical power, never pursued their scheme on a great or\nlegislative principle. They seemed rather desirous of enriching\nthemselves by the abuses in the Church than earnest to correct them. One\nday they plundered and the next day they founded monasteries, as their\nrapaciousness or their scruples chanced to predominate; so that every\nattempt of that kind, having rather the air of tyranny than reformation,\ncould never be heartily approved or seconded by the body of the people.\n\n\nThe bishops must always be considered in the double capacity of clerks\nand barons. Their courts, therefore, had a double jurisdiction: over the\nclergy and laity of their diocese for the cognizance of crimes against\necclesiastical law, and over the vassals of their barony as lords\nparamount. But these two departments, so different in their nature, they\nfrequently confounded, by making use of the spiritual weapon of\nexcommunication to enforce the judgments of both; and this sentence,\ncutting off the party from the common society of mankind, lay equally\nheavy on all ranks: for, as it deprived the lower sort of the fellowship\nof their equals and the protection of their lord, so it deprived the\nlord of the services of his vassals, whether he or they lay under the\nsentence. This was one of the grievances which the king proposed to\nredress.\n\nAs some sanction of religion is mixed with almost every concern of civil\nlife, and as the ecclesiastical court took cognizance of all religious\nmatters, it drew to itself not only all questions relative to tithes and\nadvowsons, but whatever related to marriages, wills, the estate of\nintestates, the breaches of oaths and contracts,--in a word, everything\nwhich did not touch life or feudal property.\n\nThe ignorance of the bailiffs in lay courts, who were only possessed of\nsome feudal maxims and the traditions of an uncertain custom, made this\nrecourse to the spiritual courts the more necessary, where they could\njudge with a little more exactness by the lights of the canon and civil\nlaws.\n\nThis jurisdiction extended itself by connivance, by necessity, by\ncustom, by abuse, over lay persons and affairs. But the immunity of the\nclergy from lay cognizances was claimed, not only as a privilege\nessential to the dignity of their order, supported by the canons, and\ncountenanced by the Roman law, but as a right confirmed by all the\nancient laws of England.\n\nChristianity, coming into England out of the bosom of the Roman Empire,\nbrought along with it all those ideas of immunity. The first trace we\ncan find of this exemption from lay jurisdiction in England is in the\nlaws of Ethelred;[79] it is more fully established in those of\nCanute;[80] but in the code of Henry I. it is twice distinctly\naffirmed.[81] This immunity from the secular jurisdiction, whilst it\nseemed to encourage acts of violence in the clergy towards others,\nencouraged also the violence of others against them. The murder of a\nclerk could not be punished at this time by death; it was against a\nspiritual person, an offence wholly spiritual, of which the secular\ncourts took no sort of cognizance. In the Saxon times two circumstances\nmade such an exemption less a cause of jealousy: the sheriff sat with\nthe bishop, and the spiritual jurisdiction was, if not under the\ncontrol, at least under the inspection of the lay officer; and then, as\nneither laity nor clergy were capitally punished for any offence, this\nprivilege did not create so invidious and glaring a distinction between\nthem. Such was the power of the clergy, and such the immunities, which\nthe king proposed to diminish.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1164.]\n\nBecket, who had punished the ecclesiastic for his crime by\necclesiastical law, refused to deliver him over to the secular judges\nfor farther punishment, on the principle of law, that no man ought to be\ntwice questioned for the same offence. The king, provoked at this\nopposition, summoned a council of the barons and bishops at Clarendon;\nand here, amongst others of less moment, the following were unanimously\ndeclared to be the ancient prerogatives of the crown. And it is\nsomething remarkable, and certainly makes much for the honor of their\nmoderation, that the bishops and abbots who must have composed so large\nand weighty a part of the great council seem not only to have made no\nopposition to regulations which so remarkably contracted their\njurisdiction, but even seem to have forwarded them.\n\n1st. A clerk accused of any crime shall appear in the king's court, that\nit may be judged whether he belongs to ecclesiastical or secular\ncognizance. If to the former, a deputy shall go into the bishop's court\nto observe the trial; if the clerk be convicted, he shall be delivered\nover to the king's justiciary to be punished.\n\n2nd. All causes concerning presentation, all causes concerning\nFrankalmoign, all actions concerning breach of faith, shall be tried in\nthe king's court.\n\n3rd. The king's tenant _in capite_ shall not be excommunicated without\nthe king's license.\n\n4th. No clerk shall go out of the kingdom without giving security that\nhe will do nothing to the prejudice of the king or nation. And all\nappeals shall be tried at home.\n\nThese are the most material of the Constitutions or Assizes of\nClarendon, famous for having been the first legal check given to the\npower of the clergy in England. To give these constitutions the greater\nweight, it was thought proper that they should be confirmed by a bull\nfrom the Pope. By this step the king seemed to doubt the entireness of\nhis own authority in his dominions; and by calling in foreign aid when\nit served his purpose, he gave it a force and a sort of legal sanction\nwhen it came to be employed against himself. But as no negotiation had\nprepared the Pope in favor of laws designed in reality to abridge his\nown power, it was no wonder that he rejected them with indignation.\nBecket, who had not been prevailed on to accept them but with infinite\nreluctance, was no sooner apprised of the Pope's disapprobation than he\nopenly declared his own; he did penance in the humblest manner for his\nformer acquiescence, and resolved to make amends for it by opposing the\nnew constitutions with the utmost zeal. In this disposition the king saw\nthat the Archbishop might be more easily ruined than humbled, and his\nruin was resolved. Immediately a number of suits, on various pretences,\nwere commenced against him, in every one of which he was sure to be\nfoiled; but these making no deadly blow at his fortunes, he was called\nto account for thirty thousand pounds which he was accused of having\nembezzled during his chancellorship. It was in vain that he pleaded a\nfull acquittance from the king's son, and Richard de Lucy, the guardian\nand justiciary of the kingdom, on his resignation of the seals; he saw\nit was already determined against him. Far from yielding under these\nrepeated blows, he raised still higher the ecclesiastical pretensions,\nnow become necessary to his own protection. He refused to answer to the\ncharge, and appealed to the Pope, to whom alone he seemed to acknowledge\nany real subjection. A great ferment ensued on this appeal. The\ncourtiers advised that he should be thrown into prison, and that his\ntemporalities should be seized. The bishops, willing to reduce Becket\nwithout reducing their own order, proposed to accuse him before the\nPope, and to pursue him to degradation. Some of his friends pressed him\nto give up his cause; others urged him to resign his dignity. The king's\nservants threw out menaces against his life. Amidst this general\nconfusion of passions and councils, whilst every one according to his\ninterests expected the event with much anxiety, Becket, in the disguise\nof a monk, escaped out of the nation, and threw himself into the arms of\nthe King of France.\n\nHenry was greatly alarmed at this secession, which put the Archbishop\nout of his power, but left him in full possession of all his\necclesiastical weapons. An embassy was immediately dispatched to Rome,\nin order to accuse Becket; but as Becket pleaded the Pope's own cause\nbefore the Pope himself, he obtained an easy victory over the king's\nambassadors. Henry, on the other hand, took every measure to maintain\nhis authority: he did everything worthy of an able politician, and of a\nking tenacious of his just authority. He likewise took measures not only\nto humble Becket, but also to lower that chair whose exaltation had an\nill influence on the throne: for he encouraged the Bishop of London to\nrevive a claim to the primacy; and thus, by making the rights of the see\nat least dubious, he hoped to render future prelates more cautious in\nthe exercise of them. He inhibited, under the penalty of high treason,\nall ecclesiastics from going out of his dominions without license, or\nany emissary of the Pope's or Archbishop's from entering them with\nletters of excommunication or interdict. And that he might not supply\narms against himself, the Peter-pence were collected with the former\ncare, but detained in the royal treasury, that matter might be left to\nRome both for hope and fear. In the personal treatment of Becket all the\nproceedings were full of anger, and by an unnecessary and unjust\nseverity greatly discredited both the cause and character of the king;\nfor he stripped of their goods and banished all the Archbishop's\nkindred, all who were in any sort connected with him, without the least\nregard to sex, age, or condition. In the mean time, Becket, stung with\nthese affronts, impatient of his banishment, and burning with all the\nfury and the same zeal which had occasioned it, continually threatened\nthe king with the last exertions of ecclesiastical power; and all things\nwere thereby, and by the absence and enmity of the head of the English\nChurch, kept in great confusion.\n\nDuring this unhappy contention several treaties were set on foot; but\nthe disposition of all the parties who interested themselves in this\nquarrel very much protracted a determination in favor of either side.\nWith regard to Rome, the then Pope was Alexander the Third, one of the\nwisest prelates who had ever governed that see, and the most zealous for\nextending its authority. However, though incessantly solicited by Becket\nto excommunicate the king and to lay the kingdom under an interdict, he\nwas unwilling to keep pace with the violence of that enraged bishop.\nBecket's view was single; but the Pope had many things to consider: an\nAntipope then subsisted, who was strongly supported by the Emperor; and\nHenry had actually entered into a negotiation with this Emperor and\nthis pretended Pope. On the other hand, the king knew that the lower\nsort of people in England were generally affected to the Archbishop, and\nmuch under the influence of the clergy. He was therefore fearful to\ndrive the Pope to extremities by wholly renouncing his authority. These\ndispositions in the two principal powers made way for several\nconferences leading to peace. But for a long time all their endeavors\nseemed rather to inflame than to allay the quarrel. Whilst the king,\nsteady in asserting his rights, remembered with bitterness the\nArchbishop's opposition, and whilst the Archbishop maintained the claims\nof the Church with an haughtiness natural to him, and which was only\naugmented by his sufferings, the King of France appeared sometimes to\nforward, sometimes to perplex the negotiation: and this duplicity seemed\nto be dictated by the situation of his affairs. He was desirous of\nnourishing a quarrel which put so redoubted a vassal on the defensive;\nbut he was also justly fearful of driving so powerful a prince to forget\nthat he was a vassal. All parties, however, wearied at length with a\ncontest by which all were distracted, and which in its issue promised\nnothing favorable to any of them, yielded at length to an accommodation,\nfounded rather on an oblivion and silence of past disputes than on the\nsettlement of terms for preserving future tranquillity. Becket returned\nin a sort of triumph to his see. Many of the dignified clergy, and not a\nfew of the barons, lay under excommunication for the share they had in\nhis persecution; but, neither broken by adversity nor softened by good\nfortune, he relented nothing of his severity, but referred them all for\ntheir absolution to the Pope. Their resentments were revived with\nadditional bitterness; new affronts were offered to the Archbishop,\nwhich brought on new excommunications and interdicts. The contention\nthickened on all sides, and things seemed running precipitately to the\nformer dangerous extremities, when the account of these contests was\nbrought, with much aggravation against Becket, to the ears of the king,\nthen in Normandy, who, foreseeing a new series of troubles, broke out in\na violent passion of grief and anger,--\"I have no friends, or I had not\nso long been insulted by this haughty priest!\" Four knights who attended\nnear his person, thinking that the complaints of a king are orders for\nrevenge, and hoping a reward equal to the importance and even guilt of\nthe service, silently departed; and passing with great diligence into\nEngland, in a short time they arrived at Canterbury. They entered the\ncathedral; they fell on the Archbishop, just on the point of celebrating\ndivine service, and with repeated blows of their clubs they beat him to\nthe ground, they broke his skull in pieces, and covered the altar with\nhis blood and brains.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1171.]\n\nThe horror of this barbarous action, increased by the sacredness of the\nperson who suffered and of the place where it was committed, diffused\nitself on all sides with incredible rapidity. The clergy, in whose cause\nhe fell, equalled him to the most holy martyrs; compassion for his fate\nmade all men forget his faults; and the report of frequent miracles at\nhis tomb sanctified his cause and character, and threw a general odium\non the king. What became of the murderers is uncertain: they were\nneither protected by the king nor punished by the laws, for the reason\nwe have not long since mentioned. The king with infinite difficulty\nextricated himself from the consequences of this murder, which\nthreatened, under the Papal banners, to arm all Europe against him; nor\nwas he absolved, but by renouncing the most material parts of the\nConstitutions of Clarendon, by purging himself upon oath of the murder\nof Becket, by doing a very humiliating penance at his tomb to expiate\nthe rash words which had given occasion to his death, and by engaging to\nfurnish a large sum of money for the relief of the Holy Land, and taking\nthe cross himself as soon as his affairs should admit it. The king\nprobably thought his freedom from the haughtiness of Becket cheaply\npurchased by these condescensions: and without question, though Becket\nmight have been justifiable, perhaps even laudable, for his steady\nmaintenance of the privileges which his Church and his order had\nacquired by the care of his predecessors, and of which he by his place\nwas the depository, yet the principles upon which he supported these\nprivileges, subversive of all good government, his extravagant ideas of\nChurch power, the schemes he meditated, even to his death, to extend it\nyet further, his violent and unreserved attachment to the Papacy, and\nthat inflexible spirit which all his virtues rendered but the more\ndangerous, made his death as advantageous, at that time, as the means by\nwhich it was effected were sacrilegious and detestable.\n\nBetween the death of Becket and the king's absolution he resolved on the\nexecution of a design by which he reduced under his dominion a country\nnot more separated from the rest of Europe by its situation than by the\nlaws, customs, and way of life of the inhabitants: for the people of\nIreland, with no difference but that of religion, still retained the\nnative manners of the original Celts. The king had meditated this design\nfrom the very beginning of his reign, and had obtained a bull from the\nthen Pope, Adrian the fourth, an Englishman, to authorize the attempt.\nHe well knew, from the internal weakness and advantageous situation of\nthis noble island, the easiness and importance of such a conquest. But\nat this particular time he was strongly urged to his engaging personally\nin the enterprise by two other powerful motives. For, first, the murder\nof Becket had bred very ill humors in his subjects, the chiefs of whom,\nalways impatient of a long peace, were glad of any pretence for\nrebellion; it was therefore expedient, and serviceable to the crown, to\nfind an employment abroad for this spirit, which could not exert itself\nwithout being destructive at home. And next, as he had obtained the\ngrant of Ireland from the Pope, upon condition of subjecting it to\nPeter-pence, he knew that the speedy performance of this condition would\ngreatly facilitate his recovering the good graces of the court of Rome.\nBefore we give a short narrative of the reduction of Ireland, I propose\nto lay open to the reader the state of that kingdom, that we may see\nwhat grounds Henry had to hope for success in this expedition.\n\nIreland is about half as large as England. In the temperature of the\nclimate there is little difference, other than that more rain falls; as\nthe country is more mountainous, and exposed full to the westerly wind,\nwhich, blowing from the Atlantic Ocean, prevails during the greater part\nof the year. This moisture, as it has enriched the country with large\nand frequent rivers, and spread out a number of fair and magnificent\nlakes beyond the proportion of other places, has on the other hand\nincumbered the island with an uncommon multitude of bogs and morasses;\nso that in general it is less praised for corn than pasturage, in which\nno soil is more rich and luxuriant. Whilst it possesses these internal\nmeans of wealth, it opens on all sides a great number of ports, spacious\nand secure, and by their advantageous situation inviting to universal\ncommerce. But on these ports, better known than those of Britain in the\ntime of the Romans, at this time there were few towns, scarce any\nfortifications, and no trade that deserves to be mentioned.