The act of settlement was the seal of our constitutional laws,
the complement of the revolution itself and the bill of rights,
the last great statute which restrains the power of the Crown,
and manifests, in any conspicuous degree, a jealousy of parliament
in behalf of its own and the subject's privileges. The
battle had been fought and gained; the statute-book, as it
becomes more voluminous, is less interesting in the history of
our constitution; the voice of petition, complaint, or remonstrance
is seldom to be traced in the Journals; the Crown in
return desists altogether, not merely from the threatening or
objurgatory tone of the Stuarts, but from that dissatisfaction
sometimes apparent in the language of William; and the vessel
seems riding in smooth water, moved by other impulses, and
liable perhaps to other dangers, than those of the ocean-wave
and the tempest. The reigns, accordingly, of Anne, George I.,
and George II., afford rather materials for dissertation, than
consecutive facts for such a work as the present; and may be
sketched in a single chapter, though by no means the least
important, which the reader's study and reflection must enable
him to fill up. Changes of an essential nature were in operation
during the sixty years of these three reigns, as well as in that
beyond the limits of this undertaking, which in length measures
them all; some of them greatly enhancing the authority of the
Crown, or rather of the executive government, while others had
so opposite a tendency, that philosophical speculators have not
been uniform in determining on which side was the sway of the
balance.
Distinctive principles of whigs and tories.—No clear understanding
can be acquired of the political history of England
without distinguishing, with some accuracy of definition, the
two great parties of whig and tory. But this is not easy;
because those denominations being sometimes applied to
factions in the state, intent on their own aggrandisement, sometimes
to the principles they entertained or professed, have
become equivocal, and do by no means, at all periods and on all
occasions, present the same sense; an ambiguity which has been
increased by the lax and incorrect use of familiar language. We
may consider the words, in the first instance, as expressive of
a political theory or principle, applicable to the English government.
They were originally employed at the time of the bill
of exclusion, though the distinction of the parties they denote
is evidently at least as old as the long parliament. Both of these
parties, it is material to observe, agreed in the maintenance of
the constitution; that is, in the administration of government
by an hereditary sovereign, and in the concurrence of that
sovereign with the two houses of parliament in legislation, as
well as in those other institutions which have been reckoned
most ancient and fundamental. A favourer of unlimited
monarchy was not a tory, neither was a republican a whig.
Lord Clarendon was a tory, Hobbes was not; Bishop Hoadley
was a whig, Milton was not. But they differed mainly in this;
that to a tory the constitution, inasmuch as it was the constitution,
was an ultimate point, beyond which he never looked,
and from which he thought it altogether impossible to swerve;
whereas the whig deemed all forms of government subordinate
to the public good, and therefore liable to change when they
should cease to promote that object. Within those bounds
which he, as well as his antagonist, meant not to transgress,
and rejecting all unnecessary innovation, the whig had a natural
tendency to political improvement, the tory an aversion to it.
The one loved to descant on liberty and the rights of mankind,
the other on the mischiefs of sedition and the rights of kings.
Though both, as I have said, admitted a common principle,
the maintenance of the constitution, yet this made the privileges
of the subject, that the Crown's prerogative, his peculiar care.
Hence it seemed likely that, through passion and circumstance,
the tory might aid in establishing despotism, or the whig in
subverting monarchy. The former was generally hostile to the
liberty of the press, and to freedom of enquiry, especially in
religion; the latter their friend. The principle of the one, in
short, was melioration; of the other, conservation.
But the distinctive characters of whig and tory were less
plainly seen, after the revolution and act of settlement, in
relation to the Crown, than to some other parts of our polity.
The tory was ardently, and in the first place, the supporter of
the church in as much pre-eminence and power as he could give
it. For the church's sake, when both seemed as it were on one
plank, he sacrificed his loyalty; for her he was always ready
to persecute the catholic, and if the times permitted not to
persecute, yet to restrain and discountenance, the nonconformist.
He came unwillingly into the toleration, which the
whig held up as one of the great trophies of the revolution. The
whig spurned at the haughty language of the church, and treated
the dissenters with moderation, or perhaps with favour. This
distinction subsisted long after the two parties had shifted their
ground as to civil liberty and royal power. Again; a predilection
for the territorial aristocracy, and for a government
chiefly conducted by their influence, a jealousy of new men,
of the mercantile interest, of the commonalty, never failed to
mark the genuine tory. It has been common to speak of the
whigs as an aristocratical faction. Doubtless the majority of
the peerage from the revolution downwards to the death of
George II. were of that denomination. But this is merely
an instance wherein the party and the principle are to be distinguished.
The natural bias of the aristocracy is towards the
Crown; but, except in most part of the reign of Anne, the Crown
might be reckoned with the whig party. No one who reflects
on the motives which are likely to influence the judgment of
classes in society, would hesitate to predict that an English
House of Lords would contain a larger proportion of men
inclined to the tory principle than of the opposite school; and
we do not find that experience contradicts this anticipation.
It will be obvious that I have given to each of these political
principles a moral character; and have considered them as they
would subsist in upright and conscientious men, not as we may
find them "in the dregs of Romulus," suffocated by selfishness
or distorted by faction. The whigs appear to have taken a far
more comprehensive view of the nature and ends of civil society;
their principle is more virtuous, more flexible to the variations
of time and circumstance, more congenial to large and masculine
intellects. But it may probably be no small advantage that the
two parties, or rather the sentiments which have been presumed
to actuate them, should have been mingled, as we find them, in
the complex mass of the English nation, whether the proportions
may or not have been always such as we might desire. They
bear some analogy to the two forces which retain the planetary
bodies in their orbits; the annihilation of one would disperse
them into chaos, that of the other would drag them to a centre.
And, though I cannot reckon these old appellations by any
means characteristic of our political factions in the nineteenth
century, the names whig and tory are often well applied to
individuals. Nor can it be otherwise; since they are founded
not only on our laws and history, with which most have some
acquaintance, but in the diversities of condition and of moral
temperament generally subsisting among mankind.
It is, however, one thing to prefer the whig principle, another
to justify, as an advocate, the party which bore that name. So
far as they were guided by that principle, I hold them far more
friendly to the great interests of the commonwealth than their
adversaries. But, in truth, the peculiar circumstances of these
four reigns after the revolution, the spirit of faction, prejudice,
and animosity, above all, the desire of obtaining or retaining
power, which, if it be ever sought as a means, is soon converted
into an end, threw both parties very often into a false position,
and gave to each the language and sentiments of the other; so
that the two principles are rather to be traced in writings, and
those not wholly of a temporary nature, than in the debates of
parliament. In the reigns of William and Anne, the whigs,
speaking of them generally as a great party, had preserved their
original character unimpaired far more than their opponents.
All that had passed in the former reign served to humble the
tories, and to enfeeble their principle. The revolution itself, and
the votes upon which it was founded, the bill of recognition in
1690, the repeal of the non-resisting test, the act of settlement,
the oath of abjuration, were solemn adjudications, as it were,
against their creed. They took away the old argument, that
the letter of the law was on their side. If this indeed were all
usurpation, the answer was ready; but those who did not care
to make it, or by their submission put it out of their power, were
compelled to sacrifice not a little of that which had entered into
the definition of a tory. Yet even this had not a greater effect
than that systematic jealousy and dislike of the administration,
which made them encroach, according to ancient notions, and
certainly their own, on the prerogative of William. They
learned in this no unpleasing lesson to popular assemblies, to
magnify their own privileges and the rights of the people. This
tone was often assumed by the friends of the exiled family, and
in them it was without any dereliction of their object. It was
natural that a jacobite should use popular topics in order to
thwart and subvert an usurping government. His faith was
to the crown, but to the crown on a right head. In a tory who
voluntarily submitted to the reigning prince, such an opposition
to the prerogative was repugnant to the maxims of his creed,
and placed him, as I have said, in a false position. This is of
course applicable to the reigns of George I. and II., and in a
greater degree in proportion as the tory and jacobite were more
separated than they had been perhaps under William.
The tories gave a striking proof how far they might be brought
to abandon their theories, in supporting an address to the
queen that she would invite the Princess Sophia to take up her
residence in England; a measure so unnatural as well as imprudent
that some have ascribed it to a subtlety of politics
which I do not comprehend. But we need not, perhaps, look
farther than to the blind rage of a party just discarded, who,
out of pique towards their sovereign, made her more irreconcilably
their enemy, and while they hoped to brand their
opponents with inconsistency, forgot that the imputation would
redound with tenfold force on themselves. The whigs justly
resisted a proposal so little called for at that time; but it led
to an act for the security of the succession, designating a regency
in the event of the queen's decease, and providing that the actual
parliament, or the last, if none were in being, should meet
immediately, and continue for six months, unless dissolved by
the successor.[294]
In the conduct of this party, generally speaking, we do not,
I think, find any abandonment of the cause of liberty. The
whigs appear to have been zealous for bills excluding placemen
from the house, or limiting their numbers in it; and the abolition
of the Scots privy council, an odious and despotic tribunal, was
owing in a great measure to the authority of Lord Somers.[295]
In these measures however the tories generally co-operated,
and it is certainly difficult in the history of any nation, to
separate the influence of sincere patriotism from that of
animosity and thirst of power. But one memorable event in
the reign of Anne gave an opportunity for bringing the two
theories of government into collision, to the signal advantage
of that which the Whigs professed; I mean, the impeachment
of Dr. Sacheverell. Though with a view to the interests of
their ministry, this prosecution was very unadvised, and has
been deservedly censured, it was of high importance in a constitutional
light, and is not only the most authentic exposition,
but the most authoritative ratification, of the principles upon
which the revolution is to be defended.[296]
The charge against Sacheverell was, not for impugning what
was done at the revolution, which he affected to vindicate, but
for maintaining that it was not a case of resistance to the supreme
power, and consequently no exception to his tenet of an unlimited
passive obedience. The managers of the impeachment
had therefore not only to prove that there was resistance in the
revolution, which could not of course be sincerely disputed, but
to assert the lawfulness, in great emergencies, or what is called
in politics necessity, of taking arms against the law—a delicate
matter to treat of at any time, and not least so by ministers of
state and law officers of the Crown, in the very presence, as they
knew, of their sovereign.[297]
We cannot praise too highly their
speeches upon this charge; some shades, rather of discretion
than discordance, may be perceptible; and we may distinguish
the warmth of Lechmere, or the openness of Stanhope, from
the caution of Walpole, who betrays more anxiety than his
colleagues to give no offence in the highest quarter; but in every
one the same fundamental principles of the whig creed, except
on which indeed the impeachment could not rest, are unambiguously
proclaimed. "Since we must give up our right
to the laws and liberties of this kingdom," says Sir Joseph Jekyll,
"or, which is all one, be precarious in the enjoyment of them,
and hold them only during pleasure, if this doctrine of unlimited
non-resistance prevails, the Commons have been content to
undertake this prosecution."[298]
—"The doctrine of unlimited,
unconditional, passive obedience," says Mr. Walpole, "was first
invented to support arbitrary and despotic power, and was never
promoted or countenanced by any government that had not
designs some time or other of making use of it."[299]
And thus
General Stanhope still more vigorously: "As to the doctrine
itself of absolute non-resistance, it should seem needless to
prove by arguments that it is inconsistent with the law of reason,
with the law of nature, and with the practice of all ages and
countries. Nor is it very material what the opinions of some
particular divines, or even the doctrine generally preached in
some particular reigns, may have been concerning it. It is
sufficient for us to know what the practice of the church of
England has been, when it found itself oppressed. And indeed
one may appeal to the practice of all churches, of all states, and
of all nations in the world, how they behaved themselves when
they found their civil and religious constitutions invaded and
oppressed by tyranny. I believe we may further venture to say,
that there is not at this day subsisting any nation or government
in the world, whose first original did not receive its
foundation either from resistance or compact; and as to our
purpose, it is equal if the latter be admitted. For wherever
compact is admitted, there must be admitted likewise a right
to defend the rights accruing by such compact. To argue the
municipal laws of a country in this case is idle. Those laws
were only made for the common course of things, and can never
be understood to have been designed to defeat the end of all
laws whatsoever; which would be the consequence of a nation's
tamely submitting to a violation of all their divine and human
rights."[300]
Mr. Lechmere argues to the same purpose in yet
stronger terms.[301]
But, if these managers for the commons were explicit in their
assertion of the whig principle, the counsel for Sacheverell by no
means unfurled the opposite banner with equal courage. In
this was chiefly manifested the success of the former. His
advocates had recourse to the petty chicane of arguing that he
had laid down a general rule of obedience without mentioning its
exceptions, that the revolution was a case of necessity, and that
they fully approved what was done therein. They set up a
distinction, which, though at that time perhaps novel, has
sometimes since been adopted by tory writers; that resistance
to the supreme power was indeed utterly illegal on any pretence
whatever, but that the supreme power in this kingdom was the
legislature, not the king; and that the revolution took effect
by the concurrence of the Lords and Commons.[302]
This is of
itself a descent from the high ground of toryism, and would not
have been held by the sincere bigots of that creed. Though
specious, however, the argument is a sophism, and does not meet
the case of the revolution. For, though the supreme power
may be said to reside in the legislature, yet the prerogative
within its due limits is just as much part of the constitution,
and the question of resistance to lawful authority remains as
before. Even if this resistance had been made by the two
houses of parliament, it was but the case of the civil war, which
had been explicitly condemned by more than one statute of
Charles II. But, as Mr. Lechmere said in reply, it was undeniable
that the Lords and Commons did not join in that
resistance at the revolution as part of the legislative and supreme
power, but as part of the collective body of the nation.[303]
And
Sir John Holland had before observed, "that there was a resistance
at the revolution was most plain, if taking up arms in
Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, Cheshire, and almost all the
counties of England; if the desertion of a prince's own troops to
an invading prince, and turning their arms against their sovereign,
be resistance."[304]
It might in fact have been asked
whether the Dukes of Leeds and Shrewsbury, then sitting in
judgment on Sacheverell (and who afterwards voted him not
guilty) might not have been convicted of treason, if the Prince
of Orange had failed of success?[305]
The advocates indeed of the
prisoner made so many concessions as amounted to an abandonment
of all the general question. They relied chiefly on
numerous passages in the homilies, and most approved writers
of the Anglican church, asserting the duty of unbounded passive
obedience. But the managers eluded these in their reply with
decent respect.[306]
The Lords voted Sacheverell guilty by a
majority of 67 to 59; several voting on each side rather according
to their present faction than their own principles. They
passed a slight sentence, interdicting him only from preaching
for three years. This was deemed a sort of triumph by his
adherents; but a severe punishment on a wretch so insignificant
would have been misplaced; and the sentence may be compared
to the nominal damages sometimes given in a suit instituted for
the trial of a great right.
Revolution in the ministry under Anne.—The shifting combinations
of party in the reign of Anne, which affected the
original distinctions of whig and tory, though generally known,
must be shortly noticed. The queen, whose understanding and
fitness for government were below mediocrity, had been attached
to the tories, and bore an antipathy to her predecessor. Her
first ministry, her first parliament, gave presage of a government
to be wholly conducted by that party. But this prejudice was
counteracted by the persuasions of that celebrated favourite,
the wife of Marlborough, who, probably from some personal
resentments, had thrown her influence into the scale of the
whigs. The well known records of their conversation and
correspondence present a strange picture of good-natured feebleness
on one side, and of ungrateful insolence on the other. But
the interior of a court will rarely endure daylight. Though
Godolphin and Marlborough, in whom the queen reposed her
entire confidence, had been thought tories, they became gradually
alienated from that party, and communicated their own
feelings to the queen. The House of Commons very reasonably
declined to make an hereditary grant to the latter out of the
revenues of the post-office in 1702, when he had performed
no extraordinary services; though they acceded to it without
hesitation after the battle of Blenheim.[307]
This gave some offence
to Anne; and the chief tory leaders in the cabinet, Rochester,
Nottingham, and Buckingham, displaying a reluctance to carry
on the war with such vigour as Marlborough knew to be necessary,
were soon removed from office. Their revengeful attack
on the queen, in the address to invite the Princess Sophia, made
a return to power hopeless for several years. Anne however
entertained a desire very natural to an English sovereign, yet in
which none but a weak one will expect to succeed, of excluding
chiefs of parties from her councils. Disgusted with the
tories, she was loth to admit the whigs; and thus Godolphin's
administration, from 1704 to 1708, was rather suddenly supported,
sometimes indeed thwarted, by that party. Cowper
was made chancellor against the queen's wishes;[308]
but the
junto, as it was called, of five eminent whig peers, Somers,
Halifax, Wharton, Orford, and Sunderland, were kept out
through the queen's dislike, and in some measure, no question,
through Godolphin's jealousy. They forced themselves into
the cabinet about 1708; and effected the dismissal of Harley
and St. John, who, though not of the regular tory school in
connection or principle, had already gone along with that faction
in the late reign, and were now reduced by their dismissal to
unite with it.[309]
The whig ministry of Queen Anne, so often
talked of, cannot in fact be said to have existed more than two
years, from 1708 to 1710; her previous administration having
been at first tory, and afterwards of a motley complexion,
though depending for existence on the great whig interest which
it in some degree proscribed. Every one knows that this
ministry was precipitated from power through the favourite's
abuse of her ascendancy, become at length intolerable to the
most forbearing of queens and mistresses, conspiring with
another intrigue of the bedchamber, and the popular clamour
against Sacheverell's impeachment. It seems rather an humiliating
proof of the sway which the feeblest prince enjoys even in a
limited monarchy, that the fortunes of Europe should have been
changed by nothing more noble than the insolence of one
waiting-woman and the cunning of another. It is true that this
was effected by throwing the weight of the Crown into the
scale of a powerful faction; yet the house of Bourbon would
probably not have reigned beyond the Pyrenees, but for Sarah
and Abigail at Queen Anne's toilet.
