part i. pp. 243 seq., with _Meyer_, _Instit. Judic._ vol. ii. pp.

152-173. There are few things in our history so irrational as the admiration expressed by a certain class of writers for the institutions of our barbarous Anglo-Saxon ancestors.

The English aristocracy being thus forced, by their own weakness, to rely on the people,[299] it naturally followed, that the people imbibed that tone of independence, and that lofty bearing, of which our civil and political institutions are the consequence, rather than the cause. It is to this, and not to any fanciful peculiarity of race, that we owe the sturdy and enterprising spirit for which the inhabitants of this island have long been remarkable. It is this which has enabled us to baffle all the arts of oppression, and to maintain for centuries liberties which no other nation has ever possessed. And it is this which has fostered and upheld those great municipal privileges, which, whatever be their faults, have, at least, the invaluable merit of accustoming free men to the exercise of power, giving to citizens the management of their own city, and perpetuating the idea of independence, by preserving it in a living type, and by enlisting in its support the interests and affections of individual men.

[299] Montlosier, with the fine spirit of a French noble, taunts the English aristocracy with this: 'En France la noblesse, attaquée sans cesse, s'est défendue sans cesse. Elle a subi l'oppression; elle ne l'a point acceptée. En Angleterre, elle a couru dès la première commotion, se réfugier dans les rangs des bourgeois, et sous leur protection. Elle a abdiqué ainsi son existence.' _Montlosier_, _Monarchie Française_, vol. iii. p. 162. Compare an instructive passage in _De Staël_, _Consid. sur la Révolution_, vol. i. p. 421.

But the habits of self-government which, under these circumstances, were cultivated in England, were, under opposite circumstances, neglected in France. The great French lords being too powerful to need the people, were unwilling to seek their alliance.[300] The result was, that, amid a great variety of forms and names, society was, in reality, only divided into two classes--the upper and the lower, the protectors and the protected. And, looking at the ferocity of the prevailing manners, it is not too much to say, that in France, under the feudal system, every man was either a tyrant or a slave. Indeed, in most instances, the two characters were combined in the same person. For, the practice of subinfeudation, which in our country was actively checked, became in France almost universal.[301] By this, the great lords having granted lands on condition of fealty and other services to certain persons, these last subgranted them; that is, made them over on similar conditions to other persons, who had likewise the power of bestowing them on a fourth party, and so on in an endless series;[302] thus forming a long chain of dependence, and, as it were, organizing submission into a system.[303] In England, on the other hand, such arrangements were so unsuited to the general state of affairs, that it is doubtful if they were ever carried on to any extent; and, at all events, it is certain that, in the reign of Edward I., they were finally stopped by the statute known to lawyers as _Quia emptores_.[304]

[300] See some good remarks in _Mably_, _Observations sur l'Hist. de France_, vol. iii. pp. 114, 115.

[301] _Hallam's Middle Ages_, vol. i. p. 111.

[302] 'Originally there was no limit to subinfeudation.' _Brougham's Polit. Philos._ vol. i. p. 279.

[303] A living French historian boasts that, in his own country, 'toute la société féodale formait ainsi une échelle de clientelle et de patronage.' _Cassagnac_, _Révolution Française_, vol. i. p. 459.

[304] This is 18 Edw. I. c. 1; respecting which, see _Blackstone's Comment._ vol. ii. p. 91, vol. iv. p. 425; _Reeve's Hist. of English Law_, vol. ii. p. 223; _Dalrymple's Hist. of Feudal Property_, pp. 102, 243, 340.

Thus early was there a great social divergence between France and England. The consequences of this were still more obvious when, in the fourteenth century, the feudal system rapidly decayed in both countries. For in England, the principle of protection being feeble, men were in some degree accustomed to self-government; and they were able to hold fast by those great institutions which would have been ill adapted to the more obedient habits of the French people. Our municipal privileges, the rights of our yeomanry, and the security of our copyholders, were, from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries, the three most important guarantees for the liberties of England.[305] In France such guarantees were impossible. The real division being between those who were noble, and those who were not noble, no room was left for the establishment of intervening classes; but all were compelled to fall into one of these two great ranks.[306] The French have never had any thing answering to our yeomanry; nor were copyholders recognized by their laws. And, although they attempted to introduce into their country municipal institutions, all such efforts were futile; for, while they copied the forms of liberty, they lacked that bold and sturdy spirit by which alone liberty can be secured. They had, indeed, its image and superscription; but they wanted the sacred fire that warms the image into life. Every thing else they possessed. The show and appliances of freedom were there. Charters were granted to their towns, and privileges conceded to their magistrates. All, however, was useless. For it is not by the wax and parchment of lawyers that the independence of men can be preserved. Such things are the mere externals; they set off liberty to advantage; they are as its dress and paraphernalia, its holiday-suit in times of peace and quiet. But, when the evil days set in, when the invasions of despotism have begun, liberty will be retained, not by those who can show the oldest deeds and the largest charters, but by those who have been most inured to habits of independence, most accustomed to think and act for themselves, and most regardless of that insidious protection which the upper classes have always been so ready to bestow, that, in many countries, they have now left nothing worth the trouble to protect.

[305] The history of the decay of that once most important class, the English yeomanry, is an interesting subject, and one for which I have collected considerable materials; at present, I will only say, that its decline was first distinctly perceptible in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and was consummated by the rapidly-increasing power of the commercial and manufacturing classes early in the eighteenth century. After losing their influence, their numbers naturally diminished, and they made way for other bodies of men, whose habits of mind were less prejudiced, and therefore better suited to that new state which society assumed in the last age. I mention this, because some writers regret the almost total destruction of the yeoman freeholders; overlooking the fact, that they are disappearing, not in consequence of any violent revolution or stretch of arbitrary power, but simply by the general march of affairs; society doing away with what it no longer requires. Compare _Kay's Social Condition of the People_, vol. i. pp. 43, 602, with a letter from Wordsworth in _Bunbury's Correspond. of Hanmer_, p. 440; a note in _Mill's Polit. Econ._ vol. i. pp. 311, 312; another in _Nichols's Lit. Anec._ vol. v. p. 323; and _Sinclair's Correspond._ vol. i. p. 229.

[306] This is stated as an admitted fact by French writers living in different periods and holding different opinions; but all agreed as to there being only two divisions: 'comme en France on est toujours ou noble, ou roturier, et qu'il n'y a pas de milieu.' _Mém. de Rivarol_, p. 7. 'La grande distinction des nobles et des roturiers.' _Giraud_, _Précis de l'Ancien Droit_, p. 10. Indeed, according to the Coutumes, the nobles and roturiers attained their majority at different ages. _Klimrath_, _Hist. du Droit_, vol. ii. p. 249 (erroneously stated in _Story's Conflict of Laws_, pp. 56, 79, 114). See further respecting this capital distinction, _Mém. de Duplessis Mornay_, vol. ii. p. 230 ('agréable à la noblesse et au peuple'); _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. viii. pp. 222, 232, 237; _Bunbury's Correspond. of Hanmer_, p. 256; _Mably_, _Observations_, vol. iii. p. 263; and _Mercier sur Rousseau_, vol. i. p. 38: 'On étoit roturier, vilain, homme de néant, canaille, dès qu'on ne s'appelloit plus marquis, baron, comte, chevalier, etc.'