\n\nThe people of Ireland lay claim to a very extravagant antiquity, through\na vanity common to all nations. The accounts which are given by their\nancient chronicles of their first settlements are generally tales\nconfuted by their own absurdity. The settlement of the greatest\nconsequence, the best authenticated, and from which the Irish deduce the\npedigree of the best families, is derived from Spain: it was called Clan\nMilea, or the descendants of Milesius, and Kin Scuit, or the race of\nScyths, afterwards known by the name of Scots. The Irish historians\nsuppose this race descended from a person called Gathel, a Scythian by\nbirth, an Egyptian by education, the contemporary and friend of the\nprophet Moses. But these histories, seeming clear-sighted in the obscure\naffairs of so blind an antiquity, instead of passing for treasuries of\nancient facts, are regarded by the judicious as modern fictions. In\ncases of this sort rational conjectures are more to be relied on than\nimprobable relations. It is most probable that Ireland was first peopled\nfrom Britain. The coasts of these countries are in some places in sight\nof each other. The language, the manners, and religion of the most\nancient inhabitants of both are nearly the same. The Milesian colony,\nwhenever it arrived in Ireland, could have made no great change in the\nmanners or language; as the ancient Spaniards were a branch of the\nCelt\u00e6, as well as the old inhabitants of Ireland. The Irish language is\nnot different from that of all other nations, as Temple and Rapin, from\nignorance of it, have asserted; on the contrary, many of its words bear\na remarkable resemblance not only to those of the Welsh and Armoric, but\nalso to the Greek and Latin. Neither is the figure of the letters very\ndifferent from the vulgar character, though their order is not the same\nwith that of other nations, nor the names, which are taken from the\nIrish proper names of several species of trees: a circumstance which,\nnotwithstanding their similitude to the Roman letters, argues a\ndifferent original and great antiquity. The Druid discipline anciently\nflourished in that island. In the fourth century it fell down before the\npreaching of St. Patrick. Then the Christian religion was embraced and\ncultivated with an uncommon zeal, which displayed itself in the number\nand consequence of the persons who in all parts embraced the\ncontemplative life. This mode of life, and the situation of Ireland,\nremoved from the horror of those devastations which shook the rest of\nEurope, made it a refuge for learning, almost extinguished everywhere\nelse. Science flourished in Ireland during the seventh and eighth\ncenturies. The same cause which destroyed it in other countries also\ndestroyed it there. The Danes, then pagans, made themselves masters of\nthe island, after a long and wasteful war, in which they destroyed the\nsciences along with the monasteries in which they were cultivated. By as\ndestructive a war they were at length expelled; but neither their\nancient science nor repose returned to the Irish, who, falling into\ndomestic distractions as soon as they were freed from their foreign\nenemies, sunk quickly into a state of ignorance, poverty, and barbarism,\nwhich must have been very great, since it exceeded that of the rest of\nEurope. The disorders in the Church were equal to those in the civil\neconomy, and furnished to the Pope a plausible pretext for giving Henry\na commission to conquer the kingdom, in order to reform it.\n\nThe Irish were divided into a number of tribes or clans, each clan\nforming within itself a separate government. It was ordered by a chief,\nwho was not raised to that dignity either by election or by the ordinary\ncourse of descent, but as the eldest and worthiest of the blood of the\ndeceased lord. This order of succession, called Tanistry, was said to\nhave been invented in the Danish troubles, lest the tribe, during a\nminority, should have been endangered for want of a sufficient leader.\nIt was probably much more ancient: but it was, however, attended with\nvery great and pernicious inconveniencies, as it was obviously an affair\nof difficulty to determine who should be called the worthiest of the\nblood; and a door being always left open for ambition, this order\nintroduced a greater mischief than it was intended to remedy. Almost\nevery tribe, besides its contention with the neighboring tribes,\nnourished faction and discontent within itself. The chiefs we speak of\nwere in general called Tierna, or Lords, and those of more consideration\nRiagh, or Kings. Over these were placed five kings more eminent than\nthe rest, answerable to the five provinces into which the island was\nanciently divided. These again were subordinate to one head, who was\ncalled Monarch of all Ireland, raised to that power by election, or,\nmore properly speaking, by violence.\n\nWhilst the dignities of the state were disposed of by a sort of\nelection, the office of judges, who were called Brehons, the trades of\nmechanics, and even those arts which we are apt to consider as depending\nprincipally on natural genius, such as poetry and music, were confined\nin succession to certain races: the Irish imagining that greater\nadvantages were to be derived from an early institution, and the\naffection of parents desirous of perpetuating the secrets of their art\nin their families, than from the casual efforts of particular fancy and\napplication. This is much in the strain of the Eastern policy; but these\nand many other of the Irish institutions, well enough calculated to\npreserve good arts and useful discipline, when these arts came to\ndegenerate, were equally well calculated to prevent all improvement and\nto perpetuate corruption, by infusing an invincible tenaciousness of\nancient customs.\n\nThe people of Ireland were much more addicted to pasturage than\nagriculture, not more from the quality of their soil than from a remnant\nof the Scythian manners. They had but few towns, and those not\nfortified, each clan living dispersed over its own territory. The few\nwalled towns they had lay on the sea-coast; they were built by the\nDanes, and held after they had lost their conquests in the inland parts:\nhere was carried on the little foreign trade which the island then\npossessed.\n\nThe Irish militia was of two kinds: one called _kerns_, which were\nfoot, slightly armed with a long knife or dagger, and almost naked; the\nother, _galloglasses,_ who were horse, poorly mounted, and generally\narmed only with a battle-axe. Neither horse nor foot made much use of\nthe spear, the sword, or the bow. With indifferent arms, they had still\nworse discipline. In these circumstances, their natural bravery, which,\nthough considerable, was not superior to that of their invaders, stood\nthem in little stead.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1167.]\n\nSuch was the situation of things in Ireland, when Dermot, King of\nLeinster, having violently carried away the wife of one of the\nneighboring petty sovereigns, Roderic, King of Connaught and Monarch of\nIreland, joined with the injured husband to punish so flagrant an\noutrage, and with their united forces spoiled Dermot of his territories,\nand obliged him to abandon the kingdom. The fugitive prince, not\nunapprised of Henry's designs upon his country, threw himself at his\nfeet, implored his protection, and promised to hold of him, as his\nfeudatory, the sovereignty he should recover by his assistance. Henry\nwas at this time at Guienne. Nothing could be more agreeable to him than\nsuch an incident; but as his French dominions actually lay under an\ninterdict, on account of his quarrel with Becket, and all his affairs,\nboth at home and abroad, were in a troubled and dubious situation, it\nwas not prudent to remove his person, nor venture any considerable body\nof his forces on a distant enterprise. Yet not willing to lose so\nfavorable an opportunity, he warmly recommended the cause of Dermot to\nhis regency in England, permitting and encouraging all persons to arm in\nhis favor: a permission, in this age of enterprise, greedily accepted by\nmany; but the person who brought the most assistance to it, and indeed\ngave a form and spirit to the whole design, was Richard, Earl of\nStrigul, commonly known by the name of Strongbow. Dermot, to confirm in\nhis interest this potent and warlike peer, promised him his daughter in\nmarriage, with the reversion of his crown.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1169.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1171.]\n\nThe beginnings of so great an enterprise were formed with a very slender\nforce. Not four hundred men landed near Wexford: they took the town by\nstorm. When reinforced, they did not exceed twelve hundred; but, being\njoined with three thousand men by Dermot, with an incredible rapidity of\nsuccess they reduced Waterford, Dublin, Limerick, the only considerable\ncities in Ireland. By the novelty of their arms they had obtained some\nstriking advantages in their first engagements; and by these advantages\nthey attained a superiority of opinion over the Irish, which every\nsuccess Increased. Before the effect of this first impression had time\nto wear off, Henry, having settled his affairs abroad, entered the\nharbor of Cork with a fleet of four hundred sail, at once to secure the\nconquest, and the allegiance of the conquerors. The fame of so great a\nforce arriving under a prince dreaded by all Europe very soon disposed\nall the petty princes, with their King Roderic, to submit and do homage\nto Henry. They had not been able to resist the arms of his vassals, and\nthey hoped better treatment from submitting to the ambition of a great\nking, who left them everything but the honor of their independency, than\nfrom the avarice of adventurers, from which nothing was secure. The\nbishops and the body of the clergy greatly contributed to this\nsubmission, from respect to the Pope, and the horror of their late\ndefeats, which they began to regard as judgments. A national council was\nheld at Cashel for bringing the Church of Ireland to a perfect\nconformity in rites and discipline to that of England. It is not to be\nthought that in this council the temporal interests of England were\nentirely forgotten. Many of the English were established in their\nparticular conquests under the tenure of knights' service, now first\nintroduced into Ireland: a tenure which, if it has not proved the best\ncalculated to secure the obedience of the vassal to the sovereign, has\nnever failed in any instance of preserving a vanquished people in\nobedience to the conquerors. The English lords built strong castles on\ntheir demesnes; they put themselves at the head of the tribes whose\nchiefs they had slain; they assumed the Irish garb and manners; and\nthus, partly by force, partly by policy, the first English families took\na firm root in Ireland. It was, indeed, long before they were able\nentirely to subdue the island to the laws of England; but the continual\nefforts of the Irish for more than four hundred years proved\ninsufficient to dislodge them.\n\nWhilst Henry was extending his conquests to the western limits of the\nknown world, the whole fabric of his power was privately sapped and\nundermined, and ready to overwhelm him with the ruins, in the very\nmoment when he seemed to be arrived at the highest and most permanent\npoint of grandeur and glory. His excessive power, his continual\naccessions to it, and an ambition which by words and actions declared\nthat the whole world was not sufficient for a great man, struck a just\nterror into all the potentates near him: he was, indeed, arrived at that\npitch of greatness, that the means of his ruin could only be found in\nhis own family. A numerous offspring, which is generally considered as\nthe best defence of the throne, and the support as well as ornament of\ndeclining royalty, proved on this occasion the principal part of the\ndanger. Henry had in his lawful bed, besides daughters, four sons,\nHenry, Richard, Geoffrey, and John, all growing up with great hopes from\ntheir early courage and love of glory. No father was ever more delighted\nwith these hopes, nor more tender and indulgent to his children. A\ncustom had long prevailed in France for the reigning king to crown his\neldest son in his lifetime. By this policy, in turbulent times, and\nwhilst the principles of succession were unsettled, he secured the crown\nto his posterity. Henry gladly imitated a policy enforced no less by\npaternal affection than its utility to public peace. He had, during his\ntroubles with Becket, crowned his son Henry, then no more than sixteen\nyears old. But the young king, even on the day of his coronation,\ndiscovered an haughtiness which threatened not to content itself with\nthe share of authority to which the inexperience of his youth and the\nnature of a provisional crown confined him. The name of a king\ncontinually reminded him that he only possessed the name. The King of\nFrance, whose daughter he had espoused, fomented a discontent which grew\nwith his years. Geoffrey, who had married the heiress of Bretagne, on\nthe death of her father claimed to no purpose the entire sovereignty of\nhis wife's inheritance, which Henry, under a pretence of guardianship to\na son of full age, still retained in his hands. Richard had not the same\nplausible pretences, but he had yet greater ambition. He contended for\nthe Duchy of Guienne before his mother's death, which, alone could give\nhim the color of a title to it. The queen, his mother, hurried on by her\nown unquiet spirit, or, as some think, stimulated by jealousy,\nencouraged their rebellion against her husband. The King of France, who\nmoved all the other engines, engaged the King of Scotland, the Earl of\nFlanders, then a powerful prince, the Earl of Blois, and the Earl of\nBoulogne in the conspiracy. The barons in Bretagne, in Guienne, and even\nin England, were ready to take up arms in the same cause; whether it was\nthat they perceived the uniform plan the king had pursued in order to\ntheir reduction, or were solely instigated by the natural fierceness and\nlevity of their minds, fond of every dangerous novelty. The historians\nof that time seldom afford us a tolerable insight into the causes of the\ntransactions they relate; but whatever were the causes of so\nextraordinary a conspiracy, it was not discovered until the moment it\nwas ready for execution. The first token of it appeared in the young\nking's demand to have either England or Normandy given up to him. The\nrefusal of this demand served as a signal to all parties to put\nthemselves in motion. The younger Henry fled into France; Louis entered\nNormandy with a vast army; the barons of Bretagne under Geoffrey, and\nthose of Guienne under Richard, rose in arms; the King of Scotland\npierced into England; and the Earl of Leicester, at the head of fourteen\nthousand Flemings, landed in Suffolk.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1173]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1174]\n\nIt was on this trying occasion that Henry displayed a greatness\nindependent of all fortune. For, beset by all the neighboring powers,\nopposed by his own children, betrayed by his wife, abandoned by one part\nof his subjects, uncertain of the rest, every part of his state rotten\nand suspicious, his magnanimity grew beneath the danger; and when all\nthe ordinary resources failed, he found superior resources in his own\ncourage, wisdom, and activity. There were at that time dispersed over\nEurope bodies of mercenary troops, called Braban\u00e7ons, composed of\nfugitives from different nations, men who were detached from any\ncountry, and who, by making war a perpetual trade, and passing from\nservice to service, had acquired an experience and military knowledge\nuncommon in those days. Henry took twenty thousand of these mercenaries\ninto his service, and, as he paid them punctually, and kept them always\nin action, they served him with fidelity. The Papal authority, so often\nsubservient, so often prejudicial to his designs, he called to his\nassistance in a cause which did not misbecome it,--the cause of a father\nattacked by his children. This took off the ill impression left by\nBecket's death, and kept the bishops firm in their allegiance. Having\ntaken his measures with judgment, he pursued the war in Normandy with\nvigor. In this war his mercenaries had a great and visible advantage\nover the feudal armies of France: the latter, not so useful while they\nremained in the field, entered it late in the summer, and commonly left\nit in forty days. The King of France was forced to raise the siege of\nVerneuil, to evacuate Normandy, and agree to a truce. Then, at the head\nof his victorious Braban\u00e7ons, Henry marched into Brittany with an\nincredible expedition. The rebellious army, astonished as much by the\ncelerity of his march as the fury of his attack, was totally routed. The\nprincipal towns and castles were reduced soon after. The custody of the\nconquered country being lodged in faithful hands, he flew to the relief\nof England. There his natural son Geoffrey, Bishop elect of Ely,\nfaithful during the rebellion of all his legitimate offspring, steadily\nmaintained his cause, though with forces much inferior to his zeal. The\nking, before he entered into action, thought it expedient to perform his\nexpiation at the tomb of Becket. Hardly had he finished this ceremony,\nwhen the news arrived that the Scotch army was totally defeated, and\ntheir king made prisoner. This victory was universally attributed to the\nprayers of Becket; and whilst it established the credit of the new\nsaint, it established Henry in the minds of his people: they no longer\nlooked upon their king as an object of the Divine vengeance, but as a\npenitent reconciled to Heaven, and under the special protection of the\nmartyr he had made. The Flemish army, after several severe checks,\ncapitulated to evacuate the kingdom. The rebellious barons submitted\nsoon after. All was quiet in England; but the King of France renewed\nhostilities in Normandy, and laid siege to Rouen. Henry recruited his\narmy with a body of auxiliary Welsh, arrived at Rouen with his usual\nexpedition, raised the siege, and drove the King of France quite out of\nNormandy. It was then that he agreed to an accommodation, and in the\nterms of peace, which he dictated in the midst of victory to his sons,\nhis subjects, and his enemies, there was seen on one hand the tenderness\nof a father, and on the other the moderation of a wise man, not\ninsensible of the mutability of fortune.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1176]\n\nThe war which threatened his ruin being so happily ended, the greatness\nof the danger served only to enhance his glory; whilst he saw the King\nof France humbled, the Flemings defeated, the King of Scotland a\nprisoner, and his sons and subjects reduced to the bounds of their duty.\nHe employed this interval of peace to secure its continuance, and to\nprevent a return of the like evils; for which reason he made many\nreforms in the laws and polity of his dominions. He instituted itinerant\njustices, to weaken the power of the great barons, and even of the\nsheriffs, who were hardly more obedient,--an institution which, with\ngreat public advantages, has remained to our times. In the spirit of the\nsame policy he armed the whole body of the people: the English\ncommonalty had been in a manner disarmed ever since the Conquest. In\nthis regulation we may probably trace the origin of the militia, which,\nbeing under the orders of the crown rather in a political than a feudal\nrespect, were judged more to be relied on than the soldiers of tenure,\nto whose pride and power they might prove a sort of counterpoise. Amidst\nthese changes the affairs of the clergy remained untouched. The king had\nexperienced how dangerous it was to attempt removing foundations so\ndeeply laid both in strength and opinion. He therefore wisely aimed at\nacquiring the favor of that body, and turning to his own advantage a\npower he should in vain attempt to overthrow, but which he might set up\nagainst another power, which it was equally his interest to reduce.