me to come into this opinion of her moderation. On the other hand, her
government appears to me, in many instances, OPPRESSIVE, and highly
prejudicial to the ancient rights and privileges of her people. For
what other construction can we make of her frequent interposition
to restrain the counsels of their representatives in parliament:
threatening some, imprisoning others, and silencing all with the
thunder of her prerogative? Or, when she had suffered their counsels to
ripen into bills, what shall we say of her high and mighty rejection of
them, and that not in single and extraordinary cases, but in matters
of ordinary course, and by dozens? I pass by other instances. But was
her _moderation_ seen in dilapidating the revenues of the church; of
that church, which she took under the wing of her supremacy, and would
be thought to have sheltered from all its enemies[106]. The honest
archbishop PARKER, I have heard, ventured to remonstrate against this
abuse, the cognizance of which came so directly within his province.
But to what effect, may be gathered, not only from the continuance
of these depredations, but her severe reprehension of another of her
bishops, whom she threatened with an oath to UNFROCK—that was her
majesty’s own word—if he did not immediately give way to her princely
extortions.
It may be hardly worth while to take notice of smaller matters. But
who does not resent her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of
her servants as presumed to deviate, on any pretence, from her good
pleasure; nay, such as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it
stood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, I know, may be
said to excuse the proceedings against the queen of _Scots_. But the
fate of DAVISON will reflect eternal dishonour on the policy, with
which that measure was conducted.
I run over these things hastily, continued Mr. ADDISON, and in no
great order: but you will see what to conclude from these hints; which
taken together, I believe, may furnish a proper answer to the most
considerable parts of your apology.
To sum it up in few words. Those two great events of her time, THE
ESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, and THE TRIUMPH OVER THE POWER OF
SPAIN, cast an uncommon lustre on the reign of ELIZABETH. Posterity,
dazzled with these obvious successes, went into an excessive admiration
of her personal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more,
is the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on
the one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that, on
the first glance, her government should appear able, and even glorious.
Yet, in looking into particulars, we find that much is to be attributed
to fortune, as well as skill; and that her glory is even lessened by
considerations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it.
The difficulties, she had to encounter, were great. Yet these very
difficulties, of themselves, created the proper means to surmount
them. They sharpened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the
affections, of a whole people. The name of her great enemy on the
continent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in
reality, much less than it appeared. The _Spanish_ empire was corrupt
and weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a secret
even to the _Spaniard_ himself. In the mean time, the confidence,
which the opinion of great strength inspires, was a favourable
circumstance. It occasioned a remissness and neglect of counsel
on one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost vigilance and
circumspection on the other. But this was not all. The religious feuds
in the Low Countries—the civil wars in _France_—the distractions of
_Scotland_—all concurred to advance the fortunes of ELIZABETH. Yet all
had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis of her fate, and, as
it fell out, of her glory, if the conspiring elements themselves had
not fought for her.
Such is the natural account of her foreign triumphs. Her domestic
successes admit as easy a solution. Those external dangers themselves,
the genius of the time, the state of religious parties, nay, the very
factions of her court, all of them directly, or by the slightest
application of her policy, administered to her greatness. Such was the
condition of the times, that it forced her to assume the resemblance,
at least, of some popular _virtues_: and so singular her fortune, that
her very _vices_ became as respectable, perhaps more useful to her
reputation, than her virtues. She was vigilant in her counsels; careful
in the choice of her servants; courteous and condescending to her
subjects. She appeared to have an extreme tenderness for the interests,
and an extreme zeal for the honour, of the nation. This was the bright
side of her character; and it shone the brighter from the constant and
imminent dangers, to which she was exposed. On the other hand, she was
choleric, and imperious; jealous, timid, and avaricious: oppressive,
as far as she durst; in many cases capricious, in some tyrannical.
Yet these vices, some of them sharpened and refined her policy, and
the rest, operating chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents,
strengthened her authority, and rooted her more firmly in the hearts
of the people. The mingled splendour of these qualities, good and bad
(for even her worst had the luck, when seen but on one side, or in
well-disposed lights to look like good ones) so far dazzled the eyes
of all, that they did not, or would not, see many outrageous acts of
tyranny and oppression.
And thus it hath come to pass that, with some ability, more cunning,
and little real virtue, the name of ELIZABETH is, by the concurrence
of many accidental causes, become the most revered of any in the long
roll of our princes. How little she merited this honour, may appear
from this slight sketch of her character and government. Yet, when all
proper abatement is made in both, I will not deny her to have been
a great, that is, a _fortunate_, queen; in this, perhaps, the most
fortunate, that she has attained to so unrivalled a glory with so few
pretensions to deserve it.