And so it was in France. The towns, with few exceptions, fell at the first shock; and the citizens lost those municipal privileges which, not being grafted on the national character, it was found impossible to preserve. In the same way, in our country, power naturally, and by the mere force of the democratic movement, fell into the hands of the House of Commons; whose authority has ever since, notwithstanding occasional checks, continued to increase at the expense of the more aristocratic parts of the legislature. The only institution answering to this in France was the States-General; which, however, had so little influence, that, in the opinion of native historians, it was hardly to be called an institution at all.[307] Indeed, the French were, by this time, so accustomed to the idea of protection, and to the subordination which that idea involves, that they were little inclined to uphold an establishment which, in their constitution, was the sole representative of the popular element. The result was, that, by the fourteenth century, the liberties of Englishmen were secured;[308] and, since then, their only concern has been to increase what they have already obtained. But in that same century, in France, the protective spirit assumed a new form; the power of the aristocracy was, in a great measure, succeeded by the power of the crown; and there began that tendency to centralization which, having been pushed still further, first under Louis XIV., and afterwards under Napoleon, has become the bane of the French people.[309] For by it the feudal ideas of superiority and submission have long survived that barbarous age to which alone they were suited. Indeed, by their transmigration, they seemed to have gained fresh strength. In France, every thing is referred to one common centre, in which all civil functions are absorbed. All improvements of any importance, all schemes for bettering even the material condition of the people must receive the sanction of government; the local authorities not being considered equal to such arduous tasks. In order that inferior magistrates may not abuse their power, no power is conferred upon them. The exercise of independent jurisdiction is almost unknown. Every thing that is done must be done at head quarters.[310] The government is believed to see every thing, know every thing, and provide for every thing. To enforce this monstrous monopoly there has been contrived a machinery well worthy of the design. The entire country is covered by an immense array of officials;[311] who, in the regularity of their hierarchy, and in the order of their descending series, form an admirable emblem of that feudal principle, which ceasing to be territorial, has now become personal. In fact, the whole business of the state is conducted on the supposition that no man either knows his own interest, or is fit to take care of himself. So paternal are the feelings of government, so eager for the welfare of its subjects, that it has drawn within its jurisdiction the most rare, as well as the most ordinary, actions of life. In order that the French may not make imprudent wills, it has limited the right of bequest; and, for fear that they should bequeath their property wrongly, it prevents them from bequeathing the greater part of it at all. In order that society may be protected by its police, it has directed that no one shall travel without a passport. And when men are actually travelling, they are met at every turn by the same interfering spirit, which, under pretence of protecting their persons, shackles their liberty. Into another matter, far more serious, the French have carried the same principle. Such is their anxiety to protect society against criminals, that, when an offender is placed at the bar of one of their courts, there is exhibited a spectacle which is no idle boast to say we, in England, could not tolerate for a single hour. There is seen a great public magistrate, by whom the prisoner is about to be tried, examining him in order to ascertain his supposed guilt, re-examining him, cross-examining him, performing the duties, not of a judge, but of a prosecutor, and bringing to bear against the unhappy man all the authority of his judicial position, all his professional subtlety, all his experience, all the dexterity of his practised understanding. This is, perhaps, the most alarming of the many instances in which the tendencies of the French intellect are shown; because it supplies a machinery ready for the purposes of absolute power; because it brings the administration of justice into disrepute, by associating with it an idea of unfairness; and because it injures that calm and equable temper, which it is impossible fully to maintain under a system that makes a magistrate an advocate, and turns the judge into a partizan. But this, mischievous as it is, only forms part of a far larger scheme. For, to the method by which criminals are discovered, there is added an analogous method, by which crime is prevented. With this view, the people, even in their ordinary amusements, are watched and carefully superintended. Lest they should harm each other by some sudden indiscretion, precautions are taken similar to those with which a father might surround his children. In their fairs, at their theatres, their concerts, and their other places of public resort, there are always present soldiers, who are sent to see that no mischief is done, that there is no unnecessary crowding, that no one uses harsh language, that no one quarrels with his neighbour. Nor does the vigilance of the government stop there. Even the education of children is brought under the control of the state, instead of being regulated by the judgment of masters or parents.[312] And the whole plan is executed with such energy, that, as the French while men are never let alone, just so while children they are never left alone.[313] At the same time, it being reasonably supposed that the adults thus kept in pupilage cannot be proper judges of their own food, the government has provided for this also. Its prying eye follows the butcher to the shambles, and the baker to the oven. By its paternal hand, meat is examined lest it should be bad, and bread is weighed lest it should be light. In short, without multiplying instances, with which most readers must be familiar, it is enough to say that in France, as in every country where the protective principle is active, the government has established a monopoly of the worst kind; a monopoly which comes home to the business and bosoms of men, follows them in their daily avocations, troubles them with its petty, meddling spirit, and, what is worse than all, diminishes their responsibility to themselves; thus depriving them of what is the only real education that most minds receive,--the constant necessity of providing for future contingencies, and the habit of grappling with the difficulties of life.

[307] 'Les états-généraux sont portés dans la liste de nos institutions. Je ne sais cependant s'il est permis de donner ce nom à des rassemblemens aussi irréguliers.' _Montlosier_, _Monarchie Française_, vol. i. p. 266. 'En France, les états-généraux, au moment même de leur plus grand éclat, c'est à dire dans le cours du xiv^e siècle, n'ont guère été que des accidents, un pouvoir national et souvent invoqué, mais non un établissement constitutionnel.' _Guizot_, _Essais_, p. 253. See also _Mably_, _Observations_, vol. iii. p. 147; and _Sismondi_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. xiv. p. 642.

[308] This is frankly admitted by one of the most candid and enlightened of all the foreign writers on our history, _Guizot_, _Essais_, p. 297: 'En 1307, les droits qui devaient enfanter en Angleterre un gouvernement libre étaient définitivement reconnus.'

[309] See an account of the policy of Philip the Fair, in _Mably_, _Observations_, vol. ii. pp. 25-44; in _Boulainvilliers_, _Ancien Gouvernement_, vol. i. pp. 292, 314, vol. ii. pp. 37, 38; and in _Guizot_, _Civilisation en France_, vol. iv. pp. 170-192. M. Guizot says, perhaps too strongly, that his reign was 'la métamorphose de la royauté en despotisme,' On the connexion of this with the centralizing movement, see _Tocqueville's Démocratie_, vol. i. p. 307: 'Le goût de la centralisation et la manie réglementaire remontent, en France, à l'époque où les légistes sont entrés dans le gouvernement; ce qui nous reporte au temps de Philippe le Bel.' Tennemann also notices, that in his reign the 'Rechtstheorie' began to exercise influence; but this learned writer takes a purely metaphysical view, and has therefore misunderstood the more general social tendency. _Gesch. der Philos._ vol. viii. p. 823.

[310] As several writers on law notice this system with a lenient eye _Origines du Droit Français_, in _[OE]uvres de Michelet_, vol. ii. p. 321; and _Eschbach_, _Etude du Droit_, p. 129: 'le système énergique de la centralisation', it may be well to state how it actually works.

Mr. Bulwer, writing twenty years ago, says: 'Not only cannot a commune determine its own expenses without the consent of the minister or one of his deputed functionaries, it cannot even erect a building, the cost of which shall have been sanctioned, without the plan being adopted by a board of public works attached to the central authority, and having the supervision and direction of every public building throughout the Kingdom.' _Bulwer's Monarchy of the Middle Classes_, 1836, vol. ii. p. 262.

M. Tocqueville, writing in the present year (1856), says, 'Sous l'ancien régime, _comme de nos jours_, il n'y avait ville, bourg, village, ni si petit hameau en France, hôpital, fabrique, couvent ni collège, qui pût avoir une volonté indépendante dans ses affaires particulières, ni administrer à sa volonté ses propres biens. Alors, _comme aujourd'hui_, l'administration tenait donc tous les Français en tutelle, et si l'insolence du mot ne s'était pas encore produite, on avait du moins déjà la chose.' _Tocqueville_, _l'Ancien Régime_, 1856, pp. 79, 80.

