{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54514/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54514","id":"gutenberg_54514","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54514","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - British","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Church of England -- Sermons","Dialogues, English","Great Britain -- Civilization -- 17th century","Poetry -- History and criticism","Romances -- History and criticism"],"text":"[Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\nCharacters preceded by a caret (^) are in superscript, and are enclosed\nin curly brackets, i. e. {th}.\n\nItalicized text delimited by underscores.\n\nThis project uses utf-8 encoded characters. If some characters are not\nreadable, check your settings of your browser to ensure you have a\ndefault font installed that can display utf-8 characters.]\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  WORKS\n\n  OF\n\n  RICHARD HURD, D. D.\n\n  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.\n\n  VOL III.\n\n  Printed by J. Nichols and Son,\n  Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  WORKS\n\n  OF\n\n  RICHARD HURD, D. D.\n\n  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.\n\n  IN EIGHT VOLUMES.\n\n  VOL. III.\n\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  LONDON:\n  PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND\n  1811.\n\n\n\n\n  MORAL AND POLITICAL\n\n  DIALOGUES.\n\n  VOL. I.\n\n\n\n\n  MORAL AND POLITICAL\n\n  DIALOGUES,\n\n  WITH\n\n  LETTERS\n\n  ON\n\n  CHIVALRY AND ROMANCE.\n\n\n\n\n  SACRED TO THE MEMORY\n\n  OF THE LATE\n\n  RALPH ALLEN, ESQ.\n\n  OF\n\n  PRIOR-PARK.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n SI NOBIS ANIMVM BONI VIRI LICERET INSPICERE, O QVAM PVLCHRAM FACIEM,\n QVAM SANCTAM, QVAM EX MAGNIFICO PLACIDOQVE FVLGENTEM VIDEREMVS! NEMO\n ILLVM AMABILEM, QVI NON SIMVL VENERABILEM, DICERET.\n\n  SENECA.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n  VOL. III.\n\n\n  PREFACE,\n\n  _On the Manner of writing Dialogue_.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE I.\n\n  _On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World._\n\n  DR. MORE, MR. WALLER.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE II.\n\n  _On Retirement._\n\n  MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE III.\n\n  _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH.\n\n  MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE IV.\n\n  _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH.\n\n  MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE V.\n\n  _On the Constitution of the English Government._\n\n  SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET.\n\n\n  VOL. IV.\n\n\n  DIALOGUE VI.\n\n  _On the Constitution of the English Government._\n\n  SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET.\n\n\n  DIALOGUES VII, VIII.\n\n  _On the Uses of Foreign Travel._\n\n  LORD SHAFTESBURY, MR. LOCKE.\n\n\n  XII LETTERS\n\n  _On Chivalry and Romance_.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nOF\n\nTHE THIRD VOLUME.\n\n\n                                                                    Page\n\n  PREFACE,\n\n  _On the Manner of writing Dialogue_.                                17\n\n\n  DIALOGUE I.\n\n  _On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World._\n\n  DR. MORE, MR. WALLER.                                               51\n\n\n  DIALOGUE II.\n\n  _On Retirement._\n\n  MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT.                                              95\n\n\n  DIALOGUE III, IV.\n\n  _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH.\n\n  MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.                             165\n\n\n  DIALOGUE V.\n\n  _On the Constitution of the English Government._\n\n  SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET.                            281\n\n\n\n\n  PREFACE,\n\n  ON\n\n  THE MANNER\n\n  OF WRITING DIALOGUE.\n\n\n\n\n  PREFACE,\n\n  ON THE\n\n  MANNER OF WRITING DIALOGUE.\n\n\nThe former editions of these Dialogues were given without a name, and\nunder the fictitious person of an Editor: not, the reader may be sure,\nfor any purpose so silly as that of imposing on the Public; but for\nreasons of another kind, which it is not difficult to apprehend.\n\nHowever, these reasons, whatever they were, subsisting no longer, the\nwriter is now to appear in his own person; and the respect he owes to\nthe public makes him think it fit to bespeak their acceptance of these\nvolumes in another manner, than he supposed would be readily permitted\nto him, under his assumed character.\n\nI. In an age, like this, when most men seem ambitious of turning\nwriters, many persons may think it strange that the kind of\ncomposition, which was chiefly in use among the masters of this\nnumerous and stirring family, hath been hitherto neglected.\n\nWhen the ANCIENTS had any thing\u2014\n\n\u201cBut what,\u201d it will be said, \u201calways the _Ancients_? And are we never\nto take a pen in hand, but the first question must still be, what our\nmasters, the ancients, have been pleased to dictate to us? ONE man\nunderstands, that the ancient Ode was distinguished into several parts,\ncalled by I know not what strange names; and then truly an English Ode\nmust be tricked out in the same fantastic manner. ANOTHER has heard of\na wise, yet merry, company called a Chorus, which was always singing or\npreaching in the Greek Tragedies; and then, besure, nothing will serve\nbut we must be sung and preached to in ours. While a THIRD is smitten\nwith a tedious long-winded thing, which was once endured under the name\nof Dialogue; and strait we have Dialogues of this formal cut, and are\ntold withal, that no man may presume to write them, on any other model.\u201d\n\nThus the modern critic, with much complacency and even gayety\u2014But I\nresume the sentence I set out with, and observe, \u201cWHEN THE ANCIENTS\nhad any thing to say to the world on the subject either of morals\nor government, they generally chose the way of DIALOGUE, for the\nconveyance of their instructions; as supposing they might chance to\ngain a readier acceptance in this agreeable form, than any other.\u201d\n\n    H\u00e6c adeo penitus cur\u00e2 videre sagaci\n    Otia qui studiis l\u00e6ti tenuere decoris,\n    Inque ACADEMIA umbrifer\u00e2 nitidoque LYCEO\n    Fuderunt claras f\u0153cundi pectoris artes.\n\nSuch was the address, or fancy at least, of the wise ANCIENTS.\n\nThe MODERNS, on the contrary, have appeared to reverence themselves,\nor their cause, too much, to think that either stood in need of this\noblique management. No writer has the least doubt of being favourably\nreceived in all companies, let him come upon us in what shape he will:\nand, not to stand upon ceremony, when he brings so welcome a present,\nas what he calls _Truth_, with him, he obtrudes it upon us in the\ndirect way of Dissertation.\n\nNobody, I suppose, objects to this practice, when important truths\nindeed are to be taught, and when the abilities of the Teacher are such\nas may command respect. But the case is different, when writers presume\nto try their hands upon us, without these advantages. Nay, and even\nwith them, it can do no hurt, when the subject is proper for familiar\ndiscourse, to throw it into this gracious and popular form.\n\nI have said, _where the subject is proper for familiar discourse_; for\nall subjects, I think, cannot, or should not be treated in this way.\n\nIt is true, the inquisitive genius of the Academic Philosophy gave\ngreat scope to the freedom of debate. Hence the origin of the Greek\nDialogue: of which, if PLATO was not the Inventor, he was, at least,\nthe Model.\n\nThis sceptical humour was presently much increased; and every thing was\nnow disputed, not for PLATO\u2019S reason (which was, also, his master\u2019s)\nfor the sake of exposing _Falsehood_ and discovering _Truth_; but\nbecause it was pretended that nothing could be certainly affirmed to be\neither _true_ or _false_.\n\nAnd, when afterwards CICERO, our other great master of Dialogue,\nintroduced this sort of writing into Rome, we know that, besides his\nprofession of the Academic Sect, now extended and indeed outraged into\nabsolute scepticism, the very purpose he had in philosophizing, and the\nrhetorical uses to which he put his Philosophy, would determine him\nvery naturally to the same practice.\n\nThus all subjects, of what nature and importance soever, were equally\ndiscussed in the ancient Dialogue; till matters were at length brought\nto that pass, that the only end, proposed by it, was to shew the\nwriter\u2019s dexterity in disputing for, or against any opinion, without\nreferring his disputation to any certain use or conclusion at all.\n\nSuch was the character of the ancient, and especially of the Ciceronian\nDialogue; arising out of the genius and principles of those times.\n\nBut for us to follow our masters in this licence would be, indeed, to\ndeserve the objected charge of _servile Imitators_; since the reasons,\nthat led them into it, do not subsist in our case. They disputed every\nthing, because they believed nothing. We should forbear to dispute\nsome things, because they are such as both for their sacredness, and\ncertainty, no man in his senses affects to disbelieve. At least, the\nStoic BALBUS may teach us a decent reserve in one instance, _Since_,\nas he observes, _it is a wicked and impious custom to dispute against\nthe Being, Attributes, and Providence of God, whether it be under an\nassumed character, or in one\u2019s own_[1].\n\nThus much I have thought fit to say, to prevent mistakes, and to shew\nof what kind the subjects are which may be allowed to enter into\nmodern Dialogue. They are only such, as are either, in the strict sense\nof the word, _not_ important, and yet afford an ingenuous pleasure\nin the discussion of them; or not _so_ important as to exclude the\nsceptical inconclusive air, which the decorum of polite dialogue\nnecessarily demands.\n\nAnd, under these restrictions, we may treat a number of curious and\nuseful subjects, in this form. The benefit will be that which the\nAncients certainly found in this practice, and which the great master\nof life finds in the general way of candour and politeness,\n\n                  \u2014parcentis viribus, atque\n    Extenuantis eas consult\u00f2\u2014\n\nFor, though Truth be not formally delivered in Dialogue, it may\nbe insinuated; and a capable writer will find means to do this so\neffectually as, in discussing both sides of a question, to engage the\nreader insensibly on that side, where the Truth lies.\n\nII. But _convenience_ is not the only consideration. The NOVELTY of the\nthing, itself, may well recommend it to us.\n\nFor, when every other species of composition has been tried, and men\nare grown so fastidious as to receive with indifference the best\nmodern productions, on account of the too common form, into which they\nare cast, it may seem an attempt of some merit to revive the only one,\nalmost, of the ancient models, which hath not yet been made cheap by\nvulgar imitation.\n\nI can imagine the reader will conceive some surprise, and, if he be not\na candid one, will perhaps express some disdain, at this pretence to\nNovelty, in cultivating the _Dialogue-form_. For what, he will say, has\nbeen more frequently aimed at in our own, and every modern language?\nHas not every art, nay, every science, been taught in this way? And, if\nthe vulgar use of any mode of writing be enough to discredit it, can\nthere be room even for wit and genius to retrieve the honour of this\ntrite and hackneyed form?\n\nThis, no doubt, may be said; but by those who know little of the\nancient Dialogue, or who have not attended to the true manner in which\nthe rules of good writing require it to be composed.\n\nWe have what are called Dialogues in abundance; and the authors,\nfor any thing I know, might please themselves with imagining, they\nhad copied PLATO or CICERO. But in our language at least (and, if I\nextended the observation to the other modern ones of most estimation,\nI should perhaps do them no wrong) I know of nothing in the way of\nDialogue that deserves to be considered by us with such regard.\n\nThere are in English THREE Dialogues, and but Three, that are fit to be\nmentioned on this occasion: all of them excellently well composed in\ntheir way, and, it must be owned, by the very best and politest of our\nwriters. And had that way been a true one, I mean that which antiquity\nand good criticism recommend to us, the Public had never been troubled\nwith this attempt from me, to introduce another.\n\nThe Dialogues I mean are, _The Moralists of Lord_ SHAFTESBURY; _Mr._\nADDISON\u2019S _Treatise on Medals_; _and the Minute Philosopher of Bishop_\nBERKELEY: and, where is the modesty, it will be said, to attempt the\nDialogue-form, if it has not succeeded in such hands?\n\nThe answer is short, and, I hope, not arrogant. These applauded persons\nsuffered themselves to be misled by modern practice; and with every\nability to excel in this nice and difficult composition, have written\nbeneath themselves, only because they did not keep up to the ancient\nstandard.\n\nAn essential defect runs through them all. They have taken for their\nspeakers, not real, but _fictitious_ characters; contrary to the\npractice of the old writers; and to the infinite disadvantage of this\nmode of writing in every respect.\n\nThe love of truth, they say, is so natural to the human mind, that we\nexpect to find the appearance of it, even in our amusements. In some\nindeed, the slenderest shadow of it will suffice: in others, we require\nto have the substance presented to us. In all cases, the degree of\nprobability is to be estimated from the nature of the work. Thus, for\ninstance, when a writer undertakes to instruct or entertain us in the\nway of Dialogue, he obliges himself to keep up to the _idea_, at least,\nof what he professes. The conversation may not have _really_ been such\nas is represented; but we expect it to have all the _forms_ of reality.\nWe bring with us a disposition to be deceived (for we know his purpose\nis not to recite historically, but to feign probably); but it looks\nlike too great an insult on our understandings, when the writer stands\nupon no ceremony with us, and refuses to be at the expence of a little\nart or management to deceive us.\n\nHence the probabilities, or, what is called the _decorum_, of this\ncomposition. We ask, \u201cWho the persons are, that are going to converse\nbefore us?\u201d \u201cwhere and when the conversation passed?\u201d and \u201cby what\nmeans the company came together?\u201d If we are let into none of these\nparticulars, or, rather if a way be not found to satisfy us in all\nof them, we take no interest in what remains; and give the speakers,\nwho in this case are but a sort of Puppets, no more credit, than the\nopinion we chance to entertain of their Prompter demands from us.\n\nOn the other hand, when _such_ persons are brought into the scene as\nare well known to us, and are entitled to our respect, and but so\nmuch address employed in shewing them as may give us a colourable\npretence to suppose them really conversing together, the writer himself\ndisappears, and is even among the first to fall into his own delusion.\nFor thus CICERO himself represents the matter:\n\n\u201cThis way of discourse,\u201d says he, \u201cwhich turns on the authority of real\npersons, and those the most eminent of former times, is, I know not\nhow, more interesting than any other: in so much that in reading my\nown Dialogue on _old age_, I am sometimes ready to conclude, in good\nearnest, it is not I, but CATO himself, who is there speaking[2].\u201d\n\nSo complete a deception, as this, requires the hand of a master. But\nsuch CICERO was; and had it been his design to make the highest\nencomium of his own Dialogues, he could not, perhaps, have done it so\nwell by any other circumstance.\n\nBut now this advantage is wholly lost by the introduction of\n_fictitious persons_. These may do in _Comedy_; nay, they do the best\nthere, where _character_ only, or chiefly, is designed. In _Dialogue_,\nwe must have real persons, and those only: for character here is but a\nsecondary consideration; and there is no other way of giving weight and\nauthority to the conversation of the piece.\n\nAnd here, again, CICERO may instruct us; who was so scrupulous on this\nhead that he would not put his discourse on _old age_ into the mouth\nof TITHONUS, although a Greek writer of name had set him the example,\n_because_, as he observes, _a fabulous person would have had no great\nauthority_[3]. What then would he have said of merely fancied and\n_ideal_ persons, who have not so much as that shadowy existence, which\nthe plausibility of a current tale bestows?\n\nWhen I say that _character is but a secondary consideration_ in\nDialogue, the reader sees I confine myself to that species only, which\nwas in use among the _ancients_, properly so called; and of which\nPLATO and CICERO have left us the best models.\n\nIt is true, in later times, a great wit took upon him to extend the\nprovince of Dialogue, and, like another Prometheus[4], (as, by an\nequivocal sort of compliment, it seems, was observed of him) created a\nnew species; the merit of which consists in associating two things, not\nnaturally allied together, _The severity of Philosophic Dialogue, with\nthe humour of the Comic_.\n\nBut as unnatural as the alliance may seem, this sort of composition has\nhad its admirers. In particular, ERASMUS was so taken with LUCIAN\u2019S\nDialogue, that he has transfused its highest graces into his own; and\nemployed those fine arms to better purpose against the Monks, than the\nforger of them had done, against the Philosophers.\n\nIt must further be confessed, that this innovation of the Greek writer\nhad some countenance from the genius of the old Socratic Dialogue;\nsuch I mean as it was in the hands of SOCRATES himself[5]; who took\nhis name of IRONIST from the continued humour and ridicule which runs\nthrough his moral discourses. But, besides that the Athenian\u2019s modest\nIRONY was of another taste, and better suited to this decorum of\nconversation, than the Syrian\u2019s frontless buffoonery, there was this\nfurther difference in the two cases. SOCRATES employed this method of\nridicule, as the only one by which he could hope to discredit those\nmortal foes of reason, the SOPHISTS: LUCIAN, in mere wantonness, to\ninsult its best friends, the PHILOSOPHERS, and even the parent of\nPhilosophy, himself. The Sage would have dropped his IRONY, in the\ncompany of the good and wise: The Rhetorician is never more pleased\nthan in confounding both, by his intemperate SATIRE.\n\nHowever, there was likeness enough in the features of each _manner_,\nto favour LUCIAN\u2019S attempt in compounding his new Dialogue. He was not\ndispleased, one may suppose, to turn the comic art of SOCRATES against\nhimself; though he could not but know that the ablest masters of the\nSocratic school employed it sparingly; and that, when the illustrious\nRoman came to philosophize in the way of Dialogue, he disdained to make\nany use of it at all.\n\nIn a word, as it was taken up, to serve an occasion, so it was very\nproperly laid aside with it. And even while the occasion lasted, this\nhumorous manner was far enough, as I observed, from being pushed to a\nScenic license; the great artists in this way knowing very well, that,\nwhen SOCRATES brought Philosophy from Heaven to Earth, it was not his\npurpose to expose her on the stage, but to introduce her into good\ncompany.\n\nAnd here, to note it by the way, what has been observed of the Ironic\nmanner of the Socratic Dialogue, is equally true of its _subtle\nquestioning dialectic genius_. This, too, had its rise from the\ncircumstances of the time, and the views of its author, who employed it\nwith much propriety and even elegance to entrap, in their own cobweb\nnets, the minute, quibbling captious sophists. How it chanced that\nthis part of its character did not, also, cease with its use, but was\ncontinued by the successors in that school, and even carried so far as\nto provoke the ridicule of the wits, till, at length, it brought on the\njust disgrace of the Socratic Dialogue itself, all this is the proper\nsubject of another inquiry.\n\nOur concern, at present, is with LUCIAN\u2019S Dialogue; whether he were\nindeed the inventor of this species, or, after SOCRATES, only the\nespouser of it.\n\nThe account, given above, that _it unites and incorporates the\nseveral virtues of the Comic and Philosophic manner_, is in LUCIAN\u2019S\nown words[6]. Yet his Dialogue does not, as indeed it could not,\ncorrespond exactly to this idea. CICERO thought it no easy matter to\nunite _Philosophy with Politeness and Good-humour_[7]; what then would\nhe have said of incorporating _Philosophy, with Comic Ridicule_?\n\nTo do him justice, LUCIAN himself appears sensible enough of the\ndifficulty. _I have presumed_, says he, _to connect and put together\ntwo things, not very obsequious to my design, nor disposed by any\nnatural sympathy to bear the society of each other_[8]. And therefore\nwe find him on all occasions more solicitous for the success of this\nhazardous enterprise, than for the credit of his invention. Every body\nwas ready to acknowledge the novelty of the thing; but he had some\nreason to doubt with himself, whether it were gazed at as a monster,\nor admired as a just and reasonable form of composition. So that not\nbeing able to resolve this scruple to his satisfaction, he extricates\nhimself, as usual, from the perplexity, by the force of his comic\nhumour, and concludes at length, _that he had nothing left for it but\nto persevere in the choice he had once made_; that is, to preserve the\ncredit of his own consistency at least, if he could not prevail to\nhave his Dialogue accepted by the judicious reader, under the idea[9]\nof a consistent _composition_.\n\nThe ingenious writer had, surely, no better way to take, in his\ndistress. For the two excellencies he meant to incorporate in his\nDialogue cannot, in a supreme degree of each, subsist together. The\none must be sacrificed to the other. Either the philosophic part must\ngive place to the dramatic; or the dramatic must withdraw, or restrain\nitself at least, to give room for a just display of the philosophic.\n\nAnd this, in fact, as I observed, is the case in LUCIAN\u2019S own\nDialogues. They are highly dramatic, in which part his force lay; while\nhis Philosophy serves only to edge his wit, or simply to introduce\nit. They have, usually, for their subject, not a QUESTION DEBATED;\nbut, a TENET RIDICULED, or a CHARACTER EXPOSED. In this view, they are\ndoubtless inimitable: I mean when he kept himself, as too frequently he\ndid not, to such _tenets_ or _characters_, as deserve to be treated in\nthis free manner.\n\nBut after all, the other species, the _serious, philosophic_ Dialogue,\nis the noblest and the best. It is the _noblest_, in all views;\nfor the dignity of its subject, the gravity of its manner, and the\nimportance of its end. It is the _best_, too; I mean, it excels most in\nthe very truth and art of composition; as it governs itself entirely by\nthe rules of decorum, and gives a just and faithful image of what it\nwould represent: whereas the comic Dialogue, distorting, or, at least,\naggravating the features of its original, pleases at some expence\nof probability; and at length attains its end but in part, for want\nof _dramatic action_, the only medium through which _humour_ can be\nperfectly conveyed.\n\nThus the serious Dialogue is absolute in itself; and fully obtains its\npurpose: the humorous or characteristic, but partially; and is, at\nbest, the faint copy of a higher species, the _Comic Drama_.\n\nHowever, the authority of LUCIAN is so great, and the manner itself so\ntaking, that for these reasons, but chiefly for the sake of variety,\nthe FIRST of the following Dialogues (and in part too, the SECOND)\npretends to be of this class.\n\nBut to return to our proper subject, THE SERIOUS OR PHILOSOPHIC\nDIALOGUE.\n\n1. I observed (and the reason now appears) that _character_ is a\nsubordinate consideration, in this Dialogue. The _manners_ are to be\ngiven indeed, but sparingly, and, as it were, by accident. And this\ngrace (which so much embellishes a well-composed work) can only be\nhad by employing REAL, KNOWN, and RESPECTED speakers. Each of these\ncircumstances, in the choice of a speaker, is important. The _first_,\nexcites our curiosity: the _second_, affords an easy opportunity of\npainting the manners by those slight and careless strokes, which alone\ncan be employed for this purpose, and which would not sufficiently mark\nthe characters of unknown or fictitious persons: and the _last_ gives\nweight and dignity to the whole composition.\n\nBy this means, the dialogue becomes, in a high degree, natural, and,\non that account, affecting: a thousand fine and delicate allusions to\nthe principles, sentiments, and history of the Dialogists keep their\ncharacters perpetually in view: we have a rule before us, by which\nto estimate the pertinence and propriety of what is said: and we are\npleased to bear a part, as it were, in the conversation of such persons.\n\nThus the old writers of Dialogue charm us, even when their subjects are\nunpleasing, and could hardly merit our attention: but when the topics\nare of general and intimate concern to the reader, by being discussed\nin this form, they create in him the keenest appetite; and are,\nperhaps, read with a higher pleasure, than we receive from most other\ncompositions of literary men.\n\n2. It being now apprehended what _persons_ are most fit to be shewn\nin Dialogue, the next inquiry will be, concerning their _style or\nmanner of expression_. And this, in general, must be suited to the\ncondition and qualities of the persons themselves: that is, it must be\ngrave, polite, and something raised above the ordinary pitch or tone\nof conversation; for, otherwise, it would not agree to the ideas we\nform of the speakers, or to the regard we owe to _real_, _known_, and\n_respected_ persons, seriously debating, as the philosophic dialogue\nimports in the very terms, on some useful or important subject.\n\nThus far the case is plain enough. The conclusion flows, of itself,\nfrom the very idea of a philosophic conversation between such men.\n\nBut as it appeared that the speaker\u2019s _proper manners_ are to be\ngiven, in this Dialogue, it may be thought (and, I suppose, commonly\nis thought) that the speaker\u2019s _proper style or expression_ should be\ngiven, too.\n\nHere the subject begins to be a little nice; and we must distinguish\nbetween the _general cast_ of expression, and its _smaller and more\npeculiar features_.\n\nAs to the _general cast or manner of speaking_, it may be well to\npreserve some resemblance of it; for it results so immediately from\nthe speaker\u2019s character, and sometimes makes so essential a part of\nit, that the _manners_ themselves cannot, otherwise, be sufficiently\nexpressed.\n\nAccordingly CICERO tells us, that, in his Dialogues of the _complete\nOrator_, he had _endeavoured to shadow out_, that is, give the\noutline, as it were, of the kind of eloquence, by which his chief\nspeakers, CRASSUS and ANTONIUS, were severally distinguished[10]. This\nattention has certainly no ill effect when the _manners of speaking_,\nas here, are sufficiently distinct, and generally known. It was,\nbesides, essentially necessary in this Dialogue, where the subject\nis, of eloquence itself; and where the principal persons appeared,\nand were accordingly to be represented, in the light and character of\n_speakers_; that is, where their different kinds or manners of speaking\nwere, of course, to be expressed.\n\nIn Dialogues on other subjects, CICERO himself either neglects this\nrule, or observes it with less care[11]; and this difference of conduct\nis plainly justified, from the reason of the thing.\n\nBut now when the question is, of the _smaller features and more\npeculiar qualities of style or expression_, it will be found that the\nwriter of Dialogue is under no obligation, either from the reason of\nthe thing, or the best authorities, to affect a resemblance of that\nkind.\n\nAuthorities, I think, there are none, or none at least that deserve\nto be much regarded; though I remember what has been observed of an\ninstance or two of this sort, in some of PLATO\u2019S Dialogues, where his\npurpose is, to _expose a character_, not to _debate a philosophic\nquestion_: and for _the impropriety of the thing itself_, it may appear\nfrom the following considerations.\n\nIn general, the reason, why _character_ is preserved in this Dialogue,\nis, because such speakers, as are introduced in it, cannot be supposed\nto converse for any time on a subject of importance without discovering\nsomethings of their own _peculiar manners_; though the occasion may\nnot be warming enough to throw them out with that distinctness and\nvivacity, which we expect in the progress of a dramatic plot. But as to\nthe _language of conversation_, it is so much the same between persons\nof education and politeness, that, whether the subject be interesting,\nor otherwise, all that you can expect is that the _general cast of\nexpression_ will be somewhat tinctured by the _manners_, which shine\nthrough it; but by no means that the smaller differences, the nicer\npeculiarities of style, will be shewn.\n\nOr, we may take the matter thus:\n\nThe reason, why the _general cast or kind of expression_ is different\nin two speakers, is, because their _characters_ are different, too.\nBut _character_ has no manner of influence, in the ease and freedom of\nconversation, on the _idiomatic differences_ of expression; which flow\nnot from the _manners_, but from some degree of study and affectation,\nand only characterize their written and artificial works.\n\nThus, for instance, if SALLUST and CICERO had come together in\nconversation, the _former_ would certainly have dropped his _new\nwords and pointed sentences_: and the _latter_ his _numerous oratorial\nperiods_. All that might be expected to appear, is, that SALLUST\u2019S\nexpression would be shorter and more compact; CICERO\u2019S more gracious\nand flowing, agreeably to the characters of the two men.\n\nBut there is a further reason why these _characteristic peculiarities\nof style_ must not be exhibited, or must be infinitely restrained at\nleast, in the sort of composition we are now considering. It is, that\nthe studied imitation of such peculiarities would be what we call\n_mimickry_; and would therefore border upon _ridicule_, the thing of\nall others which the genius of this Dialogue most abhors. In Comedy\nitself, the most exact writers do not condescend to this minute\nimitation. TERENCE\u2019S characters all express themselves, I think, with\nequal elegance: even his slaves are made to speak as good Latin, as\ntheir masters. In the serious Dialogue, then, which, from its nature,\nis, in a much lower degree, _mimetic_, that minute attention can by\nno means be required. It will be sufficient that the speakers express\nthemselves in _the same manner_, that is, (provided the _general\ncast_ of expression be suited to their respective characters) _in the\nwriter\u2019s own_.\n\nIf there be any exception from this rule, it must be, when the\npeculiarities of expression are so great, and so notorious, that the\nreader could hardly acknowledge the speaker in any other dress, than\nthat of his own style. Hence it is possible, though CICERO has left us\nno example of this sort, that if, in the next age, any one had thought\nfit to introduce M\u00c6CENAS into Dialogue, he might perhaps have been\nallowed to colour his language with some of those _spruce turns and\nnegligent affectations_, by which, as a writer, he was so well known.\nIt is, at least, on this principle that the Author of the following\nDialogues must rest his apology for having taken such liberty, in\n_one or two instances, only_: in which, however, he has confined his\nimitation to the single purpose of exhibiting some degree of likeness\nto their acknowledged manner of expression, without attempting to\nexpose it in any strong or invidious light. And, after all, if even\nthis liberty, so cautiously taken, be thought too much, he will not\ncomplain of his critics; since the fault, if it be one, was committed\nrather in compliance with what he supposed might be the public\njudgment, than with his own.\n\nThe reader has now before him a sketch of what I conceive to be the\n_character_ of the ancient philosophic Dialogue; which, in one word,\nmay be said to be, \u201cAn imitated, and mannered conversation between\ncertain real, known, and respected persons, on some useful or serious\nsubject, in an elegant, and suitably adorned, but not characteristic\nstyle.\u201d\n\nAt least, I express, as I can, my notion of CICERO\u2019S Dialogue, which\nunites these several characters; and, by such union, has effected, as\nit seems to me, all that the nature of this composition requires or\nadmits.\n\nThis, I am sensible, is saying but little, on the subject. But I\npretend not to do justice to CICERO\u2019S DIALOGUES; which are occasionally\nset off by that lively, yet chaste colouring of the _manners_, and are,\nbesides, all over sprinkled with that exquisite grace of, what the\nLatin writers call, _urbanity_, (by which, they meant as well what was\nmost polite in the _air_ of conversation, as in the language of it)\nthat there is nothing equal to them, in Antiquity itself: and I have\nsometimes fancied, that even LIVY\u2019S Dialogues[12], if they had come\ndown to us, would perhaps have lost something, on a comparison with\nthese master-pieces of CICERO\u2019S pen.\n\n3. But to this apology for the ancient Dialogue, I suspect it will be\nreplied, \u201cThat though, in the hands of the Greek and Latin writers, it\nmight, heretofore, have all this grace and merit, yet who shall pretend\nto revive it in our days? or, how shall we enter into the spirit of\nthis composition, for which there is no encouragement, nor so much as\nthe countenance of example in real life? No man writes well, but from\nhis own experience and observation: and by whom is the way of dialogue\nnow practised? or, where do we find such precedents of grave and\ncontinued conversation in modern times?\u201d\n\nA very competent judge, and one too, who was himself, as I have\nobserved, an adventurer in this class of composition, puts the\nobjection home in the following words:\n\n\u201cThe truth is,\u201d says he, \u201cit would be an abominable falsehood, and\nbelying of the age, to put so much good sense together in any _one_\nconversation, as might make it hold out steadily, and with plain\ncoherence, for an hour\u2019s time, till any _one_ subject had been\nrationally examined[13].\u201d\n\nNor is this the only difficulty. _Another_ occurs, from the prevailing\nmanners of modern times, which are over-run with respect, compliment,\nand ceremony. \u201cNow put _compliments_,\u201d says the same writer, \u201cput\n_ceremony_ into a Dialogue, and see what will be the effect! This is\nthe plain _dilemma_ against that ancient manner of writing\u2014if we avoid\nceremony, we are unnatural: if we use it, and appear as we naturally\nare, as we salute, and meet, and treat one another, we hate the\nsight[14].\u201d\n\nThese considerations are to the purpose; and shew perhaps in a\nmortifying manner, that the modern writers of Dialogue, the very best\nof them, cannot aspire to the unrivalled elegance of the ancient;\nas being wholly unfurnished of many advantages, to this end, which\nthey enjoyed. But still the _form_ of writing itself is neither\nimpracticable, nor unnatural: and there are certain _means_, by which\nthe disadvantages, complained of, may be lessened at least, if not\nentirely removed.\n\nTo begin with the LAST. It is very true, that the constraint of\na formal and studied civility is foreign to the genius of this\nsort of composition; and it is, also, as true, that somewhat of\nthis constrained civility is scarce separable from a just copy and\nfaithful picture of conversation in our days. The reason of which is\nto be gathered from the nature of our policies and governments. For\nconversation, I mean the serious and manly sort, as well as eloquence,\nis most cultivated and thrives best amidst the quality of conditions in\nrepublican and popular states.\n\nAnd, though this inconvenience be less perceived by us of this free\ncountry than by most others, yet something of it will remain wherever\nmonarchy, with its consequent train of subordinate and dependent ranks\nof men, subsists.\n\nNow the proper remedy in the case is, to bring such men only together\nin Dialogue as are of the same rank; or at least to class our speakers\nwith such care as that any great inequality in that respect may be\ncompensated by some other; such as the superiority of age, wisdom,\ntalents, or the like. A Chancellor of _England_ and a Country Justice,\nor even a Lord and his Chaplain, could hardly be shewn in Dialogue,\nwithout incurring some ridicule. But a Judge and a Bishop, one would\nhope, might be safely brought together; and if a great Philosopher\nshould enter into debate with a lettered Man of Quality, the indecorum\nwould not be so violent as to be much resented.\n\nBut the influence of modern manners reaches even to names and the\nordinary forms of address. In the Greek and Roman Dialogues, it was\npermitted to accost the greatest persons by their obvious and familiar\nappellations. ALCIBIADES had no more addition, than SOCRATES: and\nBRUTUS and C\u00c6SAR lost nothing of their dignity from being applied to\nin those direct terms. The moderns, on the contrary, have their guards\nand fences about them; and we hold it an incivility to approach them\nwithout some decent periphrasis, or ceremonial title\u2014\n\n        \u2014\u2014gaudent pr\u00e6nomine molles\n    Auricul\u00e6.\n\nIt was principally, I believe, for this reason, that modern writers of\nDialogue have had recourse to fictitious names and characters, rather\nthan venture on the use of real ones: the _former_ absolving them from\nthis cumbersome ceremony, which, in the case of the _latter_, could\nnot so properly be laid aside. PAL\u00c6MON and PHILANDER, for instance,\nare not only well-sounding words; but slide as easily into a sentence,\nand as gracefully too, as CICERO and ATTICUS: while the _Mr\u2019s_ and\nthe _Sirs_, nay his _Grace_, his _Excellency_, or his _Honour_[15],\nof modern Dialogue, have not only a formality that hurts the ease of\nconversation, but a harshness too, which is somewhat offensive to a\nwell-tuned Attic or Roman ear.\n\nAll this will be allowed; and yet, to speak plainly and with that\nfreedom which ancient manners indulge, the barbarity of these forms\nis not worse than the pedantry of taking such disgust at them. And\nthere are ways, too, by which the most offensive circumstances in this\naccount may be so far qualified as to be almost overlooked, or at least\nendured. What _these_ are, the capable and intelligent reader or writer\nis not to be told; and none but such would easily apprehend.\n\nTo come then to the OTHER objection of Lord SHAFTESBURY, which is more\nconsiderable.\n\nIt would be a manifest falsehood, he thinks, and directly against\nthe truth both of art and nature, to engage the moderns in a grave\ndiscourse of any length. And it is true, the great men of our time do\nnot, like the Senators of ancient _Rome_, spend whole days in learned\ndebate and formal disputation: yet their meetings, especially in\nprivate parties, with their friends, are not so wholly frivolous, but\nthat they sometimes discourse seriously, and even pursue a subject of\nlearning or business, not with coherence only, but with some care. And\nwill not this be ground enough for a capable writer to go upon, in\nreviving the way of Dialogue between such men?\n\nBut, to give the most probable air to his fiction, he may find it\nnecessary to recede from the strict imitation of his originals, in one\ninstance.\n\nIt may be advisable not to take for his speakers, _living persons_; I\nmean, persons, however respectable, of his own age. We may fancy of the\ndead, what we cannot so readily believe of the living. And thus, by\nendeavouring a little to deceive ourselves, we may come to think that\nnatural, which is not wholly incredible; and may admit the writer\u2019s\ninvention for a picture, though a studied and flattering one, it may\nbe, of real life.\n\nIn short, it may be a good rule in modern Dialogue, as it was in\nancient Tragedy, to take our subjects, and choose our persons, out\nof former times. And, under the prejudice of that opinion which is\nreadily entertained of such subjects and characters, an artist may\ncontrive to pass that upon us for _Fact_, which was only ingenious\n_Fiction_; and so wind up his piece to the perfection of ancient\nDialogue, without departing too widely from the decorum and truth of\nconversation in modern life.\n\nSuch at least is the IDEA, which the Author of these Dialogues has\nformed to himself of the manner in which this exquisite sort of\ncomposition may be attempted by more successful writers. For to\nconceive an excellence, and to copy it, he understands and laments, are\nvery different things.\n\n  THURCASTON.\n  MDCCLXIV.\n\n\n\n\n  MORAL AND POLITICAL\n\n  DIALOGUES.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE I.\n\n  ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE\n\n  OF THE WORLD.\n\n  BETWEEN\n\n  DR. HENRY MORE,\n\n  AND\n\n  EDMUND WALLER, ESQ.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE I.\n\n  ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE OF THE WORLD.\n\n  DR. HENRY MORE, EDMUND WALLER, ESQ.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nEnough, enough, my friend, on the good old chapter of _Sincerity and\nHonour_. Your rhetoric, and not your reasoning, is too much for me.\nBelieve it, your fine stoical lessons must all give way to a little\ncommon sense, I mean, to a prudent accommodation of ourselves to times\nand circumstances; which, whether you will dignify it with the name\nof philosophy, or no, is the only method of living with credit in the\nworld, and even with safety.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nAccommodation is, no doubt, a good word to stand in the place of\ninsincerity. But, pray, in which of the great moral masters have you\npicked up this term, and, much more, the virtuous practice, it so well\nexpresses?\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI learnt it from the great master of life, EXPERIENCE: A doctor, little\nheard of in the schools, but of more authority with men of sense, than\nall the solemn talkers of the porch, or cloister, put together.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nAfter much reserve, I confess, you begin to express yourself very\nclearly. But, good Sir, not to take up your conclusion too hastily,\nhave the patience to hear\u2014\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nHave I not, then, heard, and sure with patience enough, your studied\nharangues on this subject? You have discoursed it, I must own, very\nplausibly. But the impression, which fine words make, is one thing,\nand the conviction of reason, another. And, not to waste more time\nin fruitless altercation, let ME, if you please, read you a lecture\nof morals: not out of ancient books, or the visions of an unpractised\nphilosophy, but from the schools of business and real life. Such a view\nof things will discredit these high nations, and may serve, for the\nfuture, to amend and rectify all your systems.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nCommend me to a man of the world, for a rectifier of moral\nsystems!\u2014Yet, if it were only for the pleasure of being let into\nthe secrets of this new doctrine of _Accommodation_, I am content to\nbecome a _patient_ hearer, in my turn; and the rather, as the day,\nwhich you see, wears apace, will hardly give leave for interruption, or\nindeed afford you time enough for the full display of your wit on this\nextraordinary subject.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nWe have day enough before us, for the business in hand. \u2019Tis true, this\nwood-land walk has not the charms, which you lately bestowed on a\ncertain _philosophical garden_[16]. But the heavens are as clear, and\nthe air, that blows upon us, as fresh, as in that fine evening which\ndrew your friends abroad, and engaged them in a longer debate, than\nthat with which I am now likely to detain you. For, indeed, I have only\nto lay before you the result of my own experience and observation. All\nmy arguments are plain facts, which are soon told, and about which\nthere can be no dispute. You shall judge for yourself, how far they\nwill authorize the conclusion I mean to draw from them.\n\nThe point, I am bold enough to maintain against you philosophers, is,\nbriefly, this; \u201cThat _sincerity_, or a scrupulous regard to _truth_ in\nall our conversation and behaviour, how specious soever it may be in\ntheory, is a thing impossible in practice; that there is no living in\nthe world on these terms; and that a man of business must either quit\nthe scene, or learn to temper the strictness of your discipline with\nsome reasonable accommodations. It is exactly the dilemma of the poet,\n\n    Vivere si recte nescis, discede peritis;\n\nof all which I presume, as I said, to offer my own experience, as the\nshortest and most convincing demonstration.\u201d\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThe subject, I confess, is fairly delivered, and nothing can be juster\nthan this appeal to experience, provided you do not attempt to delude\nyourself or me by throwing false colours upon it.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nIt will be your business to remonstrate against these arts, if you\ndiscover any such. My intention is to proceed in the way of a direct\nand simple recital.\n\n\u201cI was born, as you know, of a good family, and to the inheritance of\nthis paternal seat[17], with the easy fortune that belongs to it. To\nthis, I succeeded but too soon by the untimely loss of an excellent\nfather. His death, however, did not deprive me of those advantages\nwhich are thought to arise from a strict and virtuous education. This\ncare devolved on my mother, a woman of great prudence, who provided for\nmy instruction in letters and every other accomplishment. I was, of\nmyself, enough inclined to books, and was supposed to have some parts\nwhich deserved cultivation. I was accordingly trained in the study of\nthose writings, which are the admiration of men of elegant minds and\nrefined morals. I was a tolerable master of the languages, in which\nthey are composed; and, I may venture to say, was at least imbued with\ntheir notions and principles, if I was not able at that time to catch\nthe spirit of their composition: all which was confirmed in me, by the\nconstant attendance and admonitions of the best tutors, and the strict\ndiscipline of your colleges. I mention these things to shew you, that\nI was not turned loose into the world, as your complaint of men of\nbusiness generally is, unprincipled and uninstructed; and that what\naustere men might afterwards take for some degree of libertinism in my\nconduct, is not to be charged on the want of a sober or even learned\neducation.\u201d\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nI understand you mean to take no advantage of that plea, if what\nfollows be not answerable to so high expectations.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nThe season was now come, when my rank and fortune, together with\nthe solicitations of my friends, drew me forth, though reluctantly,\nfrom the college into the world. I was then, indeed, under twenty;\nbut so practised in the best things, and so enamoured of the moral\nlessons which had been taught me, that I carried with me into the last\nparliament of king James, not the showy accomplishments of learning\nonly, but the high enthusiasm of a warm and active virtue. Yet the\nvanity, it may be, of a young man, distinguished by some advantages,\nand conscious enough of them, was, for a time, the leading principle\nwith me. In this disposition, it may be supposed, I could not be long\nwithout desiring an introduction to the court. It was not a school of\nthat virtue I had been used to, yet had some persons in it of eminent\nworth and honour. A vein of poetry, which seemed to flow naturally from\nme, was that by which I seemed most ambitious to recommend myself[18].\nAnd occasions quickly offered for that purpose. But this was a play of\ningenuity in which the heart had no share. I made complimentary verses\non the great lords and ladies of the court, with as much simplicity\nand as little meaning as my bows in the drawing room, and thought it a\nfine thing to be taken notice of, as a wit, in the fashionable circles.\nIn the mean time, the corruptions of a loose disorderly court gave me\ngreat scandal. And the abject flatteries, I observed in some of the\nhighest stations and gravest characters, filled me with indignation.\nAs an instance of this, I can never forget the resentment, that fired\nmy young breast at the conversation you have often heard me say I was\npresent at, betwixt the old king, and two of his court prelates[19].\nAnd if the prudent and witty turn, the venerable bishop of _Winchester_\ngave to the discourse, had not atoned, in some measure, for the rank\noffensive servility of the _other_, it had been enough to determine me,\nforthwith, to an implacable hatred of kings and courts for ever.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nIt must be owned the provocation was very gross, and the offence taken\nat it no more than a symptom of a generous and manly virtue.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nIt left a deep impression on my mind; yet it did not hinder me from\nappearing at court in the first years of the following reign, when the\nvanity of a thoughtless muse, rather than any relaxation of my ancient\nmanners, drew from me, again, some occasional panegyrics on greatness;\nwhich being presented in verse, I thought would hardly be suspected of\nflattery.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThis indulgence of a _thoughtless muse_ (as you call it) was not\nwithout its danger. I am afraid this must pass for the first instance\nof your sacrificing to INSINCERITY.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nYour fears are too hasty. This was still a trial of my wit: and after\na few wanton circles, as it were to breathe and exercise my muse, I\ndrew her in from these amusements to a stricter manage and more severe\ndiscipline. The long interval of parliaments now followed; and in this\nsuspension of business I applied myself to every virtuous pursuit that\ncould be likely to improve my mind, or purify my morals. Believe me, I\ncannot to this day, without pleasure, reflect on the golden hours, I\npassed in the society of such accomplished men as FALKLAND, HYDE, and\nCHILLINGWORTH. And, for my more retired amusements at this place, you\nwill judge of the good account I might render of these, when I add,\nthey were constantly shared with that great prelate, who now, with so\nmuch dignity, fills the throne of _Winchester_[20].\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThis enthusiasm of your\u2019s is catching, and raises in me an incredible\nimpatience to come at the triumphs of a virtue, trained and perfected\nin her best school, the conversations of heroes and sages.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nYou shall hear. The jealousies, that had alarmed the nation for\ntwelve years, were now to have a vent given them, by the call of the\nparliament in _April 1640_. As the occasion, on which it met, was\nin the highest degree interesting, the assembly itself was the most\naugust, that perhaps had ever deliberated on public councils. There\nwas a glow of honour, of liberty, and of virtue in all hearts, in all\nfaces: and yet this fire was tempered with so composed a wisdom, and\nso sedate a courage, that it seemed a synod of heroes; and, as some\nwould then say of us, could only be matched by a senate of old Rome\nin its age of highest glory. To this parliament I had the honour to\nbe deputed, whither I went with high-erected thoughts, and a heart\npanting for glory and the true service of my country. The dissolution,\nwhich so unhappily followed, served only to increase this ardour. So\nthat, on our next meeting in _November_, I went freely and warmly into\nthe measures of those, who were supposed to mean the best. I voted,\nI spoke, I impeached[21]. In a word, I gave a free scope to those\ngenerous thoughts and purposes which had been collecting in me for so\nmany years, and was in the foremost rank of those, whose pulse beat\nhighest for liberty, and who were most active for the interest of the\npublic.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThis was indeed a triumph, the very memory of which warms you to this\nmoment. So bright a flame was not easily extinguished.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nIt continued for some time in all its vigour. High as my notions were\nof public liberty, they did not transport me, with that zeal which\nprevailed on so many others, to act against the just prerogative of the\ncrown, and the ancient constitution. I owe it to the conversation and\ninfluence of the excellent society, before-mentioned, that neither the\nspirit, the sense, nor, what is more, the relationship and intimate\nacquaintance of Mr. HAMPDEN[22], could ever bias me to his deeper\ndesigns, or any irreverence to the unhappy king\u2019s person. Many things\nconcurred to preserve me in this due mean. The violent tendencies of\nmany councils on the parliament\u2019s side; many gracious and important\ncompliances on the king\u2019s; the great examples of some who had most\nauthority with good men; and, lastly, my own temper, which, in its\nhighest fervours, always inclined to moderation; these and other\ncircumstances kept me from the excesses, on either hand, which so few\nwere able to avoid in that scene of public confusion.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThis moderation carries with it all the marks of a real and confirmed\nvirtue.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI rather expected you would have considered it as another _sacrifice\nto Insincerity_. Such, I remember, was the language of many at that\ntime. The enthusiasts on both sides agreed to stigmatize this temper\nwith the name of _Neutrality_. Yet this treatment did not prevent me,\nwhen the war broke out, from taking a course, which I easily foresaw,\nwould tend to increase such suspicions; for now, to open a fresh\nscene to you, I had assumed, if not new principles, yet new notions of\nthe manner in which good policy required me to exert my old ones. The\ngeneral virtue, or what had the appearance of it at least, had hitherto\nmade plain-dealing an easy and convenient conduct. But things were now\nchanged. The minds of all men were on fire: deep designs were laid,\nand no practice stuck at that might be proper to advance the execution\nof them. In this situation of affairs, what could simple honesty do,\nbut defeat the purpose and endanger the safety of its master? I now,\nfirst, began to reflect that this was a virtue for other times: at\nleast, that not to qualify it, in some sort, was, at such a juncture,\nnot honesty, but imprudence: and when I had once fallen into this train\nof thinking, it is wonderful how many things occurred to me to justify\nand recommend it. The humour of acting always on one principle was, I\nsaid to myself, like that of sailing with one wind: whereas the expert\nmariner wins his way by plying in all directions, as occasions serve,\nand making the best of all weathers. Then I considered with myself\nthe bad policy, in such a conjuncture, of CATO and BRUTUS, and easily\napproved in my own mind the more pliant and conciliating method of\nCICERO. Those stoics, thought I, ruined themselves and their cause by a\ntoo obstinate adherence to their system. The liberal and more enlarged\nconduct of the academic, who took advantage of all winds that blew in\nthat time of civil dissension, had a chance at least for doing his\ncountry better service. Observation, as well as books, furnish me with\nthese reflections. I perceived with what difficulty the Lord FALKLAND\u2019S\nrigid principles had suffered him to accept an office of the greatest\nconsequence to the public safety[23]: and I understood to what an\nextreme his scruples had carried him in the discharge of it[24]. This,\nconcluded I, can never be the office of virtue in such a world, and in\nsuch a period. And then that of the poet, so skilled in the knowledge\nof life, occurred to me,\n\n                \u2014aut virtus nomen inane est,\n    Aut decus et pretium recte petit EXPERIENS vir;\n\nthat is, as I explained it, \u201cThe man of a ready and dexterous turn in\naffairs; one who knows how to take advantage of all circumstances,\nand is not restrained, by his bigotry, from varying his conduct, as\noccasions serve, and making, as it were, _experiments_ in business.