\n\nThough these measures were taken with the greatest judgment, and seemed\nto promise a peaceful evening to his reign, the seeds of rebellion\nremained still at home, and the dispositions that nourished them were\nrather increased abroad. The parental authority, respectable at all\ntimes, ought to have the greatest force in times when the manners are\nrude and the laws imperfect. At that time Europe had not emerged out of\nbarbarism, yet this great natural bond of society was extremely weak.\nThe number of foreign obligations and duties almost dissolved the family\nobligations. From the moment a young man was knighted, so far as related\nto his father, he became absolute master of his own conduct; but he\ncontracted at the same time a sort of filial relation with the person\nwho had knighted him. These various principles of duty distracted one\nanother. The custom which then prevailed, of bestowing lands and\njurisdictions, under the name of Appanages, to the sons of kings and the\ngreater nobility, gave them a power which was frequently employed\nagainst the giver; and the military and licentious manners of the age\nalmost destroyed every trace of every kind of regular authority. In the\nEast, where the rivalship of brothers is so dangerous, such is the force\nof paternal power amongst a rude people, we scarce ever hear of a son in\narms against his father. In Europe, for several ages, it was very\ncommon. It was Henry's great misfortune to suffer in a particular manner\nfrom this disorder.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1180.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1183.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1188.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1189.]\n\nPhilip succeeded Louis, King of France. He followed closely the plan of\nhis predecessor, to reduce the great vassals, and the King of England,\nwho was the greatest of them; but he followed it with far more skill and\nvigor, though he made use of the same instruments in the work. He\nrevived the spirit of rebellion in the princes, Henry's sons. These\nyoung princes were never in harmony with each other but in a confederacy\nagainst their father, and the father had no recourse but in the\nmelancholy safety derived from the disunion of his children. This he\nthought it expedient to increase; but such policy, when discovered, has\nalways a dangerous effect. The sons, having just quarrelled enough to\ngive room for an explanation of each other's designs, and to display\nthose of their father, enter into a new conspiracy. In the midst of\nthese motions the young king dies, and showed at his death such signs of\na sincere repentance as served to revive the old king's tenderness, and\nto take away all comfort for his loss. The death of his third son,\nGeoffrey, followed close upon the heels of this funeral. He died at\nParis, whither he had gone to concert measures against his father.\nRichard and John remained. Richard, fiery, restless, ambitious, openly\ntook up arms, and pursued the war with implacable rancor, and such\nsuccess as drove the king, in the decline of his life, to a dishonorable\ntreaty; nor was he then content, but excited new troubles. John was his\nyoungest and favorite child; in him he reposed all his hopes, and\nconsoled himself for the undutifulness of his other sons; but after\nconcluding the treaty with the King of France and Richard, he found too\nsoon that John had been as deep as any in the conspiracy. This was his\nlast wound: afflicted by his children in their deaths and harassed in\ntheir lives, mortified as a father and a king, worn down with cares and\nsorrows more than with years, he died, cursing his fortune, his\nchildren, and the hour of his birth. When he perceived that death\napproached him, by his own desire he was carried into a church and laid\nat the altar's foot. Hardly had he expired, when he was stripped, then\nforsaken by his attendants, and left a long time a naked and unheeded\nbody in an empty church: affording a just consolation for the obscurity\nof a mean fortune, and an instructive lesson how little an outward\ngreatness and enjoyments foreign to the mind contribute towards a solid\nfelicity, in the example of one who was the greatest of kings and the\nunhappiest of mankind.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[78] Seld. Tithes, p. 482.\n\n[79] LL. Ethelred. Si presbyter homicida fieret, &c.\n\n[80] LL. Cnuti, 38, De Ministro Altaris Homicida. Idem, 40, De Ordinato\nCapitis reo.\n\n[81] LL. H.I. 57, De Querela Vicinorum; and 56 [66?]. De Ordinato qui\nVitam forisfaciat, in Foed. Alured. et Guthurn., apud Spel. Concil.\n376, 1st vol.; LL. Edw. et Guthurn., 3, De Correctione Ordinatorum.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nREIGN OF RICHARD I.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Richard I. A.D. 1189]\n\nWhilst Henry lived, the King of France had always an effectual means of\nbreaking his power by the divisions in his family. But now Richard\nsucceeded to all the power of his father, with an equal ambition to\nextend it, with a temper infinitely more fiery and impetuous, and free\nfrom every impediment of internal dissension. These circumstances filled\nthe mind of Philip with great and just uneasiness. There was no security\nbut in finding exercise for the enterprising genius of the young king at\na distance from home. The new Crusade afforded an advantageous\nopportunity. A little before his father's death, Richard had taken the\ncross in conjunction with the King of France. So precipitate were the\nfears of that monarch, that Richard was hardly crowned when ambassadors\nwere dispatched to England to remind him of his obligation, and to pique\nhis pride by acquainting him that their master was even then in\nreadiness to fulfil his part of their common vow. An enterprise of this\nsort was extremely agreeable to the genius of Richard, where religion\nsanctified the thirst of military glory, and where the glory itself\nseemed but the more desirable by being unconnected with interest. He\nimmediately accepted the proposal, and resolved to insure the success as\nwell as the lustre of his expedition by the magnificence of his\npreparations. Not content with the immense treasures amassed by his\nfather, he drew in vast sums by the sale of almost all the demesnes of\nthe crown, and of every office under it, not excepting those of the\nhighest trust. The clergy, whose wealth and policy enabled them to take\nadvantage of the necessity and weakness of the Croises, were generally\nthe purchasers of both. To secure his dominions in his absence, he made\nan alliance with the princes of Wales, and with the King of Scotland. To\nthe latter he released, for a sum of money, the homage which had been\nextorted by his father.\n\nHis brother John gave him most uneasiness; but finding it unworthy, or\nimpracticable, to use the severer methods of jealous policy, he resolved\nto secure his fidelity by loading him with benefits. He bestowed on him\nsix earldoms, and gave him in marriage the Lady Avisa, sole heiress of\nthe great house of Gloucester; but as he gave him no share in the\nregency, he increased his power, and left him discontented in a kingdom\ncommitted to the care of new men, who had merited their places by their\nmoney.\n\nIt will be proper to take a view of the condition of the Holy Land at\nthe time when this third Crusade was set on foot to repair the faults\ncommitted in the two former. The conquests of the Croises, extending\nover Palestine and a part of Syria, had been erected into a sovereignty\nunder the name of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This kingdom, ill-ordered\nwithin, surrounded on all sides by powerful enemies, subsisted by a\nstrength not its own for near ninety years. But dissensions arising\nabout the succession to the crown, between Guy of Lusignan and Raymond,\nEarl of Tripoli, Guy, either because he thought the assistance of the\nEuropean princes too distant, or that he feared their decision, called\nin the aid of Saladin, Sultan of Egypt. This able prince immediately\nentered Palestine. As the whole strength of the Christians in Palestine\ndepended upon foreign succor, he first made himself master of the\nmaritime towns, and then Jerusalem fell an easy prey to his arms; whilst\nthe competitors contended with the utmost violence for a kingdom which\nno longer existed for either of them. All Europe was alarmed at this\nrevolution. The banished Patriarch of Jerusalem filled every place with\nthe distresses of the Eastern Christians. The Pope ordered a solemn fast\nto be forever kept for this loss, and then, exerting all his influence,\nexcited a new Crusade, in which vast numbers engaged, with an ardor\nunabated by their former misfortunes; but wanting a proper subordination\nrather than a sufficient force, they made but a slow progress, when\nRichard and Philip, at the head of more than one hundred thousand chosen\nmen, the one from Marseilles, the other from Genoa, set sail to their\nassistance.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1191]\n\nIn his voyage to the Holy Land accident presented Richard, with an\nunexpected conquest. A vessel of his fleet was driven by a storm to take\nshelter in the Isle of Cyprus. That island was governed by a prince\nnamed Isaac, of the imperial family of the Comneni, who not only\nrefused all relief to the sufferers, but plundered them of the little\nremains of their substance. Richard, resenting this inhospitable\ntreatment, aggravated by the insolence of the tyrant, turned his force\nupon Cyprus, vanquished Isaac in the field, took the capital city, and\nwas solemnly crowned king of that island. But deeming it as glorious to\ngive as to acquire a crown, he soon after resigned it to Lusignan, to\nsatisfy him for his claim on Jerusalem; in whose descendants it\ncontinued for several generations, until, passing by marriage into the\nfamily of Cornaro, a Venetian nobleman, it was acquired to that state,\nthe only state in Europe which had any real benefit by all the blood and\ntreasure lavished in the Holy War.\n\nRichard arrived in Palestine some time after the King of France. His\narrival gave new vigor to the operations of the Croises. He reduced Acre\nto surrender at discretion, which had been in vain besieged for two\nyears, and in the siege of which an infinite number of Christians had\nperished; and so much did he distinguish himself on this and on all\noccasions, that the whole expedition seemed to rest on his single valor.\nThe King of France, seeing him fully engaged, had all that he desired.\nThe climate was disagreeable to his constitution, and the war, in which\nhe acted but a second part, to his pride. He therefore hastened home to\nexecute his projects against Richard, amusing him with oaths made to be\nviolated,--leaving, indeed, a part of his forces under the Duke of\nBurgundy, but with private orders to give him underhand all possible\nobstruction. Notwithstanding the desertion of his ally, Richard\ncontinued the war with uncommon alacrity. With very unequal numbers he\nengaged and defeated the whole army of Saladin, and slew forty thousand\nof his best troops. He obliged him to evacuate all the towns on the\nsea-coast, and spread the renown and terror of his arms over all Asia. A\nthousand great exploits did not, however, enable him to extend his\nconquests to the inland country. Jealousy, envy, cabals, and a total\nwant of discipline reigned in the army of the Crosses. The climate, and\ntheir intemperance more than the climate, wasted them with a swift\ndecay. The vow which brought them to the Holy Land was generally for a\nlimited time, at the conclusion of which they were always impatient to\ndepart. Their armies broke up at the most critical conjunctures,--as it\nwas not the necessity of the service, but the extent of their vows,\nwhich held them together. As soon, therefore, as they had habituated\nthemselves to the country, and attained some experience, they were gone;\nand new men supplied their places, to acquire experience by the same\nmisfortunes, and to lose the benefit of it by the same inconstancy. Thus\nthe war could never be carried on with steadiness and uniformity. On the\nother side, Saladin continually repaired his losses; his resources were\nat hand; and this great captain very judiciously kept possession of that\nmountainous country which, formed by a perpetual ridge of Libanus, in a\nmanner walls in the sea-coast of Palestine. There he hung, like a\ncontinual tempest, ready to burst over the Christian army. On his rear\nwas the strong city of Jerusalem, which secured a communication with the\ncountries of Chaldea and Mesopotamia, from whence he was well supplied\nwith everything. If the Christians attempted to improve their successes\nby penetrating to Jerusalem, they had a city powerfully garrisoned in\ntheir front, a country wasted and destitute of forage to act in, and\nSaladin with a vast army on their rear advantageously posted to cut off\ntheir convoys and reinforcements.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1192.]\n\nRichard was laboring to get over these disadvantages, when he was\ninformed by repeated expresses of the disorder of his affairs in\nEurope,--disorders which arose from the ill dispositions he had made at\nhis departure. The heads of his regency had abused their power; they\nquarrelled with each other, and the nobility with them. A sort of a\ncivil war had arisen, in which they were deposed. Prince John was the\nmain spring of these dissensions; he engaged in a close communication of\ncouncils with the King of France, who had seized upon several places in\nNormandy. It was with regret that Richard found himself obliged to leave\na theatre on which he had planned such an illustrious scene of action. A\nconstant emulation in courtesy and politeness, as well as in military\nexploits, had been kept up between him and Saladin. He now concluded a\ntruce with that generous enemy, and on his departure sent a messenger to\nassure him that on its expiration he would not fail to be again in\nPalestine. Saladin replied, that, if he must lose his kingdom, he would\nchoose to lose it to the King England. Thus Richard returned, leaving\nJerusalem in the hands of the Saracens; and this end had an enterprise\nin which two of the most powerful monarchs in Europe were personally\nengaged, an army of upwards of one hundred thousand men employed, and to\nfurnish which the whole Christian world had been vexed and exhausted.\nIt is a melancholy reflection, that the spirit of great designs can\nseldom be inspired, but where the reason of mankind is so uncultivated\nthat they can be turned to little advantage.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1193]\n\nWith this war ended the fortune of Richard, who found the Saracens less\ndangerous than his Christian allies. It is not well known what motive\ninduced him to land at Aquileia, at the bottom of the Gulf of Venice, in\norder to take his route by Germany; but he pursued his journey through,\nthe territories of the Duke of Austria, whom he had personally affronted\nat the siege of Acre. And now, neither keeping himself out of the power\nof that prince, nor rousing his generosity by seeming to confide in it,\nhe attempted to get through his dominions in disguise. Sovereigns do not\neasily assume the private character; their pride seldom suffers their\ndisguise to be complete: besides, Richard had made himself but too well\nknown. The Duke, transported with the opportunity of base revenge,\ndiscovered him, seized him, and threw him into prison; from whence he\nwas only released to be thrown into another. The Emperor claimed him,\nand, without regarding in this unfortunate captive the common dignity of\nsovereigns, or his great actions in the common cause of Europe, treated\nhim with yet greater cruelty. To give a color of justice to his\nviolence, he proposed to accuse Richard at the Diet of the Empire upon\ncertain articles relative to his conduct in the Holy Land.\n\nThe news of the king's captivity caused the greatest consternation in\nall his good subjects; but it revived the hopes and machinations of\nPrince John, who bound himself by closer ties than ever to the King of\nFrance, seized upon some strongholds in England, and, industriously\nspreading a report of his brother's death, publicly laid claim to the\ncrown as lawful successor. All his endeavors, however, served only to\nexcite the indignation of the people, and to attach them the more firmly\nto their unfortunate prince. Eleanor, the queen dowager, as good a\nmother as she had been a bad wife, acted with the utmost vigor and\nprudence to retain them in their duty, and omitted no means to procure\nthe liberty of her son. The nation seconded her with a zeal, in their\ncircumstances, uncommon. No tyrant ever imposed so severe a tax upon his\npeople as the affection of the people of England, already exhausted,\nlevied upon themselves. The most favored religious orders were charged\non this occasion. The Church plate was sold. The ornaments of the most\nholy relics were not spared. And, indeed, nothing serves more to\ndemonstrate the poverty of the kingdom, reduced by internal dissensions\nand remote wars, at that time, than the extreme difficulty of collecting\nthe king's ransom, which amounted to no more than one hundred thousand\nmarks of silver, Cologne weight. For raising this sum, the first\ntaxation, the most heavy and general that was ever known in England,\nproved altogether insufficient. Another taxation was set on foot. It was\nlevied with the same rigor as the former, and still fell short.\nAmbassadors were sent into Germany with all that could be raised, and\nwith hostages for the payment of whatever remained. The king met these\nambassadors as he was carried in chains to plead his cause before the\nDiet of the Empire. The ambassadors burst into tears at this affecting\nsight, and wept aloud; but Richard, though touched no less with the\naffectionate loyalty of his subjects than with his own fallen condition,\npreserved his dignity entire in his misfortunes, and with a cheerful air\ninquired of the state of his dominions, the behavior of the King of\nScotland, and the fidelity of his brother, the Count John. At the Diet,\nno longer protected by the character of a sovereign, he was supported by\nhis personal abilities. He had a ready wit and great natural eloquence;\nand his high reputation and the weight of his cause pleading for him\nmore strongly, the Diet at last interested itself in his favor, and\nprevailed on the Emperor to accept an excessive ransom for dismissing a\nprisoner whom he detained without the least color of justice. Philip\nmoved heaven and earth to prevent his enlargement: he negotiated, he\npromised, he flattered, he threatened, he outbid his extravagant ransom.