Chapter VIII (2)

Alas, said Mr. ADDISON, I shall never be able to follow you through all the particulars of this encomium: and, to say the truth, it would be to little purpose; since the wisdom of her policy, in all these instances of her government, can only be estimated from a careful perusal of the histories of that time; too numerous and contradictory to be compared and adjusted in this conversation. All I can do, continued he, after taking a moment or two to recollect himself, is to abate the force of this panegyric by some general observations of the CIRCUMSTANCES and GENIUS of that time; and then to consider the personal QUALITIES of the queen, which are thought to reflect so great a lustre on her government.

As you please, Dr. ARBUTHNOT replied. We shall hardly lose ourselves in this beaten field of history. And, besides, as your undertaking is so adventurous, it is but reasonable you should have the choice of your own method.

You are in the common opinion, I perceive, resumed Mr. ADDISON, that ELIZABETH’S government was attended with all possible disadvantages. On the contrary, it appears to me that the security and even splendour of her reign is chiefly to be accounted for from the fortunate CIRCUMSTANCES of her situation.

Of these the FIRST, that demands our notice, is the great affair of religion.

The principles of PROTESTANTISM had now for many years been working among the people. They had grown to that head in the short reign of EDWARD VI. that the bloody severities of his successor served only to exasperate the zeal, with which these principles had been embraced and promoted. ELIZABETH, coming to the crown at this juncture, was determined, as well by interest as inclination, to take the side of the new religion. I say by _interest_, as well as inclination. And, I think, I have reason for the assertion. For though the persons in power, and the clergy throughout the kingdom, were generally professed papists; yet they were most of them such as had conformed in king EDWARD’S days, and were not therefore much to be feared for any tie, their _profession_ could really have on their consciences. Whereas, on the other hand, it was easy to see, from many symptoms, that the general bent of the nation was towards Protestantism; and that, too, followed with a spirit, which must in the end prevail over all opposition. Under these circumstances, then, it was natural for the queen, if she had not been otherwise led by her principles, and the interest of her title, to favour the Reformation.

The truth is, she came into it herself so heartily, and provided so effectually for its establishment, that we are not to wonder she became the idol of the Reformed, at the same time that the papal power through all _Europe_ was confederated against her. The enthusiasm of her Protestant subjects was prodigious. It was raised by other considerations; but confirmed in all orders of the state by the ease they felt in their deliverance from the tyranny of the church; and in the great especially, by the sweets they tasted in their enjoyment of the church-revenues. It was, in short, one of those extraordinary conjunctures, in which the public danger becomes the public security; when religion and policy, conscience and interest, unite their powers to support the authority of the prince, and to give fidelity, vigour, and activity to the obedience of the subject.

And thus it was, continued he, that so warm and unconquerable a zeal appeared in defence of the queen against all attempts of her enemies. Her people were so thoroughly Protestant, as to think no expence of her government too great, provided they could but be secured from relapsing into Popery. And her parliaments were disposed to wave all disputes about the stretch of her prerogative, from a sense of their own and the common danger.

In magnifying this advantage of the zeal and union of ELIZABETH’S good subjects, you forgot, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that two restless and inveterate factions were contending, all her lifetime, within her own kingdom.

I am so far from forgetting that circumstance, returned Mr. ADDISON, that I esteem it ANOTHER of the great advantages of her situation.

The contrary tendencies of those factions in some respects defeated each other. But the principal use of them was, that, by means of their practices, some domestic plot, or foreign alarm, was always at hand, to quicken the zeal and inflame the loyalty of her people. But to be a little more particular about the factions of her reign.

The PAPIST was, in truth, the only one she had reason to be alarmed at. The PURITAN had but just begun to shew himself, though indeed with that ferocity of air and feature, which signified clearly enough what spirit he was of, and what, in good time, he was likely to come to. Yet even he was kept in tolerable humour, by a certain commodious policy of the queen; which was, so to divide her regards betwixt the Church and the Puritans, as made it the interest of both to keep well with her. ’Tis true, these last felt the weight of her resentment sometimes, when they ventured too saucily to oppose themselves to the establishment. But this was rarely, and by halves: and, when checked with the most rigour, they had the satisfaction to see their patrons continue in the highest places at court, and, what is more, in the highest degree of personal favour.

And what doth all this shew, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but that she managed so well as to disarm a furious faction, or rather make it serve against the bent of its nature, to the wise ends of her government?

As to any wise ends of government, I see none, replied Mr. ADDISON, deserving to be so called, that were answered by her uncertain conduct towards the Puritans. For she neither restrained them with that severity, which might perhaps have prevented their growth, at first; nor shewed them that entire indulgence, which might have disabled their fury afterwards. It is true, this temporizing conduct was well enough adapted to prevent disturbances in her own time. But large materials were laid in for that terrible combustion, which was soon to break forth under one of her successors.