[311] The number of civil functionaries in France, who are paid by the government to trouble the people, passes all belief, being estimated, at different periods during the present century, at from 138,000 to upwards of 800,000. _Tocqueville_, _de la Démocratie_, vol. i. p. 220; _Alison's Europe_, vol. xiv. pp. 127, 140; _Kay's Condition of the People_, vol. i. p. 272; _Laing's Notes_, 2d series, p. 185. Mr. Laing, writing in 1850, says: 'In France, at the expulsion of Louis Philippe, the civil functionaries were stated to amount to 807,030 individuals.'

[312] 'The government in France possesses control over all the education of the country, with the exception of the colleges for the education of the clergy, which are termed seminaries, and their subordinate institutions.' _Report on the State of Superior Education in France in_ 1843, in _Journal of Statist. Soc._ vol. vi. p. 304. On the steps taken during the power of Napoleon, see _Alison's Europe_, vol. viii. p. 203: 'Nearly the whole education of the empire was brought effectually under the direction and appointment of government.'

[313] Much attention is paid to the _surveillance_ of pupils; it being a fundamental principle of French education, that children should never be left alone. _Report on General Education in France in_ 1842, in _Journal of Statist. Soc._ vol. v. p. 20.

The consequence of all this has been, that the French, though a great and splendid people,--a people full of mettle, high-spirited, abounding in knowledge, and perhaps less oppressed by superstition than any other in Europe,--have always been found unfit to exercise political power. Even when they have possessed it, they have never been able to combine permanence with liberty. One of these two elements has always been wanting. They have had free governments, which have not been stable. They have had stable governments, which have not been free. Owing to their fearless temper, they have rebelled, and no doubt will continue to rebel, against so evil a condition.[314] But it does not need the tongue of a prophet to tell that, for at least some generations, all such efforts must be unsuccessful. For men can never be free, unless they are educated to freedom. And this is not the education which is to be found in schools, or gained from books; but it is that which consists in self-discipline, in self-reliance, and in self-government. These, in England, are matters of hereditary descent--traditional habits, which we imbibe in our youth, and which regulate us in the conduct of life. The old associations of the French all point in another direction. At the slightest difficulty, they call on the government for support. What with us is competition, with them is monopoly. That which we effect by private companies, they effect by public boards. They cannot cut a canal, or lay down a railroad, without appealing to the government for aid. With them, the people look to the rulers; with us, the rulers look to the people. With them, the executive is the centre from which society radiates;[315] with us, society is the instigator, and the executive the organ. The difference in the result has corresponded with the difference in the process. We have been made fit for political power, by the long exercise of civil rights; they, neglecting the exercise, think they can at once begin with the power. We have always shown a determination to uphold our liberties, and, when the times are fitting, to increase them; and this we have done with a decency and a gravity natural to men to whom such subjects have long been familiar. But the French, always treated as children, are, in political matters, children still. And as they have handled the most weighty concerns in that gay and volatile spirit which adorns their lighter literature, it is no wonder that they have failed in matters where the first condition of success is, that men should have been long accustomed to rely upon their own energies, and that before they try their skill in a political struggle, their resources should have been sharpened by that preliminary discipline, which a contest with the difficulties of civil life can never fail to impart.

[314] A distinguished French author says: 'La France souffre du mal du siècle; elle en est plus malade qu'aucun autre pays; ce mal c'est la haine de l'autorité.' _Custine_, _Russie_, vol. ii. p. 136. Compare, _Rey_, _Science Sociale_, vol. ii. p. 86 note.

[315] It is to the activity of this protective and centralizing spirit that we must ascribe, what a very great authority noticed thirty years ago, as 'le défaut de spontanéité, qui caractérise les institutions de la France moderne.' _Meyer_, _Instit. Judic._ vol. iv. p. 536. It is also this which, in literature and in science, makes them favour the establishment of academies; and it is probably to the same principle that their jurists owe their love of codification. All these are manifestations of an unwillingness to rely on the general march of affairs, and show an undue contempt for the unaided conclusions of private men.

These are among the considerations by which we must be guided, in estimating the probable destinies of the great countries of Europe. But what we are now rather concerned with is, to notice how the opposite tendencies of France and England long continued to be displayed in the condition and treatment of their aristocracy; and how from this there naturally followed some striking differences between the war conducted by the Fronde, and that waged by the Long Parliament.

When, in the fourteenth century, the authority of the French kings began rapidly to increase, the political influence of the nobility was, of course, correspondingly diminished. What, however, proves the extent to which their power had taken root, is the undoubted fact, that, notwithstanding this to them unfavourable circumstance, the people were never able to emancipate themselves from their control.[316] The relation the nobles bore to the throne became entirely changed; that which they bore to the people remained almost the same. In England, slavery, or villenage, as it is mildly termed, quickly diminished, and was extinct by the end of the sixteenth century.[317] In France, it lingered on two hundred years later, and was only destroyed in that great Revolution by which the possessors of ill-gotten power were called to so sharp an account.[318] Thus, too, until the last seventy years, the nobles were in France exempt from those onerous taxes which oppressed the people. The taille and corvée were heavy and grievous exactions, but they fell solely on men of ignoble birth;[319] for the French aristocracy, being a high and chivalrous race, would have deemed it an insult to their illustrious descent, if they had been taxed to the same amount as those whom they despised as their inferiors.[320] Indeed, every thing tended to nurture this general contempt. Every thing was contrived to humble one class, and exalt the other. For the nobles there were reserved the best appointments in the church, and also the most important military posts.[321] The privilege of entering the army as officers was confined to them;[322] and they alone possessed a prescriptive right to belong to the cavalry.[323] At the same time, and to avoid the least chance of confusion, an equal vigilance was displayed in the most trifling matters, and care was taken to prevent any similarity, even in the amusements of the two classes. To such a pitch was this brought, that, in many parts of France, the right of having an aviary or a dovecote depended entirely on a man's rank; and no Frenchman, whatever his wealth might be, could keep pigeons, unless he were a noble; it being considered that these recreations were too elevated for persons of plebeian origin.[324]

[316] Mably (_Observations_, vol. iii. pp. 154, 155, 352-362) has collected some striking evidence of the tyranny of the French nobles in the sixteenth century; and as to the wanton cruelty with which they exercised their power in the seventeenth century, see _Des Réaux_, _Historiettes_, vol. vii. p. 155, vol. viii. p. 79, vol. ix. pp. 40, 61, 62, vol. x. pp. 255-257. In the eighteenth century, matters were somewhat better; but still the subordination was excessive, and the people were poor, ill-treated, and miserable. Compare _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. iv. p. 139; _Letter from the Earl of Cork_, dated Lyons, 1754, in _Burton's Diary_, vol. iv. p. 80; the statement of Fox, in _Parl. Hist._ vol. xxxi. p. 406; _Jefferson's Correspond._ vol. ii. p. 45; and _Smith's Tour on the Continent_, edit. 1793, vol. iii. pp. 201, 202.

[317] Mr. Eccleston (_English Antiq._ p. 138) says, that in 1450 'villenage had almost passed away;' and according to Mr. Thornton (_Over-Population_, p. 182), 'Sir Thomas Smith, who wrote about the year 1550, declares that he had never met with any personal or domestic slaves; and that the villains, or predial slaves, still to be found, were so few, as to be scarcely worth mentioning.' Mr. Hallam can find no 'unequivocal testimony to the existence of villenage' later than 1574. _Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 312; see, to the same effect, _Barrington on the Statutes_, pp. 308, 309. If, however, my memory does not deceive me, I have met with evidence of it in the reign of James I., but I cannot recall the passage.