\u201d\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYou poets, I suppose, have an exclusive right to explain one another;\nor these words might seem to bear a more natural interpretation.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nYou will understand from this account, which I have opened so\nparticularly to you, on what reasons I was induced to alter my plan,\nor rather to pursue it with those arts of prudence and address, which\nthe turn of the times had now rendered necessary. The conclusion\nwas, I resolved to pursue steadily the king\u2019s, which at the same\ntime was manifestly the nation\u2019s interest, and yet to keep fair with\nthe parliament, and the managers on that side; for this appeared\nthe likeliest way of doing him real service. And yet some officious\nscruples, which forced themselves upon me at first, had like to have\nfixed me in other measures. In the stream of those who chose to desert\nthe houses rather than share in the violent counsels that prevailed in\nthem, the general disgust had also carried me to withdraw myself. But\nthis start of zeal was soon over. I presently saw, and found means to\nsatisfy the king, that it would be more for his service that I should\nreturn to the parliament. I therefore resumed my seat, and took leave\n(to say the truth, it was not denied me by the house, who had their\nown ends to serve by this indulgence[25]) to reason and debate in all\npoints with great freedom. At the same time my affections to the common\ninterest were not suspected; for, having no connexion with the court,\nnobody thought of charging me with private views; and not forgetting,\nbesides, to cultivate a good understanding with the persons of chief\ncredit in the house, the plainness I used could only be taken for what\nit was, an honest and parliamentary liberty. This situation was, for a\ntime, very favourable to me: for the king\u2019s friends regarded me as the\nchampion of their cause; whilst the prudence of my carriage towards the\nleading members secured me, in a good degree, from their jealousy.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYour policy, I observe, had now taken a more refined turn. The juncture\nof affairs might possibly justify this address: but the ground you\nstood upon was slippery; and I own myself alarmed at what may be the\nconsequence of this solicitous pursuit of popularity.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nNo exception, I think, can be fairly taken at the methods by which I\npursued it. However, this _popularity_ it was, as you rightly divine,\nwhich drew upon me all the mischiefs that followed. For the application\nof all men, disposed to the king\u2019s service, was now made to me. I had\nan opportunity, by this means, of knowing the characters and views\nof particular persons, and of getting an insight into the true state\nof the king\u2019s affairs. And these advantages, in the end, drove me on\nthe project, which, on the discovery, came to be called my _Plot_: an\nevent, which, with all its particulars, you understand too well to need\nany information from me about it.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThe story, as it was noised abroad, I am no stranger to: but this being\none of those occasions, as they say, in which both your policy and\nvirtue were put to the sharpest trial, it would be much to the purpose\nyou have in view by this recital, to favour me with your own account of\nit.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nTo lead you through all particulars, would not suit with the\nbrevity you require of me. But something I will say to obviate the\nmisconceptions you may possibly have entertained of this business[26].\nFor the plot itself, the utmost of my design was only to form such a\ncombination among the honest and well-affected of all sorts, as might\nhave weight enough to incline the houses to a peace, and prevent the\nmiseries that were too certainly to be apprehended from a civil war. It\nwas never in my thoughts to surprize the parliament or city by force,\nor engage the army in the support and execution of my purpose. But my\ndesign in this affair, though the fury of my enemies, and the fatal\njealousy of the time, would not suffer it to be rightly understood, is\nnot that which my friends resented, and which most men were disposed\nto blame in me. It was my behaviour afterwards, and the obliquity of\nsome means which I found expedient to my own safety, that exposed me\nto so rude a storm of censure. It continues, I know, to beat upon me\neven at this distance. But the injustice hath arisen from the force of\nvulgar prejudices, and from the want of entering into those enlarged\nprinciples, on which it was necessary for me to proceed in that\njuncture.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYet the ill success of this plot itself might have shewn you, what the\ndesign of acting on these _enlarged principles_ was likely to come to.\nIt was an unlucky experiment, this, you had made in the _new_ arts\nof living; and should have been a warning to you, not to proceed in\na path which, at the very entrance of it, had involved you in such\ndifficulties.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nNo, it was not the new path, you object to me, but the good old road of\nSincerity, which misled me into those brambles. I, in the simplicity\nof my heart, thought it my duty to adhere to the injured king\u2019s\ncause, and believed my continuance in parliament the fairest, as well\nas the likeliest method, that could be taken to support it. Had I\ntemporized so far as either to desert my prince, and strike in with\nthe parliament, or, on the other hand, had left the house and gone with\nthe seceders to _Oxford_, either way I had been secure. But resolving,\nas I did, to hold my principles, and follow my judgment, I fell into\nthose unhappy circumstances, from which all the dexterity I afterwards\nassumed was little enough to deliver me.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nBut if your intentions were so pure, and the methods, by which you\nresolved to prosecute them, so blameless, how happened it that any plot\ncould be worked up of so much danger to your life and person?\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nThis was the very thing I was going to explain to you. My intentions\ntowards the parliament were fair and honourable: as I retained my seat\nthere, I could not allow myself in the use of any but parliamentary\nmethods to promote the cause I had undertaken. And this, as I said,\nwas the whole purpose of the _combination_, which was made the\npretence to ruin me: for my unhappy project of a reconciliation was\nso inextricably confounded with another of more dangerous tendency,\nthe _commission of array_, sent at that time from _Oxford_, that\nnothing, I presently saw, could possibly disentangle so perplexed a\nbusiness, or defeat the malice of my enemies, if I attempted, in the\nmore direct way, to stand on my defence. Presumptions, if not proofs,\nthey had in abundance: the consternation of all men was great; their\nrage, unrelenting; and the general enthusiasm of the time, outrageous.\nConsider all this, and see what chance there was for escaping their\ninjustice, if I had restrained myself to the sole use of those means,\nwhich you men of the cloister magnify so much, under I know not what\nnames of _Sincerity_ and _Honour_. And, indeed, this late experience,\nof what was to be expected from the way of plain dealing, had\ndetermined me, henceforth, to take a different route; and, since I had\ndrawn these mischiefs on myself by _Sincerity_, to try what a little\nmanagement could do towards bringing me out of them.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nIt was not, I perceive, without cause, that the subtlety you had begun\nto have recourse to, filled me with apprehensions. Sincerity and\nHonour, Mr. WALLER, are plain things, and hold no acquaintance with\nthis ingenious casuistry.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nWhat, not in such a situation? It should seem then, as if you moralists\nconceived a man owed nothing to himself: that _self-preservation_ was\nnot what God and Nature have made it, the first and most binding of all\nlaws: that a man\u2019s family, not to say his country, have no interest in\nthe life of an innocent and deserving citizen; and, in one word, that\n_prudence_ is but an empty name, though you give it a place among your\n_cardinal virtues_. All this must be concluded before you reject, as\nunlawful, the means I was forced upon, at this season, for my defence:\nmeans, I presume to say, so sagely contrived, and, as my very enemies\nwill own, executed so happily, that I cannot to this day reflect on my\nconduct in that affair without satisfaction.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYet it had some consequences which a man of your generosity would a\nlittle startle at.\u2014\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI understand you: my friends\u2014But I shall answer that objection in its\nplace.\n\nLet me at present go on with the particulars of my defence. The\noccasion, as you see, was distressful to the last degree. To deny or\ndefend myself from the charge was a thing impossible. What remained\nthen but to confess it, and in so frank and ample a manner, as might\nbespeak the pity or engage the protection of my accusers? I resolved\nto say nothing but the _truth_; and, if ever the _whole_ truth may\nbe spoken, it is when so alarming an occasion calls for it. Besides,\nwhat had others, who might be affected by the discovery, to complain\nof? I disclaimed no part of the guilt myself: nor could any confession\nbe made, that did not first and chiefly affect me. And if I, who was\nprincipal in the contrivance, had the best chance for escaping by such\nconfession, what had they, who were only accomplices, to apprehend from\nit? Add to this, that the number and credit of the persons, who were\ncharged with having a share in the design, were, of all others, the\nlikeliest considerations to prevail with the houses to drop the further\nprosecution of it.\n\nWell, the discovery had great effects. But there was no stopping here.\nPenitence, as well as confession, is expected from a sinner. I had to\ndo with hypocrites of the worst sort. What fairer weapons, then, than\nhypocrisy and dissimulation? I counterfeited the strongest remorse, and\nwith a life and spirit that disposed all men to believe, and most to\npity me. My trial was put off in very compassion to my disorder; which,\nin appearance, was so great, that some suspected my understanding had\nbeen affected by it. In this contrivance I had two views; to gain time\nfor my defence, and to keep it off till the fury of my prosecutors was\nabated. In this interval, indeed, some of my accomplices suffered. But\nhow was it possible for me to apprehend that, when, if any, I myself\nmight expect to have fallen the first victim of their resentment?\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nIf this apology satisfy yourself, I need not interrupt your story with\nany exceptions.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nIt was, in truth, the only thing which afflicted me in the course of\nthis whole business. But time and reflection have reconciled me to\nwhat was, in some sense, occasioned, but certainly not intended, by me.\nAnd it would be a strange morality that should charge a man with the\nundesigned consequences of his own actions.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nAnd were all the symptoms of a disturbed mind, you made a shew of, then\nentirely counterfeit?\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nAs certainly as those of the Roman BRUTUS, who, to tell you the truth,\nwas my example on that occasion. It was the business of both of us to\nelude the malice of our enemies, and reserve ourselves for the future\nservice of our respective countries.\n\nBut all I have told you was only a prelude to a further, and still\nmore necessary, act of dissimulation. Had the house been left to\nitself, it might possibly have absolved me, on the merits of so large\na confession, and so lively a repentance. But I had to do with another\nclass of men, with holy inquisitors of sordid minds, and sour spirits;\npriestly reformers, whose sense was noise, and religion fanaticism,\nand that too fermented with the leven of earthly avarice and ambition.\nThese had great influence both within doors and without, and would\nregard what had hitherto passed as nothing, if I went not much further.\nTo these, having begun in so good a train, I was now to address myself.\nI had studied their humours, and understood to a tittle the arts that\nwere most proper to gain them.\n\nThe first step to the countenance and good liking of these restorers of\nprimitive parity was, I well knew, the most implicit subjection both\nof will and understanding. I magnified their gifts, I revered their\nsanctity. I debased myself with all imaginable humility: I extolled\nthem with the grossest flattery.\n\nHaving thus succeeded to my wish in drawing the principal of these\nsaints around me, I advanced further: I sought their instruction,\nsolicited their advice, and importuned their ghostly consolation.\nThis brought me into high favour; they regarded me as one, who wished\nand deserved to be enlightened: they strove which should impart most\nof their lights and revelations to me. I besought them to expound,\nand pray, and preach before me: nay, I even preached, and prayed,\nand expounded before them. I out-canted the best-gifted of them; and\nout-railed the bitterest of all their decriers of an anti-christian\nprelacy. In short, it would have moved your laughter or your\nindignation to observe, how submissively I demeaned myself to these\nspiritual fathers; how I hung on their words, echoed their coarse\nsayings, and mimicked their beggarly tones and grimaces.\n\nTo complete the farce, I intreated their acceptance of such returns\nfor their godly instructions, as fortune had enabled me to make\nthem. I prevailed with them to give leave that so unworthy a person\nmight be the instrument of conveying earthly accommodations to these\ndispensers of heavenly treasures; and it surpasses all belief, with\nwhat an avidity they devoured them! It is true, this last was a serious\nconsideration: in all other respects, the whole was a perfect comedy;\nand of so ridiculous a cast, that, though my situation gave me power of\nface to carry it off gravely then, I have never reflected on it since\nwithout laughter.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nTruly, as you describe it, it was no serious scene. But what I admire\nmost, is the dexterity of your genius, and the prodigious progress you\nhad now made in your favourite arts of _accommodation_.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nNecessity is the best master. Besides, can you blame me for taking more\nthan common pains to outdo these miscreants in their own way; I might\nsay, to excel in an art which surpasses, or at least comprises in it\nthe essence of all true wisdom? The precept of your admired ANTONINUS,\nas you reminded me to-day, is SIMPLIFY YOURSELF[27]. That, I think,\nwas the quaint expression. It had shewn his reach and mastery in the\ntrade he professed, much more, if instead of it, he had preached up,\nACCOMMODATE YOURSELF; the grand secret, as long experience has taught\nme, _bene beateque vivendi_.\n\nAll matters thus prepared, there was now no hazard in playing my\nlast game. I requested and obtained leave to make my defence before\nthe parliament. I had acquired a knack in speaking; and had drawn\non myself more credit, than fine words deserve, by a scenical and\nspecious eloquence. If ever I acquitted myself to my wish, it was on\nthis occasion. I soothed, I flattered, I alarmed: every topic of art\nwhich my youth had learned, every subject of address which experience\nhad suggested, every trick and artifice of popular adulation, was\nexhausted. All men were prepared by the practices of my saintly\nemissaries to hear me with favour; and, which is the first and last\nadvantage of a speaker, to believe me seriously and conscientiously\naffected.\n\nIn the end I triumphed; and for a moderate fine obtained leave to\nshelter myself from the following storm, which almost desolated this\nunhappy country, by retiring into an exile, at that time more desirable\nthan any employment of those I left behind me.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYou retired, I think, to _France_, whither, no doubt, you carried with\nyou all those generous thoughts and consolatory reflexions, which\nrefresh the spirit of a good man under a consciousness of suffering\nvirtue.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nWhy not, if _prudence_ be a virtue? for what, but certain prudential\nregards (which in common language and common sense are quite another\nthing from vicious compliances) have hitherto, as you have seen,\nappeared in my conduct? But be they what they will, they had a very\nnatural effect, and one which will always attend on so reasonable a\nway of proceeding. For, since you press me so much, I shall take leave\nto suggest an observation to you, more obvious as well as more candid\nthan any you seem inclined to make on the circumstances of this long\nrelation. It is, \u201cthat the _pretended_ penitence for my past life, and\nthe readiness I shewed to acquiesce in the _false_ accounts which the\nparliament gave of my plot, saved my life, and procured my liberty;\nwhilst the _real and true_ discoveries I made to gain credit to _both_,\nhurt my reputation.\u201d But such a reflexion might have shocked your\nsystem too much. For it shews that all the benefit, I drew to myself\nin this affair, arose from those _prudential maxims_ you condemn; and\nthat all the injury, I suffered, was owing to the _sincerity_ I still\nmixed with them.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nSeriously, Sir\u2014\u2014\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI can guess what you would say: but you promised to hear me out,\nwithout interruption.\n\nWhat remains I shall dispatch in few words, having so fully vindicated\nthe most obnoxious part of my life, and opened the general principles,\nI acted upon, so clearly.\n\nI went, as you said, to _France_; where, instead of the churlish humour\nof a malcontent, or the unmanly dejection of a disgraced exile, I\nappeared with an ease and gaiety of mind, which made me welcome to the\ngreatest men of that country. The ruling principle of my philosophy\nwas, to make the best of every situation. And, as my fortune enabled me\nto do it, I lived with hospitality, and even splendour; and indulged\nmyself in all the delights of an enlarged and elegant conversation.\n\nSuch were my amusements for some years; during which time, however, I\npreserved the notions of loyalty, which had occasioned my disgrace,\nand waited some happier turn of affairs, that might restore me with\nhonour to my country. But when all hopes of this sort were at an end,\nand the government, after the various revolutions which are well\nknown, seemed fixed and established in the person of one man, it\nwas not allegiance, but obstinacy, to hold out any longer. I easily\nsucceeded in my application to be recalled, and was even admitted to\na share in the confidence of the PROTECTOR. This great man was not\nwithout a sensibility of true glory; and, for that reason, was even\nambitious of the honour, which wit and genius are ever ready to confer\non illustrious greatness. Every muse of that time distinguished, and\nwas distinguished by, him. Mine had improved her voice and accent in a\nforeign country: and what nobler occasion to try her happiest strain\nthan this, of immortalizing a Hero?\n\n    \u201cIllustrious acts high raptures do infuse,\n    And ev\u2019ry conqueror creates a muse;\u201d\n\nas I then said in a panegyric, which my gratitude prompted me to\npresent to him[28].\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nThis panegyric, presented in verse, could hardly, I suppose, be\nsuspected of flattery!\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI expected this; but the occasion, as I said, might have suggested\na fairer interpretation. And why impute as a fault to me, what the\nreverend SPRAT, as well as DRYDEN, did not disdain to countenance by\ntheir examples? Besides, as an argument of the unsullied purity of\nintention, you might remember, methinks, that I asked no recompence,\nand accepted none, for the willing honours my muse paid him.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nIt must be a sordid muse indeed, that submits to a venal prostitution.\nAnd, to do your profession justice, it is not so much avarice, or even\nambition, as a certain gentler passion, the vanity, shall I call it? of\nbeing well with the _great_, that is fatal to you poets.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nI can allow for the satire of this reproof, in a man of ancient and\nbookish manners. But, to shew my disinterestedness still more, you may\nrecollect, if you please, that I embalmed his memory, when neither his\nfavour nor his smile were to be apprehended.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nIn the short reign of his son.\u2014But what then? you made amends for all,\nby the congratulation on the happy return of his present majesty. You\nknow who it was that somebody complimented in these lines:\n\n    \u201cHe best can turn, enforce and soften things,\n    To praise great conquerors, and flatter kings.\u201d\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nWas it for me to stem the torrent of a nation\u2019s joys by a froward and\nunseasonable silence? Did not HORACE, who fought at _Philippi_, do\nas much for AUGUSTUS? And should I, who had suffered for his cause,\nnot embrace the goodness, and salute the returning fortunes, of so\ngracious, so accomplished a master? His majesty himself, as I truly say\nof him, in the poem you object to me,\n\n                  \u201cwith wisdom fraught,\n    Not such as books, but such as practice, taught,\u201d\n\ndid me the justice to understand my address after another manner. He,\nwho had so often been forced by the necessities of his affairs to make\ncompliances with the time, never resented it from me, a private man\nand a poet, that I had made some sacrifices of a like nature. All this\nmight convince you of the great truth I meant to inculcate by this long\nrecital, that not a sullen and inflexible _Sincerity_, but a fair and\nseasonable _accommodation of one\u2019s self_, to the various exigencies of\nthe times, is the golden virtue that ought to predominate in a man\nof life and business. All the rest, believe me, is the very cant of\nphilosophy and unexperienced wisdom.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nWisdom\u2014and must the sanctity of that name\u2014\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nHear me, Sir\u2014no exclamations against the evidence of plain fact. I\nhave a right to expect another conduct from him, who is grown grey in\nthe studies of moral science.\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYou learned another lesson in the school of FALKLAND, HYDE, and\nCHILLINGWORTH.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nYes, one I was obliged to unlearn. But, since you remind me of that\nschool, what was the effect of adhering pertinaciously to its false\nmaxims? To what purpose were the lives of _two_ of them prodigally\nthrown away; and the honour, the wisdom, the talents of the _other_,\nstill left to languish in banishment[29] and obscurity?\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nO! prophane not the glories of immortal, though successless virtue,\nwith such reproaches.\u2014Those adored names shall preach honour to future\nages, and enthrone the majesty of virtue in the hearts of men, when\nwit and parts, and eloquence and poetry, have not a leaf of all their\nwithered bays to recommend them.\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nRaptures and chimeras!\u2014\u2014Rather judge of the sentiments of future\nages, from the present. Where is the man, (I speak it without\nboasting,) that enjoys a fairer fame; who is better received in all\nplaces; who is more listened to in all companies; who reaps the fruits\nof a reasonable and practicable virtue in every return of honour, more\nunquestionably, than he whose life and principles your outrageous\nvirtue leads you to undervalue so unworthily? And take it from me as\nan oracle, which long age and experience enable me to deliver with all\nassurance, \u201cWhoever, in succeeding times, shall form himself on the\nplan here given shall meet with the safety, credit, applause, and,\nif he chuses, honour and fortune in the world, which may be promised\nindeed, but never will be obtained, by any other method.\u201d\n\n\nDR. MORE.\n\nYou have spoken. But hear me now, I conjure you, whilst a poor despised\nphilosopher\u2014\n\n\nMR. WALLER.\n\nO! I have marked the emotion this discourse of mine hath awakened in\nyou. I have seen your impatience: I have watched your eyes when they\nsparkled defiance and contradiction to my argument. But your warmth\nmakes you forget yourself. I gave a patient hearing to all your\neloquence could suggest in this cause. I even favoured your zeal, and\nhelped to blow up your enthusiasm. The rest fell to my turn; and\nbesides, the evening, as you see, shuts in upon us. Let us escape, at\nleast, from its dews, which, in this decline of the year, they say, are\nnot the most wholesome, into a warm apartment within doors; and then I\nshall not be averse, especially when you have taken a few minutes to\nrecollect yourself, to debate with you what further remains upon this\nargument[30].\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE II.\n\n  ON RETIREMENT.\n\n  BETWEEN\n\n  MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY,\n\n  AND\n\n  THE REV. MR. THOMAS SPRAT.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE II.\n\n  ON RETIREMENT.\n\n  MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY\u2014THE REV. MR. SPRAT.\n\n\nTO THE EARL OF ST. ALBANS[31].\n\nMY LORD,\n\nThe duty I owe your LORDSHIP, as well as my friendship for Mr. COWLEY,\ndetermined me to lose no time in executing the commission you was\npleased to charge me with by Mr. D***. I went early the next morning\nto _Barn Elms_[32]; intending to pass the whole day with him, and to\ntry if what I might be able to suggest on the occasion, together with\nthe weight of your lordship\u2019s advice, could not divert him from his\nstrange project of _Retirement_. Your lordship, no doubt, as all his\nother friends, had observed his bias that way to be very strong; but\nwho, that knew his great sense, could have thought of it its carrying\nhim to so extravagant a resolution? For my own part, I suspected it so\nlittle, that, though he would often talk of retiring, and especially\nsince your lordship\u2019s favour to him[33], I considered it only as the\nusual language of poets, which they take up one after another, and\nlove to indulge in, as what they suppose becomes their family and\nprofession. It could never come into my thoughts, that one, who knew\nthe world so well as Mr. COWLEY, and had lived so long in it, who had\nso fair hopes and so noble a patron, could seriously think of quitting\nthe scene at his years, and all for so fantastic a purpose as that of\ngrowing old in the corner of a country village.\n\nThese, my lord, were my sentiments, when your friendly message alarmed\nme with the apprehension of there being more in the matter than I had\nsuspected. Yet still I considered it only as a hasty thought, which\na fit of the spleen, or of the muse it may be, had raised; and which\nthe free remonstrance of a friend would easily disperse, or prevent at\nleast from coming to any fixed and settled resolution. But how shall\nI express to your lordship the surprise I was in, to find that this\nresolution was not only taken, but rooted so deeply in him, that no\narguments, nor even your lordship\u2019s authority, could shake it? I have\never admired Mr. COWLEY, as a man of the happiest temper and truest\njudgment; but, to say the least, there was something so particular, I\nhad almost said perverse, in what he had to allege for himself on this\noccasion, that I cannot think I acquit myself to your lordship, without\nlaying before you the whole of this extraordinary conversation; and, as\nfar as my recollection will serve, in the very words in which it passed\nbetwixt us.\n\nI went, as I told your lordship, pretty early to _Barn Elms_; but my\nfriend had gotten the start of me by some hours. He was busying himself\nwith some improvements of his garden, and the fields that lie about\nhis house. The whole circuit of his domain was not so large, but that\nI presently came up with him. \u201cMy dear friend,\u201d said he, embracing\nme, but with a look of some reserve and disgust, \u201cand is it you then\nI have the happiness to see, at length, in my new settlement? Though\nI fled hither from the rest of the world, I had no design to get out\nof the reach of my friends. And, to be plain with you, I took it a\nlittle amiss from one whose entire affection I had reckoned upon,\nthat he should leave me to myself for these two whole months, without\ndiscovering an inclination, either from friendship or curiosity, to\nknow how this retirement agreed with me. What could induce my best\nfriend to use me so unkindly?\u201d\n\nSurely, said I, you forget the suddenness of your flight, and the\nsecresy with which the resolution was taken. We supposed you gone only\nfor a few days, to see to the management of your affairs; and could\nnot dream of your _rusticating_ thus long, at a time when the town\nand court are so busy; when the occasions of your friends and your\nown interests seemed to require your speedy return to us. However,\ncontinued I, it doth not displease me to find you so dissatisfied\nwith this solitude. It looks as if the short experience, you have\nhad of this recluse life, did not recommend it to you in the manner\nyou expected. Retirement is a fine thing in imagination, and is apt\nto possess you poets with strange visions. But the charm is rarely\nlasting; and a short trial, I find, hath served to correct these\nfancies. You feel yourself born for society and the world, and, by your\nkind complaints of your friend, confess how unnatural it is to deny\nyourself the proper delights of a man, the delights of conversation.\n\nNot so fast, interrupted he, if you please, in your conclusions about\nthe nature of retirement. I never meant to give up my right in the\naffections of those few I call my friends. But what has this to do\nwith the general purpose of retreating from the anxieties of business,\nthe intrigues of policy, or the impertinencies of conversation? I have\nlived but too long in a ceaseless round of these follies. The best part\nof my time hath been spent _sub dio_. I have served in all weathers,\nand in all climates, but chiefly in the torrid zone of politics, where\nthe passions of all men are on fire, and where such as have lived the\nlongest, and are thought the happiest, are scarcely able to reconcile\nthemselves to the sultry air of the place. But this warfare is now\nhappily at an end. I have languished these many years for the shade.\nThanks to my Lord ST. ALBANS, and another noble lord you know of, I\nhave now gained it. And it is not a small matter, I assure you, shall\nforce me out of this shelter.\n\nNothing is easier, said I, than for you men of wit to throw a ridicule\nupon any thing. It is but applying a quaint figure, or a well-turned\nsentence, and the business is done. But indeed, my best friend, it\ngives me pain to find you not so much diverting as deceiving yourself\nwith this unseasonable ingenuity. So long as these sallies of fancy\nwere employed only to enliven conversation, or furnish matter for an\node or an epigram, all was very well. But now that you seem disposed\nto _act_ upon them, you must excuse me if I take the matter a little\nmore seriously. To deal plainly with you, I come to tell you my whole\nmind on this subject: and, to give what I have to say the greater\nconsequence with you, I must not conceal from you, that I come\ncommissioned by the excellent lord you honour so much, and have just\nnow mentioned, to expostulate in the freest manner with you upon it.\n\nWe had continued walking all this time, and were now ascending a\nsort of natural terras. It led to a small thicket, in the entrance\nof which was a seat that commanded a pleasant view of the country\nand the river. Taking me up to it, \u201cWell,\u201d said he, \u201cmy good friend,\nsince your purpose in coming hither is so kind, and my Lord ST. ALBANS\nhimself doth me the honour to think my private concerns deserving his\nparticular notice, it becomes me to receive your message with respect,\nand to debate the matter, since you press it so home upon me, with all\npossible calmness. But let us, if you please, sit down here. You will\nfind it the most agreeable spot I have to treat you with; and the shade\nwe have about us will not, I suppose, at this hour, be unwelcome.\u201d\n\nAnd now, turning himself to me, \u201cLet me hear from you, what there\nis in my retreat to this place, which a wise man can have reason to\ncensure, or which may deserve the disallowance of a friend. I know you\ncome prepared with every argument which men of the world have at any\ntime employed against retirement; and I know your ability to give to\neach its full force. But look upon this scene before you, and tell me\nwhat inducements I can possibly have to quit it for any thing you can\npromise me in exchange? Is there in that vast labyrinth, you call the\nworld, where so many thousands lose themselves in endless wanderings\nand perplexities, any corner where the mind can recollect itself so\nperfectly, where it can attend to its own business, and pursue its\nproper interests so conveniently, as in this quiet and sequestered\nspot? Here the passions subside; or, if they continue to agitate,\ndo not however transport the mind with those feverish and vexatious\nfervours, which distract us in public life. This is the seat of virtue\nand of reason; here I can fashion my life by the precepts of duty\nand conscience; and here I have leisure to make acquaintance, that\nacquaintance which elsewhere is so rarely made, with the ways and works\nof God.\n\nThink again, my friend. Doth not the genius of the place seize you? Do\nyou not perceive a certain serenity steal in upon you? Doth not the\naspect of things around you, the very stillness of this retreat, infuse\na content and satisfaction which the world knows nothing of? Tell me,\nin a word, is there not something like enchantment about us? Do you not\nfind your desires more composed, your purposes more pure, your thoughts\nmore elevated, and more active, since your entrance into this scene?\u201d\n\nHe was proceeding in this strain, with an air of perfect enthusiasm,\nwhen I broke in upon him with asking, \u201cWhether this was what he called\n_debating the matter calmly with me_. Surely,\u201d said I, \u201cthis is poetry,\nor something still more extravagant. You cannot think I come prepared\nto encounter you in this way. I own myself no match for you at these\nweapons: which indeed are too fine for my handling, and very unsuitable\nto my purpose if they were not. The point is not which of us can say\nthe handsomest things, but the truest, on either side of the question.\nIt is, as you said, plain argument, and not rhetorical flourishes, much\nless poetical raptures, that must decide the matter in debate. Not but\na great deal might be said on my side, and, it may be, with more colour\nof truth, had I the command of an eloquence proper to set it off.\n\nI might ask, in my turn, \u201cWhere is mighty charm that draws you to this\ninglorious solitude, from the duties of business and conversation,\nfrom the proper end and employment of man? How comes it to pass, that\nthis stillness of a country landscape, this uninstructing, though\nagreeable enough, scene of fields and waters, should have greater\nbeauty in your eye, than _flourishing peopled towns_, the scenes of\nindustry and art, of public wealth and happiness? Is not the _sublime\ncountenance_ of man, so one of your acquaintance terms it, a more\ndelightful object than any of these humble beauties that lie before\nus? And are not the human virtues, with all their train of lovely and\nbeneficial effects in society, better worth contemplating, than the\nproducts of inanimate nature in the field or wood? Where should we seek\nfor REASON, but in the minds of men tried and polished in the school\nof civil conversation? And where hath VIRTUE so much as a being out of\nthe offices of social life? Look well into yourself, I might say: hath\nnot indeed the proper genius of solitude affected you! Doth not I know\nnot what of chagrin and discontent hang about you? Is there not a gloom\nupon your mind, which darkens your views of human nature, and damps\nthose chearful thoughts and sprightly purposes, which friendship and\nsociety inspire?\u201d\n\nYou see, Sir, were I but disposed, and as able as you are, to pursue\nthis way of fancy and declamation, I might conjure up as many frightful\nforms in these retired walks, as you have delightful ones. And the\nenchantment in good hands would, I am persuaded, have more the\nappearance of reality. But this is not the way in which I take upon\nmyself to contend with you. I would hear, if you please, what reasons,\nthat deserve to be so called, could determine you to so strange, and,\nforgive me if at present I am forced to think it, so unreasonable a\nproject, as that of devoting your health and years to this monastic\nretirement. I would lay before you the arguments, which, I presume,\nshould move you to quit a hasty, perhaps an unweighted, resolution:\nso improper in itself, so alarming to all your friends, so injurious\nto your own interest, and, permit me to say, to the public. I would\nenforce all this with the mild persuasions of a friend; and with the\nwisdom, the authority of a great person, to whose opinion you owe a\ndeference, and who deserves it too from the entire love and affection\nhe bears you.\u201d\n\nMy dearest friend, replied he, with an earnestness that awed, and a\ngoodness that melted me, I am not to learn the affection which either\nyou or my noble friend bear me. I have had too many proofs of it from\nboth, to suffer me to doubt it. But why will you not allow me to judge\nof what is proper to constitute my own happiness? And why must I be\ndenied the privilege of choosing for myself, in a matter where the\ndifferent taste or humour of others makes them so unfit to prescribe\nto me? Yet I submit to these unequal terms; and if I cannot justify the\nchoice I have made, even in the way of serious reason and argument, I\npromise to yield myself to your advice and authority. You have taken me\nperhaps a little unprepared and unfurnished for this conflict. I have\nnot marshalled my forces in form, as you seem to have done; and it may\nbe difficult, on the sudden, to methodize my thoughts in the manner\nyou may possibly expect from me. But come, said he, I will do my best\nin this emergency. You will excuse the rapture which hurried me at\nsetting out, beyond the bounds which your severer temper requires. The\nsubject always fires me; and I find it difficult, in entering on this\nargument, to restrain those triumphant sallies, which had better have\nbeen reserved for the close of it.\n\nHere he paused a little; and recollecting himself, \u201cBut first,\u201d resumed\nhe, \u201cyou will take notice, that I am not at all concerned in the\ngeneral question, so much, and, I think, so vainly agitated, \u201c_whether\na life of retirement be preferable to one of action?_\u201d I am not, I\nassure you, for unpeopling our cities, and sending their industrious\nand useful inhabitants into woods and cloisters. I acknowledge and\nadmire the improvements of arts, the conveniencies of society, the\npolicies of government[34]. I have no thought so mad or so silly, as\nthat of wishing to see the tribes of mankind disbanded, their interests\nand connexions dissolved, and themselves turned loose into a single and\nsolitary existence. I would not even wish to see our courts deserted\nof their homagers, though I cannot but be of opinion, that an airing\nnow and then at their country houses, and that not with the view of\ndiverting, but recollecting themselves, would prove as useful to their\nsense and virtue, as to their estates. But all this, as I said, is so\nfar from coming into the scheme of my serious wishes, that it does not\nso much as enter into my thoughts. Let wealth, and power, and pleasure,\nbe as eagerly sought after, as they ever will be: let thousands or\nmillions assemble in vast towns, for the sake of pursuing their several\nends, as it may chance, of profit, vanity, or amusement: All this\nis nothing to me, who pretend not to determine for other men, but to\nvindicate my own choice of this retirement.\n\nAs much as I have been involved in the engagements of business, I\nhave not lived thus long without looking frequently, and sometimes\nattentively into myself. I maintain, then, that to a person so moulded\nas I am; of the _temper and turn of mind_, which Nature hath given me;\nof _the sort of talents_, with which education or genius hath furnished\nme; and, lastly, of the _circumstances_, in which fortune hath placed\nme; I say, to a person so charactered and so situated, RETIREMENT is\nnot only his choice, but his duty; is not only what his inclination\nleads him to, but his judgement. And upon these grounds, if you will, I\nventure to undertake my own apology to you.\u201d\n\nYour proposal, said I, is fair, and I can have no objection to close\nwith you upon these terms; only you must take care, my friend, that\nyou do not mistake or misrepresent your own talents or character;\na miscarriage, which, allow me to say, is not very rare from the\npartialities which an indulged humour, too easily taken for nature, is\napt to create in us.\n\nOr what, replied he, if this humour, as you call it, be so rooted as to\nbecome a _second_ nature? Can it, in the instance before us, be worth\nthe pains of correcting?\n\nI should think so, returned I, in your case. But let me first hear the\njudgement you form of yourself, before I trouble you with that which I\nand your other friends make of you.\n\nI cannot but think, resumed he, that my situation at present must\nappear very ridiculous. I am forced into an _apology_ for my own\nconduct, in a very nice affair, which it might become another, rather\nthan myself, to make for me. In order to this, I am constrained to\nreveal to you the very secrets, that is, the foibles and weaknesses,\nof my own heart. I am to lay myself open and naked before you. This\nwould be an unwelcome task to most men. But your friendship, and\nthe confidence I have in your affection, prevail over all scruples.\nHitherto your friend hath used the common privilege of wearing a\ndisguise, of masking himself, as the poet makes his hero, in a _cloud_,\nwhich is of use to keep off the too near and curious inspection both of\nfriends and enemies. But, at your bidding, it falls off, and you are\nnow to see him in his just proportion and true features.\n\nMy best friend, proceeded he with an air of earnestness and\nrecollection, it is now above forty years that I have lived in this\nworld: and in all the rational part of that time there hath not, I\nbelieve, a single day passed without an ardent longing for such a\nretreat from it, as you see me at length blessed with. You have heard\nme repeat some verses, which were made by me so early as the age of\n_thirteen_, and in which that inclination is expressed as strongly, as\nin any thing I have ever said or written on that subject[35]. Hence you\nmay guess the proper turn and bias of my nature; which began so soon,\nand hath continued thus long, to shew itself in the constant workings\nof that passion.\n\nEven in my earliest years at school, you will hardly imagine how uneasy\nconstraint of every kind was to me, and with what delight I broke away\nfrom the customary sports and pastimes of that age, to saunter the\ntime away by myself, or with a companion, if I could meet with any\nsuch, of my own humour. The same inclination pursued me to college;\nwhere a private walk, with a book or friend, was beyond any amusement,\nwhich, in that sprightly season of life, I had any acquaintance with.\nIt is with a fond indulgence my memory even now returns to these past\npleasures. It was in those retired ramblings that a thousand charming\nperceptions and bright ideas would stream in upon me. The Muse was\nkindest in those hours: and, I know not how, Philosophy herself would\n_oftner_ meet me amidst the willows of the CAM, than in the formal\nschools of science, within the walls of my college, or in my tutor\u2019s\nchamber.\n\nI understand, said I, the true secret of that matter. You had now\ncontracted an intimacy with the poets, and others of the fanciful\ntribe. You was even admitted of their company; and it was but fit you\nshould adopt their sentiments, and speak their language. Hence those\nday-dreams of _shade and silence_, and I know not what visions, which\ntransport the minds of young men, on their entrance into these regions\nof _Parnassus_.\n\nIt should seem then, returned he, by your way of expressing it, as if\nyou thought this passion for _shade and silence_ was only pretended to\non a principle of _fashion_; or, at most, was catched by the lovers of\npoetry from each other, in the way of _sympathy_, without nature\u2019s\nhaving any hand at all in the production of it.\n\nSomething like that, I told him, was my real sentiment: and that these\nagreeable reveries of the old poets had done much hurt by being taken\ntoo seriously. Were HORACE and VIRGIL, think you, as much in earnest\nas you appear to be, when they were crying out perpetually on their\nfavourite theme of _otium_ and _secessus_, \u201cthey, who lived and died in\na court?\u201d\n\nI believe, said he, they were, and that the short accounts we have of\ntheir lives shew it, though a perfect dismission from the court was\nwhat they could not obtain, or had not the resolution to insist upon.\nBut pray, upon your principles, that all this is but the enchantment of\n_example_ or _fashion_, how came it to pass, that the first seducers of\nthe family, the old poets themselves, had fallen into these notions?\nThey were surely no pretenders. They could only write from the heart.\nAnd methinks it were more candid, as well as more reasonable, to\naccount for this passion, which hath so constantly shewn itself in\ntheir successors, from the same reason. It is likely indeed, and so\nmuch I can readily allow, that the early reading of the poets might\ncontribute something to confirm and strengthen my natural bias[36].\n\nBut let the matter rest for the present. I would now go on with the\ndetail of my own life and experience, so proper, as I think, to\nconvince you that what I am pleading for is the result of nature.\n\nI was saying how agreeably my youth passed in these reveries, if you\nwill have it so, and especially _inter sylvas academi_:\n\n    Dura sed emovere loco me tempora grato,\n    Civilisque rudem belli tulit \u00e6stus in arma.\n\nYou know the consequence. This civil turmoil drove me from the shelter\nof retirement into the heat and bustle of life; from those studies\nwhich, as you say, had enchanted my youth, into business and action\nof all sorts. I lived in the world: I conversed familiarly with the\ngreat. A change like this, one would suppose, were enough to undo the\nprejudices of education. But the very reverse happened. The further\nI engaged, and the longer I continued in this scene, the greater my\nimpatience was of retiring from it.\n\nBut you will say, my old vice was nourished in me by living in the\nneighbourhood of books and letters[37]. I was yet in the fairy land\nof the Muses; and, under these circumstances, it was no wonder that\nneither arms nor business, nor a court, could prevent the mind from\nreturning to its old bias. All this may be true. And yet, I think,\nif that court had contained many such persons as some I knew in\nit, neither the distractions of business on the one hand, nor the\nblandishments of the Muse on the other, could have disposed me to leave\nit. But there were few LORD FALKLANDS\u2014and unhappily my admiration of\nthat nobleman\u2019s worth and honour[38] created an invincible aversion to\nthe rest, who had little resemblance of his virtues.\n\nI would not be thought, said I, to detract from so accomplished a\ncharacter as that of the Lord FALKLAND; but surely there was something\nin his notions of honour\u2014\n\nNot a word, interrupted he eagerly, that may but seem to throw a shade\non a virtue the brightest and purest that hath done honour to these\nlater ages.\u2014But I turn from a subject that interests me too much, and\nwould lead me too far. Whatever attractions there might be in such a\nplace, and in such _friendships_, the iniquity of the times soon forced\nme from them. Yet I had the less reason to complain, as my next removal\nwas into the family of so beneficent a patron as the Lord JERMYN, and\ninto the court of so accomplished a princess as the QUEEN MOTHER.\n\nMy residence, you know, was now for many years in _France_; a country,\nwhich piques itself on all the refinements of civility. Here the world\nwas to appear to me in its fairest form, and, it was not doubted, would\nput on all its charms to wean me from the love of a studious retired\nlife. I will not say I was disappointed in this expectation. All that\nthe elegance of polished manners could contribute to make society\nattractive, was to be found in this new scene. My situation, besides,\nwas such, that I came to have a sort of familiarity with greatness.\nYet shall I confess my inmost sentiments of this splendid life to you?\nI found it empty, fallacious, and even disgusting. The outside indeed\nwas fair. But to me, who had an opportunity of looking it through,\nnothing could be more deformed and hateful. All was ambition, intrigue,\nand falsehood. Every one intent on his own schemes, frequently wicked,\nalways base and selfish. Great professions of honour, of friendship,\nand of duty; but all ending in low views and sordid practices. No\ntruth, no sincerity: without which, conversation is but words; and the\npolish of manners, the idlest foppery.\n\nSurely, interposed I, this picture must be overcharged. Frailties\nand imperfections, no doubt, there will be in all societies of men,\nespecially where there is room for competition in their pursuits of\nhonour and interest. But your idea of a court is that of a den of\nthieves, only better dressed, and more civilized.\n\nThat however, said he, is the idea under which truth obliges me to\nrepresent it. Believe me, I have been long enough acquainted with\nthat country, to give you a pretty exact account of its inhabitants.\nTheir sole business is to follow the humour of the prince, or of his\nfavourite, to speak the current language, to serve the present turn,\nand to cozen one another. In short, their virtue is, civility; and\ntheir sense, cunning. You will guess now, continued he, how uneasy I\nmust be in such company; I, who cannot lie, though it were to make a\nfriend, or ruin an enemy; who have been taught to bear no respect to\nany but true wisdom; and, whether it be nature or education, could\nnever endure (pardon the foolish boast) that hypocrisy should usurp the\nhonours, and triumph in the spoils of virtue.\n\nNay further, my good friend, (for I must tell you all I know of myself,\nthough it expose me ever so much to the charge of folly or even\nvanity) I was not born for courts and general conversation. Besides\nthe unconquerable aversion I have to knaves and fools (though these\nlast, but that they are commonly knaves too, I could bring myself\nto tolerate); besides this uncourtly humour, I have another of so\nodd a kind, that I almost want words to express myself intelligibly\nto you. It is a sort of capricious delicacy, which occasions a wide\ndifference in my estimation of those characters, in which the world\nmakes no distinction. It is not enough to make me converse with ease\nand pleasure with a man, that I see no notorious vices, or even observe\nsome considerable virtues in him. His good qualities must have a\ncertain grace, and even his sense must be of a certain turn, to give me\na relish of his conversation.\n\nI see you smile at this talk, and am aware how fantastic this\nsqueamishness must appear to you. But it is with men and manners,\nas with the forms and aspects of natural things. A thousand objects\nrecal ideas, and excite sensations in my mind, which seem to be not\nperceived, or not heeded, by other men. The look of a country, the\nvery shading of a landskip, shall have a sensible effect on me, which\nthey, who have as good eyes, appear to make no account of. It is just\nthe same with the characters of men. I conceive a disgust at some,\nand a secret regard for others, whom many, I believe, would estimate\njust alike. And what is worse, a long and general conversation hath\nnot been able to cure me of this foible. I question, said he, turning\nhimself to me, but, if I was called upon to assign the reasons of that\nentire affection, which knits me to my best friend, they would be\nresolved at last into a something, which they, who love him perhaps as\nwell, would have no idea of.\n\nHe said this in a way that disarmed me, or I had it in my mind to have\nrallied him on his doctrine of _occult qualities_ and _unintelligible_\nforms. I therefore contented myself with saying, that I must not hear\nhim go on at this strange rate; and asked him if it was possible he\ncould suffer himself to be biassed, in an affair of this moment, by\nsuch whimsies?\n\nThose whimsies, resumed he, had a real effect. But consider further,\nthe endless impertinencies of conversation; the dissipation, and loss\nof time; the diversion of the mind from all that is truly useful or\ninstructive, from what a reasonable man would or should delight in:\nadd to these, the vexations of business; the slavery of dependence,\nthe discourtesies of some, the grosser injuries of others; the danger,\nor the scorn, to which virtue is continually subject; in short, the\nknavery, or folly, or malevolence, of all around you; and tell me,\nif any thing but the unhappy times, and a sense of duty, could have\ndetained a man of my temper and principles so long in a station of life\nso very uneasy and disgusting to me.\n\nNothing is easier, said I, than to exaggerate the inconveniencies of\nany situation. The world and the court have doubtless theirs. But you\nseem to forget one particular; that the _unhappy times_ you speak of,\nand the state of the court, were an excuse for part of the disagreeable\ncircumstances you have mentioned. The face of things is now altered.\nThe storm is over. A calm has succeeded. And why should not you take\nthe benefit of these halcyon days, in which so many others have found\ntheir ease, and even enjoyment?