And so, instead of imputing the disasters that followed, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to the ill-government of the STUARTS, you are willing to lay the whole guilt of them on this last and greatest of the TUDORS. This is a new way of defending that royal house; and, methinks, they owe you no small acknowledgments for it. I confess, it never occurred to me to make that apology for them.

Though I would not undertake, said Mr. ADDISON, to make their apology from this, or any other, circumstance; I do indeed believe that part of the difficulties the house of STUART had to encounter, were brought upon them by this wretched policy of their predecessor. But, waving this consideration, I desire you will take notice of what I chiefly insist upon, “That the ease and security of ELIZABETH’S administration was even favoured by the turbulent practices and clashing views of her domestic factions.” The PURITAN was an instrument, in her hands, of controuling the church, and of balancing the power of her ministers: besides that this sort of people were, of all others, the most inveterate against the common enemy. And for the PAPISTS themselves (not to insist that, of course, they would be strictly watched, and that they were not, perhaps, so considerable as to create any immediate danger[84]), the general abhorrence both of their principles and designs had the greatest effect in uniting more closely, and cementing, as it were, the affections of the rest of her subjects. So that, whether within or without, the common danger, as I expressed it, was the common safety.

Still, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I must think this a very extraordinary conclusion. I have no idea of the security of the great queen, surrounded, as she was, by her domestic and foreign enemies.

Her foreign enemies, returned Mr. ADDISON, were less formidable than they appear at first view. And I even make the condition of the neighbouring powers on the Continent, in her time, a THIRD instance of the signal advantages of her situation.

It is true, if a perfect union had subsisted between the Catholic princes, the papal thunders would have carried terror with them. But, as it was, they were powerless and ineffectual. The civil wars of _France_, and its constant jealousy of _Spain_, left the queen but little to apprehend from that quarter. The _Spanish_ empire, indeed, was vast, and under the direction of a bigoted vindictive prince. But the administration was odious and corrupt in every part. So that wise men saw there was more of bulk than of force in that unwieldy monarchy. And the successful struggles of a handful of its subjects, inflamed by the love of liberty, and made furious by oppression, proclaimed its weakness to all the world.

It may be true, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that the queen had less to fear from the princes on the Continent, than is sometimes represented. But you forget, in this survey of the public dangers, the distractions of IRELAND, and the restless intrigues of her near neighbours, the SCOTS: both of them assisted by _Spain_; and these last under the peculiar influence and direction of the GUISES.

You shall have my opinion, returned Mr. ADDISON, in few words.

For the IRISH distractions, it was not the queen’s intention, or certainly it was not her fortune, to compose them: I mean, during the greatest part of her reign; for we are now speaking of the general tenor of her policy. Towards the close of it, indeed, she made some vigorous attempts to break the spirits of those savages. And it was high time she should. For, through her faint proceedings against them, they had grown to that insolence, as to think of setting up for an independency on _England_. Nay, the presumption of that arch-rebel TYRONE, countenanced and abetted by _Spain_, seemed to threaten the queen with still further mischiefs. The extreme dishonour and even peril of this situation roused her old age, at length, to the resolution of taking some effectual measures. The preparation was great, and suitable to the undertaking. It must, further, be owned, it succeeded: but so late, that she herself did not live to see the full effect of it. However, this success is reckoned among the glories of her reign. In the mean time, it is not considered that nothing but her ill policy, in suffering the disorders of that country to gather to a head, made way for this glory. I call it her _ill policy_, for unless it were rather owing to her excessive frugality[85] one can hardly help thinking she designed to perpetuate the _Irish_ distractions. At least, it was agreeable to a favourite maxim of hers, to check, and not to suppress them. And I think it clear, from the manner of prosecuting the war, that, till this last alarm, she never was in earnest about putting an end to it.

SCOTLAND, indeed, demanded a more serious attention. Yet the weak distracted counsels of that court—a minor king—a captive queen—and the unsettled state of _France_ itself, which defeated in a good degree the malice of the GUISES—were favourable circumstances.

But to be fair with you (for I would appear in the light of a reasonable objector, not a captious wrangler); I allow her policy in this instance to have been considerable. She kept a watchful eye on the side of _Scotland_. And, though many circumstances concurred to favour her designs, it must be owned they were not carried without much care and some wisdom.

I understand the value of this concession, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT. It must have been no common degree of both, that extorted it from you.

I decline entering further, said Mr. ADDISON, into the public transactions of that reign; if it were only that, at this distance of time, it may be no easy matter to determine any thing of the policy, with which they were conducted. Only give me leave to add, as a FOURTH instance of the favourable circumstances of the time, “That the prerogative was then in its height, and that a patient people allowed the queen to use it on all occasions.” Hence the apparent vigour and firmness of her administration: and hence the opportunity (which is so rarely found in our country) of directing the whole strength of the nation to any end of government, which the glory of the prince or the public interest required.