[318] M. Cassagnac (_Causes de la Révolution_, vol. iii. p. 11) says: 'Chose surprenante, il y avait encore, au 4 août 1789, _un million cinq cent mille serfs de corps_;' and M. Giraud (_Précis de l'Ancien Droit_, Paris, 1852, p. 3), 'jusqu'à la révolution une division fondamentale partageait les personnes en personnes libres et personnes sujettes à condition servile.' A few years before the Revolution, this shameful distinction was abolished by Louis XVI. in his own domains. Compare _Eschbach_, _Etude du Droit_, pp. 271, 272, with _Du Mesnil_, _Mém. sur le Prince le Brun_, p. 94. I notice this particularly, because M. Monteil, a learned and generally accurate writer, supposes that the abolition took place earlier than it really did. _Hist. des divers Etats_, vol. vi. p. 101.

[319] _Cassagnac_, _de la Révolution_, vol. i. pp. 122, 173; _Giraud_, _Ancien Droit_, p. 11; _Soulavie_, _Mém. de Louis XVI_, vol. vi. p. 156; _Mém. au Roi sur les Municipalités_, in _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. vii. p. 423; _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. i. p. 200.

Further information respecting the amount and nature of these vexatious impositions will be found in _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._ vol. xiii. p. 24, vol. xiv. p. 118; _Sainte-Aulaire_, _Hist. de la Fronde_, vol. i. p. 125; _Tocqueville_, _Ancien Régime_, pp. 135, 191, 420, 440; _Sully_, _[OE]conomies Royales_, vol. ii. p. 412, vol. iii. p. 226, vol. iv. p. 199, vol. v. pp. 339, 410, vol. vi. p. 94; _Relat. des Ambassad. Vénit._ vol. i. p. 96; _Mably_, _Observations_, vol. iii. pp. 355, 356; _Boulainvilliers_, _Ancien Gouvernement_, vol. iii. p. 109; _Le Vassor_, _Hist. de Louis XIII_, vol. ii. p. 29; _Mém. d'Omer Talon_, vol. ii. pp. 103, 369; _Mém. de Montglat_, vol. i. p. 82; _Tocqueville_, _Règne de Louis XV_, vol. i. pp. 87, 332; _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. i. p. 372, vol. iv. pp. 58, 59, 74, 75, 242, 278, vol. v. pp. 226, 242, vol. vi. p. 144, vol. viii. pp. 152, 280.

[320] So deeply rooted were these feelings, that, even in 1789, the very year the Revolution broke out, it was deemed a great concession that the nobles 'will consent, indeed, to equal taxation.' See a letter from Jefferson to Jay, dated Paris, May 9th, 1789, in _Jefferson's Corresp._ vol. ii. pp. 462, 463. Compare _Mercier sur Rousseau_, vol. i. p. 136.

[321] 'Les nobles, qui avaient le privilége exclusif des grandes dignités et des gros bénéfices.' _Mém. de Rivarol_, p. 97: see also _Mém. de Bouillé_, vol. i. p. 56; _Lemontey_, _Etablissement Monarchique_, p. 337; _Daniel_, _Hist. de la Milice Françoise_, vol. ii. p. 556; _Campan_, _Mém. sur Marie-Antoinette_, vol. i. pp. 238, 239.

[322] 'L'ancien régime n'avait admis que des nobles pour officiers.' _Mém. de Roland_, vol. i. p. 398. Ségur mentions that, early in the reign of Louis XVI., 'les nobles seuls avaient le droit d'entrer au service comme sous-lieutenans.' _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 65. Compare pp. 117, 265-271, with _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. iii. p. 74, and _De Staël_, _Consid. sur la Rév._ vol. i. p. 123.

[323] Thus, De Thou says of Henry III., 'il remet sous l'ancien pied la cavalerie ordinaire, qui n'étoit composée que de la noblesse.' _Hist. Univ._ vol. ix. pp. 202, 203; and see vol. x. pp. 504, 505, vol. xiii. p. 22; and an imperfect statement of the same fact in _Boullier_, _Hist. des divers Corps de la Maison Militaire des Rois de France_, Paris, 1818, p. 58, a superficial work on an uninteresting subject.

[324] M. Tocqueville (_L'Ancien Régime_, p. 448) mentions, among other regulations still in force late in the eighteenth century, that 'en Dauphiné, en Bretagne, en Normandie, il est prohibé à tout roturier d'avoir des colombiers, fuies et volière; il n'y a que les nobles qui puissent avoir des pigeons.'

Circumstances like these are valuable, as evidence of the state of society to which they belong; and their importance will become peculiarly obvious, when we compare them with the opposite condition of England.

For in England, neither these nor any similar distinctions have ever been known. The spirit of which our yeomanry, copyholders, and free burgesses were the representatives, proved far too strong for those protective and monopolizing principles of which the aristocracy are the guardians in politics, and the clergy in religion. And it is to the successful opposition made by these feelings of individual independence that we owe our two greatest national acts--our Reformation in the sixteenth, and our Rebellion in the seventeenth century. Before, however, tracing the steps taken in these matters, there is one other point of view to which I wish to call attention, as a further illustration of the early and radical difference between France and England.

In the eleventh century there arose the celebrated institution of chivalry,[325] which was to manners what feudalism was to politics. This connexion is clear, not only from the testimony of contemporaries, but also from two general considerations. In the first place, chivalry was so highly aristocratic, that no one could even receive knighthood unless he were of noble birth;[326] and the preliminary education which was held to be necessary was carried on either in schools appointed by the nobles, or else in their own baronial castles.[327] In the second place, it was essentially a protective, and not at all a reforming institution. It was contrived with a view to remedy certain oppressions as they successively arose; opposed in this respect to the reforming spirit, which, being remedial rather than palliative, strikes at the root of an evil by humbling the class from which the evil proceeds, passing over individual cases in order to direct its attention to general causes. But chivalry, so far from doing this, was in fact a fusion of the aristocratic and the ecclesiastical forms of the protective spirit.[328] For, by introducing among the nobles the principle of knighthood, which, being personal, could never be bequeathed, it presented a point at which the ecclesiastical doctrine of celibacy could coalesce with the aristocratic doctrine of hereditary descent.[329] Out of this coalition sprung results of great moment. It is to this that Europe owes those orders, half aristocratic half religious,[330] the Knights Templars, the Knights of St. James, the Knights of St. John, the Knights of St. Michael: establishments which inflicted the greatest evils on society; and whose members, combining analogous vices, enlivened the superstition of monks with the debauchery of soldiers. As a natural consequence, an immense number of noble knights were solemnly pledged to 'defend the church;' an ominous expression, the meaning of which is too well known to the readers of ecclesiastical history.[331] Thus it was that chivalry, uniting the hostile principles of celibacy and noble birth, became the incarnation of the spirit of the two classes to which those principles belonged. Whatever benefit, therefore, this institution may have conferred upon manners,[332] there can be no doubt that it actively contributed to keep men in a state of pupilage, and stopped the march of society by prolonging the term of its infancy.[333]

[325] 'Dès la fin du onzième siècle, à l'époque même où commencèrent les croisades, on trouve la chevalerie établie.' _Koch_, _Tab. des Révolutions_, vol. i. p. 143; see also _Sainte-Palaye_, _Mém. sur la Chevalerie_, vol. i. pp. 42, 68. M. Guizot (_Civilis. en France_, vol. iii. pp. 349-354) has attempted to trace it back to an earlier period; but he appears to have failed, though of course its germs may be easily found. According to some writers it originated in northern Europe; according to others in Arabia! _Mallet's Northern Antiquities_, p. 202; _Journal of Asiat. Soc._ vol. ii. p. 11.

