And is that to be wondered at in a great prince? returned Dr. Arbuthnot. Or, to take the matter in the light you place it, what if the queen had so much of her sex[105] and family in her disposition, as to like well enough to have her own way, is this such a crime as you would make of it? If she loved power, it was not to make a wanton or oppressive use of it. And if all princes knew as well to bound their own wills, as she did, we should not much complain of their impatience to be under the control of their subjects.
I am sorry, said Mr. Addison, that the acts of her reign will not allow me to come into this opinion of her moderation. On the other hand, her government appears to me, in many instances, OPPRESSIVE, and highly prejudicial to the ancient rights and privileges of her people. For what other construction can we make of her frequent interposition to restrain the counsels of their representatives in parliament: threatening some, imprisoning others, and silencing all with the thunder of her prerogative? Or, when she had suffered their counsels to ripen into bills, what shall we say of her high and mighty rejection of them, and that not in single and extraordinary cases, but in matters of ordinary course, and by dozens? I pass by other instances. But was her moderation seen in dilapidating the revenues of the church; of that church, which she took under the wing of her supremacy, and would be thought to have sheltered from all its enemies[106]. The honest archbishop Parker, I have heard, ventured to remonstrate against this abuse, the cognizance of which came so directly within his province. But to what effect, may be gathered, not only from the continuance of these depredations, but her severe reprehension of another of her bishops, whom she threatened with an oath to UNFROCK—that was her majesty’s own word—if he did not immediately give way to her princely extortions.
It may be hardly worth while to take notice of smaller matters. But who does not resent her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of her servants as presumed to deviate, on any pretence, from her good pleasure; nay, such as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it stood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, I know, may be said to excuse the proceedings against the queen of Scots. But the fate of Davison will reflect eternal dishonour on the policy, with which that measure was conducted.
I run over these things hastily, continued Mr. Addison, and in no great order: but you will see what to conclude from these hints; which taken together, I believe, may furnish a proper answer to the most considerable parts of your apology.
To sum it up in few words. Those two great events of her time, the establishment of the Reformation, and the triumph over the power of Spain, cast an uncommon lustre on the reign of Elizabeth. Posterity, dazzled with these obvious successes, went into an excessive admiration of her personal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more, is the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on the one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that, on the first glance, her government should appear able, and even glorious. Yet, in looking into particulars, we find that much is to be attributed to fortune, as well as skill; and that her glory is even lessened by considerations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it. The difficulties, she had to encounter, were great. Yet these very difficulties, of themselves, created the proper means to surmount them. They sharpened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the affections, of a whole people. The name of her great enemy on the continent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in reality, much less than it appeared. The Spanish empire was corrupt and weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a secret even to the Spaniard himself. In the mean time, the confidence, which the opinion of great strength inspires, was a favourable circumstance. It occasioned a remissness and neglect of counsel on one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost vigilance and circumspection on the other. But this was not all. The religious feuds in the Low Countries—the civil wars in France—the distractions of Scotland—all concurred to advance the fortunes of Elizabeth. Yet all had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis of her fate, and, as it fell out, of her glory, if the conspiring elements themselves had not fought for her.
Such is the natural account of her foreign triumphs. Her domestic successes admit as easy a solution. Those external dangers themselves, the genius of the time, the state of religious parties, nay, the very factions of her court, all of them directly, or by the slightest application of her policy, administered to her greatness. Such was the condition of the times, that it forced her to assume the resemblance, at least, of some popular virtues: and so singular her fortune, that her very vices became as respectable, perhaps more useful to her reputation, than her virtues. She was vigilant in her counsels; careful in the choice of her servants; courteous and condescending to her subjects. She appeared to have an extreme tenderness for the interests, and an extreme zeal for the honour, of the nation. This was the bright side of her character; and it shone the brighter from the constant and imminent dangers, to which she was exposed. On the other hand, she was choleric, and imperious; jealous, timid, and avaricious: oppressive, as far as she durst; in many cases capricious, in some tyrannical. Yet these vices, some of them sharpened and refined her policy, and the rest, operating chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents, strengthened her authority, and rooted her more firmly in the hearts of the people. The mingled splendour of these qualities, good and bad (for even her worst had the luck, when seen but on one side, or in well-disposed lights to look like good ones) so far dazzled the eyes of all, that they did not, or would not, see many outrageous acts of tyranny and oppression.
And thus it hath come to pass that, with some ability, more cunning, and little real virtue, the name of Elizabeth is, by the concurrence of many accidental causes, become the most revered of any in the long roll of our princes. How little she merited this honour, may appear from this slight sketch of her character and government. Yet, when all proper abatement is made in both, I will not deny her to have been a great, that is, a fortunate, queen; in this, perhaps, the most fortunate, that she has attained to so unrivalled a glory with so few pretensions to deserve it.
And so, replied Dr. Arbuthnot, you have concluded your invective in full form, and rounded it, as the ancient orators used to do, with all the advantage of a peroration. But, setting aside this trick of eloquence, which is apt indeed to confound a plain man, unused to such artifices, I see not but you have left the argument much as you took it up; and that I may still have leave to retain my former reverence for the good old times of queen Elizabeth. It is true, she had some foibles. You have spared, I believe, none of them. But, to make amends for these defects, let but the history of her reign speak for her, I mean in its own artless language, neither corrupted by flattery, nor tortured by invidious glosses; and we must ever conceive of her, I will not say as the most faultless, perhaps not the most virtuous, but surely the most able, and, from the splendour of some leading qualities, the most glorious of our English monarchs.
To give you my notion of her in few Words.—For the dispute, I find, must end, as most others usually do, in the simple representation of our own notions.—She was discreet, frugal, provident, and sagacious; intent on the pursuit of her great ends, the establishment of religion, and the security and honour of her people: prudent in the choice of the best means to effect them, the employment of able servants, and the management of the public revenue; dexterous at improving all advantages which her own wisdom or the circumstances of the times gave her: fearless and intrepid in the execution of great designs, yet careful to unite the deepest foresight with her magnanimity. If she seemed AVARICIOUS, let it be considered that the nicest frugality was but necessary in her situation: if IMPERIOUS, that a female government needed to be made respectable by a shew of authority: and if at any time OPPRESSIVE, that the English constitution, as it then stood, as well as her own nature, had a good deal of that bias.
In a word, let it be remembered, that she had the honour of ruling[107], perhaps of forming, the wisest, the bravest, the most, virtuous people, that have adorned any age or country; and that she advanced the glory of the English name and that of her own dignity to a height, which has no parallel in the annals of our nation.