\n\nThese halcyon days, returned he, are not, alas! what unexperienced men\nare ready to represent them. The same vices, the same follies, prevail\nstill, and are even multiplied and enflamed by prosperity. A suffering\ncourt, if any, might be expected to be the seedplot of virtues. But,\nto satisfy your scruples, I have even made a trial of these happier\ntimes. All I wished to myself from the happiest, was but such a return\nfor my past services, as might enable me to retire with decency. Such\na return I seem not to have merited. And I care not at this time of day\nto waste more of my precious time in deserving a better treatment.\n\nYour day, said I, is not so far spent, as to require this hasty\ndetermination. Besides, if this be all, the world may be apt to censure\nyour retreat, as the effect of chagrin and disappointment.\n\nHis colour rose, as I said this. The world, resumed he, will censure as\nit sees fit. I must have leave at length to judge for myself in what so\nessentially concerns my own happiness. Though if ever _chagrin_ may be\npleaded as a reason for retirement, perhaps nobody had ever a better\nright than I have to plead it. You know what hath happened of late,\nto give me a disgust to courts. You know the view I had in my late\ncomedy[39] and the grounds I had to expect that it would not be ill\ntaken. But you know too the issue of that attempt. And should I, after\nthis experience of courtly gratitude, go about to solicit their favours?\n\nBut, to let you see that I am swayed by better motives than those of\n_chagrin_, I shall not conceal from you what I am proud enough to think\nof my TALENTS, as well as temper.\n\nThere are but two sorts of men, pursued he, that should think of living\nin a court, however it be that we see animals of all sorts, clean and\nunclean, enter into it.\n\nThe one is of those strong and active spirits that are formed for\nbusiness, whose ambition reconciles them to the bustle of life, and\nwhose capacity fits them for the discharge of its functions. These,\nespecially if of noble birth and good fortunes, are destined to fill\nthe first offices in a state; and if, peradventure, they add virtue to\ntheir other parts and qualities, are the blessings of the age they live\nin. Some few such there have been in former times; and the present, it\nmay be, is not wholly without them.\n\nThe OTHER sort, are what one may properly enough call, if the phrase\nwere not somewhat uncourtly, the MOB OF COURTS; they, who have vanity\nor avarice without ambition, or ambition without talents. These, by\nassiduity, good luck, and the help of their vices (for they would scorn\nto earn advancement, if it were to be had, by any worthy practices),\nmay in time succeed to the lower posts in a government; and together\nmake up that showey, servile, selfish crowd, we dignify with the name\nof COURT.\n\nNow, though I think too justly of myself to believe I am qualified\nto enter into the _former_ of these lists, you may conclude, if you\nplease, that I am too proud to brigue for an admission into the\n_latter_. I pretend not to great abilities of any kind; but let me\npresume a little in supposing, that I may have some too good to be\nthrown away on such company.\n\nHere, my lord, the unusual freedom, and even indecency, of Mr. COWLEY\u2019S\ninvective against courts, transported me so far, that I could not\nforbear turning upon him with some warmth. Surely, said I, my friend\nis much changed from what I always conceived of him. This heat of\nlanguage, from one of your candour, surprises me equally with the\ninjustice of it. It is so far from _calm reasoning_, that it wants\nbut little, methinks, of downright railing. I believe, continued I,\nthat I think more highly, that is, more justly, of Mr. COWLEY in every\nrespect, than he allows himself to do. Yet I see not that either his\ntime, or his talents, would be misemployed in the services he so much\nundervalues. Permit me to say, your resentment hath carried you too\nfar; and that you do not enough consider the friends you left at court,\nor the noble lord that wishes your return thither.\n\nI do, said he hastily, consider both. But, with your leave, since I\nam forced to defend myself against an ignominious charge, I must do\nmyself the right to assume what I think belongs to me. I repeat it; I\nhave long thought my time lost in the poor amusements and vanities of\nthe great world, and have felt an impatience to get into a quiet scene,\nwhere, slender as my talents are, I might employ them to better purpose.\n\nAnd think not, proceeded he, that I am carried to this choice by any\nthing so frivolous as the idleness of a poetical fancy. Not but the\nMuse, which hath been the darling of my youth, may deserve to be the\ncompanion of my riper age. For I am far from renouncing an art, which,\nunprofitable as it hath ever been to me, is always entertaining: and\nwhen employed, as I mean it shall be, in other services than those by\nwhich a voluptuous court seems willing to disgrace it, I see not what\nthere is in this amusement of poetry, for the severest censor of life\nand manners to take offence at. Yet still I intend it for an amusement.\nMy serious occupations will be very different; such as you, my friend,\ncannot disapprove, and should encourage. But I have opened to you my\nintentions more than once, and need not give you the trouble at this\ntime to hear me explain them.\n\nYou mean, interposed I, to apply yourself to _natural_ and _religious_\ninquiries. Your design is commendable; and I would not dissuade you\nfrom it. But what should hinder your pursuing this design as well in\nsociety as in this solitude?\n\nWhat, at COURT, returned he, where the only object, that all men are in\nquest of, is GAIN; and the only deity they acknowledge, FORTUNE? Or\nsay that such idolatries did not prevail, there, how shall the mind be\ncalm enough for so sublime inquiries? or where, but in this scene of\ngenuine nature, is there an opportunity to indulge in them? Here, if\nany where, is the observation of the poet verified, DEUS EST QUODCUNQUE\nVIDES. Look round, my friend, on this florid earth, on the various\nclasses of _animals_ that inhabit, and the countless _vegetable_ tribes\nthat adorn it. Here is the proper school of wisdom,\n\n    And this our life, exempt from public haunt,\n    Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,\n    Sermons in stones, and good in every thing[40].\n\nInfinite are the uses, continued he, which would result from this\nmethod of applying experiment and observation to _Natural Science_.\nI have taken occasion, you know, to offer a slight sketch of them to\nthe Public very lately[41]. But the principal I would draw from it to\nmyself should be, to inure the mind to just conceptions of the divine\nnature; that so, with the better advantage, I might turn myself to\nthe awful study of his _Word_. And here, my friend, I am sensible how\nmuch I may expect to be animated by your zeal, and enlightened by your\ninstruction. In the mean time, I pretend to possess some qualities,\nwhich, if rightly applied, may not be unsuitable to so high an\nundertaking. I feel myself impelled by an eager curiosity: I have much\npatience, and some skill in making experiments. I may even be allowed\nto boast of a readiness in the learned languages; and am not without\na tincture of such other studies, as the successful prosecution of\nPHYSICS, and still more of DIVINITY, requires. You may further impute\nto me, if you please, an ingenuous love of truth, and an ordinary\ndegree of judgment to discern it.\n\nThese, concluded he, are the TALENTS, of which I spoke to you so\nproudly; and with the help of these (especially if you allow me _one_\nother, the power of _communicating_ what I may chance to learn of\nnatural or divine things), I might hope to render a better account of\nthis solitude, than of any employments I could reasonably aspire to, in\nthe world of men and of business.\n\nHe said this with an air of solemnity, which left me a little at a\nloss what to reply to him, when he relieved my perplexity by adding,\n\u201cbut, though there was nothing of all this in the case, and my zeal for\npromoting knowledge in this private way were as lightly to be accounted\nof, as _that_, which led me to propose the more extensive scheme I\nbefore mentioned, probably will be, yet what should draw me from this\nleisure of a learned retirement? For though I please myself with the\nprospect of doing some _public_ service by my studies, yet need I blush\nto own, to my learned friend, the fondness I should still have for\nthem, were they only to end in my own _private_ enjoyment? Yes, let me\nopen my whole soul to you. I have ever delighted in letters, and have\neven found them, what the world is well enough content they should be,\ntheir own reward. I doubt, if this language would be understood in all\ncompanies. And let others speak as they find. But to me the year would\ndrag heavily, and life itself be no life, if it were not quickened by\nthese ingenuous pleasures.\u201d\n\nIndeed, were it only for the very quiet and indolence of mind, which\nretirement promises, why should I be envied this calm in the decline of\na troubled life? But let the Muse speak for me,\n\n    \u201cAfter long toils and voyages in vain,\n    This quiet port let my tost vessel gain;\n    Of heav\u2019nly rest this earnest to me lend,\n    Let my life sleep, and learn to love her end.\u201d\n\nAnd what if they, who have not the means of enjoying this rest, submit\nto the drudgery of business? Is that a reason for me to continue in it,\nwho have made my fortune, even to the extent of my wishes? I see you\nsmile at this boast. But where would you have me stop in my desires; or\nwhat is it you would have me understand by the mysterious language of\n_making a fortune_? Is it two hundred a year, or four, or a thousand?\nSay, where shall we fix, or what limits will you undertake to prescribe\nto the vague and shifting notion of a competency? Or, shall we own\nthe truth at once, that every thing is a _competency_ which a man is\ncontented to live upon, and that therefore it varies only, as his\ndesires are more or less contracted?\n\nTo talk at any other rate of a _man\u2019s fortune_, is surely to expose\none\u2019s self to the ridicule, which the philosopher, you know, threw on\nthe restless humour of king Pyrrhus. \u2019Tis whim, chimera, madness, or\nwhat you will, except sober reason and common sense. Yet still the\nworld cries, \u201cWhat, sit down with a pittance, when the ways of honour\nand fortune are open to you? take up with what may barely satisfy, when\nyou have so fair a chance for affluence, and even superfluity?\u201d\n\nAlas! and will that _affluence_, then, more than satisfy? or can it be\nworth the while to labour, for a _superfluity_?\n\n\u2019Tis true the violence of the times, in which it was my fortune to\nbear a part, had left me bare and unprovided even of those moderate\naccommodations, which my education and breeding might demand, and which\na parent\u2019s piety had indeed bequeathed to me. It was but fitting then\nI should strive to repair this loss; and the rather, as my honest\nservices gave me leave to hope for a speedy reparation. And thus far\nI was contented to try my fortune in the court, though at the expence\nof much uneasy attendance and solicitation. But, seeing that this\nassiduity was without effect, and that the bounty of two excellent\npersons[42] hath now set me above the necessity of continuing it, what\nmadness were it to embark again\n\n    \u201cFluctibus in mediis et tempestatibus urbis!\u201d\n\nSo that if you will needs be urging me with the ceaseless exhortation of\n\n    \u201cI, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat: I pede fausto,\n    Grandia laturus meritorum pr\u00e6mia:\u2014\u201d\n\nI must take leave to remind you of the sage reply that was made to\nit. It was, you know, by an old soldier, who found himself exactly in\nmy situation. The purse, which he had lost by one accident, he had\nrecovered by another. The conclusion was, that he had no mind, in this\ndifferent state of affairs, to turn adventurer again, and expose\nhimself to the same perilous encounters:\n\n    \u201cPost h\u00e6c ille catus, quantumvis RUSTICUS, ibit,\n    Ibit eo, quo vis QUI ZONAM PERDIDIT, inquit.\u201d\n\nIn one word, my friend, I am happy here, as you see me, in my little\nfarm, which yet is large enough to answer all my real necessities; and\nI am not in the humour of him in the fable[43], to fill my head with\nvisions, and spend a wretched life in quest of the _flying island_.\n\nAnd now, added he, you have before you in one view the principal\nreasons that have determined me to this retreat. I might have enlarged\non each more copiously; but I know to whom I speak: and perhaps to such\na one I might even have spared a good deal of what I have now been\noffering, from the several considerations of my TEMPER, TALENTS, and\nSITUATION.\n\nHere he stopped. And now, my lord, it came to my turn to take the\nlead in this controversy. There was indeed an ample field before me.\nAnd, if the other side of the question afforded most matter for wit\nand declamation, mine had all the advantages of good sense and sound\nreason. The superiority was so apparent, and my victory over him, in\npoint of argument, so sure, that I thought it needless and ungenerous\nto press him on every article of his defence, in which he had laid\nhimself open to me.\n\nYour lordship hath, no doubt, observed, with wonder and with pity, the\nstrange spirit that runs through every part of it: the confined way of\nthinking, which hath crept upon him; the cynical severity, he indulges\nagainst courts; the importance he would sometimes assume to his own\ncharacter; the peevish turn of mind, that leads him to take offence at\nthe lighter follies and almost excusable vices of the great; in short,\nthe resentment, the pique, the chagrin, which one overlooks in the\nhopeless suitor, or hungry poet, but which are very unaccountable in\none of Mr. COWLEY\u2019S condition and situation.\n\nHere then, my lord, was a fair occasion for a willing adversary. But\nI spared the infirmities of my friend. I judged it best, too, to\nkeep him in temper, and avoid that heat of altercation, which must\nhave arisen from touching these indiscretions, as they deserved. Your\nlordship sees the reason I had for confining my reply to such parts\nof his apology, as bore the fairest shew of argument, and might be\nencountered without offence.\n\nWhen he had ended, therefore, with so formal a recapitulation of his\ndiscourse, I thought it not amiss to follow him in his own train; and,\ndissembling the just exceptions I had to his vindication in other\nrespects, \u201cYou have proceeded, said I, in a very distinct method, and\nhave said as much, I believe, on the subject, as so bad a cause would\nadmit. But if this indeed be all you have to allege, for so uncommon\na fancy, you must not think it strange, if I pronounce it, without\nscruple, very insufficient for your purpose.\n\nFor, to give your several pleas a distinct examination, what is that\nTEMPER, let me ask, on which you insist so much, but a wayward humour,\nwhich your true judgement should correct and controul by the higher\nand more important regards of _duty_? Every man is born with some\nprevailing propensity or other, which, if left to itself, and indulged\nbeyond certain bounds, would grow to be very injurious to himself\nand society. There is something, no doubt, amusing in the notion of\n_retirement_. The very word implies ease and quiet, and self-enjoyment.\nAnd who doubts, that in the throng and bustle of life, most men are\nfond to image to themselves, and even to wish for a scene of more\ncomposure and tranquillity? It is just as natural as that the labourer\nshould long for his repose at night; or that the soldier, amidst the\ndust and heat of a summer\u2019s march, should wish for the conveniencies\nof shade and shelter. But what wild work would it make if these so\nnatural desires should be immediately gratified? if the labourer should\nquit his plow, and the soldier his arms, to throw themselves into the\nfirst shade or thicket that offered refreshment? All you have therefore\nsaid on this article can really stand for nothing in the eye of sober\nreason, whatever figure it may make in the dress of your eloquence[44].\nThe inconveniencies of every station are to be endured from the\nobligations of duty, and on account of the services one is bound to\nrender to himself and his country.\n\nTrue, replied he, if it appeared to be one\u2019s duty, or even interest, to\ncontinue in that station. But what principle of conscience binds me to\na slavish dependence at court? or what interest, public or private, can\nbe an equivalent for wearing these chains, when I have it in my power\nto throw them off, and redeem myself into a state of liberty?\n\nWhat _Interest_, do you ask? returned I. Why that great and extensive\none, which _society_ hath in an honest and capable man\u2019s continuing to\nbear a part in public affairs. For as to inducements of another kind,\nI may find occasion hereafter to press them upon you more seasonably.\nConsider well with yourself, what would the consequence be, if all\nmen of honour and ability were to act upon your principles? What a\nworld would this be, if knaves and fools only had the management in\ntheir hands, and all the virtuous and wise, as it were by common\nconsent, were to withdraw from it? Nay, the issue would even be fatal\nto themselves; and they would presently find it impossible to taste\nrepose, even in their own sanctuary of retirement.\n\nSmall need, replied he, to terrify one\u2019s self with such apprehensions.\nThe virtuous, at least they who pass for such, will generally have\nambition enough to keep them in the road of public employments. So\nlong as there are such things as riches and honours, courts will never\nbe unfurnished of suitors, even from among the tribes of lettered\nand virtuous men. The desperately bad, at least, will never have the\nfield left entirely to themselves. And, after all, the interest of\nmen in office is, in the main, so providentially connected with some\nregard to the rules of honour and conscience, that there is seldom\nany danger that matters should come to extremities under the _worst_\nadministration. And I doubt this is all we are to expect, or at least\nto reckon upon with assurance, under the very _best_.\n\nBut my answer is more direct. It is not for your little friend to think\nof getting a seat in the cabinet-council, or of conducting the great\naffairs of the state. He knows himself to be as unfit for those high\ntrusts, as he is incapable of aspiring to them. Besides, he does not\nallow himself to doubt of their being discharged with perfect ability,\nby the great persons who now fill them. HE, at least, who occupies\nthe foremost place of authority, is, by the allowance of all, to be\nparalleled with any that the wisest prince hath ever advanced to that\nstation[45]. And when so consummate a pilot sits at the helm, it seems\na matter of little moment by what hands the vessel of the commonwealth\nis navigated.\n\nI could not agree with him in this concluding remark, and much less in\nthe high-flown encomium which introduced it[46]. But, waving these\nlesser matters, I contented myself with observing, \u201cThat let him put\nwhat gloss he would on this humour of declining civil business, it must\nneeds be considered by all unbiassed persons, as highly prejudicial to\npublic order and government; that, if good men would not be employed,\nthe bad must; and that, to say the least, the cause of learning and\nvirtue must suffer exceedingly in the eyes of men, when they see those\nvery qualities, which alone can render us useful to the world, dispose\nus to fly from it.\u201d\n\nFor as to the _plea_, continued I, of employing them to better purpose\nin the way of _private and solitary_ CONTEMPLATION, I can hold it for\nlittle better than enthusiasm. Several persons, I know, would give\nit a worse name, and say, as TACITUS somewhere does, that it serves\nonly for a specious cover to that love of ease and self-indulgence,\nwhich he will have to be at the bottom of such pretences[47]. But even\nwith the best construction the matter was capable of, he could never,\nI insisted, justify that plea to the understandings of prudent and\nknowing men. We allow the obscure pedant to talk high of the dignity\nof his office, and magnify, as much as he pleases, the importance of\nhis speculations. Such an indulgence serves to keep him in humour with\nhimself, and may be a means to convert a low and plodding genius to\nthe only use of which it is capable. But for a man of experience in\naffairs, and who is qualified to shine in them, to hold this language,\nis very extraordinary.\n\nI saw with what impatience he heard me, and therefore took care to\nadd, \u201c\u2019Tis true, the studies to which you would devote yourself, are\nthe noblest in the world of science. For _Divinity_, the very name\nspeaks its elogium. And the countenance which his majesty is pleased,\nin his true wisdom, to give to _natural science_, must be thought to\nennoble that branch of learning beyond all others, that are merely\nof human consideration. Yet still, my friend, what need of taking\nthese studies out of the hands of those, to whom they are properly\nintrusted? Religion is very safe in the bosom of the national church.\nAnd questions of natural science will doubtless be effectually cleared\nand ventilated in the _New Society_[48], and in the schools of our\n_Universities_. It could never be his majesty\u2019s intention to thin his\ncourt, for the sake of furnishing students in natural philosophy.\u201d\n\nAnd can you then, interposed he, in your concern for what you very\nimproperly call my interests, allow yourself to speak so coolly of the\ngreat interests of natural and divine truth? Is religion a trade to\nbe confined to the craftsmen? Or, are fellows of colleges and of the\nRoyal Society, if such we are to have, the only persons concerned to\nadore God in the wonders of his creation? Pardon me, my friend: I know\nyou mean nothing less; but the strange indifference of your phrase\nprovokes me to this expostulation.\n\nYou warm yourself, resumed I, too hastily. My design was only to\nsuggest, that as there are certain orders of men appointed for the sole\npurpose of studying divinity, and advancing philosophy, I did not see\nthat a man of business was obliged to desert his proper station for the\nsake of either.\n\nI suspect, said he, there may be some equivocation wrapped up in\nthat word _obliged_. All I know is, that I shall spend my time more\ninnocently, at least; and, I presume to think, more usefully in those\nstudies, than in that slippery _station_, if it may deserve to be\ncalled one, of court-favour and dependence. And if I extended the\nobservation to many others, that are fond to take up their residence in\nthese quarters, I cannot believe I should do them any injustice.\n\nI cannot tell, returned I, against whom this censure is pointed. But\nI know there are many of the gravest characters, and even lights and\nfathers of the church, who do not consider it as inconsistent, either\nwith their duty, or the usefulness of their profession, to continue in\nthat station.\n\nO! mistake me not, replied he: I intended no reflection on any of the\nclergy, and much less on the great prelates of the church, for their\nattendance in the courts of princes. Theirs is properly an exempt\ncase. They are the authorized guides and patterns of life. Their great\nabilities indeed qualify them, above all others, for serving the cause\nof science and religion, by their private studies and meditations.\nBut they very properly consider too, that part of their duty is to\nenlighten the ignorant of all ranks, by their wise and pious discourse,\nand to awe and reclaim the wandering of all denominations, by their\nexample. Hence it is, that I cannot enough admire the zeal of so many\npastors of the church; who, though the slavish manners and libertinism\nof a court must be more than ordinarily offensive to men of their\ncharacters, continue to discharge their office so painfully, and yet so\npunctually, in that situation.\n\nHere, my lord, observing my friend for once to deliver himself\nreasonably, I was encouraged to add, that since he was so just to\nmaintain the commerce of good and wise churchmen in the great world\nto be, as it truly was, a matter of duty, he should also have the\ncandour to own, that his withdrawing from it was, at least, a work of\n_Supererogation_.\n\nIt might be so, he said; but, though our church gave no encouragement\nto think we merit by such works, he did not know that it condemned and\nutterly forbad them.\n\nO! but, returned I, if that be all, and you acknowledge at last that\nyour _retiring_ is no matter of duty, it will be easy to advance\nanother step, and demonstrate to you, that such a project is, in your\ncase, altogether unreasonable[49].\n\nFor, notwithstanding all you have said, in the spirit and language\nof stoicism, of the comforts of your present SITUATION, will you\nseriously undertake to persuade me that they are in any degree\ncomparable to what you might propose to yourself, by returning to a\nlife of business? Is the littleness, the obscurity, and pardon me if I\neven say, the meanness of this retreat, to be put in competition with\nthe liberal and even splendid provision, which your friends at court\nwill easily be able to make for you? Is it nothing, my friend, (for\nlet us talk common sense, and not bewilder ourselves with the visions\nof philosophy) is it nothing to live in a well-furnished house, to\nkeep a good table, to command an equipage, to have many friends and\ndependants, to be courted by inferiors, to be well received by the\ngreat, and to be somebody even in the _presence_?\n\nAnd what if, in order to compass such things, some little devoirs and\nassiduities are expected? Is it not the general practice? And what\nevery body submits to, can it be ignominious? Is this any thing more\nthan conforming one\u2019s self to the necessary subordination of society?\nOr, what if some time passes in these services, which a present humour\nsuggests might be more agreeably spent in other amusements? The\nrecompence cannot be far off; and, in the mean time, the lustre and\nvery agitation of a life of business, hath somewhat in it sprightly\nand amusing. Besides, yours is not the case of one that is entering,\nfor the first time, on a course of expectation. Your business is half\ndone. The prince is favourable; and there are of his ministers that\nrespect and honour you. Your services are well known; your reputation\nis fair; your connexions great; and the season inviting. What, with all\nthese advantages, forego the court in a moping mood, or, as angry men\nuse, run to moralize in a cloister!\n\nI was proceeding in the warmth of this remonstrance, when, with a\nreproachful smile, he turned upon me, and, in a kind of rapture,\nrepeated the following lines of SPENSER:\n\n    \u201cFull little knowest thou, that hast not tried,\n    What hell it is in suing long to bide:\n    To lose good days, that might be better spent;\n    To waste long nights in pensive discontent:\n    To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;\n    To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow;\n    To have thy prince\u2019s grace, yet want his peeres[50];\n    To have thy askings, yet wait many yeers[51];\n    To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares;\n    To eat thy heart through comfortless despaires;\n    To faun, to crouche, to wait, to ride, to ronne;\n    To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.\u201d\n\nThis, said he, is my answer once for all to your long string of\ninterrogatories. I learnt it of one that had much experience in courts:\nand I thought it worth imprinting on my memory, to have it in readiness\non such an occasion. Or, if you would rather have my answer in my\nown words, the Muse shall give it you in a little poem, she dictated\nvery lately[52]. It may shew you perhaps, that, though my nature be\nsomewhat melancholy, I am not _moping_; and that I can moralize, and\neven _complain_, as I have reason to do, without being _angry_.\n\nThe look and tone of voice, with which he said this, a little\ndisconcerted me. But I recovered myself, and was going on to object to\nhis unreasonable warmth, and the fascination of this wicked poetry,\nwhen he stopped me with saying, \u201cCome, no more of these remonstrances\nand upbraidings. I have heard enough of your pleadings in a cause,\nwhich no eloquence can carry against my firm and fixed resolutions.\nI have seen, besides, the force you have done to yourself in this\nmock combat. Your extreme friendliness hath even tempted you to act a\npart which your true sense, and the very decorum of your profession,\nI have observed through all your disguises, has rendered painful to\nyou. I will tell you my whole mind in one word. No inducements of what\nthe world calls INTEREST, no views of HONOUR, no, nor what the poet\naptly calls, SANCTISSIMA DIVITIARUM MAJESTAS[53], shall make me recede\nfrom the purpose I am bent upon, of consecrating the remainder of a\ncomfortless distracted life, to the sweets of this obscure retirement.\nBelieve me, I have weighed it well, with all its inconveniencies.\nAnd I find them such as are nothing to the agonies have long felt\nin that troubled scene, to which you would recal me. If it hath any\ningredients, which I cannot so well relish, they are such as my\nfriends, and, above all, such as you, my best friend, may reconcile to\nme. Let me but have the pleasure to see the few, I love and esteem, in\nthese shades, and I shall not regret their solitude.\n\nAnd as for my much honoured friend, whose munificence hath placed me\nin them, I shall hope to satisfy him in the most effectual manner.\nNothing, you will believe, could give me a pain equal to that of being\nsuspected of ingratitude towards my best benefactor. It was indeed\nwith the utmost difficulty, that I constrained myself at last to think\nof leaving his service. The truth is, he expostulated with me upon it\npretty roundly; and though my resolution was taken, I left him with\nthe concern of not being able to give him entire satisfaction. These\nrepeated instances by you are a fresh proof of his goodness, and do me\nan honour I had little reason to expect from him. But his lordship\u2019s\nnotions of life and mine are very different, as is fitting in persons,\nwhom fortune hath placed in two such different situations. It becomes\nme to bear the most grateful remembrance of his kind intentions; and,\nfor the rest, I can assure myself, that his equity and nobleness\nof mind, will permit an old servant to pursue, at length, his own\ninclinations.\n\nHowever, to repay his goodness as I can, and to testify all imaginable\nrespect to his judgment, I have purposed to write my own APOLOGY to his\nlordship; and to represent to him, in a better manner, than I have done\nin this sudden and unpremeditated conversation, the reasons that have\ndetermined me to this resolution. I have even made some progress in the\ndesign, and have digested into several _essays_ the substance of such\nreflections as, at different times, have had most weight with me[54].\n\nHearing him speak in so determined a manner, I was discouraged from\npressing him further with such other considerations, as I had, prepared\non this argument. Only I could not help enforcing, in the warmest\nmanner, and in terms your lordship would not allow me to use in this\nrecital, what he himself had owned of your unexampled goodness to\nhim; and the obligation which, I insisted, that must needs create in\na generous mind, of paying an unreserved obedience to your lordship\u2019s\npleasure. He gave me the hearing very patiently; but contented himself\nwith repeating his design of justifying himself to your lordship in the\napology he had before promised.\n\nAnd now, resumed he with an air of alacrity, since you know my whole\nmind, and that no remonstrances can move me, confess the whole truth;\nacknowledge at last that you have dissembled with me all this while,\nand that, in reality, you approve my resolution. I know you do, my\nfriend, though you struggle hard to conceal it. It cannot be otherwise.\nNature, which linked our hearts together, had formed us in one mould.\nWe have the same sense of things; the same love of letters and of\nvirtue. And though I would not solicit one of your years and your\nprofession to follow me into the shade, yet I know you so well[55],\nthat you will preserve in the world that equal frame of mind, that\nindifference to all earthly things, which I pretend to have carried\nwith me into this solitude.\n\nGo on, my friend, in this track; and be an example to the churchmen of\nour days, that the highest honours of the gown, which I easily foresee\nare destined to your abilities, are not incompatible with the strictest\npurity of life, and the most heroic sentiments of integrity and honour.\nGo, and adorn the dignities which are reserved for you; and remember\nonly in the heights of prosperity to be what you are, to serve the\nworld with vigour, yet so as to indulge with me\n\n                      \u201cTHE GENEROUS SCORN\n    OF THINGS, FOR WHICH WE WERE NOT BORN[56].\u201d\n\nI began to be a little uneasy at his long sermon, when he broke it off\nwith this couplet. The day by this time was pretty far advanced; and\nrising from his seat, he proposed to me to walk into his hermitage (so\nhe called his house); where, he said, I should see how a philosopher\nlived as well as talked. I staid to dine, and spent a good part of\nthe afternoon with him. We discoursed of various matters; but not a\nword more of what had occasioned this visit. Only he shewed me the\n_complaining poem_ he had mentioned, and of which, for the pleasure so\nfine a composition will give you, I here send your lordship a copy.\nHis spirits, he said, were enlivened by the face of an old friend; and\nindeed I never knew his conversation more easy and chearful[57]; which\nyet I could not perfectly enjoy for the regret the ill success of my\nnegociation had given me.\n\nI returned to town in the evening, ruminating on what had passed, and\nresolving to send your lordship an exact account of our conversation.\nI particularly made a point of suppressing nothing which Mr. COWLEY\nhad to say for himself in this debate, however it may sometimes seem\nto make against me. The whole hath grown under my pen into a greater\nlength than I expected. But your Lordship wished to know the bottom of\nour friend\u2019s mind; and I thought you would see it more distinctly and\nclearly in this way, than in any other. I am, my lord, with the most\nprofound respect,\n\n  Your Lordship\u2019s most obedient\n\n  and faithful servant,\n\n  T. SPRAT.\n\n\n\n\n  THE\n\n  COMPLAINT[58].\n\n    In a deep vision\u2019s intellectual scene\n    Beneath a bower for sorrow made,\n        Th\u2019 uncomfortable shade\n        Of the black yew\u2019s unlucky green,\n    Mixt with the mourning willow\u2019s careful gray,\n    Where reverend CAM cuts out his famous way,\n    The melancholy COWLEY lay:\n      And lo! a Muse appear\u2019d to\u2019s closed sight,\n    (The Muses oft in lands of visions play)\n    Bodied, array\u2019d, and seen by an internal light:\n    A golden harp with silver strings she bore,\n    A wonderous hieroglyphic robe she wore,\n    In which all colours, and all figures were,\n    That nature, or that fancy can create,\n      That art can never imitate;\n    And with loose pride it wanton\u2019d in the air.\n    In such a dress, in such a well-cloath\u2019d dream,\n    She us\u2019d of old, near fair ISMENUS\u2019 stream,\n    PINDAR her THEBAN favourite to meet;\n    A crown was on her head, and wings were on her feet.\n\n\nII.\n\n    She touch\u2019d him with her harp, and rais\u2019d him from the ground;\n    The shaken strings melodiously resound.\n        Art thou return\u2019d at last, said she,\n        To this forsaken place and me?\n    Thou prodigal, who didst so loosely waste\n    Of all thy youthful years, the good estate?\n    Art thou return\u2019d here to repent too late;\n    And gather husks of learning up at last,\n    Now the rich harvest-time of life is past,\n        And _Winter_ marches on so fast?\n    But when I meant t\u2019adopt thee for my son,\n    And did as learn\u2019d a portion thee assign,\n    As ever any of the mighty Nine\n        Had to her dearest children done;\n    When I resolv\u2019d t\u2019exalt thy anointed name,\n    Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame[59];\n    Thou changeling, thou, bewitch\u2019d with noise and show,\n    Would\u2019st into courts and cities from me go;\n    Would\u2019st see the world abroad, and have a share\n    In all the follies, and the tumults there.\n    Thou would\u2019st, forsooth, be something in a state,\n    And business thou would\u2019st find, and would\u2019st create:\n        Business! the frivolous pretence\n    Of humane lusts to shake off innocence:\n        Business! the grave impertinence:\n    Business! the thing which I of all things hate:\n    Business! the contradiction of thy fate.\n\n\nIII.\n\n    Go, renegado, cast up thy account,\n        And see to what amount\n        Thy foolish gains by quitting me:\n    The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty,\n    The fruits of thy unlearn\u2019d apostasy.\n    Thou thought\u2019st, if once the public storm were past,\n    All thy remaining life should sun-shine be;\n    Behold, the public storm is spent at last,\n    The sovereign is tost at sea no more,\n    And thou, with all the noble company,\n        Art got at last to shore.\n    But whilst thy fellow voyagers, I see,\n    All march\u2019d up to possess the promis\u2019d land,\n    Thou still alone (alas!) dost gaping stand\n    Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand.\n\n\nIV.\n\n    As a fair morning of the blessed spring,\n        After a tedious stormy night;\n    Such was the glorious entry of our king:\n    Enriching moisture dropp\u2019d on every thing;\n    Plenty he sow\u2019d below, and cast about him light.\n        But then (alas!) to thee alone,\n    One of old GIDEON\u2019S miracles was shown;\n    For every tree, and every herb around,\n        With pearly dew was crown\u2019d,\n    And upon all the quicken\u2019d ground\n    The fruitful seed of heaven did brooding lye,\n    And nothing but the Muse\u2019s fleece was dry.\n        It did all other threats surpass\n    When God to his own people said,\n    (The men, whom thro\u2019 long wanderings he had led)\n        That he would give them ev\u2019n a heaven of brass;\n    They look\u2019d up to that heaven in vain,\n    That bounteous heaven, which God did not restrain,\n    Upon the most unjust to shine and rain.\n\n\nV.\n\n    The RACHAEL, for which twice seven years and more\n    Thou didst with faith and labour serve,\n    And didst (if faith and labour can) deserve,\n        Though she contracted was to thee,\n        Giv\u2019n to another who had store\n    Of fairer, and of richer wives before,\n    And not a _Leah_ left, thy recompence to be.\n    Go on, twice seven years more thy fortune try,\n    Twice seven years more, God in his bounty may\n        Give thee, to fling away\n    Into the court\u2019s deceitful lottery.\n        But think how likely \u2019tis that thou,\n    With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough,\n    Should\u2019st in a hard and barren season thrive,\n        Should even able be to live;\n    Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall,\n    In the miraculous year, when MANNA rain\u2019d on all.\n\n\nVI.\n\n    Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile,\n    That seem\u2019d at once to pity and revile,\n    And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head,\n        The melancholy COWLEY said:\n        Ah, wanton foe, dost thou upbraid\n    The ills which thou thyself hast made?\n    When, in the cradle, innocent I lay,\n    Thou, wicked spirit, stolest me away,\n        And my abused soul didst bear\n    Into thy new-found words I know not where,\n    Thy golden _Indies_ in the air;\n        And ever since I strive in vain\n    My ravish\u2019d freedom to regain:\n    Still I rebel, still thou dost reign,\n    Lo, still in verse against thee I complain.\n        There is a sort of stubborn weeds,\n    Which if the earth but once, it ever breeds;\n        No wholesome herb can near them thrive,\n        No useful plant can keep alive;\n    The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,\n    Make all my art and labour fruitless now;\n    Where once such Fairies dance no grass doth ever grow.\n\n\nVII.\n\n    When my new mind had no infusion known,\n    Thou gav\u2019st so deep a tincture of thine own,\n        That ever since I vainly try\n        To wash away the inherent dye:\n    Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite,\n    But never will reduce the native white;\n        To all the ports of honour and of gain,\n        I often steer my course in vain,\n    Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again.\n    Thou slack\u2019nest all my nerves of industry,\n        By making them so oft to be\n    The tinkling strings of thy loose minstrelsie.\n    Whoever this world\u2019s happiness would see,\n        Must as entirely cast off thee,\n        As they who only heaven desire,\n        Do from the world retire.\n    This was my error, this my gross mistake,\n    Myself a demy-votary to make.\n    Thus with SAPPHIRA, and her husband\u2019s fate,\n    (A fault which I like them am taught too late)\n    For all that I gave up, I nothing gain,\n    And perish for the part which I retain.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n    Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse,\n        The court, and better king, t\u2019 accuse;\n    The heaven under which I live is fair;\n    The fertile soil will a full harvest bear;\n    Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou\n    Mak\u2019st me sit still and sing, when I should plough;\n    When I but think, how many a tedious year\n        Our patient sov\u2019reign did attend\n        His long misfortunes fatal end;\n    How chearfully, and how exempt from fear,\n    On the Great Sovereign\u2019s will he did depend,\n    I ought to be accurst, if I refuse\n    To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!\n    Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be\n    So distant, they may reach at length to me.\n        However, of all princes, thou\n    Should\u2019st not reproach rewards for being small or slow;\n    Thou, who rewardest but with popular breath,\n        And that too after death.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE III.\n\n  ON THE\n\n  GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.\n\n  BETWEEN\n\n  THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY,\n\n  DR. ARBUTHNOT,\n\n  AND\n\n  MR. ADDISON.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE III.\n\n  ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.\n\n  MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.\n\n\nIt happened, in the summer of the year 1716, that Dr. ARBUTHNOT and Mr.\nADDISON had occasion to take a journey together into _Warwickshire_.\nMr. DIGBY, who had received intelligence of their motions, and was then\nat _Coleshill_, contrived to give them the meeting at _Warwick_; where\nthey intended to pass a day or two, in visiting the curiosities of\nthat fine town, and the more remarkable of these remains of antiquity\nthat are to be seen in its neighbourhood. These were matter of high\nentertainment to all of them; to Dr. ARBUTHNOT, for the pleasure of\nrecollecting the ancient times; to Mr. ADDISON, on account of some\npolitical reflexions, he was fond of indulging on such occasions; and\nto Mr. DIGBY, from an ingenuous curiosity, and the love of seeing and\nobserving whatever was most remarkable, whether in the past ages, or\nthe present.\n\nAmongst other things that amused them, they were much taken with the\ngreat church at _Warwick_. They entertained themselves with the several\nhistories, which it\u2019s many old monuments recalled to their memory[60].\nThe famous inscription of Sir FULK GREVIL occasioned some reflexions;\nespecially to Mr. DIGBY, who had used to be much affected with the\nfame and fortunes of the accomplished Sir PHILIP SIDNEY. The glory\nof the house of WARWICK was, also, an ample field of meditation. But\nwhat chanced to take their attention most, was the monument of the\ngreat earl of LEICESTER. It recorded his titles at full length, and\nwas, besides, richly decorated with sculpture, displaying the various\nensigns and trophies of his greatness. The pride of this minister had\nnever appeared to them so conspicuous, as in the legends and ornaments\nof his tomb-stone; which had not only outlived his family, but seemed\nto assure itself of immortality, by taking refuge, as it were, at the\nfoot of the altar.\n\nThese funeral honours engaged them in some common reflexions on the\nfolly of such expedients to perpetuate human grandeur; but at the same\ntime, as is the usual effect of these things, struck their imaginations\nvery strongly. They readily apprehended what must have been the state\nof this mighty favourite in his lifetime, from what they saw of it in\nthis proud memorial, which continued in a manner to insult posterity\nso many years after his death. But understanding that the fragments at\nleast of his supreme glory, when it was flourishing at its height, were\nstill to be seen at KENELWORTH, which they knew could be at no great\ndistance, they resolved to visit them the next day, and indulge to the\nutmost the several reflexions which such scenes are apt to inspire.\nOn enquiry, they found it was not more than five or six miles to the\ncastle; so that, by starting early in the morning, they might easily\nreturn to dinner at _Warwick_. They kept to their appointment so well,\nthat they got to _Kenelworth_ in good time, and had even two or three\nhours on their hands to spend, in taking an exact view of the place.\n\nIt was luckily one of those fine days, which our travellers would most\nhave wished for, and which indeed are most agreeable in this season. It\nwas clear enough to afford a distinct prospect of the country, and to\nset the objects, they wanted to take a view of, in a good light; and\nyet was so conveniently clouded as to check the heat of the sun, and\nmake the exercise of walking, of which they were likely to have a good\ndeal, perfectly easy to them.\n\nWhen they alighted from the coach, the first object that presented\nitself was the principal GATE-WAY of the Castle. It had been converted\ninto a farm-house, and was indeed the only part of these vast ruins\nthat was inhabited. On their entrance into the _inner-court_, they were\nstruck with the sight of many mouldering towers, which preserved a\nsort of magnificence even in their ruins. They amused themselves with\nobserving the vast compass of the whole, with marking the uses, and\ntracing the dimensions, of the several parts. All which it was easy\nfor them to do, by the very distinct traces that remained of them, and\nespecially by means of DUGDALE\u2019S plans and descriptions, which they\nhad taken care to consult.\n\nAfter rambling about for some time, they clambered up a heap of ruins,\nwhich lay on the west side the court: and thence came to a broken\ntower, which, when they had mounted some steps, led them out into a\npath-way on the tops of the walls. From this eminence they had a very\ndistinct view of the several parts they had before contemplated; of the\n_gardens_ on the north-side; of the _winding meadow_ that encompassed\nthe walls of the castle, on the west and south; and had, besides, the\ncommand of the country round about them for many miles. The prospect of\nso many antique towers falling into rubbish, contrasted to the various\nbeauties of the landscape, struck them with admiration, and kept them\nsilent for some time.\n\nAt length recovering himself, I perceive, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, we are\nall of us not a little affected with the sight of these ruins. They\neven create a melancholy in me; and yet a melancholy of so delightful\na kind, that I would not exchange it, methinks, for any brisker\nsensation. The experience of this effect hath often led me to enquire,\nhow it is that the mind, even while it laments, finds so great a\npleasure in visiting these scenes of desolation. Is it, continued he,\nfrom the pure love of antiquity, and the amusing train of reflexions\ninto which such remains of ancient magnificence naturally lead us?\n\nI know not, returned Mr. ADDISON, what pain it may give you to\ncontemplate these triumphs of time and fortune. For my part, I am\nnot sensible of the mixt sensation you speak of. I feel a pleasure\nindeed; but it is sincere, and, as I conceive, may be easily accounted\nfor. \u2019Tis nothing more, I believe, than a fiction of the imagination,\nwhich makes me think I am taking a revenge on the once prosperous and\novershadowing height, PR\u00c6UMBRANS FASTIGIUM, as somebody expresses it,\nof inordinate Greatness. It is certain, continued he, this theatre of a\ngreat statesman\u2019s pride, the delight of many of our princes, and which\nboasts of having given entertainment to one of them in a manner so\nsplendid, as to claim a remembrance, even in the annals of our country,\nwould now, in its present state, administer ample matter for much\ninsulting reflexion.\n\n\u201cWhere, one might ask, are the tilts and tournaments, the princely\nshows and sports, which were once so proudly celebrated within these\nwalls? Where are the pageants, the studied devices and emblems of\ncurious invention, that set the court at a gaze, and even transported\nthe high soul of our ELIZABETH? Where now, pursued he, (pointing to\nthat which was formerly a canal, but at present is only a meadow with\na small rivulet running through it) where is the floating island, the\nblaze of torches that eclipsed the day, the lady of the lake, the\nsilken nymphs her attendants, with all the other fantastic exhibitions\nsurpassing even the whimsies of the wildest romance? What now is become\nof the revelry of feasting? of the minstrelsy, that took the ear so\ndelightfully as it babbled along the valley, or floated on the surface\nof this lake? See there the smokeless kitchens, stretching to a length\nthat might give room for the sacrifice of a hecatomb; the vaulted\nhall, which mirth and jollity have set so often in an uproar; the\nrooms of state, and the presence-chamber: what are they now but void\nand tenantless ruins, clasped with ivy, open to wind and weather, and\nrepresenting to the eye nothing but the ribs and carcase, as it were,\nof their former state? And see, said he, that proud gate-way, once the\nmansion of a surly porter[61], who, partaking of the pride of his\nlord, made the crowds wait, and refused admittance, perhaps, to nobles\nwhom fear or interest drew to these walls, to pay their homage to their\nmaster: see it now the residence of a poor tenant, who turns the key\nbut to let himself out to his daily labour, to admit him to a short\nmeal, and secure his nightly slumbers. Yet, in this humble state, it\nhath had the fortune to outlive the glory of the rest, and hath even\ndrawn to itself the whole of that little note and credit which time\nhath continued to this once pompous building. For, while the castle\nitself is crumbled into shapeless ruins, and is prophaned, as we there\nsee, by the vilest uses, this outwork of greatness is left entire,\nsheltered and closed in from bird and beast, and even affords some\ndecent room in which the _human face divine_ is not ashamed to shew\nitself.\u201d\n\nWhile Mr. ADDISON went on in this vein, his two friends stood looking\non each other; as not conceiving what might be the cause of his\nexpressing himself with a vehemence, so uncommon, and not suited to his\nnatural temper. When the fit was over, I confess, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT,\nthis is no bad topic for a moralist to declaim upon. And, though it\nbe a trite one, we know how capable it is of being adorned by him\nwho, on a late occasion, could meditate so finely on the TOMBS AT\nWESTMINSTER[62]. But surely, proceeded he, you warm yourself in this\ncontemplation, beyond what the subject requires of you. The vanity\nof human greatness is seen in so many instances, that I wonder to\nhear you harangue on this with so peculiar an exultation. There is\nno travelling ten miles together in any part of the kingdom without\nstumbling on some ruin, which, though perhaps not so considerable\nas this before us, would furnish occasion, however, for the same\nreflexions. There would be no end of moralizing over every broken\ntower, or shattered fabric, which calls to mind the short-lived glories\nof our ancestors.\n\nTrue, said Mr. ADDISON; and, if the short continuance of these\nglories were the only circumstance, I might well have spared the\nexultation, you speak of, in this triumph over the shattered remnants\nof _Kenelworth_. But there is something else that fires me on the\noccasion. It brings to mind the fraud, the rapine, the insolence, of\nthe potent minister, who vainly thought to immortalize his ill-gotten\nglory by this proud monument. Nay, further, it awakens an indignation\nagainst the prosperous tyranny of those wretched times, and creates\na generous pleasure in reflecting on the happiness we enjoy under a\njuster and more equal government. Believe me, I never see the remains\nof that greatness which arose in the past ages on the ruins of public\nfreedom and private property, but I congratulate with myself on living\nat a time, when the meanest subject is as free and independent as\nthose royal minions; and when his property, whatever it be, is as\nsecure from oppression, as that of the first minister. And I own\nthis congratulation is not the less sincere for considering that the\ninstance before us is taken from the reign of the virgin queen, which\nit hath been the fashion to cry up above that of any other of our\nprinces[63]. I desire no other confutation of so strange unthankful\na preference, than the sight of this vast castle, together with the\nrecollection of those means by which its master arrived at his enormous\ngreatness.\n\nYour indignation then, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, is not so much of the\nmoral, as _political_ kind[64]. But is not the conclusion a little too\nhasty, when, from the instance of one overgrown favourite, you infer\nthe general infelicity of the time, in which he flourished? I am not,\nI assure you, one of those unthankful men who forget the blessings\nthey enjoy under a prince of more justice and moderation than queen\nELIZABETH, and under a better constitution of government than prevailed\nin the days of our forefathers. Yet, setting aside some particular\ndishonours of that reign (of which, let the tyranny of _Leicester_,\nif you will, be one), I see not but the acknowledged virtues of that\nprincess, and the wisdom of her government, may be a proper foundation\nfor all the honours that posterity have ever paid to her.\n\nWere I even disposed to agree with you, returned Mr. ADDISON, I should\nnot have the less reason for triumphing, as I do, on the present state\nof our government. For, if such abuses could creep in, and be suffered\nfor so many years under so great a princess, what was there not to fear\n(as what, indeed, did not the subject actually feel) under some of her\nsuccessors? But, to speak my mind frankly, I see no sufficient grounds\nfor the excessive prejudice, that hath somehow taken place, in favour\nof the GOLDEN REIGN, as it is called, OF ELIZABETH. I find neither the\nwisdom, nor the virtue in it, that can entitle it to a preference\nbefore all other ages.\n\nOn the contrary, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I never contemplate the monuments\nof that time, without a silent admiration of the virtues that adorned\nit. Heroes and sages crowd in upon my memory. Nay, the very people were\nof a character above what we are acquainted with in our days. I could\nalmost fancy, the soil itself were another face, and, as you poets\nimagine on some occasions, that our ancestors lived under a brighter\nsun and happier climate than we can boast of.