The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1 - Thomas Babington Macaulay (novel books to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Thomas Babington Macaulay
Book online «The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1 - Thomas Babington Macaulay (novel books to read TXT) 📗». Author Thomas Babington Macaulay
and of the Saxon
yeomanry. How great a part the Roman Catholic ecclesiastics
subsequently had in the abolition of villenage we learn from the
unexceptionable testimony of Sir Thomas Smith, one of the ablest
Protestant counsellors of Elizabeth. When the dying slaveholder
asked for the last sacraments, his spiritual attendants regularly
adjured him, as he loved his soul, to emancipate his brethren for
whom Christ had died. So successfully had the Church used her
formidable machinery that, before the Reformation came, she had
enfranchised almost all the bondmen in the kingdom except her
own, who, to do her justice, seem to have been very tenderly
treated.
There can be no doubt that, when these two great revolutions had
been effected, our forefathers were by far the best governed
people in Europe. During three hundred years the social system
had been in a constant course of improvement. Under the first
Plantagenets there had been barons able to bid defiance to the
sovereign, and peasants degraded to the level of the swine and
oxen which they tended. The exorbitant power of the baron had
been gradually reduced. The condition of the peasant had been
gradually elevated. Between the aristocracy and the working
people had sprung up a middle class, agricultural and commercial.
There was still, it may be, more inequality than is favourable to
the happiness and virtue of our species: but no man was
altogether above the restraints of law; and no man was altogether
below its protection.
That the political institutions of England were, at this early
period, regarded by the English with pride and affection, and by
the most enlightened men of neighbouring nations with admiration
and envy, is proved by the clearest evidence. But touching the
nature of these institutions there has been much dishonest and
acrimonious controversy.
The historical literature of England has indeed suffered
grievously from a circumstance which has not a little contributed
to her prosperity. The change, great as it is, which her polity
has undergone during the last six centuries, has been the effect
of gradual development, not of demolition and reconstruction. The
present constitution of our country is, to the constitution under
which she flourished five hundred years ago, what the tree is to
the sapling, what the man is to the boy. The alteration has been
great. Yet there never was a moment at which the chief part of
what existed was not old. A polity thus formed must abound in
anomalies. But for the evils arising from mere anomalies we have
ample compensation. Other societies possess written constitutions
more symmetrical. But no other society has yet succeeded in
uniting revolution with prescription, progress with stability,
the energy of youth with the majesty of immemorial antiquity.
This great blessing, however, has its drawbacks: and one of those
drawbacks is that every source of information as to our early
history has been poisoned by party spirit. As there is no country
where statesmen have been so much under the influence of the
past, so there is no country where historians have been so much
under the influence of the present. Between these two things,
indeed, there is a natural connection. Where history is regarded
merely as a picture of life and manners, or as a collection of
experiments from which general maxims of civil wisdom may be
drawn, a writer lies under no very pressing temptation to
misrepresent transactions of ancient date. But where history is
regarded as a repository of titledeeds, on which the rights of
governments and nations depend, the motive to falsification
becomes almost irresistible. A Frenchman is not now impelled by
any strong interest either to exaggerate or to underrate the
power of the Kings of the house of Valois. The privileges of the
States General, of the States of Britanny, of the States of
Burgundy, are to him matters of as little practical importance as
the constitution of the Jewish Sanhedrim or of the Amphictyonic
Council. The gulph of a great revolution completely separates the
new from the old system. No such chasm divides the existence of
the English nation into two distinct parts. Our laws and customs
have never been lost in general and irreparable ruin. With us the
precedents of the middle ages are still valid precedents, and are
still cited, on the gravest occasions, by the most eminent
Statesmen. For example, when King George the Third was attacked
by the malady which made him incapable of performing his regal
functions, and when the most distinguished lawyers and
politicians differed widely as to the course which ought, in such
circumstances, to be pursued, the Houses of Parliament would not
proceed to discuss any plan of regency till all the precedents
which were to be found in our annals, from the earliest times,
had been collected and arranged. Committees were appointed to
examine the ancient records of the realm. The first case reported
was that of the year 1217: much importance was attached to the
cases of 1326, of 1377, and of 1422: but the case which was
justly considered as most in point was that of 1455. Thus in our
country the dearest interests of parties have frequently been on
the results of the researches of antiquaries. The inevitable
consequence was that our antiquaries conducted their researches
in the spirit of partisans.