War of the succession.—The object of the war, as it is
commonly called, of the Grand Alliance, commenced in 1702,
was, as expressed in an address of the House of Commons, for
preserving the liberties of Europe and reducing the exorbitant
power of France.[310]
The occupation of the Spanish dominions
by the Duke of Anjou, on the authority of the late king's will,
was assigned as its justification, together with the acknowledgment
of the pretended Prince of Wales as successor to his father
James. Charles, Archduke of Austria, was recognised as King
of Spain; and as early as 1705 the restoration of that monarchy
to his house is declared in a speech from the throne to be not
only safe and advantageous, but glorious to England.[311]
Louis
XIV. had perhaps at no time much hope of retaining for his
grandson the whole inheritance he claimed; and on several
occasions made overtures for negotiation, but such as indicated
his design of rather sacrificing the detached possessions of Italy
and the Netherlands than Spain itself and the Indies.[312]
After
the battle of Oudenarde, however, and the loss of Lille in the
campaign of 1708, the exhausted state of France and discouragement
of his court induced him to acquiesce in the cession of the
Spanish monarchy as a basis of treaty. In the conferences of
the Hague in 1709, he struggled for a time to preserve Naples and
Sicily; but ultimately admitted the terms imposed by the allies,
with the exception of the famous thirty-seventh article of the
preliminaries, binding him to procure by force or persuasion the
resignation of the Spanish crown by his grandson within two
months. This proposition he declared to be both dishonourable
and impracticable; and, the allies refusing to give way, the
negotiation was broken off. It was renewed the next year
at Gertruydenburg; but the same obstacle still proved insurmountable.[313]
It has been the prevailing opinion in modern times that the
English ministry, rather against the judgment of their allies of
Holland, insisted upon a condition not indispensable to their
security, and too ignominious for their fallen enemy to accept.
Some may perhaps incline to think that, even had Philip of
Anjou been suffered to reign in Naples, a possession rather
honourable than important, the balance of power would not
have been seriously affected, and the probability of durable
peace been increased. This, however, it was not necessary to
discuss. The main question is as to the power which the allies
possessed of securing the Spanish monarchy for the archduke,
if they had consented to waive the thirty-seventh article of the
preliminaries. If indeed they could have been considered as a
single potentate, it was doubtless possible, by means of keeping
up great armies on the frontier, and by the delivery of cautionary
towns, to have prevented the King of France from lending
assistance to his grandson. But, self-interested and disunited
as confederacies generally are, and as the grand alliance had
long since become, this appeared a very dangerous course of
policy, if Louis should be playing an underhand game against
his engagements. And this it was not then unreasonable to
suspect, even if we should believe, in despite of some plausible
authorities, that he was really sincere in abandoning so favourite
an interest. The obstinate adherence of Godolphin and Somers
to the preliminaries may possibly have been erroneous; but it
by no means deserves the reproach that has been unfairly
bestowed on it; nor can the whigs be justly charged with protracting
the war to enrich Marlborough, or to secure themselves
in power.[314]
Treaty of peace broken off.—The conferences at Gertruydenburg
were broken off in July 1710, because an absolute security
for the evacuation of Spain by Philip appeared to be wanting;
and within six months a fresh negotiation was secretly on foot,
the basis of which was his retention of that kingdom. For the
administration presided over by Godolphin had fallen meanwhile;
new counsellors, a new parliament, new principles of
government. The tories had from the beginning come very
reluctantly into the schemes of the grand alliance; though no
opposition to the war had ever been shown in parliament, it
was very soon perceived that the majority of that denomination
had their hearts bent on peace.[315]
But instead of renewing the
negotiation in concert with the allies (which indeed might have
been impracticable), the new ministers fell upon the course of
a clandestine arrangement, in exclusion of all the other powers,
which led to the signature of preliminaries in September 1711,
and afterwards to the public congress of Utrecht, and the
celebrated treaty named from that town. Its chief provisions
are too well known to be repeated.
Arguments for and against the treaty of Utrecht.—The arguments
in favour of a treaty of pacification, which should abandon
the great point of contest, and leave Philip in possession of Spain
and America, were neither few nor inconsiderable. 1. The
kingdom had been impoverished by twenty years of uninterruptedly
augmented taxation; the annual burthens being triple
in amount of those paid before the revolution. Yet, amidst
these sacrifices, we had the mortification of finding a debt rapidly
increasing, whereof the mere interest far exceeded the ancient
revenues of the Crown, to be bequeathed, like an hereditary
curse, to unborn ages. Though the supplies had been raised
with less difficulty than in the late reign, and the condition of
trade was less unsatisfactory, the landed proprietors saw with
indignation the silent transfer of their wealth to new men, and
hated the glory that was bought by their own degradation. Was
it not to be feared that they might hate also the revolution, and
the protestant succession that depended on it, when they tasted
these fruits it had borne? Even the army had been recruited
by violent means unknown to our constitution, yet such as the
continual loss of men, with a population at the best stationary,
had perhaps rendered necessary.[316]
2. The prospect of reducing Spain to the archduke's obedience
was grown unfavourable. It was at best an odious work, and
not very defensible on any maxims of national justice, to impose
a sovereign on a great people in despite of their own repugnance,
and what they deemed their loyal obligation. Heaven itself
might shield their righteous cause, and baffle the selfish rapacity
of human politics. But what was the state of the war at the
close of 1710? The surrender of 7000 English under Stanhope at
Brihuega had ruined the affairs of Charles, which in fact had at
no time been truly prosperous, and confined him to the single
province sincerely attached to him, Catalonia. As it was
certain that Philip had spirit enough to continue the war, even
if abandoned by his grandfather, and would have the support of
almost the entire nation, what remained but to carry on a very
doubtful contest for the subjugation of that extensive kingdom?
In Flanders, no doubt, the genius of Marlborough kept still
the ascendant; yet France had her Fabius in Villars; and the
capture of three or four small fortresses in a whole campaign did
not presage a rapid destruction of the enemy's power.
3. It was acknowledged that the near connection of the
monarchs on the thrones of France and Spain could not be
desired from Europe. Yet the experience of ages had shown
how little such ties of blood determined the policy of courts;
a Bourbon on the throne of Spain could not but assert the
honour, and even imbibe the prejudices, of his subjects; and
as the two nations were in all things opposite, and must clash
in their public interests, there was little reason to fear a subserviency
in the cabinet of Madrid, which, even in that absolute
monarchy, could not be displayed against the general sentiment.
4. The death of the Emperor Joseph, and election of the
Archduke Charles in his room, which took place in the spring of
1711, changed in no small degree the circumstances of Europe.
It was now a struggle to unite the Spanish and Austrian
monarchies under one head. Even if England might have little
interest to prevent this, could it be indifferent to the smaller
states of Europe that a family not less ambitious and encroaching
than that of Bourbon should be so enormously aggrandised?
France had long been to us the only source of apprehension;
but to some states, to Savoy, to Switzerland, to Venice, to the
principalities of the empire, she might justly appear a very
necessary bulwark against the aggressions of Austria. The
alliance could not be expected to continue faithful and unanimous,
after so important an alteration in the balance of power.
5. The advocates of peace and adherents of the new ministry
stimulated the national passions of England by vehement reproaches
of the allies. They had thrown, it was contended, in
despite of all treaties, an unreasonable proportion of expense
upon a country not directly concerned in their quarrel, and
rendered a negligent or criminal administration their dupes or
accomplices. We were exhausting our blood and treasure to
gain kingdoms for the house of Austria which insulted, and the
best towns of Flanders for the states-general who cheated us.
The barrier treaty of Lord Townshend was so extravagant, that
one might wonder at the presumption of Holland in suggesting
its articles, much more at the folly of our government in acceding
to them. It laid the foundation of endless dissatisfaction
on the side of Austria, thus reduced to act as the vassal of a
little republic in her own territories, and to keep up fortresses
at her own expense, which others were to occupy. It might be
anticipated that, at some time, a sovereign of that house would
be found more sensible to ignominy than to danger, who would
remove this badge of humiliation by dismantling the fortifications
which were thus to be defended. Whatever exaggeration
might be in these clamours, they were sure to pass for undeniable
truths with a people jealous of foreigners, and prone to believe
itself imposed upon, from a consciousness of general ignorance
and credulity.
These arguments were met by answers not less confident,
though less successful at the moment, than they had been
deemed convincing by the majority of politicians in later ages.
It was denied that the resources of the kingdom were so much
enfeebled; the supplies were still raised without difficulty;
commerce had not declined; public credit stood high under the
Godolphin ministry; and it was especially remarkable that the
change of administration, notwithstanding the prospect of peace,
was attended by a great fall in the price of stocks. France, on
the other hand, was notoriously reduced to the utmost distress;
and, though it were absurd to allege the misfortunes of our
enemy by way of consolation for our own, yet the more exhausted
of the two combatants was naturally that which ought to yield;
and it was not for the honour of our free government that we
should be outdone in magnanimous endurance for the sake of
the great interests of ourselves and our posterity by the
despotism we so boastfully scorned.[317]
The King of France had
now for half a century been pursuing a system of encroachment
on the neighbouring states, which the weakness of the two
branches of the Austrian house, and the perfidiousness of the
Stuarts, not less than the valour of his troops and skill of his
generals, had long rendered successful. The tide had turned
for the first time in the present war; victories more splendid
than were recorded in modern warfare had illustrated the
English name. Were we spontaneously to relinquish these
great advantages, and two years after Louis had himself consented
to withdraw his forces from Spain, our own arms having
been in the meantime still successful on the most important
scene of the contest, to throw up the game in despair, and leave
him far more the gainer at the termination of this calamitous
war, than he had been after those triumphant campaigns which
his vaunting medals commemorate? Spain of herself could
not resist the confederates, even if united in support of Philip;
which was denied as to the provinces composing the kingdom of
Arragon, and certainly as to Catalonia; it was in Flanders that
Castile was to be conquered; it was France that we were to
overcome; and now that her iron barrier had been broken
through, when Marlborough was preparing to pour his troops
upon the defenceless plains of Picardy, could we doubt that
Louis must in good earnest abandon the cause of his grandson,
as he had already pledged himself in the conferences of
Gertruydenburg?
2. It was easy to slight the influence which the ties of blood
exert over kings. Doubtless they are often torn asunder by
ambition or wounded pride. But it does not follow that they
have no efficacy; and the practice of courts in cementing
alliances by intermarriage seems to show that they are not
reckoned indifferent. It might, however, be admitted that a
king of Spain, such as she had been a hundred years before,
would probably be led by the tendency of his ambition into a
course of policy hostile to France. But that monarchy had
long been declining; great rather in name and extent of
dominion than intrinsic resources, she might perhaps rally for a
short period under an enterprising minister; but with such
inveterate abuses of government, and so little progressive
energy among the people, she must gradually sink lower in the
scale of Europe, till it might become the chief pride of her
sovereigns that they were the younger branches of the house
of Bourbon. To cherish this connection would be the policy of
the court of Versailles; there would result from it a dependent
relation, an habitual subserviency of the weaker power, a family
compact of perpetual union, always opposed to Great Britain.
In distant ages, and after fresh combinations of the European
commonwealth should have seemed almost to efface the recollection
of Louis XIV. and the war of the succession, the Bourbons
on the French throne might still claim a sort of primogenitary
right to protect the dignity of the junior branch by interference
with the affairs of Spain; and a late posterity of those who
witnessed the peace of Utrecht might be entangled by its improvident
concessions.
3. That the accession of Charles to the empire rendered his
possession of the Spanish monarchy in some degree less desirable,
need not be disputed; though it would not be easy to prove that
it could endanger England, or even the smaller states, since it
was agreed on all hands that he was to be master of Milan
and Naples. But against this, perhaps imaginary, mischief the
opponents of the treaty set the risk of seeing the crowns of
France and Spain united on the head of Philip. In the years
1711 and 1712 the dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, and the
Duke of Berry, were swept away. An infant stood alone between
the King of Spain and the French succession. The latter was
induced, with some unwillingness, to sign a renunciation of this
contingent inheritance. But it was notoriously the doctrine of
the French court that such renunciations were invalid; and the
sufferings of Europe were chiefly due to this tenet of indefeasible
royalty. It was very possible that Spain would never consent
to this union, and that a fresh league of the great powers might
be formed to prevent it; but, if we had the means of permanently
separating the two kingdoms in our hands, it was strange policy
to leave open this door for a renewal of the quarrel.
But whatever judgment we may be disposed to form as to
the political necessity of leaving Spain and America in the
possession of Philip, it is impossible to justify the course of that
negotiation which ended in the peace of Utrecht. It was at
best a dangerous and inauspicious concession, demanding every
compensation that could be devised, and which the circumstances
of the war entitled us to require. France was still our formidable
enemy; the ambition of Louis was still to be dreaded, his
intrigues to be suspected. That an English minister should
have thrown himself into the arms of this enemy at the first
overture of negotiation; that he should have renounced advantages
upon which he might have insisted; that he should
have restored Lille, and almost attempted to procure the
sacrifice of Tournay; that throughout the whole correspondence
and in all personal interviews with Torcy he should have shown
the triumphant Queen of Great Britain more eager for peace
than her vanquished adversary; that the two courts should have
been virtually conspiring against those allies, without whom we
had bound ourselves to enter on no treaty; that we should have
withdrawn our troops in the midst of a campaign, and even
seized upon the towns of our confederates while we left them
exposed to be overcome by a superior force; that we should have
first deceived those confederates by the most direct falsehood
in denying our clandestine treaty, and then dictated to them its
acceptance, are facts so disgraceful to Bolingbroke, and in somewhat
a less degree to Oxford, that they can hardly be palliated
by establishing the expediency of the treaty itself.
Intrigues of the Jacobites.—For several years after the treaty of
Ryswick the intrigues of ambitious and discontented statesmen,
and of a misled faction in favour of the exiled family, grew
much colder; the old age of James and the infancy of his son
being alike incompatible with their success. The jacobites
yielded a sort of provisional allegiance to the daughter of their
king, deeming her, as it were, a regent in the heir's minority, and
willing to defer the consideration of his claim till he should be
competent to make it, or to acquiesce in her continuance upon
the throne, if she could be induced to secure his reversion.[318]
Meanwhile, under the name of tories and high-church men, they
carried on a more dangerous war by sapping the bulwarks of
the revolution settlement. The disaffected clergy poured forth
sermons and libels, to impugn the principles of the whigs or
traduce their characters. Twice a year especially, on the 30th
of January and 29th of May, they took care that every stroke
upon rebellion and usurpation should tell against the expulsion
of the Stuarts and the Hanover succession. They inveighed
against the dissenters and the toleration. They set up pretences
of loyalty towards the queen, descanting sometimes on her
hereditary right, in order to throw a slur on the settlement.
They drew a transparent veil over their designs, which might
screen them from prosecution, but could not impose, nor was
meant to impose, on the reader. Among these the most distinguished
was Leslie, author of a periodical sheet called the
Rehearsal, printed weekly from 1704 to 1708; and as he, though
a non-juror, and unquestionable jacobite, held only the same
language as Sacheverell, and others who affected obedience to
the government, we cannot much be deceived in assuming that
their views were entirely the same.[319]
The court of St. Germains, in the first years of the queen,
preserved a secret connection with Godolphin and Marlborough,
though justly distrustful of their sincerity; nor is it by any
means clear that they made any strong professions.[320]
Their
evident determination to reduce the power of France, their
approximation towards the whigs, the averseness of the duchess
to jacobite principles, taught at length that unfortunate court
how little it had to expect from such ancient friends. The
Scotch jacobites, on the other hand, were eager for the young
king's immediate restoration; and their assurances finally
produced his unsuccessful expedition to the coast in 1708.[321]
This alarmed the queen, who at least had no thoughts of giving
up any part of her dominions, and probably exasperated the
two ministers.[322]
Though Godolphin's partiality to the Stuart
cause was always suspected, the proofs of his intercourse with
their emissaries are not so strong as against Marlborough; who,
so late as 1711, declared himself more positively than he seems
hitherto to have done in favour of their restoration.[323]
But the
extreme selfishness and treachery of his character makes it
difficult to believe that he had any further view than to secure
himself in the event of a revolution which he judged probable.
His interest, which was always his deity, did not lie in that
direction; and his great sagacity must have perceived it.
Just alarm for the Hanover succession.—A more promising
overture had by this time been made to the young claimant
from an opposite quarter. Mr. Harley, about the end of 1710,
sent the Abbé Gaultier to Marshal Berwick (natural son of
James II. by Marlborough's sister), with authority to treat
about the restoration; Anne of course retaining the Crown for
her life, and securities being given for the national religion and
liberties. The conclusion of peace was a necessary condition.
The jacobites in the English parliament were directed in consequence
to fall in with the court, which rendered it decidedly
superior. Harley promised to send over in the next year a plan
for carrying that design into effect. But neither at that time,
nor during the remainder of the queen's life, did this dissembling
minister take any further measures, though still in strict connection
with that party at home, and with the court of St.