\n\nTo be sure! said Mr. ADDISON, smiling: or, why not affirm, in the\nproper language of romance, that the women of those days were all\nchaste, and the men valiant? But cannot you suspect at least that\nthere is some enchantment in the case, and that your love of antiquity\nmay possibly operate in more instances than those of your favourite\n_Greeks_ and _Romans_? Tell me honestly, pursued he, hath not this\ndistance of a century and a half a little imposed upon you? Do not\nthese broken towers, which moved you just now to so compassionate a\nlamentation over them, dispose you to a greater fondness for the times\nin which they arose, than can be fairly justified?\n\nI will not deny, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but we are often very generous\nto the past times, and unjust enough to the present. But I think there\nis little of this illusion in the case before us. And, since you call\nmy attention to these noble ruins, let me own to you, that they do\nindeed excite in me a veneration for the times of which they present\nso striking a memorial. But surely not without reason. For there is\nscarce an object in view, that doth not revive the memory of some\ndistinguishing character of that age, which may justify such veneration.\n\nAlas! interrupted Mr. ADDISON, and what can these objects call to mind\nbut the memory of barbarous manners and a despotic government?\n\nFor the _government_, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I do not well conceive how\nany conclusion about that can be drawn from this fabric. The MANNERS I\nwas thinking of; and I see them strongly expressed in many parts of it.\nBut whether barbarous or not, I could almost take upon me to dispute\nwith you. And why, indeed, since you allowed yourself to declaim on\nthe vices, so apparent, as you suppose, in this monument of antiquity,\nmay not I have leave to consider it in another point of view, and\npresent to you the virtues which, to my eye at least, are full as\ndiscernible?\n\nYou cannot, continued he, turn your eyes on any part of these ruins,\nwithout encountering some memorial of the virtue, industry, or\ningenuity, of our ancestors.\n\nLook there, said he, on that fine room (pointing to the HALL, that\nlay just beneath them); and tell me if you can help respecting the\nHOSPITALITY which so much distinguished the palaces of the great in\nthose simpler ages. You gave an invidious turn to this circumstance\nwhen you chose to consider it only in the light of wasteful expence\nand prodigality. But no virtue is privileged from an ill name. And, on\nsecond thoughts, I persuade myself, it will appear you have injured\nthis, by so uncandid an appellation. Can it deserve this censure,\nthat the lord of this princely castle threw open his doors and spread\nhis table for the reception of his friends, his followers, and even\nfor the royal entertainment of his sovereign? Is any expence more\nproper than that which tends to conciliate[65] friendships, spread\nthe interests of society, and knit mankind together by a generous\ncommunication in these advantages of wealth and fortune? The arts of\na refined sequestered luxury were then unknown. The same bell, that\ncalled the great man to his table, invited the neighbourhood all\naround, and proclaimed a holiday to the whole country[66]. Who does not\nfeel the decorum, and understand the benefits of this magnificence? The\npre-eminence of rank and fortune was nobly sustained: the subordination\nof society preserved: and yet the envy, that is so apt to attend the\ngreat, happily avoided. Hence this weight and influence of the old\nnobility, who engaged the love, as well as commanded the veneration, of\nthe people. In the mean time, rural industry flourished: private luxury\nwas discouraged: and in both ways that frugal simplicity of life, our\ncountry\u2019s grace and ornament in those days, was preserved and promoted.\n\nIt would spoil your panegyric, I doubt, said Mr. ADDISON, to observe\nthe factious use, that was made of this magnificence, and the tendency\nit had to support the pride and insolence of the old nobility. The\ninterest of the great, I am afraid, was but another name for the\nslavery of the people[67].\n\nI see it, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, in a different light; and so did our\nprinces themselves, who could not but be well acquainted with the\nproper effects of that interest. They considered the weight of the\nnobility, as a counterpoise to their own sovereignty. It was on this\naccount they had used all means to lessen their influence. But the\nconsequence was beside their expectation. The authority of the crown\nfell with it: and, which was still less expected by political men, the\nliberty of the people, after it had wantoned for a time, sunk under the\ngeneral oppression. It was then discovered, but a little of the latest,\nthat public freedom throve best, when it wound itself about the stock\nof the ancient nobility. In truth, it was the defect, not the excess,\nof patrician influence, that made way for the miseries of the next\ncentury.\n\nYou see then it is not without cause that I lay a stress, even in a\npolitical view, on this popular hospitality of the great in the former\nages[68].\n\nBut, lest you think I sit too long at the table, let us go on to the\nTILTYARD, which lies just before us; that school of fortitude and\nhonour to our generous forefathers. A younger fancy, than mine, would\nbe apt to kindle at the sight. And our sprightlier friend here, I\ndare say, has already taken fire at the remembrance of the gallant\nexercises, which were celebrated in that quarter.\n\nMr. DIGBY owned, he had a secret veneration for the manly games of that\ntime, which he had seen so triumphantly set forth in the old poets and\nromancers.\n\nRight, said Mr. ADDISON; it is precisely in that circumstance that the\nenchantment consists. Some of our best wits have taken a deal of idle\npains to ennoble a very barbarous entertainment, and recommend it to\nus under the specious name of gallantry and honour. But Mr. DIGBY sees\nthrough the cheat. Not that I doubt, continued he, but the Doctor,\nnow he is in the vein of panegyric, will lay a mighty stress on these\nbarbarities; and perhaps compare them with the exercises in the _Roman_\nCircus, or the _Olympic_ Barriers.\n\nAnd why not? interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT. The tendency of all three was\nthe same; to invigorate the faculties both of mind and body; to give\nstrength, grace, and dexterity, to the limbs; and fire the mind with a\ngenerous emulation of the manly and martial virtues.\n\nWhy truly, said Mr. ADDISON, I shall not deny that all _three_, as you\nobserve, were much of the same merit. And, now your hand is in for this\nsort of encomium, do not forget to celebrate the sublime taste of our\nforefathers for _bear-baiting_[69], as well as _tilting_; and tell us\ntoo, how gloriously the mob of those days, as well as their betters,\nused to belabour one another.\n\nI confess, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, the softness of our manners makes it\ndifficult to speak on this subject without incurring the ridicule,\nyou appear so willing to employ against me. But you must not think\nto discredit these gymnastics by a little raillery, which has its\nfoundation only in modern prejudices. For it is no secret that the\ngravest and politest men of antiquity were of my mind. You will hardly\nsuspect PLATO of incivility, either in his notions or manners. And\nneed I remind you how much he insists on the gymnastic discipline;\nwithout which he could not have formed, or at least have supported, his\nRepublic?\n\nIt was upon this principle, I suppose then, said Mr. DIGBY, or perhaps\nin imitation of his _Gr\u00e6cian_ master, that our MILTON laid so great a\nstress on this discipline in his TRACTATE OF EDUCATION. And before him,\nin the very time you speak of, ASCHAM, I observe, took no small pains\nto much the same purpose in his TOXOPHILUS.\n\nIt is very clear, resumed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, from these instances, and many\nmore that might be given, that the ancients were not singular in their\nnotions on this subject. But, since you have drawn me into a grave\ndefence of these exercises, let me further own to you that I think the\n_Gothic_ Tilts and Tournaments exceeded, both in use and elegance, even\nthe _Gr\u00e6cian_ gymnastics[70]. They were a more direct image of war,\nthan any of the games at _Olympia_. And if _Xenophon_ could be so\nlavish in his praises on the _Persian_ practice of hunting, because it\nhad some resemblance to the exercise of arms, what would he not have\nsaid of an institution, which has all the forms of a real combat?\n\nBut there was an elegance, too, in the conduct of the tournament, that\nmight reconcile it even to modern delicacy. For, besides the splendor\nof the shew; the dexterity, with which these exercises were performed;\nand the fancy, that appeared in their accoutrement, dresses, and\ndevices; the whole contest was ennobled with an air of gallantry, that\nmust have had a great effect in refining the manners of the combatants.\nAnd yet this gallantry had no ill influence on morals; for, as you\ninsulted me just now, it was the odd humour of those days for the women\nto pride themselves in their chastity[71], as well as the men in their\nvalour.\n\nIn short, I consider the _Tournay_, as the best school of civility\nas well as heroism. \u201cHigh-erected thoughts, seated in a heart of\ncourtesy,\u201d as an old writer[72] well expresses it, was the proper\ncharacter of such as had been trained in this discipline.\n\nNo wonder then, pursued he, the poets and romance-writers took so much\npains to immortalize these trials of manhood. It was but what PINDAR\nand HOMER himself, those ancient masters of romance, had done before\nthem. And how could it be otherwise? The shew itself, as I said,\nhad something very taking in it; whilst every graceful attitude of\nperson, with every generous movement of the mind, afforded the finest\nmaterials for description. And I am even ready to believe, that\nwhat we hear censured in their writings, as false, incredible, and\nfantastic, was frequently but a just copy of life, and that there was\nmore of truth and reality[73] in their representations, than we are\napt to imagine. Their notions of honour and gallantry were carried to\nan elevation[74], which, in these degenerate days, hurts the credit\nof their story; just as I have met with men that have doubted whether\nthe virtues of the REGULI and the SCIPIOS of ancient fame were not the\noffspring of pure fancy.\n\nNay now, Dr. ARBUTHNOT, said Mr. ADDISON, you grow quite extravagant.\nWhat you, who are used to be so quick at espying all abuses in science,\nand defects in good taste, turn advocate for these fopperies! Mr. DIGBY\nand I shall begin to think you banter us, in this apology for the\nancient gymnastics, and are only preparing a chapter for the facetious\nmemoirs[75], you sometimes promise us.\n\nNever more in earnest, assure you, replied the Doctor. I know what you\nhave to object to these pictures of life and manners. But, if they\nwill not bear examining as copies, they may deserve to be imitated as\nmodels. And their use, methinks, might atone for some defects in the\narticle of probability.\n\nFor my part, I consider the legends of ancient chivalry in a very\nserious light,\n\n    As _niches_, fill\u2019d with statues to invite\n    Young valours forth\u2014[76]\n\nas BEN JONSON, a valorous hardy poet, and who, himself, would have made\na good knight-errant, justly says of them. For, it is certain, they had\nthis effect. The youth, in general, were fired with the love of martial\nexercises. They were early formed to habits of fatigue and enterprise.\nAnd, together with this warlike spirit, the profession of chivalry was\nfavourable to every other virtue. Affability, courtesy, generosity,\nveracity, these were the qualifications most pretended to by the men of\narms, in the days of pure and uncorrupted chivalry. We do not perhaps,\nourselves, know, at this distance of time, how much we are indebted to\nthe force of this singular institution. But this I may presume to say,\nthat the men, among whom it arose and flourished most, had prodigious\nobligations to it. No policy, even of an ancient legislator, could\nhave contrived a better expedient to cultivate the manners and tame\nthe spirits of a rude and ignorant people. I could almost fancy it\nprovidentially introduced among the northern nations, to break the\nfierceness of their natures, and prevent that brutal savageness and\nferocity of character, which must otherwise have grown upon them in the\ndarker ages.\n\nNay, the generous sentiments, it inspired, perhaps contributed very\nmuch to awaken an emulation of a different kind; and to bring on\nthose days of light and knowledge which have disposed us, somewhat\nunthankfully, to vilify and defame it. This is certain, that the first\nessays of wit and poetry, those harbingers of returning day to every\nspecies of good letters, were made in the bosom of chivalry, and amidst\nthe assemblies of noble dames, and courteous knights. And we may even\nobserve, that the best of our modern princes, such as have been most\nadmired for their personal virtues, and have been most concerned\nin restoring all the arts of civility and politeness, have been\npassionately addicted to the feats of ancient prowess. In the number\nof these, need I remind you of the courts of FRANCIS I, and HENRY IV,\nto say nothing of our own EDWARDS and HENRYS, and that mirrour of all\ntheir virtues in one, our renowned and almost romantic ELIZABETH[77]?\n\nBut you think I push the argument too far. And less than this may\ndispose you to conceive with reverence of the scene before us, which\nmust ever be regarded as a nursery of brave men, a very seed-plot\nof warriors and heroes. I consider the successes at the barriers as\npreludes to future conquests in the field. And, as whimsical a figure\nas a young tilter may make in your eye, who will say that the virtue\nwas not formed here, that triumphed at AXELL, and bled at ZUTPHEN?\n\nWe shall very readily, replied Mr. ADDISON, acknowledge the bravery\nand other virtues of the young hero, whose fortunes you hint at. He\nwas, in truth, to speak the language of that time, the very flower of\nknighthood, and contributed more than any body else, by his pen, as\nwell as sword, to throw a lustre on the profession of chivalry. But\nthe thing itself, however adorned by his wit and recommended by his\nmanners, was barbarous; the offspring of _Gothic_ fierceness; and shews\nthe times, which favoured it so much, to have scarcely emerged from\ntheir original rudeness and brutality. You may celebrate, as loudly\nas you please, the deeds of these wonder-working knights. Alas, what\naffinity have such prodigies to our life, and manners? The old poet,\nyou quoted just now with approbation, shall tell us the difference:\n\n    These were bold stories of our _Arthur\u2019s_ age:\n    But here are other acts, another stage\n    And scene appears; it is not since as then;\n    No giants, dwarfs, or monsters here, but MEN[78].\n\nOr, if you want a higher authority, we should not, methinks, on such an\noccasion, forget the admirable CERVANTES, whose ridicule hath brought\neternal dishonour on the profession of knight-errantry.\n\nWith your leave, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I have reason to except\nagainst both your authorities. At best, they do but condemn the\n_abuses_ of chivalry, and the madness of continuing the old romantic\nspirit in times when, from a change of manners and policy, it was no\nlonger in season. Adventures, we will say, were of course to cease,\nwhen giants and monsters disappeared. And yet have they totally\ndisappeared, and have giants and monsters been no where heard of out\nof the castles and forests of our old romancers. \u2019Tis odds, methinks,\nbut, in the sense of ELIZABETH\u2019S good subjects, PHILIP II. might be a\n_giant_ at least: and, without a little of this adventurous spirit,\nit may be a question whether all her enchanters, I mean her BURLEIGHS\nand WALSINGHAMS, would have proved a match for him. I mention this the\nrather to shew you, how little obligation his countrymen have to your\nCERVANTES for laughing away the remains of that prowess, which was the\nbest support of the _Spanish_ monarchy.\n\nAs if, said Mr. ADDISON, the prowess of any people were only to be kept\nalive by their running mad. But let the case of the _Spaniards_ be what\nit will, surely we, of this country, have little obligation to the\nspirit of chivalry, if it were only that it produced, or encouraged\nat least, and hath now entailed upon us, the curse of duelling; which\neven yet domineers in the fashionable world, in spite of all that\nwit, and reason, and religion itself, have done to subdue it. \u2019Tis\ntrue, at present this law of arms is appealed to only in the case some\nhigh point of nice and mysterious honour. But in the happier days you\ncelebrate, it was called in aid, on common occasions. Even questions of\nright and property, you know, were determined at the barriers[79]: and\nbrute force was allowed the most equitable, as well as shortest, way of\ndeciding all disputes both concerning a man\u2019s estate and honour.\n\nYou might observe too, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that this was the way\nin which those fiercer disputes concerning a mistress, or a kingdom,\nwere frequently decided. And, if this sort of decision, in such cases,\nwere still in use among Christian princes, you might call it perhaps\na barbarous custom: but would it be ever the worse, do you think, for\ntheir good subjects?\n\nPerhaps it would not, returned Mr. ADDISON, in some instances. And\nyet will you affirm, that those _good subjects_ were in any enviable\nsituation, under their fighting masters? After all, allowing you to put\nthe best construction you can on these usages of our forefathers,\n\n                          \u201call we find\n    Is, that they did their work and din\u2019d.\u201d\n\nAnd though such feats may argue a sound athletic constitution, you must\nexcuse me, if I am not forward to entertain any high notions of their\ncivility.\n\nTheir civility, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, is another consideration. The HALL\nand TILT-YARD are certainly good proofs of what they are alleged for,\nthe hospitality and bravery of our ancestors. But it hath not been\nmaintained, that these were their only virtues. On the contrary, it\nseems to me, that every flower of humanity, every elegance of art and\ngenius, was cultivated amongst them. For an instance, need we look any\nfurther than the LAKE, which in the flourishing times of this castle\nwas so famous, and which we even now trace in the winding bed of that\nfine meadow?\n\nI do not understand you, replied Mr. ADDISON. I can easily imagine what\nan embellishment that lake must have been to the castle; but am at a\nloss to conceive what flowers of wit and ingenuity, to use your own\n\u00e6nigmatical language, could be raised or so much as watered by it.\n\nAnd, have you then, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, so soon forgotten the large\ndescription, you gave us just now, of the shows and pageants displayed\non this lake? And can any thing better declare the art, invention, and\ningenuity, of their conductors? Is not this canal as good a memorial of\nthe ardour and success with which the finer exercises of the mind were\npursued in that time, as the tilt-yard, we have now left, is of the\naddress and dexterity shewn in those of the body?\n\nI remember, said Mr. ADDISON, that many of the shows, intended for the\nqueen\u2019s entertainment at this place, were exhibited on that canal. But\nas to any art or beauty of contrivance\u2014\n\n\u201cYou see none, I suppose.\u201d\n\nWhy truly none, resumed Mr. ADDISON. To me they seemed but well enough\nsuited to the other barbarities of the time. \u201cThe Lady of the Lake and\nher train of Nereids,\u201d was not that the principal? And can it pass for\nany thing better than a jumble of _Gothic_ romance and pagan fable?\na barbarous modern conceit, varnished over with a little classical\npedantry?\n\nAnd is that the best word you can afford, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to\nthese ingenious devices? The business was, to welcome the Queen\nto this palace, and at the same time to celebrate the honours of\nher government. And what more decent way of complimenting a great\nPrince, than through the veil of fiction? or what so elegant way of\nentertaining a learned Prince, as by working up that fiction out of the\nold poetical story? And if something of the _Gothic_ romance adhered\nto these classical fictions, it was not for any barbarous pleasure,\nthat was taken in this patchwork, but that the artist found means to\nincorporate them with the highest grace and ingenuity. For what, in\nother words, was the _Lady of the Lake_ (the particular that gives\nmost offence to your delicacy), but the presiding nymph of the stream,\non which these shews were presented? And, if the contrivance was to\ngive us this nymph under a name that romance had made familiar, what\nwas this but taking advantage of a popular prejudice to introduce his\nfiction with more address and probability?\n\nBut see the propriety of the scene itself, for the designer\u2019s purpose,\nand the exact decorum with which these fanciful personages were brought\nin upon it. It was not enough, that the pagan deities were summoned to\npay their homage to the queen. They were the deities of the fount and\nocean, the watery nymphs and demi-gods: and these were to play their\npart in their own element. Could any preparation be more artful for\nthe panegyric designed on the naval glory of that reign? Or, could any\nrepresentation be more grateful to the queen of the ocean, as ELIZABETH\nwas then called, than such as expressed her sovereignty in those\nregions? Hence the sea-green Nereids, the Tritons, and Neptune himself,\nwere the proper actors in the drama. And the opportunity of this\nspacious lake gave the easiest introduction and most natural appearance\nto the whole scenery. Let me add too, in further commendation of the\ntaste which was shewn in these agreeable fancies, that the attributes\nand dresses of the deities themselves were studied with care; and the\nmost learned poets of the time employed to make them speak and act in\ncharacter. So that an old _Greek_ or _Roman_ might have applauded the\ncontrivance, and have almost fancied himself assisting at a religious\nceremony in his own country.\n\nAnd, to shew you that all this propriety was intended by the designer\nhimself, and not imagined at pleasure by his encomiast; I remember,\nthat when, some years after, the earl of HERTFORD had the honour to\nreceive the queen at his seat in _Hampshire_, because he had no such\ncanal as this in readiness on the occasion, he set on a vast number of\nhands to hollow a bason in his park for that purpose. With so great\ndiligence and so exact a decorum were these entertainments conducted!\n\nDid not I tell you, interposed Mr. ADDISON, addressing himself to Mr.\nDIGBY, to what an extravagance the Doctor\u2019s admiration of the ancient\ntimes would carry him? Could you have expected all this harangue\non the art, elegance, and decorum of THE PRINCELY PLEASURES OF\nKENELWORTH[80]? And must not it divert you to see the unformed genius\nof that age tricked out in the graces of _Roman_ or even _Attic_\npoliteness?\n\nMr. DIGBY acknowledged, it was very generous in the Doctor to represent\nin so fair a light the amusements of the ruder ages. But I was\nthinking, said he, to what cause it could possibly be owing, that these\npagan fancies had acquired so general a consideration in the days of\nELIZABETH.\n\nThe general passion for these fancies, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, was a\nnatural consequence of the revival of learning. The first books, that\ncame into vogue, were the poets. And nothing could be more amusing to\nrude minds, just opening to a taste of letters, than the fabulous story\nof the pagan gods, which is constantly interwoven in every piece of\nancient poetry. Hence the imitative arts of _sculpture_, _painting_,\nand _poetry_, were immediately employed in these pagan exhibitions. But\nthis was not all. The first artists in every kind were of _Italy_; and\nit was but natural for them to act these fables over again on the very\nspot that had first produced them. These too were the masters to the\nrest of _Europe_. So that _fashion_ concurred with the other prejudices\nof the time, to recommend this practice to the learned.\n\nFrom the men of art and literature the enthusiasm spread itself to\nthe great; whose supreme delight it was to see the wonders of the\nold poetical story brought forth, and realized, as it were, before\nthem[81]. And what, in truth, could they do better? For, if I were not\na little afraid of your raillery, I should desire to know what courtly\namusements even of our time are comparable to the shows and masques,\nwhich were the delight and improvement of the court of ELIZABETH.\nI say, the _improvement_; for, besides that these shows were not\nin the number of the INERUDIT\u00c6 VOLUPTATES, so justly characterized\nand condemned by a wise ancient, they were even highly useful and\ninstructive. These devices, composed out of the poetical history, were\nnot only the vehicles of compliment to the great on certain solemn\noccasions, but of the soundest moral lessons, which were artfully\nthrown in, and recommended to them by the charm of poetry and numbers.\nNay, some of these masques were moral dramas in form, where the virtues\nand vices were impersonated. We know the cast of their composition by\nwhat we see of these fictions in the next reign; and have reason to\nconceive of them with reverence when we find the names of FLETCHER and\nJONSON[82] to some of them. I say nothing of JONES and LAWES, though\nall the elegance of their respective arts was called in to assist the\npoet in the contrivance and execution of these entertainments.\n\nAnd, now the poets have fallen in my way, let me further observe,\nthat the manifest superiority of this class of writers in ELIZABETH\u2019S\nreign, and that of her successor, over all others who have succeeded to\nthem, is, among other reasons, to be ascribed to the taste which then\nprevailed for these moral representations. This taught them to animate\nand impersonate every thing. Rude minds, you will say, naturally give\ninto this practice. Without doubt. But art and genius do not disdain to\ncultivate and improve it. Hence it is, that we find in the phraseology\nand mode of thinking of that time, and of that time only, the essence\nof the truest and sublimest poetry.\n\nWithout doubt, Mr. ADDISON said, the poetry of that time is of a better\ntaste than could well have been expected from its barbarism in other\ninstances. But such prodigies as SHAKESPEAR and SPENSER would do great\nthings in any age, and under every disadvantage.\n\nMost certainly they would, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but not the things\nthat you admire so much in these immortal writers. And, if you will\nexcuse the intermixture of a little philosophy in these ramblings, I\nwill attempt to account for it.\n\nThere is, I think, in the revolutions of taste and language, a certain\npoint, which is more favourable to the purposes of poetry, than any\nother. It may be difficult to fix this point with exactness. But we\nshall hardly mistake in supposing it lies somewhere between the rude\nessays of uncorrected fancy, on the one hand, and the refinements of\nreason and science, on the other.\n\nAnd such appears to have been the condition of our language in the\nage of ELIZABETH. It was pure, strong, and perspicuous, without\naffectation. At the same time, the high figurative manner, which fits\na language so peculiarly for the uses of the poet, had not yet been\ncontrolled by the prosaic genius of philosophy and logic. Indeed, this\ncharacter had been struck so deeply into the _English_ tongue, that\nit was not to be removed by any ordinary improvements in either: the\nreason of which might be, the delight which was taken by the _English_\nvery early in their old MYSTERIES and MORALITIES; and the continuance\nof the same spirit in succeeding times, by means of their MASQUES and\nTRIUMPHS. And something like this, I observe, attended the progress of\nthe _Greek_ and _Roman_ poetry; which was the _truest_ poetry, on the\nclown\u2019s maxim in SHAKESPEAR, because it was _the most feigning_[83]. It\nhad its rise, you know, like ours, from religion: and pagan religion,\nof all others, was the properest to introduce and encourage a spirit of\nallegory and moral fiction. Hence we easily account for the allegoric\ncast of their old dramas, which have a great resemblance to our ancient\nmoralities. NECESSITY is brought in as a _person of the drama_, in one\nof \u00c6SCHYLUS\u2019S plays; and DEATH in one of EURIPIDES: to say nothing\nof many shadowy persons in the comedies of ARISTOPHANES. The truth\nis, the pagan religion _deified_ every thing, and delivered these\ndeities into the hand of their painters, sculptors, and poets. In like\nmanner, Christian superstition, or, if you will, modern barbarism,\n_impersonated_ every thing; and these persons, in proper form,\nsubsisted for some time on the stage, and almost to our days, in the\nmasques. Hence the picturesque style of our old poetry; which looks so\nfanciful in SPENSER, and which SHAKESPEAR\u2019S genius hath carried to the\nutmost sublimity.\n\nI will not deny, said Mr. ADDISON, but there may be something in this\ndeduction of the causes, by which you account for the strength and\ngrandeur of the _English_ poetry, unpolished as it still was in the\nhands of ELIZABETH\u2019S great poets. But for the masques themselves\u2014\n\nYou forget, I believe, _one_, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, which does\nyour favourite poet, MILTON, almost as much honour, as his _Paradise\nLost_.\u2014But I have no mind to engage in a further vindication of\nthese fancies. I only conclude that the taste of the age, the state\nof letters, the genius of the _English_ tongue, was such as gave a\nmanliness to their compositions of all sorts, and even an elegance to\nthose of the lighter forms, which we might do well to emulate, and not\nderide, in this \u00e6ra of politeness.\n\nBut I am aware, as you say, I have been transported too far. My design\nwas only to hint to you, in opposition to your invective against the\nmemory of the old times, awakened in us by the sight of this castle,\nthat what you object to is capable of a much fairer interpretation.\nYou have a proof of it, in two or three instances; in their festivals,\ntheir exercises, and their poetical fictions: or, to express myself in\nthe classical forms, you have seen by this view of their CONVIVIAL,\nGYMNASTIC, and MUSICAL character, that the times of ELIZABETH may pass\nfor golden, notwithstanding what a fondness for this age of baser metal\nmay incline us to represent it.\n\nIn the mean time, these smaller matters have drawn me aside from\nmy main purpose. What surprised me most, pursued he, was to hear\nyou speak so slightly, I would not call it by a worse name, of the\nGOVERNMENT of ELIZABETH. Of the manners and tastes of different ages,\ndifferent persons, according to their views of things, will judge very\ndifferently. But plain facts speak so strongly in favour of the policy\nof that reign, and the superior talents of the sovereign, that I could\nnot but take it for the wantonness of opposition in you to espouse the\ncontrary opinion. And, now I am warmed by this slight skirmish, I am\neven bold enough to dare you to a defence of it; if, indeed, you were\nserious in advancing that strange paradox. At least, I could wish to\nhear upon what grounds you would justify so severe an attack on the\nreverend administration of that reign, supported by the wisdom of such\nmen as CECIL and WALSINGHAM, under the direction of so accomplished a\nprincess as our ELIZABETH. Your manner of defending even the wrong side\nof the question will, at least, be entertaining. And, I think, I may\nanswer for our young friend, that his curiosity will lead him to join\nme in this request to you.\n\nMr. ADDISON said, He did not expect to be called to so severe an\naccount for what had escaped him on this subject. But, though I was\never so willing, continued he, to oblige you, this is no time or place\nfor entering on such a controversy. We have not yet compleated the\nround of these buildings. And I would fain, methinks, make the circuit\nof that pleasant meadow. Besides its having been once, in another\nform, the scene of those shows you described so largely to us, it will\ndeserve to be visited for the sake of the many fine views which, as we\nwind along it, we may promise to ourselves of these ruins.\n\nYou forget my bad legs, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT smiling; otherwise, I\nsuppose, we can neither of us have any dislike to your proposal. But,\nas you please: let us descend from these heights. We may resume the\nconversation, as we walk along: and especially, as you propose, when we\nget down into that valley.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE IV.\n\n  ON THE\n\n  GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.\n\n  BETWEEN\n\n  THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY,\n\n  DR. ARBUTHNOT,\n\n  AND\n\n  MR. ADDISON.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE IV.\n\n  ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.\n\n  MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.\n\n\nBut do you consider, said Mr. ADDISON, as they descended into the\nvalley, what an invidious task you are going to impose upon me? One\ncannot call in question a common opinion in any indifferent matter,\nwithout the appearance of some degree of perverseness. But to do it in\na case of this importance, where the greatest authorities stand in the\nway, and the glory of one of our princes is concerned, will, I doubt,\nbe liable to the imputation of something worse than singularity. For,\nbesides that you will be apt to upbraid me, in the words of the poet,\n\n                Nullum memorabile nomen\n    F\u0153mine\u00e2 in p\u0153n\u00e2 est, nec habet victoria laudem,\n\nsuch a liberty of censure is usually taken for an argument, not of\ndiscourtesy or presumption only, but of ill-nature. At best, the\nattempt to arraign the virtues and government of ELIZABETH will appear\nbut like the idleness of the old sophists, who, you know, were never so\nwell pleased as when they were controverting some acknowledged fact, or\nassaulting some established character.\n\nThat censure might be just enough, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, of the old\nsophists, who had nothing in view but the credit of their own skill\nin the arts of disputation. But in this friendly debate, which\nmeans nothing more than private amusement, I see no colour for such\napprehensions.\n\nBut what shall we say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, to another difficulty?\nThe subject is very large; and it seems no easy matter to reduce\nit into any distinct order. Besides, my business is not so much to\nadvance any thing of my own, as to object to what others have advanced\nconcerning the fame and virtues of ELIZABETH. And to this end, I must\ndesire to know the particulars on which you are disposed to lay the\ngreatest stress, and indeed to have some plan of the subject delivered\nin to me, which may serve, as it were, for the groundwork of the whole\nconversation.\n\nI must not presume, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to prescribe the order in\nwhich your attack on the great queen shall be conducted. The subject,\nindeed, is large. But this common route of history is well known to all\nof us. To that, then, you may well enough refer, without being at the\ntrouble, before you go to work, of laying foundations. Or, if you will\nneeds have a basis to build upon, what if I just run over the several\ncircumstances which I conceive to make most for the credit of that\nreign? A sketch of this sort, I suppose, will answer all the ends of\nthe plan, you seem to require of me.\n\nMr. ADDISON agreed to this proposal; which he thought would be of use\nto shorten the debate, or at least to render the progress of it more\nclear and intelligible.\n\nIn few words then, resumed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, the reasons, that have\nprincipally determined me to an admiration of the government and\ncharacter of queen ELIZABETH, are such as these: \u201cThat she came to the\ncrown with all possible disadvantages; which yet, by the prudence and\nvigour of her counsels, she entirely overcame: that she triumphed over\nthe greatest foreign and domestic dangers: that she humbled the most\nformidable power in _Europe_ by her arms; and composed, or checked at\nleast, by the firmness of her administration, TWO, the most implacable\nand fiery factions at home: that she kept down the rebellious spirit\nof _Ireland_, and eluded the constant intrigues of her restless\nneighbours, the _Scots_: that she fixed our religious establishment on\nsolid grounds; and countenanced, or rather conducted, the Protestant\ncause abroad: that she made her civil authority respected by her\nsubjects; and raised the military glory of the nation, both by sea and\nland, to the greatest height: that she employed the ablest servants,\nand enacted the wisest laws: by all which means it came to pass that\nshe lived in a constant good understanding with her parliaments, was\nidolized by her people, and admired and envied by all the rest of the\nworld.\u201d\n\nAlas, said Mr. ADDISON, I shall never be able to follow you through\nall the particulars of this encomium: and, to say the truth, it would\nbe to little purpose; since the wisdom of her policy, in all these\ninstances of her government, can only be estimated from a careful\nperusal of the histories of that time; too numerous and contradictory\nto be compared and adjusted in this conversation. All I can do,\ncontinued he, after taking a moment or two to recollect himself, is\nto abate the force of this panegyric by some general observations of\nthe CIRCUMSTANCES and GENIUS of that time; and then to consider the\npersonal QUALITIES of the queen, which are thought to reflect so great\na lustre on her government.\n\nAs you please, Dr. ARBUTHNOT replied. We shall hardly lose ourselves in\nthis beaten field of history. And, besides, as your undertaking is so\nadventurous, it is but reasonable you should have the choice of your\nown method.\n\nYou are in the common opinion, I perceive, resumed Mr. ADDISON, that\nELIZABETH\u2019S government was attended with all possible disadvantages.\nOn the contrary, it appears to me that the security and even splendour\nof her reign is chiefly to be accounted for from the fortunate\nCIRCUMSTANCES of her situation.\n\nOf these the FIRST, that demands our notice, is the great affair of\nreligion.\n\nThe principles of PROTESTANTISM had now for many years been working\namong the people. They had grown to that head in the short reign of\nEDWARD VI. that the bloody severities of his successor served only to\nexasperate the zeal, with which these principles had been embraced\nand promoted. ELIZABETH, coming to the crown at this juncture, was\ndetermined, as well by interest as inclination, to take the side of\nthe new religion. I say by _interest_, as well as inclination. And,\nI think, I have reason for the assertion. For though the persons in\npower, and the clergy throughout the kingdom, were generally professed\npapists; yet they were most of them such as had conformed in king\nEDWARD\u2019S days, and were not therefore much to be feared for any tie,\ntheir _profession_ could really have on their consciences. Whereas,\non the other hand, it was easy to see, from many symptoms, that the\ngeneral bent of the nation was towards Protestantism; and that,\ntoo, followed with a spirit, which must in the end prevail over all\nopposition. Under these circumstances, then, it was natural for the\nqueen, if she had not been otherwise led by her principles, and the\ninterest of her title, to favour the Reformation.\n\nThe truth is, she came into it herself so heartily, and provided so\neffectually for its establishment, that we are not to wonder she\nbecame the idol of the Reformed, at the same time that the papal power\nthrough all _Europe_ was confederated against her. The enthusiasm\nof her Protestant subjects was prodigious. It was raised by other\nconsiderations; but confirmed in all orders of the state by the ease\nthey felt in their deliverance from the tyranny of the church; and in\nthe great especially, by the sweets they tasted in their enjoyment\nof the church-revenues. It was, in short, one of those extraordinary\nconjunctures, in which the public danger becomes the public security;\nwhen religion and policy, conscience and interest, unite their powers\nto support the authority of the prince, and to give fidelity, vigour,\nand activity to the obedience of the subject.\n\nAnd thus it was, continued he, that so warm and unconquerable a zeal\nappeared in defence of the queen against all attempts of her enemies.\nHer people were so thoroughly Protestant, as to think no expence of\nher government too great, provided they could but be secured from\nrelapsing into Popery. And her parliaments were disposed to wave all\ndisputes about the stretch of her prerogative, from a sense of their\nown and the common danger.\n\nIn magnifying this advantage of the zeal and union of ELIZABETH\u2019S\ngood subjects, you forgot, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that two restless and\ninveterate factions were contending, all her lifetime, within her own\nkingdom.\n\nI am so far from forgetting that circumstance, returned Mr. ADDISON,\nthat I esteem it ANOTHER of the great advantages of her situation.\n\nThe contrary tendencies of those factions in some respects defeated\neach other. But the principal use of them was, that, by means of their\npractices, some domestic plot, or foreign alarm, was always at hand,\nto quicken the zeal and inflame the loyalty of her people. But to be a\nlittle more particular about the factions of her reign.\n\nThe PAPIST was, in truth, the only one she had reason to be alarmed at.\nThe PURITAN had but just begun to shew himself, though indeed with that\nferocity of air and feature, which signified clearly enough what spirit\nhe was of, and what, in good time, he was likely to come to. Yet even\nhe was kept in tolerable humour, by a certain commodious policy of the\nqueen; which was, so to divide her regards betwixt the Church and the\nPuritans, as made it the interest of both to keep well with her. \u2019Tis\ntrue, these last felt the weight of her resentment sometimes, when they\nventured too saucily to oppose themselves to the establishment. But\nthis was rarely, and by halves: and, when checked with the most rigour,\nthey had the satisfaction to see their patrons continue in the highest\nplaces at court, and, what is more, in the highest degree of personal\nfavour.\n\nAnd what doth all this shew, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but that she\nmanaged so well as to disarm a furious faction, or rather make it serve\nagainst the bent of its nature, to the wise ends of her government?\n\nAs to any wise ends of government, I see none, replied Mr. ADDISON,\ndeserving to be so called, that were answered by her uncertain conduct\ntowards the Puritans. For she neither restrained them with that\nseverity, which might perhaps have prevented their growth, at first;\nnor shewed them that entire indulgence, which might have disabled\ntheir fury afterwards. It is true, this temporizing conduct was well\nenough adapted to prevent disturbances in her own time. But large\nmaterials were laid in for that terrible combustion, which was soon to\nbreak forth under one of her successors.\n\nAnd so, instead of imputing the disasters that followed, said Dr.\nARBUTHNOT, to the ill-government of the STUARTS, you are willing to lay\nthe whole guilt of them on this last and greatest of the TUDORS. This\nis a new way of defending that royal house; and, methinks, they owe you\nno small acknowledgments for it. I confess, it never occurred to me to\nmake that apology for them.\n\nThough I would not undertake, said Mr. ADDISON, to make their apology\nfrom this, or any other, circumstance; I do indeed believe that part\nof the difficulties the house of STUART had to encounter, were brought\nupon them by this wretched policy of their predecessor. But, waving\nthis consideration, I desire you will take notice of what I chiefly\ninsist upon, \u201cThat the ease and security of ELIZABETH\u2019S administration\nwas even favoured by the turbulent practices and clashing views of her\ndomestic factions.\u201d The PURITAN was an instrument, in her hands, of\ncontrouling the church, and of balancing the power of her ministers:\nbesides that this sort of people were, of all others, the most\ninveterate against the common enemy. And for the PAPISTS themselves\n(not to insist that, of course, they would be strictly watched, and\nthat they were not, perhaps, so considerable as to create any immediate\ndanger[84]), the general abhorrence both of their principles and\ndesigns had the greatest effect in uniting more closely, and cementing,\nas it were, the affections of the rest of her subjects. So that,\nwhether within or without, the common danger, as I expressed it, was\nthe common safety.\n\nStill, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I must think this a very extraordinary\nconclusion. I have no idea of the security of the great queen,\nsurrounded, as she was, by her domestic and foreign enemies.\n\nHer foreign enemies, returned Mr. ADDISON, were less formidable than\nthey appear at first view. And I even make the condition of the\nneighbouring powers on the Continent, in her time, a THIRD instance of\nthe signal advantages of her situation.\n\nIt is true, if a perfect union had subsisted between the Catholic\nprinces, the papal thunders would have carried terror with them. But,\nas it was, they were powerless and ineffectual. The civil wars of\n_France_, and its constant jealousy of _Spain_, left the queen but\nlittle to apprehend from that quarter. The _Spanish_ empire, indeed,\nwas vast, and under the direction of a bigoted vindictive prince. But\nthe administration was odious and corrupt in every part. So that wise\nmen saw there was more of bulk than of force in that unwieldy monarchy.\nAnd the successful struggles of a handful of its subjects, inflamed by\nthe love of liberty, and made furious by oppression, proclaimed its\nweakness to all the world.\n\nIt may be true, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that the queen had less to\nfear from the princes on the Continent, than is sometimes represented.\nBut you forget, in this survey of the public dangers, the distractions\nof IRELAND, and the restless intrigues of her near neighbours, the\nSCOTS: both of them assisted by _Spain_; and these last under the\npeculiar influence and direction of the GUISES.\n\nYou shall have my opinion, returned Mr. ADDISON, in few words.\n\nFor the IRISH distractions, it was not the queen\u2019s intention, or\ncertainly it was not her fortune, to compose them: I mean, during the\ngreatest part of her reign; for we are now speaking of the general\ntenor of her policy. Towards the close of it, indeed, she made some\nvigorous attempts to break the spirits of those savages. And it was\nhigh time she should. For, through her faint proceedings against them,\nthey had grown to that insolence, as to think of setting up for an\nindependency on _England_. Nay, the presumption of that arch-rebel\nTYRONE, countenanced and abetted by _Spain_, seemed to threaten\nthe queen with still further mischiefs. The extreme dishonour and\neven peril of this situation roused her old age, at length, to the\nresolution of taking some effectual measures. The preparation was\ngreat, and suitable to the undertaking. It must, further, be owned, it\nsucceeded: but so late, that she herself did not live to see the full\neffect of it. However, this success is reckoned among the glories of\nher reign. In the mean time, it is not considered that nothing but her\nill policy, in suffering the disorders of that country to gather to a\nhead, made way for this glory. I call it her _ill policy_, for unless\nit were rather owing to her excessive frugality[85] one can hardly help\nthinking she designed to perpetuate the _Irish_ distractions. At least,\nit was agreeable to a favourite maxim of hers, to check, and not to\nsuppress them. And I think it clear, from the manner of prosecuting the\nwar, that, till this last alarm, she never was in earnest about putting\nan end to it.\n\nSCOTLAND, indeed, demanded a more serious attention. Yet the weak\ndistracted counsels of that court\u2014a minor king\u2014a captive queen\u2014and\nthe unsettled state of _France_ itself, which defeated in a good degree\nthe malice of the GUISES\u2014were favourable circumstances.\n\nBut to be fair with you (for I would appear in the light of a\nreasonable objector, not a captious wrangler); I allow her policy in\nthis instance to have been considerable. She kept a watchful eye on the\nside of _Scotland_. And, though many circumstances concurred to favour\nher designs, it must be owned they were not carried without much care\nand some wisdom.\n\nI understand the value of this concession, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT. It\nmust have been no common degree of both, that extorted it from you.\n\nI decline entering further, said Mr. ADDISON, into the public\ntransactions of that reign; if it were only that, at this distance of\ntime, it may be no easy matter to determine any thing of the policy,\nwith which they were conducted. Only give me leave to add, as a FOURTH\ninstance of the favourable circumstances of the time, \u201cThat the\nprerogative was then in its height, and that a patient people allowed\nthe queen to use it on all occasions.\u201d Hence the apparent vigour and\nfirmness of her administration: and hence the opportunity (which is so\nrarely found in our country) of directing the whole strength of the\nnation to any end of government, which the glory of the prince or the\npublic interest required.\n\nWhat you impute to the high strain of prerogative, returned Dr.\nARBUTHNOT, might rather be accounted for from the ability of her\ngovernment, and the wise means she took to support it. The principal\nof these was, by employing the GREATEST MEN in the several departments\nof her administration. Every kind of merit was encouraged by her\nsmile[86], or rewarded by her bounty. Virtue, she knew, would\nthrive best on its native stock, a generous emulation. This she\npromoted by all means; by her royal countenance, by a temperate and\njudicious praise, by the wisest distribution of her preferments. Hence\nwould naturally arise that confidence in the queen\u2019s counsels and\nundertakings, which the servile awe of her prerogative could never have\noccasioned.\n\nThis is the true account of the loyalty, obedience, and fidelity,\nby which her servants were distinguished. And thus, in fact, it was\nthat, throughout her kingdom, there was every where that reverence of\nauthority[87], that sense of honour, that conscience of duty, in a\nword, that gracious simplicity of manners, which renders the age of\nELIZABETH truly GOLDEN: as presenting the fairest picture of humanity,\nthat is to be met with in the accounts of any people.\n\nIt is true, as you say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, that _this picture is a\nfair one_. But of what is it a copy? Of the GENIUS of the time, or of\nthe queen\u2019s virtues? You shall judge for yourself, after I have laid\nbefore you TWO remarkable events of that age, which could not but have\nthe greatest effect on the public manners; I mean, THE REFORMATION OF\nRELIGION, and what was introductory of it, THE RESTORATION OF LETTERS.\nFrom these, as their proper sources, I would derive the ability and\nfidelity of ELIZABETH\u2019S good subjects.\n\nThe passion for LETTERS was extreme. The novelty of these studies, the\nartifices that had been used to keep men from them, their apparent\nuses, and, perhaps, some confused notion of a certain diviner virtue\nthan really belongs to them; these causes concurred to excite a\ncuriosity in all, and determined those, who had leisure, as well as\ncuriosity, to make themselves acquainted with the _Greek_ and _Roman_\nlearning. The ecclesiastics, who, for obvious reasons, would be the\nfirst and most earnest in their application to letters, were not\nthe only persons transported with this zeal. The gentry and nobility\nthemselves were seized with it. A competent knowledge of the old\nwriters was looked upon as essential to a gentleman\u2019s education. So\nthat _Greek_ and _Latin_ became as fashionable at court in those days,\nas _French_ is in ours. ELIZABETH herself, which I wonder you did not\nput me in mind of, was well skilled in both[88]; they say, employed her\nleisure in making some fine translations out of either language. It\nis easy to see what effect this general attention to letters must have\non the minds of the liberal and well-educated. And it was a happiness\npeculiar to that age, that learning, though cultivated with such zeal,\nhad not as yet degenerated into pedantry: I mean, that, in those\nstirring and active times, it was cultivated, not so much for show, as\nuse; and was not followed, as it soon came to be, to the exclusion of\nother generous and manly applications.\n\nConsider, too, the effects, which the alterations in RELIGION had\nproduced. As they had been lately made, as their importance was great,\nand as the benefits of the change had been earned at the expence of\nmuch blood and labour: all these considerations begot a zeal for\nreligion, which hardly ever appears under other circumstances. This\nzeal had an immediate and very sensible effect on the morals of the\nReformed. It improved them in every instance; especially as it produced\na cheerful submission to the government, which had rescued them from\ntheir former slavery, and was still their only support against the\nreturning dangers of superstition. Thus religion, acting with all its\npower, and that, too, heightened by gratitude and even self-interest,\nbound obedience on the minds of men with the strongest ties[89]. And\nluckily for the queen, this obedience was further secured to her\nby the high uncontroverted notions of royalty, which, at that time,\nobtained amongst the people.\n\nLay all this together; and then tell me where is the wonder that a\npeople, now emerging out of ignorance; uncorrupted by wealth, and\ntherefore undebauched by luxury; trained to obedience, and nurtured\nin simplicity; but, above all, caught with the love of learning and\nreligion, while neither of them was worn for fashion-sake, or, what\nis worse, perverted to the ends of vanity or ambition; where, say, is\nthe wonder that such a people should present so bright a picture of\nmanner\u2019s to their admiring panegyrist?\n\nTo be fair with you; it was one of those conjunctures, in which the\nactive virtues are called forth, and rewarded. The dangers of the time\nhad roused the spirit, and brought out all the force and genius, of\nthe nation. A sort of enthusiasm had fired every man with the ambition\nof exerting the full strength of his faculties, which way soever they\npointed, whether to the field, the closet, or the cabinet. Hence such\na crop of soldiers, scholars, and statesmen had sprung up, as have\nrarely been seen to flourish together in any country. And as all owed\ntheir duty, it was the fashion of the times for all to bring their\npretensions, to the court. So that, where the multitude of candidates\nwas so great, it had been strange indeed, if an ordinary discretion\nhad not furnished the queen with able servants of all sorts; and the\nrather, as her occasions loudly called upon her to employ the ablest.