It is therefore not surprising that those who have written,
concerning the limits of prerogative and liberty in the old
polity of England should generally have shown the temper, not of
judges, but of angry and uncandid advocates. For they were
discussing, not a speculative matter, but a matter which had a
direct and practical connection with the most momentous and
exciting disputes of their own day. From the commencement of the
long contest between the Parliament and the Stuarts down to the
time when the pretensions of the Stuarts ceased to be
formidable, few questions were practically more important than
the question whether the administration of that family had or had
not been in accordance with the ancient constitution of the
kingdom. This question could be decided only by reference to the
records of preceding reigns. Bracton and Fleta, the Mirror of
Justice and the Rolls of Parliament, were ransacked to find
pretexts for the excesses of the Star Chamber on one side, and of
the High Court of Justice on the other. During a long course of
years every Whig historian was anxious to prove that the old
English government was all but republican, every Tory historian
to prove that it was all but despotic.
With such feelings, both parties looked into the chronicles of
the middle ages. Both readily found what they sought; and both
obstinately refused to see anything but what they sought. The
champions of the Stuarts could easily point out instances of
oppression exercised on the subject. The defenders of the
Roundheads could as easily produce instances of determined and
successful resistance offered to the Crown. The Tories quoted,
from ancient writings, expressions almost as servile as were
heard from the pulpit of Mainwaring. The Whigs discovered
expressions as bold and severe as any that resounded from the
judgment seat of Bradshaw. One set of writers adduced numerous
instances in which Kings had extorted money without the authority
of Parliament. Another set cited cases in which the Parliament
had assumed to itself the power of inflicting punishment on
Kings. Those who saw only one half of the evidence would have
concluded that the Plantagenets were as absolute as the Sultans
of Turkey: those who saw only the other half would have concluded
that the Plantagenets had as little real power as the Doges of
Venice; and both conclusions would have been equally remote from
the truth.
The old English government was one of a class of limited
monarchies which sprang up in Western Europe during the middle
ages, and which, notwithstanding many diversities, bore to one
another a strong family likeness. That there should have been
such a likeness is not strange The countries in which those
monarchies arose had been provinces of the same great civilised
empire, and had been overrun and conquered, about the same time,
by tribes of the same rude and warlike nation. They were members
of the same great coalition against Islam. They were in communion
with the same superb and ambitious Church. Their polity naturally
took the same form. They had institutions derived partly from
imperial Rome, partly from papal Rome, partly from the old
Germany. All had Kings; and in all the kingly office became by
degrees strictly hereditary. All had nobles bearing titles which
had originally indicated military rank. The dignity of
knighthood, the rules of heraldry, were common to all. All had
richly endowed ecclesiastical establishments, municipal
corporations enjoying large franchises, and senates whose consent
was necessary to the validity of some public acts.
Of these kindred constitutions the English was, from an early
period, justly reputed the best. The prerogatives of the
sovereign were undoubtedly extensive. The spirit of religion and
the spirit of chivalry concurred to exalt his dignity. The sacred
oil had been poured on his head. It was no disparagement to the
bravest and noblest knights to kneel at his feet. His person was
inviolable. He alone was entitled to convoke the Estates of the
realm: he could at his pleasure dismiss them; and his assent was
necessary to all their legislative acts. He was the chief of the
executive administration, the sole organ of communication with
foreign powers, the captain of the military and naval forces of
the state, the fountain of justice, of mercy, and of honour. He
had large powers for the regulation of trade. It was by him that
money was coined, that weights and measures were fixed, that
marts and havens were appointed. His ecclesiastical patronage was
immense. His hereditary revenues, economically administered,
sufficed to meet the ordinary charges of government. His own
domains were of vast extent. He was also feudal lord paramount of
the whole soil of his kingdom, and, in that capacity, possessed
many lucrative and many formidable rights, which enabled him to
annoy and depress those who thwarted him, and to enrich and
aggrandise, without any cost to himself, those who enjoyed his
favour.
But his power, though ample, was limited by three great
constitutional principles, so ancient that none can say when they
began to exist, so potent that their natural development,
continued through many generations, has produced the order of
things under which we now live.
First, the King could not legislate without the consent of his
Parliament. Secondly, he could impose no tax without the consent
of his Parliament. Thirdly, he was bound to conduct the executive
administration according to the laws of the land, and, if he
broke those laws, his advisers and his agents were responsible.