Germains.[324]
It was necessary, he said, to proceed gently, to
make the army their own, to avoid suspicions which would be
fatal. It was manifest that the course of his administration
was wholly inconsistent with his professions; the friends of the
house of Stuart felt that he betrayed, though he did not delude
them; but it was the misfortune of this minister, or rather the
just and natural reward of crooked counsels, that those he meant
to serve could neither believe in his friendship, nor forgive his
appearances of enmity. It is doubtless not easy to pronounce
on the real intentions of men so destitute of sincerity as Harley
and Marlborough; but, in believing the former favourable to
the protestant succession, which he had so eminently contributed
to establish, we accede to the judgment of those contemporaries
who were best able to form one, and especially of the
very jacobites with whom he tampered. And this is so powerfully
confirmed by most of his public measures, his averseness
to the high tories, and their consequent hatred of him, his
irreconcilable disagreement with those of his colleagues who
looked most to St. Germains, his frequent attempts to renew a
connection with the whigs, his contempt of the jacobite creed
of government, and the little prospect he could have had of
retaining power on such a revolution, that, so far at least as
may be presumed from what has hitherto become public,
there seems no reason for counting the Earl of Oxford among
those from whom the house of Hanover had any enmity to
apprehend.[325]
The pretender, meanwhile, had friends in the tory government
more sincere probably and zealous than Oxford. In the
year 1712 Lord Bolingbroke, the Duke of Buckingham, president
of the council, and the Duke of Ormond, were engaged in this
connection.[326]
The last of these, being in the command of the
army, little glory as that brought him, might become an important
auxiliary. Harcourt, the chancellor, though the proofs
are not, I believe, so direct, has always been reckoned in the
same interest. Several of the leading Scots peers, with little
disguise, avowed their adherence to it; especially the Duke of
Hamilton, who, luckily perhaps for the kingdom, lost his life
in a duel, at the moment when he was setting out on an embassy
to France. The rage expressed by that faction at his death
betrays the hopes they had entertained from him. A strong
phalanx of tory members, called the October Club, though by
no means entirely jacobite, were chiefly influenced by those who
were such. In the new parliament of 1713, the queen's precarious
health excited the Stuart partisans to press forward
with more zeal. The masque was more than half drawn aside;
and, vainly urging the ministry to fulfil their promises while yet
in time, they cursed the insidious cunning of Harley and the
selfish cowardice of the queen. Upon her they had for some
years relied. Lady Masham, the bosom favourite, was entirely
theirs; and every word, every look of the sovereign, had been
anxiously observed, in the hope of some indication that she
would take the road which affection and conscience, as they
fondly argued, must dictate. But, whatever may have been the
sentiments of Anne, her secret was never divulged, nor is there,
as I apprehend, however positively the contrary is sometimes
asserted, any decisive evidence whence we may infer that she
even intended her brother's restoration.[327]
The weakest of mankind
have generally an instinct of self-preservation which leads
them right, and perhaps more than stronger minds possess; and
Anne could scarcely help perceiving that her own deposition
from the throne would be the natural consequence of once
admitting the reversionary right of one whose claim was equally
good to the possession. The assertors of hereditary descent
could acquiesce in her usurpation no longer than they found it
necessary for their object; if her life should be protracted to an
ordinary duration, it was almost certain that Scotland first, and
afterwards England, would be wrested from her impotent grasp.
Yet, though I believe the queen to have been sensible of this, it
is impossible to pronounce with certainty that either through
pique against the house of Hanover, or inability to resist her
own counsellors, she might not have come into the scheme of
altering the succession.
But, if neither the queen nor her lord treasurer were inclined
to take that vigorous course which one party demanded, they
at least did enough to raise just alarm in the other; and it seems
strange to deny that the protestant succession was in danger.
As Lord Oxford's ascendancy diminished, the signs of impending
revolution became less equivocal. Adherents of the house of
Stuart were placed in civil and military trust; an Irish agent
of the pretender was received in the character of envoy from the
court of Spain; the most audacious manifestations of disaffection
were overlooked.[328]
Several even in parliament spoke with
contempt and aversion of the house of Hanover.[329]
It was surely
not unreasonable in the whig party to meet these assaults of
the enemy with something beyond the ordinary weapons of an
opposition. They affected no apprehensions that it was absurd
to entertain. Those of the opposite faction, who wished well
to the protestant interest, and were called Hanoverian tories,
came over to their side, and joined them on motions that the
succession was in danger.[330]
No one hardly, who either hoped
or dreaded the consequences, had any doubts upon this score;
and it is only a few moderns who have assumed the privilege of
setting aside the persuasion of contemporaries upon a subject
which contemporaries were best able to understand.[331]
Are we
then to censure the whigs for urging on the elector of Hanover,
who, by a strange apathy or indifference, seemed negligent of
the great prize reserved for him; or is the bold step of demanding
a writ of summons for the electoral prince as Duke of Cambridge
to pass for a factious insult on the queen, because, in her
imbecility, she was leaving the Crown to be snatched at by the
first comer, even if she were not, as they suspected, in some
conspiracy to bestow it on a proscribed heir?[332]
I am much
inclined to believe, that the great majority of the nation were in
favour of the protestant succession; but, if the princes of the
house of Brunswick had seemed to retire from the contest, it
might have been impracticable to resist a predominant faction
in the council and in parliament; especially if the son of James,
listening to the remonstrances of his English adherents, could
have been induced to renounce a faith which, in the eyes of too
many, was the sole pretext for his exclusion.[333]
Accession of George I.—The queen's death, which came at last
perhaps rather more quickly than was foreseen, broke for ever
the fair prospects of her family. George I., unknown and
absent, was proclaimed without a single murmur, as if the Crown
had passed in the most regular descent. But this was a momentary
calm. The jacobite party, recovering from the first consternation,
availed itself of its usual arms, and of those with
which the new king injudiciously supplied it. Many of the
tories who would have acquiesced in the act of settlement, seem
to have looked on a leading share in the administration as
belonging of right to what was called the church party, and
complained of the formation of a ministry on the whig principle.
In later times also, it has been not uncommon to censure George
I. for governing, as it is called, by a faction. Nothing can be
more unreasonable than this reproach. Was he to select those
as his advisers, who had been, as we know and as he believed,
in a conspiracy with his competitor? Was Lord Oxford, even
if the king thought him faithful, capable of uniting with any
public men, hated as he was on each side? Were not the tories
as truly a faction as their adversaries, and as intolerant during
their own power?[334]
Was there not, above all, a danger that,
if some of one denomination were drawn by pique and disappointment
into the ranks of the jacobites, the whigs, on the
other hand, so ungratefully and perfidiously recompensed for
their arduous services to the house of Hanover, might think all
royalty irreconcilable with the principles of freedom, and raise
up a republican party, of which the scattered elements were
sufficiently discernible in the nation?[335]
The exclusion indeed
of the whigs would have been so monstrous both in honour and
policy, that the censure has generally fallen on their alleged
monopoly of public offices. But the mischiefs of a disunited,
hybrid ministry had been sufficiently manifest in the two last
reigns; nor could George, a stranger to his people and their
constitution, have undertaken without ruin that most difficult
task of balancing parties and persons, to which the great mind
of William had proved unequal. Nor is it true that the tories,
as such, were proscribed; those who chose to serve the court
met with court favour; and in the very outset the few men of
sufficient eminence, who had testified their attachment to the
succession, received equitable rewards; but, most happily for
himself and the kingdom, most reasonably according to the
principles on which alone his throne could rest, the first prince
of the house of Brunswick gave a decisive preponderance in
his favour to Walpole and Townshend above Harcourt and
Bolingbroke.
Great disaffection in the kingdom.—The strong symptoms of
disaffection which broke out in a few months after the king's
accession, and which can be ascribed to no grievance, unless the
formation of a whig ministry was to be termed one, prove the
taint of the late times to have been deep seated and extensive.[336]
The clergy, in very many instances, were a curse rather than a
blessing to those over whom they were set; and the people,
while they trusted that from those polluted fountains they could
draw the living waters of truth, became the dupes of factious
lies and sophistry. Thus encouraged, the heir of the Stuarts
landed in Scotland; and the spirit of that people being in a
great measure jacobite, and very generally averse to the union,
he met with such success as, had their independence subsisted,
would probably have established him on the throne. But Scotland
was now doomed to wait on the fortunes of her more powerful
ally; and, on his invasion of England, the noisy partisans of
hereditary right discredited their faction by its cowardice. Few
rose in arms to support the rebellion, compared with those who
desired its success, and did not blush to see the gallant savages
of the Highlands shed their blood that a supine herd of priests
and country gentlemen might enjoy the victory. The severity
of the new government after the rebellion has been often blamed;
but I know not whether, according to the usual rules of policy,
it can be proved that the execution of two peers and thirty
other persons, taken with arms in flagrant rebellion, was an
unwarrantable excess of punishment. There seems a latent
insinuation in those who have argued on the other side, as if
the jacobite rebellion, being founded on an opinion of right,
was more excusable than an ordinary treason—a proposition
which it would not have been quite safe for the reigning dynasty
to acknowledge. Clemency however is the standing policy of
constitutional governments, as severity is of despotism; and,
if the ministers of George I. might have extended it to part of
the inferior sufferers (for surely those of higher rank were the
first to be selected) with safety to their master, they would have
done well in sparing him the odium that attends all political
punishments.[337]
Impeachment of tory ministers.—It will be admitted on all
hands, at the present day, that the charge of high treason in
the impeachments against Oxford and Bolingbroke was an
intemperate excess of resentment at their scandalous dereliction
of the public honour and interest. The danger of a sanguinary
revenge inflamed by party spirit is so tremendous that the worst
of men ought perhaps to escape rather than suffer by a retrospective,
or, what is no better, a constructive, extension of the
law. The particular charge of treason was, that in the negotiation
for peace they had endeavoured to procure the city of
Tournay for the King of France; which was maintained to be
an adhering to the queen's enemies within the statute of Edward
III.[338]
But, as this construction could hardly be brought within
the spirit of that law, and the motive was certainly not treasonable
or rebellious, it would have been incomparably more constitutional
to treat so gross a breach of duty as a misdemeanour
of the highest kind. This angry temper of the Commons led
ultimately to the abandonment of the whole impeachment
against Lord Oxford; the upper house, though it had committed
Oxford to the Tower, which seemed to prejudge the question
as to the treasonable character of the imputed offence, having
two years afterwards resolved that the charge of treason should
be first determined, before they would enter on the articles of
less importance; a decision with which the Commons were so
ill satisfied that they declined to go forward with the prosecution.
The resolution of the Peers was hardly conformable to precedent,
to analogy, or to the dignity of the House of Commons, nor will
it perhaps be deemed binding on any future occasion; but the
ministers prudently suffered themselves to be beaten rather
than aggravate the fever of the people by a prosecution so full
of delicate and hazardous questions.[339]
One of these questions, and by no means the least important,
would doubtless have arisen upon a mode of defence alleged by
the Earl of Oxford in the house, when the articles of impeachment
were brought up. "My lords," he said, "if ministers of
state, acting by the immediate commands of their sovereign,
are afterwards to be made accountable for their proceedings, it
may, one day or other, be the case of all the members of this
august assembly."[340]
It was indeed undeniable that the queen
had been very desirous of peace, and a party, as it were, to all
the counsels that tended to it. Though it was made a charge
against the impeached lords, that the instructions to sign the
secret preliminaries of 1711 with M. Mesnager, on the part of
France, were not under the great seal, nor countersigned by any
minister, they were certainly under the queen's signet, and had
all the authority of her personal command. This must have
brought on the yet unsettled and very delicate question of
ministerial responsibility in matters where the sovereign has
interposed his own command; a question better reserved, it
might then appear, for the loose generalities of debate than to
be determined with the precision of criminal law. Each party,
in fact, had in its turn made use of the queen's personal authority
as a shield; the whigs availed themselves of it to parry the
attack made on their ministry, after its fall, for an alleged mismanagement
of the war in Spain before the battle of Almanza;[341]
and the modern constitutional theory was by no means so
established in public opinion as to bear the rude brunt of a
legal argument. Anne herself, like all her predecessors, kept
in her own hands the reins of power; jealous, as such feeble
characters usually are, of those in whom she was forced to
confide (especially after the ungrateful return of the Duchess
of Marlborough for the most affectionate condescension), and
obstinate in her judgment, from the very consciousness of its
weakness, she took a share in all business, frequently presided
in meetings of the cabinet, and sometimes gave directions without
their advice.[342]
The defence set up by Lord Oxford would
undoubtedly not be tolerated at present, if alleged in direct
terms, by either house of parliament; however it may sometimes
be deemed a sufficient apology for a minister, by those
whose bias is towards a compliance with power, to insinuate
that he must either obey against his conscience, or resign against
his will.
Bill for septennial parliaments.—Upon this prevalent disaffection,
and the general dangers of the established government,
was founded that measure so frequently arraigned in later times,
the substitution of septennial for triennial parliaments. The
ministry deemed it too perilous for their master, certainly for
themselves, to encounter a general election in 1717; but the
arguments adduced for the alteration, as it was meant to
be permanent, were drawn from its permanent expediency.
Nothing can be more extravagant than what is sometimes confidently
pretended by the ignorant, that the legislature exceeded
its rights by this enactment; or, if that cannot legally be advanced,
that it at least violated the trust of the people, and
broke in upon the ancient constitution. The law for triennial
parliaments was of little more than twenty years' continuance.
It was an experiment which, as was argued, had proved unsuccessful;
it was subject, like every other law, to be repealed
entirely, or to be modified at discretion. As a question of constitutional
expediency, the septennial bill was doubtless open
at the time to one serious objection. Every one admitted that
a parliament subsisting indefinitely during a king's life, but
exposed at all times to be dissolved at his pleasure, would
become far too little independent of the people, and far too
much so upon the Crown. But, if the period of its continuance
should thus be extended from three to seven years, the natural
course of encroachment, or some momentous circumstances like
the present, might lead to fresh prolongations, and gradually
to an entire repeal of what had been thought so important a
safeguard of its purity. Time has happily put an end to
apprehensions which are not on that account to be reckoned
unreasonable.[343]
Many attempts have been made to obtain a return to triennial
parliaments; the most considerable of which was in 1733, when
the powerful talents of Walpole and his opponents were arrayed
on this great question. It has been less debated in modern
times than some others connected with parliamentary reformation.
So long indeed as the sacred duties of choosing the representatives
of a free nation shall be perpetually disgraced by
tumultuary excess, or, what is far worse, by gross corruption
and ruinous profusion (evils which no effectual pains are taken
to redress, and which some apparently desire to perpetuate,
were it only to throw discredit upon the popular part of the
constitution), it would be evidently inexpedient to curtail the
present duration of parliament. But even, independently of
this not insuperable objection, it may well be doubted whether
triennial elections would make much perceptible difference in
the course of government, and whether that difference would
on the whole be beneficial. It will be found, I believe, on a
retrospect of the last hundred years, that the House of Commons
would have acted, in the main, on the same principles, had the
elections been more frequent; and certainly the effects of a
dissolution, when it has occurred in the regular order, have
seldom been very important. It is also to be considered whether
an assembly which so much takes to itself the character of a
deliberative council on all matters of policy, ought to follow
with the precision of a weather-glass the unstable prejudices of
the multitude. There are many who look too exclusively at
the functions of parliament, as the protector of civil liberty
against the Crown; functions, it is true, most important, yet
not more indispensable than those of steering a firm course in
domestic and external affairs, with a circumspectness and providence
for the future, which no wholly democratical government
has ever yet displayed. It is by a middle position between an
oligarchical senate, and a popular assembly, that the House of
Commons is best preserved both in its dignity and usefulness,
subject indeed to swerve towards either character by that
continual variation of forces which act upon the vast machine
of our commonwealth. But what seems more important than
the usual term of duration, is that this should be permitted to
take its course, except in cases where some great change of
national policy may perhaps justify its abridgment. The
Crown would obtain a very serious advantage over the House
of Commons, if it should become an ordinary thing to dissolve
parliament for some petty ministerial interest, or to avert some
unpalatable resolution. Custom appears to have established,
and with some convenience, the substitution of six for seven
years as the natural life of a House of Commons; but an habitual
irregularity in this respect might lead in time to consequences
that most men would deprecate. And it may here be permitted
to express a hope that the necessary dissolution of parliament
within six months of a demise of the Crown will not long be
thought congenial to the spirit of our modern government.
Peerage bill.—A far more unanimous sentence has been pronounced
by posterity upon another great constitutional question,
that arose under George I. Lord Sunderland persuaded
the king to renounce his important prerogative of making peers;
and a bill was supported by the ministry, limiting the House
of Lords, after the creation of a very few more, to its actual
numbers. The Scots were to have twenty-five hereditary,
instead of sixteen elective, members of the house; a provision
neither easily reconciled to the union, nor required by the general
tenor of the bill. This measure was carried with no difficulty
through the upper house, whose interests were so manifestly
concerned in it. But a similar motive, concurring with the
efforts of a powerful malcontent party, caused its rejection by
the Commons.[344]
It was justly thought a proof of the king's
ignorance or indifference in everything that concerned his
English Crown, that he should have consented to so momentous
a sacrifice; and Sunderland was reproached for so audacious
an endeavour to strengthen his private faction at the expense
of the fundamental laws of the monarchy. Those who maintained
the expediency of limiting the peerage, had recourse to
uncertain theories as to the ancient constitution, and denied
this prerogative to have been originally vested in the Crown.