\nThe Emperor, in his own nature more inclined to the bribe, which tempted\nhim to be base, hesitated a long time between these offers. But as the\npayment of the ransom was more certain than Philip's promises, and as\nthe instances of the Diet, and the menaces of the Pope, who protected\nRichard, as a prince serving under the Cross, were of more immediate\nconsequence than his threats, Richard was at length released; and though\nit is said the Emperor endeavored to seize him again, to extort an other\nransom, he escaped safely into England.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1194]\n\nRichard, on his coming to England, found all things in the utmost\nconfusion; but before he attempted to apply a remedy to so obstinate a\ndisease, in order to wipe off any degrading ideas which might have\narisen from his imprisonment, he caused himself to be new crowned. Then\nholding his Court of Great Council at Southampton, he made some useful\nregulations in the distribution of justice. He called some great\noffenders to a strict account. Count John deserved no favor, and he lay\nentirely at the king's mercy, who, by an unparalleled generosity,\npardoned him his multiplied offences, only depriving him of the power of\nwhich he had made so bad a use. Generosity did not oblige him to forget\nthe hostilities of the King of France. But to prosecute the war money\nwas wanting, which new taxes and new devices supplied with difficulty\nand with dishonor. All the mean oppressions of a necessitous government\nwere exercised on this occasion. All the grants which were made on the\nking's departure to the Holy Land were revoked, on the weak pretence\nthat the purchasers had sufficient recompense whilst they held them.\nNecessity seemed to justify this, as well as many other measures that\nwere equally violent. The whole revenue of the crown had been\ndissipated; means to support its dignity must be found; and these means\nwere the least unpopular, as most men saw with pleasure the wants of\ngovernment fall upon those who had started into a sudden greatness by\ntaking advantage of those wants.\n\nRichard renewed the war with Philip, which continued, though frequently\ninterrupted by truces, for about five years. In this war Richard\nsignalized himself by that irresistible courage which on all occasions\ngave him a superiority over the King of France. But his revenues were\nexhausted; a great scarcity reigned both in France and England; and the\nirregular manner of carrying on war in those days prevented a clear\ndecision in favor of either party. Richard had still an eye on the Holy\nLand, which he considered as the only province worthy of his arms; and\nthis continually diverted his thoughts from the steady prosecution of\nthe war in France. The Crusade, like a superior orb, moved along with\nall the particular systems of politics of that time, and suspended,\naccelerated, or put back all operations on motives foreign to the things\nthemselves. In this war it must be remarked, that Richard made a\nconsiderable use of the mercenaries who had been so serviceable to Henry\nthe Second; and the King of France, perceiving how much his father,\nLouis, had suffered by a want of that advantage, kept on foot a standing\narmy in constant pay, which none of his predecessors had done before\nhim, and which afterwards for a long time very unaccountably fell into\ndisuse in both kingdoms.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1199.]\n\nWhilst this war was carried on, by intervals and starts, it came to the\nears of Richard that a nobleman of Limoges had found on his lands a\nconsiderable hidden treasure. The king, necessitous and rapacious to the\nlast degree, and stimulated by the exaggeration and marvellous\ncircumstances which always attend the report of such discoveries,\nimmediately sent to demand the treasure, under pretence of the rights of\nseigniory. The Limosin, either because he had really discovered nothing\nor that he was unwilling to part with so valuable an acquisition,\nrefused to comply with the king's demand, and fortified his castle.\nEnraged at the disappointment, Richard relinquished the important\naffairs in which he was engaged, and laid siege to this castle with all\nthe eagerness of a man who has his heart set upon a trifle. In this\nsiege he received a wound from an arrow, and it proved mortal; but in\nthe last, as in all the other acts of his life, something truly noble\nshone out amidst the rash and irregular motions of his mind. The castle\nwas taken before he died. The man from whom Richard had received the\nwound was brought before him. Being asked why he levelled his arrow at\nthe king, he answered, with an undaunted countenance, \"that the king\nwith his own hand had slain his two brothers; that he thanked God who\ngave him an opportunity to revenge their deaths even with the certainty\nof his own.\" Richard, more touched with the magnanimity of the man than\noffended at the injury he had received or the boldness of the answer,\nordered that his life should be spared. He appointed his brother John to\nthe succession; and with these acts ended a life and reign distinguished\nby a great variety of fortunes in different parts of the world, and\ncrowned with great military glory, but without any accession of power to\nhimself, or prosperity to his people, whom he entirely neglected, and\nreduced, by his imprudence and misfortunes, to no small indigence and\ndistress.\n\nIn many respects, a striking parallel presents itself between this\nancient King of England and Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden. They were\nboth inordinately desirous of war, and rather generals than kings. Both\nwere rather fond of glory than ambitious of empire. Both of them made\nand deposed sovereigns. They both carried on their wars at a distance\nfrom home. They were both made prisoners by a friend and ally. They were\nboth reduced by an adversary inferior in war, but above them in the arts\nof rule. After spending their lives in remote adventures, each perished\nat last near home in enterprises not suited to the splendor of their\nformer exploits. Both died childless. And both, by the neglect of their\naffairs and the severity of their government, gave their subjects\nprovocation and encouragement to revive their freedom. In all these\nrespects the two characters were alike; but Richard fell as much short\nof the Swedish hero in temperance, chastity, and equality of mind as he\nexceeded him in wit and eloquence. Some of his sayings are the most\nspirited that we find in that time; and some of his verses remain, which\nis a barbarous age might have passed for poetry.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nREIGN OF JOHN.\n\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1199]\n\nWe are now arrived at one of the most memorable periods in the English\nstory, whether we consider the astonishing revolutions which were then\nwrought, the calamities in which both the prince and people were\ninvolved, or the happy consequences which, arising from the midst of\nthose calamities, have constituted the glory and prosperity of England\nfor so many years. We shall see a throne founded in arms, and augmented\nby the successive policy of five able princes, at once shaken to its\nfoundations: first made tributary by the arts of a foreign power; then\nlimited, and almost overturned, by the violence of its subjects. We\nshall see a king, to reduce his people to obedience, draw into his\nterritories a tumultuary foreign army, and destroy his country instead\nof establishing his government. We shall behold the people, grown\ndesperate, call in another foreign army, with a foreign prince at its\nhead, and throw away that liberty which they had sacrificed everything\nto preserve. We shall see the arms of this prince successful against an\nestablished king in the vigor of his years, ebbing in the full tide of\ntheir prosperity, and yielding to an infant: after this, peace and order\nand liberty restored, the foreign force and foreign title purged off,\nand all things settled as happily as beyond all hope.\n\nRichard dying without lawful issue, the succession to his dominions\nagain became dubious. They consisted of various territories, governed by\nvarious rules of descent, and all of them uncertain. There were two\ncompetitors: the first was Prince John, youngest son of Henry the\nSecond; the other was Arthur, son of Constance of Bretagne, by Geoffrey,\nthe third son of that monarch. If the right of consanguinity were only\nconsidered, the title of John to the whole succession had been\nindubitable. If the right of representation had then prevailed, which\nnow universally prevails, Arthur, as standing in the place of his\nfather, Geoffrey, had a solid claim. About Brittany there was no\ndispute. Anjou, Poitou, Touraine, and Guienne declared in favor of\nArthur, on the principle of representation. Normandy was entirely for\nJohn. In England the point of law had never been entirely settled, but\nit seemed rather inclined to the side of consanguinity. Therefore in\nEngland, where this point was dubious at best, the claim of Arthur, an\ninfant and a stranger, had little force against the pretensions of John,\ndeclared heir by the will of the late king, supported by his armies,\npossessed of his treasures, and at the head of a powerful party. He\nsecured in his interests Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and\nGlanville, the chief justiciary, and by them the body of the\necclesiastics and the law. It is remarkable, also, that he paid court to\nthe cities and boroughs, which is the first instance of that policy: but\nseveral of these communities now happily began to emerge from their\nslavery, and, taking advantage of the necessities and confusion of the\nlate reign, increased in wealth and consequence, and had then first\nattained a free and regular form of administration. The towns new to\npower declared heartily in favor of a prince who was willing to allow\nthat their declaration could confer a right. The nobility, who saw\nthemselves beset by the Church, the law, and the burghers, had taken no\nmeasures, nor even a resolution, and therefore had nothing left but to\nconcur in acknowledging the title of John, whom they knew and hated. But\nthough they were not able to exclude him from the succession, they had\nstrength enough to oblige him to a solemn promise of restoring those\nliberties and franchises which they had always claimed without having\never enjoyed or even perfectly understood. The clergy also took\nadvantage of the badness of his title to establish one altogether as ill\nfounded. Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the speech which he\ndelivered at the king's coronation, publicly affirmed that the crown of\nEngland was of right elective. He drew his examples in support of this\ndoctrine, not from the histories of the ancient Saxon kings, although a\nspecies of election within a certain family had then frequently\nprevailed, but from the history of the first kings of the Jews: without\ndoubt in order to revive those pretensions which the clergy first set up\nin the election of Stephen, and which they had since been obliged to\nconceal, but had not entirely forgotten.\n\nJohn accepted a sovereignty weakened in the very act by which he\nacquired it; but he submitted to the times. He came to the throne at the\nage of thirty-two. He had entered early into business, and had been\noften involved in difficult and arduous enterprises, in which he\nexperienced a variety of men and fortunes. His father, whilst he was\nvery young, had sent him into Ireland, which kingdom was destined for\nhis portion, in order to habituate that people to their future\nsovereign, and to give the young prince an opportunity of conciliating\nthe favor of his new subjects. But he gave on this occasion no good\nomens of capacity for government. Full of the insolent levity of a young\nman of high rank without education, and surrounded with others equally\nunpractised, he insulted the Irish chiefs, and, ridiculing their uncouth\ngarb and manners, he raised such a disaffection to the English\ngovernment, and so much opposition to it, as all the wisdom of his\nfather's best officers and counsellors was hardly able to overcome. In\nthe decline of his father's life he joined in the rebellion of his\nbrothers, with so much more guilt as with more ingratitude and\nhypocrisy. During the reign of Richard he was the perpetual author of\nseditions and tumults; and yet was pardoned, and even favored by that\nprince to his death, when he very unaccountably appointed him heir to\nall his dominions.\n\nIt was of the utmost moment to John, who had no solid title, to\nconciliate the favor of all the world. Yet one of his first steps,\nwhilst his power still remained dubious and unsettled, was, on pretence\nof consanguinity, to divorce his wife Avisa, with whom he had lived many\nyears, and to marry Isabella of Angoul\u00eame, a woman of extraordinary\nbeauty, but who had been betrothed to Hugh, Count of Marche: thus\ndisgusting at once the powerful friends of his divorced wife, and those\nof the Earl of Marche, whom he had so sensibly wronged.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1200.]\n\nThe King of France, Philip Augustus, saw with pleasure these proceedings\nof John, as he had before rejoiced at the dispute about the succession.\nHe had been always employed, and sometimes with success, to reduce the\nEnglish power through the reigns of one very able and one very warlike\nprince. He had greater advantages in this conjuncture, and a prince of\nquite another character now to contend with. He was therefore not long\nwithout choosing his part; and whilst he secretly encouraged the Count\nof Marche, already stimulated by his private wrongs, he openly supported\nthe claim of Arthur to the Duchies of Anjou and Touraine. It was the\ncharacter of this prince readily to lay aside and as readily to reassume\nhis enterprises, as his affairs demanded. He saw that he had declared\nhimself too rashly, and that he was in danger of being assaulted upon\nevery side. He saw it was necessary to break an alliance, which the nice\ncircumstances and timid character of John would enable him to do. In\nfact, John was at this time united in a close alliance with the Emperor\nand the Earl of Flanders; and these princes were engaged in a war with\nFrance. He had then a most favorable opportunity to establish all his\nclaims, and at the same time to put the King of France out of a\ncondition to question them ever after. But he suffered himself to be\noverreached by the artifices of Philip: he consented to a treaty of\npeace, by which he received an empty acknowledgment of his right to the\ndisputed territories, and in return for which acknowledgment he\nrenounced his alliance with the Emperor. By this act he at once\nstrengthened his enemy, gave up his ally, and lowered his character with\nhis subjects and with all the world.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1201.]\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1202.]\n\nThis treaty was hardly signed, when the ill consequences of his conduct\nbecame evident. The Earl of Marche and Arthur immediately renewed their\nclaims and hostilities under the protection of the King of France, who\nmade a strong diversion by invading Normandy. At the commencement of\nthese motions, John, by virtue of a prerogative hitherto undisputed,\nsummoned his English barons to attend him into France; but instead of a\ncompliance with his orders, he was surprised with a solemn demand of\ntheir ancient liberties. It is astonishing that the barons should at\nthat time have ventured on a resolution of such dangerous importance, as\nthey had provided no sort of means to support them. But the history of\nthose times furnishes many instances of the like want of design in the\nmost momentous affairs, and shows that it is in vain to look for\npolitical causes for the actions of men, who were most commonly directed\nby a brute caprice, and were for the greater part destitute of any fixed\nprinciples of obedience or resistance. The king, sensible of the\nweakness of his barons, fell upon some of their castles with such timely\nvigor, and treated those whom he had reduced with so much severity, that\nthe rest immediately and abjectly submitted. He levied a severe tax upon\ntheir fiefs; and thinking himself more strengthened by this treasure\nthan the forced service of his barons, he excused the personal\nattendance of most of them, and, passing into Normandy, he raised an\narmy there. He found that his enemies had united their forces, and\ninvested the castle of Mirebeau, a place of importance, in which his\nmother, from whom he derived his right to Guienne, was besieged. He flew\nto the relief of this place with the spirit of a greater character, and\nthe success was answerable. The Breton and Poitevin army was defeated,\nhis mother was freed, and the young Duke of Brittany and his sister were\nmade prisoners. The latter he sent into England, to be confined in the\ncastle of Bristol; the former he carried with him to Rouen. The good\nfortune of John now seemed to be at its highest point; but it was\nexalted on a precipice; and this great victory proved the occasion of\nall the evils which afflicted his life.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1203.]