No candid
yeomanry. How great a part the Roman Catholic ecclesiastics
subsequently had in the abolition of villenage we learn from the
unexceptionable testimony of Sir Thomas Smith, one of the ablest
Protestant counsellors of Elizabeth. When the dying slaveholder
asked for the last sacraments, his spiritual attendants regularly
adjured him, as he loved his soul, to emancipate his brethren for
whom Christ had died. So successfully had the Church used her
formidable machinery that, before the Reformation came, she had
enfranchised almost all the bondmen in the kingdom except her
own, who, to do her justice, seem to have been very tenderly
treated.
There can be no doubt that, when these two great revolutions had
been effected, our forefathers were by far the best governed
people in Europe. During three hundred years the social system
had been in a constant course of improvement. Under the first
Plantagenets there had been barons able to bid defiance to the
sovereign, and peasants degraded to the level of the swine and
oxen which they tended. The exorbitant power of the baron had
been gradually reduced. The condition of the peasant had been
gradually elevated. Between the aristocracy and the working
people had sprung up a middle class, agricultural and commercial.
There was still, it may be, more inequality than is favourable to
the happiness and virtue of our species: but no man was
altogether above the restraints of law; and no man was altogether
below its protection.
That the political institutions of England were, at this early
period, regarded by the English with pride and affection, and by
the most enlightened men of neighbouring nations with admiration
and envy, is proved by the clearest evidence. But touching the
nature of these institutions there has been much dishonest and
acrimonious controversy.
The historical literature of England has indeed suffered
grievously from a circumstance which has not a little contributed
to her prosperity. The change, great as it is, which her polity
has undergone during the last six centuries, has been the effect
of gradual development, not of demolition and reconstruction. The
present constitution of our country is, to the constitution under
which she flourished five hundred years ago, what the tree is to
the sapling, what the man is to the boy. The alteration has been
great. Yet there never was a moment at which the chief part of
what existed was not old. A polity thus formed must abound in
anomalies. But for the evils arising from mere anomalies we have
ample compensation. Other societies possess written constitutions
more symmetrical. But no other society has yet succeeded in
uniting revolution with prescription, progress with stability,
the energy of youth with the majesty of immemorial antiquity.
This great blessing, however, has its drawbacks: and one of those
drawbacks is that every source of information as to our early
history has been poisoned by party spirit. As there is no country
where statesmen have been so much under the influence of the
past, so there is no country where historians have been so much
under the influence of the present. Between these two things,
indeed, there is a natural connection. Where history is regarded
merely as a picture of life and manners, or as a collection of
experiments from which general maxims of civil wisdom may be
drawn, a writer lies under no very pressing temptation to
misrepresent transactions of ancient date. But where history is
regarded as a repository of titledeeds, on which the rights of
governments and nations depend, the motive to falsification
becomes almost irresistible. A Frenchman is not now impelled by
any strong interest either to exaggerate or to underrate the
power of the Kings of the house of Valois. The privileges of the
States General, of the States of Britanny, of the States of
Burgundy, are to him matters of as little practical importance as
the constitution of the Jewish Sanhedrim or of the Amphictyonic
Council. The gulph of a great revolution completely separates the
new from the old system. No such chasm divides the existence of
the English nation into two distinct parts. Our laws and customs
have never been lost in general and irreparable ruin. With us the
precedents of the middle ages are still valid precedents, and are
still cited, on the gravest occasions, by the most eminent
Statesmen. For example, when King George the Third was attacked
by the malady which made him incapable of performing his regal
functions, and when the most distinguished lawyers and
politicians differed widely as to the course which ought, in such
circumstances, to be pursued, the Houses of Parliament would not
proceed to discuss any plan of regency till all the precedents
which were to be found in our annals, from the earliest times,
had been collected and arranged. Committees were appointed to
examine the ancient records of the realm. The first case reported
was that of the year 1217: much importance was attached to the
cases of 1326, of 1377, and of 1422: but the case which was
justly considered as most in point was that of 1455. Thus in our
country the dearest interests of parties have frequently been on
the results of the researches of antiquaries. The inevitable
consequence was that our antiquaries conducted their researches
in the spirit of partisans.