And so, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, you have concluded your invective in
full form, and rounded it, as the ancient orators used to do, with
all the advantage of a peroration. But, setting aside this trick of
eloquence, which is apt indeed to confound a plain man, unused to such
artifices, I see not but you have left the argument much as you took
it up; and that I may still have leave to retain my former reverence
for the good old times of queen ELIZABETH. It is true, she had some
foibles. You have spared, I believe, none of them. But, to make amends
for these defects, let but the history of her reign speak for her, I
mean in its own artless language, neither corrupted by flattery, nor
tortured by invidious glosses; and we must ever conceive of her, I
will not say as the most faultless, perhaps not the most virtuous,
but surely the most able, and, from the splendour of some leading
qualities, the most glorious of our _English_ monarchs.
To give you my notion of her in few Words.—For the dispute, I find,
must end, as most others usually do, in the simple representation of
our own notions.—She was discreet, frugal, provident, and sagacious;
intent on the pursuit of her great ends, _the establishment of
religion_, and _the security and honour of her people_: prudent in
the choice of the best _means_ to effect them, the employment of able
servants, and the management of the public revenue; dexterous at
improving all advantages which her own wisdom or the circumstances
of the times gave her: fearless and intrepid in the execution of
great designs, yet careful to unite the deepest foresight with her
magnanimity. If she seemed AVARICIOUS, let it be considered that the
nicest frugality was but necessary in her situation: if IMPERIOUS,
that a female government needed to be made respectable by a shew
of authority: and if at any time OPPRESSIVE, that the _English_
constitution, as it then stood, as well as her own nature, had a good
deal of that bias.
In a word, let it be remembered, that she had the honour of
ruling[107], perhaps of forming, the wisest, the bravest, the most,
virtuous people, that have adorned any age or country; and that she
advanced the glory of the _English_ name and that of her own dignity to
a height, which has no parallel in the annals of our nation.
Mr. DIGBY, who had been very attentive to the course of this debate,
was a little disappointed with the conclusion of it. He thought to have
settled his judgment of this reign by the information his two friends
should afford him. But he found himself rather perplexed by their
altercations, than convinced by them. He owned, however, the pleasure
they had given him; and said, he had profited so much at least by the
occasion, that, for the future, he should conceive with something less
reverence of the great queen, and should proceed with less prejudice to
form his opinion of her character and administration.
Mr. ADDISON did not appear quite satisfied with this sceptical
conclusion; and was going to enforce some things, which he thought had
been touched too slightly, when Dr. ARBUTHNOT took notice that their
walk was now at an end; the path, they had taken, having by this time
brought them round again to the walls of the castle. Besides, he said,
he found himself much wearied with this exercise; though the warmth
of debate, and the opportunities he took of resting himself at times,
had kept him from complaining of it. He proposed, therefore, getting
into the coach as soon as possible; where, though the conversation was
in some sort resumed, there was nothing material enough advanced on
either side to make it necessary for me to continue this recital any
further.
DIALOGUE V.
ON THE
CONSTITUTION
OF THE
ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.
BETWEEN
SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS,
AND
BISHOP BURNET.
DIALOGUE V.
ON THE CONSTITUTION OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.
SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BISHOP BURNET[108].
TO DR. TILLOTSON.
Though the principles of nature and common sense do fully authorise
resistance to the civil magistrate in extreme cases, and of course
justify the late Revolution to every candid and dispassionate man; yet
I am sensible, my excellent friend, there are many prejudices which
hinder the glorious proceedings in that affair from being seen in
their true light. The principal of them, indeed, are founded on false
systems of policy, and those tied down on the consciences of men by
wrong notions of religion. And such as these, no doubt, through the
experience of a better government, and a juster turn of thinking, which
may be expected to prevail in our times, will gradually fall away of
themselves.
But there is another set of notions on this subject, not so easy to be
discredited, and which are likely to keep their hold on the minds even
of the more sober and considerate sort of men. For whatever advantage
the cause of liberty may receive from general reasonings on the origin
and nature of civil government, the greater part of our countrymen will
consider, and perhaps rightly, the inquiry into the constitution of
_their_ own government, as a question of FACT; that must be tried by
authorities and precedents only; and decided at last by the evidence of
historical testimony, not by the conclusions of philosophy or political
speculation.
Now, though we are agreed that this way of managing the controversy
must, when fully and fairly pursued, be much in favour of the new
settlement, yet neither, I think, is it for every man’s handling, nor
is the evidence resulting from it of a nature to compel our assent. The
argument is formed on a vast variety of particulars, to be collected
only from a large and intimate acquaintance with the antiquities,
laws, and usages of the kingdom. Our printed histories are not only
very short and imperfect; but the original records, which the curious
have in their possession, are either so obscure or so scanty, that a
willing adversary hath always in readiness some objection, or some
cavil at least, to oppose to the evidence that may be drawn from them.