A more plausible argument was derived from the abuse, as it
was then generally accounted, of creating at once twelve peers
in the late reign, for the sole end of establishing a majority for
the court; a resource which would be always at the command
of successive factions, till the British nobility might become as
numerous and venal as that of some European states. It was
argued that there was a fallacy in concluding the collective
power of the House of Lords to be augmented by its limitation,
because every single peer would evidently become of more weight
in the kingdom; that the wealth of the whole body must bear
a less proportion to that of the nation, and would possibly not
exceed that of the lower house, while on the other hand it might
be indefinitely multiplied by fresh creations; that the Crown
would lose one great engine of corrupt influence over the
Commons, which could never be truly independent, while its
principal members were looking on it as a stepping-stone to
hereditary honours.[345]
Though these reasonings however are not destitute of considerable
weight, and the unlimited prerogative of augmenting
the peerage is liable to such abuses, at least in theory, as might
overthrow our form of government; while, in the opinion of
some, whether erroneous or not, it has actually been exerted
with too little discretion, the arguments against any legal
limitation seem more decisive. The Crown has been carefully
restrained by statutes, and by the responsibility of its advisers;
the Commons, if they transgress their boundaries, are annihilated
by a proclamation; but against the ambition, or, what is
much more likely, the perverse haughtiness of the aristocracy,
the constitution has not furnished such direct securities. And,
as this would be prodigiously enhanced by a consciousness of
their power, and by a sense of self-importance which every peer
would derive from it after the limitation of their numbers, it
might break out in pretensions very galling to the people, and
in an oppressive extension of privileges which were already
sufficiently obnoxious and arbitrary. It is true that the resource
of subduing an aristocratical faction by the creation of new peers
could never be constitutionally employed, except in the case of
a nearly equal balance; but it might usefully hang over the
heads of the whole body, and deter them from any gross excesses
of faction or oligarchical spirit. The nature of our government
requires a general harmony between the two houses of parliament;
and indeed any systematic opposition between them
would of necessity bring on the subordination of one to the other
in too marked a manner; nor had there been wanting within
the memory of man, several instances of such jealous and even
hostile sentiments as could only be allayed by the inconvenient
remedies of a prorogation or a dissolution. These animosities
were likely to revive with more bitterness, when the country
gentlemen and leaders of the commons should come to look on
the nobility as a class into which they could not enter, and the
latter should forget more and more, in their inaccessible dignity,
the near approach of that gentry to themselves in respectability
of birth and extent of possessions.[346]
These innovations on the part of the new government were
maintained on the score of its unsettled state, and want of hold
on the national sentiment. It may seem a reproach to the
house of Hanover that, connected as it ought to have been with
the names most dear to English hearts, the protestant religion
and civil liberty, it should have been driven to try the resources
of tyranny, and to demand more authority, to exercise more
control, than had been necessary for the worst of their predecessors.
Much of this disaffection was owing to the cold reserve
of George I., ignorant of the language, alien from the prejudices
of his people, and continually absent in his electoral dominions,
to which he seemed to sacrifice the nation's interest and the
security of his own crown. It is certain that the acquisition
of the duchies of Bremen and Verden for Hanover in 1716
exposed Great Britain to a very serious danger, by provoking
the King of Sweden to join in a league for the restoration of the
Pretender.[347]
It might have been impossible (such was the precariousness
of our revolution settlement) to have made the abdication
of the electorate a condition of the house of Brunswick's
succession; but the consequences of that connection, though
much exaggerated by the factious and disaffected, were in various
manners detrimental to English interests during these two reigns;
and not the least in that they estranged the affections of the
people from sovereigns whom they regarded as still foreign.
Jacobitism among the clergy.—The tory and jacobite factions,
as I have observed, were powerful in the church. This had been
the case ever since the revolution. The avowed non-jurors were
busy with the press; and poured forth, especially during the
encouragement they received in part of Anne's reign, a multitude
of pamphlets, sometimes argumentative, more often
virulently libellous. Their idle cry that the church was in
danger, which both houses in 1704 thought fit to deny by a
formal vote, alarmed a senseless multitude. Those who took the
oaths were frequently known partisans of the exiled family;
and those who affected to disclaim that cause, defended the new
settlement with such timid or faithless arms as served only to
give a triumph to the adversary. About the end of William's
reign grew up the distinction of high and low churchmen; the
first distinguished by great pretensions to sacerdotal power,
both spiritual and temporal, by a repugnance to toleration, and
by a firm adherence to the tory principle in the state; the latter
by the opposite characteristics. These were pitched against
each other in the two houses of convocation, an assembly which
virtually ceased to exist under George I.
Convocation.—The convocation of the province of Canterbury
(for that of York seems never to have been important) is summoned
by the archbishop's writ, under the king's direction, along
with every parliament, to which it bears analogy both in its
constituent parts and in its primary functions. It consists
(since the reformation) of the suffragan bishops, forming the
upper house; of the deans, archdeacons, a proctor or proxy for
each chapter, and two from each diocese, elected by the parochial
clergy, who together constitute the lower house. In this
assembly subsidies were granted, and ecclesiastical canons
enacted. In a few instances under Henry VIII. and Elizabeth,
they were consulted as to momentous questions affecting the
national religion; the supremacy of the former was approved
in 1533, the articles of faith were confirmed in 1562, by the
convocation. But their power to enact fresh canons without
the king's licence, was expressly taken away by a statute of
Henry VIII.; and, even subject to this condition, is limited by
several later acts of parliament (such as the acts of uniformity
under Elizabeth and Charles II., that confirming, and therefore
rendering unalterable, the thirty-nine articles, those relating to
non-residence and other church matters), and still more perhaps
by the doctrine gradually established in Westminster Hall,
that new ecclesiastical canons are not binding on the laity, so
greatly that it will ever be impossible to exercise it in any effectual
manner. The convocation accordingly, with the exception of
1603, when they established some regulations, and of 1640 (an
unfortunate precedent), when they attempted some more, had
little business but to grant subsidies, which, however, were from
the time of Henry VIII. always confirmed by an act of parliament;
an intimation, no doubt, that the legislature did not
wholly acquiesce in their power even of binding the clergy in a
matter of property. This practice of ecclesiastical taxation was
silently discontinued in 1664; at a time when the authority and
pre-eminence of the church stood very high, so that it could not
then have seemed the abandonment of an important privilege.
From this time the clergy have been taxed at the same rate and
in the same manner with the laity.[348]
It was the natural consequence of this cessation of all business,
that the convocation, after a few formalities, either adjourned
itself or was prorogued by a royal writ; nor had it ever, with the
few exceptions above noticed, sat for more than a few days,
till its supply could be voted. But, about the time of the
revolution, the party most adverse to the new order sedulously
propagated a doctrine that the convocation ought to be advised
with upon all questions affecting the church, and ought even to
watch over its interests as the parliament did over those of the
kingdom.[349]
The Commons had so far encouraged this faction
as to refer to the convocation the great question of a reform in
the liturgy for the sake of comprehension, as has been mentioned
in the last chapter; and thus put a stop to the king's design.
It was not suffered to sit much during the rest of that reign, to
the great discontent of its ambitious leaders. The most celebrated
of these, Atterbury, published a book, entitled The
Rights and Privileges of an English Convocation, in answer to
one by Wake, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. The
speciousness of the former, sprinkled with competent learning
on the subject, a graceful style, and an artful employment of
topics, might easily delude, at least, the willing reader. Nothing
indeed could, on reflection, appear more inconclusive than Atterbury's
arguments. Were we even to admit the perfect analogy
of a convocation to a parliament, it could not be doubted that
the king may, legally speaking, prorogue the latter at his
pleasure; and that, if neither money were required to be granted
nor laws to be enacted, a session would be very short. The
church had by prescription a right to be summoned in convocation;
but no prescription could be set up for its longer continuance
than the Crown thought expedient; and it was too
much to expect that William III. was to gratify his half-avowed
enemies, with a privilege of remonstrance and interposition
they had never enjoyed. In the year 1701 the lower house of
convocation pretended to a right of adjourning to a different
day from that fixed by the upper, and consequently of holding
separate sessions. They set up other unprecedented claims to
independence, which were checked by a prorogation.[350]
Their
aim was in all respects to assimilate themselves to the House of
Commons, and thus both to set up the convocation itself as an
assembly collateral to parliament, and in the main independent
of it, and to maintain their co-ordinate power and equality in
synodical dignity to the prelates' house. The succeeding reign,
however, began under tory auspices; and the convocation was
in more activity for some years than at any former period. The
lower house of that assembly still distinguished itself by the
most factious spirit, and especially by insolence towards the
bishops, who passed in general for whigs, and whom, while
pretending to assert the divine rights of episcopacy, they laboured
to deprive of that pre-eminence in the Anglican synod which
the ecclesiastical constitution of the kingdom had bestowed on
them.[351]
None was more prominent in their debates than Atterbury
himself, whom, in the zenith of tory influence, at the close of
her reign, the queen reluctantly promoted to the see of Rochester.
The new government at first permitted the convocation to
hold its sittings. But they soon excited a flame which consumed
themselves by an attack on Hoadley, Bishop of Bangor, who had
preached a sermon abounding with those principles concerning
religious liberty, of which he had long been the courageous and
powerful assertor.[352]
The lower house of convocation thought
fit to denounce, through the report of a committee, the dangerous
tenets of this discourse, and of a work not long before published
by the bishop. A long and celebrated war of pens instantly
commenced, known by the name of the Bangorian controversy;
managed, perhaps on both sides, with all the chicanery of
polemical writers, and disgusting both from its tediousness, and
from the manifest unwillingness of the disputants to speak
ingenuously what they meant.[353]
But, as the principles of
Hoadley and his advocates appeared, in the main, little else
than those of protestantism and toleration, the sentence of the
laity, in the temper that was then gaining ground as to ecclesiastical
subjects, was soon pronounced in their favour; and the
high-church party discredited themselves by an opposition to
what now pass for the incontrovertible truisms of religious
liberty. In the ferment of that age, it was expedient for the
state to scatter a little dust over the angry insects; the convocation
was accordingly prorogued in 1717, and has never
again sat for any business.[354]
Those who are imbued with high
notions of sacerdotal power have sometimes deplored this extinction
of the Anglican great council; and though its necessity,
as I have already observed, cannot possibly be defended as an
ancient part of the constitution, there are not wanting specious
arguments for the expediency of such a synod. It might be
urged that the church, considered only as an integral member
of the commonwealth, and the greatest corporation within it,
might justly claim that right of managing its own affairs which
belongs to every other association; that the argument from
abuse is not sufficient, and is rejected with indignation when
applied, as historically it might be, to representative governments
and to civil liberty; that in the present state of things,
no reformation even of secondary importance can be effected
without difficulty, nor any looked for in greater matters, both
from the indifference of the legislature, and the reluctance of the
clergy to admit its interposition.
It is answered to these suggestions, that we must take experience
when we possess it, rather than analogy, for our guide;
that ecclesiastical assemblies have in all ages and countries been
mischievous, where they have been powerful, which that of our
wealthy and numerous clergy must always be; that, notwithstanding,
if the convocation could be brought under the management
of the state (which by the nature of its component parts
might seem not unlikely), it must lead to the promotion of
servile men, and the exclusion of merit still more than at present;
that the severe remark of Clarendon, who observes that of all
mankind none form so bad an estimate of human affairs as
churchmen, is abundantly confirmed by experience; that the
representation of the church in the House of Lords is sufficient
for the protection of its interests; that the clergy have an
influence which no other corporation enjoys over the bulk of
the nation, and are apt to abuse it for the purposes of undue
ascendancy, unjust restraint, or factious ambition; that the
hope of any real good in reformation of the Church by its own
assemblies to whatever sort of reform we may look, is utterly
chimerical; finally, that as the laws now stand, which few would
incline to alter, the ratification of parliament must be indispensable
for any material change. It seems to admit of no
doubt that these reasonings ought much to outweigh those on
the opposite side.
Infringements of the toleration by statutes under Anne.—In the
last four years of the queen's reign, some inroads had been made
on the toleration granted to dissenters, whom the high-church
party held in abhorrence. They had for a long time inveighed
against what was called occasional conformity, or the compliance
of dissenters with the provisions of the test act in order merely
to qualify themselves for holding office, or entering into corporations.
Nothing could, in the eyes of sensible men, be more
advantageous to the church, if a re-union of those who had
separated from it were advantageous, than this practice.
Admitting even that the motive was self-interested, has an
established government, in church or state, any better ally
than the self-interestedness of mankind? Was it not what a
presbyterian or independent minister would denounce as a base
and worldly sacrifice? and if so, was not the interest of the
Anglican clergy exactly in an inverse proportion to this? Any
one competent to judge of human affairs would predict, what
has turned out to be the case, that when the barrier was once
taken down for the sake of convenience, it would not be raised
again for conscience; that the most latitudinarian theory, the
most lukewarm dispositions in religion, must be prodigiously
favourable to the reigning sect; and that the dissenting clergy,
though they might retain, or even extend, their influence over
the multitude, would gradually lose it with those classes who
could be affected by the test. But, even if the tory faction had
been cool-headed enough for such reflections, it has, unfortunately,
been sometimes less the aim of the clergy to reconcile
those who differ from them than to keep them in a state of dishonour
and depression. Hence, in the first parliament of Anne,
a bill to prevent occasional conformity more than once passed
the Commons; and, on its being rejected by the Lords, a great
majority of William's bishops voting against the measure, it
was sent up again in a very reprehensible manner, tacked, as it
was called, to a grant of money; so that, according to the pretension
of the Commons in respect to such bills, the upper house
must either refuse the supply, or consent to what they disapproved.[355]
This however having miscarried, and the next parliament
being of better principles, nothing farther was done till
1711, when Lord Nottingham, a vehement high-churchman,
having united with the whigs against the treaty of peace, they
were injudicious enough to gratify him by concurring in a bill
to prevent occasional conformity.[356]
This was followed up by
the ministry in a more decisive attack on the toleration, an act
for preventing the growth of schism, which extended and confirmed
one of Charles II., enforcing on all schoolmasters, and
even on all teachers in private families, a declaration of conformity
to the established church, to be made before the bishop,
from whom a licence for exercising that profession was also to
be obtained.[357]
It is impossible to doubt for an instant, that if
the queen's life had preserved the tory government for a few
years, every vestige of the toleration would have been effaced.
These statutes, records of their adversaries' power, the whigs,
now lords of the ascendant, determined to abrogate. The
dissenters were unanimously zealous for the house of Hanover
and for the ministry; the church of very doubtful loyalty to
the Crown, and still less affection to the whig name. In the
session of 1719, accordingly, the act against occasional conformity,
and that restraining education, were repealed.[358]
It
had been the intention to have also repealed the test act; but
the disunion then prevailing among the whigs had caused so
formidable an opposition even to the former measures, that it
was found necessary to abandon that project. Walpole, more
cautious and moderate than the ministry of 1719, perceived
the advantage of reconciling the church as far as possible to
the royal family and to his own government; and it seems to
have been an article in the tacit compromise with the bishops,
who were not backward in exerting their influence for the
Crown, that he should make no attempt to abrogate the laws
which gave a monopoly of power to the Anglican communion.
We may presume also that the prelates undertook not to obstruct
the acts of indemnity passed from time to time in favour
of those who had not duly qualified themselves for the offices
they held; and which, after some time becoming regular, have
in effect thrown open the gates to protestant dissenters, though
still subject to be closed by either house of parliament, if any
jealousies should induce them to refuse their assent to this
annual enactment.[359]
Principles of toleration fully established.—Meanwhile the principles
of religious liberty, in all senses of the word, gained
strength by this eager controversy, naturally pleasing as they
are to the proud independence of the English character, and
congenial to those of civil freedom, which both parties, tory as
much as whig, had now learned sedulously to maintain. The
non-juring and high-church factions among the clergy produced
few eminent men; and lost credit, not more by the folly of their
notions than by their general want of scholarship and disregard
of their duties. The university of Oxford was tainted to the
core with jacobite prejudices; but it must be added that it
never stood so low in respectability as a place of education.[360]
The government, on the other hand, was studious to promote
distinguished men; and doubtless the hierarchy in the first
sixty years of the eighteenth century might very advantageously
be compared, in point of conspicuous ability, with that of any
equal period that ensued. The maxims of persecution were
silently abandoned, as well as its practice; Warburton, and
others of less name, taught those of toleration with as much
boldness as Hoadley, but without some of his more invidious
tenets; the more popular writers took a liberal tone; the names
of Locke and Montesquieu acquired immense authority; the
courts of justice discountenanced any endeavour to revive
oppressive statutes; and, not long after the end of George the
Second's reign, it was adjudged in the House of Lords, upon the
broadest principles of toleration laid down by Lord Mansfield,
that nonconformity with the established church is recognised
by the law, and not an offence at which it connives.
Banishment of Atterbury.—Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester,
the most distinguished of the party denominated high-church,
became the victim of his restless character and implacable disaffection
to the house of Hanover. The pretended king, for
some years after his competitor's accession, had fair hopes from
different powers of Europe—France, Sweden, Russia, Spain,
Austria—(each of whom, in its turn, was ready to make use of
this instrument), and from the powerful faction who panted
for his restoration. This was unquestionably very numerous;
though we have not as yet the means of fixing with certainty
on more than comparatively a small number of names. But a
conspiracy for an invasion from Spain and a simultaneous rising
was detected in 1722, which implicated three or four peers, and
among them the Bishop of Rochester.[361]
The evidence, however,
though tolerably convincing, being insufficient for a verdict at
law, it was thought expedient to pass a bill of pains and penalties
against this prelate, as well as others against two of his accomplices.
The proof, besides many corroborating circumstances,
consisted in three letters relative to the conspiracy, supposed
to be written by his secretary Kelly, and appearing to be
dictated by the bishop. He was deprived of his see, and
banished the kingdom for life.[362]
This met with strong opposition,
not limited to the enemies of the royal family, and is open
to the same objection as the attainder of Sir John Fenwick;
the danger of setting aside those precious securities against a
wicked government which the law of treason has furnished. As
a vigorous assertion of the state's authority over the church we
may commend the policy of Atterbury's deprivation; but perhaps
this was ill purchased by a mischievous precedent. It is
however the last act of a violent nature in any important matter,
which can be charged against the English legislature.