What you impute to the high strain of prerogative, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, might rather be accounted for from the ability of her government, and the wise means she took to support it. The principal of these was, by employing the GREATEST MEN in the several departments of her administration. Every kind of merit was encouraged by her smile[86], or rewarded by her bounty. Virtue, she knew, would thrive best on its native stock, a generous emulation. This she promoted by all means; by her royal countenance, by a temperate and judicious praise, by the wisest distribution of her preferments. Hence would naturally arise that confidence in the queen’s counsels and undertakings, which the servile awe of her prerogative could never have occasioned.

This is the true account of the loyalty, obedience, and fidelity, by which her servants were distinguished. And thus, in fact, it was that, throughout her kingdom, there was every where that reverence of authority[87], that sense of honour, that conscience of duty, in a word, that gracious simplicity of manners, which renders the age of ELIZABETH truly GOLDEN: as presenting the fairest picture of humanity, that is to be met with in the accounts of any people.

It is true, as you say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, that _this picture is a fair one_. But of what is it a copy? Of the GENIUS of the time, or of the queen’s virtues? You shall judge for yourself, after I have laid before you TWO remarkable events of that age, which could not but have the greatest effect on the public manners; I mean, THE REFORMATION OF RELIGION, and what was introductory of it, THE RESTORATION OF LETTERS. From these, as their proper sources, I would derive the ability and fidelity of ELIZABETH’S good subjects.

The passion for LETTERS was extreme. The novelty of these studies, the artifices that had been used to keep men from them, their apparent uses, and, perhaps, some confused notion of a certain diviner virtue than really belongs to them; these causes concurred to excite a curiosity in all, and determined those, who had leisure, as well as curiosity, to make themselves acquainted with the _Greek_ and _Roman_ learning. The ecclesiastics, who, for obvious reasons, would be the first and most earnest in their application to letters, were not the only persons transported with this zeal. The gentry and nobility themselves were seized with it. A competent knowledge of the old writers was looked upon as essential to a gentleman’s education. So that _Greek_ and _Latin_ became as fashionable at court in those days, as _French_ is in ours. ELIZABETH herself, which I wonder you did not put me in mind of, was well skilled in both[88]; they say, employed her leisure in making some fine translations out of either language. It is easy to see what effect this general attention to letters must have on the minds of the liberal and well-educated. And it was a happiness peculiar to that age, that learning, though cultivated with such zeal, had not as yet degenerated into pedantry: I mean, that, in those stirring and active times, it was cultivated, not so much for show, as use; and was not followed, as it soon came to be, to the exclusion of other generous and manly applications.

Consider, too, the effects, which the alterations in RELIGION had produced. As they had been lately made, as their importance was great, and as the benefits of the change had been earned at the expence of much blood and labour: all these considerations begot a zeal for religion, which hardly ever appears under other circumstances. This zeal had an immediate and very sensible effect on the morals of the Reformed. It improved them in every instance; especially as it produced a cheerful submission to the government, which had rescued them from their former slavery, and was still their only support against the returning dangers of superstition. Thus religion, acting with all its power, and that, too, heightened by gratitude and even self-interest, bound obedience on the minds of men with the strongest ties[89]. And luckily for the queen, this obedience was further secured to her by the high uncontroverted notions of royalty, which, at that time, obtained amongst the people.

Lay all this together; and then tell me where is the wonder that a people, now emerging out of ignorance; uncorrupted by wealth, and therefore undebauched by luxury; trained to obedience, and nurtured in simplicity; but, above all, caught with the love of learning and religion, while neither of them was worn for fashion-sake, or, what is worse, perverted to the ends of vanity or ambition; where, say, is the wonder that such a people should present so bright a picture of manner’s to their admiring panegyrist?

To be fair with you; it was one of those conjunctures, in which the active virtues are called forth, and rewarded. The dangers of the time had roused the spirit, and brought out all the force and genius, of the nation. A sort of enthusiasm had fired every man with the ambition of exerting the full strength of his faculties, which way soever they pointed, whether to the field, the closet, or the cabinet. Hence such a crop of soldiers, scholars, and statesmen had sprung up, as have rarely been seen to flourish together in any country. And as all owed their duty, it was the fashion of the times for all to bring their pretensions, to the court. So that, where the multitude of candidates was so great, it had been strange indeed, if an ordinary discretion had not furnished the queen with able servants of all sorts; and the rather, as her occasions loudly called upon her to employ the ablest.

I was waiting, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to see to what conclusion this career of your eloquence would at length drive you. And it hath happened in this case, as in most others where a favourite point is to be carried, that a zeal for it is indulged, though at the expence of some other of more importance. Rather than admit the personal virtues of the queen, you fill her court, nay, her kingdom, with heroes and sages: and so have paid a higher compliment to her reign, than I had intended.