Besides, appearances, even in the plainest and most unquestioned parts
of our history, are sometimes so contradictory; arising either from
the tyranny of the prince, the neglect of the people, or some other
circumstance of the times; and, to crown all, the question itself hath
been so involved by the disputations of prejudiced and designing men;
that the more intelligent inquirer is almost at a loss to determine for
himself, on which side the force of evidence lies.
On this account I have frequently thought with myself, that a right
good CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY of _England_ would be the noblest service
that any man, duly qualified for the execution of such a work, could
render to his country. For though, as I said, the subject be obscure in
itself, and perplexed by the subtilties which contending parties have
invented for the support of their several schemes; yet, from all I have
been able to observe in the course of my own reading, or conversation,
there is little doubt but that the form of the _English_ government
hath, at all times, been FREE. So that, if such a history were drawn up
with sufficient care out of our authentic papers and public monuments,
it would not only be matter of entertainment to the curious, but
the greatest security to every _Englishman_ of his religions and
civil rights. For what can be conceived, more likely to preserve and
perpetuate these rights, than the standing evidence which such a work
would afford, of the genuine spirit and temper of the constitution? Of
the principles of freedom[109], on which it was formed, and on which
it hath been continually and uniformly conducted? Our youth, who at
present amuse themselves with little more than the military part of our
annals, would then have an easy opportunity of seeing to the bottom of
all our civil and domestic broils. They would know on what pretences
the PREROGATIVE of our kings hath sometimes aspired to exalt itself
above controul; and would learn to revere the magnanimity of their
forefathers, who as constantly succeeded in their endeavours to reduce
it within the ancient limits and boundaries of the LAW. In a word,
they would no longer rest on the surface and outside, as it were, of
the _English_ affairs, but would penetrate the interior parts of our
constitution; and furnish themselves with a competent degree of civil
and political wisdom; the most solid fruit that can be gathered from
the knowledge and experience of past times.
And I am ready to think that such a provision as this, for the
instruction of the _English_ youth, may be the more requisite, on
account of that limited indeed, yet awful form of government, under
which we live. For, besides the name, and other ensigns of majesty, in
common with those who wear the most despotic crown, the whole execution
of our laws, and the active part of government, is in the hands of the
prince. And this pre-eminence gives him so respectable a figure in the
eyes of his subjects, and presents him so constantly, and with such
lustre of authority, to their minds, that it is no wonder they are
sometimes disposed to advance him, from the rank of first magistrate of
a free people, into that of supreme and sole arbiter of the laws.
So that, unless these prejudices are corrected by the knowledge of our
constitutional history, there is constant reason to apprehend, not only
that the royal authority may stretch itself beyond due bounds; but may
grow, at length, into that enormous tyranny, from which this nation
hath been at other times so happily, and now of late so wonderfully,
redeemed.
But I suffer myself to be carried by these reflexions much further than
I designed. I would only say to you, that, having sometimes reflected
very seriously on this subject, it was with the highest pleasure I
heard it discoursed of the other day by two of the most accomplished
lawyers of our age: the venerable Sir JOHN MAYNARD, who, for a long
course of years, hath maintained the full credit and dignity of his
profession; and Mr. SOMERS, who, though a young man, is rising apace,
and with proportionable merits, into all the honours of it.
I was very attentive, as you may suppose, to the progress of this
remarkable conversation; and, as I had the honour to bear a full share
in it myself, I may the rather undertake to give you a particular
account of it. I know the pleasure it will give you to see a subject,
you have much at heart, and which we have frequently talked over in the
late times, thoroughly, canvassed, and cleared up; as I think it must
be, to your entire satisfaction.
It was within a day or two after that great event, so pleasing to
all true _Englishmen_, THE CORONATION OF THEIR MAJESTIES[110], that
Mr. SOMERS and I went; as we sometimes used, to pass an evening with
our excellent friend, my Lord Commissioner[111]. I shall not need
to attempt his character to you, who know him so well. It is enough
to say, that his faculties and spirits are, even in this maturity of
age, in great vigour. And it seems as if this joyful Revolution, so
agreeable to his hopes and principles, had given a fresh spring and
elasticity to both.
The conversation of course turned on the late august ceremony; the
mention of which awakened a sort of rapture in the good old man, which
made him overflow in his meditations upon it. Seeing us in admiration
of the zeal which transported him, “Bear with me, said he, my young
friends. Age, you know, hath its privilege. And it may be, I use it
somewhat unreasonably. But I, who have seen the prize of liberty
contending for through half a century, to find it obtained at last
by a method so sure, and yet so unexpected, do you think it possible
that I should contain myself on such an occasion? Oh, if ye had lived
with me in those days, when such mighty struggles were made for public
freedom, when so many wise counsels miscarried, and so many generous
enterprises concluded but in the confirmation of lawless tyranny; if,
I say, ye had lived in those days, and now at length were able to
contrast with me, to the tragedies that were then acted, this safe,
this bloodless, this complete deliverance: I am mistaken, if the
youngest of you could reprove me for this joy, which makes me think I
can never say enough on so delightful a subject.