Decline of the Jacobites.—No extensive conspiracy of the
jacobite faction seems ever to have been in agitation after the
fall of Atterbury. The Pretender had his emissaries perpetually
alert; and it is understood that an enormous mass of letters
from his English friends is in existence;[363]
but very few had the
courage, or rather folly, to plunge into so desperate a course as
rebellion. Walpole's prudent and vigilant administration, without
transgressing the boundaries of that free constitution for
which alone the house of Brunswick had been preferred, kept
in check the disaffected. He wisely sought the friendship of
Cardinal Fleury, aware that no other power in Europe than
France could effectually assist the banished family. After his
own fall and the death of Fleury, new combinations of foreign
policy arose; his successors returned to the Austrian connection;
a war with France broke out; the grandson of James II. became
master, for a moment, of Scotland, and even advanced to the
centre of this peaceful and unprotected kingdom. But this was
hardly more ignominious to the government than to the jacobites
themselves; none of them joined the standard of their pretended
sovereign; and the rebellion of 1745 was conclusive, by its own
temporary success, against the possibility of his restoration.[364]
From this time the government, even when in search of pretexts
for alarm, could hardly affect to dread a name grown so contemptible
as that of the Stuart party. It survived however for
the rest of the reign of George II. in those magnanimous compotations,
which had always been the best evidence of its
courage and fidelity.
Prejudices against the reigning family.—Though the jacobite
party had set before its eyes an object most dangerous to the
public tranquillity, and which, could it have been attained,
would have brought on again the contention of the seventeenth
century; though, in taking oaths to a government against
which they were in conspiracy, they showed a systematic disregard
of obligation, and were as little mindful of allegiance, in
the years 1715 and 1745, to the prince they owned in their
hearts, as they had been to him whom they had professed to
acknowledge, it ought to be admitted that they were rendered
more numerous and formidable than was necessary by the faults
of the reigning kings or of their ministers. They were not
actuated for the most part (perhaps with very few exceptions)
by the slavish principles of indefeasible right, much less by those
of despotic power. They had been so long in opposition to the
court, they had so often spoken the language of liberty, that we
may justly believe them to have been its friends. It was the
policy of Walpole to keep alive the strongest prejudice in the
mind of George II., obstinately retentive of prejudice, as such
narrow and passionate minds always are, against the whole body
of the tories. They were ill received at court, and generally
excluded, not only from those departments of office which the
dominant party have a right to keep in their power, but from
the commission of the peace, and every other subordinate trust.[365]
This illiberal and selfish course retained many, no doubt, in the
Pretender's camp, who must have perceived both the improbability
of his restoration, and the difficulty of reconciling it
with the safety of our constitution. He was indeed, as well as
his son, far less worthy of respect than the contemporary Brunswick
kings: without absolutely wanting capacity or courage, he
gave the most undeniable evidence of his legitimacy by constantly
resisting the counsels of wise men, and yielding to those
of priests; while his son, the fugitive of Culloden, despised and
deserted by his own party, insulted by the court of France, lost
with the advance of years even the respect and compassion
which wait on unceasing misfortune, the last sad inheritance of
the house of Stuart.[366]
But they were little known in England,
and from unknown princes men are prone to hope much: if
some could anticipate a redress of every evil from Frederic
Prince of Wales, whom they might discover to be destitute of
respectable qualities, it cannot be wondered at that others
might draw equally flattering prognostics from the accession of
Charles Edward. It is almost certain that, if either the claimant
or his son had embraced the protestant religion, and had also
manifested any superior strength of mind, the German prejudices
of the reigning family would have cost them the throne,
as they did the people's affections. Jacobitism, in the great
majority, was one modification of the spirit of liberty burning
strongly in the nation at this period. It gave a rallying point
to that indefinite discontent, which is excited by an ill opinion
of rulers, and to that disinterested, though ignorant patriotism
which boils up in youthful minds. The government in possession
was hated, not as usurped, but as corrupt; the banished
line was demanded, not so much because it was legitimate, but
because it was the fancied means of redressing grievances and
regenerating the constitution. Such notions were doubtless
absurd; but it is undeniable that they were common, and had
been so almost from the revolution. I speak only, it will be
observed, of the English jacobites; in Scotland the sentiments of
loyalty and national pride had a vital energy, and the Highland
chieftains gave their blood, as freely as their southern allies did
their wine, for the cause of their ancient kings.
No one can have looked in the most cursory manner at the
political writings of these two reigns, or at the debates of parliament,
without being struck by the continual predictions that
our liberties were on the point of extinguishment, or at least
by apprehensions of their being endangered. It might seem
that little or nothing had been gained by the revolution, and
by the substitution of an elective dynasty. This doubtless it
was the interest of the Stuart party to maintain or insinuate;
and, in the conflict of factions, those who, with far opposite
views, had separated from the court, seemed to lend them aid.
The declamatory exaggerations of that able and ambitious body
of men who co-operated against the ministry of Sir Robert
Walpole have long been rejected; and perhaps in the usual
reflux of popular opinion, his domestic administration (for in
foreign policy his views, so far as he was permitted to act upon
them, appear to have been uniformly judicious) has obtained
of late rather an undue degree of favour. I have already
observed that, for the sake of his own ascendancy in the cabinet,
he kept up unnecessarily the distinctions of the whig and tory
parties, and thus impaired the stability of the royal house,
which it was his chief care to support. And, though his government
was so far from anything oppressive or arbitrary that,
considered either relatively to any former times, or to the extensive
disaffection known to subsist, it was uncommonly moderate;
yet, feeling or feigning alarm at the jacobite intrigues on the
one hand, at the democratic tone of public sentiment and of
popular writings on the other, he laboured to preserve a more
narrow and oligarchical spirit than was congenial to so great
and brave a people, and trusted not enough, as indeed is the
general fault of ministers, to the sway of good sense and honesty
over disinterested minds. But, as he never had a complete
influence over his master, and knew that those who opposed
him had little else in view than to seize the reins of power and
manage them worse, his deviations from the straight course are
more pardonable.
The clamorous invectives of this opposition, combined with
the subsequent dereliction of avowed principles by many among
them when in power, contributed more than anything else in
our history to cast obloquy and suspicion, or even ridicule, on
the name and occupation of patriots. Men of sordid and venal
characters always rejoice to generalise so convenient a maxim
as the non-existence of public virtue. It may not however be
improbable, that many of those who took a part in this long
contention, were less insincere than it has been the fashion to
believe, though led too far at the moment by their own passions,
as well as by the necessity of colouring highly a picture meant
for the multitude, and reduced afterwards to the usual compromises
and concessions, without which power in this country is
ever unattainable. But waiving a topic too generally historical
for the present chapter, it will be worth while to consider what
sort of ground there might be for some prevalent subjects of
declamation; and whether the power of government had not,
in several respects, been a good deal enhanced since the beginning
of the century. By the power of government I mean not
so much the personal authority of the sovereign as that of his
ministers, acting perhaps without his directions; which, since
the reign of William, is to be distinguished, if we look at it
analytically, from the monarchy itself.
I. The most striking acquisition of power by the Crown in
the new model of government, if I may use such an expression,
is the permanence of a regular military force. The reader
cannot need to be reminded that no army existed before the
civil war, that the guards in the reign of Charles II. were about
5000 men, that in the breathing-time between the peace of
Ryswick and the war of the Spanish succession, the Commons
could not be brought to keep up more than 7000 troops. Nothing
could be more repugnant to the national prejudices than
a standing army. The tories, partly from regard to the ancient
usage of the constitution, partly, no doubt, from a factious or
disaffected spirit, were unanimous in protesting against it. The
most disinterested and zealous lovers of liberty came with great
suspicion and reluctance into what seemed so perilous an innovation.
But the court, after the accession of the house of
Hanover, had many reasons for insisting upon so great an
augmentation of its power and security. It is remarkable to
perceive by what stealthy advances this came on. Two long
wars had rendered the army a profession for men in the higher
and middling classes, and familiarised the nation to their dress
and rank; it had achieved great honour for itself and the
English name; and in the nature of mankind the patriotism
of glory is too often an overmatch for that of liberty. The two
kings were fond of warlike policy, the second of war itself;
their schemes, and those of their ministers, demanded an imposing
attitude in negotiation, which an army, it was thought,
could best give; the cabinet was for many years entangled in
alliances, shifting sometimes rapidly, but in each combination
liable to produce the interruption of peace. In the new system
which rendered the houses of parliament partakers in the executive
administration, they were drawn themselves into the approbation
of every successive measure, either on the propositions of
ministers, or as often happens more indirectly, but hardly less
effectually, by passing a negative on those of their opponents.
Permanent military force.—The number of troops for which
a vote was annually demanded, after some variations, in the
first years of George I., was, during the whole administration
of Sir Robert Walpole, except when the state of Europe excited
some apprehension of disturbance, rather more than 17,000
men, independent of those on the Irish establishment, but
including the garrisons of Minorca and Gibraltar. And this
continued with little alteration to be our standing army in time
of peace during the eighteenth century.
This army was always understood to be kept on foot, as it is
still expressed in the preamble of every mutiny bill, for better
preserving the balance of power in Europe. The Commons
would not for an instant admit that it was necessary as a
permanent force, in order to maintain the government at home.
There can be no question however that the court saw its advantage
in this light; and I am not perfectly sure that some of the
multiplied negotiations on the continent in that age were not
intended as a pretext for keeping up the army, or at least as a
means of exciting alarm for the security of the established
government. In fact, there would have been rebellions in the
time of George I., not only in Scotland, which perhaps could
not otherwise have been preserved, but in many parts of the
kingdom, had the parliament adhered with too pertinacious
bigotry to their ancient maxims. Yet these had such influence
that it was long before the army was admitted by every one to
be perpetual; and I do not know that it has ever been recognised
as such in our statutes. Mr. Pulteney, so late as 1732, a man
neither disaffected nor democratical, and whose views extended
no farther than a change of hands, declared that he "always
had been, and always would be, against a standing army of any
kind; it was to him a terrible thing, whether under the denomination
of parliamentary or any other. A standing army is still
a standing army, whatever name it be called by; they are a
body of men distinct from the body of the people; they are
governed by different laws; blind obedience and an entire submission
to the orders of their commanding officer is their only
principle. The nations around us are already enslaved, and
have been enslaved by those very means; by means of their
standing armies they have every one lost their liberties; it is
indeed impossible that the liberties of the people can be preserved
in any country where a numerous standing army is
kept up."[367]
This wholesome jealousy, though it did not prevent what
was indeed for many reasons not to be dispensed with, the
establishment of a regular force, kept it within bounds which
possibly the administration, if left to itself, would have gladly
overleaped. A clause in the mutiny bill, first inserted in 1718,
enabling courts-martial to punish mutiny and desertion with
death, which had hitherto been only cognisable as capital
offences by the civil magistrate, was carried by a very small
majority in both houses.[368]
An act was passed in 1735, directing
that no troops should come within two miles of any place,
except the capital or a garrisoned town, during an election;[369]
and on some occasions, both the Commons and the courts of
justice showed that they had not forgotten the maxims of their
ancestors as to the supremacy of the civil power.[370]
A more
important measure was projected by men of independent principles,
at once to secure the kingdom against attack, invaded
as it had been by rebels in 1745, and thrown into the most
ignominious panic on the rumours of a French armament in
1756, to take away the pretext for a large standing force, and
perhaps to furnish a guarantee against any evil purposes to
which in future times it might be subservient, by the establishment
of a national militia, under the sole authority, indeed of
the Crown, but commanded by gentlemen of sufficient estates,
and not liable, except in war, to be marched out of its proper
county. This favourite plan, with some reluctance on the part
of the government, was adopted in 1757.[371]
But though, during
the long periods of hostilities which have unfortunately ensued,
this embodied force had doubtless placed the kingdom in a
more respectable state of security, it has not much contributed
to diminish the number of our regular forces; and, from some
defects in its constitution, arising out of too great attention to
our ancient local divisions, and of too indiscriminate a dispensation
with personal service, which has filled the ranks with the
refuse of the community, the militia has grown unpopular and
burthensome, rather considered of late by the government as a
means of recruiting the army than as worthy of preservation in
itself, and accordingly thrown aside in time of peace; so that
the person who acquired great popularity as the author of this
institution, lived to see it worn out and gone to decay, and the
principles, above all, upon which he had brought it forward,
just enough remembered to be turned into ridicule. Yet the
success of that magnificent organisation which, in our own time,
has been established in France, is sufficient to evince the possibility
of a national militia; and we know with what spirit such
a force was kept up for some years in this country, under the
name of volunteers and yeomanry, on its only real basis, that
of property, and in such local distribution as convenience pointed
out.
Nothing could be more idle, at any time since the revolution,
than to suppose that the regular army would pull the speaker
out of his chair, or in any manner be employed to confirm a
despotic power in the Crown. Such power, I think, could never
have been the waking dream of either king or minister. But
as the slightest inroads upon private rights and liberties are to
be guarded against in any nation that deserves to be called free,
we should always keep in mind not only that the military power
is subordinate to the civil, but, as this subordination must cease
where the former is frequently employed, that it should never
be called upon in aid of the peace without sufficient cause.
Nothing would more break down this notion of the law's supremacy
than the perpetual interference of those who are really
governed by another law; for the doctrine of some judges, that
the soldier, being still a citizen, acts only in preservation of the
public peace, as another citizen is bound to do, must be felt as
a sophism, even by those who cannot find an answer to it.
And, even in slight circumstances, it is not conformable to the
principles of our government to make that vain display of
military authority which disgusts us so much in some continental
kingdoms. But, not to dwell on this, it is more to our
immediate purpose that the executive power has acquired such
a coadjutor in the regular army that it can, in no probable
emergency, have much to apprehend from popular sedition.
The increased facilities of transport, and several improvements
in military art and science, which will occur to the reader, have
in later times greatly enhanced this advantage.
II. It must be apparent to every one that since the restoration,
and especially since the revolution, an immense power has
been thrown into the scale of both houses of parliament, though
practically in more frequent exercise by the lower, in consequence
of their annual session during several months, and of their almost
unlimited rights of investigation, discussion, and advice. But, if
the Crown should by any means become secure of an ascendancy
in this assembly, it is evident that, although the prerogative,
technically speaking, might be diminished, the power might be
the same, or even possibly more efficacious; and that this result
must be proportioned to the degree and security of such an
ascendancy. A parliament absolutely, and in all conceivable
circumstances, under the control of the sovereign, whether
through intimidation or corrupt subservience, could not, without
absurdity, be deemed a co-ordinate power, or, indeed, in any
sense, a restraint upon his will. This is however an extreme
supposition, which no man, unless both grossly factious and
ignorant, will ever pretend to have been realised. But, as it
would equally contradict notorious truth to assert that every
vote has been disinterested and independent, the degree of
influence which ought to be permitted, or which has at any
time existed, becomes one of the most important subjects in
our constitutional policy.
I have mentioned in the last chapter both the provisions
inserted in the act of settlement, with the design of excluding
altogether the possessors of public office from the House of
Commons, and the modifications of them by several acts of the
queen. These were deemed by the country party so inadequate
to restrain the dependents of power from overspreading the
benches of the Commons that perpetual attempts were made
to carry the exclusive principle to a far greater length. In the
two next reigns, if we can trust to the uncontradicted language
of debate, or even to the descriptions of individuals in the lists
of each parliament, we must conclude that a very undue proportion
of dependents on the favour of government were made
its censors and counsellors. There was still, however, so much
left of an independent spirit, that bills for restricting the number
of placemen, or excluding pensioners, met always with countenance;
they were sometimes rejected by very slight majorities;
and, after a time, Sir Robert Walpole found it expedient to
reserve his opposition for the surer field of the other house.[372]
After his fall, it was imputed with some justice to his successors,
that they shrunk in power from the bold reformation which they
had so frequently endeavoured; the king was indignantly averse
to all retrenchment of his power, and they wanted probably
both the inclination and the influence to cut off all corruption.
Yet we owe to this ministry the place bill of 1743, which, derided
as it was at the time, seems to have had a considerable effect;
excluding a great number of inferior officers from the House of
Commons, which has never since contained so revolting a list of
court-deputies as it did in the age of Walpole.[373]
Secret corruption.—But while this acknowledged influence of
lucrative office might be presumed to operate on many staunch
adherents of the actual administration, there was always a
strong suspicion, or rather a general certainty, of absolute
corruption. The proofs in single instances could never perhaps
be established; which, of course, is not surprising. But no one
seriously called in question the reality of a systematic distribution
of money by the Crown to the representatives of the people;
nor did the corrupters themselves, in whom the crime seems
always to be deemed less heinous, disguise it in private.[374]
It is
true that the appropriation of supplies, and the established
course of the exchequer, render the greatest part of the public
revenue secure from misapplication; but, under the head of
secret service money, a very large sum was annually expended
without account, and some other parts of the civil list were
equally free from all public examination.[375]
The committee of
secrecy appointed after the resignation of Sir Robert Walpole
endeavoured to elicit some distinct evidence of this misapplication;
but the obscurity natural to such transactions, and the
guilty collusion of subaltern accomplices, who shrouded themselves
in the protection of the law, defeated every hope of
punishment, or even personal disgrace.[376]
This practice of direct
bribery continued, beyond doubt, long afterwards, and is
generally supposed to have ceased about the termination of the
American war.