[326] 'L'ordre de chevalerie n'étoit accordé qu'aux hommes d'un sang noble.' _Sismondi_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. iv. p. 204. Compare _Daniel_, _Hist. de la Milice_, vol. i. p. 97, and _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. p. 20.

[327] 'In some places there were schools appointed by the nobles of the country, but most frequently their own castles served.' _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. p. 31; and see _Sainte-Palaye_, _Mém. sur l'Anc. Chevalerie_, vol. i. pp. 30, 56, 57, on this education.

[328] This combination of knighthood and religious rites is often ascribed to the crusades; but there is good evidence that it took place a little earlier, and must be referred to the latter half of the eleventh century. Compare _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. pp. 10, 11; _Daniel_, _Hist. de la Milice_, vol. i. pp. 101, 102, 108; _Boulainvilliers_, _Ancien Gouv._ vol. i. p. 326. Sainte-Palaye (_Mém. sur la Chevalerie_, vol. i. pp. 119-123), who has collected some illustrations of the relation between chivalry and the church, says, p. 119, 'enfin la chevalerie étoit regardée comme une ordination, un sacerdoce.' The superior clergy possessed the right of conferring knighthood, and William Rufus was actually knighted by Archbishop Lanfranc: 'Archiepiscopus Lanfrancus, eo quòd eum nutrierat, et militem fecerat.' _Will. Malmes._ lib. iv., in _Scriptores post Bedam_, p. 67. Compare _Fosbroke's British Monachism_, 1843, p. 101, on knighting by abbots.

[329] The influence of this on the nobles is rather exaggerated by Mr. Mills; who, on the other hand, has not noticed how the unhereditary element was favourable to the ecclesiastical spirit. _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. pp. 15, 389, vol. ii. p. 169; a work interesting as an assemblage of facts, but almost useless as a philosophic estimate.

[330] 'In their origin all the military orders, and most of the religious ones, were entirely aristocratic.' _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. p. 336.

[331] _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. i. pp. 148, 338. About the year 1127, St. Bernard wrote a discourse in favour of the Knights Templars, in which 'he extols this order as a combination of monasticism and knighthood.... He describes the design of it as being to give the military order and knighthood a serious Christian direction, and to convert war into something that God might approve.' _Neander's Hist. of the Church_, vol. vii. p. 358. To this may be added, that, early in the thirteenth century, a chivalric association was formed, and afterwards merged in the Dominican order, called the Militia of Christ: 'un nouvel ordre de chevalerie destiné à poursuivre les hérétiques, sur le modèle de celui des Templiers, et sous le nom de Milice de Christ.' _Llorente_, _Hist. de l'Inquisition_, vol. i. pp. 52, 133, 203.

[332] Several writers ascribe to chivalry the merit of softening manners, and of increasing the influence of women. _Sainte-Palaye_, _Mém. sur la Chevalerie_, vol. i. pp. 220-223, 282, 284, vol. iii. pp. vi. vii. 159-161; _Helvétius de l'Esprit_, vol. ii. pp. 50, 51; _Schlegel's Lectures_, vol. i. p. 209. That there was such a tendency is, I think, indisputable; but it has been greatly exaggerated; and an author of considerable reading on these subjects says, 'The rigid treatment shown to prisoners of war in ancient times strongly marks the ferocity and uncultivated manners of our ancestors, and that even to ladies of high rank; notwithstanding the homage said to have been paid to the fair sex in those days of chivalry.' _Grose's Military Antiquities_, vol. ii. p. 114. Compare _Manning on the Law of Nations_, 1839, pp. 145, 146.

[333] Mr. Hallam (_Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 464) says, 'A third reproach may be made to the character of knighthood, that it widened the separation between the different classes of society, and confirmed that aristocratical spirit of high birth, by which the large mass of mankind were kept in unjust degradation.'

On this account, it is evident that, whether we look at the immediate or at the remote tendency of chivalry, its strength and duration become a measure of the predominance of the protective spirit. If, with this view, we compare France and England, we shall find fresh proof of the early divergence of those countries. Tournaments, the first open expression of chivalry, are of French origin.[334] The greatest and, indeed, the only two great describers of chivalry are Joinville and Froissart, both of whom were Frenchmen. Bayard, that famous chevalier, who is always considered as the last representative of chivalry, was a Frenchman, and was killed when fighting for Francis I. Nor was it until nearly forty years after his death that tournaments were finally abolished in France, the last one having been held in 1560.[335]

[334] _Sismondi_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. iv. pp. 370, 371, 377; _Turner's Hist. of England_, vol. iv. p. 478; _Foncemagne_, _De l'Origine des Armoiries_, in _Mém. de l'Académie des Inscriptions_, vol. xx. p. 580. Koch also says (_Tableau des Révolutions_, vol. i. p. 139), 'c'est de la France que l'usage des tournois se répandit chez les autres nations de l'Europe.' They were first introduced into England in the reign of Stephen. _Lingard's England_, vol. ii. p. 27.

[335] Mr. Hallam (_Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 470) says they were 'entirely discontinued in France' in consequence of the death of Henry II.; but according to _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. ii. p. 226, they lasted the next year; when another fatal accident occurred, and 'tournaments ceased for ever.' Compare _Sainte-Palaye sur la Chevalerie_, vol. ii. pp. 39, 40.

But in England, the protective spirit being much less active than in France, we should expect to find that chivalry, as its offspring, had less influence. And such was really the case. The honours that were paid to knights, and the social distinctions by which they were separated from the other classes, were never so great in our country as in France.[336] As men became more free, the little respect they had for such matters still further diminished. In the thirteenth century, and indeed in the very reign in which burgesses were first returned to parliament, the leading symbol of chivalry fell into such disrepute, that a law was passed obliging certain persons to accept that rank of knighthood which in other nations was one of the highest objects of ambition.[337] In the fourteenth century, this was followed by another blow, which deprived knighthood of its exclusively military character; the custom having grown up in the reign of Edward III. of conferring it on the judges in the courts of law, thus turning a warlike title into a civil honour.[338] Finally, before the end of the fifteenth century, the spirit of chivalry, in France still at its height, was in our country extinct, and this mischievous institution had become a subject for ridicule even among the people themselves.[339] To these circumstances we may add two others, which seem worthy of observation. The first is, that the French, notwithstanding their many admirable qualities, have always been more remarkable for personal vanity than the English;[340] a peculiarity partly referable to those chivalric traditions which even their occasional republics have been unable to destroy, and which makes them attach undue importance to external distinctions, by which I mean, not only dress and manners, but also medals, ribbons, stars, crosses, and the like, which we, a prouder people, have never held in such high estimation. The other circumstance is, that duelling has from the beginning been more popular in France than in England; and as this is a custom which we owe to chivalry, the difference in this respect between the two countries supplies another link in that long chain of evidence by which we must estimate their national tendencies.[341]

[336] Mr. Hallam (_Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 467) observes, that the knight, as compared with other classes, 'was addressed by titles of more respect. _There was not, however, so much distinction in England as in France._' The great honour paid to knights in France is noticed by Daniel (_Milice Française_, vol. i. pp. 128, 129) and Herder (Ideen zur Geschichte, vol. iv. pp. 226, 267) says, that in France chivalry flourished more than in any other country. The same remark is made by Sismondi (_Hist. des Français_, vol. iv. p. 198).

[337] The _Statutum de Militibus_, in 1307, was perhaps the first recognition of this. Compare _Blackstone's Comment._ vol. ii. p. 69; _Barrington on the Statutes_, pp. 192, 193. But we have positive evidence that compulsory knighthood existed in the reign of Henry III.; or at least that those who refused it were obliged to pay a fine. See _Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 421, and _Lyttleton's Hist. of Henry II._ vol. ii. pp. 238, 239, 2nd edit. 4to. 1767. Lord Lyttleton, evidently puzzled, says, 'Indeed it seems a deviation from the original principle of this institution. For one cannot but think it a very great inconsistency, that a dignity, which was deemed an accession of honour to kings themselves, should be forced upon any.'