\n\nJohn was not of a character to resist the temptation of having the life\nof his rival in his hands. All historians are as fully agreed that he\nmurdered his nephew as they differ in the means by which he accomplished\nthat crime. But the report was soon spread abroad, variously heightened\nin the circumstances by the obscurity of the fact, which left all men at\nliberty to imagine and invent, and excited all those sentiments of pity\nand indignation which a very young prince of great hopes, cruelly\nmurdered by his uncle, naturally inspire. Philip had never missed an\noccasion of endeavoring to ruin the King of England: and having now\nacquired an opportunity of accomplishing that by justice which he had in\nvain sought by ambition, he filled every place with complaints of the\ncruelty of John, whom, as a vassal to the crown of France, the king\naccused of the murder of another vassal, and summoned him to Paris to\nbe tried by his peers. It was by no means consistent either with the\ndignity or safety of John to appear to this summons. He had the argument\nof kings to justify what he had done. But as in all great crimes there\nis something of a latent weakness, and in a vicious caution something\nmaterial is ever neglected, John, satisfied with removing his rival,\ntook no thought about his enemy; but whilst he saw himself sentenced for\nnon-appearance in the Court of Peers, whilst he saw the King of France\nentering Normandy with a vast army in consequence of this sentence, and\nplace after place, castle after castle, falling before him, he passed\nhis time at Rouen in the profoundest tranquillity, indulging himself in\nindolent amusements, and satisfied with vain threatenings and boasts,\nwhich only added greater shame to his inactivity. The English barons who\nhad attended him in this expedition, disaffected from the beginning, and\nnow wearied with being so long witnesses to the ignominy of their\nsovereign, retired to their own country, and there spread the report of\nhis unaccountable sloth and cowardice. John quickly followed them; and\nreturning into his kingdom, polluted with the charge of so heavy a\ncrime, and disgraced by so many follies, instead of aiming by popular\nacts to reestablish his character, he exacted a seventh of their\nmovables from the barons, on pretence that they had deserted his\nservice. He laid the same imposition on the clergy, without giving\nhimself the trouble of seeking for a pretext. He made no proper use of\nthese great supplies, but saw the great city of Rouen, always faithful\nto its sovereigns, and now exerting the most strenuous efforts in his\nfavor, obliged at length to surrender, without the least attempt to\nrelieve it Thus the whole Duchy of Normandy, originally acquired by the\nvalor of his ancestors, and the source from which the greatness of his\nfamily had been derived, after being supported against all shocks for\nthree hundred years, was torn forever from the stock of Rollo, and\nreunited to the crown of France. Immediately all the rest of the\nprovinces which he held on the continent, except a part of Guienne,\ndespairing of his protection, and abhorring his government, threw\nthemselves into the hands of Philip.\n\nMeanwhile the king by his personal vices completed the odium which he\nhad acquired by the impotent violence of his government. Uxorious and\nyet dissolute in his manners, he made no scruple frequently to violate\nthe wives and daughters of his nobility, that rock on which tyranny has\nso often split. Other acts of irregular power, in their greatest\nexcesses, still retain the characters of sovereign authority; but here\nthe vices of the prince intrude into the families of the subject, and,\nwhilst they aggravate the oppression, lower the character of the\noppressor.\n\nIn the disposition which all these causes had concurred universally to\ndiffuse, the slightest motion in his kingdom threatened the most\ndangerous consequences. Those things which in quiet times would have\nonly raised a slight controversy, now, when the minds of men were\nexasperated and inflamed, were capable of affording matter to the\ngreatest revolutions. The affairs of the Church, the winds which mostly\ngoverned the fluctuating people, were to be regarded with the utmost\nattention. Above all, the person who filled the see of Canterbury, which\nstood on a level with the throne itself, was a matter of the last\nimportance. Just at this critical time died Hubert, archbishop of that\nsee, a man who had a large share in procuring the crown for John, and in\nweakening its authority by his acts at the ceremony of the coronation,\nas well as by his subsequent conduct. Immediately on the death of this\nprelate, a cabal of obscure monks, of the Abbey of St. Augustin,\nassemble by night, and first binding themselves by a solemn oath not to\ndivulge their proceedings, until they should be confirmed by the Pope,\nthey elect one Reginald, their sub-prior, Archbishop of Canterbury. The\nperson elected immediately crossed the seas; but his vanity soon\ndiscovered the secret of his greatness. The king received the news of\nthis transaction with surprise and indignation. Provoked at such a\ncontempt of his authority, he fell severely on the monastery, no less\nsurprised than himself at the clandestine proceeding of some of its\nmembers. But the sounder part pacified him in some measure by their\nsubmission. They elected a person recommended by the king, and sent\nfourteen of the most respectable of their body to Rome, to pray that the\nformer proceedings should be annulled, and the later and more regular\nconfirmed. To this matter of contention another was added. A dispute had\nlong subsisted between the suffragan bishops of the province of\nCanterbury and the monks of the Abbey of St. Austin, each claiming a\nright to elect the metropolitan. This dispute was now revived, and\npursued with much vigor. The pretensions of the three contending parties\nwere laid before the Pope, to whom such disputes were highly pleasing,\nas he knew that all claimants willingly conspire to flatter and\naggrandize that authority from which they expect a confirmation of\ntheir own. The first election, he nulled, because its irregularity was\nglaring. The right of the bishops was entirely rejected: the Pope looked\nwith an evil eye upon those whose authority he was every day usurping.\nThe second election was set aside, as made at the king's instance: this\nwas enough to make it very irregular. The canon law had now grown up to\nits full strength. The enlargement of the prerogative of the Pope was\nthe great object of this jurisprudence,--a prerogative which, founded on\nfictitious monuments, that are forged in an ignorant age, easily\nadmitted by a credulous people, and afterwards confirmed and enlarged by\nthese admissions, not satisfied with the supremacy, encroached on every\nminute part of Church government, and had almost annihilated the\nepiscopal jurisdiction throughout Europe. Some canons had given the\nmetropolitan a power of nominating a bishop, when the circumstances of\nthe election were palpably irregular; and as it does not appear that\nthere was any other judge of the irregularity than the metropolitan\nhimself, the election below in effect became nugatory. The Pope, taking\nthe irregularity in this case for granted, in virtue of this canon, and\nby his plenitude of power, ordered the deputies of Canterbury to proceed\nto a new election. At the same time he recommended to their choice\nStephen Langton, their countryman,--a person already distinguished for\nhis learning, of irreproachable morals, and free from every canonical\nimpediment. This authoritative request the monks had not the courage to\noppose in the Pope's presence and in his own city. They murmured, and\nsubmitted.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1208.]\n\nIn England this proceeding was not so easily ratified. John drove the\nmonks of Canterbury from their monastery, and, having seized upon their\nrevenues, threatened the effects of the same indignation against all\nthose who seemed inclined to acquiesce in the proceedings of Rome. But\nRome had not made so bold a step with intention to recede. On the king's\npositive refusal to admit Langton, and the expulsion of the monks of\nCanterbury, England was laid under an interdict. Then divine service at\nonce ceased throughout the kingdom; the churches were shut; the\nsacraments were suspended; the dead were buried without honor, in\nhighways and ditches, and the living deprived of all spiritual comfort.\nOn the other hand, the king let loose his indignation against the\necclesiastics,--seizing their goods, throwing many into prison, and\npermitting or encouraging all sorts of violence against them. The\nkingdom was thrown into the most terrible confusion; whilst the people,\nuncertain of the object or measure of their allegiance, and distracted\nwith opposite principles of duty, saw themselves deprived of their\nreligious rites by the ministers of religion, and their king, furious\nwith wrongs not caused by them, falling indiscriminately on the innocent\nand the guilty: for John, instead of soothing his people in this their\ncommon calamity, sought to terrify them into obedience. In a progress\nwhich he made into the North, he threw down the inclosures of his\nforests, to let loose the wild beasts upon their lands; and as he saw\nthe Papal proceedings increase with his opposition, he thought it\nnecessary to strengthen himself by new devices. He extorted hostages and\na new oath of fidelity from his barons. He raised a great army, to\ndivert the thoughts of his subjects from brooding too much on their\ndistracted condition. This army he transported into Ireland; and as it\nhappened to his father in a similar dispute with the Pope, whilst he was\ndubious of his hereditary kingdom, he subdued Ireland. At this time he\nis said to have established the English laws in that kingdom, and to\nhave appointed itinerant justices.\n\nAt length the sentence of excommunication was fulminated against the\nking. In the same year the same sentence was pronounced upon the Emperor\nOtho; and this daring Pope was not afraid at once to drive to\nextremities the two greatest princes in Europe. And truly, nothing is\nmore remarkable than the uniform steadiness of the court of Rome in the\npursuits of her ambitious projects. For, knowing that pretensions which\nstand merely in opinion cannot bear to be questioned in any part, though\nshe had hitherto seen the interdict produce but little effect, and\nperceived that the excommunication itself could draw scarce one poor\nbigot from the king's service, yet she receded not the least point from\nthe utmost of her demand. She broke off an accommodation just on the\npoint of being concluded, because the king refused to repair the losses\nwhich the clergy had suffered, though he agreed to everything else, and\neven submitted to receive the archbishop, who, being obtruded on him,\nhad in reality been set over him. But the Pope, bold as politic,\ndetermined to render him perfectly submissive, and to this purpose\nbrought out the last arms of the ecclesiastic stores, which were\nreserved for the most extreme occasions. Having first released the\nEnglish subjects from their oath of allegiance, by an unheard-of\npresumption, he formally deposed John from his throne and dignity; he\ninvited the King of France to take possession of the forfeited crown;\nhe called forth all persons from all parts of Europe to assist in this\nexpedition, by the pardons and privileges of those who fought for the\nHoly Land.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1218.]\n\nThis proceeding did not astonish the world. The King of France, having\ndriven John from all he held on the continent, gladly saw religion\nitself invite him to farther conquests. He summoned all his vassals,\nunder the penalty of felony, and the opprobrious name of\n_culvertage_,[82] (a name of all things dreaded by both nations,) to\nattend in this expedition; and such force had this threat, and the hope\nof plunder in England, that a very great army was in a short time\nassembled. A fleet also rendezvoused in the mouth of the Seine, by the\nwriters of these times said to consist of seventeen hundred sail. On\nthis occasion John roused all his powers. He called upon all his people\nwho by the duty of their tenure or allegiance were obliged to defend\ntheir lord and king, and in his writs stimulated them by the same\nthreats of _culvertage_ which had been employed against him. They\noperated powerfully in his favor. His fleet in number exceeded the vast\nnavy of France; his army was in everything but heartiness to the cause\nequal, and, extending along the coast of Kent, expected the descent of\nthe French forces.\n\nWhilst these two mighty armies overspread the opposite coasts, and the\nsea was covered with their fleets, and the decision of so vast an event\nwas hourly expected, various thoughts arose in the minds of those who\nmoved the springs of these affairs. John, at the head of one of the\nfinest armies in the world, trembled inwardly, when he reflected how\nlittle he possessed or merited their confidence. Wounded by the\nconsciousness of his crimes, excommunicated by the Pope, hated by his\nsubjects, in danger of being at once abandoned by heaven and earth, he\nwas filled with the most fearful anxiety. The legates of the Pope had\nhitherto seen everything succeed to their wish. But having made use of\nan instrument too great for them to wield, they apprehended, that, when\nit had overthrown their adversary, it might recoil upon the court of\nRome itself; that to add England to the rest of Philip's great\npossessions was not the way to make him humble; and that in ruining John\nto aggrandize that monarch, they should set up a powerful enemy in the\nplace of a submissive vassal.\n\nThey had done enough to give them a superiority in any negotiation, and\nthey privately sent an embassy to the King of England. Finding him very\ntractable, they hasted to complete the treaty. The Pope's legate,\nPandulph, was intrusted with this affair. He knew the nature of men to\nbe such that they seldom engage willingly, if the whole of an hardship\nbe shown them at first, but that, having advanced a certain length,\ntheir former concessions are an argument with them to advance further,\nand to give all because they have already given a great deal. Therefore\nhe began with exacting an oath from the king, by which, without showing\nthe extent of his design, he engaged him to everything he could ask.\nJohn swore to submit to the legate in all things relating to his\nexcommunication. And first he was obliged to accept Langton as\narchbishop; then to restore the monks of Canterbury, and other deprived\necclesiastics, and to make them a full indemnification for all their\nlosses. And now, by these concessions, all things seemed to be perfectly\nsettled. The cause of the quarrel was entirely removed. But when the\nking expected for so perfect a submission a full absolution, the legate\nbegan a labored harangue on his rebellion, his tyranny, and the\ninnumerable sins he had committed, and in conclusion declared that there\nwas no way left to appease God and the Church but to resign his crown to\nthe Holy See, from whose hands he should receive it purified from all\npollutions, and hold it for the future by homage and an annual tribute.\n\nJohn was struck motionless at a demand so extravagant and unexpected. He\nknew not on which side to turn. If he cast his eyes toward the coast of\nFrance, he there saw his enemy Philip, who considered him as a criminal\nas well as an enemy, and who aimed not only at his crown, but his life,\nat the head of an innumerable multitude of fierce people, ready to rush\nin upon him. If he looked at his own army, he saw nothing there but\ncoldness, disaffection, uncertainty, distrust, and a strength in which\nhe knew not whether he ought most to confide or fear. On the other hand,\nthe Papal thunders, from the wounds of which he was still sore, were\nlevelled full at his head. He could not look steadily at these\ncomplicated difficulties: and truly it is hard to say what choice he\nhad, if any choice were left to kings in what concerns the independence\nof their crown. Surrounded, therefore, with these difficulties, and that\nall his late humiliations might not be rendered as ineffectual as they\nwere ignominious, he took the last step, and in the presence of a\nnumerous assembly of his peers and prelates, who turned their eyes from\nthis mortifying sight, formally resigned his crown to the Pope's\nlegate, to whom at the same time he did homage and paid the first fruits\nof his tribute. Nothing could be added to the humiliation of the king\nupon this occasion, but the insolence of the legate, who spurned the\ntreasure with his foot, and let the crown remain a long time on the\nground, before he restored it to the degraded owner.\n\nIn this proceeding the motives of the king may be easily discovered; but\nhow the barons of the kingdom, who were deeply concerned, suffered\nwithout any protestation the independency of the crown to be thus\nforfeited is mentioned by no historian of that time. In civil tumults it\nis astonishing how little regard is paid by all parties to the honor or\nsafety of their country. The king's friends were probably induced to\nacquiesce by the same motives that had influenced the king. His enemies,\nwho were the most numerous, perhaps saw his abasement with pleasure, as\nthey knew this action might be one day employed against him with effect.\nTo the bigots it was enough that it aggrandized the Pope. It is perhaps\nworthy of observation that the conduct of Pandulph towards King John\nbore a very great affinity to that of the Roman consuls to the people of\nCarthage in the last Punic War,--drawing them from concession to\nconcession, and carefully concealing their design, until they made it\nimpossible for the Carthaginians to resist. Such a strong resemblance\ndid the same ambition produce in such distant times; and it is far from\nthe sole instance in which we may trace a similarity between the spirit\nand conduct of the former and latter Rome in their common design on the\nliberties of mankind.\n\nThe legates, having thus triumphed over the king, passed back into\nFrance, but without relaxing the interdict or excommunication, which\nthey still left hanging over him, lest he should be tempted to throw off\nthe chains of his new subjection. Arriving in France, they delivered\ntheir orders to Philip with as much haughtiness as they had done to\nJohn. They told him that the end of the war was answered in the\nhumiliation of the King of England, who had been rendered a dutiful son\nof the Church,--and that, if the King of France should, after this\nnotice, proceed to further hostilities, he had to apprehend the same\nsentence which had humbled his adversary. Philip, who had not raised so\ngreat an army with a view of reforming the manners of King John, would\nhave slighted these threats, had he not found that they were seconded by\nthe ill dispositions of a part of his own army. The Earl of Flanders,\nalways disaffected to his cause, was glad of this opportunity to oppose\nhim, and, only following him through fear, withdrew his forces, and now\nopenly opposed him. Philip turned his arms against his revolted vassal.\nThe cause of John was revived by this dissension, and his courage seemed\nrekindled. Making one effort of a vigorous mind, he brought his fleet to\nan action with the French navy, which he entirely destroyed on the coast\nof Flanders, and thus freed himself from the terror of an invasion. But\nwhen he intended to embark and improve his success, the barons refused\nto follow him. They alleged that he was still excommunicated, and that\nthey would not follow a lord under the censures of the Church. This\ndemonstrated to the king the necessity of a speedy absolution; and he\nreceived it this year from the hands of Cardinal Langton.