Part 9

And such appears to have been the condition of our language in the age of ELIZABETH. It was pure, strong, and perspicuous, without affectation. At the same time, the high figurative manner, which fits a language so peculiarly for the uses of the poet, had not yet been controlled by the prosaic genius of philosophy and logic. Indeed, this character had been struck so deeply into the _English_ tongue, that it was not to be removed by any ordinary improvements in either: the reason of which might be, the delight which was taken by the _English_ very early in their old MYSTERIES and MORALITIES; and the continuance of the same spirit in succeeding times, by means of their MASQUES and TRIUMPHS. And something like this, I observe, attended the progress of the _Greek_ and _Roman_ poetry; which was the _truest_ poetry, on the clown’s maxim in SHAKESPEAR, because it was _the most feigning_[83]. It had its rise, you know, like ours, from religion: and pagan religion, of all others, was the properest to introduce and encourage a spirit of allegory and moral fiction. Hence we easily account for the allegoric cast of their old dramas, which have a great resemblance to our ancient moralities. NECESSITY is brought in as a _person of the drama_, in one of ÆSCHYLUS’S plays; and DEATH in one of EURIPIDES: to say nothing of many shadowy persons in the comedies of ARISTOPHANES. The truth is, the pagan religion _deified_ every thing, and delivered these deities into the hand of their painters, sculptors, and poets. In like manner, Christian superstition, or, if you will, modern barbarism, _impersonated_ every thing; and these persons, in proper form, subsisted for some time on the stage, and almost to our days, in the masques. Hence the picturesque style of our old poetry; which looks so fanciful in SPENSER, and which SHAKESPEAR’S genius hath carried to the utmost sublimity.

I will not deny, said Mr. ADDISON, but there may be something in this deduction of the causes, by which you account for the strength and grandeur of the _English_ poetry, unpolished as it still was in the hands of ELIZABETH’S great poets. But for the masques themselves—

You forget, I believe, _one_, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, which does your favourite poet, MILTON, almost as much honour, as his _Paradise Lost_.—But I have no mind to engage in a further vindication of these fancies. I only conclude that the taste of the age, the state of letters, the genius of the _English_ tongue, was such as gave a manliness to their compositions of all sorts, and even an elegance to those of the lighter forms, which we might do well to emulate, and not deride, in this æra of politeness.

But I am aware, as you say, I have been transported too far. My design was only to hint to you, in opposition to your invective against the memory of the old times, awakened in us by the sight of this castle, that what you object to is capable of a much fairer interpretation. You have a proof of it, in two or three instances; in their festivals, their exercises, and their poetical fictions: or, to express myself in the classical forms, you have seen by this view of their CONVIVIAL, GYMNASTIC, and MUSICAL character, that the times of ELIZABETH may pass for golden, notwithstanding what a fondness for this age of baser metal may incline us to represent it.

In the mean time, these smaller matters have drawn me aside from my main purpose. What surprised me most, pursued he, was to hear you speak so slightly, I would not call it by a worse name, of the GOVERNMENT of ELIZABETH. Of the manners and tastes of different ages, different persons, according to their views of things, will judge very differently. But plain facts speak so strongly in favour of the policy of that reign, and the superior talents of the sovereign, that I could not but take it for the wantonness of opposition in you to espouse the contrary opinion. And, now I am warmed by this slight skirmish, I am even bold enough to dare you to a defence of it; if, indeed, you were serious in advancing that strange paradox. At least, I could wish to hear upon what grounds you would justify so severe an attack on the reverend administration of that reign, supported by the wisdom of such men as CECIL and WALSINGHAM, under the direction of so accomplished a princess as our ELIZABETH. Your manner of defending even the wrong side of the question will, at least, be entertaining. And, I think, I may answer for our young friend, that his curiosity will lead him to join me in this request to you.

Mr. ADDISON said, He did not expect to be called to so severe an account for what had escaped him on this subject. But, though I was ever so willing, continued he, to oblige you, this is no time or place for entering on such a controversy. We have not yet compleated the round of these buildings. And I would fain, methinks, make the circuit of that pleasant meadow. Besides its having been once, in another form, the scene of those shows you described so largely to us, it will deserve to be visited for the sake of the many fine views which, as we wind along it, we may promise to ourselves of these ruins.

You forget my bad legs, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT smiling; otherwise, I suppose, we can neither of us have any dislike to your proposal. But, as you please: let us descend from these heights. We may resume the conversation, as we walk along: and especially, as you propose, when we get down into that valley.

DIALOGUE IV.

ON THE

GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

BETWEEN

THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY,

DR. ARBUTHNOT,

AND

MR. ADDISON.

DIALOGUE IV.

ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.

But do you consider, said Mr. ADDISON, as they descended into the valley, what an invidious task you are going to impose upon me? One cannot call in question a common opinion in any indifferent matter, without the appearance of some degree of perverseness. But to do it in a case of this importance, where the greatest authorities stand in the way, and the glory of one of our princes is concerned, will, I doubt, be liable to the imputation of something worse than singularity. For, besides that you will be apt to upbraid me, in the words of the poet,

Nullum memorabile nomen Fœmineâ in pœnâ est, nec habet victoria laudem,

such a liberty of censure is usually taken for an argument, not of discourtesy or presumption only, but of ill-nature. At best, the attempt to arraign the virtues and government of ELIZABETH will appear but like the idleness of the old sophists, who, you know, were never so well pleased as when they were controverting some acknowledged fact, or assaulting some established character.

That censure might be just enough, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, of the old sophists, who had nothing in view but the credit of their own skill in the arts of disputation. But in this friendly debate, which means nothing more than private amusement, I see no colour for such apprehensions.

But what shall we say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, to another difficulty? The subject is very large; and it seems no easy matter to reduce it into any distinct order. Besides, my business is not so much to advance any thing of my own, as to object to what others have advanced concerning the fame and virtues of ELIZABETH. And to this end, I must desire to know the particulars on which you are disposed to lay the greatest stress, and indeed to have some plan of the subject delivered in to me, which may serve, as it were, for the groundwork of the whole conversation.

I must not presume, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to prescribe the order in which your attack on the great queen shall be conducted. The subject, indeed, is large. But this common route of history is well known to all of us. To that, then, you may well enough refer, without being at the trouble, before you go to work, of laying foundations. Or, if you will needs have a basis to build upon, what if I just run over the several circumstances which I conceive to make most for the credit of that reign? A sketch of this sort, I suppose, will answer all the ends of the plan, you seem to require of me.

Mr. ADDISON agreed to this proposal; which he thought would be of use to shorten the debate, or at least to render the progress of it more clear and intelligible.

In few words then, resumed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, the reasons, that have principally determined me to an admiration of the government and character of queen ELIZABETH, are such as these: “That she came to the crown with all possible disadvantages; which yet, by the prudence and vigour of her counsels, she entirely overcame: that she triumphed over the greatest foreign and domestic dangers: that she humbled the most formidable power in _Europe_ by her arms; and composed, or checked at least, by the firmness of her administration, TWO, the most implacable and fiery factions at home: that she kept down the rebellious spirit of _Ireland_, and eluded the constant intrigues of her restless neighbours, the _Scots_: that she fixed our religious establishment on solid grounds; and countenanced, or rather conducted, the Protestant cause abroad: that she made her civil authority respected by her subjects; and raised the military glory of the nation, both by sea and land, to the greatest height: that she employed the ablest servants, and enacted the wisest laws: by all which means it came to pass that she lived in a constant good understanding with her parliaments, was idolized by her people, and admired and envied by all the rest of the world.”

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.