[338] In _Mills' Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. ii. p. 154, it is said, that 'the judges of the courts of law' were first knighted in the reign of Edward III.

[339] Mr. Mills (_Hist. of Chivalry_, vol. ii. pp. 99, 100) has printed a curious extract from a lamentation over the destruction of chivalry, written in the reign of Edward IV.; but he has overlooked a still more singular instance. This is a popular ballad, written in the middle of the fifteenth century, and called the Turnament of Tottenham, in which the follies of chivalry are admirably ridiculed. See _Warton's Hist. of English Poetry_, edit. 1840, vol. iii. pp. 98-101; and _Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, edit. 1845, pp. 92-95. According to Turner (_Hist. of England_, vol. vi. p. 363), 'the ancient books of chivalry were laid aside' about the reign of Henry VI.

[340] This is not a mere popular opinion, but rests upon a large amount of evidence, supplied by competent and impartial observers. Addison, who was a lenient as well as an able judge, and who had lived much among the French, calls them 'the vainest nation in the world.' _Letter to Bishop Hough_, in _Aikin's Life of Addison_, vol. i. p. 90. Napoleon says, 'vanity is the ruling principle of the French.' _Alison's Hist. of Europe_, vol. vi. p. 25. Dumont (_Souvenirs sur Mirabeau_, p. 111) declares, that 'le trait le plus dominant dans le caractère français, c'est l'amour propre;' and Ségur (_Souvenirs_, vol. i. pp. 73, 74), 'car en France l'amour propre, ou, si on le veut, la vanité, est de toutes les passions la plus irritable.' It is moreover stated, that phrenological observations prove that the French are vainer than the English. _Combe's Elements of Phrenology_, 6th edit. Edinb. 1845, p. 90; and a partial recognition of the same fact in _Broussais_, _Cours de Phrénologie_, p. 297. For other instances of writers who have noticed the vanity of the French, see _Tocqueville_, _l'Ancien Régime_, p. 148; _Barante_, _Lit. Franç. au XVIII^e. Siècle_, p. 80; _Mém. de Brissot_, vol. i. p. 272; _Mézéray_, _Hist. de France_, vol. ii. p. 933; _Lemontey_, _Etablissement Monarchique_, p. 418; _Voltaire_, _Lettres inédites_, vol. ii. p. 282; _Tocqueville_, _Règne de Louis XV_, vol. ii. p. 358; _De Staël sur la Révolution_, vol. i. p. 260, vol. ii. p. 258.

[341] The relation between chivalry and duelling has been noticed by several writers; and in France, where the chivalric spirit was not completely destroyed until the Revolution, we find occasional traces of this connexion even in the reign of Louis XVI. See, for instance, in _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. i. p. 86, a curious letter in regard to chivalry and duelling in 1778. In England there is, I believe, no evidence of even a single private duel being fought earlier than the sixteenth century, and there were not many till the latter half of Elizabeth's reign; but in France the custom arose early in the fifteenth century, and in the sixteenth it became usual for the seconds to fight as well as the principals. Compare _Montlosier_, _Monarc. Franç._ vol. ii. p. 436, with _Monteil_, _Hist. des divers Etats_, vol. vi. p. 48. From that time the love of the French for duelling became quite a passion until the end of the eighteenth century, when the Revolution, or rather the circumstances which led to the Revolution, caused its comparative cessation. Some idea may be formed of the enormous extent of this practice formerly in France, by comparing the following passages, which I have the more pleasure in bringing together, as no one has written even a tolerable history of duelling, notwithstanding the great part it once played in European society. _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._ vol. ix. pp. 592, 593, vol. xv. p. 57; _Daniel_, _Milice Française_, vol. ii. p. 582; _Sully_, _[OE]conomies_, vol. i. p. 301, vol. iii. p. 406, vol. vi. p. 122, vol. viii. p. 41, vol. ix. p. 408; _Carew's State of France under Henry IV._, in _Birch's Historical Negotiations_, p. 467; _Ben Jonson's Works_, edit. Gifford, vol. vi. p. 69; _Dulaure_, _Hist. de Paris_ (1825 3rd edit.), vol. iv. p. 567, vol. v. pp. 300, 301; _Le Clerc_, _Bibliothèque Univ._ vol. xx. p. 242; _Lettres de Patin_, vol. iii. p. 536; _Capefigue_, _Hist. de la Réforme_, vol. viii. p. 98; _Capefigue's Richelieu_, vol. i. p. 63; _Des Réaux_, _Historiettes_, vol. x. p. 13; _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. ii. p. 191, vol. vii. p. 215, vol. ix. p. 351; _Mem. of the Baroness d'Oberkirch_, vol. i. p. 71, edit. Lond. 1852; _Lettres inédites d'Aguesseau_, vol. i. p. 211; _Lettres de Dudeffand à Walpole_, vol. iii. p. 249, vol. iv. pp. 27, 28, 152; _Boullier_, _Maison Militaire des Rois de France_, pp. 87, 88; _Biog. Univ._ vol. v. pp. 402, 403, vol. xxiii. p. 411, vol. xliv. pp. 127, 401, vol. xlviii. p. 522, vol. xlix. p. 130.

The old associations, of which these facts are but the external expression, now continued to act with increasing vigour. In France, the protective spirit, carried into religion, was strong enough to resist the Reformation, and preserve to the clergy the forms, at least, of their ancient supremacy. In England, the pride of men, and their habits of self-reliance, enabled them to mature into a system what is called the right of private judgment, by which some of the most cherished traditions were eradicated; and this, as we have already seen, being quickly succeeded, first by scepticism, and then by toleration, prepared the way for that subordination of the church to the state, for which we are pre-eminent, and without a rival, among the nations of Europe. The very same tendency, acting in politics, displayed analogous results. Our ancestors found no difficulty in humbling the nobles, and reducing them to comparative insignificance. The wars of the Roses, by breaking up the leading families into two hostile factions, aided this movement;[342] and, after the reign of Edward IV., there is no instance of any Englishman, even of the highest rank, venturing to carry on those private wars, by which, in other countries, the great lords still disturbed the peace of society.[343] When the civil contests subsided, the same spirit displayed itself in the policy of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. For, those princes, despots as they were, mainly oppressed the highest classes; and even Henry VIII., notwithstanding his barbarous cruelties, was loved by the people, to whom his reign was, on the whole, decidedly beneficial. Then there came the Reformation; which, being an uprising of the human mind, was essentially a rebellious movement, and thus increasing the insubordination of men, sowed, in the sixteenth century, the seeds of those great political revolutions which, in the seventeenth century, broke out in nearly every part of Europe. The connexion between these two revolutionary epochs is a subject full of interest; but, for the purpose of the present chapter, it will be sufficient to notice such events, during the latter half of the sixteenth century, as explain the sympathy between the ecclesiastical and aristocratic classes, and prove how the same circumstances that were fatal to the one, also prepared the way for the downfall of the other.

[342] On the effect of the wars of the Roses upon the nobles, compare _Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 10; _Lingard's Hist. of England_, vol. iii. p. 340; _Eccleston's English Antiq._ pp. 224, 320: and on their immense pecuniary, or rather territorial, losses, _Sinclair's Hist. of the Revenue_, vol. i. p. 155.

[343] 'The last instance of a pitched battle between two powerful noblemen in England occurs in the reign of Edward IV.' _Allen on the Prerogative_, p. 123.