\n\nI was waiting, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to see to what conclusion this\ncareer of your eloquence would at length drive you. And it hath\nhappened in this case, as in most others where a favourite point is to\nbe carried, that a zeal for it is indulged, though at the expence of\nsome other of more importance. Rather than admit the personal virtues\nof the queen, you fill her court, nay, her kingdom, with heroes and\nsages: and so have paid a higher compliment to her reign, than I had\nintended.\n\nTo her _reign_, if you will, replied Mr. ADDISON, so far as regards the\nqualities and dispositions of her subjects: for I will not lessen the\nmerit of this concession with you, by insisting, as I might, that their\n_manners_, respectable as they were, were debased by the contrary,\nyet very consistent, vices of servility and insolence[90]; and their\nvirtues of every kind deformed by, barbarism. But, for the queen\u2019s own\nmerit in the choice of her servants, I must take leave to declare my\nsentiments to you very plainly. It may be true, that she possessed a\ngood degree of sagacity in discerning the natures and talents of men.\nIt was the virtue by which, her admirers tell us, she was principally\ndistinguished. Yet, that the high fame of this virtue hath been owing\nto the felicity of the times, abounding in all sorts of merit, rather\nthan to her own judgment, I think clear from this circumstance, \u201cThat\nsome of the most deserving of those days, in their several professions,\nhad not the fortune to attract the queen\u2019s grace, in the proportion\nthey might have expected.\u201d I say nothing of poor SPENSER. Who has any\nconcern for a poet[91]? But if merit alone had determined her majesty\u2019s\nchoice, it will hardly at this day admit a dispute, that the immortal\nHOOKER and BACON[92], at least, had ranked in another class than that,\nin which this great discerner of spirits thought fit to leave them.\n\nAnd her character; continued he, in every other respect is just as\nequivocal. For having touched one part of it, I now turn from these\ngeneral considerations on the circumstances and genius of the time,\nto our more immediate subject, the PERSONAL QUALITIES of ELIZABETH.\nHitherto we have stood aloof from the queen\u2019s person. But there is no\nproceeding a step further in this debate, unless you allow me a little\nmore liberty. May I then be permitted to draw the veil of ELIZABETH\u2019S\ncourt, and, by the lights which history holds out to us, contemplate\nthe mysteries, that were celebrated in that awful sanctuary?\n\nAfter so reverend a preface, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I think you may\nbe indulged in this liberty. And the rather, as I am not apprehensive\nthat the honour of the illustrious queen is likely to suffer by it. The\nsecrets of her cabinet-council, it may be, are not to be scanned by the\nprofane. But it will be no presumption to step into the drawing-room.\n\nYet I may be tempted, said Mr. ADDISON, to use a freedom in this survey\nof her majesty, that would not have been granted to her most favoured\ncourtiers. As far as I can judge of her character, as displayed in that\nsolemn scene of her court, she had some apparent VIRTUES, but more\ngenuine VICES; which yet, in the public eye, had equally the fortune to\nreflect a lustre on her government.\n\nHer gracious affability, her love of her people, her zeal for the\nnational glory; were not these her more obvious and specious qualities?\nYet I doubt they were not so much the proper effects of her nature, as\nher policy; a set of spurious virtues, begotten by the very necessity\nof her affairs.\n\nFor her AFFABILITY, she saw there was no way of being secure amidst\nthe dangers of all sorts, with which she was surrounded; but by\ningratiating herself with the body of the people. And, though in her\nnature she was as little inclined to this condescension as any of her\nsuccessors, yet the expediency of this measure compelled her to save\nappearances. And it must be owned, she did it with grace, and even\nacted her part with spirit. Possibly the consideration of her being a\nfemale actor, was no disadvantage to her.\n\nBut, when she had made this sacrifice to interest, her proper temper\nshewed itself clearly enough in the treatment of her nobles, and of all\nthat came within the verge of the court. Her caprice, and jealousy,\nand haughtiness, appeared in a thousand instances. She took offence so\neasily, and forgave so difficultly, that even her principal ministers\ncould hardly keep their ground, and were often obliged to redeem her\nfavour by the lowest submissions. When nothing else would do, they\nsickened, and were even at death\u2019s door: from which peril, however, she\nwould sometimes relieve them; but not till she had exacted from them,\nin the way of penance, a course of the most mortifying humiliations.\nNay, the very ladies of her court had no way to maintain their credit\nwith her, but by, submitting patiently to the last indignities.\n\nIt is allowed, from the instances you have in view, returned Dr.\nARBUTHNOT, that her nature was something high and imperious. But these\nsallies of passion might well enough consist with her general character\nof affability.\n\nHardly, as I conceive, answered Mr. ADDISON, if you reflect that\nthese sallies, or rather habits of passion, were the daily terror and\nvexation of all about her. Her very minions seemed raised for no other\npurpose, than the exercise of her ill-humour. They were encouraged, by\nher smile, to presume on the royal countenance, and then beaten down\nagain in punishment of that presumption. But, to say the truth, the\nslavish temper of the time was favourable to such exertions of female\ncaprice and tyranny. Her imperious father, all whose virtues, she\ninherited, had taught her a sure way to quell the spirit of her nobles.\nThey had been long used to stand in awe of the royal frown. And the\npeople were pleased to find their betters ruled with so high a hand,\nat a time when they themselves were addressed with every expression of\nrespect, and even flattery.\n\nShe even carried this mockery so far, that, as HARRINGTON observes\nwell, \u201cshe converted her reign, through the perpetual love-tricks\nthat passed between her and her people, into a kind of romance.\u201d And\nthough that political projector, in prosecution of his favourite\nnotion, supposes the queen to have been determined to these intrigues\nby observing, that the weight of property was fallen into the popular\nscale; yet we need look no further for an account of this proceeding,\nthan the inherent haughtiness of her temper. She gratified the\ninsolence of her nature, in neglecting, or rather beating down, her\nnobility, whose greatness might seem to challenge respect: while the\ncourt, she paid to the people, revolted her pride less, as passing only\nupon herself, as well as others, for a voluntary act of affability.\nJust as we every day see very proud men carry it with much loftiness\ntowards their equals, or those who and raised to some nearness of\ndegree to themselves; at the same time that they affect a sort of\ncourtesy to such, as are confessedly beneath them.\n\nYou see, then, what her boasted affability comes to. She gave good\nwords to her people, whom it concerned her to be well with, and whom\nher pride itself allowed her to _manage_: she insulted her nobles, whom\nshe had in her power, and whose abasement flattered the idea, she doted\nupon, of her own superiority and importance[93].\n\nLet the queen\u2019s manner of treating her subjects be what it would, Dr.\nARBUTHNOT said, it appears to have given no offence in those days,\nwhen the sincerity of her intentions was never questioned. Her whole\nlife is a convincing argument; that she bore the most entire affection\nto her people.\n\nHER LOVE OF HER PEOPLE, returned Mr. ADDISON hastily, is with me a very\nquestionable virtue. For what account shall we give of the multitude of\npenal statutes, passed in her reign? Or, because you will say, there\nwas some colour for these; what excuse shall we make for her frequent\ngrants of monopolies, so ruinous to the public wealth and happiness,\nand so perpetually complained of by her parliaments? You will say,\nshe recalled them. She did so. But not till the general indignation\nhad, in a manner, forced her to recall them. If by her _people_, be\nmeant those of the poorer and baser sort only, it may be allowed, she\nseemed on all occasions willing to spare them. But for those of better\nrank and fortune, she had no such consideration. On the other hand,\nshe contrived in many ways to pillage and distress them. It was the\ntameness of that time, to submit to every imposition of the sovereign.\nShe had only to command her gentry on any service she thought fit, and\nthey durst not decline it. How many of her wealthiest and best subjects\ndid she impoverish by these means (though under colour, you may be\nsure, of her high favour); and sometimes by her very visits! I will not\nbe certain, added he, that her visit to this pompous castle of her own\nLEICESTER, had any other intention.\n\nBut what, above all, are we to think of her vow of celibacy, and her\nobstinate refusal to settle the succession, though at the constant\nhazard of the public peace and safety?\n\nYou are hard put to it, I perceive, interrupted. Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to\nimpeach the character of the queen in this instance, when a few penal\nlaws, necessary to the support of her crown in that time of danger; one\nwrong measure of her government, and that corrected; the ordinary use\nof her prerogative; and even her virginity; are made crimes of. But I\nam curious to hear what you have to object to her ZEAL FOR THE ENGLISH\nGLORY, carried so high in her reign; and the single point, as it seems\nto me, to which all her measures and all her counsels were directed.\n\nThe _English_ glory, Mr. ADDISON said, may, perhaps, mean the state and\nindependency of the crown. And then, indeed, I have little to object.\nBut, in any other sense of the word, I have sometimes presumed to\nquestion with myself, if it had not been better consulted, by more\neffectual assistance of the Reformed on the Continent; by a more\nvigorous prosecution of the war against _Spain_[94]; as I hinted\nbefore, by a more complete reduction of _Ireland_. But say, we are\nno judges of those high matters. What glory accrued to the _English_\nname, by the insidious dealing with the queen of _Scots_; by the\nvindictive proceedings against the duke of _Norfolk_; by the merciless\npersecutions of the unhappy earl of _Essex_? The same spirit, you see,\ncontinued from the beginning of this reign to the end of it. And the\nobservation is the better worth attending to, because some have excused\nthe queen\u2019s treatment of ESSEX by saying, \u201cThat her nature, in that\ndecline of life, was somewhat clouded by apprehensions; as the horizon,\nthey observe, in the evening of the brightest day, is apt to be\nobscured by vapours[95].\u201d As if this fanciful simile, which illustrates\nperhaps, could excuse, the perverseness of the queen\u2019s temper; or, as\nif that could deserve to pass for an incident of age, which operated\nthrough life; and so declares itself to have been the proper result of\nher nature.\n\nYou promised, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, not to pry too closely into\nthe secrets of the cabinet. And such I must needs esteem the points\nto be, which you have mentioned. But enough of these beaten topics.\nI would rather attend you in the survey you promised to take of her\ncourt, and of the princely qualities that adorned it. It is from what\npasses in the inside of his palace, rather than from some questionable\npublic acts, that the real character of a prince is best determined.\nAnd there, methinks, you have a scene opened to you, that deserves your\napplause. Nothing appears but what is truly royal. Nobody knew better,\nthan ELIZABETH, how to support the decorum of her rank. She presided\nin that high orb with the dignity of a great queen. In all emergencies\nof danger, she shewed a firmness, and, on all occasions of ceremony,\na magnificence, that commanded respect and admiration. Her very\ndiversions were tempered with a severity becoming her sex and place,\nand which made her court, even in its lightest and gayest humours, a\nschool of virtue.\n\nThese are the points, concluded he, I could wish you to speak to. The\nrest may be left to the judgment of the historian, or rather to the\ncuriosity of the nice and critical politician.\n\nYou shall be obeyed, Mr. ADDISON said. I thought it not amiss to\ntake off the glare of those applauded qualities, which have dazzled\nthe public at a distance, by shewing that they were either feigned\nor over-rated. But I come now to unmask the real character of this\nrenowned princess. I shall paint her freely indeed, but truly as she\nappears to me. And, to speak my mind at once; I think it is not so\nmuch to her virtues, which at best were equivocal, as to her very\nVICES, that we are to impute the popular admiration of her character\nand government.\n\nI before took notice of the high, indecent PASSION, she discovered\ntowards her courtiers. This fierceness of temper in the softer sex was\ntaken for heroism; and, falling in with the slavish principles of the\nage, begot a degree of reverence in her subjects, which a more equal,\nthat is a more becoming, deportment would not have produced. Hence, she\nwas better served than most of our princes, only because she was more\nfeared; in other words, because she less deserved to be so. But high as\nshe would often carry herself in this unprincely, I had almost said,\nunwomanly, treatment of her servants; awing the men by her oaths, and\nher women by blows; it is still to be remembered, that she had a great\ndeal of natural TIMIDITY in her constitution.\n\nWhat! interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT hastily, the magnanimous ELIZABETH\na coward? I should as soon have expected that charge against C\u00c6SAR\nhimself, or your own MARLBOROUGH.\n\nI distinguish, Mr. ADDISON said, betwixt a parade of courage, put on to\nserve a turn, and keep her people in spirits, and that true greatness\nof mind, which, in one word, we call _magnanimity_. For this last,\nI repeat it, she either had it not, or not in the degree in which\nit has been ascribed to her. On the contrary, I see a littleness,\na pusillanimity, in her conduct on a thousand occasions. Hence it\nwas, that both to her people and such of the neighbouring states as\nshe stood in awe of, she used an excessive hypocrisy, which, in the\nlanguage of the court, you may be sure, was called policy. To the\n_Hollanders_, indeed, she could talk big; and it was not her humour to\nmanage those over whom she had gained an ascendant. This has procured\nher, with many, the commendation of a princely magnanimity. But, on the\nother hand, when discontents were apprehended from her subjects, or\nwhen _France_ was to be diverted from any designs against her, no art\nwas forgotten that might cajole their spirits with all the professions\nof cordiality and affection. Then she was _wedded_, that was the tender\nword, to her people: and then the interest of religion itself was\nsacrificed by this Protestant queen to her newly-perverted brother on\nthe Continent.\n\nHer foible, in this respect, was no secret to her ministers. But, above\nall, it was practised upon most successfully by the Lord BURGHLEY; \u201cfor\nwhom, as I have seem it observed, it was as necessary that there should\nbe treasons, as for the state that they should be prevented[96].\u201d Hence\nit was, that he was perpetually raising her fears, by the discovery\nof some plot, or, when that was wanting, by the proposal of some\nlaw for her greater security. In short, he was for ever finding, or\nmaking, or suggesting, dangers. The queen, though she would look big\n(for indeed she was an excellent actress), startled at the shadows of\nthose dangers, the slightest rumours. And to this convenient timidity\nof his mistress, so constantly alarmed, and relieved in turn by this\nwily minister, was owing, in a good degree, that long and unrivalled\ninterest, he held in her favour.\n\nStill, further, to this constitutional _fear_ (which might be forgiven\nto her sex, if it had not been so strangely mixed with a more than\nmasculine ferocity in other instances) must be ascribed those favourite\nmaxims of policy, which ran through her whole government. Never was\nprince more attached to the Machiavelian doctrine, DIVIDE ET IMPERA,\nthan our ELIZABETH[97]. It made the soul of her policies, domestic\nand foreign. She countenanced the two prevailing factions of the time.\nThe Churchmen and Puritans divided her favour so equally, that her\nfavourites were sure to be the chiefs of the contending parties. Nay,\nher court was a constant scene of cabals and personal animosities. She\ngave a secret, and sometimes an open, countenance to these jealousies.\nThe same principle directed all her foreign[98] negociations.\n\nAnd are you not aware, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that this objected\npolicy is the very topic that I, and every other admirer of the\nqueen, would employ in commendation of her great ability in the art\nof government? It has been the fate of too many of our princes (and\nperhaps some late examples might be given) to be governed, and even\ninsulted, by a prevailing party of their own subjects. ELIZABETH was\nsuperior to such attempts. She had no bye-ends to pursue. She frankly\nthrew herself on her people. And, secure in their affection, could\ndefeat at pleasure, or even divert herself with, the intrigues of this\nor that aspiring faction.\n\nWe understand you, Mr. ADDISON replied; but when two parties are\ncontending within a state, and one of them only in its true interest,\nthe policy is a little extraordinary that should incline the sovereign\nto discourage _this_, from the poor ambition of controuling _that_, or,\nas you put it still worse, from the dangerous humour of playing with\n_both_ parties. I say nothing of later times. I only ask; if it was\nindifferent, whether the counsels of the CECILS or of LEICESTER were\npredominant in that reign? But I mentioned these things before, and I\ntouch them again now, only to shew you, that this conduct, however it\nmay be varnished over by the name of wisdom, had too much the air of\nfearful womanish intrigue, to consist with that heroical firmness and\nintrepidity so commonly ascribed to queen ELIZABETH[99].\n\nAnd what if, after all, I should admit, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that, in\nthe composition of a woman\u2019s courage, at least, there might be some\nscruples of discretion? Is there any advantage, worth contending for,\nyou could draw from such a concession? Or, because you would be thought\nserious, I will put the matter more gravely. The arts of prudence,\nyou arraign so severely, could not be taken for pusillanimity. They\ncertainly were not, in her own time; for she was not the less esteemed\nor revered by all the nations of _Europe_ on account of them. The most\nyou can fairly conclude is, that she knew how to unite address with\nbravery, and that, on occasion, she could _dissemble_ her high spirit.\nThe difficulties of her situation obliged her to this management.\n\nRather say at once, returned Mr. ADDISON, that the constant\ndissimulation, for which she was so famous, was assumed to supply\nthe want of a better thing, which had rendered all those arts as\nunnecessary as they were ignoble.\n\nBut _haughtiness_ and _timidity_, pursued he, were not the only vices\nthat turned to good account in the queen\u2019s hands. She was frugal\nbeyond all bounds of decorum in a prince, or rather AVARICIOUS beyond\nall reasonable excuse from the public wants and the state of her\nrevenue. Nothing is more certain than this fact, from the allowance\nboth of friends and enemies. It seems as if, in this respect, her\nfather\u2019s example had not been sufficient; and that, to complete her\ncharacter, she had incorporated with many of his, the leading vice of\nher grandfather.\n\nHere Dr. ARBUTHNOT could not contain himself; and the castle happening\nat that time, from the point where they stood, to present the most\nsuperb prospect, \u201cLook there, said he, on the striking, though small,\nremnants of that grandeur you just now magnified so much; and tell me\nif, in your conscience, you can believe such grants are the signs,\nor were the effects, of avarice. For you are not to learn, that this\npalace before us is not the only one in the kingdom, which bears the\nmemory of the queen\u2019s bounty to her servants.\u201d\n\nMr. ADDISON seemed a little struck with the earnestness of this\naddress: \u201cIt is true, said he, the queen\u2019s fondness for one or two of\nher favourites made her sometimes lavish of her grants; especially\nof what cost her nothing, and did not, it seems, offend the delicacy\nof her scruples; I mean, of the _church-lands_. But at the same time\nher treasury was shut against her ambassadors and foreign ministers;\nwho complain of nothing more frequently than the slenderness of their\nappointments, and the small and slow remittances that were made\nto them. This frugality (for I must not call it by a worse name)\ndistressed the public service on many occasions[100]; and would have\ndone it on more, if the zeal of her trusty servants had not been\ncontent to carry it on at the expence of their own fortunes. How many\ninstances might be given of this, if ONE were not more than sufficient,\nand which all posterity will remember with indignation!\n\nYou speak of WALSINGHAM, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT. But were it not more\ncandid to impute the poverty of that minister to his own generous\ncontempt of riches, which he had doubtless many, fair occasions of\nprocuring to himself, than to any designed neglect of him by his\nmistress?\n\nThe candour, returned Mr. ADDISON, must be very extraordinary, that\ncan find an excuse for the queen in a circumstance that doubles her\ndisgrace. But be it as you pretend. The uncommon moderation of the\nman shall be a cover to the queen\u2019s parsimony. It was not, we will\nsay, for this wise princess to provoke an appetite for wealth in her\nservants: it was enough that she gratified it, on proper occasions,\nwhere she found it already raised. And in this proceeding, no doubt,\nshe was governed by a tender regard, for their honour, as well as her\nown interest. For how is her great secretary ennobled, by filling a\nplace in the short list of those worthies, who, having lived and died\nin the service of their countries, have left not so much as a pittance\nbehind them, to carry them to their graves! All this is very well. But\nwhen she had indulged this humour in one or two of her favourites,\nand suffered them, for example\u2019s sake, to ascend to these heights of\nhonour, it was going, methinks, a little too far, to expect the same\ndelicacy of virtue in all her courtiers. Yet it was not her fault, if\nmost of them did not reap this fame of illustrious poverty, as well as\nWALSINGHAM. She dealt by them, indeed, as if she had ranked poverty, as\nwell as celibacy, among the cardinal virtues.\n\nIn the mean time, I would not deny that she had a princely fondness for\nshew and appearance. She took a pride in the brilliancy of her court.\nShe delighted in the large trains of her nobility. She required to be\nroyally entertained by them. And she thought her honour concerned in\nthe figure they made in foreign courts, and in the wars. But, if she\nloved this pomp, she little cared to furnish the expence of it. She\nconsidered in good earnest (as some have observed, who would have the\nobservation pass for a compliment[101]) _the purses of her subjects\nas her own_; and seemed to reckon on their being always open to her on\nany occasion of service, or even ceremony. She carried this matter so\nfar, that the very expences of her wars were rather defrayed out of the\nprivate purses of her nobility, than the public treasury. As if she had\ntaken it for a part of her _prerogative_ to impoverish her nobles at\npleasure; or rather, as if she had a mind to have it thought that one\nof their _privileges_ was, to be allowed to ruin themselves from a zeal\nto her service.\n\nBut the queen\u2019s avarice, proceeded he, did not only appear from her\nexcessive parsimony in the management of the public treasure, but from\nher rapacity in getting what she could from particulars into her privy\npurse. Hence it was that all offices, and even personal favours, were\nin a manner set to sale. For it was a rule with her majesty, to grant\nno suit but for a reasonable consideration. So that whoever pretended\nto any place of profit or honour was sure to send a jewel, or other\nrich present beforehand, to prepare her mind for the entertainment\nof his petition. And to what other purpose was it that she kept her\noffices so long vacant, but to give more persons an opportunity of\nwinning a preference in her favour; which for the most part inclined\nto those who had appeared, in this interval, to deserve it best? Nay,\nthe slightest disgust, which she frequently took on very frivolous\noccasions, could not be got over but by the reconciling means of some\nvaluable or well fancied present. And, what was most grievous, she\nsometimes accepted the present, without remitting the offence.\n\nI remember a ridiculous instance of this sort. When the Lady LEICESTER\nwanted to obtain the pardon of her unfortunate son, the Lord ESSEX, she\npresented the queen with an exceeding rich gown, to the value of above\nan hundred pounds. She was well pleased with the gift, but thought no\nmore of the pardon. We need not, after this, wonder at what is said of\nher majesty\u2019s leaving a prodigious quantity of jewels and plate behind\nher, and even a _crowded wardrobe_. For so prevalent was this thrifty\nhumour in the queen\u2019s highness, that she could not persuade herself to\npart with so much, as a cast-gown to any of her servants[102].\n\nYou allow yourself to be very gay, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, on this\nfoible of the great queen. But one thing you forget, that it never\nbiased her judgment so far as to prevent a fit choice of her servants\non all occasions[103]. And, as to her wary management of the public\nrevenue, which you take a pleasure to exaggerate, this, methinks, is\na venial fault in a prince, who could not, in her circumstances; have\nprovided for the expences of government, but by the nicest and most\nattentive economy.\n\nI understand, said Mr. ADDISON, the full force of that consideration;\nand believe it was that _attention_ principally, which occasioned the\npopularity of her reign, and the high esteem, in which the wisdom of\nher government is held to this day. The bulk of her subjects were, no\ndoubt, highly pleased to find themselves spared on all occasions of\nexpence. And it served at the same time, to gratify their natural envy\nof the great, to find, that _their_ fortunes were first and principally\nsacrificed to the public service. Nay, I am not sure that the very\nrapacity of her nature, in the sale of her offices, was any objection\nwith the people at large, or even the lower gentry of the kingdom.\nFor these, having no pretensions themselves to those offices, would\nbe well enough pleased to see them not _bestowed_ on their betters,\nbut dearly purchased by them. And then this traffic at court furnished\nthe inferior gentry with a pretence for making the most of their\nmagistracies. This practice at least must have been very notorious\namongst them, when a facetious member of the lower house could define\na justice of peace to be, \u201cA living creature, that for half a dozen of\nchickens, will dispense with a whole dozen of penal statutes[104].\u201d\nBut, however this be, the queen\u2019s ends, in every view, were abundantly\nanswered. She enriched herself: she gained the affections of the\npeople, and depressed and weakened the nobility. And by all these ways\nshe effectually provided for, what she had ever most at heart, her own\nsupreme and uncontrolled authority.\n\nAnd is that to be wondered at in a great prince? returned Dr.\nARBUTHNOT. Or, to take the matter in the light you place it, what if\nthe queen had so much of her sex[105] and family in her disposition, as\nto like well enough to have her own way, is this such a crime as you\nwould make of it? If she loved power, it was not to make a wanton or\noppressive use of it. And if all princes knew as well to bound their\nown wills, as she did, we should not much complain of their impatience\nto be under the control of their subjects.\n\nI am sorry, said Mr. ADDISON, that the acts of her reign will not allow\nme to come into this opinion of her moderation. On the other hand, her\ngovernment appears to me, in many instances, OPPRESSIVE, and highly\nprejudicial to the ancient rights and privileges of her people. For\nwhat other construction can we make of her frequent interposition\nto restrain the counsels of their representatives in parliament:\nthreatening some, imprisoning others, and silencing all with the\nthunder of her prerogative? Or, when she had suffered their counsels to\nripen into bills, what shall we say of her high and mighty rejection of\nthem, and that not in single and extraordinary cases, but in matters\nof ordinary course, and by dozens? I pass by other instances. But was\nher _moderation_ seen in dilapidating the revenues of the church; of\nthat church, which she took under the wing of her supremacy, and would\nbe thought to have sheltered from all its enemies[106]. The honest\narchbishop PARKER, I have heard, ventured to remonstrate against this\nabuse, the cognizance of which came so directly within his province.\nBut to what effect, may be gathered, not only from the continuance\nof these depredations, but her severe reprehension of another of her\nbishops, whom she threatened with an oath to UNFROCK\u2014that was her\nmajesty\u2019s own word\u2014if he did not immediately give way to her princely\nextortions.\n\nIt may be hardly worth while to take notice of smaller matters. But\nwho does not resent her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of\nher servants as presumed to deviate, on any pretence, from her good\npleasure; nay, such as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it\nstood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, I know, may be\nsaid to excuse the proceedings against the queen of _Scots_. But the\nfate of DAVISON will reflect eternal dishonour on the policy, with\nwhich that measure was conducted.\n\nI run over these things hastily, continued Mr. ADDISON, and in no\ngreat order: but you will see what to conclude from these hints; which\ntaken together, I believe, may furnish a proper answer to the most\nconsiderable parts of your apology.\n\nTo sum it up in few words. Those two great events of her time, THE\nESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, and THE TRIUMPH OVER THE POWER OF\nSPAIN, cast an uncommon lustre on the reign of ELIZABETH. Posterity,\ndazzled with these obvious successes, went into an excessive admiration\nof her personal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more,\nis the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on\nthe one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that, on\nthe first glance, her government should appear able, and even glorious.\nYet, in looking into particulars, we find that much is to be attributed\nto fortune, as well as skill; and that her glory is even lessened by\nconsiderations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it.\nThe difficulties, she had to encounter, were great. Yet these very\ndifficulties, of themselves, created the proper means to surmount\nthem. They sharpened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the\naffections, of a whole people. The name of her great enemy on the\ncontinent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in\nreality, much less than it appeared. The _Spanish_ empire was corrupt\nand weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a secret\neven to the _Spaniard_ himself. In the mean time, the confidence,\nwhich the opinion of great strength inspires, was a favourable\ncircumstance. It occasioned a remissness and neglect of counsel\non one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost vigilance and\ncircumspection on the other. But this was not all. The religious feuds\nin the Low Countries\u2014the civil wars in _France_\u2014the distractions of\n_Scotland_\u2014all concurred to advance the fortunes of ELIZABETH. Yet all\nhad, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis of her fate, and, as\nit fell out, of her glory, if the conspiring elements themselves had\nnot fought for her.\n\nSuch is the natural account of her foreign triumphs. Her domestic\nsuccesses admit as easy a solution. Those external dangers themselves,\nthe genius of the time, the state of religious parties, nay, the very\nfactions of her court, all of them directly, or by the slightest\napplication of her policy, administered to her greatness. Such was the\ncondition of the times, that it forced her to assume the resemblance,\nat least, of some popular _virtues_: and so singular her fortune, that\nher very _vices_ became as respectable, perhaps more useful to her\nreputation, than her virtues. She was vigilant in her counsels; careful\nin the choice of her servants; courteous and condescending to her\nsubjects. She appeared to have an extreme tenderness for the interests,\nand an extreme zeal for the honour, of the nation. This was the bright\nside of her character; and it shone the brighter from the constant and\nimminent dangers, to which she was exposed. On the other hand, she was\ncholeric, and imperious; jealous, timid, and avaricious: oppressive,\nas far as she durst; in many cases capricious, in some tyrannical.\nYet these vices, some of them sharpened and refined her policy, and\nthe rest, operating chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents,\nstrengthened her authority, and rooted her more firmly in the hearts\nof the people. The mingled splendour of these qualities, good and bad\n(for even her worst had the luck, when seen but on one side, or in\nwell-disposed lights to look like good ones) so far dazzled the eyes\nof all, that they did not, or would not, see many outrageous acts of\ntyranny and oppression.\n\nAnd thus it hath come to pass that, with some ability, more cunning,\nand little real virtue, the name of ELIZABETH is, by the concurrence\nof many accidental causes, become the most revered of any in the long\nroll of our princes. How little she merited this honour, may appear\nfrom this slight sketch of her character and government. Yet, when all\nproper abatement is made in both, I will not deny her to have been\na great, that is, a _fortunate_, queen; in this, perhaps, the most\nfortunate, that she has attained to so unrivalled a glory with so few\npretensions to deserve it.\n\nAnd so, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, you have concluded your invective in\nfull form, and rounded it, as the ancient orators used to do, with\nall the advantage of a peroration. But, setting aside this trick of\neloquence, which is apt indeed to confound a plain man, unused to such\nartifices, I see not but you have left the argument much as you took\nit up; and that I may still have leave to retain my former reverence\nfor the good old times of queen ELIZABETH. It is true, she had some\nfoibles. You have spared, I believe, none of them. But, to make amends\nfor these defects, let but the history of her reign speak for her, I\nmean in its own artless language, neither corrupted by flattery, nor\ntortured by invidious glosses; and we must ever conceive of her, I\nwill not say as the most faultless, perhaps not the most virtuous,\nbut surely the most able, and, from the splendour of some leading\nqualities, the most glorious of our _English_ monarchs.\n\nTo give you my notion of her in few Words.\u2014For the dispute, I find,\nmust end, as most others usually do, in the simple representation of\nour own notions.\u2014She was discreet, frugal, provident, and sagacious;\nintent on the pursuit of her great ends, _the establishment of\nreligion_, and _the security and honour of her people_: prudent in\nthe choice of the best _means_ to effect them, the employment of able\nservants, and the management of the public revenue; dexterous at\nimproving all advantages which her own wisdom or the circumstances\nof the times gave her: fearless and intrepid in the execution of\ngreat designs, yet careful to unite the deepest foresight with her\nmagnanimity. If she seemed AVARICIOUS, let it be considered that the\nnicest frugality was but necessary in her situation: if IMPERIOUS,\nthat a female government needed to be made respectable by a shew\nof authority: and if at any time OPPRESSIVE, that the _English_\nconstitution, as it then stood, as well as her own nature, had a good\ndeal of that bias.\n\nIn a word, let it be remembered, that she had the honour of\nruling[107], perhaps of forming, the wisest, the bravest, the most,\nvirtuous people, that have adorned any age or country; and that she\nadvanced the glory of the _English_ name and that of her own dignity to\na height, which has no parallel in the annals of our nation.\n\nMr. DIGBY, who had been very attentive to the course of this debate,\nwas a little disappointed with the conclusion of it. He thought to have\nsettled his judgment of this reign by the information his two friends\nshould afford him. But he found himself rather perplexed by their\naltercations, than convinced by them. He owned, however, the pleasure\nthey had given him; and said, he had profited so much at least by the\noccasion, that, for the future, he should conceive with something less\nreverence of the great queen, and should proceed with less prejudice to\nform his opinion of her character and administration.\n\nMr. ADDISON did not appear quite satisfied with this sceptical\nconclusion; and was going to enforce some things, which he thought had\nbeen touched too slightly, when Dr. ARBUTHNOT took notice that their\nwalk was now at an end; the path, they had taken, having by this time\nbrought them round again to the walls of the castle. Besides, he said,\nhe found himself much wearied with this exercise; though the warmth\nof debate, and the opportunities he took of resting himself at times,\nhad kept him from complaining of it. He proposed, therefore, getting\ninto the coach as soon as possible; where, though the conversation was\nin some sort resumed, there was nothing material enough advanced on\neither side to make it necessary for me to continue this recital any\nfurther.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE V.\n\n  ON THE\n\n  CONSTITUTION\n\n  OF THE\n\n  ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.\n\n  BETWEEN\n\n  SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS,\n\n  AND\n\n  BISHOP BURNET.\n\n\n\n\n  DIALOGUE V.\n\n  ON THE CONSTITUTION OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.\n\n  SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BISHOP BURNET[108].\n\n\nTO DR. TILLOTSON.\n\nThough the principles of nature and common sense do fully authorise\nresistance to the civil magistrate in extreme cases, and of course\njustify the late Revolution to every candid and dispassionate man; yet\nI am sensible, my excellent friend, there are many prejudices which\nhinder the glorious proceedings in that affair from being seen in\ntheir true light. The principal of them, indeed, are founded on false\nsystems of policy, and those tied down on the consciences of men by\nwrong notions of religion. And such as these, no doubt, through the\nexperience of a better government, and a juster turn of thinking, which\nmay be expected to prevail in our times, will gradually fall away of\nthemselves.\n\nBut there is another set of notions on this subject, not so easy to be\ndiscredited, and which are likely to keep their hold on the minds even\nof the more sober and considerate sort of men. For whatever advantage\nthe cause of liberty may receive from general reasonings on the origin\nand nature of civil government, the greater part of our countrymen will\nconsider, and perhaps rightly, the inquiry into the constitution of\n_their_ own government, as a question of FACT; that must be tried by\nauthorities and precedents only; and decided at last by the evidence of\nhistorical testimony, not by the conclusions of philosophy or political\nspeculation.\n\nNow, though we are agreed that this way of managing the controversy\nmust, when fully and fairly pursued, be much in favour of the new\nsettlement, yet neither, I think, is it for every man\u2019s handling, nor\nis the evidence resulting from it of a nature to compel our assent. The\nargument is formed on a vast variety of particulars, to be collected\nonly from a large and intimate acquaintance with the antiquities,\nlaws, and usages of the kingdom. Our printed histories are not only\nvery short and imperfect; but the original records, which the curious\nhave in their possession, are either so obscure or so scanty, that a\nwilling adversary hath always in readiness some objection, or some\ncavil at least, to oppose to the evidence that may be drawn from them.\nBesides, appearances, even in the plainest and most unquestioned parts\nof our history, are sometimes so contradictory; arising either from\nthe tyranny of the prince, the neglect of the people, or some other\ncircumstance of the times; and, to crown all, the question itself hath\nbeen so involved by the disputations of prejudiced and designing men;\nthat the more intelligent inquirer is almost at a loss to determine for\nhimself, on which side the force of evidence lies.\n\nOn this account I have frequently thought with myself, that a right\ngood CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY of _England_ would be the noblest service\nthat any man, duly qualified for the execution of such a work, could\nrender to his country. For though, as I said, the subject be obscure in\nitself, and perplexed by the subtilties which contending parties have\ninvented for the support of their several schemes; yet, from all I have\nbeen able to observe in the course of my own reading, or conversation,\nthere is little doubt but that the form of the _English_ government\nhath, at all times, been FREE. So that, if such a history were drawn up\nwith sufficient care out of our authentic papers and public monuments,\nit would not only be matter of entertainment to the curious, but\nthe greatest security to every _Englishman_ of his religions and\ncivil rights. For what can be conceived, more likely to preserve and\nperpetuate these rights, than the standing evidence which such a work\nwould afford, of the genuine spirit and temper of the constitution? Of\nthe principles of freedom[109], on which it was formed, and on which\nit hath been continually and uniformly conducted? Our youth, who at\npresent amuse themselves with little more than the military part of our\nannals, would then have an easy opportunity of seeing to the bottom of\nall our civil and domestic broils. They would know on what pretences\nthe PREROGATIVE of our kings hath sometimes aspired to exalt itself\nabove controul; and would learn to revere the magnanimity of their\nforefathers, who as constantly succeeded in their endeavours to reduce\nit within the ancient limits and boundaries of the LAW. In a word,\nthey would no longer rest on the surface and outside, as it were, of\nthe _English_ affairs, but would penetrate the interior parts of our\nconstitution; and furnish themselves with a competent degree of civil\nand political wisdom; the most solid fruit that can be gathered from\nthe knowledge and experience of past times.\n\nAnd I am ready to think that such a provision as this, for the\ninstruction of the _English_ youth, may be the more requisite, on\naccount of that limited indeed, yet awful form of government, under\nwhich we live. For, besides the name, and other ensigns of majesty, in\ncommon with those who wear the most despotic crown, the whole execution\nof our laws, and the active part of government, is in the hands of the\nprince. And this pre-eminence gives him so respectable a figure in the\neyes of his subjects, and presents him so constantly, and with such\nlustre of authority, to their minds, that it is no wonder they are\nsometimes disposed to advance him, from the rank of first magistrate of\na free people, into that of supreme and sole arbiter of the laws.\n\nSo that, unless these prejudices are corrected by the knowledge of our\nconstitutional history, there is constant reason to apprehend, not only\nthat the royal authority may stretch itself beyond due bounds; but may\ngrow, at length, into that enormous tyranny, from which this nation\nhath been at other times so happily, and now of late so wonderfully,\nredeemed.\n\nBut I suffer myself to be carried by these reflexions much further than\nI designed. I would only say to you, that, having sometimes reflected\nvery seriously on this subject, it was with the highest pleasure I\nheard it discoursed of the other day by two of the most accomplished\nlawyers of our age: the venerable Sir JOHN MAYNARD, who, for a long\ncourse of years, hath maintained the full credit and dignity of his\nprofession; and Mr. SOMERS, who, though a young man, is rising apace,\nand with proportionable merits, into all the honours of it.\n\nI was very attentive, as you may suppose, to the progress of this\nremarkable conversation; and, as I had the honour to bear a full share\nin it myself, I may the rather undertake to give you a particular\naccount of it. I know the pleasure it will give you to see a subject,\nyou have much at heart, and which we have frequently talked over in the\nlate times, thoroughly, canvassed, and cleared up; as I think it must\nbe, to your entire satisfaction.\n\nIt was within a day or two after that great event, so pleasing to\nall true _Englishmen_, THE CORONATION OF THEIR MAJESTIES[110], that\nMr. SOMERS and I went; as we sometimes used, to pass an evening with\nour excellent friend, my Lord Commissioner[111]. I shall not need\nto attempt his character to you, who know him so well. It is enough\nto say, that his faculties and spirits are, even in this maturity of\nage, in great vigour. And it seems as if this joyful Revolution, so\nagreeable to his hopes and principles, had given a fresh spring and\nelasticity to both.\n\nThe conversation of course turned on the late august ceremony; the\nmention of which awakened a sort of rapture in the good old man, which\nmade him overflow in his meditations upon it. Seeing us in admiration\nof the zeal which transported him, \u201cBear with me, said he, my young\nfriends. Age, you know, hath its privilege. And it may be, I use it\nsomewhat unreasonably. But I, who have seen the prize of liberty\ncontending for through half a century, to find it obtained at last\nby a method so sure, and yet so unexpected, do you think it possible\nthat I should contain myself on such an occasion? Oh, if ye had lived\nwith me in those days, when such mighty struggles were made for public\nfreedom, when so many wise counsels miscarried, and so many generous\nenterprises concluded but in the confirmation of lawless tyranny; if,\nI say, ye had lived in those days, and now at length were able to\ncontrast with me, to the tragedies that were then acted, this safe,\nthis bloodless, this complete deliverance: I am mistaken, if the\nyoungest of you could reprove me for this joy, which makes me think I\ncan never say enough on so delightful a subject.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nReprove you, my lord? Alas! we are neither of us so unexperienced in\nwhat hath passed of late in these kingdoms, as not to rejoice with you\nto the utmost for this astonishing deliverance. You know I might boast\nof being among the first that wished for, I will not say projected, the\nmeasures by which it hath been accomplished. And for Mr. SOMERS, the\nchurch of _England_ will tell\u2014\u2014\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI confess, my warmest wishes have ever gone along with those who\nconducted this noble enterprise. And I pretend to as sincere a\npleasure as any man, in the completion of it. Yet, if we were not\nunreasonable at such a time, I might be tempted to mention one\ncircumstance, which, I know not how, a little abates the joy of these\ntriumphant gratulations.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nIs not the settlement then to your mind? Or hath any precaution been\nneglected, which you think necessary for the more effectual security of\nour liberties?\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nNot that. I think the provision for the people\u2019s right as ample as\nneeds be desired. Or, if any further restrictions on the crown be\nthought proper, it will now be easy for the people, in a regular\nparliamentary way, to effect it. What I mean is a consideration of much\nmore importance.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nThe pretended prince of WALES, you think, will be raising some\ndisturbance, or alarm at least, to the new government. I believe,\nI may take upon me to give you perfect satisfaction upon that\nsubject[112].\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nStill your conjectures fall short or wide of my meaning. Our new\nMAGNA CHARTA, as I love to call the _Declaration of Rights_, seems\na sufficient barrier against any future encroachments of the CROWN.\nAnd I think, the pretended prince of WALES, whatever be determined of\nhis birth, a mere phantom, that may amuse, and perhaps disquiet, the\nweaker sort for a while; but, if left to itself[113], will soon vanish\nout of the minds of the PEOPLE. Not but I allow that even so thin a\npretence as this may, some time or other, be conjured up to disturb the\ngovernment. But it must be, when a certain set of principles are called\nin aid to support it. And, to save you the further trouble of guessing,\nI shall freely tell you, what those _principles_ are.\u2014You will see, in\nthem, the ground of my present fears and apprehensions.\n\nIt might be imagined that so necessary a Revolution, as that which hath\ntaken place, would sufficiently approve itself to all reasonable men.\nAnd it appears, in fact, to have done so, now that the public injuries\nare fresh, and the general resentment of them strong and lively. But it\ntoo often happens, that when the evil is once removed, it is presently\nforgotten: and in matters of government especially, where the people\nrarely think till they are made to feel, when the grievance is taken\naway, the false system easily returns, and sometimes with redoubled\nforce, which had given birth to it.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nOne can readily admit the principles. But the conclusion, you propose\nto draw from them\u2014\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nThis very important one, \u201cThat, if the late change of government was\nbrought about, and can be defended only, on the principles of liberty;\nthe settlement, introduced by it, can be thought secure no longer than\nwhile those principles are rightly understood, and generally admitted.\u201d\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nBut what reason is there to apprehend that these principles, so\ncommonly professed and publickly avowed, will not continue to be kept\nup in full vigour?\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nBecause, I doubt, they are so commonly and publickly avowed, only to\nserve a present turn; and not because they come from the heart, or are\nentertained on any just ground of conviction.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nVery likely: and considering the pains that have been taken to possess\nthe minds of men with other notions of government, the wonder is, how\nthey came to be entertained at all. Yet surely the experience of better\ntimes may be expected to do much. Men will of course think more justly\non these subjects in proportion as they find themselves more happy. And\nthus the principles, which, as you say, were first pretended to out of\nnecessity, will be followed out of choice, and bound upon them by the\nconclusions of their own reason.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI wish your lordship be not too sanguine in these expectations. It is\nnot to be conceived how insensible the people are to the blessings they\nenjoy, and how easily they forget their past miseries. So that, if\ntheir principles have not taken deep root, I would not answer for their\ncontinuing much longer than it served their purpose to make a shew of\nthem.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nI must confess, that all my experience of mankind inclines me to this\nopinion. I could relate to you some strange instances of the sort\nMr. SOMERS hints at. But after all, Sir, you do not indulge these\napprehensions, on account of the general fickleness of human nature.\nYou have some more particular reasons for concluding that the system\nof liberty, which hath worked such wonders of late, is not likely to\nmaintain its ground amongst us.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI have: and I was going to explain those reasons, if my lord of\nSALISBURY had not a little diverted me from the pursuit of them.\n\nIt is very notorious from the common discourse of men even on this\ngreat occasion (and I wish it had not appeared too evidently in the\ndebates of the houses), that very many of us have but crude notions\nof the form of government under which we live, and which hath been\ntransmitted to us from our forefathers. I have met with persons of\nno mean rank, and supposed to be well seen in the history of the\nkingdom, who speak a very strange language. They allow, indeed, that\nsomething was to be done in the perilous circumstances into which we\nhad fallen. But, when they come to explain themselves, it is in a way\nthat leaves us no _right_ to do any thing; at least, not what it was\nfound expedient for the nation to do at this juncture. For they contend\nin so many words, \u201cthat the crown of _England is absolute_; that the\nform of government is an _entire and simple monarchy_; and that so it\nhath continued to be in every period of it down to the Abdication:\nthat the CONQUEST, at least, to ascend no higher, invested the FIRST\nWILLIAM in absolute dominion; that from him it devolved of course\nupon his successors; and that all the pretended rights of the people,\nthe GREAT CHARTERS of ancient and modern date, were mere usurpations\non the prince, extorted from him by the necessity of his affairs,\nand revocable at his pleasure: nay, they insinuate that parliaments\nthemselves were the creatures of his will; that their privileges were\nall derived from the sovereign\u2019s grant; and that they made no part in\nthe original frame and texture of the _English_ government.\n\nIn support of this extraordinary system, they refer us to the constant\ntenor of our history. They speak of the Conqueror, as proprietary of\nthe whole kingdom: which accordingly, they say, he parcelled out, as\nhe saw fit, in grants to his _Norman_ and _English_ subjects: that,\nthrough his partial consideration of the church, and an excessive\nliberality to his favoured servants, this distribution was so ill made,\nas to give occasion to all the broils and contentions that followed:\nthat the churchmen began their unnatural claim of independency on the\ncrown; in which attempt they were soon followed by the encroaching\nand too powerful barons: that, in these struggles, many flowers of\nthe crown were rudely torn from it, till a sort of truce was made,\nand the rebellious humour somewhat composed, by the extorted articles\nof RUNNING-MEDE: that these confusions, however, were afterwards\nrenewed, and even increased, by the contests of the two houses of YORK\nand LANCASTER: but that, upon the union of the roses in the person\nof HENRY VII, these commotions were finally appeased, and the crown\nrestored to its ancient dignity and lustre: that, indeed, the usage of\nparliaments, with some other forms of popular administration, which\nhad been permitted in the former irregular reigns, was continued; but\nof the mere grace of the prince, and without any consequence to his\nprerogative: that succeeding kings, and even HENRY himself, considered\nthemselves as possessed of an imperial crown; and that, though they\nmight sometimes condescend to take the advice, they were absolutely\nabove the control, of the people: in short, that the law itself was\nbut the will of the prince, declared in parliament; or rather solemnly\nreceived and attested there, for the better information and more\nentire obedience of the subject.