There is hardly any doctrine with respect to our government
more in fashion than that a considerable influence of the Crown
(meaning of course a corrupt influence) in both houses of
parliament, and especially in the Commons, has been rendered
indispensable by the vast enhancement of their own power
over the public administration. It is doubtless most expedient
that many servants of the Crown should be also servants of the
people; and no man who values the constitution would separate
the functions of ministers of state from those of legislators.
The glory that waits on wisdom and eloquence in the senate
should always be the great prize of an English statesman, and
his high road to the sovereign's favour. But the maxim that
private vices are public benefits is as sophistical as it is disgusting;
and it is self-evident, both that the expectation of a
clandestine recompense, or what in effect is the same thing, of
a lucrative office, cannot be the motive of an upright man in his
vote, and that if an entire parliament should be composed of
such venal spirits, there would be an end of all control upon the
Crown. There is no real cause to apprehend that a virtuous
and enlightened government would find difficulty in resting upon
the reputation justly due to it; especially when we throw into
the scale that species of influence which must ever subsist, the
sentiment of respect and loyalty to a sovereign, of friendship
and gratitude to a minister, of habitual confidence in those
intrusted with power, of averseness to confusion and untried
change, which have in fact more extensive operation than any
sordid motives, and which must almost always render them
unnecessary.
III. Commitments for breach of privilege.—The co-operation
of both houses of parliament with the executive government
enabled the latter to convert to its own purpose what had often
in former times been employed against it, the power of inflicting
punishment for breach of privilege. But as the subject of
parliamentary privilege is of no slight importance, it will be
convenient on this occasion to bring the whole before the reader
in as concise a summary as possible, distinguishing the power,
as it relates to offences committed by members of either house,
or against them singly, or the houses of parliament collectively,
or against the government and the public.
1. It has been the constant practice of the House of Commons
to repress disorderly or indecent behaviour by a censure delivered
through the speaker. Instances of this are even noticed in the
journals under Edward VI. and Mary; and it is in fact essential
to the regular proceedings of any assembly. In the former reign
they also committed one of their members to the Tower. But in
the famous case of Arthur Hall in 1581, they established the first
precedent of punishing one of their own body for a printed libel
derogatory to them as a part of the legislature; and they inflicted
the threefold penalty of imprisonment, fine, and expulsion.[377]
From this time forth it was understood to be the law and usage
of parliament, that the Commons might commit to prison any
one of their members for misconduct in the house, or relating to
it. The right of imposing a fine was very rarely asserted after
the instance of Hall. But that of expulsion, no earlier precedent
whereof has been recorded, became as indubitable as frequent
and unquestioned usage could render it. It was carried to a
great excess by the long parliament, and again in the year 1680.
These, however, were times of extreme violence; and the prevailing
faction had an apology in the designs of the court, which
required an energy beyond the law to counteract them. The
offences, too, which the whigs thus punished in 1680, were in
their effect against the power and even existence of parliament.
The privilege was far more unwarrantably exerted by the
opposite party in 1714, against Sir Richard Steele, expelled the
house for writing the "Crisis," a pamphlet reflecting on the
ministry. This was, perhaps, the first instance wherein the
House of Commons so identified itself with the executive
administration, independently of the sovereign's person, as to
consider itself libelled by those who impugned its measures.[378]
In a few instances an attempt was made to carry this farther,
by declaring the party incapable of sitting in parliament. It
is hardly necessary to remark that upon this rested the celebrated
question of the Middlesex election in 1769. If a few precedents,
and those not before the year 1680, were to determine all controversies
of constitutional law, it is plain enough from the
journals that the house have assumed the power of incapacitation.
But as such an authority is highly dangerous and unnecessary
for any good purpose, and as, according to all legal rules, so
extraordinary a power could not be supported except by a sort
of prescription which cannot be shown, the final resolution of
the House of Commons, which condemned the votes passed in
times of great excitement, appears far more consonant to just
principles.
2. The power of each house of parliament over those who do
not belong to it is of a more extensive consideration, and has lain
open, in some respects, to more doubt than that over its own
members. It has been exercised, in the first place, very frequently,
and from an early period, in order to protect the members
personally, and in their properties, from anything which has
been construed to interfere with the discharge of their functions.
Every obstruction in these duties, by assaulting, challenging,
insulting any single representative of the Commons, has from
the middle of the sixteenth century downwards, that is, from
the beginning of their regular journals, been justly deemed a
breach of privilege, and an offence against the whole body. It
has been punished generally by commitment, either to the
custody of the house's officer, the serjeant-at-arms, or to the
king's prison. This summary proceeding is usually defended
by a technical analogy to what are called attachments for
contempt, by which every court of record is entitled to punish
by imprisonment, if not also by fine, any obstruction to its acts
or contumacious resistance of them. But it tended also to raise
the dignity of parliament in the eyes of the people, at times
when the government, and even the courts of justice, were not
greatly inclined to regard it; and has been also a necessary safeguard
against the insolence of power. The majority are bound
to respect, and indeed have respected, the rights of every
member, however obnoxious to them, on all questions of privilege.
Even in the case most likely to occur in the present age, that of
libels, which by no unreasonable stretch come under the head of
obstructions, it would be unjust that a patriotic legislator,
exposed to calumny for his zeal in the public cause, should be
necessarily driven to a troublesome and uncertain process at
law, when the offence so manifestly affects the real interests of
parliament and the nation. The application of this principle
must of course require a discreet temper, which was not perhaps
always observed in former times, especially in the reign of
William III. Instances at least of punishment for breach of
privilege by personal reflections are never so common as in the
journals of that turbulent period.
The most usual mode, however, of incurring the animadversion
of the house was by molestations in regard to property.
It was the most ancient privilege of the Commons to be free
from all legal process, during the term of the session and for
forty days before and after, except on charges of treason, felony,
or breach of the peace. I have elsewhere mentioned the great
case of Ferrers, under Henry VIII., wherein the house first, as
far as we know, exerted the power of committing to prison those
who had been concerned in arresting one of its members; and
have shown that, after some little intermission, this became
their recognised and customary right. Numberless instances
occur of its exercise.[379]
It was not only a breach of privilege to
serve any sort of process upon them, but to put them under the
necessity of seeking redress at law for any civil injury. Thus
abundant cases are found in the journals, where persons have
been committed to prison for entering on the estates of members,
carrying away timber, lopping trees, digging coal, fishing in
their waters. Their servants, and even their tenants, if the
trespass were such as to affect the landlord's property, had the
same protection.[380]
The grievance of so unparalleled an immunity
must have been notorious, since it not only suspended
at least the redress of creditors, but enabled rapacious men to
establish in some measure unjust claims in respect of property;
the alleged trespasses being generally founded on some disputed
right. An act however was passed, rendering the members of
both houses liable to civil suits during the prorogation of parliament.[381]
But they long continued to avenge the private injuries,
real or pretended, of their members. On a complaint of breach
of privilege by trespassing on a fishery (Jan. 25, 1768), they
heard evidence on both sides, and determined that no breach of
privilege had been committed; thus indirectly taking on them
the decision of a freehold right. A few days after they came
to a resolution, "that in case of any complaint of a breach
of privilege, hereafter to be made by any member of this
house, if the house shall adjudge there is no ground for such
complaint, the house will order satisfaction to the person
complained of for his costs and expenses incurred by reason
of such complaint."[382]
But little opportunity was given to try
the effect of this resolution, an act having passed in two years
afterwards, which has altogether taken away the exemption
from legal process, except as to the immunity from personal
arrest, which still continues to be the privilege of both houses
of parliament.[383]
3. A more important class of offences against privilege is of
such as affect either house of parliament collectively. In the
reign of Elizabeth we have an instance of one committed for
disrespectful words against the Commons. A few others, either
for words spoken or published libels, occur in the reign of Charles
I. even before the long parliament; but those of 1641 can have
little weight as precedents, and we may say nearly the same of
the unjustifiable proceedings in 1680. Even since the revolution
we find too many proofs of encroaching pride or intemperate
passion, to which a numerous assembly is always prone, and
which the prevalent doctrine of the house's absolute power in
matters of privilege has not contributed much to restrain. The
most remarkable may be briefly noticed.
The Commons of 1701, wherein a tory spirit was strongly
predominant, by what were deemed its factious delays in voting
supplies, and in seconding the measures of the king for the
security of Europe, had exasperated all those who saw the
nation's safety in vigorous preparations for war, and led at last
to the most angry resolution of the Lords, which one house of
parliament in a matter not affecting its privileges has ever
recorded against the other.[384]
The grand jury of Kent, and other
freeholders of the county, presented accordingly a petition on
the 8th of May 1701, imploring them to turn their loyal addresses
into bills of supply (the only phrase in the whole petition that
could be construed into disrespect), and to enable his majesty
to assist his allies before it should be too late. The tory faction
was wrought to fury by this honest remonstrance. They voted
that the petition was scandalous, insolent, and seditious, tending
to destroy the constitution of parliament, and to subvert the
established government of this realm; and ordered that Mr.
Colepepper, who had been most forward in presenting the
petition, and all others concerned in it, should be taken into
custody of the serjeant.[385]
Though no attempt was made on
this occasion to call the authority of the house into question
by habeas corpus or other legal remedy, it was discussed in
pamphlets and in general conversation, with little advantage
to a power so arbitrary, and so evidently abused in the
immediate instance.[386]
A very few years after this high exercise of authority, it was
called forth in another case, still more remarkable and even less
warrantable. The House of Commons had an undoubted right
of determining all disputed returns to the writ of election, and
consequently of judging upon the right of every vote. But,
as the house could not pretend that it had given this right, or
that it was not, like any other franchise, vested in the possessor
by a legal title, no pretext of reason or analogy could be set up
for denying that it might also come, in an indirect manner at
least, before a court of justice, and be judged by the common
principles of law. One Ashby, however, a burgess of Aylesbury,
having sued the returning officer for refusing his vote; and three
judges of the king's bench, against the opinion of Chief-Justice
Holt, having determined for different reasons that it did not lie,
a writ of error was brought in the House of Lords, when the
judgment was reversed. The House of Commons took this up
indignantly, and passed various resolutions, asserting their
exclusive right to take cognisance of all matters relating to the
election of their members. The Lords repelled these by contrary
resolutions; That by the known laws of this kingdom, every
person having a right to give his vote, and being wilfully denied
by the officer who ought to receive it, may maintain an action
against such officer to recover damage for the injury; That the
contrary assertion is destructive of the property of the subject,
and tends to encourage corruption and partiality in returning
officers; That the declaring persons guilty of breach of privilege
for prosecuting such actions, or for soliciting and pleading in
them, is a manifest assuming a power to control the law, and
hinder the course of justice, and subject the property of Englishmen
to the arbitrary votes of the House of Commons. They
ordered a copy of these resolutions to be sent to all the sheriffs,
and to be communicated by them to all the boroughs in their
respective counties.
A prorogation soon afterwards followed, but served only to
give breathing time to the exasperated parties; for it must be
observed, that though a sense of dignity and privilege no doubt
swelled the majorities in each house, the question was very
much involved in the general whig and tory course of politics.
But Ashby, during the recess, having proceeded to execution on
his judgment, and some other actions having been brought
against the returning officer of Aylesbury, the Commons again
took it up, and committed the parties to Newgate. They moved
the court of king's bench for a habeas corpus; upon the return
to which, the judges, except Holt, thought themselves not
warranted to set them at liberty against the commitment of the
house.[387]
It was threatened to bring this by writ of error before
the Lords; and, in the disposition of that assembly, it seems
probable that they would have inflicted a severe wound on the
privileges of the lower house, which must in all probability have
turned out a sort of suicide upon their own. But the Commons
interposed by resolving to commit to prison the counsel and
agents concerned in prosecuting the habeas corpus, and by
addressing the queen not to grant a writ of error. The queen
properly answered, that as this matter, relating to the course of
judicial proceedings, was of the highest consequence, she thought
it necessary to weigh very carefully what she should do. The
Lords came to some important resolutions: That neither house
of parliament hath any power by any vote or declaration to
create to themselves any new privilege that is not warranted by
the known laws and customs of parliament; That the House
of Commons, in committing to Newgate certain persons for
prosecuting an action at law, upon pretence that their so doing
was contrary to a declaration, a contempt of the jurisdiction,
and a breach of the privileges of that house, have assumed to
themselves alone a legislative power, by pretending to attribute
the force of law to their declaration, have claimed a jurisdiction
not warranted by the constitution, and have assumed a new
privilege, to which they can show no title by the law and custom
of parliament; and have thereby, as far as in them lies, subjected
the rights of Englishmen, and the freedom of their persons, to the
arbitrary votes of the House of Commons; That every Englishman,
who is imprisoned by any authority whatsoever, has an
undoubted right to a writ of habeas corpus, in order to obtain
his liberty by the due course of law; That for the House of
Commons to punish any person for assisting a prisoner to procure
such a writ is an attempt of dangerous consequence, and a breach
of the statutes provided for the liberty of the subject; That a
writ of error is not of grace but of right, and ought not to be
denied to the subject when duly applied for, though at the
request of either house of parliament.
These vigorous resolutions produced a conference between
the houses, which was managed with more temper than might
have been expected from the tone taken on both sides. But,
neither of them receding in the slightest degree, the Lords
addressed the queen, requesting her to issue the writs of error
demanded upon the refusal of the king's bench to discharge
the parties committed by the House of Commons. The queen
answered the same day, that she should have granted the writs
of error desired by them, but finding an absolute necessity of
putting an immediate end to the session, she was sensible there
could have been no further proceeding upon them. The meaning
of this could only be, that by a prorogation all commitments
by order of the lower house of parliament are determined, so
that the parties could stand in no need of a habeas corpus. But
a great constitutional question was thus wholly eluded.[388]
We may reckon the proceedings against Mr. Alexander
Murray, in 1751, among the instances wherein the House of
Commons has been hurried by passion to an undue violence.
This gentleman had been active in a contested Westminster
election, on an anti-ministerial and perhaps jacobite interest.
In the course of an inquiry before the house, founded on a
petition against the return, the high-bailiff named Mr. Murray
as having insulted him in the execution of his duty. The house
resolved to hear Murray by counsel in his defence, and the high-bailiff
also by counsel in support of the charge, and ordered the
former to give bail for his appearance from time to time. These,
especially the last, were innovations on the practice of parliament,
and were justly opposed by the more cool-headed men.
After hearing witnesses on both sides, it was resolved that
Murray should be committed to Newgate, and should receive
this sentence upon his knees. This command he steadily
refused to obey, and thus drew on himself a storm of wrath at
such insolence and audacity. But the times were no more,
when the Commons could inflict whippings and pillories on the
refractory; and they were forced to content themselves with
ordering that no person should be admitted to him in prison,
which, on account of his ill-health, they soon afterwards relaxed.
The public voice is never favourable to such arbitrary exertions
of mere power: at the expiration of the session, Mr. Murray,
thus grown from an intriguing jacobite into a confessor of
popular liberty, was attended home by a sort of triumphal
procession amidst the applause of the people. In the next
session he was again committed on the same charge; a proceeding
extremely violent and arbitrary.[389]
It has been always deemed a most important and essential
privilege of the houses of parliament, that they may punish in
this summary manner by commitment all those who disobey
their orders to attend as witnesses, or for any purposes of their
constitutional duties. No inquiry could go forward before the
house at large or its committees, without this power to enforce
obedience; especially when the information is to be extracted
from public officers against the secret wishes of the court. It
is equally necessary (or rather more so, since evidence not being
on oath in the lower house, there can be no punishment in the
course of law) that the contumacy or prevarication of witnesses
should incur a similar penalty. No man would seek to take
away this authority from parliament, unless he is either very
ignorant of what has occurred in other times and his own, or
is a slave in the fetters of some general theory.
But far less can be advanced for several exertions of power
on record in the journals, which under the name of privilege
must be reckoned by impartial men irregularities and encroachments,
capable only at some periods of a kind of apology from
the unsettled state of the constitution. The Commons began,
in the famous or infamous case of Floyd, to arrogate a power
of animadverting upon political offences, which was then
wrested from them by the upper house. But in the first parliament
of Charles I. they committed Montagu (afterwards the
noted semi-popish bishop) to the serjeant, on account of a
published book, containing doctrines they did not approve.[390]
For this was evidently the main point, though he was also
charged with reviling two persons who had petitioned the house,
which bore a distant resemblance to a contempt. In the long
parliament, even from its commencement, every boundary was
swept away; it was sufficient to have displeased the majority
by act or word; but no precedents can be derived from a crisis
of force struggling against force. If we descend to the reign of
William III., it will be easy to discover instances of commitments,
laudable in their purpose, but of such doubtful legality
and dangerous consequence that no regard to the motive should
induce us to justify the precedent. Graham and Burton, the
solicitors of the treasury in all the worst state prosecutions
under Charles and James, and Jenner, a baron of the exchequer,
were committed to the Tower by the council immediately after
the king's proclamation, with an intention of proceeding criminally
against them. Some months afterwards, the suspension
of the habeas corpus, which had taken place by bill, having
ceased, they moved the king's bench to admit them to bail;
but the House of Commons took this up, and, after a report of
a committee as to precedents, put them in custody of the
serjeant at arms.[391]
On complaints of abuses in victualling the
navy, the commissioners of that department were sent for in
the serjeant's custody, and only released on bail ten days afterwards.[392]
But, without minutely considering the questionable
instances of privilege that we may regret to find, I will select
one wherein the House of Commons appear to have gone far
beyond either the reasonable or customary limits of privilege,
and that with very little pretext of public necessity. In the
reign of George I., a newspaper called Mist's Journal was
notorious as the organ of the jacobite faction. A passage full
of the most impudent longings for the Pretender's restoration
having been laid before the house, it was resolved, May 28,
1721, "that the said paper is a false, malicious, scandalous,
infamous, and traitorous libel, tending to alienate the affections
of his majesty's subjects, and to excite the people to sedition
and rebellion, with an intention to subvert the present happy
establishment, and to introduce popery and arbitrary power."