To her _reign_, if you will, replied Mr. ADDISON, so far as regards the qualities and dispositions of her subjects: for I will not lessen the merit of this concession with you, by insisting, as I might, that their _manners_, respectable as they were, were debased by the contrary, yet very consistent, vices of servility and insolence[90]; and their virtues of every kind deformed by, barbarism. But, for the queen’s own merit in the choice of her servants, I must take leave to declare my sentiments to you very plainly. It may be true, that she possessed a good degree of sagacity in discerning the natures and talents of men. It was the virtue by which, her admirers tell us, she was principally distinguished. Yet, that the high fame of this virtue hath been owing to the felicity of the times, abounding in all sorts of merit, rather than to her own judgment, I think clear from this circumstance, “That some of the most deserving of those days, in their several professions, had not the fortune to attract the queen’s grace, in the proportion they might have expected.” I say nothing of poor SPENSER. Who has any concern for a poet[91]? But if merit alone had determined her majesty’s choice, it will hardly at this day admit a dispute, that the immortal HOOKER and BACON[92], at least, had ranked in another class than that, in which this great discerner of spirits thought fit to leave them.

And her character; continued he, in every other respect is just as equivocal. For having touched one part of it, I now turn from these general considerations on the circumstances and genius of the time, to our more immediate subject, the PERSONAL QUALITIES of ELIZABETH. Hitherto we have stood aloof from the queen’s person. But there is no proceeding a step further in this debate, unless you allow me a little more liberty. May I then be permitted to draw the veil of ELIZABETH’S court, and, by the lights which history holds out to us, contemplate the mysteries, that were celebrated in that awful sanctuary?

After so reverend a preface, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I think you may be indulged in this liberty. And the rather, as I am not apprehensive that the honour of the illustrious queen is likely to suffer by it. The secrets of her cabinet-council, it may be, are not to be scanned by the profane. But it will be no presumption to step into the drawing-room.

Yet I may be tempted, said Mr. ADDISON, to use a freedom in this survey of her majesty, that would not have been granted to her most favoured courtiers. As far as I can judge of her character, as displayed in that solemn scene of her court, she had some apparent VIRTUES, but more genuine VICES; which yet, in the public eye, had equally the fortune to reflect a lustre on her government.

Her gracious affability, her love of her people, her zeal for the national glory; were not these her more obvious and specious qualities? Yet I doubt they were not so much the proper effects of her nature, as her policy; a set of spurious virtues, begotten by the very necessity of her affairs.

For her AFFABILITY, she saw there was no way of being secure amidst the dangers of all sorts, with which she was surrounded; but by ingratiating herself with the body of the people. And, though in her nature she was as little inclined to this condescension as any of her successors, yet the expediency of this measure compelled her to save appearances. And it must be owned, she did it with grace, and even acted her part with spirit. Possibly the consideration of her being a female actor, was no disadvantage to her.

But, when she had made this sacrifice to interest, her proper temper shewed itself clearly enough in the treatment of her nobles, and of all that came within the verge of the court. Her caprice, and jealousy, and haughtiness, appeared in a thousand instances. She took offence so easily, and forgave so difficultly, that even her principal ministers could hardly keep their ground, and were often obliged to redeem her favour by the lowest submissions. When nothing else would do, they sickened, and were even at death’s door: from which peril, however, she would sometimes relieve them; but not till she had exacted from them, in the way of penance, a course of the most mortifying humiliations. Nay, the very ladies of her court had no way to maintain their credit with her, but by, submitting patiently to the last indignities.

It is allowed, from the instances you have in view, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that her nature was something high and imperious. But these sallies of passion might well enough consist with her general character of affability.

Hardly, as I conceive, answered Mr. ADDISON, if you reflect that these sallies, or rather habits of passion, were the daily terror and vexation of all about her. Her very minions seemed raised for no other purpose, than the exercise of her ill-humour. They were encouraged, by her smile, to presume on the royal countenance, and then beaten down again in punishment of that presumption. But, to say the truth, the slavish temper of the time was favourable to such exertions of female caprice and tyranny. Her imperious father, all whose virtues, she inherited, had taught her a sure way to quell the spirit of her nobles. They had been long used to stand in awe of the royal frown. And the people were pleased to find their betters ruled with so high a hand, at a time when they themselves were addressed with every expression of respect, and even flattery.

She even carried this mockery so far, that, as HARRINGTON observes well, “she converted her reign, through the perpetual love-tricks that passed between her and her people, into a kind of romance.” And though that political projector, in prosecution of his favourite notion, supposes the queen to have been determined to these intrigues by observing, that the weight of property was fallen into the popular scale; yet we need look no further for an account of this proceeding, than the inherent haughtiness of her temper. She gratified the insolence of her nature, in neglecting, or rather beating down, her nobility, whose greatness might seem to challenge respect: while the court, she paid to the people, revolted her pride less, as passing only upon herself, as well as others, for a voluntary act of affability. Just as we every day see very proud men carry it with much loftiness towards their equals, or those who and raised to some nearness of degree to themselves; at the same time that they affect a sort of courtesy to such, as are confessedly beneath them.