When Elizabeth ascended the throne of England, a large majority of the nobility were opposed to the Protestant religion. This we know from the most decisive evidence; and, even if we had no such evidence, a general acquaintance with human nature would induce us to suspect that such was the case. For, the aristocracy, by the very conditions of their existence, must, as a body, always be averse to innovation. And this, not only because by a change they have much to lose and little to gain, but because some of their most pleasurable emotions are connected with the past rather than with the present. In the collision of actual life, their vanity is sometimes offended by the assumptions of inferior men; it is frequently wounded by the successful competition of able men. These are mortifications to which, in the progress of society, their liability is constantly increasing. But the moment they turn to the past, they see in those good old times which are now gone by, many sources of consolation. There they find a period in which their glory is without a rival. When they look at their pedigrees, their quarterings, their escutcheons; when they think of the purity of their blood, and the antiquity of their ancestors--they experience a comfort which ought amply to atone for any present inconvenience. The tendency of this is very obvious, and has shown itself in the history of every aristocracy the world has yet seen. Men who have worked themselves to so extravagant a pitch as to believe that it is an honour to have had one ancestor who came over with the Normans, and another ancestor who was present at the first invasion of Ireland--men who have reached this ecstacy of the fancy are not disposed to stop there, but, by a process with which most minds are familiar, they generalize their view; and, even on matters not immediately connected with their fame, they acquire a habit of associating grandeur with antiquity, and of measuring value by age; thus transferring to the past an admiration which otherwise they might reserve for the present.

The connexion between these feelings and those which animate the clergy is very evident. What the nobles are to politics, that are the priests to religion. Both classes, constantly appealing to the voice of antiquity, rely much on tradition, and make great account of upholding established customs. Both take for granted that what is old is better than what is new; and that in former times there were means of discovering truths respecting government and theology which we, in these degenerate ages, no longer possess. And it may be added, that the similarity of their functions follows from the similarity of their principles. Both are eminently protective, stationary, or, as they are sometimes called, conservative. It is believed that the aristocracy guard the state against revolution, and that the clergy keep the church from error. The first are the enemies of reformers; the others are the scourge of heretics.

It does not enter into the province of this Introduction to examine how far these principles are reasonable, or to inquire into the propriety of notions which suppose that, on certain subjects of immense importance, men are to remain stationary, while on all other subjects they are constantly advancing. But what I now rather wish to point out, is the manner in which, in the reign of Elizabeth, the two great conservative and protective classes were weakened by that vast movement, the Reformation, which, though completed in the sixteenth century, had been prepared by a long chain of intellectual antecedents.

Whatever the prejudices of some may suggest, it will be admitted, by all unbiassed judges, that the Protestant Reformation was neither more nor less than an open rebellion. Indeed, the mere mention of private judgment, on which it was avowedly based, is enough to substantiate this fact. To establish the right of private judgment, was to appeal from the church to individuals; it was to increase the play of each man's intellect; it was to test the opinions of the priesthood by the opinions of laymen; it was, in fact, a rising of the scholars against their teachers, of the ruled against their rulers. And although the reformed clergy, as soon as they had organised themselves into a hierarchy, did undoubtedly abandon the great principle with which they started, and attempt to impose articles and canons of their own contrivance, still, this ought not to blind us to the merits of the Reformation itself. The tyranny of the Church of England, during the reign of Elizabeth, and still more during the reigns of her two successors, was but the natural consequence of that corruption which power always begets in those who wield it, and does not lessen the importance of the movement by which the power was originally obtained. For men could not forget that, tried by the old theological theory, the church of England was a schismatic establishment, and could only defend itself from the charge of heresy by appealing to that private judgment, to the exercise of which it owed its existence, but of the rights of which its own proceedings were a constant infraction. It was evident that if, in religious matters, private judgment were supreme, it became a high spiritual crime to issue any articles, or to take any measure, by which that judgment could be tied up; while, on the other hand, if the right of private judgment were not supreme, the church of England was guilty of apostacy, inasmuch as its founders did, by virtue of the interpretation which their own private judgment made of the Bible, abandon tenets which they had hitherto held, stigmatize those tenets as idolatrous, and openly renounce their allegiance to what had for centuries been venerated as the catholic and apostolic church.

This was a simple alternative; which might, indeed, be kept out of sight, but could not be refined away, and most assuredly has never been forgotten. The memory of the great truth it conveys was preserved by the writings and teachings of the Puritans, and by those habits of thought natural to an inquisitive age. And when the fulness of time had come, it did not fail to bear its fruit. It continued slowly to fructify; and before the middle of the seventeenth century, its seed had quickened into a life, the energy of which nothing could withstand. That same right of private judgment which the early Reformers had loudly proclaimed, was now pushed to an extent fatal to those who opposed it. This it was which, carried into politics, overturned the government, and, carried into religion, upset the church.[344] For, rebellion and heresy are but different forms of the same disregard of tradition, the same bold and independent spirit. Both are of the nature of a protest made by modern ideas against old associations. They are as a struggle between the feelings of the present and the memory of the past. Without the exercise of private judgment, such a contest could never take place; the mere conception of it could not enter the minds of men, nor would they even dream of controlling, by their individual energy, those abuses to which all great societies are liable. It is, therefore, in the highest degree natural that the exercise of this judgment should be opposed by those two powerful classes who, from their position, their interests, and the habits of their mind, are more prone than any other to cherish antiquity, cleave to superannuated customs, and uphold institutions which, to use their favourite language, have been consecrated by the wisdom of their fathers.

[344] Clarendon (_Hist. of the Rebellion_, p. 80), in a very angry spirit, but with perfect truth, notices (under the year 1640) the connexion between 'a proud and venomous dislike against the discipline of the church of England, and so by degrees (as the progress is very natural) an equal irreverence to the government of the state too.' The Spanish government, perhaps more than any other in Europe, has understood this relation; and even so late as 1789, an edict of Charles IV. declared, 'qu'il y a crime d'hérésie dans tout ce qui tend, ou contribue, à propager les idées révolutionnaires.' _Llorente_, _Hist. de l'Inquisition_, vol. ii. p. 130.

From this point of view we are able to see with great clearness the intimate connexion which, at the accession of Elizabeth, existed between the English nobles and the Catholic clergy. Notwithstanding many exceptions, an immense majority of both classes opposed the Reformation, because it was based on that right of private judgment of which they, as the protectors of old opinions, were the natural antagonists. All this can excite no surprise; it was in the order of things, and strictly accordant with the spirit of those two great sections of society. Fortunately, however, for our country, the throne was now occupied by a sovereign who was equal to the emergency, and who, instead of yielding to the two classes, availed herself of the temper of the age to humble them. The manner in which this was effected by Elizabeth, in respect, first to the Catholic clergy, and afterwards to the Protestant clergy,[345] forms one of the most interesting parts of our history; and in an account of the reign of the great queen, I hope to examine it at considerable length. At present, it will be sufficient to glance at her policy towards the nobles--that other class with which the priesthood, by their interests, opinions, and associations, have always much in common.

[345] The general character of her policy towards the Protestant English bishops is summed up very fairly by Collier; though he, as a professional writer, is naturally displeased with her disregard for the heads of the church. _Collier's Eccles. Hist. of Great Britain_, vol. vii. pp. 257, 258, edit. Barham, 1840.