They went on after this resolution to commit the printer Mist
to Newgate, and to address the king that the authors and
publishers of the libel might be prosecuted.[393]
It is to be observed
that no violation of privilege either was, or indeed could be
alleged as the ground of this commitment; which seems to
imply that the house conceived itself to be invested with a
general power, at least in all political misdemeanours.
I have not observed any case more recent than this of Mist,
wherein any one has been committed on a charge which could
not possibly be interpreted on a contempt of the house, or a
breach of its privilege. It became however the practice, without
previously addressing the king, to direct a prosecution by
the attorney-general for offences of a public nature, which the
Commons had learned in the course of any inquiry, or which had
been formally laid before them.[394]
This seems to have been
introduced about the beginning of the reign of Anne, and is
undoubtedly a far more constitutional course than that of
arbitrary punishment by overstraining their privilege. In
some instances, libels have been publicly burned by the order
of one or other house of parliament.
I have principally adverted to the powers exerted by the
lower house of parliament, in punishing those guilty of violating
their privileges. It will of course be understood that the Lords
are at least equal in authority. In some respects indeed they
have gone beyond. I do not mean that they would be supposed
at present to have cognisance of any offence whatever, upon
which the Commons could not animadvert. Notwithstanding
what they claimed in the case of Floyd, the subsequent denial
by the Commons, and abandonment by themselves, of any
original jurisdiction, must stand in the way of their assuming
such authority over misdemeanours, more extensively at least
than the Commons, as has been shown, have in some instances
exercised it. But, while the latter have, with very few exceptions,
and none since the restoration, contented themselves with
commitment during the session, the Lords have sometimes
imposed fines, and, on some occasions in the reign of George II.,
as well as later, have adjudged parties to imprisonment for
a certain time. In one instance, so late as that reign, they
sentenced a man to the pillory; and this had been done several
times before. The judgments however of earlier ages give far
less credit to the jurisdiction than they take from it. Besides
the ever memorable case of Floyd, one John Blount, about the
same time (27th Nov. 1621), was sentenced by the Lords to
imprisonment and hard labour in Bridewell during life.[395]
Privileges of the house not controllable by courts of law.—It may
surprise those who have heard of the happy balance of the
English constitution, of the responsibility of every man to the
law, and of the security of the subject from all unlimited power,
especially as to personal freedom, that this power of awarding
punishment at discretion of the houses of parliament is generally
reputed to be universal and uncontrollable. This indeed was
by no means received at the time when the most violent usurpations
under the name of privilege were first made; the power
was questioned by the royalist party who became its victims,
and, among others, by the gallant Welshman, Judge Jenkins,
whom the long parliament had shut up in the Tower. But
it has been several times brought into discussion before the
ordinary tribunals; and the result has been, that if the power
of parliament is not unlimited in right, there is at least no
remedy provided against its excesses.
The House of Lords in 1677 committed to the Tower four
peers, among whom was the Earl of Shaftesbury, for a high
contempt; that is, for calling in question, during a debate, the
legal continuance of parliament after a prorogation of more
than twelve months. Shaftesbury moved the court of king's
bench to release him upon a writ of habeas corpus. But the
judges were unanimously of opinion that they had no jurisdiction
to inquire into a commitment by the Lords of one of
their body, or to discharge the party during the session, even
though there might be, as appears to have been the case, such
technical informality on the face of the commitment as would
be sufficient in an ordinary case to set it aside.[396]
Lord Shaftesbury was at this time in vehement opposition to
the court. Without insinuating that this had any effect upon
the judges, it is certain that a few years afterwards they were
less inclined to magnify the privileges of parliament. Some
who had been committed, very wantonly and oppressively, by
the Commons in 1680, under the name of abhorrers, brought
actions for false imprisonment against Topham, the serjeant-at-arms.
In one of these he put in what is called a plea to
the jurisdiction, denying the competence of the court of king's
bench, inasmuch as the alleged trespass had been done by order
of the knights, citizens, and burgesses of parliament. But the
judges overruled this plea, and ordered him to plead in bar to
the action. We do not find that Topham complied with this;
at least judgments appear to have passed against him in these
actions.[397]
The Commons, after the revolution, entered on the
subject, and summoned two of the late judges, Pemberton and
Jones, to their bar. Pemberton answered that he remembered
little of the case; but if the defendant should plead that he did
arrest the plaintiff by order of the house, and should plead that
to the jurisdiction of the king's bench, he thought, with submission,
he could satisfy the house that such a plea ought to
be overruled, and that he took the law to be so very clearly.
The house pressed for his reasons, which he rather declined to
give. But on a subsequent day he fully admitted that the order
of the house was sufficient to take any one into custody, but
that it ought to be pleaded in bar, and not to the jurisdiction,
which would be of no detriment to the party, nor affect his
substantial defence. It did not appear however that he had
given any intimation from the bench of so favourable a leaning
towards the rights of parliament; and his present language
might not uncharitably be ascribed to the change of times.
The house resolved that the orders and proceedings of this
house being pleaded to the jurisdiction of the court of king's
bench, ought not to be overruled; that the judges had been
guilty of a breach of privilege, and should be taken into custody.[398]
I have already mentioned that, in the course of the controversy
between the two houses on the case of Ashby and White,
the Commons had sent some persons to Newgate, for suing the
returning officer of Aylesbury in defiance of their resolutions;
and that, on their application to the king's bench to be discharged
on their habeas corpus, the majority of the judges had
refused it. Three judges, Powis, Gould, and Powell, held that
the courts of Westminster Hall could have no power to judge
of the commitments of the houses of parliament; that they had
no means of knowing what were the privileges of the Commons,
and consequently could not know their boundaries; that the
law and custom of parliament stood on its own basis, and was
not to be decided by the general rules of law; that no one had
ever been discharged from such a commitment, which was an
argument that it could not be done. Holt, the chief justice,
on the other hand, maintained that no privilege of parliament
could destroy a man's right, such as that of bringing an action
for a civil injury; that neither house of parliament could
separately dispose of the liberty and property of the people,
which could only be done by the whole legislature; that the
judges were bound to take notice of the customs of parliament,
because they are part of the law of the land, and might as well
be learned as any other part of the law. "It is the law," he
said, "that gives the queen her prerogative; it is the law gives
jurisdiction to the House of Lords, as it is the law limits the
jurisdiction of the House of Commons." The eight other judges
having been consulted, though not judicially, are stated to have
gone along with the majority of the court, in holding that a
commitment by either house of parliament was not cognisable
at law. But from some of the resolutions of the Lords on this
occasion which I have quoted above, it may seem probable that,
if a writ of error had been ever heard before them, they would
have leaned to the doctrine of Holt, unless indeed withheld by
the reflection that a similar principle might easily be extended
to themselves.[399]
It does not appear that any commitment for breach of
privilege was disputed until the year 1751; when Mr. Alexander
Murray, of whom mention has been made, caused himself to be
brought before the court of king's bench on a habeas corpus.
But the judges were unanimous in refusing to discharge him.
"The House of Commons," said Mr. Justice Wright, "is a high
court, and it is agreed on all hands that they have power to
judge of their own privileges; it need not appear to us what the
contempt is for; if it did appear, we could not judge thereof."—"This
court," said Mr. Justice Denison, "has no jurisdiction
in the present case. We granted the habeas corpus, not knowing
what the commitment was; but now it appears to be for
a contempt of the privileges of the House of Commons. What
the privileges of either house are we do not know; nor need
they tell us what the contempt was, because we cannot judge
of it; for I must call this court inferior to the Commons with
respect to judging of their privileges, and contempts against
them." Mr. Justice Foster agreed with the two others, that
the house could commit for a contempt, which, he said, "Holt
had never denied in such a case as this before them."[400]
It would
be unnecessary to produce later cases which have occurred since
the reign of George II., and elicited still stronger expressions
from the judges of their incapacity to take cognisance of what
may be done by the Houses of Parliament.
Notwithstanding such imposing authorities, there have not
been wanting some who have thought that the doctrine of
uncontrollable privilege is both eminently dangerous in a free
country, and repugnant to the analogy of our constitution. The
manly language of Lord Holt[401]
has seemed to rest on better principles
of public utility, and even perhaps of positive law. It
is not however to be inferred that the right of either house
of parliament to commit persons, even not of their own body,
to prison, for contempts or breaches of privilege, ought to be
called in question. In some cases this authority is as beneficial,
and even indispensable, as it is ancient and established. Nor
do I by any means pretend that if the warrant of commitment
merely recites the party to have been guilty of a contempt or
breach of privilege, the truth of such allegation could be
examined upon a return to a writ of habeas corpus, any more
than in an ordinary case of felony. Whatever injustice may thus
be done cannot have redress by any legal means; because the
House of Commons (or the Lords, as it may be) are the fit judges
of the fact, and must be presumed to have determined it according
to right.
But it is a more doubtful question, whether, if they should
pronounce an offence to be a breach of privilege, as in the
case of the Aylesbury men, which a court of justice should
perceive to be clearly none, or if they should commit a man on
a charge of misdemeanour, and for no breach of privilege at all,
as in the case of Mist the printer, such excesses of jurisdiction
might not legally be restrained by the judges. If the resolutions
of the Lords in the business of Ashby and White are constitutional
and true, neither house of parliament can create to itself
any new privilege; a proposition surely so consonant to the
rules of English law, which require prescription or statute as
the basis for every right, that few will dispute it; and it must
be still less lawful to exercise a jurisdiction over misdemeanours,
by committing a party who would regularly be only held to
bail on such a charge. Of this I am very certain, that if Mist,
in the year 1721, had applied for his discharge on a habeas
corpus, it would have been far more difficult to have opposed
it on the score of precedent or of constitutional right, than it
was for the attorney-general of Charles I., nearly one hundred
years before, to resist the famous arguments of Selden and
Littleton, in the case of the Buckinghamshire gentlemen committed
by the council. If a few scattered acts of power can
make such precedents as a court of justice must take as its rule,
I am sure the decision, neither in this case nor in that of ship-money,
was so unconstitutional as we usually suppose: it was
by dwelling on all authorities in favour of liberty, and by
setting aside those which made against it, that our ancestors
overthrew the claims of unbounded prerogative. Nor is this
parallel less striking when we look at the tone of implicit obedience,
respect, and confidence with which the judges of the
eighteenth century have spoken of the houses of parliament, as
if their sphere were too low for the cognisance of such a transcendant
authority.[402]
The same language, almost to the words,
was heard from the lips of the Hydes and Berkeleys in the
preceding age, in reference to the king and to the privy council.
But as, when the spirit of the government was almost wholly
monarchical, so since it has turned chiefly to an aristocracy,
the courts of justice have been swayed towards the predominant
influence, not, in general, by any undue motives, but because
it is natural for them to support power, to shun offence, and to
shelter themselves behind precedent. They have also sometimes
had in view the analogy of parliamentary commitments
to their own power of attachment for contempt, which they
hold to be equally uncontrollable; a doctrine by no means so
dangerous to the subject's liberty, but liable also to no trifling
objections.[403]
The consequences of this utter irresponsibility in each of the
two houses will appear still more serious, when we advert to the
unlimited power of punishment which it draws with it. The
Commons indeed do not pretend to imprison beyond the session;
but the Lords have imposed fines and definite imprisonment;
and attempts to resist these have been unsuccessful.[404]
If the
matter is to rest upon precedent, or upon what overrides precedent
itself, the absolute failure of jurisdiction in the ordinary
courts, there seems nothing (decency and discretion excepted)
to prevent their repeating the sentences of James I.'s reign,
whipping, branding, hard labour for life. Nay, they might order
the usher of the black rod to take a man from their bar, and
hang him up in the lobby. Such things would not be done, and,
being done, would not be endured; but it is much that any sworn
ministers of the law should, even by indefinite language, have
countenanced the legal possibility of tyrannous power in
England. The temper of government itself, in modern times,
has generally been mild; and this is probably the best ground
of confidence in the discretion of parliament; but popular, that
is, numerous bodies, are always prone to excess, both from the
reciprocal influences of their passions, and the consciousness of
irresponsibility; for which reasons a democracy, that is, the
absolute government of the majority, is in general the most
tyrannical of any. Public opinion, it is true, in this country,
imposes a considerable restraint; yet this check is somewhat
less powerful in that branch of the legislature which has gone
the farthest in chastising breaches of privilege. I would not be
understood, however, to point at any more recent discussions on
this subject; were it not, indeed, beyond the limits prescribed
to me, it might be shown that the House of Commons, in asserting
its jurisdiction, has receded from much of the arbitrary
power which it once arrogated, and which some have been
disposed to bestow upon it.
IV. It is commonly and justly said that civil liberty is not
only consistent with, but in its terms implies, the restrictive
limitations of natural liberty which are imposed by law. But,
as these are not the less real limitations of liberty, it can hardly
be maintained that the subject's condition is not impaired by
very numerous restraints upon his will, even without reference
to their expediency. The price may be well paid; but it is still
a price that it costs some sacrifice to pay. Our statutes have
been growing in bulk and multiplicity with the regular session
of parliament, and with the new system of government; all
abounding with prohibitions and penalties, which every man is
presumed to know, but which no man, the judges themselves
included, can really know with much exactness. We literally
walk amidst the snares and pitfalls of the law. The very
doctrine of the more rigid casuists, that men are bound in conscience
to observe all the laws of their country, has become
impracticable through their complexity and inconvenience; and
most of us are content to shift off their penalties in the mala
prohibita with as little scruple as some feel in risking those
of graver offences. But what more peculiarly belongs to the
present subject is the systematic encroachment upon ancient
constitutional principles, which has for a long time been made
through new enactments, proceeding from the Crown, chiefly in
respect to the revenue.[405]
These may be traced indeed in the
statute-book, at least as high as the restoration, and really
began in the arbitrary times of revolution which preceded it.
They have, however, been gradually extended along with the
public burthens, and as the severity of these has prompted fresh
artifices of evasion. It would be curious, but not within the
scope of this work, to analyse our immense fiscal law, and to
trace the history of its innovations. These consist, partly in
taking away the cognisance of offences against the revenue from
juries, whose partiality in such cases there was in truth much
reason to apprehend, and vesting it either in commissioners of
the revenue itself or in magistrates; partly in anomalous and
somewhat arbitrary power with regard to the collection; partly
in deviations from the established rules of pleading and evidence,
by throwing on the accused party in fiscal causes the burthen
of proving his innocence, or by superseding the necessity of
rigorous proof as to matters wherein it is ordinarily required;
and partly in shielding the officers of the Crown, as far as
possible, from their responsibility for illegal actions, by permitting
special circumstances of justification to be given in
evidence without being pleaded, or by throwing impediments of
various kinds in the way of the prosecutor, or by subjecting him
to unusual costs in the event of defeat.
Extension of penal laws.—These restraints upon personal
liberty, and what is worse, these endeavours, as they seem, to
prevent the fair administration of justice between the Crown
and the subject, have in general, more especially in modern
times, excited little regard as they have passed through the
houses of parliament. A sad necessity has over-ruled the
maxims of ancient law; nor is it my business to censure our
fiscal code, but to point out that it is to be counted as a set-off
against the advantages of the revolution, and has in fact
diminished the freedom and justice which we claim for our
polity. And, that its provisions have sometimes gone so far
as to give alarm to not very susceptible minds, may be shown
from a remarkable debate in the year 1737. A bill having been
brought in by the ministers to prevent smuggling, which contained
some unusual clauses, it was strongly opposed, among
other peers, by Lord Chancellor Talbot himself, of course, in the
cabinet, and by Lord Hardwicke, then chief justice, a regularly
bred Crown lawyer, and in his whole life disposed to hold very
high the authority of government. They objected to a clause
subjecting any three persons travelling with arms, to the penalty
of transportation, on proof by two witnesses that their intention
was to assist in the clandestine landing, or carrying away prohibited
or uncustomed goods. "We have in our laws," said one
of the opposing lords, "no such thing as a crime by implication,
nor can a malicious intention ever be proved by witnesses.
Facts only are admitted to be proved, and from those facts the
judge and jury are to determine with what intention they were
committed; but no judge or jury can ever, by our laws, suppose,
much less determine, that an action, in itself innocent or indifferent,
was attended with a criminal and malicious intention.
Another security for our liberties is, that no subject can be
imprisoned unless some felonious and high crime be sworn
against him. This, with respect to private men, is the very
foundation stone of all our liberties; and, if we remove it, if we
but knock off a corner, we may probably overturn the whole
fabric. A third guard for our liberties is that right which every
subject has, not only to provide himself with arms proper for his
defence, but to accustom himself to the use of those arms, and to
travel with them whenever he has a mind." But the clause in
question, it was contended, was repugnant to all the maxims of
free government. No presumption of a crime could be drawn
from the mere wearing of arms, an act not only innocent, but
highly commendable; and therefore the admitting of witnesses
to prove that any of these men were armed, in order to assist in
smuggling, would be the admitting of witnesses to prove an
intention, which was inconsistent with the whole tenor of our
laws.[406]
They objected to another provision, subjecting a party
against whom information should be given that he intended to
assist in smuggling, to imprisonment without bail, though the
offence itself were in its nature bailable; to another, which
made informations for assault upon officers of the revenue
triable in any county of England; and to a yet more startling
protection thrown round the same favoured class, that the
magistrates should be bound to admit them to bail on charges
of killing or wounding any one in the execution of their duty.