You see, then, what her boasted affability comes to. She gave good words to her people, whom it concerned her to be well with, and whom her pride itself allowed her to _manage_: she insulted her nobles, whom she had in her power, and whose abasement flattered the idea, she doted upon, of her own superiority and importance[93].

Let the queen’s manner of treating her subjects be what it would, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, it appears to have given no offence in those days, when the sincerity of her intentions was never questioned. Her whole life is a convincing argument; that she bore the most entire affection to her people.

HER LOVE OF HER PEOPLE, returned Mr. ADDISON hastily, is with me a very questionable virtue. For what account shall we give of the multitude of penal statutes, passed in her reign? Or, because you will say, there was some colour for these; what excuse shall we make for her frequent grants of monopolies, so ruinous to the public wealth and happiness, and so perpetually complained of by her parliaments? You will say, she recalled them. She did so. But not till the general indignation had, in a manner, forced her to recall them. If by her _people_, be meant those of the poorer and baser sort only, it may be allowed, she seemed on all occasions willing to spare them. But for those of better rank and fortune, she had no such consideration. On the other hand, she contrived in many ways to pillage and distress them. It was the tameness of that time, to submit to every imposition of the sovereign. She had only to command her gentry on any service she thought fit, and they durst not decline it. How many of her wealthiest and best subjects did she impoverish by these means (though under colour, you may be sure, of her high favour); and sometimes by her very visits! I will not be certain, added he, that her visit to this pompous castle of her own LEICESTER, had any other intention.

But what, above all, are we to think of her vow of celibacy, and her obstinate refusal to settle the succession, though at the constant hazard of the public peace and safety?

You are hard put to it, I perceive, interrupted. Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to impeach the character of the queen in this instance, when a few penal laws, necessary to the support of her crown in that time of danger; one wrong measure of her government, and that corrected; the ordinary use of her prerogative; and even her virginity; are made crimes of. But I am curious to hear what you have to object to her ZEAL FOR THE ENGLISH GLORY, carried so high in her reign; and the single point, as it seems to me, to which all her measures and all her counsels were directed.

The _English_ glory, Mr. ADDISON said, may, perhaps, mean the state and independency of the crown. And then, indeed, I have little to object. But, in any other sense of the word, I have sometimes presumed to question with myself, if it had not been better consulted, by more effectual assistance of the Reformed on the Continent; by a more vigorous prosecution of the war against _Spain_[94]; as I hinted before, by a more complete reduction of _Ireland_. But say, we are no judges of those high matters. What glory accrued to the _English_ name, by the insidious dealing with the queen of _Scots_; by the vindictive proceedings against the duke of _Norfolk_; by the merciless persecutions of the unhappy earl of _Essex_? The same spirit, you see, continued from the beginning of this reign to the end of it. And the observation is the better worth attending to, because some have excused the queen’s treatment of ESSEX by saying, “That her nature, in that decline of life, was somewhat clouded by apprehensions; as the horizon, they observe, in the evening of the brightest day, is apt to be obscured by vapours[95].” As if this fanciful simile, which illustrates perhaps, could excuse, the perverseness of the queen’s temper; or, as if that could deserve to pass for an incident of age, which operated through life; and so declares itself to have been the proper result of her nature.

You promised, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, not to pry too closely into the secrets of the cabinet. And such I must needs esteem the points to be, which you have mentioned. But enough of these beaten topics. I would rather attend you in the survey you promised to take of her court, and of the princely qualities that adorned it. It is from what passes in the inside of his palace, rather than from some questionable public acts, that the real character of a prince is best determined. And there, methinks, you have a scene opened to you, that deserves your applause. Nothing appears but what is truly royal. Nobody knew better, than ELIZABETH, how to support the decorum of her rank. She presided in that high orb with the dignity of a great queen. In all emergencies of danger, she shewed a firmness, and, on all occasions of ceremony, a magnificence, that commanded respect and admiration. Her very diversions were tempered with a severity becoming her sex and place, and which made her court, even in its lightest and gayest humours, a school of virtue.

These are the points, concluded he, I could wish you to speak to. The rest may be left to the judgment of the historian, or rather to the curiosity of the nice and critical politician.

You shall be obeyed, Mr. ADDISON said. I thought it not amiss to take off the glare of those applauded qualities, which have dazzled the public at a distance, by shewing that they were either feigned or over-rated. But I come now to unmask the real character of this renowned princess. I shall paint her freely indeed, but truly as she appears to me. And, to speak my mind at once; I think it is not so much to her virtues, which at best were equivocal, as to her very VICES, that we are to impute the popular admiration of her character and government.