\n\nThat archbishop no sooner came into the kingdom than he discovered\ndesigns very different from those which the Pope had raised him to\npromote. He formed schemes of a very deep and extensive nature, and\nbecame the first mover in all the affairs which distinguish the\nremainder of this reign. In the oath which he administered to John on\nhis absolution, he did not confine himself solely to the ecclesiastical\ngrievances, but made him swear to amend his civil government, to raise\nno tax without the consent of the Great Council, and to punish no man\nbut by the judgment of his court. In these terms we may Bee the Great\nCharter traced in miniature. A new scene of contention was opened; new\npretensions were started; a new scheme was displayed. One dispute was\nhardly closed, when he was involved in another; and this unfortunate\nking soon discovered that to renounce his dignity was not the way to\nsecure his repose. For, being cleared of the excommunication, he\nresolved to pursue the war in France, in which he was not without a\nprospect of success; but the barons refused upon new pretences, and not\na man would serve. The king, incensed to find himself equally opposed in\nhis lawful and unlawful commands, prepared to avenge himself in his\naccustomed manner, and to reduce the barons to obedience by carrying war\ninto their estates. But he found by this experiment that his power was\nat an end. The Archbishop followed him, confronted him with the\nliberties of his people, reminded him of his late oath, and threatened\nto excommunicate every person who should obey him in his illegal\nproceedings. The king, first provoked, afterwards terrified at this\nresolution, forbore to prosecute the recusants.\n\nThe English barons had privileges, which they knew to have been\nviolated; they had always kept up the memory of the ancient Saxon\nliberty; and if they were the conquerors of Britain, they did not think\nthat their own servitude was the just fruit of their victory. They had,\nhowever, but an indistinct view of the object at which they aimed; they\nrather felt their wrongs than understood the cause of them; and having\nno head nor council, they were more in a condition of distressing their\nking and disgracing their country by their disobedience than of applying\nany effectual remedy to their grievances. Langton saw these\ndispositions, and these wants. He had conceived a settled plan for\nreducing the king, and all his actions tended to carry it into\nexecution. This prelate, under pretence of holding an ecclesiastical\nsynod, drew together privately some of the principal barons to the\nChurch of St. Paul in London. There, having expatiated on the miseries\nwhich the kingdom suffered, and having explained at the same time the\nliberties to which it was entitled, he produced the famous charter of\nHenry the First, long concealed, and of which, with infinite difficulty,\nhe had procured an authentic copy. This he held up to the barons as the\nstandard about which they were to unite. These were the liberties which\ntheir ancestors had received by the free concession of a former king,\nand these the rights which their virtue was to force from the present,\nif (which God forbid!) they should find it necessary to have recourse to\nsuch extremities. The barons, transported to find an authentic\ninstrument to justify their discontent and to explain and sanction their\npretensions, covered the Archbishop with praises, readily confederated\nto support their demands, and, binding themselves by every obligation of\nhuman and religious faith, to vigor, unanimity, and secrecy, they depart\nto confederate others in their design.\n\nThis plot was in the hands of too many to be perfectly concealed; and\nJohn saw, without knowing how to ward it off, a more dangerous blow\nlevelled at his authority than any of the former. He had no resources\nwithin his kingdom, where all ranks and orders were united against him\nby one common hatred. Foreign alliance he had none, among temporal\npowers. He endeavored, therefore, if possible, to draw some benefit from\nthe misfortune of his new circumstances: he threw himself upon the\nprotection of the Papal power, which he had so long and with such reason\nopposed. The Pope readily received him into his protection, but took\nthis occasion to make him purchase it by another and more formal\nresignation of his crown. His present necessities and his habits of\nhumiliation made this second degradation easy to the king. But Langton,\nwho no longer acted in subservience to the Pope, from whom he had now\nnothing further to expect, and who had put himself at the head of the\npatrons of civil liberty, loudly exclaimed at this indignity, protested\nagainst the resignation, and laid his protestation on the altar.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1214.]\n\nThis was more disagreeable to the barons than the first resignation, as\nthey were sensible that he now degraded himself only to humble his\nsubjects. They were, however, once more patient witnesses to that\nignominious act,--and were so much overawed by the Pope, or had brought\ntheir design to so little maturity, that the king, in spite of it, still\nfound means and authority to raise an army, with which he made a final\neffort to recover some part of his dominions in France. The juncture was\naltogether favorable to his design. Philip had all his attention\nabundantly employed in another quarter, against the terrible attacks of\nthe Emperor Otho in a confederacy with the Earl of Flanders. John,\nstrengthened by this diversion, carried on the war in Poitou for some\ntime with good appearances. The Battle of Bouvines, which was fought\nthis year, put an end to all these hopes. In this battle, the Imperial\narmy, consisting of one hundred and fifty thousand men, were defeated by\na third of their number of French forces. The Emperor himself, with\ndifficulty escaping from the field, survived but a short time a battle\nwhich entirely broke his strength. So signal a success established the\ngrandeur of France upon immovable foundations. Philip rose continually\nin reputation and power, whilst John continually declined in both; and\nas the King of France was now ready to employ against him all his\nforces, so lately victorious, he sued, by the mediation of the Pope's\nlegate, for a truce, which was granted to him for five years. Such\ntruces stood in the place of regular treaties of peace, which were not\noften made at that time.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1215.]\n\nThe barons of England had made use of the king's absence to bring their\nconfederacy to form; and now, seeing him return with so little credit,\nhis allies discomfited, and no hope of a party among his subjects, they\nappeared in a body before him at London. All in complete armor, and in\nthe guise of defiance, they presented a petition, very humble in the\nlanguage, but excessive in the substance, in which they declared their\nliberties, and prayed that they might be formally allowed and\nestablished by the royal authority. The king resolved not to submit to\ntheir demands; but being at present in no condition to resist, he\nrequired time to consider of so important an affair. The time which was\ngranted to the king to deliberate he employed in finding means to avoid\na compliance. He took the cross, by which he hoped to render his person\nsacred; he obliged the people to renew their oath of fealty; and,\nlastly, he had recourse to the Pope, fortified by all the devices which\ncould be used to supply the place of a real strength, he ventured, when\nthe barons renewed their demands, to give them a positive refusal; he\nswore by the feet of God (his usual oath) that he would never grant them\nsuch liberties as must make a slave of himself.\n\nThe barons, on this answer, immediately fly to arms: they rise in every\npart; they form an army, and appoint a leader; and as they knew that no\ndesign can involve all sorts of people or inspire them with\nextraordinary resolution, unless it be animated with religion, they call\ntheir leader the Marshal of the Army of God and Holy Church. The king\nwas wholly unprovided against so general a defection. The city of\nLondon, the possession of which has generally proved a decisive\nadvantage in the English civil wars, was betrayed to the barons. He\nmight rather be said, to be imprisoned than defended in the Tower of\nLondon, to which close siege was laid; whilst the marshal of the barons'\narmy, exercising the prerogatives of royalty, issued writs to summon all\nthe lords to join the army of liberty, threatening equally all those who\nshould adhere to the king and those who betrayed an indifference to the\ncause by their neutrality. John, deserted by all, had no resource but in\ntemporizing and submission. Without questioning in any part the terms of\na treaty which he intended to observe in none, he agreed to everything\nthe barons thought fit to ask, hoping that the exorbitancy of their\ndemands would justify in the eyes of the world the breach of his\npromises. The instruments by which the barons secured their liberties\nwere drawn up in form of charters, and in the manner by which grants had\nbeen usually made to monasteries, with a preamble signifying that it was\ndone for the benefit of the king's soul and those of his ancestors. For\nthe place of solemnizing this remarkable act they chose a large field,\noverlooked by Windsor, called Running-mede, which, in our present\ntongue, signifies the Meadow of Council,--a place long consecrated by\npublic opinion, as that wherein the quarrels and wars which arose in the\nEnglish nation, when divided into kingdoms or factions, had been\nterminated from the remotest times. Here it was that King John, on the\n15th day of June, in the year of our Lord 1215, signed those two\nmemorable instruments which first disarmed the crown of its unlimited\nprerogatives, and laid the foundation of English liberty. One was called\nthe Great Charter; the other, the Charter of the Forest. If we look back\nto the state of the nation at that time, we shall the better comprehend\nthe spirit and necessity of these grants.\n\nBesides the ecclesiastical jurisprudence, at that time, two systems of\nlaws, very different from each other in their object, their reason, and\ntheir authority, regulated the interior of the kingdom: the Forest Law,\nand the Common Law. After the Northern nations had settled here, and in\nother parts of Europe, hunting, which had formerly been the chief means\nof their subsistence, still continued their favorite diversion. Great\ntracts of each country, wasted by the wars in which it was conquered,\nwere set apart for this kind of sport, and guarded in a state of\ndesolation by strict laws and severe penalties. When, such waste lands\nwere in the hands of subjects, they were called Chases; when in the\npower of the sovereign, they were denominated Forests. These forests lay\nproperly within the jurisdiction of no hundred, county, or bishopric;\nand therefore, being out both of the Common and the Spiritual Law, they\nwere governed by a law of their own, which was such as the king by his\nprivate will thought proper to impose. There were reckoned in England no\nless than sixty-eight royal forests, some of them of vast extent. In\nthese great tracts were many scattered inhabitants; and several persons\nhad property of woodland, and other soil, inclosed within their bounds.\nHere the king had separate courts and particular justiciaries; a\ncomplete jurisprudence, with all its ceremonies and terms of art, was\nformed; and it appears that these laws were better digested and more\ncarefully enforced than those which belonged to civil government. They\nhad, indeed, all the qualities of the worst of laws. Their professed\nobject was to keep a great part of the nation desolate. They hindered\ncommunication and destroyed industry. They had a trivial object, and\nmost severe sanctions; for, as they belonged immediately to the king's\npersonal pleasures, by the lax interpretation of treason in those days,\nall considerable offences against the Forest Law, such as killing the\nbeasts of game, were considered as high treason, and punished, as high\ntreason then was, by truncation of limbs and loss of eyes and testicles.\nHence arose a thousand abuses, vexatious suits, and pretences for\nimposition upon all those who lived in or near these places. The deer\nwere suffered to run loose upon their lands; and many oppressions were\nused with relation to the claim of commonage which the people had in\nmost of the forests. The Norman kings were not the first makers of the\nForest Law; it subsisted under the Saxon and Danish kings. Canute the\nGreat composed a body of those laws, which still remains. But under the\nNorman kings they were enforced with greater rigor, as the whole tenor\nof the Norman government was more rigorous. Besides, new forests were\nfrequently made, by which private property was outraged in a grievous\nmanner. Nothing, perhaps, shows more clearly how little men are able to\ndepart from the common course of affairs than that the Norman kings,\nprinces of great capacity, and extremely desirous of absolute power, did\nnot think of peopling these forests, places under their own uncontrolled\ndominion, and which might have served as so many garrisons dispersed\nthroughout the country. The Charter of the Forests had for its object\nthe disafforesting several of those tracts, the prevention of future\nafforestings, the mitigation and ascertainment of the punishments for\nbreaches of the Forest Law.\n\nThe Common Law, as it then prevailed in England, was in a great measure\ncomposed of some remnants of the old Saxon customs, joined to the feudal\ninstitutions brought in at the Norman Conquest. And it is here to be\nobserved, that the constitutions of Magna Charta are by no means a\nrenewal of the Laws of St. Edward, or the ancient Saxon laws, as our\nhistorians and law-writers generally, though very groundlessly, assert.\nThey bear no resemblance in any particular to the Laws of St. Edward, or\nto any other collection of these ancient institutions. Indeed, how\nshould they? The object of Magna Charta is the correction of the feudal\npolicy, which was first introduced, at least in any regular form, at the\nConquest, and did not subsist before it. It may be further observed,\nthat in the preamble to the Great Charter it is stipulated that the\nbarons shall _hold_ the liberties there granted _to them and their\nheirs, from the king and his heirs_; which shows that the doctrine of an\nunalienable tenure was always uppermost in their minds. Their idea even\nof liberty was not (if I may use the expression) perfectly free; and\nthey did not claim to possess their privileges upon any natural\nprinciple or independent bottom, but just as they held their lands from\nthe king. This is worthy of observation.\n\nBy the Feudal Law, all landed property is, by a feigned conclusion,\nsupposed to be derived, and therefore to be mediately or immediately\nheld, from the crown. If some estates were so derived, others were\ncertainly procured by the same original title of conquest by which the\ncrown itself was acquired, and the derivation from the king could in\nreason only be considered as a fiction of law. But its consequent rights\nbeing once supposed, many real charges and burdens grew from a fiction\nmade only for the preservation of subordination; and in consequence of\nthis, a great power was exercised over the persons and estates of the\ntenants. The fines on the succession to an estate, called in the feudal\nlanguage _reliefs_, were not fixed to any certainty, and were therefore\nfrequently made so excessive that they might rather be considered as\nredemptions or new purchases than acknowledgments of superiority and\ntenure. With respect to that most important article of marriage, there\nwas, in the very nature of the feudal holding, a great restraint laid\nupon it. It was of importance to the lord that the person who received\nthe feud should be submissive to him; he had, therefore, a right to\ninterfere in the marriage of the heiress who inherited the feud. This\nright was carried further than the necessity required: the male heir\nhimself was obliged to marry according to the choice of his lord; and\neven widows, who had made one sacrifice to the feudal tyranny, were\nneither suffered to continue in the widowed state nor to choose for\nthemselves the partners of their second bed. In fact, marriage was\npublicly set up to sale. The ancient records of the Exchequer afford\nmany instances where some women purchased by heavy fines the privilege\nof a single life, some the free choice of an husband, others the liberty\nof rejecting some person particularly disagreeable. And what may appear\nextraordinary, there are not wanting examples where a woman has fined in\na considerable sum, that she might not be compelled to marry a certain\nman; the suitor, on the other hand, has outbid her, and solely by\noffering more for the marriage than the heiress could to prevent it, he\ncarried his point directly and avowedly against her inclinations. Now,\nas the king claimed no right over his immediate tenants that they did\nnot exercise in the same or in a more oppressive manner over their\nvassals, it is hard to conceive a more general and cruel grievance than\nthis shameful market, which so universally outraged the most sacred\nrelations among mankind. But the tyranny over women was not over with\nthe marriage. As the king seized into his hands the estate of every\ndeceased tenant in order to secure his relief, the widow was driven\noften by an heavy composition to purchase the admission to her dower,\ninto which it should seem she could not enter without the king's\nconsent.\n\nAll these were marks of a real and grievous servitude. The Great Charter\nwas made, not to destroy the root, but to cut short the overgrown\nbranches of the feudal service: first, in moderating and in reducing to\na certainty the reliefs which the king's tenants paid on succeeding to\ntheir estate according to their rank; and, secondly, in taking off some\nof the burdens which had been laid on marriage, whether compulsory or\nrestrictive, and thereby preventing that shameful market which had been\nmade in the persons of heirs, and the most sacred things amongst\nmankind.\n\nThere were other provisions made in the Great Charter that went deeper\nthan the feudal tenure, and affected the whole body of the civil\ngovernment. A great part of the king's revenue then consisted in the\nfines and amercements which were imposed in his courts. A fine was paid\nthere for liberty to commence or to conclude a suit. The punishment of\noffences by fine was discretionary; and this discretionary power had\nbeen very much abused. But by Magna Charta, things were so ordered, that\na delinquent might be punished, but not ruined, by a fine or amercement;\nbecause the degree of his offence, and the rank he held, were to be\ntaken into consideration. His freehold, his merchandise, and those\ninstruments by which he obtained his livelihood were made sacred from\nsuch impositions.