\n\nThis they deliver as a just and fair account of the _English_\ngovernment; the genius of which, they say, is absolute and despotic in\nthe highest degree; as much so, at least, as that of any other monarchy\nin _Europe_. They ask, with an air of insult, what restraint our HENRY\nVIII, and our admired ELIZABETH, would ever suffer to be put on their\nprerogative; and they mention with derision the fancy of dating the\nhigh pretensions of the crown from the accession of the STUART family.\nThey affirm, that JAMES I, and his son, aimed only to continue the\ngovernment on the footing on which they had received it; that their\nnotions of it were authorized by constant fact; by the evidence of our\nhistories; by the language of parliaments; by the concurrent sense of\nevery order of men amongst us: and that what followed in the middle of\nthis century was the mere effect of POPULAR, as many former disorders\nhad been of PATRICIAN, violence. In a word, they conclude with saying,\nthat the old government revived again at the RESTORATION, just as, in\nlike circumstances, it had done before at the UNION of the two houses:\nthat, in truth, the voluntary desertion of the late king have given a\ncolour to the innovation of the present year; but that, till this new\nsettlement was made, the _English_ constitution, as implying something\ndifferent from pure monarchy, was an unintelligible notion, or rather a\nmere whimsy, that had not the least foundation in truth or history.\u201d\n\nThis is a summary of the doctrines, which, I doubt, are too current\namongst us. I do not speak of the bigoted adherents to the late king;\nbut of many cooler and more disinterested men, whose _religious_\nprinciples, as I suppose (for it appears it could not be their\n_political_), had engaged them to concur in the new settlement. You\nwill judge, then, if there be not reason to apprehend much mischief\nfrom the prevalence and propagation of such a system: a system, which,\nas being, in the language of the patrons of it, founded upon _fact_,\nis the more likely to impose upon the people; and, as referring to\nthe practice of ancient times, is not for every man\u2019s confutation.\nI repeat it, therefore; if this notion of the despotic form of our\ngovernment become general, I tremble to think what effect it may\nhereafter produce on the minds of men; especially when joined to that\nfalse tenderness, which the people of _England_ are so apt to entertain\nfor their princes, even the worst of them, under misfortune. I might\nfurther observe, that this prerogative system hath a direct tendency\nto produce, as well as heighten, this compassion to the sovereign. And\nI make no scruple to lay it before you with all its circumstances,\nbecause I know to whom I speak, and that I could not have wished for a\nbetter opportunity of hearing it confuted.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nI must own, though I was somewhat unwilling to give way to such\nmelancholy apprehensions at this time, I think with Mr. SOMERS, there\nis but too much reason to entertain them. For my own part, I am apt\nto look no further for the _right_ of the legislature to settle the\ngovernment in their own way, than their own free votes and resolutions.\nFor, being used to consider all political power as coming originally\nfrom the people, it seems to me but fitting that they should dispose\nof that power for their own use, in what hands, and under what\nconditions, they please. Yet, as much regard is due to established\nforms and ancient prescription, I think the matter of _fact_ of great\nconsequence; and, if the people in general should once conceive of\nit according to this representation, I should be very anxious for\nthe issue of so dangerous an opinion. I must needs, therefore, join\nvery entirely with Mr. SOMERS, in wishing to hear the whole subject\ncanvassed, or rather finally determined, as it must be, if Sir JOHN\nMAYNARD will do us the pleasure to acquaint us what his sentiments are\nupon it.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nTruly, my good friends, you have opened a very notable cause, and in\ngood form. Only, methinks, a little less solemnity, if you had so\npleased, might have better suited the occasion. Why, I could almost\nlaugh, to hear you talk of feats and dangers from a phantom of your\nown raising. I certainly believe the common proverb belies us; and\nthat old age is not that dastardly thing it hath been represented.\nFor, instead of being terrified by this conceit of a prescriptive\nright in our sovereigns to tyrannize over the subject, I am ready\nto think the contrary so evident from the constant course of our\nhistory, that the simplest of the people are in no hazard of falling\ninto the delusion. I should rather have apprehended mischief from other\nquarters; from the influence of certain speculative points, which\nhave been to successfully propagated of late; and chiefly from those\npernicious glosses, which too many of my order have made on the letter\nor the law, and too many of yours, my lord of SALISBURY, on that of\nthe gospel. Trust me, if the matter once came to a question of FACT,\nand the inquiry be only concerning ancient form and precedent, the\ndecision will be in our favour. And for yourselves, I assure myself,\nthis decision is already made. But since you are willing to put me upon\nthe task, and we have leisure enough for such an amusement, I shall\nvery readily undertake it. And the rather, as I have more than once in\nmy life had occasion to go to the bottom of this inquiry; and now very\nlately have taken a pleasure to reflect on the general evidence which\nhistory affords of our free constitution, and to review the scattered\nhints and passages I had formerly set down for my private satisfaction.\n\n\u201cI understand the question to be, not under what _form_ the government\nhath appeared at some particular conjunctures, but what we may conclude\nit to have been from the general current and tenor of our histories.\nMore particularly, I conceive, you would ask, not whether the\n_administration_ hath not at some seasons been DESPOTIC, but whether\nthe _genius_ of the government hath not at all times been FREE. Or, if\nyou do not think the terms, in which I propose the question, strict\nenough, you will do well to state it in your own way, that hereafter we\nmay have no dispute about it.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nI suppose, the question, as here put, is determinate enough for our\npurpose.\u2014Or, have you, Mr. SOMERS, any exceptions to make to it?\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI believe we understand each other perfectly well; the question being\nonly this, \u201cWhether there be any ground in history, to conclude that\nthe prince hath a constitutional claim to absolute uncontrolable\ndominion; or, whether the liberty of the subject be not essential\nto every different form, under which the _English_ government hath\nappeared?\u201d\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nYou expect of me then to shew, in opposition to the scheme just now\ndelivered by you, that neither from the original constitution of the\ngovernment, nor from the various forms (for they have, indeed, been\nvarious) under which it hath been administered, is there any reason\nto infer, that the _English_ monarchy is, or of right ought to be,\ndespotic and unlimited.\n\nNow this I take to be the easiest of all undertakings; so very easy,\nthat I could trust a plain man to determine the matter for himself\nby the light that offers itself to him from the slightest of our\nhistories. \u2019Tis true, the deeper his researches go, his conviction\nwill be the clearer; as any one may see by dipping into my friend NAT.\nBACON\u2019S discourses; where our free constitution is set forth with that\nevidence, as must for ever have silenced the patrons of the other\nside, if he had not allowed himself to strain some things beyond what\nthe truth, or indeed his cause, required. But, saving to myself the\nbenefit of his elaborate work, I think it sufficient to take notice,\nthat the system of liberty is supported even by that short sketch of\nour history, which Mr. SOMERS hath laid before us; and in spite of the\ndisguises, with which, as he tells us, the enemies of liberty have\nendeavoured to cloak it.\n\nYou do not, I am sure, expect from me, that I should go back to the\nelder and more remote parts of our history; that I should take upon\nme to investigate the scheme of government, which hath prevailed in\nthis kingdom from the time that the _Roman_ power departed from us; or\nthat I should even lay myself out in delineating, as many have done,\nthe plan of the _Saxon_ constitution: though such an attempt might not\nbe unpleasing, nor altogether without its use, as the _principles_\nof the _Saxon_ policy, and in some respects the _form_ of it, have\nbeen constantly kept up in every succeeding period of the _English_\nmonarchy. I content myself with observing, that the spirit of liberty\nwas predominant in those times: and, for proof of it, appeal at present\nonly to one single circumstance, which you will think remarkable. Our\n_Saxon_ ancestors conceived so little of government, by the will of the\nmagistrate, without fixed laws, that LAGA, or LEAGA, which in their\nlanguage first and properly signified the same as LAW with us, was\ntransferred[114] very naturally (for language always conforms itself\nto the genius, temper, and manners of a nation) to signify a country,\ndistrict, or province; these good people having no notion of any\ninhabited country not governed by laws. Thus D\u00c6NA-LAGA; MERKENA-LAGA;\nand WESTSEXENA-LAGA, were not only used in their laws and history to\nsignify the _laws_ of the _Danes_, _Mercians_, and _West-Saxons_, but\nthe _countries_ likewise. Of which usage I could produce to you many\ninstances, if I did not presume that, for so small a matter as this,\nmy mere word might be taken.\n\nYou see then how fully the spirit of liberty possessed the very\nlanguage of our _Saxon_ forefathers. And it might well do so; for it\nwas of the essence of the _German_ constitutions; a just notion of\nwhich (so uniform was the genius of the brave people that planned them)\nmay be gathered, you know, from what the _Roman_ historians, and, above\nall, from what TACITUS hath recorded of them.\n\nBut I forbear so common a topic: and, besides, I think myself acquitted\nof this task, by the prudent method, which the defenders of the regal\npower have themselves taken in conducting this controversy. For, as\nconscious of the testimony which the _Saxon_ times are ready to bear\nagainst them, they are wise enough to lay the foundation of their\nsystem in the CONQUEST. They look, no higher than that event for the\norigin of the _constitution_, and think they have a notable advantage\nover us in deducing their notion of the _English_ government from\nthe form it took in the hands of the _Norman_ invader. But is it not\npleasant to hear these men calumniate the improvements that have been\nmade from time to time in the plan of our civil constitution with\nthe name of _usurpations_, when they are not ashamed to erect the\n_constitution_ itself on what _they_ must esteem, at least, a great and\nmanifest usurpation?\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nCONQUEST, I suppose, in their opinion, gives _right_. And since\nan inquiry into the origin of a constitution requires that we fix\n_somewhere_, considering the vast alterations introduced by the\nConquest, and that we have never pretended to reject, but only to\nimprove and complete, the duke of NORMANDY\u2019S establishment; I believe\nit may be as proper to set out from that \u00e6ra as from any other.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nYour lordship does not imagine that I am about to excuse myself from\nclosing with them, even on their own terms. I intended that question\nonly as a reproach to the persons we have to deal with; who, when\na successful event makes, or but seems to make, for their idol of\nan absolute monarchy, call it a regular establishment: whereas a\nrevolution brought about by the justest means, if the cause of liberty\nreceive an advantage by it, shall be reviled by the name of usurpation.\nBut let them employ what names they please, provided their facts be\nwell grounded. We will allow them to dignify the _Norman_ settlement\nwith the title of CONSTITUTION. What follows? That _despotism_ was of\nthe essence of that constitution? So they tell us indeed; but without\none word of proof, for the assertion. For what! do they think the\nname of conquest, or even the _thing_, implies an absolute unlimited\ndominion? Have they forgotten that WILLIAM\u2019S claim to the crown was,\nnot _conquest_ (though it enabled him to support his claim), but\n_testamentary succession_: a title very much in the taste of that\ntime[115], and extremely reverenced by our _Saxon_ ancestors? That,\neven waving this specious claim, he condescended to accept the crown,\nas a free gift; and by his coronation-oath submitted himself to the\nsame terms of administration, as his predecessors? And that, in one\nword, he confirmed the _Saxon_ laws, at least before he had been many\nyears in possession of his new dignity[116].\n\nIs there any thing in all this that favours the notion of his erecting\nhimself, by the sole virtue of his victory at _Hastings_, into an\nabsolute lord of the conquered country? Is it not certain that he bound\nhimself, as far as oaths and declarations could bind him, to govern\naccording to law; that he could neither touch the honours nor estates\nof his subjects but by legal trial; and that even the many forfeitures\nin his reign are an evidence of his proceeding in that method?\n\nStill we are told \u201cof his parcelling out the whole land, upon his own\nterms, to his followers;\u201d and are insulted \u201cwith his famous institution\nof feudal tenures.\u201d But what if the _former_ of these assertions\nbe foreign to the purpose at least, if not false; and the _latter_\nsubversive of the very system it is brought to establish? I think, I\nhave reason for putting both these questions. For, what if he parcelled\nout most, or all, of the lands of _England_ to his followers? The fact\nhas been much disputed. But be it, as they pretend, that the property\nof all the soil in the kingdom had changed hands: What is that to\nus, who claim under our _Norman_, as well as _Saxon_, ancestors?\nFor the question, you see, is about the form of government settled\nin this nation at the time of the Conquest. And they argue with us,\nfrom a supposed act of tyranny in the Conqueror, in order to come at\nthat settlement. The _Saxons_, methinks, might be injured, oppressed,\nenslaved; and yet the constitution, transmitted to us through his own\n_Normans_, be perfectly free.\n\nBut their _other_ allegation is still more unfortunate. \u201cHe instituted,\nthey say, the feudal law.\u201d True. But the feudal law, and absolute\ndominion, are two things; and, what is more, perfectly incompatible.\n\nI take upon me to say, that I shall make out this point in the clearest\nmanner. In the mean time, it may help us to understand the nature of\nthe feudal establishment, to consider the practice of succeeding times.\nWhat that was, our adversaries themselves, if you please, shall inform\nus. Mr. SOMERS hath told their story very fairly; which yet amounts\nonly to this, \u201cThat, throughout the _Norman_ and _Plantagenet_ lines,\nthere was one perpetual contest between the prince and his feudatories\nfor law and liberty:\u201d an evident proof of the light in which our\nforefathers regarded the _Norman_ constitution. In the competition\nof the two ROSES, and perhaps before, they lost sight indeed of this\nprize. But no sooner was the public tranquillity restored, and the\ncontending claims united in HENRY VII. than the old spirit revived.\nA legal constitution became the constant object of the people; and,\nthough not always avowed, was, in effect, as constantly submitted to by\nthe sovereign.\n\nIt may be true, perhaps, that the ability of _one_ prince[117], the\nimperious carriage of _another_[118], and the generous intrigues of a\n_third_[119]; but, above all, the condition of the times, and a sense\nof former miseries, kept down the spirit of liberty for some reigns,\nor diminished, at least, the force and vigour of its operations. But\na passive subjection was never acknowledged, certainly never demanded\nas a matter of right, till ELIZABETH now and then, and King JAMES, by\ntalking continually in this strain, awakened the national jealousy;\nwhich proved so uneasy to himself, and, in the end, so fatal to his\nfamily.\n\nI cannot allow myself to mention these things more in detail to you,\nwho have so perfect a knowledge of them. One thing only I insist upon,\nthat, without connecting the system of liberty with that of prerogative\nin our notion of the _English_ government, the tenor of our history is\nperfectly unintelligible; and that no consistent account can be given\nof it, but on the supposition of a LEGAL LIMITED CONSTITUTION.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nYet that constitution, it will be thought, was at least ill defined,\nwhich could give occasion to so many fierce disputes, and those carried\non through so long a tract of time, between the crown and the subject.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nThe fault, if there was one, lay in the original plan of the\nconstitution itself; as you will clearly see when I have opened the\nnature of it, that is, when I have explained the genius, views, and\nconsequences of the FEUDAL POLICY. It must, however, be affirmed, that\nthis policy was founded in the principles of freedom, and was, in\ntruth, excellently adapted to an active, fierce, and military people;\nsuch as were all those to whom these western parts of _Europe_ have\nbeen indebted for their civil constitutions. But betwixt the burdensome\nservices imposed on the subject by this tenure, or which it gave at\nleast the pretence of exacting from him, and the too great restraint\nwhich an unequal and disproportioned allotment of feuds to the greater\nbarons laid on the sovereign; but above all, by narrowing the plan of\nliberty too much; and, while it seemed to provide for the dependency\nof the prince on one part of his subjects, by leaving both him and\nthem in a condition to exercise an arbitrary dominion over all others:\nhence it came to pass that the feudal policy naturally produced the\nstruggles and convulsions, you spoke of, till it was seen in the end to\nbe altogether unsuited to the circumstances of a rich, civilized, and\ncommercial people. The event was, that the inconveniences, perceived in\nthis form of government, gradually made way for the introduction of a\nbetter; which was not, however, so properly a new form, as the old one\namended and set right; cleared of its mischiefs and inconsistencies,\nbut conducted on the same principles as the former, and pursuing the\nsame end, though by different methods.\n\nIt is commonly said, \u201cThat the feudal tenures were introduced at the\nConquest.\u201d But how are we to understand this assertion? Certainly, not\nas if the whole system of military services had been created by the\nConqueror; for they were essential to all the _Gothic_ or _German_\nconstitutions. We may suppose then, that they were only new-modelled\nby this great prince. And who can doubt that the form, which was now\ngiven to them, would be copied from that which the _Norman_ had seen\nestablished in his own country? It would be copied then from the proper\nFEUDAL FORM; the essence of which consisted in the perpetuity of the\nfeud[120]; whereas these military tenures had been elsewhere temporary\nonly, or revocable at the will of the lord.\n\nBut to enter fully into the idea of the feudal constitution; to see\nat what time, and in what manner, it was introduced: above all, to\ncomprehend the reasons that occasioned this great change; it will be\nconvenient to look back to the estate of _France_, and especially of\n_Normandy_, where this constitution had, for some years, taken place\nbefore it was transferred to us at the Conquest.\n\nUnder the first princes of the _Carlovingian_ line, the lands of\n_France_ were of two kinds, ALLODIAL, and BENEFICIARY. The allodial,\nwere estates of inheritance; the persons possessing them, were called\nHOMMES LIBRES. The beneficiary, were held by grants from the crown. The\npersons holding immediately under the emperor, were called LEUDES; the\nsub-tenants, VASSALS.\n\nFurther, the allodial lands were alienable, as well as hereditary.\nThe beneficiary were properly neither. They were held for life, or a\nterm of years, at the will of the lord, and reverted to him on the\nexpiration of the term for which they were granted.\n\nI do not stay to explain these institutions minutely. It is of more\nimportance to see the alterations that were afterwards made in them.\nAnd the FIRST will be thought a strange one.\n\nThe possessors of allodial lands, in _France_, were desirous to have\nthem changed into _tenures_. They who held of the crown _in capite_\nwere entitled to some distinctions and privileges, which the allodial\nlords wished to obtain; and therefore many of them surrendered their\nlands to the emperor, and received them again of him, in the way of\n_tenure_. This practice had taken place occasionally from the earliest\ntimes: but under CHARLES the Bald, it became almost general; and\n_free-men_ not only chose to hold of the emperor, but of other lords.\nThis last was first allowed, in consequence of a treaty between the\nthree brothers, after the battle of _Fontenay_ in 847.\n\nBut these _free-men_ were not so ill-advised as to make their estates\nprecarious, or to accept a life estate instead of an inheritance.\nIt was requisite they should hold for a perpetuity. And this I take\nto have been the true origin of hereditary feuds. Most probably, in\nthose dangerous times, little people could not be safe without a lord\nto protect them: and the price of this protection was the change of\npropriety into tenure.\n\nThe SECOND change was by a law made under the same emperor in the year\n877, the last of his reign. It was then enacted, that beneficiary\nestates held under the crown should descend to the sons of the present\npossessors: yet not, as I conceive, to the eldest son; but to him whom\nthe emperor should chuse; nor did this law affect the estates only, but\n_offices_, which had hitherto been also beneficiary; and so the sons of\ncounts, marquises, _&c._ (which were all names of offices, not titles\nof honour) were to succeed to the authority of their fathers, and to\nthe benefice annexed to it. The new feuds, created in allodial lands,\nhad, I suppose, made the emperor\u2019s tenants desirous of holding on the\nsame terms; and the weakness of the reigning prince enabled them to\nsucceed in this first step, which prepared the way for a revolution of\nstill more importance. For,\n\nThe THIRD change, by which the inheritance of beneficiary lands and\noffices was extended to perpetuity, and the possession rendered\nalmost independent of the crown, was not, we may be sure, effected at\nonce, but by degrees. The family of CHARLEMAGNE lost the empire: they\nresisted with great difficulty the incursions of the _Normans_; and,\nin the year 911, _Normandy_ was granted to them as an hereditary fee.\nThe great lords made their advantage of the public calamities; they\ndefended the king on what terms they pleased; if not complied with\nin their demands, they refused their assistance in the most critical\nconjunctures: and before the accession of HUGH CAPET, had entirely\nshaken off their dependence on the crown. For it is, I think, a vulgar\nmistake to say, that this great revolution was the effect of HUGH\u2019S\npolicy. On the contrary, the independence of the nobles, already\nacquired, was, as it seems to me, the cause of his success. The prince\nhad no authority left, but over his own demesnes; which were less\nconsiderable than the possessions of some of his nobles. HUGH had one\nof the largest fiefs: and for this reason, his usurpation added to the\npower of the crown, instead of lessening it, as is commonly imagined.\nBut to bring back the feuds of the other nobles to their former\nprecarious condition was a thing impossible: his authority was partly\nsupported by superior wisdom, and partly by superior strength, his\nvassals being more numerous than those of any other lord.\n\nI cannot tell if these foreigners, when they adopted the feudal plan,\nwere immediately aware of all the consequences of it. An hereditary\ntenure was, doubtless, a prodigious acquisition; yet the advantage\nwas something counter-balanced by the great number of impositions\nwhich the nature of the change brought with it. These impositions\nare what, in respect of the lord, are called his FRUITS of tenure;\nsuch as WARDSHIP, MARRIAGE, RELIEF, and other services: and were\nthe necessary consequence of the king\u2019s parting with his arbitrary\ndisposal of these tenures. For now that the right of inheritance was\nin the tenant, it seemed but reasonable, and, without this provision,\nthe feudal policy could not have obtained its end, that the prince,\nin these several ways, should secure to himself the honour, safety,\nand defence, which the very nature of the constitution implied and\nintended. Hence hereditary feuds were very reasonably clogged with the\nobligations. I have mentioned; which, though trifling in comparison\nwith the disadvantages of a precarious tenure, were yet at least some\ncheck on the independency acquired. However, these services, which were\ndue to the king under the new model, were also due to the tenant in\nchief from those who held of him by the like tenure. And so the barons,\nor great proprietaries of land, considering more perhaps the subjection\nof their own vassals, than that by which themselves were bound to their\nsovereign, reckoned these burdens as nothing, with respect to what they\nhad gained by an hereditary succession.\n\nThe example of these _French_ feudataries, we may suppose, would be\ncatching. We accordingly find it followed, in due time, in _Germany_;\nwhere CONRAD II.[121] granted the like privilege of _successive_\ntenures, and at the pressing instance of his tenants.\n\nI thought it material to remind you of these things; because they prove\nthe feudal institution on the continent to have been favourable to the\ncause of liberty; and because it will abate our wonder to find it so\nreadily accepted and submitted to here in _England_.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nThe account you have given, and, I dare say, very truly, of the origin\nof feuds in _France_ and _Germany_, is such as shews them to have\nbeen an extension of the people\u2019s liberty. There is no question that\nhereditary alienable estates have vastly the preference to beneficiary.\nBut the case, I suspect, was different with us in _England_. The great\noffices of state, indeed, in this country, as well as in _France_, were\nbeneficiary. But, if I do not mistake, the lands of the _English_,\nexcept only the church-lands, were all allodial. And I cannot think it\ncould be for the benefit of the _English_ to change their old _Saxon_\npossessions, subject only to the famous triple obligation, for these\nnew and burdensome tenures.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nStrange as it may appear, we have yet seen that the _French_ did not\nscruple to make that exchange even of their allodial estates. But to\nbe fair, there was a great difference, as you well observe, in the\ncircumstances of the two people. All the lands in _England_ were, I\nbelieve, allodial, in the _Saxon_ times: while a very considerable\nproportion of those in _France_ were beneficiary.\n\nAnother difference, also, in the state of the two countries, is worth\nobserving. In _France_, the allodial lands (though considerable in\nquantity) were divided into small portions. In _England_, they seem\nto have been in few hands; the greater part possessed by the King\nand his _Thanes_; some smaller parcels by the lesser _Thanes_; and a\nvery little by the _Ceorles_. The consequence was, that, though the\nallodial proprietors in _France_ were glad to renounce their property\nfor tenure, in order to secure the protection they much wanted; yet\nwith us, as you say, there could not be any such inducement for the\ninnovation. For, the lands being possessed in large portions by the\nnobility and gentry, the allodial lords in _England_ were too great to\nstand in need of protection. Yet from this very circumstance, fairly\nattended to, we shall see that the introduction of the feudal tenures\nwas neither difficult nor unpopular. The great proprietors of land\nwere, indeed, too free and powerful, to be bettered by this change. But\ntheir tenants, that is, the bulk of the people, would be gainers by it.\nFor these tenants were, I believe, to a man beneficiaries. The large\nestates of the _Thanes_ were granted out in small portions to others,\neither for certain quantities of corn or rent, reserved to the lord,\nor on condition of stipulated services. And these grants, of whichever\nsort they were, were either at pleasure, or at most for a limited term.\nSo that, though the proprietors of land in _England_ were so much\nsuperior to those in _France_; yet the tenants of each were much in the\nsame state; that is, they possessed beneficiary lands on stipulated\nconditions.\n\nWhen, therefore, by right of forfeiture, the greater part of the lands\nin _England_ fell, as they of course would do, into the power of the\nking (for they were in few hands, and those few had either fought at\n_Hastings_, or afterwards rebelled against him), it is easy to see\nthat the people would not be displeased to find themselves, instead of\nbeneficiary tenants[122], feudatary proprietors.\n\nI say this on supposition that these great forfeited estates and\nsigniories, so bountifully bestowed by the Conqueror on his favourite\n_Normans_, were afterwards, many of them at least, granted out in\nsmaller parcels to _English_ sub-tenants. But if these sub-tenants\nwere also _Normans_ (though the case of the _English_ or old _Saxon_\nfreeholders was then very hard), the change of allodial into feudatary\nestates is the more easily accounted for.\n\nThe main difficulty would be with the churchmen; who (though the\ngreatest, and most of them were, perhaps, _Normans_ too) were well\nacquainted with the _Saxon_ laws, and for special reasons were much\ndevoted to them. They were sensible that their possessions had been\nheld, in the _Saxon_ times, in FRANC-ALMOIGN: a sort of tenure, they\nwere not forward to give up for this of _feuds_. \u2019Tis true, the burdens\nof these tenures would, many of them, not affect them. But then neither\ncould they reap the principal fruit of them, the fruit of inheritance.\nThey, besides, considered every restraint on their privileges as\nimpious; and took the subjection of the ecclesiastic to the secular\npower, which the feudal establishment was to introduce, for the vilest\nof all servitudes. Hence the churchmen were, of all others, the most\naverse from this law[123]. And their opposition might have given the\nConqueror still more trouble, if the suppression of the great Northern\nrebellion had not furnished him with the power, and (as many of them\nhad been deeply engaged in it) with the pretence, to force it upon\nthem. And thus, in the end, it prevailed universally, and without\nexception.\n\nI would not go further into the history of these tenures. It may appear\nfrom the little I have said of them, that the feudal system was rather\nimproved and corrected by the duke of NORMANDY, than originally planted\nby him in this kingdom: that the alteration made in it was favourable\nto the public interest; and that our _Saxon_ liberties were not so\nproperly restrained, as extended by it. It is of little moment to\ninquire whether the nation was won, or forced, to a compliance with\nthis system. It is enough to say, that, as it was accepted by the\nnation, so it was in itself no servile establishment, but essentially\nfounded in the principles of liberty. The duties of lord and feudatary\nwere reciprocal and acknowledged: services on the one part, and\nprotection on the other. The institution was plainly calculated for the\njoint-interest[124] of both parties, and the benefit of the community;\nthe proper notion of the feudal system being that \u201cof a confederacy\nbetween a number of military persons, agreeing on a certain limited\nsubordination and dependence on their chief, for the more effectual\ndefence of his and their lives, territories, and possessions.\u201d\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI have nothing to object to your account of the feudal constitution.\nAnd I think you do perfectly right, to lay the main stress on the\ngeneral nature and genius of it; as by this means you cut off those\nfruitless altercations, which have been raised, concerning the personal\ncharacter of the _Norman_ Conqueror. Our concern is not with him, but\nwith the government he established. And if that be free, no matter\nwhether the founder of it were a tyrant. But, though I approve your\nmethod, I doubt there is some defect in your argument. _Freedom_ is a\nterm of much latitude. The _Norman_ constitution may be free in one\nsense, as it excludes the sole arbitrary dominion of one man; and\nyet servile enough in another, as it leaves the government in few\nhands. For it follows, from what I understand of the feudal plan, that\nthough its genius be indeed averse from absolute monarchy, yet it is\nindulgent enough to absolute _aristocracy_. And the notion of each is\nequally remote from what we conceive of true _English_ liberty.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nIt is true, the proper feudal form, especially as established in this\nkingdom, was in a high degree oligarchical. It would not otherwise,\nperhaps, have suited to the condition of those military ages. Yet the\nprinciples it went upon, were those of public liberty, and generous\nenough to give room for the extension of the system itself, when a\nchange of circumstances should require it.\u2014But your objection will\nbest be answered by looking a little more distinctly into the nature of\nthese tenures.\n\nI took notice that the feudal system subjected the CHURCH more\nimmediately to the civil power: and laid the foundation of many\nservices and fruits of tenure to which the LAY-FEUDATARIES in the\n_Saxon_ times had been altogether strangers. It is probable that\nall the consequences of this alteration were not foreseen. Yet the\nchurchmen were pretty quick-sighted. And the dislike, they had\nconceived of the new establishment, was the occasion of those\nstruggles, which continued so long between the mitre and crown, and\nwhich are so famous more especially in the early parts of our history.\nThe cause of these ecclesiastics was a bad one. For their aim was, as\nis rightly observed by the advocates for the prerogative, to assert an\nindependency on the state; and for that purpose the pope was made a\nparty in the dispute; by whose intrigues it was kept up in one shape\nor other till the total renunciation of the papal power. Thus far,\nhowever, the feudal constitution cannot be blamed. On the contrary, it\nwas highly serviceable to the cause of liberty, as tending only to hold\nthe ecclesiastic, in a due subordination to the civil, authority.\n\nThe same thing cannot be said of the other instance, I mean the _fruits\nof tenure_, to which the lay-fees were subjected by this system. For\nhowever reasonable, or rather necessary, those _fruits_ might be, in\na feudal sense, and for the end to which the feudal establishment was\ndirected, yet, as the _measure_ of these fruits, as well as the manner\nof exacting them, was in a good degree arbitrary, and too much left to\nthe discretion of the sovereign, the practice, in this respect, was\nsoon found by the tenants in chief to be an intolerable grievance.\nHence that other contest, so memorable in our history, betwixt the king\nand his barons: in which the former, under the colour of maintaining\nhis feudal rights, laboured to usurp an absolute dominion over the\npersons and properties of his vassals; and the latter, impatient of\nthe feudal burdens, or rather of the king\u2019s arbitrary exactions under\npretence of them, endeavoured to redeem themselves from so manifest an\noppression.\n\nIt is not to be denied, that, in the heat of this contest, the barons\nsometimes carried their pretensions still further, and laboured in\ntheir turn to usurp on the crown, in revenge for the oppressions\nthey had felt from it. However, their first contentions were only\nfor a mitigation of the feudal system. It was not the character of\nthe _Norman_ princes to come easily into any project that was likely\nto give the least check to their pretensions. Yet the grievances,\ncomplained of, were in part removed, in part moderated, by HENRY the\nFirst\u2019s and many other successive charters: though the last blow was\nnot given to these feudal servitudes till after the Restoration, when\nsuch of them as remained, and were found prejudicial to the liberty of\nthe subject, were finally abolished.\n\nThus we see that ONE essential defect in the feudal policy, considered\nnot as a military, but civil institution, was, the too great power\nit gave the sovereign in the arbitrary impositions, implied in this\ntenure. ANOTHER was accidental. It arose from the disproportionate\nallotment of those feuds, which gave the greater barons an ascendant\nover the prince, and was equally unfavourable to the cause of liberty.\nFor the bounty of the duke of NORMANDY, in his distribution of the\nforfeited estates and signiories to his principal officers, had been so\nimmense[125], that their share of influence in the state was excessive,\nand intrenched too much on the independency of the crown and the\nfreedom of the people. And this undue poize in the constitution, as\nwell as the tyranny of our kings, occasioned the long continuance of\nthose civil wars, which for many ages harrassed and distressed the\nnation. The evil, however, in the end, brought on its own remedy. For\nthese princely houses being much weakened in the course of the quarrel,\nHENRY VII. succeeded, at length, to the peaceable possession of the\ncrown. And by the policy of this prince, and that of his successor,\nthe barons were brought so low as to be quite disabled from giving any\ndisturbance to the crown for the future.\n\nIt appears then that TWO great defects in the feudal plan of\ngovernment, as settled amongst us, were, at length, taken away. But a\nTHIRD, and the greatest defect of all, was the narrowness of the plan\nitself, I mean when considered as a system of CIVIL polity; for, in its\nprimary martial intention, it was perfectly unexceptionable.\n\nTo explain this matter, which is of the highest importance, and will\nfurnish a direct answer to Mr. SOMERS\u2019 objection, we are to remember\nthat in the old feudal policy the king\u2019s barons, that is, such as\nheld _in capite_ of the crown by barony or knight\u2019s service, were the\nking\u2019s, or rather the kingdom\u2019s, great council. No public concerns\ncould be regularly transacted, without their consent[126]; though\nthe lesser barons, or tenants by knight\u2019s service, did not indeed so\nconstantly appear in the king\u2019s court, as the greater barons; and\nthough the public business was sometimes even left to the ordinary\nattendants on the king, most of them churchmen. It appears that,\ntowards the end of the Conqueror\u2019s reign, the number of these tenants\nin chief was about 700; who, as the whole property of the kingdom was,\nin effect, in their power, may be thought a no unfit representative\n(though this be no proper _feudal_ idea) of the whole nation. It was\nso, perhaps, in those rude and warlike times, when the strength of the\nnation lay entirely in the soldiery; that is, in those who held by\nmilitary services, either immediately of the crown, or of the mesne\nlords. For the remainder of the people, whom they called tenants in\nsocage, were of small account; being considered only in the light\nof servants, and contributing no otherwise to the national support\nthan by their cultivation of the soil, which left their masters at\nleisure to attend with less distraction on their military services.\nAt least, it was perfectly in the genius of the feudal, that is,\nmilitary constitutions, to have little regard for any but the men of\narms; and, as every other occupation would of course be accounted base\nand ignoble, it is not to be wondered that such a difference was made\nbetween the condition of _pr\u00e6dial_ and _military_ tenures.\n\nHowever, a policy, that excluded such numbers from the rank and\nprivileges of citizens, was so far a defective one. And this defect\nwould become more sensible every day, in proportion to the growth of\narts, the augmentation of commerce, and the security the nation found\nitself in from foreign dangers. The ancient military establishment\nwould now be thought unjust, when the exclusive privileges of the\nswordsmen were no longer supported by the necessities of the public,\nand when the wealth of the nation made so great a part of the force of\nit. Hence arose an important change in the legislature of the kingdom,\nwhich was much enlarged beyond its former limits. But this was done\ngradually; and was more properly an extension than violation of the\nancient system.\n\nFirst, the number of tenants in chief, or the king\u2019s freeholders, was\nmuch increased by various causes, but chiefly by the alienation which\nthe greater barons made of their fees. Such alienation, though under\nsome restraint, seems to have been generally permitted in the _Norman_\nfeuds; I mean, till MAGNA CHARTA and some subsequent statutes laid it\nunder particular limitations. But, whether the practice were regular or\nnot, it certainly prevailed from the earliest times; especially on some\nmore extraordinary occasions. Thus, when the fashionable madness of the\nCROISADES had involved the greater barons in immense debts, in order\nto discharge the expences of these expeditions, they alienated their\nfees, and even dismembered them; that is, they parted with their right\nin them, and made them over in small parcels to others, to hold of the\nsuperior lord. And what these barons did from necessity, the crown\nitself did, out of policy: for the _Norman_ princes, growing sensible\nof the inconvenience of making their vassals too great, disposed of\nsuch estates of their barons as fell in to them by forfeiture, and were\nnot a few, in the same manner. The consequence of all this was, that,\nin process of time, the lesser military tenants _in capite_ multiplied\nexceedingly. And, as many of them were poor, and unequal to a personal\nattendance in the court of their lord, or in the common council of the\nkingdom (where of right and duty they were to pay their attendance),\nthey were willing, and it was found convenient to give them leave,\nto appear in the way of _representation_. And this was the origin of\nwhat we now call THE KNIGHTS OF THE SHIRES; who, in those times, were\nappointed to represent, not all the free-holders of counties, but the\nlesser tenants of the crown only. For these not attending in person,\nwould otherwise have had no place in the king\u2019s council.\n\nThe rise of CITIZENS AND BURGESSES, that is, representatives of the\ncities and trading towns, must be accounted for somewhat differently.\nThese had originally been in the jurisdiction, and made part of the\ndemesnes, of the king and his great lords. The reason of which appears\nfrom what I observed of the genius of the feudal policy. For, little\naccount being had of any but martial men, and trade being not only\ndishonourable, but almost unknown in those ages; the lower people,\nwho lived together in towns, most of them small and inconsiderable,\nwere left in a state of subjection to the crown, or some other of the\nbarons, and exposed to their arbitrary impositions and talliages.\n\nBut this condition of burghers, as it sprang from the military genius\nof the nation, could only be supported by it. When that declined\ntherefore, and, instead of a people of soldiers, the commercial spirit\nprevailed, and filled our towns with rich traders and merchants, it\nwas no longer reasonable, nor was it the interest of the crown, that\nthese communities and bodies of men should be so little regarded. On\nthe contrary, a large share of the public burdens being laid upon them,\nand the frequent necessities of the crown, especially in foreign wars,\nor in the king\u2019s contentions with his barons, requiring him to have\nrecourse to their purses, it was naturally brought about that those, as\nwell as the tenants _in capite_, should, in time, be admitted to have a\nshare in the public councils.\n\nI do not stay to trace the steps of this change. It is enough to say,\nthat arose insensibly and naturally out of the growing wealth and\nconsequence of the trading towns; the convenience the king found in\ndrawing considerable sums from them, with greater ease to himself, and\nless offence to the people; and, perhaps, from the view of lessening by\ntheir means the exorbitant power and influence of the barons.\n\nFrom these, or the like reasons, the great towns and cities, that\nbefore were royal demesnes, part of the king\u2019s private patrimony, and\ntalliable by him at pleasure, were allowed to appear in his council\nby their deputies, to treat with him of the proportion of taxes to be\nraised on them, and, in a word, to be considered it the same light as\nthe other members of that great assembly.\n\nI do not inquire when this great alteration was first made. I find it\nsubsisting at least under EDWARD III. And from that time, there is no\ndispute but that the legislature, which was originally composed of the\nsovereign and his feudal tenants, included also the representatives of\nthe counties, and of the royal towns and cities. To speak in our modern\nstyle, the HOUSE OF COMMONS was, now, formed. And by this addition, the\nglorious edifice of _English_ liberty was completed.\n\nI am sensible, I must have wearied you with this deduction, which can\nbe no secret to either of you. But it was of importance to shew, that\nthe constitution of _England_, as laid in the feudal tenures, was\nessentially free; and that the very changes it hath undergone, were the\nnatural and almost unavoidable effects of those tenures. So that what\nthe adversaries of liberty object to us, as usurpations on the regal\nprerogative, are now seen to be either the proper result of the feudal\nestablishment, or the most just and necessary amendments of it.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nI have waited with much pleasure for this conclusion, which entirely\ndiscredits the notion of an absolute, despotic government. I will not\ntake upon me to answer for Mr. _Somers_, whose great knowledge in the\nlaws and history of the kingdom enables him to see further into the\nsubject than I do; but to me nothing appears more natural or probable\nthan this account of the rise and progress of the _English_ monarchy.\nOne difficulty, in particular, which seemed to embarrass this inquiry,\nyou have entirely removed, by shewing how, from the aristocratical form\nwhich prevailed in the earlier times, the more free and popular one of\nour days hath gradually taken place, and that without any violence to\nthe antient constitution[127].\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nAt least, my lord, with so little, that we may, perhaps, apply to\nthe _English_ government what the naturalists observe of the HUMAN\nBODY[128]; that, when it arrives at its full growth, it does not\nperhaps retain a single particle of the matter it originally set out\nwith; yet the alteration hath been made so gradually and imperceptibly,\nthat the system is accounted the same under all changes. Just so, I\nthink, we seem to have shaken off the constituent parts of the FEUDAL\nCONSTITUTION; but, liberty having been always the informing principle,\ntime and experience have rather completed the old system, than created\na new one: and we may account the present and _Norman_ establishment\nall one, by the same rule as we say that HERCULES, when he became the\ndeliverer of oppressed nations, was still the same with him who had\nstrangled serpents in his cradle.\n\n\nSIR. J. MAYNARD.\n\nI know not what fanciful similes your younger wit may delight in. I\ncontent myself with observing, that the two great points, which they,\nwho deny the liberty of the subject, love to inculcate, and on which\nthe plausibility of all their reasonings depends, are, THE SLAVISH\nNATURE OF THE FEUDAL CONSTITUTION, and THE LATE RISE OF THE HOUSE OF\nCOMMONS. And I have taken up your time to small purpose, if it doth\nnot now appear, that the _former_ of these notions is false, and the\n_latter_ impertinent. If the learned inquirers into this subject had\nconsidered that the question is concerning the freedom itself of our\nconstitution, and not the most convenient form under which it may be\nadministered, they must have seen that, the feudal law, though it\nnarrowed the system of liberty, was founded in it; that the spirit of\nfreedom is as vital in this form, and the principles it goes upon as\nsolid, as in the best-formed republic; and that _villanage_ concludes\nno more against the _feudal_, than _slavery_ against the _Greek_ or\n_Roman_, constitutions.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nThat is, Sir JOHN, you make _liberty_ to have been the essence of all\nTHREE; though, to the perfection of an equal commonwealth, you suppose\nit should have been further spread out and dilated: as they say of\n_frankincense_ (if you can forgive another allusion), which, when\nlying in the lump, is of no great use or pleasure; but, when properly\ndiffused, is the sweetest of all odours. But you was going on with the\napplication of your principles.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nI was going to say that, as many have been misled by wrong notions of\nthe _feudal tenures_, others had erred as widely in their reasonings\non _the late origin of the lower house of parliament_. How have we\nheard some men triumph, in dating it no higher than the reign of\nEDWARD III? Let the fact be admitted. What follows? That this house\nis an usurpation on the prerogative? Nothing less. It was gradually\nbrought forth by time, and grew up under the favour and good liking\nof our princes[129]. The constitution itself supposed the men of\ngreatest consequence in the commonwealth to have a seat in the\nnational councils. Trade and agriculture had advanced vast numbers\ninto consequence, that before were of small account in the kingdom.\nThe public consideration was increased by their wealth, and the public\nnecessities relieved by it. Were these to remain for ever excluded from\nthe king\u2019s councils? or was not that council, which had liberty for its\nobject, to widen and expand itself in order to receive them? It did, in\nfact, receive them with open arms; and, in so doing, conducted itself\non the very principles of the old feudal policy.\n\nIn short, the _feudal constitution_, different from all others that\nhuman policy is acquainted with, was of such a make, that it readily\ngave way, and fitted itself to the varying situations of society:\nnarrow and contracted, when the public interest required a close\nconnexion between the governor and the governed; large and capacious,\nwhen the same interest required that connexion to be loosened. Just as\nthe skin (if you will needs have a comparison), the natural cincture\nof the body, confines the young limbs with sufficient tightness,\nand yet widens in proportion to their growth, so as to let the\ndifferent parts of the body play with ease, and obtain their full\nsize and dimensions. Whereas the other policies, that have obtained\nin the world, may be compared to those artificial coverings, which,\nbeing calculated only for one age and size; grow troublesome and\ninsupportable in any other; and yet cannot, like these, be thrown off\nand supplied by such as are more suitable and convenient; but are worn\nfor life, though with constant, or rather increasing, uneasiness.\n\nThis then being the peculiar prerogative of the feudal policy, I think\nwe may say with great truth, not that the House of Commons violated\nthe constitution, but, on the contrary, that the constitution itself\ndemanded, or rather generated, the House of Commons.\n\nSo that I cannot by any means commend the zeal which some have shewn\nin seeking the origin of this house in the _British_ or even _Saxon_\nannals. Their aim was, to serve the cause of liberty; but, it must be\nowned, at the expence of truth, and, as we now perceive, without the\nleast necessity.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nIt hath happened then in this, as in so many other instances, that an\nexcellent cause hath suffered by the ill judgment of its defenders.\nBut, when truth itself had been disgraced by one sort of men in being\nemployed by them to the worst purposes, is it to be wondered that\nothers should not acknowledge her in such hands, but be willing to look\nout for her in better company?\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nLet us say, my lord, they should have acknowledged her in whatever\ncompany she was found; and the rather, as ill-applied truths are seen\nto be full as serviceable to a bad cause, as downright falsehoods.\nBesides, this conduct had not only been fairer, but more politic. For\nwhen so manifest a truth was rejected, it was but natural to suspect\nfoul play in the rest, and that none but a bad cause could want to be\nsupported by so disingenuous a management.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI think so, Sir JOHN; and there is this further use of such candor,\nthat it cuts off at once the necessity of long and laboured researches\ninto the dark parts of our history; and so not only shortens the\ndebate, but renders it much more intelligible to the people.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nI was aware of that advantage, and am therefore not displeased that\ntruth allowed me to make use of it.\u2014But to resume the main argument;\nfor I have not yet done with my evidence for the freedom of our\nexcellent constitution:\u2014It seemed of moment to shew, from the nature\nand consequences of the _Norman_ settlement, that the _English_\ngovernment was essentially free. But, because the freest form of\ngovernment may be tamely given up and surrendered into the hands of a\nmaster, I hold it of consequence to prove, that the _English_ spirit\nhath always been answerable to the constitution, and that even the\nmost insidious attempts on their liberties have never failed to awaken\nthe resentment of our generous forefathers. In a word, I would shew\nthat the jealously, with which the _English_ have ever guarded the\nnational freedom, is at once a convincing testimony of their _right_,\nand of their constant _possession_ of it.\n\nAnd though I might illustrate this argument by many other instances, I\nchuse to insist only on ONE, THEIR PERPETUAL OPPOSITION TO THE CIVIL\nAND CANON LAWS; which, at various times and for their several ends, the\ncrown and church have been solicitous to obtrude on the people.