I before took notice of the high, indecent PASSION, she discovered towards her courtiers. This fierceness of temper in the softer sex was taken for heroism; and, falling in with the slavish principles of the age, begot a degree of reverence in her subjects, which a more equal, that is a more becoming, deportment would not have produced. Hence, she was better served than most of our princes, only because she was more feared; in other words, because she less deserved to be so. But high as she would often carry herself in this unprincely, I had almost said, unwomanly, treatment of her servants; awing the men by her oaths, and her women by blows; it is still to be remembered, that she had a great deal of natural TIMIDITY in her constitution.

What! interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT hastily, the magnanimous ELIZABETH a coward? I should as soon have expected that charge against CÆSAR himself, or your own MARLBOROUGH.

I distinguish, Mr. ADDISON said, betwixt a parade of courage, put on to serve a turn, and keep her people in spirits, and that true greatness of mind, which, in one word, we call _magnanimity_. For this last, I repeat it, she either had it not, or not in the degree in which it has been ascribed to her. On the contrary, I see a littleness, a pusillanimity, in her conduct on a thousand occasions. Hence it was, that both to her people and such of the neighbouring states as she stood in awe of, she used an excessive hypocrisy, which, in the language of the court, you may be sure, was called policy. To the _Hollanders_, indeed, she could talk big; and it was not her humour to manage those over whom she had gained an ascendant. This has procured her, with many, the commendation of a princely magnanimity. But, on the other hand, when discontents were apprehended from her subjects, or when _France_ was to be diverted from any designs against her, no art was forgotten that might cajole their spirits with all the professions of cordiality and affection. Then she was _wedded_, that was the tender word, to her people: and then the interest of religion itself was sacrificed by this Protestant queen to her newly-perverted brother on the Continent.

Her foible, in this respect, was no secret to her ministers. But, above all, it was practised upon most successfully by the Lord BURGHLEY; “for whom, as I have seem it observed, it was as necessary that there should be treasons, as for the state that they should be prevented[96].” Hence it was, that he was perpetually raising her fears, by the discovery of some plot, or, when that was wanting, by the proposal of some law for her greater security. In short, he was for ever finding, or making, or suggesting, dangers. The queen, though she would look big (for indeed she was an excellent actress), startled at the shadows of those dangers, the slightest rumours. And to this convenient timidity of his mistress, so constantly alarmed, and relieved in turn by this wily minister, was owing, in a good degree, that long and unrivalled interest, he held in her favour.

Still, further, to this constitutional _fear_ (which might be forgiven to her sex, if it had not been so strangely mixed with a more than masculine ferocity in other instances) must be ascribed those favourite maxims of policy, which ran through her whole government. Never was prince more attached to the Machiavelian doctrine, DIVIDE ET IMPERA, than our ELIZABETH[97]. It made the soul of her policies, domestic and foreign. She countenanced the two prevailing factions of the time. The Churchmen and Puritans divided her favour so equally, that her favourites were sure to be the chiefs of the contending parties. Nay, her court was a constant scene of cabals and personal animosities. She gave a secret, and sometimes an open, countenance to these jealousies. The same principle directed all her foreign[98] negociations.

And are you not aware, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that this objected policy is the very topic that I, and every other admirer of the queen, would employ in commendation of her great ability in the art of government? It has been the fate of too many of our princes (and perhaps some late examples might be given) to be governed, and even insulted, by a prevailing party of their own subjects. ELIZABETH was superior to such attempts. She had no bye-ends to pursue. She frankly threw herself on her people. And, secure in their affection, could defeat at pleasure, or even divert herself with, the intrigues of this or that aspiring faction.

We understand you, Mr. ADDISON replied; but when two parties are contending within a state, and one of them only in its true interest, the policy is a little extraordinary that should incline the sovereign to discourage _this_, from the poor ambition of controuling _that_, or, as you put it still worse, from the dangerous humour of playing with _both_ parties. I say nothing of later times. I only ask; if it was indifferent, whether the counsels of the CECILS or of LEICESTER were predominant in that reign? But I mentioned these things before, and I touch them again now, only to shew you, that this conduct, however it may be varnished over by the name of wisdom, had too much the air of fearful womanish intrigue, to consist with that heroical firmness and intrepidity so commonly ascribed to queen ELIZABETH[99].

And what if, after all, I should admit, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that, in the composition of a woman’s courage, at least, there might be some scruples of discretion? Is there any advantage, worth contending for, you could draw from such a concession? Or, because you would be thought serious, I will put the matter more gravely. The arts of prudence, you arraign so severely, could not be taken for pusillanimity. They certainly were not, in her own time; for she was not the less esteemed or revered by all the nations of _Europe_ on account of them. The most you can fairly conclude is, that she knew how to unite address with bravery, and that, on occasion, she could _dissemble_ her high spirit. The difficulties of her situation obliged her to this management.

Rather say at once, returned Mr. ADDISON, that the constant dissimulation, for which she was so famous, was assumed to supply the want of a better thing, which had rendered all those arts as unnecessary as they were ignoble.