\n\nA more grand reform was made with regard to the administration of\njustice. The kings in those days seldom resided long in one place, and\ntheir courts followed their persons. This erratic justice must have been\nproductive of infinite inconvenience to the litigants. It was now\nprovided that civil suits, called _Common Pleas_, should be fixed to\nsome certain place. Thus one branch of jurisdiction was separated from\nthe king's court, and detached from his person. They had not yet come to\nthat maturity of jurisprudence as to think this might be made to extend\nto criminal law also, and that the latter was an object of still greater\nimportance. But even the former may be considered as a great revolution.\nA tribunal, a creature of mere law, independent of personal power, was\nestablished; and this separation of a king's authority from his person\nwas a matter of vast consequence towards introducing ideas of freedom,\nand confirming the sacredness and majesty of laws.\n\nBut the grand article, and that which cemented all the parts of the\nfabric of liberty, was this,--that \"no freeman shall be taken, or\nimprisoned, or disseized, or outlawed, or banished, or in any wise\ndestroyed, but by judgment of his peers.\"\n\nThere is another article of nearly as much consequence as the former,\nconsidering the state of the nation at that time, by which it is\nprovided that the barons shall grant to their tenants the same liberties\nwhich they had stipulated for themselves. This prevented the kingdom\nfrom degenerating into the worst imaginable government, a feudal\naristocracy. The English barons were not in the condition of those\ngreat princes who had made the French monarchy so low in the preceding\ncentury, or like those who reduced the Imperial power to a name. They\nhad been brought to moderate bounds, by the policy of the first and\nsecond Henrys, and were not in a condition to set up for petty\nsovereigns by an usurpation equally detrimental to the crown and the\npeople. They were able to act only in confederacy; and this common cause\nmade it necessary to consult the common good, and to study popularity by\nthe equity of their proceedings. This was a very happy circumstance to\nthe growing liberty.\n\nThese concessions were so just and reasonable, that, if we except the\nforce, no prince could think himself wronged in making them. But to\nsecure the observance of these articles, regulations were made, which,\nwhilst they were regarded, scarcely left a shadow of regal power. And\nthe barons could think of no measures for securing their freedom, but\nsuch as were inconsistent with monarchy. A council of twenty-five barons\nwas to be chosen by their own body, without any concurrence of the king,\nin order to hear and determine upon all complaints concerning the breach\nof the charter; and as these charters extended to almost every part of\ngovernment, a tribunal of his enemies was set up who might pass judgment\non all his actions. And that force might not be wanting to execute the\njudgments of this new tribunal, the king agreed to issue his own writs\nto all persons, to oblige them to take an oath of obedience to the\ntwenty-five barons, who were empowered to distress him by seizure of his\nlands and castles, and by every possible method, until the grievance\ncomplained of was redressed according to their pleasure: his own person\nand his family were alone exempted from violence.\n\nBy these last concessions, it must be confessed, he was effectually\ndethroned, and with all the circumstances of indignity which could be\nimagined. He had refused to govern as a lawful prince, and he saw\nhimself deprived of even his legal authority. He became of no sort of\nconsequence in his kingdom; he was held in universal contempt and\nderision; he fell into a profound melancholy. It was in vain that he had\nrecourse to the Pope, whose power he had found sufficient to reduce, but\nnot to support him. The censures of the Holy See, which had been\nfulminated at his desire, were little regarded by the barons, or even by\nthe clergy, supported in this resistance by the firmness of their\narchbishop, who acted with great vigor in the cause of the barons, and\neven delivered into their hands the fortress of Rochester, one of the\nmost important places in the kingdom. After much meditation the king at\nlast resolved upon a measure of the most extreme kind, extorted by\nshame, revenge, and despair, but, considering the disposition of the\ntime, much the most effectual that could be chosen. He dispatched\nemissaries into France, into the Low Countries and Germany, to raise men\nfor his service. He had recourse to the same measures to bring his\nkingdom to obedience which his predecessor, William, had used to conquer\nit. He promised to the adventurers in his quarrel the lands of the\nrebellious barons, and it is said even empowered his agents to make\ncharters of the estates of several particulars. The utmost success\nattended these negotiations in an age when Europe abounded with a\nwarlike and poor nobility, with younger brothers, for whom there was no\nprovision in regular armies, who seldom entered into the Church, and\nnever applied themselves to commerce, and when every considerable family\nwas surrounded by an innumerable multitude of retainers and dependants,\nidle, and greedy of war and pillage. The Crusade had universally\ndiffused a spirit of adventure; and if any adventure had the Pope's\napprobation, it was sure to have a number of followers.\n\nJohn waited the effect of his measures. He kept up no longer the solemn\nmockery of a court, in which a degraded long must always have been the\nlowest object. He retired to the Isle of Wight: his only companions were\nsailors and fishermen, among whom he became extremely popular. Never was\nhe more to be dreaded than in this sullen retreat, whilst the barons\namused themselves by idle jests and vain conjectures on his conduct.\nSuch was the strange want of foresight in that barbarous age, and such\nthe total neglect of design in their affairs, that the barons, when,\nthey had got the charter, which was weakened even by the force by which\nit was obtained and the great power which it granted, set no watch upon\nthe king, seemed to have no intelligence of the great and open\nmachinations which were carrying on against them, and had made no sort\nof dispositions for their defence. They spent their time in tournaments\nand bear-baitings, and other diversions suited to the fierce rusticity\nof their manners. At length the storm broke forth, and found them\nutterly unprovided. The Papal excommunication, the indignation of their\nprince, and a vast army of lawless and bold adventurers were poured\ndown at once upon their heads. Such numbers were engaged in this\nenterprise that forty thousand are said to have perished at sea. Yet a\nnumber still remained sufficient to compose two great armies, one of\nwhich, with the enraged king at its head, ravaged without mercy the\nNorth of England, whilst the other turned all the West to a like scene\nof blood and desolation. The memory of Stephen's wars was renewed, with\nevery image of horror, misery, and crime. The barons, dispersed and\ntrembling in their castles, waited who should fall the next victim. They\nhad no army able to keep the field. The Archbishop, on whom they had\ngreat reliance, was suspended from his functions. There was no hope even\nfrom submission: the king could not fulfil his engagements to his\nforeign troops at a cheaper rate than the utter ruin of his barons.\n\n[Sidenote: A.D. 1216]\n\nIn these circumstances of despair they resolved to have recourse to\nPhilip, the ancient enemy of their country. Throwing off all allegiance\nto John, they agreed to accept Louis, the son of that monarch, as their\nking. Philip had once more an opportunity of bringing the crown of\nEngland into his family, and he readily embraced it. He immediately sent\nhis son into England with seven hundred ships, and slighted the menaces\nand excommunications of the Pope, to attain the same object for which he\nhad formerly armed to support and execute them. The affairs of the\nbarons assumed quite a new face by this reinforcement, and their rise\nwas as sudden and striking as their fall. The foreign army of King John,\nwithout discipline, pay, or order, ruined and wasted in the midst of its\nsuccesses, was little able to oppose the natural force of the country,\ncalled forth and recruited by so considerable a succor. Besides, the\nFrench troops who served under John, and made a great part of his army,\nimmediately went over to the enemy, unwilling to serve against their\nsovereign in a cause which now began to look desperate. The son of the\nKing of France was acknowledged in London, and received the homage of\nall ranks of men. John, thus deserted, had no other ally than the Pope,\nwho indeed served him to the utmost of his power, but with arms to which\nthe circumstances of the time alone can give any force. He\nexcommunicated Louis and his adherents; he laid England under an\ninterdict; he threatened the King of France himself with the same\nsentence: but Philip continued firm, and the interdict had little effect\nin England. Cardinal Langton, by his remarkable address, by his interest\nin the Sacred College, and his prudent submissions, had been restored to\nthe exercise of his office; but, steady to the cause he had first\nespoused, he made use of the recovery of his authority to carry on his\nold designs against the king and the Pope. He celebrated divine service\nin spite of the interdict, and by his influence and example taught\nothers to despise it. The king, thus deserted, and now only solicitous\nfor his personal safety, rambled, or rather fled, from place to place,\nat the head of a small party. He was in great danger in passing a marsh\nin Norfolk, in which he lost the greatest part of his baggage, and his\nmost valuable effects. With difficulty he escaped to the monastery of\nSwineshead, where, violently agitated by grief and disappointments, his\nlate fatigue and the use of an improper diet threw him into a fever, of\nwhich he died in a few days at Newark, not without suspicion of poison,\nafter a reign, or rather a struggle to reign, for eighteen years, the\nmost turbulent and calamitous both to king and people of any that are\nrecorded in the English history.\n\nIt may not be improper to pause here for a few moments, and to consider\na little more minutely the causes which had produced the grand\nrevolution in favor of liberty by which this reign was distinguished,\nand to draw all the circumstances which led to this remarkable event\ninto a single point of view. Since the death of Edward the Confessor\nonly two princes succeeded to the crown upon undisputed titles. William\nthe Conqueror established his by force of arms. His successors were\nobliged to court the people by yielding many of the possessions and many\nof the prerogatives of the crown; but they supported a dubious title by\na vigorous administration, and recovered by their policy, in the course\nof their reign, what the necessity of their affairs obliged them to\nrelinquish for the establishment of their power. Thus was the nation\nkept continually fluctuating between freedom and servitude. But the\nprinciples of freedom were predominant, though the thing itself was not\nyet fully formed. The continual struggle of the clergy for the\necclesiastical liberties laid open at the same time the natural claims\nof the people; and the clergy were obliged to show some respect for\nthose claims, in order to add strength to their own party. The\nconcessions which Henry the Second made to the ecclesiastics on the\ndeath of Becket, which were afterwards confirmed by Richard the First,\ngave a grievous blow to the authority of the crown; as thereby an order\nof so much power and influence triumphed over it in many essential\npoints. The latter of these princes brought it very low by the whole\ntenor of his conduct. Always abroad, the royal authority was felt in its\nfull vigor, without being supported by the dignity or softened by the\ngraciousness of the royal presence. Always in war, he considered his\ndominions only as a resource for his armies. The demesnes of the crown\nwere squandered. Every office in the state was made vile by being sold.\nExcessive grants, followed by violent and arbitrary resumptions, tore to\npieces the whole contexture of the government. The civil tumults which\narose in that king's absence showed that the king's lieutenants at least\nmight be disobeyed with impunity. Then came John to the crown. The\narbitrary taxes which he imposed very early in his reign, which,\noffended even more by the improper use made of them than their\nirregularity, irritated the people extremely, and joined with all the\npreceding causes to make his government contemptible. Henry the Second,\nduring his contests with the Church, had the address to preserve the\nbarons in his interests. Afterwards, when the barons had joined in the\nrebellion of his children, this wise prince found means to secure the\nbishops and ecclesiastics. But John drew upon himself at once the hatred\nof all orders of his subjects. His struggle with the Pope weakened him;\nhis submission to the Pope weakened him yet more. The loss of his\nforeign territories, besides what he lost along with them in reputation,\nmade him entirely dependent upon England: whereas his predecessors made\none part of their territories subservient to the preservation of their\nauthority in another, where it was endangered. Add to all these causes\nthe personal character of the king, in which there was nothing uniform\nor sincere, and which introduced the like unsteadiness into all his\ngovernment. He was indolent, yet restless, in his disposition; fond of\nworking by violent methods, without any vigor; boastful, but continually\nbetraying his fears; showing on all occasions such a desire of peace as\nhindered him from ever enjoying it. Having no spirit of order, he never\nlooked forward,--content by any temporary expedient to extricate himself\nfrom a present difficulty. Rash, arrogant, perfidious, irreligious,\nunquiet, he made a tolerable head of a party, but a bad king, and had\ntalents fit to disturb another's government, not to support his own.\n\nA most striking contrast presents itself between the conduct and fortune\nof John and his adversary Philip. Philip came to the crown when many of\nthe provinces of Prance, by being in the hands of too powerful vassals,\nwere in a manner dismembered from the kingdom; the royal authority was\nvery low in what remained. He reunited to the crown a country as\nvaluable as what belonged to it before; he reduced his subjects of all\norders to a stricter obedience than they had given to his predecessors;\nhe withstood the Papal usurpation, and yet used it as an instrument in\nhis designs: whilst John, who inherited a great territory and an entire\nprerogative, by his vices and weakness gave up his independency to the\nPope, his prerogative to his subjects, and a large part of his dominions\nto the King of France.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[82] A word of uncertain derivation, but which signifies some scandalous\nspecies of cowardice.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nFRAGMENT.--AN ESSAY TOWARDS AN HISTORY OF THE LAWS OF ENGLAND.\n\n\nThere is scarce any object of curiosity more rational than the origin,\nthe progress, and the various revolutions of human laws. Political and\nmilitary relations are for the greater part accounts of the ambition and\nviolence of mankind: this is an history of their justice. And surely\nthere cannot be a more pleasing speculation than to trace the advances\nof men in an attempt to imitate the Supreme Ruler in one of the most\nglorious of His attributes, and to attend them in the exercise of a\nprerogative which it is wonderful to find intrusted to the management of\nso weak a being. In such an inquiry we shall, indeed, frequently see\ngreat instances of this frailty; but at the same time we shall behold\nsuch noble efforts of wisdom and equity as seem fully to justify the\nreasonableness of that extraordinary disposition by which men, in one\nform or other, have been always put under the dominion of creatures like\nthemselves. For what can be more instructive than to search out the\nfirst obscure and scanty fountains of that jurisprudence which now\nwaters and enriches whole nations with so abundant and copious a\nflood,--to observe the first principles of RIGHT springing up, involved\nin superstition and polluted with violence, until by length of time and\nfavorable circumstances it has worked itself into clearness: the laws\nsometimes lost and trodden down in the confusion of wars and tumults,\nand sometimes overruled by the hand of power; then, victorious over\ntyranny, growing stronger, clearer, and more decisive by the violence\nthey had suffered; enriched even by those foreign conquests which\nthreatened their entire destruction; softened and mellowed by peace and\nreligion; improved and exalted by commerce, by social intercourse, and\nthat great opener of the mind, ingenuous science?\n\nThese certainly were great encouragements to the study of historical\njurisprudence, particularly of our own. Nor was there a want of\nmaterials or help for such an undertaking. Yet we have had few attempts\nin that province. Lord Chief Justice Hale's History of the Common Law\nis, I think, the only one, good or bad, which we have. But with all the\ndeference justly due to so great a name, we may venture to assert that\nthis performance, though not without merit, is wholly unworthy of the\nhigh reputation of its author. The sources of our English law are not\nwell, nor indeed fairly, laid open; the ancient judicial proceedings are\ntouched in a very slight and transient manner; and the great changes and\nremarkable revolutions in the law, together with their causes, down to\nhis time, are scarcely mentioned.\n\nOf this defect I think there were two principal causes. The first, a\npersuasion, hardly to be eradicated from the minds of our lawyers, that\nthe English law has continued very much in the same state from an\nantiquity to which they will allow hardly any sort of bounds. The second\nis, that it was formed and grew up among ourselves; that it is in every\nrespect peculiar to this island; and that, if the Roman or any foreign\nlaws attempted to intrude into its composition, it has always had vigor\nenough to shake them off, and return to the purity of its primitive\nconstitution.