Elizabeth, at her accession to the throne, finding that the ancient families adhered to the ancient religion, naturally called to her councils advisers who were more likely to uphold the novelties on which the age was bent. She selected men who, being little burdened by past associations, were more inclined to favour present interests. The two Bacons, the two Cecils, Knollys, Sadler, Smith, Throgmorton, Walsingham, were the most eminent statesmen and diplomatists in her reign; but all of them were commoners; only one did she raise to the peerage; and they were certainly nowise remarkable, either for the rank of their immediate connexions, or for the celebrity of their remote ancestors. They, however, were recommended to Elizabeth by their great abilities, and by their determination to uphold a religion which the ancient aristocracy naturally opposed. And it is observable that, among the accusations which the Catholics brought against the queen, they taunted her, not only with forsaking the old religion, but also with neglecting the old nobility.[346]

[346] One of the charges which, in 1588, Sixtus V. publicly brought against Elizabeth, was, that 'she hath rejected and excluded the ancient nobility, and promoted to honour obscure people.' _Butler's Mem. of the Catholics_, vol. ii. p. 4. Persons also reproaches her with her low-born ministers, and says that she was influenced 'by five persons in particular--all of them sprung from the earth--Bacon, Cecil, Dudley, Hatton, and Walsingham.' _Butler_, vol. ii. p. 31. Cardinal Allen taunted her with 'disgracing the ancient nobility, erecting base and unworthy persons to all the civil and ecclesiastical dignities.' _Dodd's Church History_, edit. Tierney, 1840, vol. iii. appendix no. xii. p. xlvi. The same influential writer, in his _Admonition_, said that she had injured England, 'by great contempt and abasing of the ancient nobility, repelling them from due government, offices, and places of honour.' _Allen's Admonition to the Nobility and People of England and Ireland_, 1588 (reprinted London, 1842), p. xv. Compare the account of the Bull of 1588, in _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._ vol. x. p. 175: 'On accusoit Elisabeth d'avoir au préjudice de la noblesse angloise élevé aux dignités, tant civiles qu'ecclésiastiques, des hommes nouveaux, sans naissance, et indignes de les posséder.'

Nor does it require much acquaintance with the history of the time to see the justice of this charge. Whatever explanation we may choose to give of the fact, it cannot be denied that, during the reign of Elizabeth, there was an open and constant opposition between the nobles and the executive government. The rebellion of 1569 was essentially an aristocratic movement; it was a rising of the great families of the north against what they considered the upstart and plebeian administration of the queen.[347] The bitterest enemy of Elizabeth was certainly Mary of Scotland; and the interests of Mary were publicly defended by the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Northumberland, the Earl of Westmoreland, and the Earl of Arundel; while there is reason to believe that her cause was secretly favoured by the Marquis of Northampton, the Earl of Pembroke, the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Cumberland, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and the Earl of Sussex.[348]

[347] To the philosophic historian this rebellion, though not sufficiently appreciated by ordinary writers, is a very important study, because it is the last attempt ever made by the great English families to establish their authority by force of arms. Mr. Wright says, that probably all those who took a leading part in it 'were allied by blood or intermarriage with the two families of the Percies and Neviles.' _Wright's Elizabeth_, 1838, vol. i. p. xxxiv.; a valuable work. See also, in _Parl. Hist._ vol. i. p. 730, a list of some of those who, in 1571, were attainted on account of this rebellion, and who are said to be 'all of the best families in the north of England.'

But the most complete evidence we have respecting this struggle, consists of the collection of original documents published in 1840 by Sir C. Sharpe, under the title of _Memorials of the Rebellion of 1569_. They show very clearly the real nature of the outbreak. On 17th November 1569, Sir George Bowes writes, that the complaint of the insurgents was that 'there was certaine counsellors cropen' (_i.e._ crept) 'in aboute the prince, which had excluded the nobility from the prince,' &c., _Memorials_, p. 42; and the editor's note says that this is one of the charges made in all the proclamations by the earls. Perhaps the most curious proof of how notorious the policy of Elizabeth had become, is contained in a friendly letter from Sussex to Cecil, dated 5th January 1569 (_Memorials_, p. 137), one paragraph of which begins, 'Of late years few young noblemen have been employed in service.'

[348] _Hallam_, i. p. 130; _Lingard_, v. pp. 97, 102; _Turner_, xii. pp. 245, 247.

The existence of this antagonism of interests could not escape the sagacity of the English government. Cecil, who was the most powerful of the ministers of Elizabeth, and who was at the head of affairs for forty years, made it part of his business to study the genealogies and material resources of the great families; and this he did, not out of idle curiosity, but in order to increase his control over them, or, as a great historian says, to let them know 'that his eye was upon them.'[349] The queen herself, though too fond of power, was by no means of a cruel disposition; but she seemed to delight in humbling the nobles. On them her hand fell heavily; and there is hardly to be found a single instance of her pardoning their offences, while she punished several of them for acts which would now be considered no offences at all. She was always unwilling to admit them to authority; and it is unquestionably true that, taking them as a class, they were, during her long and prosperous reign, treated with unusual disrespect. Indeed, so clearly marked was her policy, that when the ducal order became extinct, she refused to renew it; and a whole generation passed away to whom the name of duke was a mere matter of history, a point to be mooted by antiquaries, but with which the business of practical life had no concern.[350] Whatever may be her other faults, she was on this subject always consistent. Although she evinced the greatest anxiety to surround the throne with men of ability, she cared little for those conventional distinctions by which the minds of ordinary sovereigns are greatly moved. She made no account of dignity of rank; she did not even care for purity of blood. She valued men neither for the splendour of their ancestry, nor for the length of their pedigrees, nor for the grandeur of their titles. Such questions she left for her degenerate successors, to the size of whose understandings they were admirably fitted. Our great queen regulated her conduct by another standard. Her large and powerful intellect, cultivated to its highest point by reflection and study, taught her the true measure of affairs, and enabled her to see, that to make a government flourish, its councillors must be men of ability and of virtue; but that if these two conditions are fulfilled, the nobles may be left to repose in the enjoyment of their leisure, unoppressed by those cares of the state for which, with a few brilliant exceptions, they are naturally disqualified by the number of their prejudices and by the frivolity of their pursuits.

[349] _Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 241; an interesting passage. Turner (_Hist. of England_, vol. xii. p. 237) says, that Cecil 'knew the tendency of the great lords to combine against the crown, that they might reinstate the peerage in the power from which the house of Tudor had depressed it.'

[350] In 1572 the order of dukes became extinct; and was not revived till fifty years afterwards, when James I. made the miserable Villiers, duke of Buckingham. _Blackstone's Commentaries_, vol. i. p. 397. This evidently attracted attention; for Ben Jonson, in one of his comedies in 1616, mentions 'the received heresy that England bears no dukes.' _Jonson's Works_, edit. Gifford, 1816, vol. v. p. 47, where Gifford, not being aware of the extinction in 1572, has made an unsatisfactory note.

After the death of Elizabeth, an attempt was made, first by James, and then by Charles, to revive the power of the two great protective classes, the nobles and the clergy. But so admirably had the policy of Elizabeth been supported by the general temper of the age, that it was found impossible for the Stuarts to execute their mischievous plans. The exercise of private judgment, both in religion and in politics, had become so habitual, that these princes were unable to subjugate it to their will. And as Charles I., with inconceivable blindness, and with an obstinacy even greater than that of his father, persisted in adopting in their worst forms the superannuated theories of protection, and attempted to enforce a scheme of government which men from their increasing independence were determined to reject, there inevitably arose that memorable collision which is well termed The Great Rebellion of England.[351] The analogy between this and the Protestant Reformation, I have already noticed; but what we have now to consider, and what, in the next chapter, I will endeavour to trace, is the nature of the difference between our Rebellion, and those contemporary wars of the Fronde, to which it was in some respects very similar.

[351] Clarendon (_Hist. of the Rebellion_, p. 216) truly calls it 'the most prodigious and the boldest rebellion, that any age or country ever brought forth.' See also some striking remarks in _Warwick's Memoirs_, p. 207.