But _haughtiness_ and _timidity_, pursued he, were not the only vices that turned to good account in the queen’s hands. She was frugal beyond all bounds of decorum in a prince, or rather AVARICIOUS beyond all reasonable excuse from the public wants and the state of her revenue. Nothing is more certain than this fact, from the allowance both of friends and enemies. It seems as if, in this respect, her father’s example had not been sufficient; and that, to complete her character, she had incorporated with many of his, the leading vice of her grandfather.

Here Dr. ARBUTHNOT could not contain himself; and the castle happening at that time, from the point where they stood, to present the most superb prospect, “Look there, said he, on the striking, though small, remnants of that grandeur you just now magnified so much; and tell me if, in your conscience, you can believe such grants are the signs, or were the effects, of avarice. For you are not to learn, that this palace before us is not the only one in the kingdom, which bears the memory of the queen’s bounty to her servants.”

Mr. ADDISON seemed a little struck with the earnestness of this address: “It is true, said he, the queen’s fondness for one or two of her favourites made her sometimes lavish of her grants; especially of what cost her nothing, and did not, it seems, offend the delicacy of her scruples; I mean, of the _church-lands_. But at the same time her treasury was shut against her ambassadors and foreign ministers; who complain of nothing more frequently than the slenderness of their appointments, and the small and slow remittances that were made to them. This frugality (for I must not call it by a worse name) distressed the public service on many occasions[100]; and would have done it on more, if the zeal of her trusty servants had not been content to carry it on at the expence of their own fortunes. How many instances might be given of this, if ONE were not more than sufficient, and which all posterity will remember with indignation!

You speak of WALSINGHAM, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT. But were it not more candid to impute the poverty of that minister to his own generous contempt of riches, which he had doubtless many, fair occasions of procuring to himself, than to any designed neglect of him by his mistress?

The candour, returned Mr. ADDISON, must be very extraordinary, that can find an excuse for the queen in a circumstance that doubles her disgrace. But be it as you pretend. The uncommon moderation of the man shall be a cover to the queen’s parsimony. It was not, we will say, for this wise princess to provoke an appetite for wealth in her servants: it was enough that she gratified it, on proper occasions, where she found it already raised. And in this proceeding, no doubt, she was governed by a tender regard, for their honour, as well as her own interest. For how is her great secretary ennobled, by filling a place in the short list of those worthies, who, having lived and died in the service of their countries, have left not so much as a pittance behind them, to carry them to their graves! All this is very well. But when she had indulged this humour in one or two of her favourites, and suffered them, for example’s sake, to ascend to these heights of honour, it was going, methinks, a little too far, to expect the same delicacy of virtue in all her courtiers. Yet it was not her fault, if most of them did not reap this fame of illustrious poverty, as well as WALSINGHAM. She dealt by them, indeed, as if she had ranked poverty, as well as celibacy, among the cardinal virtues.

In the mean time, I would not deny that she had a princely fondness for shew and appearance. She took a pride in the brilliancy of her court. She delighted in the large trains of her nobility. She required to be royally entertained by them. And she thought her honour concerned in the figure they made in foreign courts, and in the wars. But, if she loved this pomp, she little cared to furnish the expence of it. She considered in good earnest (as some have observed, who would have the observation pass for a compliment[101]) _the purses of her subjects as her own_; and seemed to reckon on their being always open to her on any occasion of service, or even ceremony. She carried this matter so far, that the very expences of her wars were rather defrayed out of the private purses of her nobility, than the public treasury. As if she had taken it for a part of her _prerogative_ to impoverish her nobles at pleasure; or rather, as if she had a mind to have it thought that one of their _privileges_ was, to be allowed to ruin themselves from a zeal to her service.

But the queen’s avarice, proceeded he, did not only appear from her excessive parsimony in the management of the public treasure, but from her rapacity in getting what she could from particulars into her privy purse. Hence it was that all offices, and even personal favours, were in a manner set to sale. For it was a rule with her majesty, to grant no suit but for a reasonable consideration. So that whoever pretended to any place of profit or honour was sure to send a jewel, or other rich present beforehand, to prepare her mind for the entertainment of his petition. And to what other purpose was it that she kept her offices so long vacant, but to give more persons an opportunity of winning a preference in her favour; which for the most part inclined to those who had appeared, in this interval, to deserve it best? Nay, the slightest disgust, which she frequently took on very frivolous occasions, could not be got over but by the reconciling means of some valuable or well fancied present. And, what was most grievous, she sometimes accepted the present, without remitting the offence.

I remember a ridiculous instance of this sort. When the Lady LEICESTER wanted to obtain the pardon of her unfortunate son, the Lord ESSEX, she presented the queen with an exceeding rich gown, to the value of above an hundred pounds. She was well pleased with the gift, but thought no more of the pardon. We need not, after this, wonder at what is said of her majesty’s leaving a prodigious quantity of jewels and plate behind her, and even a _crowded wardrobe_. For so prevalent was this thrifty humour in the queen’s highness, that she could not persuade herself to part with so much, as a cast-gown to any of her servants[102].