\n\nThese opinions are flattering to national vanity and professional\nnarrowness; and though they involved those that supported them in the\nmost glaring contradictions, and some absurdities even too ridiculous to\nmention, we have always been, and in a great measure still are,\nextremely tenacious of them. If these principles are admitted, the\nhistory of the law must in a great measure be deemed, superfluous. For\nto what purpose is a history of a law of which it is impossible to trace\nthe beginning, and which during its continuance has admitted no\nessential changes? Or why should we search foreign laws or histories for\nexplanation or ornament of that which is wholly our own, and by which we\nare effectually distinguished from all other countries? Thus the law has\nbeen confined, and drawn up into a narrow and inglorious study, and that\nwhich should be the leading science in every well-ordered commonwealth\nremained in all the barbarism of the rudest times, whilst every other\nadvanced by rapid steps to the highest improvement both in solidity and\nelegance; insomuch that the study of our jurisprudence presented to\nliberal and well-educated minds, even in the best authors, hardly\nanything but barbarous terms, ill explained, a coarse, but not a plain\nexpression, an indigested method, and a species of reasoning the very\nrefuse of the schools, which deduced the spirit of the law, not from\noriginal justice or legal conformity, but from causes foreign to it and\naltogether whimsical. Young men were sent away with an incurable, and,\nif we regard the manner of handling rather than the substance, a very\nwell-founded disgust. The famous antiquary, Spelman, though no man was\nbetter formed for the most laborious pursuits, in the beginning deserted\nthe study of the law in despair, though he returned to it again when a\nmore confirmed age and a strong desire of knowledge enabled him to\nwrestle with every difficulty.\n\nThe opinions which have drawn the law into such narrowness, as they are\nweakly founded, so they are very easily refuted. With regard to that\nspecies of eternity which they attribute to the English law, to say\nnothing of the manifest contradictions in which those involve themselves\nwho praise it for the frequent improvements it has received, and at the\nsame time value it for having remained without any change in all the\nrevolutions of government, it is obvious, on the very first view of the\nSaxon laws, that we have entirely altered the whole frame of our\njurisprudence since the Conquest. Hardly can we find in these old\ncollections a single title which is law at this day; and one may venture\nto assert, without much hazard, that, if there were at present a nation\ngoverned by the Saxon laws, we should find it difficult to point out\nanother so entirely different from everything we now see established in\nEngland.\n\nThis is a truth which requires less sagacity than candor to discover.\nThe spirit of party, which has misled us in so many other particulars,\nhas tended greatly to perplex us in this matter. For as the advocates\nfor prerogative would, by a very absurd consequence drawn from the\nNorman Conquest, have made all our national rights and liberties to have\narisen from the grants, and therefore to be revocable at the will of the\nsovereign, so, on the other hand, those who maintained the cause of\nliberty did not support it upon more solid principles. They would hear\nof no beginning to any of our privileges, orders, or laws, and, in\norder to gain them a reverence, would prove that they were as old as the\nnation; and to support that opinion, they put to the torture all the\nancient monuments. Others, pushing things further, have offered a still\ngreater violence to them. N. Bacon, in order to establish his\nrepublican, system, has so distorted all the evidence he has produced,\nconcealed so many things of consequence, and thrown such false colors\nupon the whole argument, that I know no book so likely to mislead the\nreader in our antiquities, if yet it retains any authority. In reality,\nthat ancient Constitution and those Saxon laws make little or nothing\nfor any of our modern parties, and, when fairly laid open, will be found\nto compose such a system as none, I believe, would think it either\npracticable or desirable to establish. I am sensible that nothing has\nbeen, a larger theme of panegyric with, all our writers on politics and\nhistory than the Anglo-Saxon government; and it is impossible not to\nconceive an high, opinion of its laws, if we rather consider what is\nsaid of them than what they visibly are. These monuments of our pristine\nrudeness still subsist; and they stand out of themselves indisputable\nevidence to confute the popular declamations of those writers who would\npersuade us that the crude institutions of an unlettered people had\nreached a perfection which the united efforts of inquiry, experience,\nlearning, and necessity have not been able to attain in many ages.\n\nBut the truth is, the present system of our laws, like our language and\nour learning, is a very mixed and heterogeneous mass: in some respects\nour own; in more borrowed from the policy of foreign, nations, and\ncompounded, altered, and variously modified, according to the various\nnecessities which the manners, the religion, and the commerce of the\npeople have at different times imposed. It is our business, in some\nmeasure, to follow and point out these changes and improvements: a task\nwe undertake, not from any ability for the greatness of such a work, but\npurely to give some short and plain account of these matters to the very\nignorant.\n\nThe Law of the Romans seems utterly to have expired in this island\ntogether with their empire, and that, too, before the Saxon\nestablishment. The Anglo-Saxons came into England as conquerors. They\nbrought their own customs with them, and doubtless did not take laws\nfrom, but imposed theirs upon, the people they had vanquished. These\ncustoms of the conquering nation were without question the same, for the\ngreater part, they had observed before their migration from Germany. The\nbest image we have of them is to be found in Tacitus. But there is\nreason to believe that some changes were made suitable to the\ncircumstances of their new settlement, and to the change their\nconstitution must have undergone by adopting a kingly government, not\nindeed with unlimited sway, but certainly with greater powers than their\nleaders possessed whilst they continued in Germany. However, we know\nvery little of what was done in these respects until their conversion to\nChristianity, a revolution which made still more essential changes in\ntheir manners and government. For immediately after the conversion of\nEthelbert, King of Kent, the missionaries, who had introduced the use of\nletters, and came from Rome full of the ideas of the Roman civil\nestablishment, must have observed the gross defect arising from a want\nof written and permanent laws. The king,[83] from their report of the\nRoman method, and in imitation of it, first digested the most material\ncustoms of this kingdom into writing, without having adopted anything\nfrom the Roman law, and only adding some regulations for the support and\nencouragement of the new religion. These laws still exist, and strongly\nmark the extreme simplicity of manners and poverty of conception of the\nlegislators. They are written in the English of that time; and, indeed,\nall the laws of the Anglo-Saxons continued in that language down to the\nNorman Conquest. This was different from the method of the other\nNorthern nations, who made use only of the Latin language in all their\ncodes. And I take the difference to have arisen from this. At the time\nwhen the Visigoths, the Lombards, the Franks, and the other Northern\nnations on the continent compiled their laws, the provincial Romans were\nvery numerous amongst them, or, indeed, composed the body of the people.\nThe Latin, language was yet far from extinguished; so that, as the\ngreatest part of those who could write were Romans, they found it\ndifficult to adapt their characters to these rough Northern tongues, and\ntherefore chose to write in Latin, which, though not the language of the\nlegislator, could not be very incommodious, as they could never fail of\ninterpreters; and for this reason, not only their laws, but all their\nordinary transactions, were written in that language. But in England,\nthe Roman name and language having entirely vanished in the seventh\ncentury, the missionary monks were obliged to contend with the\ndifficulty, and to adapt foreign characters to the English language;\nelse none but a very few could possibly have drawn any advantage from\nthe things they meant to record. And to this it was owing that many,\neven the ecclesiastical constitutions, and not a few of the ordinary\nevidences of the land, were written in the language of the country.\n\nThis example of written laws being given by Ethelbert, it was followed\nby his successors, Edric and Lothaire. The next legislator amongst the\nEnglish, was Ina, King of the West Saxons, a prince famous in his time\nfor his wisdom and his piety. His laws, as well as those of the\nabove-mentioned princes, still subsist. But we must always remember that\nvery few of these laws contained any new regulation, but were rather\ndesigned to affirm their ancient customs, and to preserve and fix them;\nand accordingly they are all extremely rude and imperfect. We read of a\ncollection of laws by Offa, King of the Mercians; but they have been\nlong since lost.\n\nThe Anglo-Saxon laws, by universal consent of all writers, owe more to\nthe care and sagacity of Alfred than of any of the ancient kings. In the\nmidst of a cruel war, of which he did not see the beginning nor live to\nsee the end, he did more for the establishment of order and justice than\nany other prince has been known to do in the profoundest peace. Many of\nthe institutions attributed to him undoubtedly were not of his\nestablishment: this shall be shown, when we come to treat more minutely\nof the institutions. But it is clear that he raised, as it were, from\nthe ashes, and put new life and vigor into the whole body of the law,\nalmost lost and forgotten in the ravages of the Danish war; so that,\nhaving revived, and in all likelihood improved, several ancient\nnational regulations, he has passed for their author, with a reputation\nperhaps more just than if he had invented them. In the prologue which he\nwrote to his own code, he informs us that he collected there whatever\nappeared to him most valuable in the laws of Ina and Offa and others of\nhis progenitors, omitting what he thought wrong in itself or not adapted\nto the time; and he seems to have done this with no small judgment.\n\nThe princes who succeeded him, having by his labors enjoyed more repose,\nturned their minds to the improvement of the law; and there are few of\nthem who have not left us some collection more or less complete.\n\nWhen the Danes had established their empire, they showed themselves no\nless solicitous than the English to collect and enforce the laws:\nseeming desirous to repair all the injuries they had formerly committed\nagainst them. The code of Canute the Great is one of the most moderate,\nequitable, and full, of any of the old collections. There was no\nmaterial change, if any at all, made in their general system by the\nDanish conquest. They were of the original country of the Saxons, and\ncould not have differed from them in the groundwork of their policy. It\nappears by the league between Alfred and Guthrum, that the Danes took\ntheir laws from the English, and accepted them as a favor. They were\nmore newly come out of the Northern barbarism, and wanted the\nregulations necessary to a civil society. But under Canute the English\nlaw received considerable improvement. Many of the old English customs,\nwhich, as that monarch justly observes, were truly odious, were\nabrogated; and, indeed, that code is the last we have that belongs to\nthe period before the Conquest. That monument called the Laws of Edward\nthe Confessor is certainly of a much later date; and what is\nextraordinary, though the historians after the Conquest continually\nspeak of the Laws of King Edward, it does not appear that he ever made a\ncollection, or that any such laws existed at that time. It appears by\nthe preface to the Laws of St. Edward, that these written constitutions\nwere continually falling into disuse. Although these laws had\nundoubtedly their authority, it was, notwithstanding, by traditionary\ncustoms that the people were for the most part governed, which, as they\nvaried somewhat in different provinces, were distinguished accordingly\nby the names of the West Saxon, the Mercian, and the Danish Law; but\nthis produced no very remarkable inconvenience, as those customs seemed\nto differ from each other, and from the written laws, rather in the\nquantity and nature of their pecuniary mulcts than in anything\nessential.\n\nIf we take a review of these ancient constitutions, we shall observe\nthat their sanctions are mostly confined to the following objects.\n\n1st. The preservation of the peace. This is one of the largest titles;\nand it shows the ancient Saxons to have been a people extremely prone to\nquarrelling and violence. In some cases the law ventures only to put\nthis disposition under regulations:[84] prescribing that no man shall\nfight with another until he has first called him to justice in a legal\nway; and then lays down the terms under which he may proceed to\nhostilities. The other less premeditated quarrels, in meetings for\ndrinking or business, were considered as more or less heinous, according\nto the rank of the person in whose house the dispute happened, or, to\nspeak the language of that time, whose peace they had violated.\n\n2d. In proportioning the pecuniary mulcts imposed by them for all, even\nthe highest crimes, according to the dignify of the person injured, and\nto the quantity of the offence. For this purpose they classed the people\nwith great regularity and exactness, both in the ecclesiastic and the\nsecular lines, adjusting with great care the ecclesiastical to the\nsecular dignities; and they not only estimated each man's life according\nto his quality, but they set a value upon every limb and member, down\neven to teeth, hair, and nails; and these are the particulars in which\ntheir laws are most accurate and best defined.\n\n3d. In settling the rules and ceremonies of their oaths, their\npurgations, and the whole order and process of their superstitious\njustice: for by these methods they seem to have decided all\ncontroversies.\n\n4th. In regulating the several fraternities of Frank-pledges, by which\nall the people were naturally bound to their good behavior to one\nanother and to their superiors; in all which they were excessively\nstrict, in order to supply by the severity of this police the extreme\nlaxity and imperfection of their laws, and the weak and precarious\nauthority of their kings and magistrates.\n\nThese, with some regulations for payment of tithes and Church dues, and\nfor the discovery and pursuit of stealers of cattle, comprise almost all\nthe titles deserving notice in the Saxon laws. In those laws there are\nfrequently to be observed particular institutions, well and prudently\nframed; but there is no appearance of a regular, consistent, and stable\njurisprudence. However, it is pleasing to observe something of equity\nand distinction gradually insinuating itself into these unformed\nmaterials, and some transient flashes of light striking across the gloom\nwhich prepared for the full day that shone out afterwards. The clergy,\nwho kept up a constant communication with Rome, and were in effect the\nSaxon legislators, could not avoid gathering some informations from a\nlaw which never was perfectly extinguished in that part of the world.\nAccordingly we find one of its principles had strayed hither so early as\nthe time of Edric and Lothaire.[85] There are two maxims[86] of civil\nlaw in their proper terms in the code of Canute the Great, who made and\nauthorized that collection after his pilgrimage to Rome; and at this\ntime, it is remarkable, we find the institutions of other nations\nimitated. In the same collection there is an express reference to the\nlaws of the Werini. From hence it is plain that the resemblance between\nthe polity of the several Northern nations did not only arise from their\ncommon original, but also from their adopting, in some cases, the\nconstitutions of those amongst them who were most remarkable for their\nwisdom.\n\nIn this state the law continued until the Norman Conquest. But we see\nthat even before that period the English law began to be improved by\ntaking in foreign learning; we see the canons of several councils mixed\nindiscriminately with the civil constitutions; and, indeed, the\ngreatest part of the reasoning and equity to be found in them seems to\nbe derived from that source.\n\nHitherto we have observed the progress of the Saxon laws, which,\nconformably to their manners, were rude and simple,--agreeably to their\nconfined situation, very narrow,--and though in some degree, yet not\nvery considerably, improved by foreign communication. However, we can\nplainly discern its three capital sources. First, the ancient\ntraditionary customs of the North, which, coming upon this and the other\ncivilized parts of Europe with the impetuosity of a conquest, bore down\nall the ancient establishments, and, by being suited to the genius of\nthe people, formed, as it were, the great body and main stream of the\nSaxon laws. The second source was the canons of the Church. As yet,\nindeed, they were not reduced into system and a regular form of\njurisprudence; but they were the law of the clergy, and consequently\ninfluenced considerably a people over whom that order had an almost\nunbounded authority. They corrected, mitigated, and enriched those rough\nNorthern institutions; and the clergy having once, bent the stubborn\nnecks of that people to the yoke of religion, they were the more easily\nsusceptible of other changes introduced under the same sanction. These\nformed the third source,--namely, some parts of the Roman civil law, and\nthe customs of other German nations. But this source appears to have\nbeen much the smallest of the three, and was yet inconsiderable.\n\nThe Norman Conquest is the great era of our laws. At this time the\nEnglish jurisprudence, which, had hitherto continued a poor stream, fed\nfrom some few, and those scanty sources, was all at once, as from a\nmighty flood, replenished with a vast body of foreign learning, by\nwhich, indeed, it might be said rather to have been increased than much\nimproved: for this foreign law, being imposed, not adopted, for a long\ntime bore strong appearances of that violence by which it had been first\nintroduced. All our monuments bear a strong evidence to this change. New\ncourts of justice, new names and powers of officers, in a word, a new\ntenure of land as well as new possessors of it, took place. Even the\nlanguage of public proceedings was in a great measure changed.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[83] Decreta illi judiciorum juxta exempla Romanorum cum consilio\nsapientium constituit.--Beda, Eccl. Hist. Lib. II. c. 5.\n\n[84] Leg. \u00c6lfred. 38, De Pugna.\n\n[85] Justum est ut proles matrem sequatur.--Edric and Lothaire.\n\n[86] Negatio potior est affirmatione. Possessio proprior est habenti\nquam deinceps repetenti.--L. Cnut.\n\n\n\n\nEND OF VOL. VII.","title":"The Works of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke, Vol. 07 (of 12)","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":132792}