The bill itself was carried by no great majority; and the
provisions subsist at this day, or perhaps have received a
further extension.
It will thus appear to every man who takes a comprehensive
view of our constitutional history, that the executive government,
though shorn of its lustre, has not lost so much of its real efficacy
by the consequences of the revolution as is often supposed; at
least, that with a regular army to put down insurrection, and
an influence sufficient to obtain fresh statutes of restriction, if
such should ever be deemed necessary, it is not exposed, in the
ordinary course of affairs, to any serious hazard. But we must
here distinguish the executive government, using that word in
its largest sense, from the Crown itself, or the personal authority
of the sovereign. This is a matter of rather delicate inquiry,
but too material to be passed by.
Diminution of personal authority of the Crown.—The real power
of the prince, in the most despotic monarchy, must have its limits
from nature, and bear some proportion to his courage, his
activity, and his intellect. The tyrants of the East become
puppets or slaves of their vizirs; or it turns to a game of cunning,
wherein the winner is he who shall succeed in tying the
bow-string round the other's neck. After some ages of feeble
monarchs, the titular royalty is found wholly separated from
the power of command, and glides on to posterity in its languid
channel, till some usurper or conqueror stops up the stream for
ever. In the civilised kingdoms of Europe, those very institutions
which secure the permanence of royal families, and afford
them a guarantee against manifest subjection to a minister, take
generally out of the hands of the sovereign the practical government
of his people. Unless his capacities are above the level
of ordinary kings, he must repose on the wisdom and diligence
of the statesmen he employs, with the sacrifice, perhaps, of his
own prepossessions in policy, and against the bent of his personal
affections. The power of a king of England is not to be compared
with an ideal absoluteness, but with that which could be
enjoyed in the actual state of society by the same person in a
less bounded monarchy.
The descendants of William the Conqueror on the English
throne, down to the end of the seventeenth century, have been
a good deal above the average in those qualities which enable
or at least induce, kings to take on themselves a large share of
the public administration; as will appear by comparing their
line with that of the house of Capet, or perhaps most others
during an equal period. Without going farther back, we know
that Henry VII., Henry VIII., Elizabeth, the four kings of the
house of Stuart, though not always with as much ability as
diligence, were the master-movers of their own policy, not very
susceptible of advice, and always sufficiently acquainted with
the details of government to act without it. This was eminently
the case also with William III., who was truly his own minister,
and much better fitted for that office than those who served
him. The king, according to our constitution, is supposed to be
present in council, and was in fact usually, or very frequently,
present, so long as the council remained as a deliberative body
for matters of domestic and foreign policy. But, when a junto
or cabinet came to supersede that ancient and responsible
body, the king himself ceased to preside, and received their
advice separately, according to their respective functions of
treasurer, secretary, or chancellor, or that of the whole
cabinet through one of its leading members. This change
however was gradual; for cabinet councils were sometimes
held in the presence of William and Anne; to which other
counsellors, not strictly of that select number, were occasionally
summoned.
But on the accession of the house of Hanover, this personal
superintendence of the sovereign necessarily came to an end.
The fact is hardly credible that, George I. being incapable of
speaking English, as Sir Robert Walpole was of conversing in
French, the monarch and his minister held discourse with each
other in Latin.[407]
It is impossible that, with so defective a means
of communication (for Walpole, though by no means an illiterate
man, cannot be supposed to have spoken readily a language very
little familiar in this country), George could have obtained much
insight into his domestic affairs, or been much acquainted with
the characters of his subjects. We know, in truth, that he
nearly abandoned the consideration of both, and trusted his
ministers with the entire management of this kingdom, content
to employ its great name for the promotion of his electoral
interests. This continued in a less degree to be the case with
his son, who, though better acquainted with the language and
circumstances of Great Britain, and more jealous of his prerogative,
was conscious of his incapacity to determine on matters
of domestic government, and reserved almost his whole attention
for the politics of Germany.
Party connections.—The broad distinctions of party contributed
to weaken the real supremacy of the sovereign. It had
been usual before the revolution, and in the two succeeding
reigns, to select ministers individually at discretion; and,
though some might hold themselves at liberty to decline office,
it was by no means deemed a point of honour and fidelity to
do so. Hence men in the possession of high posts had no strong
bond of union, and frequently took opposite sides on public
measures of no light moment. The queen particularly was
always loth to discard a servant on account of his vote in parliament;
a conduct generous perhaps, but feeble, inconvenient,
when carried to such excess, in our constitution, and in effect
holding out a reward to ingratitude and treachery. But the
whigs having come exclusively into office under the line of
Hanover (which, as I have elsewhere observed, was inevitable),
formed a sort of phalanx, which the Crown was not always able
to break, and which never could have been broken, but for that
internal force of repulsion by which personal cupidity and
ambition are ever tending to separate the elements of factions.
It became the point of honour among public men to fight uniformly
under the same banner, though not perhaps for the same
cause; if indeed there was any cause really fought for, but the
advancement of a party. In this preference of certain denominations,
or of certain leaders, to the real principles which ought
to be the basis of political consistency, there was an evident
deviation from the true standard of public virtue; but the
ignominy attached to the dereliction of friends for the sake of
emolument, though it was every day incurred, must have tended
gradually to purify the general character of parliament. Meanwhile
the Crown lost all that party attachments gained; a truth
indisputable on reflection, though while the Crown and the party
in power act in the same direction, the relative efficiency of the
two forces is not immediately estimated. It was seen, however,
very manifestly in the year 1746; when, after long bickering
between the Pelhams and Lord Granville, the king's favourite
minister, the former, in conjunction with a majority of the
cabinet, threw up their offices, and compelled the king, after
an abortive effort at a new administration, to sacrifice his
favourite, and replace those in power whom he could not exclude
from it. The same took place in a later period of his reign,
when after many struggles he submitted to the ascendency of
Mr. Pitt.[408]
It seems difficult for any king of England, however conscientiously
observant of the lawful rights of his subjects, and
of the limitations they impose on his prerogative, to rest always
very content with this practical condition of the monarchy.
The choice of his counsellors, the conduct of government, are
intrusted, he will be told, by the constitution to his sole pleasure.
Yet both in the one and the other he finds a perpetual disposition
to restrain his exercise of power; and, though it is easy to
demonstrate that the public good is far better promoted by the
virtual control of parliament and the nation over the whole
executive government, than by adhering to the letter of the
constitution, it is not to be expected that the argument will
be conclusive to a royal understanding. Hence, he may be
tempted to play rather a petty game, and endeavour to regain,
by intrigue and insincerity, that power of acting by his own
will, which he thinks unfairly wrested from him. A king of
England, in the calculations of politics, is little more than one
among the public men of the day; taller indeed, like Saul or
Agamemnon, by the head and shoulders, and therefore with no
slight advantages in the scramble; but not a match for the
many, unless he can bring some dexterity to second his strength,
and make the best of the self-interest and animosities of those
with whom he has to deal. And of this there will generally be
so much, that in the long run he will be found to succeed in
the greater part of his desires. Thus George I. and George II.,
in whom the personal authority seems to have been at the
lowest point it has ever reached, drew their ministers, not always
willingly, into that course of continental politics which was
supposed to serve the purposes of Hanover far better than of
England. It is well known that the Walpoles and the Pelhams
condemned in private this excessive predilection of their masters
for their native country, which alone could endanger their
English throne.[409]
Yet after the two latter brothers had inveighed
against Lord Granville, and driven him out of power
for seconding the king's pertinacity in continuing the war of
1743, they went on themselves in the same track for at least
two years, to the imminent hazard of losing for ever the Low
Countries and Holland, if the French government, so indiscriminately
charged with ambition, had not displayed extraordinary
moderation at the treaty of Aix la Chapelle. The
twelve years that ensued gave more abundant proofs of the
submissiveness with which the schemes of George II. for the
good of Hanover were received by his ministers, though not by
his people; but the most striking instance of all is the abandonment
by Mr. Pitt himself of all his former professions in pouring
troops into Germany. I do not inquire whether a sense of
national honour might not render some of these measures justifiable,
though none of them were advantageous; but it is certain
that the strong bent of the king's partiality forced them on
against the repugnance of most statesmen, as well as of the
great majority in parliament and out of it.
Comparatively however with the state of prerogative before
the revolution, we can hardly dispute that there has been a
systematic diminution of the reigning prince's control, which,
though it may be compensated or concealed in ordinary times
by the general influence of the executive administration, is of
material importance in a constitutional light. Independently
of other consequences which might be pointed out as probable
or contingent, it affords a real security against endeavours by
the Crown to subvert or essentially impair the other parts of
our government. For, though a king may believe himself and
his posterity to be interested in obtaining arbitrary power, it is
far less likely that a minister should desire to do so—I mean
arbitrary, not in relation to temporary or partial abridgments
of the subject's liberty, but to such projects as Charles I. and
James II. attempted to execute. What indeed might be effected
by a king, at once able, active, popular, and ambitious, should
such ever unfortunately appear in this country, it is not easy
to predict; certainly his reign would be dangerous, on one side
or other, to the present balance of the constitution. But
against this contingent evil, or the far more probable encroachments
of ministers, which, though not going the full length
of despotic power, might slowly undermine and contract the
rights of the people, no positive statutes can be devised so
effectual as the vigilance of the people themselves and their
increased means of knowing and estimating the measures of
their government.
Influence of political writings.—The publication of regular
newspapers, partly designed for the communication of intelligence,
partly for the discussion of political topics, may be
referred, upon the whole, to the reign of Anne, when they
obtained great circulation, and became the accredited organs
of different factions. The tory ministers, towards the close of
that reign, were annoyed at the vivacity of the press both in
periodical and other writings, which led to a stamp-duty,
intended chiefly to diminish their number, and was nearly
producing more pernicious restrictions, such as renewing the
licensing act, or compelling authors to acknowledge their names.[410]
These however did not take place, and the government more
honourably coped with their adversaries in the same warfare;
nor, with Swift and Bolingbroke on their side, could they
require, except indeed through the badness of their cause, any
aid from the arm of power.[411]
In a single hour these two great masters of language were
changed from advocates of the Crown to tribunes of the people;
both more distinguished as writers in this altered scene of their
fortunes, and certainly among the first political combatants
with the weapons of the press whom the world has ever known.
Bolingbroke's influence was of course greater in England; and,
with all the signal faults of his public character, with all the
factiousness which dictated most of his writings and the indefinite
declamation or shallow reasoning which they frequently
display, they have merits not always sufficiently acknowledged.
He seems first to have made the tories reject their old tenets
of exalted prerogative and hereditary right, and scorn the high-church
theories which they had maintained under William and
Anne. His Dissertation on Parties, and Letters on the History
of England, are in fact written on whig principles (if I know
what is meant by that name) in their general tendency; however
a politician, who had always some particular end in view,
may have fallen into several inconsistencies. The same character
is due to the Craftsman, and to most of the temporary
pamphlets directed against Sir Robert Walpole. They teemed,
it is true, with exaggerated declamations on the side of liberty;
but that was the side they took; it was to generous prejudices
they appealed, nor did they ever advert to the times before the
revolution but with contempt or abhorrence. Libels there were
indeed of a different class, proceeding from the jacobite school;
but these obtained little regard; the jacobites themselves, or
such as affected to be so, having more frequently espoused that
cause from a sense of dissatisfaction with the conduct of the
reigning family than from much regard to the pretensions of the
other. Upon the whole matter it must be evident to every
person who is at all conversant with the publications of George
II.'s reign, with the poems, the novels, the essays, and almost
all the literature of the time, that what are called the popular
or liberal doctrines of government were decidedly prevalent.
The supporters themselves of the Walpole and Pelham administrations,
though professedly whigs, and tenacious of revolution
principles, made complaints, both in parliament and in pamphlets,
of the democratical spirit, the insubordination to authority,
the tendency to republican sentiments, which they alleged to
have gained ground among the people. It is certain that
the tone of popular opinion gave some countenance to these
assertions, though much exaggerated to create alarm in the
aristocratical classes, and furnish arguments against redress of
abuses.
Publication of debates.—The two houses of parliament are
supposed to deliberate with closed doors. It is always competent
for any one member to insist that strangers be excluded;
not on any special ground, but by merely enforcing the standing
order for that purpose. It has been several times resolved, that
it is a high breach of privilege to publish any speeches or proceedings
of the Commons; though they have since directed
their own votes and resolutions to be printed. Many persons
have been punished by commitment for this offence; and it is
still highly irregular, in any debate, to allude to the reports in
newspapers, except for the purpose of animadverting on the
breach of privilege.[412]
Notwithstanding this pretended strictness,
notices of the more interesting discussions were frequently
made public; and entire speeches were sometimes circulated by
those who had sought popularity in delivering them. After
the accession of George I. we find a pretty regular account of
debates in an annual publication, Boyer's Historical Register,
which was continued to the year 1737. They were afterwards
published monthly, and much more at length, in the London
and the Gentleman's Magazines; the latter, as is well known,
improved by the pen of Johnson yet not so as to lose by any
means the leading scope of the arguments. It follows of course
that the restriction upon the presence of strangers had been
almost entirely dispensed with. A transparent veil was thrown
over this innovation by disguising the names of the speakers,
or more commonly by printing only initial and final letters.
This ridiculous affectation of concealment was extended to
many other words in political writings, and had not wholly
ceased in the American war.
It is almost impossible to over-rate the value of this regular
publication of proceedings in parliament, carried as it has been
in our own time to nearly as great copiousness and accuracy
as is probably attainable. It tends manifestly and powerfully
to keep within bounds the supineness and negligence, the
partiality and corruption, to which every parliament, either
from the nature of its composition or the frailty of mankind,
must more or less be liable. Perhaps the constitution would
not have stood so long, or rather would have stood like an useless
and untenanted mansion, if this unlawful means had not kept
up a perpetual intercourse, a reciprocity of influence between
the parliament and the people. A stream of fresh air, boisterous
perhaps sometimes as the winds of the north, yet as healthy and
invigorating, flows in to renovate the stagnant atmosphere, and
to prevent that malaria, which self-interest and oligarchical
exclusiveness are always tending to generate. Nor has its
importance been less perceptible in affording the means of
vindicating the measures of government, and securing to them,
when just and reasonable, the approbation of the majority
among the middle ranks, whose weight in the scale has been
gradually increasing during the last and present centuries.
Increased influence of the middle ranks.—This augmentation
of the democratical influence, using that term as applied to the
commercial and industrious classes in contradistinction to the
territorial aristocracy, was the slow but certain effect of accumulated
wealth and diffused knowledge, acting however on the
traditional notions of freedom and equality which had ever
prevailed in the English people. The nation, exhausted by
the long wars of William and Anne, recovered strength in thirty
years of peace that ensued; and in that period, especially under
the prudent rule of Walpole, the seeds of our commercial greatness
were gradually ripened. It was evidently the most prosperous
season that England had ever experienced; and the
progression, though slow, being uniform, the reign perhaps of
George II. might not disadvantageously be compared, for the
real happiness of the community, with that more brilliant but
uncertain and oscillatory condition which has ensued. A distinguished
writer has observed that the labourer's wages have
never, at least for many ages, commanded so large a portion of
subsistence as in this part of the eighteenth century.[413]
The
public debt, though it excited alarms from its magnitude, at
which we are now accustomed to smile, and though too little
care was taken for redeeming it, did not press very heavily on
the nation; as the low rate of interest evinces, the government
securities at three per cent. having generally stood above par.
In the war of 1743, which from the selfish practice of relying
wholly on loans did not much retard the immediate advance of
the country, and still more after the peace of Aix la Chapelle,
a striking increase of wealth became perceptible.[414]
This was
shown in one circumstance directly affecting the character of
the constitution. The smaller boroughs, which had been from
the earliest time under the command of neighbouring peers and
gentlemen, or sometimes of the Crown, were attempted by rich
capitalists, with no other connection or recommendation than
one which is generally sufficient. This appears to have been
first observed in the general election of 1747 and 1754;[415]
and
though the prevalence of bribery is attested by the statute-book,
and the journals of parliament from the revolution, it
seems not to have broken down all floodgates till near the end
of the reign of George II. The sale of seats in parliament, like
any other transferable property, is never mentioned in any book
that I remember to have seen of an earlier date than 1760. We
may dispense therefore with the enquiry in what manner this
extraordinary traffic has affected the constitution, observing
only that its influence must have tended to counteract that of
the territorial aristocracy, which is still sufficiently predominant.
The country gentlemen, who claimed to themselves a character
of more independence and patriotism than could be found in
any other class, had long endeavoured to protect their ascendancy
by excluding the rest of the community from parliament.
This was the principle of the bill, which, after being frequently
attempted, passed into a law during the tory administration of
Anne, requiring every member of the Commons, except those
for the universities, to possess, as a qualification for his seat, a
landed estate, above all incumbrances, of £300 a year.[416]
By a
later act of George II., with which it was thought expedient,
by the government of the day, to gratify the landed interest,
this property must be stated on oath by every member on
taking his seat, and, if required, at his election.[417]
The law is
however notoriously evaded; and though much might be urged
in favour of rendering a competent income the condition of
eligibility, few would be found at present to maintain that the
freehold qualification is not required both unconstitutionally,
according to the ancient theory of representation, and absurdly,
according to the present state of property in England. But I
am again admonished, as I have frequently been in writing these
last pages, to break off from subjects that might carry me too
far away from the business of this history; and, content with
compiling and selecting the records of the past, to shun the
difficult and ambitious office of judging the present, or of
speculating upon the future.