You allow yourself to be very gay, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, on this foible of the great queen. But one thing you forget, that it never biased her judgment so far as to prevent a fit choice of her servants on all occasions[103]. And, as to her wary management of the public revenue, which you take a pleasure to exaggerate, this, methinks, is a venial fault in a prince, who could not, in her circumstances; have provided for the expences of government, but by the nicest and most attentive economy.

I understand, said Mr. ADDISON, the full force of that consideration; and believe it was that _attention_ principally, which occasioned the popularity of her reign, and the high esteem, in which the wisdom of her government is held to this day. The bulk of her subjects were, no doubt, highly pleased to find themselves spared on all occasions of expence. And it served at the same time, to gratify their natural envy of the great, to find, that _their_ fortunes were first and principally sacrificed to the public service. Nay, I am not sure that the very rapacity of her nature, in the sale of her offices, was any objection with the people at large, or even the lower gentry of the kingdom. For these, having no pretensions themselves to those offices, would be well enough pleased to see them not _bestowed_ on their betters, but dearly purchased by them. And then this traffic at court furnished the inferior gentry with a pretence for making the most of their magistracies. This practice at least must have been very notorious amongst them, when a facetious member of the lower house could define a justice of peace to be, “A living creature, that for half a dozen of chickens, will dispense with a whole dozen of penal statutes[104].” But, however this be, the queen’s ends, in every view, were abundantly answered. She enriched herself: she gained the affections of the people, and depressed and weakened the nobility. And by all these ways she effectually provided for, what she had ever most at heart, her own supreme and uncontrolled authority.

And is that to be wondered at in a great prince? returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT. Or, to take the matter in the light you place it, what if the queen had so much of her sex[105] and family in her disposition, as to like well enough to have her own way, is this such a crime as you would make of it? If she loved power, it was not to make a wanton or oppressive use of it. And if all princes knew as well to bound their own wills, as she did, we should not much complain of their impatience to be under the control of their subjects.

I am sorry, said Mr. ADDISON, that the acts of her reign will not allow me to come into this opinion of her moderation. On the other hand, her government appears to me, in many instances, OPPRESSIVE, and highly prejudicial to the ancient rights and privileges of her people. For what other construction can we make of her frequent interposition to restrain the counsels of their representatives in parliament: threatening some, imprisoning others, and silencing all with the thunder of her prerogative? Or, when she had suffered their counsels to ripen into bills, what shall we say of her high and mighty rejection of them, and that not in single and extraordinary cases, but in matters of ordinary course, and by dozens? I pass by other instances. But was her _moderation_ seen in dilapidating the revenues of the church; of that church, which she took under the wing of her supremacy, and would be thought to have sheltered from all its enemies[106]. The honest archbishop PARKER, I have heard, ventured to remonstrate against this abuse, the cognizance of which came so directly within his province. But to what effect, may be gathered, not only from the continuance of these depredations, but her severe reprehension of another of her bishops, whom she threatened with an oath to UNFROCK—that was her majesty’s own word—if he did not immediately give way to her princely extortions.

It may be hardly worth while to take notice of smaller matters. But who does not resent her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of her servants as presumed to deviate, on any pretence, from her good pleasure; nay, such as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it stood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, I know, may be said to excuse the proceedings against the queen of _Scots_. But the fate of DAVISON will reflect eternal dishonour on the policy, with which that measure was conducted.

I run over these things hastily, continued Mr. ADDISON, and in no great order: but you will see what to conclude from these hints; which taken together, I believe, may furnish a proper answer to the most considerable parts of your apology.

To sum it up in few words. Those two great events of her time, THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, and THE TRIUMPH OVER THE POWER OF SPAIN, cast an uncommon lustre on the reign of ELIZABETH. Posterity, dazzled with these obvious successes, went into an excessive admiration of her personal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more, is the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on the one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that, on the first glance, her government should appear able, and even glorious. Yet, in looking into particulars, we find that much is to be attributed to fortune, as well as skill; and that her glory is even lessened by considerations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it. The difficulties, she had to encounter, were great. Yet these very difficulties, of themselves, created the proper means to surmount them. They sharpened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the affections, of a whole people. The name of her great enemy on the continent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in reality, much less than it appeared. The _Spanish_ empire was corrupt and weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a secret even to the _Spaniard_ himself. In the mean time, the confidence, which the opinion of great strength inspires, was a favourable circumstance. It occasioned a remissness and neglect of counsel on one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost vigilance and circumspection on the other. But this was not all. The religious feuds in the Low Countries—the civil wars in _France_—the distractions of _Scotland_—all concurred to advance the fortunes of ELIZABETH. Yet all had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis of her fate, and, as it fell out, of her glory, if the conspiring elements themselves had not fought for her.