BP. BURNET.
Reprove you, my lord? Alas! we are neither of us so unexperienced in
what hath passed of late in these kingdoms, as not to rejoice with you
to the utmost for this astonishing deliverance. You know I might boast
of being among the first that wished for, I will not say projected, the
measures by which it hath been accomplished. And for Mr. SOMERS, the
church of _England_ will tell——
MR. SOMERS.
I confess, my warmest wishes have ever gone along with those who
conducted this noble enterprise. And I pretend to as sincere a
pleasure as any man, in the completion of it. Yet, if we were not
unreasonable at such a time, I might be tempted to mention one
circumstance, which, I know not how, a little abates the joy of these
triumphant gratulations.
SIR J. MAYNARD.
Is not the settlement then to your mind? Or hath any precaution been
neglected, which you think necessary for the more effectual security of
our liberties?
MR. SOMERS.
Not that. I think the provision for the people’s right as ample as
needs be desired. Or, if any further restrictions on the crown be
thought proper, it will now be easy for the people, in a regular
parliamentary way, to effect it. What I mean is a consideration of much
more importance.
BP. BURNET.
The pretended prince of WALES, you think, will be raising some
disturbance, or alarm at least, to the new government. I believe,
I may take upon me to give you perfect satisfaction upon that
subject[112].
MR. SOMERS.
Still your conjectures fall short or wide of my meaning. Our new
MAGNA CHARTA, as I love to call the _Declaration of Rights_, seems
a sufficient barrier against any future encroachments of the CROWN.
And I think, the pretended prince of WALES, whatever be determined of
his birth, a mere phantom, that may amuse, and perhaps disquiet, the
weaker sort for a while; but, if left to itself[113], will soon vanish
out of the minds of the PEOPLE. Not but I allow that even so thin a
pretence as this may, some time or other, be conjured up to disturb the
government. But it must be, when a certain set of principles are called
in aid to support it. And, to save you the further trouble of guessing,
I shall freely tell you, what those _principles_ are.—You will see, in
them, the ground of my present fears and apprehensions.
It might be imagined that so necessary a Revolution, as that which hath
taken place, would sufficiently approve itself to all reasonable men.
And it appears, in fact, to have done so, now that the public injuries
are fresh, and the general resentment of them strong and lively. But it
too often happens, that when the evil is once removed, it is presently
forgotten: and in matters of government especially, where the people
rarely think till they are made to feel, when the grievance is taken
away, the false system easily returns, and sometimes with redoubled
force, which had given birth to it.
BP. BURNET.
One can readily admit the principles. But the conclusion, you propose
to draw from them—
MR. SOMERS.
This very important one, “That, if the late change of government was
brought about, and can be defended only, on the principles of liberty;
the settlement, introduced by it, can be thought secure no longer than
while those principles are rightly understood, and generally admitted.”
BP. BURNET.
But what reason is there to apprehend that these principles, so
commonly professed and publickly avowed, will not continue to be kept
up in full vigour?
MR. SOMERS.
Because, I doubt, they are so commonly and publickly avowed, only to
serve a present turn; and not because they come from the heart, or are
entertained on any just ground of conviction.
BP. BURNET.
Very likely: and considering the pains that have been taken to possess
the minds of men with other notions of government, the wonder is, how
they came to be entertained at all. Yet surely the experience of better
times may be expected to do much. Men will of course think more justly
on these subjects in proportion as they find themselves more happy. And
thus the principles, which, as you say, were first pretended to out of
necessity, will be followed out of choice, and bound upon them by the
conclusions of their own reason.
MR. SOMERS.
I wish your lordship be not too sanguine in these expectations. It is
not to be conceived how insensible the people are to the blessings they
enjoy, and how easily they forget their past miseries. So that, if
their principles have not taken deep root, I would not answer for their
continuing much longer than it served their purpose to make a shew of
them.
SIR J. MAYNARD.
I must confess, that all my experience of mankind inclines me to this
opinion. I could relate to you some strange instances of the sort
Mr. SOMERS hints at. But after all, Sir, you do not indulge these
apprehensions, on account of the general fickleness of human nature.
You have some more particular reasons for concluding that the system
of liberty, which hath worked such wonders of late, is not likely to
maintain its ground amongst us.
MR. SOMERS.
I have: and I was going to explain those reasons, if my lord of
SALISBURY had not a little diverted me from the pursuit of them.