\n\nTo open the way to this illustration, let it be observed that, from the\ntime of HONORIUS, that is, when the _Roman_ authority ceased amongst\nus, the _Saxon_ institutions, incorporated with the old _British_\ncustoms, were the only standing laws of the kingdom. These had been\ncollected and formed into a sort of digest by EDWARD the Confessor; and\nso great was the nation\u2019s attachment to them, that WILLIAM himself was\nobliged to ratify them, at the same time that the feudal law itself was\nenacted. And afterwards, on any attempt to innovate on those laws, we\nhear of a general outcry and dissatisfaction among the people: which\njealousy of theirs was not without good grounds; as we may see from\nan affair that happened in the Conqueror\u2019s own reign, and serves to\nillustrate the policy of this monarch.\n\nIt had been an old custom, continued through the _Saxon_ times, for\nthe bishops and sheriffs to sit together in judicature in the county\ncourts. This had been found a very convenient practice; for the\npresence of the churchmen gave a sanction to the determinations of\nthe temporal courts, and drew an extraordinary reverence towards them\nfrom the people. Yet we find it abolished by the Conqueror; who, in a\nrescript to the bishop of _Lincoln_, ordained that, for the future,\nthe bishops and aldermen of the shires should have separate courts\nand separate jurisdictions. The pretence for this alteration was the\ndistinct nature of the two judicatures, and the desire of maintaining\na strict conformity to the canons of the church. The real design was\nmuch deeper. There is no question but WILLIAM\u2019S inclinations, at least,\nwere for arbitrary government; in which project his _Norman_ lawyers,\nit was hoped, might be of good use to him. But there was a great\nobstacle in his way. The churchmen of those times had incomparably\nthe best knowledge of the _Saxon_ laws. It matters not, whether those\nchurchmen were _Normans_, or not. They were equally devoted, as I\nobserved before, to the _Saxon_ laws, with the _English_; as favouring\nthat independency, they affected, on the civil power. Besides, in\nthe Confessor\u2019s time, many and perhaps the greatest of the churchmen\nhad been _Normans_; so that the study of the _Saxon_ laws, from the\ninterest they promised themselves in them, was grown familiar to the\nrising ecclesiastics of that country. Hence, as I said, the churchmen,\nthough _Normans_, were well instructed in the spirit and genius of the\n_Saxon_ laws; and it was not easy for the king\u2019s glossers to interpret\nthem to their own mind, whilst the bishops were at hand to refute and\nrectify their comments.\n\nBesides, the truth is (and my lord of SALISBURY will not be displeased\nwith me for telling it), the ecclesiastics of that time were much\nindevoted to the court. They considered the king as the wickedest of\nall tyrants. He had brought them into subjection by their baronies, and\nhad even set the pope himself at defiance. In this state of things,\nthere was no hope of engaging the clergy in his plot. But when a\nseparation of the two tribunals was made, and the civil courts were\nsolely administered by his own creatures, the laws, it was thought,\nwould speak what language he pleased to require of them.\n\nSuch appears to have been the design of this prince in his famous\ndistinction of the ecclesiastic and temporal courts. It was so artfully\nlaid, and so well coloured, that the laity seem to have taken no\numbrage at it. But the clergy saw his drift; and their zeal for the\nancient laws, as well as their resentments, put them upon contriving\nmethods to counteract it. They hit upon a very natural and effectual\none. In a word, they all turned common lawyers; and so found means of\nintroducing themselves into the civil courts. This expedient succeeded\nso well, and was so generally relished, that the clergy to a man almost\nin the next reign were become professors of the common law; NULLUS\nCLERICUS NISI CAUSIDICUS, as WILLIAM of _Malmesbury_ takes care to\ninform us[130].\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nWhatever their motive might be, the churchmen, I perceive, interposed\nvery seasonably in the support of our civil liberties. It was a\ngenerous kind of revenge, methinks, to repay the king\u2019s tyranny over\nthe church by vindicating the authority of the _English_ laws.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nIt was so; and for this good service, I let them pass without any\nharsher reflection. Though the true secret is, perhaps, no more than\nthis: Their main object was the church, of whose interests, as is\nfitting, we will allow them to be the most competent judges. And,\nas these inclined them, they have been, at different junctures, the\ndefenders or oppressors of civil liberty.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nAt _some_ junctures, it may be, they have. But, if you insist on so\ngeneral a censure, I must intreat Mr. SOMERS, once more, to take upon\nhim the defence of our order.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nAll I intended by this instance, was, to shew the spirit of the\n_Saxon_ laws, which could excite the jealousy of the prince, and\ndeserve, at such a season, the patronage of the clergy. It seems,\nhowever, for once, as if they had a little misconceived their true\ninterests. For the distinction of the two judicatures, which occasioned\ntheir resentment, was, in the end, a great means of the hierarchical\ngreatness and independency.\n\nMatters continued on this footing during the three first of the\n_Norman_ reigns. The prince did his utmost to elude the authority of\nthe _English_ laws; and the nation, on the other hand, laboured hard to\nconfirm it. But a new scene was opened under King STEPHEN, by means of\nthe _Justinian_ laws; which had lately been recovered in _Italy_, and\nbecame at once the fashionable study over all _Europe_. It is certain,\nthat the Pandects were first brought amongst us in that reign; and that\nthe reading of them was much favoured by Archbishop THEOBALD[131],\nunder whose encouragement they were publicly read in _England_ by\nVACARIUS, within a short time after the famous IRNERIUS had opened his\nschool at _Bologna_. There is something singular in the readiness with\nwhich this new system of law was embraced in these Western parts of\n_Europe_. But my friend Mr. SELDEN used to give a plausible account of\nit. It was, he said[132], in opposition to INNOCENT II, who was for\nobtruding on the Christian states the _decretals_, as laws; manifestly\ncalculated for the destruction of the civil magistrate\u2019s power. And\nwhat seems to authorize the opinion of my learned friend, is, that\nthe popes very early took the alarm, and, by their decrees, forbad\nchurchmen to teach the civil law: as appears from the constitution of\nALEXANDER III, so early as the year 1163, in the council of TOURS; and\nafterwards from the famous decretal of SUPER-SPECULA by HONORIUS III,\nin 1219, in which the clergy of all denominations, seculars as well as\nregulars, were prohibited the study of it. And it was, doubtless, to\ndefeat the mischief which the popes apprehended to themselves, from\nthe credit of the imperial laws, that GRATIAN was encouraged, about\nthe same time, to compose and publish his DECREE; which, it is even\nsaid[133], had the express approbation of Pope EUGENIUS.\n\nLet us see, now, what reception this newly-recovered law, so severely\ndealt with by the pope, and so well entertained by the greatest part of\n_Europe_, had in _England_.\n\nVACARIUS had continued to teach it for some time, in the archbishop\u2019s\npalace at _Lambeth_, to great numbers, whom first, the novelty of the\nstudy, and then, the fashion of the age, had drawn about him. The fame\nof the teacher was high, and the new science had made a great progress,\nwhen on a sudden it received a severe check, and from a quarter\nwhence one should not naturally expect it. In short, the king himself\ninterdicted the study of it. Some have imagined, that this inhibition\nwas owing to the spite he bore to archbishop THEOBALD. But the truer\nreason seems to be, that the canon law was first read by VACARIUS at\nthe same time, and under colour of the imperial. I think we may collect\nthus much very clearly from JOHN OF SALISBURY, who acquaints us with\nthis edict. For he considers it as an offence against the church, and\nexpressly calls the prohibition, an IMPIETY[134].\n\nIt is true, the decretals of GRATIAN were not yet published. But Ivo\nhad made a collection of them in the reign of HENRY I; and we may be\nsure that some code of this sort would privately go about amongst the\nclergy, from what was before observed of the pains taken by INNOCENT\nII, to propagate the decretals. We may further observe, that THEOBALD\nhad been in high favour with INNOCENT; and that his school, at\n_Lambeth_, was opened immediately on his return from _Rome_, whither he\nhad been to receive his pall from this pope, on his appointment to the\nsee of _Canterbury_[135]. All which makes it probable, that STEPHEN\u2019S\ndispleasure was not so much at the civil, as _canon_ law, which he\nmight well conclude had no friendly aspect on his sovereignty.\n\nAnd we have the greater reason to believe that this was the fact, from\nobserving what afterwards happened in the reign of HENRY III, when\na prohibition of the same nature was again issued out against the\nteachers of the _Roman_ laws in _London_[136]. The true cause of the\nroyal mandate is well known. GREGORY IX had just then published a new\ncode of the decretals; which, like all former collections of this sort,\nwas calculated to serve the papal interest, and depress the rights of\nprinces.\n\nHowever, these edicts, if we suppose them levelled against the civil\nlaw, had no effect, any more than those of the popes ALEXANDER and\nHONORIUS, before mentioned. For the imperial law, being generally well\nreceived by the princes of _Europe_, presently became a kind of _Jus\ngentium_. And the clergy, who aspired to power and dignities, either\nabroad or at home, studied it with an inconceivable rage; insomuch,\nthat ROGER BACON tells us, that, in his time for forty years together,\nthe seculars, who were the ecclesiastics employed in business, never\npublished a single treatise in divinity[137].\n\nThe truth is, whatever shew the popes or our own princes might make,\nat times, of discountenancing the civil law, it was not the design of\neither absolutely and universally to suppress it. It was properly, not\nthe civil, but the canon law, which was discountenanced by our kings.\nAnd the case of the popes was, that, when they found the imperial law\nopposed to the _common_, they were ready to favour it; when it was\nopposed to the _canon_, and brought that into neglect, they forbad\necclesiastics the study of it.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nIn the mean time the poor people, methinks, were in a fine condition,\nbetween two laws, the one founded on civil, and the other on\necclesiastical, tyranny. If either had prevailed, there had been an end\nof their liberties.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nCertainly their situation was very critical. Yet in the end it was\nprecisely this situation that saved them. For betwixt these contentions\nof the crown and mitre, each endeavouring to extend its dominion over\nthe other, the people, who were of course to be gained by either side\nin its distress, found means to preserve themselves from both.\n\nTo see how this happened, we must remember, what appears indeed from\nthe two edicts of STEPHEN and HENRY, that the king himself was a\nbulwark betwixt them and the papal power. And when the king in his turn\nwanted to exalt his prerogative over all, the church very naturally\ntook the alarm, as we saw in the case of WILLIAM\u2019S separation of the\ntwo tribunals. And thus it happened, as NAT. BACON observes[138],\n\u201cThat many times the pope and the clergy became protectors of the\npeople\u2019s liberties, and kept them safe from the rage of kings.\u201d The\ngreatest danger was, when the two powers chanced to unite in one common\ndesign against them; as they did in their general inclination for the\nestablishment of the civil law. But here the people had the courage\nalways to defend themselves; and with that wisdom too, as demonstrates\ntheir attention to the cause of civil liberty, and the vigilance with\nwhich they guarded even its remotest outworks.\n\nOf their steady and watchful conduct, in this respect, I shall mention\nsome of the many memorable examples, that occur in our history.\n\nI have said that from the time of STEPHEN, notwithstanding his famous\nedict, the imperial laws were the chief and favourite study of the\nclergy. They had good reason for applying themselves so closely to this\nscience, and still further views than their own immediate advancement.\nThey wanted to bring those laws into the civil courts, and to make\nthem the standing rule of public administration; not merely from\ntheir good-will to the papal authority, which would naturally gain\nan advantage by this change, but for the sake of controlling the too\nprincely barons, and in hopes, no doubt, that the imperial would in due\ntime draw the canon laws into vogue along with them. Such, I think,\nwere at least the secret designs of the ruling clergy; and they did not\nwait long before they endeavoured to put their project in execution.\nThe plot was admirably laid, and with that deep policy as hath kept it,\nI believe, from being generally understood to this day.\n\nThe great men of that time were, we may be sure, too like the great\nmen of every other, to be very scrupulous about the commission of\nthose vices to which they were most inclined. The truth is, their\nprofligacy was in proportion to their greatness and their ignorance.\nThey indulged themselves in the most licentious amours, and even prided\nthemselves in this licence. The good churchmen, no doubt, lamented this\ncorruption of manners; but, as they could not reform, they resolved at\nleast to draw some emolument to themselves from it. The castles of the\nbarons, they saw, were full of bastards. Nay, the courtesy of that time\nhad so far dignified their vices, that the very same was had in honour.\nEGO GULIELMUS BASTARDUS, is even the preamble to one of WILLIAM the\nFirst\u2019s charters.\n\nYet, as respectable as it was become, there was one unlucky check\non this favourite indulgence: and this, with the barons leave, the\nconsiderate bishops would presently take off. Subsequent marriage,\nby the imperial as well as canon laws, legitimated bastards, as to\nsuccession; whereas the common law kept them eternally in their\nstate of bastardy. It is not to be doubted, but the barons would be\nsensible enough of this restraint. They earnestly wished to get rid\nof it. And could any thing bid so fair to recommend the imperial law\nto their good liking, as the tender of it for so desirable a purpose?\nAt a parliament, therefore, under HENRY III[139], _Rogaverunt omnes\nepiscopi, ut consentirent quod nati ante matrimonium essent legitimi_.\nWhat think ye now of this general supplication of the hierarchy?\nWhat could the barons do but comply with it, especially as it was so\nkindly intended for their relief, and the proposal was even made with\na delicacy that might enable them to come into it with a good grace,\nand without the shame of seeming to desire it? All this is very true.\nYet the answer of the virtuous barons is as follows: _Omnes comites et\nbarons un\u00e2 voce responderunt_, QUOD NOLUMUS LEGES ANGLI\u00c6 MUTARI.\n\nWe see then what stuck with them. These barons, as licentious as they\nwere, preferred their liberty to their pleasure. The bishops, they\nknew, as partisans of the pope, were for subjecting the nation to\nthe imperial and papal laws. They offered, indeed, to begin with a\ncircumstance very much to their taste. But if they accepted the benefit\nof them in one instance, with what decency could they object to them\nin others? They determined therefore to be consistent. They rejected\na proposition, most agreeable in itself, lest their acceptance of it\nshould make way for the introduction of foreign laws; whose very genius\nand essence, they well knew, was arbitrary, despotic power. Their\nanswer speaks their sense of this matter, NOLUMUS LEGES ANGLI\u00c6 MUTARI.\nThey had nothing to object to the proposal itself. But they were afraid\nfor the constitution.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI doubt, Sir JOHN, my lord of SALISBURY will bring a fresh complaint\nagainst you, for this liberty with the bishops. But I, who shall not\nbe thought wanting in a due honour for that bench, must needs confess\nmyself much pleased, as well with the novelty, as justice of this\ncomment. I have frequently considered this famous reply of the old\nbarons. But I did not see to the bottom of the contrivance. Their\naversion to the imperial laws, as you say, must have been very great,\nto have put them on their guard against so inviting a proposal.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nOne thing, however, is forgotten or dissembled in this account, that\nthe law of JUSTINIAN, which allows the privilege of legitimation\nto subsequent marriage, is grounded on some reasons that might,\nperhaps, recommend it to the judgment, as well as interest of the old\nprelates. Besides, they doubtless found themselves much distressed\nby the contrariety of the two laws in this instance. For the ground\nof their motion, as I remember, was, _Quod esset secundum communem\nformam ecclesi\u00e6_. But, to deal ingenuously with you, Sir JOHN, you have\ndressed up your hypothesis very plausibly. And I, who am no advocate\nfor the civil or ecclesiastical laws, in this or any instance where\nthey clash with those of my country, can allow your raillery on HENRY\u2019S\ngood bishops, if it were only that I see it makes so much for your\ngeneral argument.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nYour lordship may the rather excuse this liberty with the _church_,\nas I propose, in due time, to deal as freely with WESTMINSTER-HALL;\na similar plot, which I shall have occasion to mention presently,\nhaving been formed against the ancient constitution by the men of our\nprofession.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nIn the mean time, Sir JOHN, you must give me leave, in quality of\nadvocate for the church, to observe one thing, that does the churchmen\nhonour. It is, that, in these attempts on the constitution, the judges\nand great officers of the realm, who in those times were of the clergy,\nconstantly took the side of the _English_ laws; as my Lord COKE\nhimself, I remember, takes notice in his commentary on this statute of\nMERTON.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nI believe the observation is very just. But I should incline to impute\nthis integrity, not to the influence of church principles, but those\nof the common law, and so turn your compliment to the honour of our\nprofession instead of theirs, if it were not too clear in fact that\nevery profession, in its turn, hath been liable to this charge of\ncorruption.\n\nBut I was going on with my proofs of the national aversion to the\nimperial law.\n\nThe next shall be taken from that famous dispute concerning the\nsuccession to the crown of _Scotland_ in the reign of EDWARD I. For a\nquestion arising about the kind of law by which the controversy should\nbe decided, and it being especially debated, whether the _C\u00e6sarean_\nlaw, as a sort of _jus gentium_, ought not in such a cause to have the\npreference to the law of _England_; it was then unanimously determined\nby the great council of NORHAM, that the authority of the _C\u00e6sarean_\nlaw should by no means be admitted; NE INDE MAJESTATIS ANGLICAN\u00c6 JURI\nFIERET DETRIMENTUM[140].\n\nThis determination was public, and given on a very solemn occasion.\nAnd in general we may observe, that at the junctures when the state\nhath been most jealous of its liberty and honour, it hath declared\nthe loudest against the _imperial laws_: as in the WONDER-WORKING\nparliament under RICHARD II, when the duke of _Gloucester_ accused the\narchbishop of _York_, the duke of _Ireland_, and other creatures of\nthe king, of high treason. The charge was so fully proved, that the\ncourt had no other way of diverting the storm, than by pretending an\nirregularity in the forms of procedure. To this end the lawyers were\nconsulted with, or more properly directed. I will disguise nothing.\nThey descended so much from the dignity of their profession, as to act\nin perfect subserviency to the views of the court; and therefore gave\nit as their opinion, that the proceedings against the lords were of\nno validity, as being contrary to the forms prescribed by the _civil\nlaw_. The barons took themselves to be insulted by these shifts of the\nlawyers. They insisted that the proceedings were agreeable to their own\ncustoms, and declared roundly that they would never suffer _England_ to\nbe governed by the _Roman_ civil law[141].\n\nWhat think ye now of these examples? Are they not a proof that the\nspirit of liberty ran high in those times, when neither the intrigues\nof churchmen nor the chicane of lawyers could put a stop to it? It\nseems as if no direct attempts on the constitution could have been\nmade with the least appearance of success; and that therefore the\nabettors of arbitrary power were obliged to work their way obliquely,\nby contriving methods for the introduction of a foreign law.\n\nIn this project they had many advantages, which nothing but\nan unwearied zeal in the cause of liberty could have possibly\ncounteracted. From the reign of STEPHEN to that of EDWARD III, that\nis, for the space of near 200 years, the _Roman_ law had been in great\ncredit[142]. All the learning of the times was in the clergy, and that\nlearning was little more than the imperial and canon laws. The fact is\nso certain, that some of the clergy themselves, when in an ill temper,\nor off their guard, complain of it in the strongest terms. And to see\nthe height to which this humour was carried, not the seculars only who\nintended to rise by them, but the very monks in their cells studied\nnothing but these laws[143]. To complete the danger, the magistracies\nand great offices of the kingdom were filled with churchmen[144].\n\nWho would expect, now, with those advantages, but that the _Roman_\nlaw would have forced its way into our civil courts? It did indeed\ninsinuate itself there as it were by stealth, but could never appear\nwith any face of authority. The only service, that would be accepted\nfrom it, was that of illustration only in the course of their\npleadings, whilst the lawyers quoted occasionally from the INSTITUTES,\njust as they might have done from any other ancient author[145].\nYet, so long as the churchmen presided in the courts of justice,\nthis intruder was to be respected; and it is pleasant to observe the\nwire-drawing of some of our ablest lawyers, in their endeavours to make\nthe policy of _England_ speak the language of _Rome_.\n\nMR. SELDEN\u2019S dissertation on FLETA[146], which lies open before me,\naffords a curious instance. The civil law says, \u201cPopulus ei [C\u00e6sari]\net in eum omne suum imperium et potestatem conferat;\u201d meaning by\n_people_, the _Roman_ people, and so establishing the despotic rule of\nthe prince. But BRACTON took advantage of the ambiguity, to establish\nthat maxim of a free government, \u201cThat all dominion arises from the\npeople.\u201d This, you will say, was good management. But what follows is\nstill better. \u201cNihil aliud, says he, potest rex in terris, cum sit Dei\nminister et vicarius, nisi quod JURE potest. NEC OBSTAT quod dicitur,\nQUOD PRINCIPI PLACET LEGIS HABET VIGOREM; quia sequitur in fine legis,\nCUM LEGE REGIA QU\u00c6 DE IMPERIO EJUS LATA EST; id est, non quicquid de\nvoluntate regis temer\u00e8 pr\u00e6sumptum est, sed quod consilio magistratuum\nsuorum, rege auctoritatem pr\u00e6stante, et habit\u00e2 super hoc deliberatione\net tractatu, rect\u00e8 fuerit definitum.\u201d Thus far old BRACTON; who is\nreligiously followed in the same gloss by THORNTON, and the author of\nFLETA. But what! you will say, this is an exact description of the\npresent constitution. It is so, and therefore certainly not to be found\nin the civil law. To confess the truth, these venerable sages are\nplaying tricks with us. The whole is a premeditated falsification, or,\nto say it softer, a licentious commentary, for the sake of _English_\nliberty. The words in the PANDECTS and INSTITUTIONS are these; \u201cQUOD\nPRINCIPI PLACUIT, LEGIS HABET VIGOREM, UTPOTE CUM LEGE REGIA, QU\u00c6 DE\nIMPERIO EJUS LATA EST, POPULUS EI ET IN EUM OMNE SUUM IMPERIUM ET\nPOTESTATEM CONFERAT.\u201d\n\nMy honest friend, in mentioning this extraordinary circumstance, says,\none cannot consider it _sine stupore_. He observes, that these lawyers\ndid not quote the Pandects by hearsay, but had copies of them; and\ntherefore adds (for I will read on) \u201cUnde magis mirandum qu\u00e2nam ratione\nevenerit, ut non sol\u00f9m ipse, ade\u00f2 judiciis forensibus clarus, et (si\nBiographis scriptorum nostratium fides) professor juris utriusque\nOxoniensis, ver\u00f9m etiam THORNTONIUS juris ali\u00e0s peritissimus, et FLET\u00c6\nauthor, ade\u00f2 diversam lectionem sensumque diversum atque interpretibus\naliis universis ade\u00f2 alienum in illustrissimo juris C\u00e6sarei loco\nexplicando tam fident\u00e8r admiserint.\u201d The difficulty, you see, increases\nupon him. But we shall easily remove it by observing, that the C\u00e6sarean\nlaws, though they had no proper authority with us, yet were much\ncomplimented in those times, and were to be treated on all occasions\nwith ceremony. And therefore those lawyers that lived under and wanted\nto support a free constitution, saw there was no way of serving their\ncause so effectually, as by pretending to find it in the _Roman\ninstitutes_.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nThis management of BRACTON and his followers makes some amends for the\nill conduct of RICHARD the Second\u2019s lawyers. And as to their chicanery,\nthe ingenuity of the gloss, we will suppose, was no more than necessary\nto correct the malignity of the text.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nThey had, no doubt, consulted their honour much more, by insisting\nroundly, as they might have done, that the text had no concern at all\nin the dispute. But I mention these things only to shew the extreme\nreverence, that was then paid to the civil law, by the shifts the\ncommon lawyers were put to in order to evade its influence. From which\nwe learn how rooted the love of liberty must have been in this nation,\nand how unshaken the firmness of the national councils in supporting\nit, when, notwithstanding the general repute it was of in those days,\nthe imperial law could never gain authority enough to prescribe to\nus in any matters that concerned the rights of the crown, or the\nproperty of the subject. And this circumstance will be thought the more\nextraordinary, if it be considered, that, to the general esteem in\nwhich the _Roman_ law was held by the clergy, our kings have usually\nadded the whole weight of their influence; except indeed at some\nparticular junctures, when their jealousy of the _canon_ law prevailed\nover their natural bias to the _civil_.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI should be unwilling to weaken any argument you take to be of use\nin maintaining the noble cause you have undertaken. But, methinks,\nthis charge on our princes would require to be made out by other\nevidence[147] than hath been commonly produced for it. There is no\ndoubt but many of them have aimed at setting themselves above the laws\nof their country; but is it true (I mean, though FORTESCUE himself[148]\nhas suggested the same thing) that for this purpose they have usually\nexpressed a partiality to the _Roman_ laws?\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nI believe it certain that they have, and on better reasons than the\nbare word of any lawyer whatsoever.\n\nWhat think you of RICHARD the Second\u2019s policy in the instance before\nmentioned; that RICHARD, who used to declare, \u201cThat the laws were only\nin his mouth and breast, and that he himself could make and unmake them\nat his pleasure?\u201d We may know for what reason a prince of this despotic\nturn had recourse to the _Roman_ law.\n\nBut even his great predecessor is known to have been very indulgent\ntowards it. And still earlier, EDWARD I. took much pains to establish\nthe credit of this law; and to that end engaged the younger ACCURSIUS,\nthe most renowned doctor of the age, to come over into _England_, and\nset up a school of it at _Oxford_. Or, to wave these instances, let\nme refer you to a certain and very remarkable fact, which speaks the\nsense, not of this or that king, but of the whole succession of our\nprinces.\n\nThe imperial law, to this day, obtains altogether in the courts of\nadmiralty, in courts marescall, and in the universities[149]. On the\ncontrary, in what we call the courts of law and equity, it never\nhath, nor ever could prevail. What shall we say to this remarkable\ndifference? or to what cause will you ascribe it, that this law, which\nwas constantly excluded with such care from the one sort of courts,\nshould have free currency and be of sole authority in the other? I\nbelieve it will be difficult to assign any other than this: that the\nsubjects of decision in the first species of courts are matters in\nthe resort of the king\u2019s prerogative, such as peace and war, and the\ndistribution of honours; whilst the subjects of decision in the courts\nof common law are out of his prerogative, such as those of liberty\nand property. The king had his choice by what law the first sort of\nsubjects should be regulated; and therefore he adopted the imperial\nlaw. He had not his choice in the latter instance; and the people were\nnever satisfied with any other than the law of the land.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nYet Mr. SELDEN, you know, gives another reason of this preference: it\nwas, he thinks, because foreigners are often concerned with the natives\nin those tribunals where the civil law is in use.\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nTrue; but my learned friend, as I conceive, did not attend to this\nmatter with his usual exactness. For foreigners are as frequently\nconcerned in the courts of law and equity, as in the other tribunals.\nThe case in point of reason is very clear. In all contests that are\ncarried on between a native and a foreigner, as the subject of another\nstate, the decision ought to be by the law of nations. But when a\nforeigner puts himself with a native under the protection of our\nstate, the determination is, of course, by our law. The practice hath\nuniformly corresponded to the right in the courts of law and equity. In\nthe other tribunals the right hath given way to the will of the prince,\nwho had his reasons for preferring the authority of the imperial law.\n\nUpon the whole, if we consider the veneration, which the clergy usually\nentertained, and endeavoured to inculcate into the people, for the\ncivil law; the indulgence shewn it by the prince; its prevalence in\nthose courts which were immediately under the prerogative; and even the\ncountenance shewn it at times in the course of pleading at common law;\nwe cannot avoid coming to this short conclusion, \u201cThat the genius of\nthe imperial laws was repugnant to our constitution; and that nothing\nbut the extreme jealousy of the barons, lest they might prove, in\npleas of the crown, injurious to civil liberty, hath kept them from\nbeing received in _England_ on the same footing that we every where\nfind they are in the other countries of _Europe_, and as they are in\n_Scotland_ to this day.\u201d\n\nBut, if you think I draw this conclusion too hastily, and without\ngrounding it on sufficient premises, you may further consider with me,\nif you please, THE FATE AND FORTUNES OF THE CIVIL LAW IN THIS KINGDOM\nDOWN TO THE PRESENT TIME.\n\nIn the reigns of HENRY VII[150] and VIII, and the two first kings of\nthe house of STUART, that is, the most despotic of our princes, the\nstudy of the civil law hath been more especially favoured; as we might\nconclude from the general spirit of those kings themselves, but as we\ncertainly know from the countenance they shewed to its professors; from\ntheir chusing to employ them in their business, and from the salaries\nand places they provided for their encouragement. Yet see the issue of\nall this indulgence to a foreign law, and the treatment it met with\nfrom our parliaments and people! The oppressions of EMPSON and DUDLEY\nhad been founded in a stretch of power, usurped and justified on the\nprinciples of the civil law; by which these miscreants had been enabled\nto violate a fundamental part of our constitution, the way of _trial\nby_ JURIES. The effect on the people was dreadful. Accordingly, in the\nentrance of the next reign, though the authority, by which they had\nacted, had even been parliamentary, these creatures of tyranny were\nindicted of high treason, were condemned and executed for having been\ninstrumental in subverting LEGEM TERR\u00c6; and the extorted statute, under\nwhich they had hoped to shelter themselves, was with a just indignation\nrepealed.\n\nYet all this was considered only as a necessary sacrifice to the\nclamours of an incensed people. The younger HENRY, we may be sure,\nhad so much of his father in him, or rather so far outdid him in the\nworst parts of his tyranny, that he could not but look with an eye of\nfavour on the very law he had been constrained to abolish. His great\necclesiastical minister was, no doubt, in the secret of his master\u2019s\ninclinations, and conducted himself accordingly. Yet the vengeance of\nthe nation pursued and overtook him in good time. They resented his\ndisloyal contempt of the original constitution; and made it one of the\narticles against this _Roman_ cardinal, \u201cThat he endeavoured to subvert\n_antiquissimas leges hujus regni, universumque hoc regnum_ LEGIBUS\nIMPERIALIBUS _subjicere_.\u201d\n\nFrom this time, the study of the civil law was thought to languish in\n_England_, till it revived with much spirit in the reigns of those\nunhappy princes who succeeded to the house of TUDOR. Then indeed,\nby inclination and by pedantry, JAMES I. was led to patronize and\nencourage it. And the same project was resumed, and carried still\nfurther, by his unfortunate son. I speak now from my own experience and\nobservation. The civil lawyers were most welcome at court. They were\nbrought into the Chancery and court of Requests. The minister, another\nsort of man than WOLSEY, yet a thorough ecclesiastic, and bigoted, if\nnot to the religion; yet to the policy of _Rome_, gave a countenance\nto this profession above that of the common law. He had found the\nspirit, and even the forms of it, most convenient for his purpose in\nthe STAR-CHAMBER and HIGH-COMMISSION court, those tribunals of imperial\njustice, exalted so far above the controul of the common law; and by\nhis good will, therefore, would have brought the same regimen into the\nother branches of the administration. Great civilians were employed to\nwrite elaborate defences of their science; to the manifest exaltation\nof the prerogative; to the prejudice of the national rights and\nprivileges; and to the disparagement of the common law. The consequence\nof these proceedings is well known. The most immediate was, that they\nprovoked the jealousy of the common lawyers; and, when the rupture\nafterwards happened, occasioned many of the most eminent of them to\nthrow themselves into the popular scale[151].\n\nYet, to see the uniformity of the views of tyranny, and the direct\nopposition which it never fails to encounter from the _English_ law, no\nsooner had a set of violent men usurped the liberties of their country,\nand with the sword in their hands determined to rule despotically\nand in defiance of the constitution, than the same jealousy of the\ncommon law, and the same contempt of it, revived. Nay, to such an\nextreme was the new tyranny carried, that the very game of EMPSON and\nDUDLEY was played over again. The trial of an _Englishman_ by his\npeers was disgraced and rejected; and (I speak from what I felt) the\nperson imprisoned and persecuted, who dared appeal, though in his own\ncase[152], to the ancient essential forms of the constitution. Under\nsuch a state of things, it is not to be wondered that much pains was\ntaken to depreciate a law which these mighty men were determined not\nto regard. Invectives against the professors of the _English_ laws\nwere the usual and favoured topics of parliamentary eloquence. These\nwere sometimes so indecent, and pushed to that provoking length,\nthat WHITLOCKE himself, who paced it with them through all changes,\nwas forced in the end to hazard his reputation with his masters, by\nstanding on the necessary defence of himself and his profession[153].\n\nI need not, I suppose, descend lower. Ye have both seen with your own\neyes the occurrences of the late reign. Ye have heard the common\nlanguage of the time. The practice was but conformable to such\ndoctrines as were current at court, where it was generally maintained,\nthat the king\u2019s power of dispensing with law, was LAW; by which if\nthese doctors did not intend the _imperial_ or _civil law_, the insult\nwas almost too gross to deserve a confutation, It must be owned, and\nto the eternal shame of those who were capable of such baseness, there\nwere not wanting some even of the common lawyers that joined in this\ninsult.\n\nI but touch these things slightly; for I consider to whom I speak. But\nif, to these examples of the nation\u2019s fondness for their laws, you\nadd, what appears in the tenor of our histories, the constant language\nof the _coronation-oaths_, of the _oaths of our judges_, and, above\nall, of the _several great charters_; in all which express mention is\nmade of the LEX TERR\u00c6, in opposition to every foreign, but especially\nthe C\u00e6sarean, law; you will conclude with me, \u201cThat, as certainly as\nthe C\u00c6SAREAN LAW is founded in the principles of slavery, our ENGLISH\nLAW, and the constitution to which it refers, hath its foundation in\nfreedom, and, as such, deserved the care with which it hath been\ntransmitted down to us from the earliest ages.\u201d\n\nWhat think ye now, my good friends? Is it any longer a doubt, that the\nconstitution of the _English_ government, such I mean as it appears to\nhave been from the most unquestioned annals of our country, is a free\nconstitution? Is there any thing more in the way of this conclusion?\nor does it not force itself upon us, and lie open to the mind of every\nplain man that but turns his attention upon this subject?\n\nYou began, Mr. SOMERS, with great fears and apprehensions; or you\nthought fit to counterfeit them, at least. You suspected the matter\nwas too mysterious for common understandings to penetrate, and too\nmuch involved in the darkness of ancient times to be brought into open\nday-light. Let me hear your free thoughts on the evidence I have here\nproduced to you. And yet it is a small part only of that which might be\nproduced, of that I am sure which yourself could easily have produced,\nand perhaps expected from me.\n\nBut I content myself with these obvious truths, \u201cThat the liberty of\nthe subject appears, and of itself naturally arose, from the very\nnature of the FEUDAL, which is properly (at least if we look no further\nback than the Conquest) the _English_ constitution; that the current\nof liberty has been gradually widening, as well as purifying, in\nproportion as it descended from its source; that charters and laws have\nremoved every scruple that might arise about the reciprocal rights and\nprivileges of prince and people; that the sense of that liberty which\nthe nation enjoyed under their admirable constitution was so quick,\nthat every the least attempt to deprive them of it gave an alarm;\nand their attachment to it so strong and constant, that no artifice,\nno intrigue, no perversion of law and gospel, could induce them to\npart with it: that, in particular, they have guarded this precious\ndeposite of legal and constitutional liberty with such care, that,\nwhile the heedless reception of a foreign law, concurring with other\ncircumstances, hath riveted the yoke of slavery on the other nations\nof _Europe_, this of _England_ could never be cajoled nor driven into\nany terms of accommodation with it; but, as NAT. BACON[154] said truly,\n_That the triple crown could never well solder with the English_, so\nneither could the _imperial_; and that, in a word, the ENGLISH LAW\nhath always been preserved inviolate from the impure mixtures of the\ncanon and C\u00e6sarean laws, as the sole defence and bulwark of our civil\nliberties.\u201d\n\nThese are the plain truths, which I have here delivered to you, and\non which I could be content to rest this great cause; I mean, if\nit had not already received its formal, and, I would hope, final\ndetermination, in another way. For no pretences will surely prevail\nhereafter with a happy people to renounce that liberty, which so\nrightfully belonged to them at all times, and hath now so solemnly been\nconfirmed to them by the great transactions of these days. I willingly\nomit therefore, as superfluous, what in a worse cause might have been\nthought of no small weight, the express testimony of our ablest lawyers\nto the freedom of our constitution. I do not mean only the COKES and\nSELDENS of our time (though in point of authority what names can be\ngreater than theirs?); but those of older and therefore more reverend\nestimation, such as GLANVIL, BRACTON, the author of FLETA, THORNTON,\nand FORTESCUE[155]: men the most esteemed and learned in their several\nages; who constantly and uniformly speak of the _English_, as a mixed\nand limited form of government, and even go so far as to seek its\norigin, where indeed the origin of all governments must be sought, in\nthe free will and consent of the people.\n\nAll this I might have displayed at large; and to others perhaps,\nespecially if the cause had required such management, all this I should\nhave displayed. But, independently of the judgments of particular men,\nwhich prejudice might take occasion to object to, I hold it sufficient\nto have proved from surer grounds, from the very form and make of our\npolitical fabric, and the most unquestioned, because the most public,\nmonuments of former times, \u201cTHAT THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION IS ASSUREDLY\nAND INDISPUTABLY FREE[156].\u201d\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nYou will read, Sir JOHN, in our attention to this discourse, the effect\nit has had upon us. The zeal, with which you have pleaded the cause\nof liberty, makes me almost imagine I see you again in the warmth and\nspirit of your younger years, when you first made head against the\nencroachments of civil tyranny. The same cause has not only recalled to\nyour memory the old topics of defence, but restores your former vigour\nin the management of them. So that, for myself, I must freely own, your\nvindication of our common liberties is, at least, the most plausible\nand consistent that I have ever met with.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nAnd yet, if one was critically disposed, there are still, perhaps, some\nthings that might deserve a further explanation.\u2014But enough has been\nsaid by you, Sir JOHN, to shew us where the truth lies: and, indeed,\nfrom such plain and convincing topics, that, whatever fears my love of\nliberty might suggest, they are much abated at least, if not entirely\nremoved, by your arguments.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nMr. SOMERS, I perceive, is not easily cured of his scruples and\napprehensions. But for my own part, Sir JOHN, I can think but of one\nobjection of weight that can be opposed to your conclusion. It is,\n\u201cThat, notwithstanding the clear evidence you have produced, both for\nthe free nature of the _English_ constitution, and the general sense\nof the _English_ nation concerning it, yet, in fact, the government\nwas very despotic under the TUDOR, and still more perhaps under the\nfirst princes of the STUART, line. How could this happen, may it be\nasked, on your plan, which supposes the popular interest to have been\nkept up in constant vigour, or rather to have been always gaining,\ninsensibly indeed, but necessarily, on the power of the crown? Will\nnot the argument then from historical evidence be turned against\nyou, whilst it may be said that your theory, however plausible, is\ncontradicted by so recent and so well-attested a part of our history?\nAnd, in particular, will not the partisans[157] of the late king and\nhis family have to allege in their behalf, that their notions of the\nprerogative were but such as they succeeded to with the crown; and,\nwhatever may be pretended from researches into remoter times, that they\nendeavoured only to maintain the monarchy on the footing on which it\nhad stood for many successions, and on which it then stood when the\nadministration fell into their hands? If this point were effectually\ncleared, I see nothing that could be further desired to a full and\ncomplete vindication of _English_ liberty.\u201d\n\n\nSIR J. MAYNARD.\n\nYour lordship, I must own, has touched a very curious and interesting\npart of our subject. But you must not believe it was so much\noverlooked by me, as purposely left for your lordship\u2019s better\nconsideration. You, who have looked so minutely and carefully into the\nstory of those times, will, better than any other, be able to unfold\nto us the mysteries of that affair. The fact is certain, as you say,\nthat the _English_ government wore a more despotic appearance from the\ntime of the TUDOR family\u2019s accession to the throne, than in the reigns\npreceding that period. But I am mistaken, if your lordship will not\nopen the reason of it so clearly as to convince us, that that increase\nof prerogative was no proof of a change in the constitution, and was\neven no symptom of declining liberty. I do not allow myself to speak my\nsentiments more plainly at present. But I am sure, if they are just,\nthey will receive a confirmation from what your lordship will find\noccasion to observe to us in discoursing op this subject.\n\n\nMR. SOMERS.\n\nI will not disown that this was one of the matters I had in view, when\nI hinted some remaining doubts about your general conclusion. But I\nknew it would not escape my lord of SALISBURY, who, of all others, is\ncertainly the most capable of removing it.\n\n\nBP. BURNET.\n\nSo that I have very unwarily, it seems, been providing a fine task\nfor myself. And yet, as difficult as I foresee it will be for me to\nsatisfy two such Inquirers, I should not decline that task, if I was\nindeed prepared for it, or if I could boast of such a memory as Sir J.\nMAYNARD has shewn in the course of this conversation. But the truth is,\nthough I have not wanted opportunities of laying in materials for such\na design, and though I have not neglected to take some slight notes of\nthem, yet I cannot pretend to have them at once in that readiness, as\nto venture on such a discourse as I know you expect from me. But if,\nagainst our next meeting, I shall be able to digest such thoughts as\nhave sometimes occurred to me when I was engaged in the History of the\nReformation, I shall take a pleasure to contribute all I can to the\nfurther and more entire elucidation of this subject.\n\n\n  THE END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.\n\n  Printed by J. Nichols and Son,\n  Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Mala et impia consuetudo est contra Deos disputandi, sive ex animo\nid fit, sive simulat\u00e8. _De Nat. D._ l. ii. c. 67.\n\n[2] Genus hoc sermonum, positum in hominum veterum auctoritate, et\neorum illustrium, plus nescio quo pacto videtur habere gravitatis.\nItaque ipse mea legens, sic afficior interdum, ut Catonem, non me loqui\nexist\u00edmem. CIC. _De Amic._ c. 1.\n\n[3] Omnem sermonem tribuimus non Tithono, ut Aristo Chius; _parum enim\nesset auctoritatis in fabul\u00e2_. De Senect. c. 1.\n\n[4] See the Dialogue intituled, \u03a0\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1, \u03a0\u03a1\u039f\u039c\u0397\u0398\u0395\u03a5\u03a3 \u03b5\u1f36 \u1f10\u03bd\n\u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[5] \u1f1c\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03bd \u1f05\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03ac\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd\u00b7 Xen. Mem. l. i. c. 3.\n\n[6] \u0393\u03ad\u03bb\u03c9\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c9\u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u1f78 \u03c3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03cc\u03c6\u1ff3. \u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8. c. 7.\n\n[7] Difficillimam illam societatem _Gravitatis cum Humanitate_. _Leg._ l.\niii. c. 1.\n\n[8] \u1f18\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03bc\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u1f21\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03bf\u1f55\u03c4\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03d6\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1 \u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76\n\u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03cc\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9, \u03bf\u1f50 \u03d6\u03ac\u03bd\u03c5 \u03d6\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1, \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03b5\u1f50\u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u03c7\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c4\u1f74\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd\u03af\u03b1\u03bd.\n\u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8. c. 7.\n\n[9] \u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8. c. 7. to the end. \u0394\u1f76\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03cd\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2. c. 33. and \u0396\u03b5\u1fe6\u03be\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[10] \u2014\u2014quo in genere orationis utrumque Oratorem cognoveramus, id\nipsum sumus in eorum sermone _adumbrare conati_. De Orat. iii. 4.\n\n[11] A curious passage, or two, in his Letters to Atticus, will serve\nto illustrate this observation. The _academic questions_ were drawn\nup, and finished, when a doubt occurred to him, whether he should\nnot change one of the speakers in that Dialogue, and, instead of\nVarro, introduce Brutus; who would suit his purpose, he said, just\nas well, because his philosophic principles were the same with those\nof Varro\u2014_si addubitas_, says he to Atticus, _ad Brutum transeamus.\nEst enim is quoque Antiochius._ l. xiii. 25. Was this a change to\nbe easily made, if it were necessary, in this kind of writing, to\nsuit the _style_ and _manner of expression_ to the character of the\nspeakers? Yet, hear how negligently he treats this matter\u2014_Opinor\nigitur consideremus, etsi nomina jam facta sunt. Sed_ VEL INDUCI, VEL\nMUTARI POSSUNT. l. xiii. 14.\u2014In other words, provided the _cast_ of\nthe several parts was the same, the _language_ of the Dialogue would\nrequire no alteration. It was indifferent, in this respect, who were\nthe speakers.\n\n[12] Scripsit enim et DIALOGOS quos non magis philosophi\u00e6 annumerare\npossis, quam HISTORI\u00c6. SENECA, EP. C.\n\n[13] Lord SHAFTESBURY\u2019S _Moralists_, P. 1. S. I.\n\n[14] _Adv. to an Author_, P. 1. S. III.\n\n[15] _Adv. to an Author_, P. 1. towards the end.\n\n[16] The scene of Dr. MORE\u2019S DIVINE DIALOGUES, printed in 1668.\n\n[17] At BEACONSFIELD in _Bucks_, the supposed scene of the Dialogue.\n\n[18] See his works, where are some pieces of a very early date; though\nLord CLARENDON tells us, _he was near thirty years of age, before he\nwas much taken notice of as a Poet_. Contin. of his Life, P. I. p. 25.\n\n[19] Dr. ANDREWS, bishop of _Winchester_, and Dr. NEAL, bishop of\n_Durham_. The story is well known.\n\n[20] Dr. GEORGE MORLEY.\n\n[21] This alludes to the impeachment of Mr. _Justice_ CRAWLEY, _July 6,\n1641_, for his extra-judicial opinion in the affair of _Ship-money_.\nMr. WALLER\u2019S speech on this occasion is extant amongst his works.\n\n[22] The famous Mr. HAMPDEN was his uncle.\n\n[23] That of _Secretary of State_. The Lord CLARENDON tells us it was\nwith the utmost difficulty he persuaded him to accept it. \u201cThere were\ntwo considerations (says the historian) that made most impression on\nhim; the _one_, lest the world should believe that his own ambition had\nprocured this promotion, and that he had therefore appeared signally\nin the house to oppose those proceedings, that he might thereby render\nhimself gracious to the court: The _other_, lest the king should expect\nsuch a submission and resignation of himself and his own reason and\njudgment to his commands as he should never give or pretend to give;\nfor he was so severe an adorer of truth, that he would as easily have\ngiven himself leave to steal as to dissemble,\u201d &c. B. iv.\n\n[24] The noble historian, before cited, gives us two instances of Lord\nFALKLAND\u2019S scrupulosity. The _one_ was, \u201cThat he could never bring\nhimself to employ spies, or give any countenance or entertainment to\nthem:\u201d The _other_, \u201cThat he could never allow himself the liberty of\nopening letters, upon a suspicion that they might contain matter of\ndangerous consequence.\u201d B. viii.\n\n[25] To this purpose my Lord CLARENDON. \u201cHe [Mr. W.] spoke, upon all\noccasions, with great sharpness and freedom: which (now there were so\nfew that used it, and there was no danger of being over-voted) was\nnot restrained; and therefore used as an argument against those, who\nwere gone upon pretence, that they were not suffered to declare their\nopinion freely in the house; which could not be believed, when all men\nknew what liberty Mr. WALLER took, and spoke every day with impunity,\nagainst the sense and proceedings of the house.\u201d B. vii.\n\n[26] See Lord CLARENDON\u2019S History.\n\n[27] \u1f0d\u03c0\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd, lib. iv. \u00a7 26, which Dr. MORE, in l. ii. c. 3. of\nhis ENCHIRIDION ETHICUM, translates, _simplifica teipsum_.\n\n[28] In the year 1654.\n\n[29] Lord CLARENDON died in 1674.\n\n[30] The character of Mr. WALLER is given at large in the _Life of\nLord Clarendon_, P. I. p. 25.\u2014As for Dr. MORE, Bishop BURNET tells\nus, in one word, \u201cThat he was an open-hearted and sincere Christian\nphilosopher.\u201d _Hist. of his own Time_, vol. p. 273. 12^{mo}, _Edinb._\n1753.\n\n[31] This Dialogue is founded on a short passage in Mr. SPRAT\u2019S Life of\nMr. COWLEY, in which he observes, \u201cThat in his long dependence on my\nLord St. ALBANS, there never happened any manner of difference between\nthem; except a little at LAST, because he would leave his service.\u201d\n\n[32] A small village on the _Thames_, which was Mr. COWLEY\u2019S first\nretreat, before he removed to _Chertsea_.\n\n[33] Meaning an estate he had obtained by means of this lord. This\nparticular is several times referred to in the course of the Dialogue.\n\n[34] The writer of the Dialogue has thought fit to soften the\nmisanthropy of Mr. COWLEY in this instance. In one of his Essays he\ntalks strangely. \u201cIt is the great boast,\u201d says he, \u201cof eloquence and\nphilosophy, that they first congregated men dispersed, united them into\ncities, and built up the houses and the walls of cities. I wish they\ncould unravel all they had woven, that we might have our woods and our\ninnocence again, _instead of our castles and our policies_.\u201d\n\n[35] These verses are inserted in one of his _Essays_, and in some\neditions of his works.\n\n[36] \u201cPerhaps, says he (speaking of the poets), it was the immature and\nimmoderate love of them, which stampt first, or rather engraved, the\ncharacters in me: they were like letters cut in the bark of a young\ntree, which with the tree, still grow proportionably.