It is therefore not surprising that those who have written,
concerning the limits of prerogative and liberty in the old
polity of England should generally have shown the temper, not of
judges, but of angry and uncandid advocates. For they were
discussing, not a speculative matter, but a matter which had a
direct and practical connection with the most momentous and
exciting disputes of their own day. From the commencement of the
long contest between the Parliament and the Stuarts down to the
time when the pretensions of the Stuarts ceased to be
formidable, few questions were practically more important than
the question whether the administration of that family had or had
not been in accordance with the ancient constitution of the
kingdom. This question could be decided only by reference to the
records of preceding reigns. Bracton and Fleta, the Mirror of
Justice and the Rolls of Parliament, were ransacked to find
pretexts for the excesses of the Star Chamber on one side, and of
the High Court of Justice on the other. During a long course of
years every Whig historian was anxious to prove that the old
English government was all but republican, every Tory historian
to prove that it was all but despotic.
With such feelings, both parties looked into the chronicles of
the middle ages. Both readily found what they sought; and both
obstinately refused to see anything but what they sought. The
champions of the Stuarts could easily point out instances of
oppression exercised on the subject. The defenders of the
Roundheads could as easily produce instances of determined and
successful resistance offered to the Crown. The Tories quoted,
from ancient writings, expressions almost as servile as were
heard from the pulpit of Mainwaring. The Whigs discovered
expressions as bold and severe as any that resounded from the
judgment seat of Bradshaw. One set of writers adduced numerous
instances in which Kings had extorted money without the authority
of Parliament. Another set cited cases in which the Parliament
had assumed to itself the power of inflicting punishment on
Kings. Those who saw only one half of the evidence would have
concluded that the Plantagenets were as absolute as the Sultans
of Turkey: those who saw only the other half would have concluded
that the Plantagenets had as little real power as the Doges of
Venice; and both conclusions would have been equally remote from
the truth.
The old English government was one of a class of limited
monarchies which sprang up in Western Europe during the middle
ages, and which, notwithstanding many diversities, bore to one
another a strong family likeness. That there should have been
such a likeness is not strange The countries in which those
monarchies arose had been provinces of the same great civilised
empire, and had been overrun and conquered, about the same time,
by tribes of the same rude and warlike nation. They were members
of the same great coalition against Islam. They were in communion
with the same superb and ambitious Church. Their polity naturally
took the same form. They had institutions derived partly from
imperial Rome, partly from papal Rome, partly from the old
Germany. All had Kings; and in all the kingly office became by
degrees strictly hereditary. All had nobles bearing titles which
had originally indicated military rank. The dignity of
knighthood, the rules of heraldry, were common to all. All had
richly endowed ecclesiastical establishments, municipal
corporations enjoying large franchises, and senates whose consent
was necessary to the validity of some public acts.
Of these kindred constitutions the English was, from an early
period, justly reputed the best. The prerogatives of the
sovereign were undoubtedly extensive. The spirit of religion and
the spirit of chivalry concurred to exalt his dignity. The sacred
oil had been poured on his head. It was no disparagement to the
bravest and noblest knights to kneel at his feet. His person was
inviolable. He alone was entitled to convoke the Estates of the
realm: he could at his pleasure dismiss them; and his assent was
necessary to all their legislative acts. He was the chief of the
executive administration, the sole organ of communication with
foreign powers, the captain of the military and naval forces of
the state, the fountain of justice, of mercy, and of honour. He
had large powers for the regulation of trade. It was by him that
money was coined, that weights and measures were fixed, that
marts and havens were appointed. His ecclesiastical patronage was
immense. His hereditary revenues, economically administered,
sufficed to meet the ordinary charges of government. His own
domains were of vast extent. He was also feudal lord paramount of
the whole soil of his kingdom, and, in that capacity, possessed
many lucrative and many formidable rights, which enabled him to
annoy and depress those who thwarted him, and to enrich and
aggrandise, without any cost to himself, those who enjoyed his
favour.
But his power, though ample, was limited by three great
constitutional principles, so ancient that none can say when they
began to exist, so potent that their natural development,
continued through many generations, has produced the order of
things under which we now live.
First, the King could not legislate without the consent of his
Parliament. Secondly, he could impose no tax without the consent
of his Parliament. Thirdly, he was bound to conduct the executive
administration according to the laws of the land, and, if he
broke those laws, his advisers and his agents were responsible.
No candid
Free e-book «The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1 - Thomas Babington Macaulay (novel books to read TXT) 📗» - read online now
Similar e-books:
Comments (0)