\u201d\n\n  [_Essay on himself._]\n\n[37] \u201cWhen the civil war broke out, his [Mr. COWLEY\u2019S] affection to the\nking\u2019s cause drew him to _Oxford_, as soon as it began to be the chief\nseat of the royal party.\u201d [Dr. SPRAT\u2019S life of him.]\n\n[38] Dr. SPRAT tells us in _his Life_, \u201cThat, during his residence at\n_Oxford_, he had the entire friendship of my Lord FALKLAND, one of the\nprincipal secretaries of state. That affection was contracted by the\nagreement of their learning and manners. For you may remember, Sir,\n[addressing himself to Mr. M. CLIFFORD] we have often heard Mr. COWLEY\nadmire him, not only for the profoundness of his knowledge, which was\napplauded by all the world, but more especially for those qualities\nwhich he himself more regarded, for _his generosity of mind, and his\nneglect of the vain pomp of human greatness_.\u201d\n\n[39] _The Cutter of Coleman-street_; the occasion and purpose of\nwhich was this: At the Restoration, there was not a set of men more\ntroublesome to the ministry than the cavalier officers; amongst whom\nhad crept in all the profligate of broken fortunes, to share in the\nmerits and rewards of that name. COWLEY writ this comedy to unmask\nthese wretches, and might reasonably pretend to some thanks for it.\nBut, contrary to expectation, this very attempt raised a storm against\nhim even at court, which beat violently upon him. See his preface to\nthat play in the later editions in 8vo.\n\n[40] SHAKESPEAR. _As you like it._ Act II. S. 1.\u2014There is a quaintness\nin these lines of the great poet, which however are not unlike some of\nMr. COWLEY\u2019S addressed to J. EVELYNE, Esq.\n\n    Where does the wisdom and the pow\u2019r divine,\n    In a more bright and sweet reflexion shine;\n    Where do we finer strokes and colours see\n    Of the Creator\u2019s real poetry;\n\n      Than when we with attention look\n    Upon the third day\u2019s volume of the book?\n    If we could open and intend our eye,\n      We all, like _Moses_, should espy,\n    Ev\u2019n in a _Bush_, the radiant Deity.\n\n[41] In the PREFACE to his _Proposition for the advancement of\nexperimental philosophy_, first printed in 1661. _See the edition in\n24^{to}, Lond. for H. Herringham._\n\n[42] Dr. SPRAT tells us, \u201cThat he had obtained a plentiful estate by\nthe favour of my Lord ST. ALBANS, and the bounty of my lord duke of\nBUCKINGHAM.\u201d [See his _Life_.]\n\n[43] Meaning _The true history of_ Don Quixote; in which poor _Sancho\nPanca_ is drawn into all adventures, by the promise of his _knight_, to\nreward him in due time with the government of an _island_.\n\n[44] LORD BACON gives another account of this matter.\u2014\u201cAs for the\nprivateness of life of contemplative men, it is a theme so common\nto extol a private life, not taxed with sensuality and sloth, in\ncomparison, and to the disadvantage of a civil life, for safety,\nliberty, pleasure, and dignity, _as no man handleth it, but handleth it\nwell_: such a consonancy it hath to men\u2019s conceits in the expressing,\nand to men\u2019s consents in the allowing.\u201d [_Adv. of Learning_, Book 1.]\n\n[45] The justness of this encomium on Lord CLARENDON will hardly be\ndisputed by any man, whose opinion is worth regarding.\u2014What pity,\nthat Mr. COWLEY\u2019S connexions with some persons, indevoted to the\nexcellent Chancellor, kept him at a distance from a man, so congenial\nto himself, and for whom he could not but entertain the highest esteem!\nThe Chancellor, though he could not be expected to take him out of the\nhands of his old patrons, seems, yet, to have been generous enough to\nMr. COWLEY, not to resent those connexions: as may be gathered from\nthe handsome testimony paid to his merit, in the _Continuation of the\nHistory of his own Life_. Speaking of B. JONSON, he says\u2014\u201cHe [BEN\nJONSON] was the best judge of, and fittest to prescribe rules to,\npoetry and poets, of any man who had lived with, or before him, or\nsince; _If Mr._ COWLEY _had not made a flight beyond all men_; with\nthat modesty yet, to ascribe much of this, to the example and learning\nof BEN JONSON.\u201d\u2014Among the other infelicities of men of genius, ONE\nis, and not the least, that it rarely happens to them to have the\nchoosing of the persons, to whom they would most wish to be obliged.\nThe sensibility of their gratitude being equal to their other parts and\nvirtues, the man, whose favour they chance first to experience, is sure\nof their constant services and attachment through life, how strongly\nsoever their interest, and even their judgment, may _draw_ another way.\n\n[46] The reader is not to forget, that Mr. SPRAT is writing to the Lord\nST. ALBANS, and was, at this time, chaplain to the Duke of BUCKINGHAM.\n\n[47] \u201cIngenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit: non,\nut PLERIQUE, UT NOMINE MAGNIFICO SEGNE OTIUM VELARET, sed quo firmior\nadversus fortuita rempublicam capesseret.\u201d [_Hist._ IV. 5.]\u2014Part of\nthe fine character given us of HELVIDIUS PRISCUS.\n\n[48] THE ROYAL SOCIETY; not yet instituted, but much talked of at this\ntime.\n\n[49] We have in this remonstrance that follows, the usual language of\nthose we call our _friends_; which may sometimes be the _cause_, but\nis oftner the _pretence_, of ambition. Hear how gravely Sir DUDLEY\nCARLTON, who loved business, and drudged on in it all his life, is\npleased, in an evil hour, to express himself: \u201cThe best is, I was never\nbetter, and were it not more for a necessity that is imposed by the\nEXPECTATION OF FRIENDS, not to stand at a stay and SENESCERE, whilst\na man is young, than for ambition, I would not complain myself of my\nmisfortune.\u201d [Sir RALPH WINWOOD\u2019S _Memorials_, vol. II. p. 45.]\n\n[50] That Mr. COWLEY _had_ his prince\u2019s grace appears from what the\nking said of him, on the news of his death: \u201c_That he had not left a_\nBETTER _man behind him in_ England.\u201d And this with _grace_ enough, in\nreason, from SUCH a prince.\u2014How it came to pass that he _wanted_ the\ngrace of his peers (if, indeed, he _did_ want it), hath been explained\nin a note, p. 140.\n\n[51] The application of this line is the affair of the _Mastership of\nthe_ Savoy; \u201cwhich though granted, says Mr. Wood, to his highest merit\nby both the CHARLESES I. and II. yet by certain persons, enemies to the\nMuses, he lost that place.\u201d But this was not the worst. For, such is\nthe hard lot of unsuccessful men, the _Savoy-missing_ COWLEY became the\nobject of ridicule, instead of pity, even to the wits themselves; as\nmay be seen in \u201c_The session of the poets_, amongst _the miscellaneous\npoems_ published by Mr. DRYDEN.\u201d\n\n    Quid DOMINI facient, audent si talia FURES?\n\n[52] Printed among his works, under the name of THE COMPLAINT. The\nrelation it has to the subject debated, made me think it not amiss to\nprint it at the end of this Dialogue\u2014It must raise one\u2019s indignation\nto find that so just, so delicate, and so manly a _complaint_ should be\nscoffed at, as it was by the wits before mentioned, under the name of\nTHE PITIFUL MELANCHOLY.\n\n[53] Juvenal, _Sat._ i. ver. 112.\n\n[54] Whether it were owing to his other occupations, or that he had no\ngreat confidence in the success of this attempt, these _Essays_, which\n_were to give entire satisfaction_ to his court-friend in the affair of\nhis retirement, went on very slowly. They were even left imperfect at\nhis death, \u201ca little before which (says Dr. SPRAT) he communicated to\nme his resolution, to have dedicated them all to my Lord ST. ALBANS, as\na testimony of his entire respects to him; and a _kind of apology_ for\nhaving left human affairs in the strength of his age, while he might\nhave been serviceable to his country.\u201d\u2014\u2014However, if this apology had\nnot the _intended_ effect, it had a much better. Lords and wits may\ndecide of the qualities of Mr. COWLEY\u2019S _head_ as they please; but, so\nlong as these _Essays_ remain, they will oblige all honest men _to love\nthe language of his heart_.\n\n[55] Alas! he was mistaken.\n\n[56] A citation from one of his own poems.\n\n[57] Mr. SPRAT himself tells us, speaking of Mr. COWLEY\u2019S retreat,\nthat \u201csome few friends and books, a _chearful heart_, and innocent\nconscience, were his constant companions.\u201d _Life._\n\n[58] This is one of the prettiest of Mr. COWLEY\u2019S smaller Poems. The\nplan of it is highly poetical: and, though the numbers be not the most\npleasing, the expression is almost every where natural and beautiful.\nBut its principal charm is that air of _melancholy_, thrown over the\nwhole, so expressive of the poet\u2019s character.\n\nThe _address_ of the writer is seen in conveying his just reproaches on\nthe _Court_, under a pretended vindication of it against the _Muse_.\n\n[59] An execrable line.\n\n[60] For the account of these _Monuments_, and of _Kenelworth-Castle_,\nsee the plans and descriptions of DUGDALE.\n\n[61] The speaker\u2019s idea of Lord LEICESTER\u2019S porter agrees with the\ncharacter he sustained on the queen\u2019s reception at _Kenelworth_;\nas we find it described in a paper of good authority written at\nthat time. \u201cHere a PORTER, tall of person, big of limbs, stark of\ncountenance\u2014with club and keys of quantity according; in a rough\nspeech, full of passion in metre, while the queen came within his ward,\nburst out in a great pang of impatience to see such uncouth trudging\nto and fro, such riding in and out, with such din and noise of talk,\nwithin his charge; whereof he never saw the like, nor had any warning\nonce, ne yet could make to himself any cause of the matter. At last,\nupon better view and advertisement, he proclaims open gates and free\npassage to all; yields over his club, his keys, his office and all, and\non his knees humbly prays pardon of his ignorance and impatience. Which\nher highness graciously granting, _&c._\u201d\u2014\n\n A letter from an attendant in court to his friend a citizen and\n merchant of _London_. From the court at _Worcester, 20 August 1575_.\n\n[62] In the first volume of the SPECTATOR.\n\n[63] The factious use, that was afterwards made of this humour of\nmagnifying the character of ELIZABETH, may be seen in the _Craftsman_\nand _Remarks on the History of England_.\n\n[64] What the _political_ character of Mr. ADDISON was, may be seen\nfrom his _Whig-examiner_. This amiable man was keen and even caustic\non subjects, where his party, that is, _civil liberty_, was concerned.\nNor let it be any objection to the character I make him sustain in\nthis Dialogue, that he treats ELIZABETH\u2019S government with respect in\nthe _Freeholder_. He had then the people to cajole, who were taught to\nreverence her memory. He is, here, addressing himself, in private, to\nhis friends.\n\n[65] Lucian expresses this use of the Table prettily\u2014\u03a6\u0399\u039b\u0399\u0391\u03a3 \u039c\u0395\u03a3\u0399\u03a4\u0397\u039d\n\u03a4\u03a1\u0391\u03a0\u0395\u0396\u0391\u039d, \u1f1c\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, c. 27.\n\n[66] Besides this sort of hospitality, there was another still\nmore noble and disinterested, which distinguished the early times,\nespecially the purer ages of chivalry. It was customary, it seems,\nfor the great lords to fix up HELMETS on the roofs and battlements\nof their castles as a signal of hospitality to all adventurers and\nnoble passengers. \u201cAdoncques etoit une coustume en la Grant Bretagne\n(says the author of the old romance, called PERCEFOREST) et fut tant\nque charit\u00e9 regna illecque, tous gentils hommes et nobles dames\nfaisoient mettre au plus hault de leur hostel ung heaulme, en SIGNE\nque tous gentils hommes et gentilles femmes trespassans les chemins,\nentrassent hardyement en leur hostel comme en leur propre; car leurs\nbiens estoient davantage \u00e0 tous nobles hommes et femmes trespassans le\nroyaulme.\u201d Vol. iii. fol. 103.\n\n[67] This is not said without authority: \u201cGive me leave, says one, to\nhold this paradox, that the English were never more idle, never more\nignorant in manual arts, never more factious in following the parties\nof princes or their landlords, never more base (as I may say) trencher\nslaves, than in that age, wherein great men kept open houses for all\ncomers and goers: and that in our age, wherein we have better learned\neach man to live of his own, and great men keep not such troops of idle\nservants, not only the English are become very industrious and skilful\nin manual arts, but also the tyranny of lords and gentlemen is abated,\nwhereby they nourished private dissensions and civil wars, with the\ndestruction of the common people.\u201d FYNES MORYSON\u2019S _Itinerary_, Part\nIII. Ch. v.\n\n[68] Dr. ARBUTHNOT, too, has his authority. A famous politician of the\nlast century expresseth himself to much the same purpose, after his\nmanner: \u201cHenceforth, says he, [that is, after the statutes against\nretainers in HEN. VII\u2019S reign] the country lives, and _great tables_\nof the nobility, which no longer nourished veins that would bleed\nfor them, were fruitless and loathsome till they changed the air,\nand of princes became _courtiers_; where their revenues, never to\nhave been exhausted by beef and mutton, were found _narrow_; whence\nfollowed racking of rents, and, at length, sale of lands.\u201d SIR JAMES\nHARRINGTON\u2019S OCEANA, p. 40. _Lond._ 1656.\n\n[69] True it is, that this divertisement of _bear-baiting_ was not\naltogether unknown in the age of ELIZABETH, and, as it seemeth, not\nmuch misliked of master STOW himself, who hath very graphically\ndescribed it. He is speaking of the _Danish_ embassador\u2019s reception and\nentertainment at _Greenwich_ in 1586. \u201cAs the better sort, saith he,\nhad their convenient disports, so were not the ordinary people excluded\nfrom competent pleasure. For, upon a green, very spacious and large,\nwhere thousands might stand and behold with good contentment, their\nBEAR-BAITING and bull-baiting (tempered with other merry disports) were\nexhibited; whereat it cannot be spoken of what pleasure the people took.\n\nFor it was a sport alone, of these beasts, continueth the historian,\nto see the bear with his pink-eyes leering after his enemies; the\nnimbleness and wait of the dog to take his advantage; and the force and\nexperience of the bear again to avoid the assaults; if he were bitten\nin one place, how he would pinch in another to get free; and if he were\nonce taken, then what shift with biting, clawing, roaring, tugging,\ngrasping, tumbling, and tossing, he would work to wind himself away;\nand, when he was loose, to shake his ears with the blood and slaver\nabout his phisnomy, was a pittance of good relief. The like pastime\nalso of the bull.\u2014And now the day being far spent, and the sun in\nhis declination, the embassador withdrew to his lodging by barge to\nCROSBY\u2019S place; where, no doubt, THIS DAY\u2019S SOLEMNITY WAS THOUGHT UPON\nAND TALKED OF.\u201d\u2014p. 1562.\n\n[70] See the _Anarcharsis_ of LUCIAN.\n\n[71] If the reader be complaisant enough to admit the fact, it may be\naccounted for, on the ideas of chivalry, in the following manner. The\nknight forfeited all pretensions to the favour of the ladies, if he\nfailed, in any degree, in the point of valour. And, reciprocally, the\nclaim which the ladies had to protection and courtesy from the order\nof knights, was founded singly in the reputation of chastity, which\nwas the female point of honour. \u201cCe droit que les dames avoient sur la\nchevalerie (says M. DE LA CURNE DE STE PALAYE) devoit \u00e9tre conditionel;\nil supposoit que leur conduite et leur reputation ne les rendoient\npoint indignes de l\u2019espece d\u2019association qui les unissoit \u00e0 cet ordre\nuniquement fond\u00e9 sur l\u2019honneur.\n\nPar celle voye (says an old _French_ writer, the chevalier DE LA TOUR,\nabout the year 1371) les bonnes se craignoient et se tenoient plus\nfermes de faire chose dont elles peussent perdre leur honneur et leur\netat. _Si vouldroye que cel\u00fbi temps fust revenu, car je pense qu\u2019il\nn\u2019en seroit pas tant de blasm\u00e9es comme il est \u00e0 present.\u201d_\n\n[72] Sir PHILIP SYDNEY.\n\n[73] What is hinted, here, of the _reality_ of these representations,\nhath been lately shewn at large in a learned memoir on this subject,\nwhich the reader will find in the XX^{th} Tom. of HIST. DE L\u2019ACAD. DES\nINSCRIPTIONS ET BELLES LETTRES.\n\n[74] This representation of things in the ages of chivalry agrees\nwith what we are told by the author of the memoir just quoted: \u201cLes\npremi\u00e8res le\u00e7ons,\u201d (says he, speaking of the manner in which the youth\nwere educated in the houses of the Great, which were properly the\nschools of those times) \u201cqu\u2019on leur donnoit, regardoient principalement\n_l\u2019amour de Dieu, et des dames_, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire, la religion, et la\ngalanterie. Mais autant la d\u00e9votion qu\u2019on leur inspiroit \u00e9toit\naccompagn\u00e9e de puerilit\u00e9s et de superstitions, autant l\u2019amour des\ndames, qu\u2019on leur recommandoit, \u00e9toit il rempli de RAFFINEMENT et\nde FANATISME. Il semble qu\u2019on ne pouvoit, dans ces si\u00e9cles ignorans\net grossiers, pr\u00e9senter aux hommes la religion sous une forme assez\nmaterielle pour la mettre \u00e0 leur port\u00e9e; ni leur donner, en m\u00eame tems,\nune id\u00e9e de l\u2019amour assez pure, assez metaphysique, pour prevenir les\ndesordres et les exc\u00e8s, dont etoit capable une nation qui conservoit\npar-tout le caractere impetueux qu\u2019elle montroit \u00e0 la guerre.\u201d Tom. xx.\np. 600.\n\nOne sees then the origin of that furious gallantry which runs through\nthe old romances. And so long as the _refinement and fanaticism_,\nwhich the writer speaks of, were kept in full vigour by the force of\ninstitution and the fashion of the times, the morals of these enamoured\nknights might, for any thing I know, be as pure as their apologist\nrepresents them. At the same time it must be confessed that this\ndiscipline was of a nature very likely to relax itself under another\nstate of things, and certainly to be misconstrued by those who should\ncome to look upon these pictures of a _refined and spiritual passion_,\nas incredible and fantastic. And hence, no doubt, we are to account\nfor that censure which a famous writer, and one of the ornaments\nof ELIZABETH\u2019S own age, passeth on the old books of chivalry. His\nexpression is downright, and somewhat coarse. \u201cIn our fathers time\nnothing was read but books of chivalry, wherein a man by reading should\nbe led to none other end, but only to _manslaughter_ and _baudrye_.\nIf any man suppose they were good enough to pass the time withall, he\nis deceived. For surely vain words do work no small thing in vain,\nignorant, and young minds, especially if they be given any thing\nthereunto of their own nature.\u201d He adds, like a good Protestant, \u201cThese\nbooks, as I have heard say, were made the most part in abbayes and\nmonasteries; a very likely and fit fruit of such an idle and blind kind\nof living.\u201d _Pr\u00e6f._ to ASCHAM\u2019S TOXOPHILUS, 1571.\n\nI thought it but just to set down this censure of Mr.\nASCHAM over-against the candid representation of the French\nmemorialist.\u2014However, what is said of the influence, which this\nancient institution had on the character of his countrymen, is not\nto be disputed. \u201cLes preceptes d\u2019amour repandoient dans le commerce\ndes dames ces considerations et ces egards respectueux, qui, n\u2019ayant\njamais \u00e9t\u00e9 effac\u00e9s de l\u2019esprit des Fran\u00e7ois, ont toujours fait un des\ncaract\u00e8res distinctifs de n\u00f4tre nation.\u201d\n\n[75] Of SCRIBLERUS. See the VI^{th} chapter of that learned work, _On\nthe ancient Gymnastics_.\n\n[76] MASQUES, p. 181. WHALEY\u2019S edition.\n\n[77] This romantic spirit of the Queen may be seen as well in her\n_amours_, as military achievements. \u201cAmbiri, coli ob formam, et\nAMORIBUS, etiam inclinat\u00e2 jam \u00e6tate, videri voluit; de FABULOSIS\nINSULIS per illam relaxationem renovat\u00e2 quasi memori\u00e2 in quibus EQUITES\nAC STRENUI HOMINES ERRABANT, et AMORES, f\u0153ditate omni prohibit\u00e2,\ngeneros\u00e8 per VIRTUTEM exercebant.\u201d\n\n  THUANI Hist. tom. vi. p. 172.\n\nThe observation of the great historian is confirmed by FRANCIS OSBORNE,\nEsq., who, speaking of a contrivance of the Cecilian party to ruin\nthe earl of ESSEX, by giving him a rival in the good graces of the\nqueen, observes\u2014\u201cBut the whole result concluding in a duel, did rather\ninflame than abate the former account she made of him: the opinion\nof a CHAMPION being more splendid (in the weak and romantic sense of\nwomen, that admit of nothing fit to be made the object of a quarrel\nbut themselves) and far above that of a captain or general. So as Sir\nEDMUND CARY, brother to the Lord HUNSDON, then chamberlain and near\nkinsman to the Queen, told me, that though she chid them both, nothing\npleased her better than a conceit she had, that her _beauty_ was the\nsubject of this quarrel, when, God knows, it grew from the stock of\nhonour, of which then they were very tender.\u201d\u2014MEM. OF Q. ELIZABETH, p.\n456.\n\nBut nothing shews the romantic disposition of the Queen, and indeed\nof her times, more evidently than the TRIUMPH, as it was called;\ndevised and performed with great solemnity, in honour of the _French_\ncommissioners in 1581. The contrivance was for four of her principal\ncourtiers, under the quaint appellation of \u201cfour foster-children of\nDESIRE,\u201d to besiege and carry, by dint of arms, \u201cTHE FORTRESS OF\nBEAUTY;\u201d intending, by this courtly \u00e6nigma, nothing less than the\nqueen\u2019s majesty\u2019s own person.\u2014The actors in this famous triumph were,\nthe Earl of ARUNDEL, the Lord WINDSOR, Master PHILIP SIDNEY, and Master\nFULK GREVIL. And the whole was conducted so entirely in the spirit\nand language of knight errantry, that nothing in the Arcadia itself\nis more romantic. See the account at large in STOW\u2019S continuation of\nHOLINSHED\u2019S Chronicles, p. 1316-1321.\n\nTo see the drift and propriety of this triumph, it is to be observed\nthat the business which brought the _French_ commissioners into\n_England_ was, the great affair of the queen\u2019s marriage with the duke\nof ALAN\u00c7ON.\n\n[78] Speeches at Prince HENRY\u2019S barriers.\n\n[79] There was an instance of this kind, and perhaps the latest upon\nrecord in our history, in the 13th year of the queen, when \u201ca combat\nwas appointed to have been fought for a certain manor, and demain\nlands belonging thereto, in _Kent_.\u201d The matter was compromised in\nthe end. But not till after the usual forms had been observed, by the\ntwo parties: of which we have a curious and circumstantial detail in\n_Holinshed\u2019s_ Chronicles, p. 1225.\n\n[80] Alluding to a tract, so called, by GASCOIGNE, an attendant on the\ncourt, and poet of that time, who hath given us a narrative of the\nentertainments that passed on this occasion at _Kenelworth_.\n\n[81] Hence then it is that a celebrated dramatic writer of those\ndays represents the entertainment of MASKS and SHOWS, as the highest\nindulgence that could be provided for a luxurious and happy monarch.\nHis words are these;\n\n    \u201cMusic and poetry are his delight.\n    Therefore I\u2019ll have _Italian_ masques by night,\n    Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;\n    And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,\n    Like SYLVAN NYMPHS, my pages shall be clad:\n    My men, like SATYRS, grazing on the lawns,\n    Shall, with their goat-feet dance the antic hay:\n    Sometimes a lovely boy in DIAN\u2019S shape,\n    With hair, that gilds the water as it glides,\n    Crownets of pearls about his naked arms,\n    And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,\n    Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard-by\n    One like ACT\u00c6ON, peeping through the grove,\n    Shall by the angry Goddess be transform\u2019d\u2014\n    Such things as these best please his Majesty.\u201d\n\n  MARLOW\u2019S Edward II.\n\nAnd how exactly this dramatist painted the humour of the times, we may\nsee from the entertainment provided, not many years after, for the\nreception of King JAMES at _Althorp_ in _Northamptonshire_; where this\nvery design of _Sylvan Nymphs_, _Satyrs_, and ACT\u00c6ON, was executed in a\nmasque by B. JONSON.\n\n[82] Whom his friend Mr. SELDEN characterizeth in this manner,\n\n                     \u201cOmnia carmina doctus\n    Et calles myth\u03c9\u03bd plasmata et historiam.\u201d\n                       TIT. OF HON. p. 466.\n\n[83] _Sacrifices_, says PLUTARCH, _without chorusses and without music,\nwe have known: but for poetry, without fable and without fiction, we\nknow of no such thing_. \u0398\u03c5\u03c3\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u1f00\u03c7\u03cc\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03cd\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f34\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u00b7 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba\n\u1f34\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u1f04\u03bc\u03c5\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u1f00\u03c8\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u1fc6 \u03d6\u03bf\u03af\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd. De aud. po\u00ebt. vol. i. p. 16.\n\n[84] This will be admitted, if a calculation said to have been made by\nthemselves of their number at that time may be relied on\u2014\u201cThey make\nreasoning (saith Sir EDWIN SANDYS in his _Speculum Europ\u00e6_, written\nin 1699) forty hundred sure catholics in _England_, with four hundred\n_English Roman_ priests to maintain that militia,\u201d p. 157.\n\n[85] Mr. CAMDEN owns that the _Irish_ rebellion, which in the end\nbecame so dangerous, had been \u201cencouraged by a slighting of it, and\na gripple-handedness of _England_.\u201d [_Hist. of_ ELIZ. B. iv.]\u2014To\nthe same purpose another eminent writer of that time\u2014\u201cBefore the\ntransmitting of the last great army, the forces sent over by Q.\nELIZABETH were NOT of sufficient power to break and subdue all the\n_Irishry_.\u201d At last, however, \u201cThe extreme peril of losing the kingdom;\nthe dishonour and danger that might thereby grow to the crown of\n_England_; together with a just disdain conceived by that great-minded\nqueen, that so wicked and ungrateful a rebel should prevail against\nher, who had ever been victorious against all her enemies; did move and\nalmost ENFORCE her to send over that mighty army.\u201d [Sir. J. DAVIES,\n_Discovery of the State of Ireland_, p. 97. _Lond._ 1613.]\n\n[86] Sir ROBERT NAUNTON tells us, \u201cThe queen was never profuse in\ndelivering out of her treasure; but paid her servants part in money,\nand the rest with GRACE; which, as the case stood, was then taken for\ngood payment.\u201d [FRAGM. REG. p. 89.] And NAT. BACON to the same purpose.\n\u201cA wise man, that was an eye-witness of HER actions, and those that\nsucceeded to her, many times hath said, That a courtier might make a\nbetter meal of one good LOOK from her, than of a gift from some other.\u201d\n[DISC. P. ii. p. 266. _Lond._ 1651.]\n\n[87] This _reverence of authority_, one of the characteristics of that\ntime, and which Mr. ADDISON presently accounts for, a great writer\ncelebrates in these words\u2014\u201cIt was an ingenuous uninquisitive time,\nwhen all the passions and affections of the people were lapped up in\nsuch an innocent and humble obedience, that there was never the least\ncontestation nor capitulation with the queen, nor (though she very\nfrequently consulted with her subjects) _any further reasons urged of\nher actions than_ HER OWN WILL.\u201d See a tract intitled THE DISPARITY, in\nSir H. WOTTON\u2019S Remains, p. 46, supposed to have been written by the\nearl of CLARENDON.\n\n[88] PAULUS HENTZNERUS, a learned _German_, who was in _England_\nin 1598, goes still further in his encomium on the queen\u2019s skill\nin languages. He tells us, that, \u201cpr\u00e6terquam qu\u00f2d Gr\u00e6c\u00e8 et Latin\u00e8\neleganter est docta, tenet, ultra jam memorata idiomata, etiam\nHispanicum, Scoticum, et Belgicum.\u201d See his ITINERARIUM.\n\nBut this was the general character of the great in that reign: at\nleast, if we may credit Master WILLIAM HARRISON, who discourseth on the\nsubject before us in the following manner: \u201cThis further is not to be\nomitted, to the singular commendation of both sorts and sexes of our\ncourtiers here in _England_, that there are very few of them, which\nhave not the use and skill of sundry speeches, beside an excellent vein\nof writing, before time not regarded. Truly it is a rare thing with us\nnow, to hear of a courtier which hath but his own language. And to say\nhow many gentlewomen and ladies there are, that, beside sound knowledge\nof the _Greek_ and _Latin_ tongues, are thereto no less skilful in the\n_Spanish_, _Italian_, and _French_, or in some one of them, it resteth\nnot in me; sith I am persuaded, that as the noblemen and gentlemen do\nsurmount in this behalf, so these come very little or nothing behind\nthem for their parts; which industry God continue, and accomplish that\nwhich otherwise is wanting.\u201d DESCRIPT. of ENGLAND, p. 196.\n\n[89] One of these _ties_ was the _prejudice of education_; and some\nuncommon methods used to bind it fast on the minds of the people.\u2014A\nbook, called \u0395\u0399\u03a1\u0397\u039d\u0391\u03a1\u03a7\u0399\u0391, sive ELIZABETH, was written in _Latin_ verse\nby one OCKLAND, containing the highest panegyrics on the queen\u2019s\ncharacter and government, and setting forth the transcendant virtues of\nher ministers. This book was enjoined by authority to be taught, as a\nclassic author, in Grammar-schools, and was of course to be gotten by\nheart by the young scholars throughout the kingdom.\n\nThis was a matchless contrivance to imprint a sense of loyalty on the\nminds of the people. And, though it flowed, as we are to suppose,\nfrom a tender regard, in the advisers of it, for the interests of\nProtestantism in that reign; yet its uses are so apparent in any reign,\nand under any administration, that nothing but the moderation of her\nsuccessors, and the reasonable assurance of their ministers that their\nown acknowledged virtues were a sufficient support to them, could have\nhindered the expedient from being followed.\n\nBut, though the stamp of public authority was wanting, private men\nhave attempted, in several ways, to supply this defect. To instance\nonly in one. The Protestant queen was to pass for a mirror of _good\ngovernment_: hence the \u0395\u1f30\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd\u03ac\u03c1\u03c7\u03b9\u03b1. Her successor would needs be thought\na mirror of _eloquence_: and hence the noble enterprise I am about to\ncelebrate. \u201cMr. GEORGE HERBERT (I give it in the grave historian\u2019s own\nwords) being prelector in the rhetorique school in _Cambridge_, in\n1618, passed by those fluent orators, that domineered in the pulpits of\n_Athens_ and _Rome_, and insisted to read upon an oration of K. JAMES,\nwhich he analysed; shewed the concinnity of the parts; the propriety\nof the phrase; the height and power of it to move the affections; the\nstyle, UTTERLY UNKNOWN TO THE ANCIENTS, who could not conceive what\nkingly eloquence was, in respect of which those noted demigogi were\nbut hirelings and tribolary rhetoricians.\u201d Bishop HACKET\u2019S Life of\nArchbishop WILLIAMS, p. 175.\n\n[90] A learned foreigner gives this character of the _English_ at that\ntime: \u201cAngli, ut ADDICTE SERVIUNT, it\u00e0 evecti ad dignitates priorem\nhumilitatem INSOLENTIA rependunt.\u201d H. GROTII ANN. L. v. p. 95. _Amst._\n1657. Hence the propriety of those complaints, in our great poet, of,\n\n        \u201cThe whips and scorns of th\u2019 time,\n    Th\u2019 oppressor\u2019s wrong, the proud man\u2019s contumely,\n    THE INSOLENCE OF OFFICE;\u201d\u2014\n\n_complaints_ so frequent, and so forcibly expressed by him, that we may\nbelieve he painted from his own observation, and perhaps experience, of\nthis insolent misuse of authority. MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. II. S. vii.\n\n[91] Yet it may seem probable, from this poet\u2019s conduct in _Ireland_,\nand his _View of the state of that country_, that his talents for\n_business_ (such as CECIL himself must have approved) were no less\nconsiderable than for poetry. But he had served a disgraced man; and\nhad drawn upon himself the admiration of the generous earl of _Essex_.\nSo that, as the historian expresseth it, \u201cby a fate which still follows\npoets, he always wrestled with poverty, though he had been secretary\nto the lord GRAY, lord deputy of _Ireland_.\u201d All that remained for\nhim was, \u201cto be interred at _Westminster_, near to CHAUCER, at the\ncharge of the earl of _Essex_; his hearse being attended by poets, and\nmournful elegies and poems, with the pens that wrote them, thrown into\nhis grave.\u201d CAMDEN, lib. iv.\n\n[92] As to Sir FRANCIS BACON, the queen herself gave a very plausible\nreason, and doubtless much approved by the grave lawyers and other\njudicious persons of that time, for her neglect of this gentleman.\n\u201cShe did acknowledge (says the earl of _Essex_ in a letter to Mr.\nFRANCIS BACON) you had a great wit, and an excellent gift of speech,\nand much other good learning. But in LAW, she rather thought you could\nmake shew, to the utmost of your knowledge, than, that you were deep.\u201d\nMEM. OF Q. ELIZABETH by Dr. BIRCH; to whom the public is exceedingly\nindebted for abundance of curious information concerning the history of\nthose times.\n\nIf it be asked, how the queen came to form this conclusion, the answer\nis plain. It was from Mr. BACON\u2019S having a GREAT WIT, an excellent GIFT\nOF SPEECH, and much other GOOD LEARNING.\n\nIt is true, Sir FRANCIS BACON himself gives another account of this\nmatter. In a letter of advice to Sir. GEORGE VILLIERS, he says, \u201cIn\nthis dedication of yourself to the public, I recommend unto you\nprincipally that which I think was never done since I was born\u2014that\nyou countenance and encourage and advance ABLE MEN, in all kinds,\ndegrees, and professions. For in the time of the CECILS, father and\nson, ABLE MEN WERE BY DESIGN AND OF PURPOSE SUPPRESSED.\u201d CABALA, p. 57,\ned. 1691.\u2014But either way, indeed, the queen\u2019s character is equally\nsaved.\n\n[93] The lord MOUNTJOY [then Sir CHARLES BLOUNT], being of a military\nturn, had stolen over into _France_, without the queen\u2019s knowledge,\nin order to serve in _Bretagne_, under one of her generals. Upon his\nreturn, which was hastened too by her express command, \u201cServe me so\nagain, said the queen, once more, and I will lay you fast enough for\nrunning. You will never leave, till you are knocked o\u2019 the head, as\nthat inconsiderate fellow SIDNEY was. You shall go when I send you. In\nthe mean time see that you lodge in the Court, where you may FOLLOW\nYOUR BOOKS, HEAD, AND DISCOURSE OF THE WARS.\u201d Sir ROBERT NAUNTON\u2019S FR.\nREG. in L. BURLEIGH.\n\n[94] So good a judge of military matters, as Sir WALTER RALEIGH, was of\nthis opinion with regard to the conduct of the _Spanish_ war. \u201cIf the\nlate queen would have believed her men of war, as she did her scribes,\nwe had, in her time, beaten that great empire in pieces, and made their\nkings, kings of figs and oranges, as in old times. But _her majesty\ndid all by halves_, and, by petty invasions, taught the _Spaniard_\nhow to defend himself, and to see his own weakness; which, till our\nattempts taught him, was hardly known to himself.\u201d See his Works, vol.\ni. 273.\u2014RALEIGH, it may be said, was of the CECIL faction. But the men\nof war, of the ESSEX faction, talked exactly in the same strain; which\nshews that this might probably be the truth.\n\n[95] See Sir HENRY WOTTON\u2019S _Parallel of the earl of Essex and duke\nof Buckingham_. The words are these: \u201cHe [the earl of _Essex_] was to\nwrestle with a queen\u2019s declining, or rather with her very setting age,\nas we may term it; which, besides other respects, is commonly even\nof itself the more umbratious and apprehensive; as for the most part\nall horizons are charged with certain vapours towards their evening.\u201d\nREMAINS, p. 11.\n\n[96] THE DISPARITY, p. 43\n\n[97] This account of her policy is confirmed by what we read in the\nDISPARITY, before cited. \u201cThat trick of countenancing and protecting\nfactions (as that queen, almost her whole reign, did with singular and\nequal demonstration of grace look upon several persons of most distant\nwishes one towards another) was not the least ground of much of her\nquiet and success. And she never doubted but that men, that were never\nso opposite in their good-will each to other, or never so dishonest in\ntheir projectments for each other\u2019s confusion, might yet be reconciled\nin their allegiance towards her. Insomuch that, during her whole\nreign, she never endeavoured to reconcile any personal differences in\nthe court, though the unlawful emulations of persons of nearest trust\nabout her, were ever like to overthrow some of her chiefest designs:\n_A policy, seldom entertained by princes, especially if they have\nissues to survive them_,\u201d p. 46. Her own historian, it is true, seems\na little shy of acknowledging this conduct of the queen, with regard\nto her nobility and ministers. But he owns, \u201cShe now and then took a\npleasure (and not unprofitably) in the emulation and privy grudges of\nher women.\u201d CAMDEN\u2019S ELIZABETH, p. 79. fol. _Lond._ 1688.\n\n[98] We find an intimation to this purpose, in a writer of credit, at\nleast with respect to the _Dutch_ and _Ireland_\u2014\u201cJam et _divulsam_\nHiberniam, et in Batavis Angli militis _seditiones_, velut JUSSAS,\nerant qui exprobrarent.\u201d GROTII ANNAL. l. xii. p. 432.\n\n[99] Something like this was observed of her disposition by Sir JAMES\nMELVIL. After having related to his mistress, the queen of _Scots_,\nthe strong professions of friendship which the queen of _England_ had\nmade to him, \u201cShe [the queen of _Scots_] inquired, says he, whether I\nthought that queen meant truly towards her inwardly in her heart, as\nshe appeared to do outwardly in her speech. I answered freely, that, in\nmy judgment, there was neither plain dealing, nor upright meaning; but\ngreat dissimulation, emulation, and FEAR, lest her princely qualities\nshould over-soon chace her from her kingdom,\u201d &c. MEMOIRS, p. 53.\n\n[100] Secretary WALSINGHAM, in a letter to the queen, Sept. 2,\n1581, amongst other things to the same purpose, has the following\nwords\u2014\u201c_Remember_, I humbly beseech your majesty, _the respect of\ncharges hath lost Scotland_: and I would to God I had no cause to\nthink, that _it might put your highness in peril of the loss of\nEngland_.\u201d\u2014\u201cAnd even the Lord Treasurer himself (we are told) in\na letter still extant in the paper-office, written in the critical\nyear 1588, while the _Spanish_ armada was expected against _England_,\nexcuses himself to sir EDWARD STAFFORD, then embassador in _France_,\nfor not writing to him oftener, _on account of her majesty\u2019s\nunwillingness to be at the expence of messengers_.\u201d Sir T. EDMONDES\u2019\nState-papers, by Dr. BIRCH, p. 21.\n\n[101] One of these complaisant observers was the writer of _the\nDescription of England_, who, speaking of the variety of the queen\u2019s\nhouses, checks himself with saying, \u201cBut what shall I need to take\nupon me to repeat all, and tell what houses the queen\u2019s majesty hath?\nSith ALL IS HIRS; and when it pleaseth hir in the summer season to\nrecreate hirself abroad, and view the state of the countrie, and hear\nthe complaints of hir unjust officers or substitutes, _every nobleman\u2019s\nhouse is hir palace_, where she continueth during pleasure, and till\nshe returne again to some of hir owne; in which she remaineth as long\nas pleaseth hir.\u201d p. 196.\n\n[102] Perhaps they had no need of such favours: It seems as if they\nhad provided for themselves another way. One of her ladies, the Lady\nEDMONDES, had been applied to for her interest with the queen in a\ncertain affair of no great moment, then depending in the Court of\nChancery. The person, commissioned to transact this matter with her\nladyship, had offered her 100_l._ which she treated _as too small a\nsum_. The relater of this fact adds\u2014\u201cThis ruffianry of causes I am\ndaily more and more acquainted with, and see the manner of dealing,\nwhich cometh of the _queen\u2019s straitness_ to give these women, whereby\nthey presume thus to grange and truck causes.\u201d See a letter in MEM. of\nQ. ELIZABETH, by Dr. BIRCH, vol. i. p. 354. But this 100_l._ as the\nvirtuous Lady EDMONDES says, was _a small sum_. It appears, that bishop\nFLETCHER, on his translation to _London_, \u201cbestowed in allowances\nand gratifications to divers attendants [indeed we are not expressly\ntold, they were _female_] about her majesty, the sum of 3100_l._ which\nmoney was given by him, for the most part of it, _by her majesty\u2019s\ndirection and special appointment_.\u201d Mem. vol. ii. p. 113. And the\ncuriosity is, to find this minute of episcopal _gratifications_ in\na petition presented to the queen herself, \u201cTo move her majesty in\ncommiseration towards the orphans of this bishop.\u201d\u2014However, to do the\nladies justice, the contagion of bribery was so general in that reign,\nthat the greatest men in the court were infected by it. The lord-keeper\nPUCKERING, it seems, had a finger in the affair of the 100_l._; nay,\nhimself speaks to the lady to get him commanded by the queen to favour\nthe suit. And we are told, that Sir W. RALEIGH had no less than\n10,000_l._ for his interest with the queen on a certain occasion, after\nhaving been invited to this service by the finest letter that ever was\nwritten.\u2014Indeed it is not said how much of this secret service money\nwent _in allowances and gratifications to the attendants about the\nqueen\u2019s majesty_, vol. ii. p. 497.\n\n[103] Lord BACON made the same excuse for _his_ bribery; as he had\nlearnt, perhaps, the trade itself from his royal mistress. It was a\nrule with this great chancellor, \u201cNot to sell injustice, but never to\nlet justice go scot-free.\u201d\n\n[104] See _Hist. Collections_, by H. TOWNSHEND, Esq.; p. 268. _Lond._\n1680.\u2014The lord-keeper too, in a speech in the star-chamber, confirms\nthis charge on the country justices. \u201cThe thirst, says he, after this\nauthority, proceedeth from nothing but an ambitious humour of gaining\nof reputation amongst their neighbours; that still, when they come\nhome, _they may be presented with presents_.\u201d Ibid. p. 355.\n\n[105] When the queen declared to Sir JAMES MELVIL her resolution of\nvirginity, \u201cI know the truth of that, madam, (said he); you need not\ntell it me. Your majesty thinks, if you were married, you would be but\nqueen of _England_; and now you are both king and queen. _I know your\nspirit cannot endure a commander._\u201d MEM. p. 49. This was frank. But Sir\nJAMES MELVIL was too well seen in courts to have used this language,\nif he had not understood it would be welcome. Accordingly, the queen\u2019s\nhighness did not seem displeased with the imputation.\n\n[106] This was a common topick of complaint against the queen; or at\nleast her ministers, and gave occasion to that reproof of the poet\nSPENSER, which the persons concerned could hardly look upon as very\ndecent,\n\n    \u201cScarce can a bishoprick forepass them bye\n     But that it must be gelt in privity.\u201d\n                      Mother HUBBARD\u2019S _Tale_.\n\nBut a bishop of that time carries the charge still further. In one of\nhis sermons at court before the queen, \u201cParsonages and vicarages, says\nhe, seldom pass now-a-days from the patron, but either for the lease,\nor the present money. Such merchants are broken into the church of God,\na great deal more intolerable than were they whom CHRIST whipped out\nof the temple.\u201d\u2014This language is very harsh, and surely not deserved\nby the Protestant patrons of those days, who were only, as we may\nsuppose, for reducing the church of CHRIST to its pure and primitive\nstate of indigence and suffering. How edifying is it to hear St. PAUL\nspeak of his being\u2014_In hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold\nand nakedness!_ And how perfectly reformed would our church be, if its\nministers were but once more in this blessed apostolical condition!\n\n[107] It was this circumstance that seemed to weigh most with the\nLord Chancellor BACON; who, in his short tract, _In felicem memoriam_\nELIZABETH\u00c6, saith, \u201cIllud cogitandum censeo, in quali populo imperium\ntenuerit: si enim in Palmyrenis, aut Asi\u00e2 imbelli et molli regnum\nsortita esset, min\u00f9s mirandum fuisset\u2014ver\u00f9m in ANGLIA, _natione\nferocissim\u00e2 et bellicosissim\u00e2_, omnia ex nutu f\u0153min\u00e6 moveri et cohiberi\npotuisse, SUMMAM MERITO ADMIRATIONEM HABET.\u201d\n\n[108] The subject of these Dialogues, on _the English Constitution_,\nis the most important in _English_ politics.\u2014To cite all the passages\nfrom our best antiquaries and historians, out of which this work was\nformed, and which lay before the writer in composing it, would swell\nthis volume to an immoderate size. It is enough to say, that nothing\n_material_ is advanced in the course of the argument, but on the best\nauthority.\n\n[109] That is, of the _feudal law_: which was one of the subjects\nexplained by the bishop to his royal pupil the duke of _Gloucester_. \u201cI\nacquainted him, says he, with all the great revolutions that had been\nin the world, and gave him a copious account of the _Greek_ and _Roman_\nhistories, and of PLUTARCH\u2019S Lives: the last thing I explained to him\nwas the Gothic constitution, and the BENEFICIARY AND FEUDAL LAWS.\u201d\n[HIST. _of his own Times_, vol. iv. p. 357. _Edinb._ 1753.]\n\n[110] On _April 11, 1689_.\n\n[111] Of the great seal\u2014The other lawyers in commission were KECK and\nRAWLINSON.\n\n[112] This was a favourite subject with our good bishop; and how\nqualified he was to discuss it, even in its minutest particularities,\nmay be learnt from his history at large.\n\n[113] It was not thus _left to itself_, but was nursed and fostered\nwith great care by the preachers of _divine indefeasible hereditary\nright_, in this and the following reign.\n\n[114] This casual remark seems to determine a famous dispute among\nthe Antiquaries on the subject before us. Bishop NICOLSON attended\nso little to this tralatitious use of words, in which all languages\nabound, that finding LAGA in several places signified a _country_, he\nwould needs have it that CAMDEN, LAMBARDE, SPELMAN, COWELL, SELDEN,\nand all our best Antiquaries, were mistaken, when they supposed _Laga_\never signified, in the compositions here mentioned, a _law_. However,\nhis adversaries among the Antiquaries were even with him; and finding\nthat _Laga_, in these compositions, did signify a law in several\nplaces of our ancient laws, historians, and lawyers, deny that it ever\nsignifies a _country_. Each indeed had a considerable object in view;\nthe one was bent on overthrowing a system; the other on supporting it;\nnamely, that famous threefold body of laws, the _Danish_, _Mercian_,\nand _West-Saxon_. It must be owned, the bishop could not overthrow\nthe common system, without running into his extreme: it seems, his\nopponents might have supported it without running into theirs.\n\n[115] See _Historical Law-Tracts_, vol. i. p. 294.\n\n[116] MILTON did not forget to observe, in his _Tenure of kings and\nmagistrates_, That WILLIAM the _Norman_, though a Conqueror, and not\nunsworn at his Coronation, was compelled a second time to take oath at\n_St. Albans_, ere the people would be brought to yield obedience. Vol.\ni. _of his Prose works_, 4^{to}, 1753. p. 345.\n\n[117] HENRY VII.\n\n[118] HENRY VIII.\n\n[119] ELIZABETH.\n\n[120] PROPRIA FEUDI NATURA EST UT SIT PERPETUA.\n\n  CUJACIUS, LITTLETON.\n\n[121] CRAIG\u2019S _Jus feudale_, lib. i. p. 21. _Lond._ 1655.\n\n[122] This account of the _Saxon_ benefices is much confirmed by the\nfamous charter of Bishop OSWALD, and the comment of Sir H. SPELMAN upon\nit. See his discourse on FEUDS and TENURES.\n\n[123] MATTHEW PARIS gives us the following account of this\nmatter\u2014\u201cEpiscopatus et Abbatias omnes, qu\u00e6 baronias tenebant, et\neatenus ab omni servitute s\u00e6culari libertatem habuerant, sub servitute\nstatuit militari, inrotulans singulos episcopatus et abbatias pro\nvoluntate su\u00e2, quot milites sibi et successoribus suis, hostilitatis\ntempore, voluit \u00e0 singulis exhiberi. Et ROTULOS HUJUS ECCLESIASTIC\u00c6\nSERVITUTIS ponens in thesauris, multos viros ecclesiasticos HUIC\nCONSTITUTIONI PESSIM\u00c6 reluctantes, \u00e0 regno fugavit.\u201d\n\n  HIST. ANG. WILLIELMUS CONQ\u00c6STOR.\n\n[124] The learned CRAIG, who has written so largely and accurately on\nthe feudal law, was so far from seeing any thing servile in it, that he\nsays, \u201cThe foundations of this discipline are laid in the most generous\nof all considerations, those of GRATITUDE. _Hujus feudalis disciplin\u00e6\nfundamenta \u00e0 gratitudine et ingratitudine descendunt._\u201d EPIST. NUNCUP.\nto K. JAMES.\n\n[125] This bounty in so wise a prince as WILLIAM will be thought\nstrange. I believe it may be, in part, accounted for, from what is\nobserved above of the _Saxon_ allodial lords. These had possessed\nimmense estates. And, as they fell in upon forfeiture, the great\n_Norman_ adventurers would of course expect to come into the entire\nsuccession.\u2014Perhaps too, in that confusion of affairs, the prince\nmight not always, himself, be apprized of the extent and value of these\npossessions.\n\n[126] The law of EDWARD the Confessor is express to this purpose, and\nit was ratified by the Conqueror\u2014\u201cDebet rex omnia rit\u00e8 facere in regno\net per judicium procerum regni.\u201d Sir H. SPELMAN of Parliaments, p. 58.\n\n[127] M. DE MONTESQUIEU observes of the Gothic government\u2014\u201cIl fut\nd\u2019abord mel\u00e9 de l\u2019aristocratie, et de la monarchie. Il avoit cet\ninconvenient, que le bas-peuple y \u00e9toit esclave: _C\u2019\u00e9toit un bon\ngouvernment, qui avoit en soi la capacit\u00e9 de devenir meilleur._\u201d [l.\nxi. c. 8.]\u2014the very idea, which is here inculcated.\n\n[128] See old FORTESCUE, in his book _De laudibus legum Angli\u00e6_, where\nthis sort of analogy is pursued at length through a great part of the\nXIII^{th} chapter.\n\n[129] Agreeably to what Sir H. SPELMAN asserts, in his Glossary, of\nits parent, the _feudal law_ itself; \u201cDE LEGE FEUDALI\u2014pronunciandum\ncenseo, TEMPORIS eam esse filiam, sensimque succrescentem, EDICTIS\nPRINCIPUM auctam indies excultam.\u201d In voce FEODUM.\n\n[130] DISS. AD FLET. 1091. and WILLIAM OF MALMESBURY, lib. iv. 1. 69.\n_Lond._ 1596.\n\n[131] SELDEN\u2019S Works, vol. ii. p. 1082.\n\n[132] DISS. AD FLET. 1078.\n\n[133] Dr. DUCK, _De usu et authoritate juris civilis_, p. 103. _Lugd.\nBatav._ 1654.\n\n[134] POLICRATIC. lib. viii. c. 22. p. 672. _Lugd. Bat._ 1639.\n\n[135] DISS. AD FLET. 1082.\n\n[136] DISS. AD FLET. 1097.\n\n[137] Dr. DUCK, p. 364.\n\n[138] DISC. Part I. p. 78. _Lond._ 1739.\n\n[139] At MERTON, in the year 1236.\n\n[140] DISS. AD FLET. 1108.\n\n[141] See FORTESCUE, _De laudibus leg. Angl._ p. 74. _Lond._ 1741; and\nSELDEN\u2019S JANUS ANGLORUM, 1610, vol. ii. tom. ii.\n\n[142] DISS. AD FLET. 1104.\n\n[143] Dr. DUCK, p. 365.\n\n[144] DISS. AD FLET. 1010.\n\n[145] DISS. AD FLET. 1106.\n\n[146] P. 1046.\n\n[147] Mr. SELDEN\u2019S DISS. AD FLET. 1100.\n\n[148] _De laud. leg. Ang._ c. 33, 34.\n\n[149] DISS. AD FLET. 1102.\n\n[150] The speaker might have begun this account of the _fate and\nfortunes_ of the civil law still higher. NAT. BACON, speaking of\nHENRY the Fifth\u2019s reign, observes, \u201cThe times were now come about,\nwherein light began to spring forth, conscience to bestir itself, and\nmen to study the scriptures. This was imputed to the idleness and\ncarelessness of the clergy, who suffered the minds of young scholars to\nluxuriate into errors of divinity, for want of putting them on to other\nlearning; and gave no encouragement to studies of human literature,\nby preferring those that were deserving. The convocation taking this\ninto consideration, do decree, that no person should exercise any\njurisdiction in any office, as _vicar-general_, _commissary_, or\n_official_, or otherwise, unless he shall first in the university have\ntaken degrees in the CIVIL OR CANON LAWS. A shrewd trick this was,\nto stop the growth of the study of divinity, and WICKLIFF\u2019S way; and\nto embellish men\u2019s minds with a kind of learning that may gain them\npreferment, or at least an opinion of abilities beyond the common\nstrain, and dangerous to be meddled with. Like some gallants, that\nwear swords as badges of honour, and to bid men beware, because they\npossibly may strike, though in their own persons they may be very\ncowards. And no less mischievously intended was this against the rugged\nCOMMON LAW, a rule so nigh allied to the gospel-way, as it favoureth\nliberty; and so far estranged from the way of the civil and canon law,\nas there is no hope of accommodation till Christ and Antichrist have\nsought the field.\u201d DISC. Part II. p. 90. _Lond._ 1739.\n\n[151] It should however be observed, in honour of their patriotism,\nthat \u201cthey afterwards took themselves out of it,\u201d when they saw the\nextremities to which the popular party were driving.\n\n[152] This alludes to the proceedings against the _eleven members_ upon\nthe charge of the Army. Sir JOHN MAYNARD was one of them. And when\narticles of high treason were preferred against him, and the trial was\nto come on before the lords, he excepted to the jurisdiction of the\ncourt, and, by a written paper presented to them, required to be tried\nby his peers according to _Magna Charta, and the law of the land_. See\nWHITLOCKE\u2019S _Memorials_; and a short pamphlet written on that occasion,\ncalled THE ROYAL QUARREL, dated 9th of _Feb._ 1647.\u2014Sir JOHN was, at\nthis time, a close prisoner in the Tower.\n\n[153] See his speech, inserted in his _Memorials of English Affairs,\nNov. 1649_.\n\n[154] DISC. Part I. p. 78.\n\n[155] The reader may not be displeased to see the words of old\nFORTESCUE on this subject of the origin of the _English_ government,\nwhich are very remarkable. In his famous book _De laudibus legum\nAngli\u00e6_, he distinguishes between the REGAL and POLITICAL forms of\ngovernment. In explaining the _latter_, which he gives us as the proper\nform of the _English_ government, he expresseth himself in these\nwords\u2014\u201cHabes instituti omnis POLITICI REGNI formam, ex qu\u00e2 metiri\npoteris potestatem, quam rex ejus in leges ipsius aut subditos valeat\nexercere: ad tutelam namque legis subditorum, ac eorum corporum et\nbonorum rex hujusmodi erectus est, et hanc potestatem A POPULO EFFLUXAM\nipse habet, quo ei non licet potestate ali\u00e2 _suo populo dominari_.\u201d\nCAP. xiii.\n\n[156] It may be of little moment to us, at this day, to inquire,\nhow far the princes of the house of STUART were blameable for their\nendeavours to usurp on the constitution. But it must ever be of the\nhighest moment to maintain, that we had a constitution to assert\nagainst them. Party-writers perpetually confound these two things. It\nis the author\u2019s purpose, in these two Dialogues, to contend for the\n_latter_.\n\n[157] See the late History of England by DAVID HUME, esq.; who forms\nthe apology of the house of STUART on these principles.\n\n\n[Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\nInconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.\n\nInconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]","title":"The works of Richard Hurd, volume 3 (of 8)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":75254}