and in our own time, may be an useful instrument for paving the way to a throne; but an established sovereign will find economy a more certain means of keeping him in it. The emperor Nero was extolled for the felicity which he was diffusing by his bounty, while Rome was groaning under the burden of his exactions. That liberality which would make a prince necessitous and a people poor, would, by hurting his fame, weaken his influence; for reputation is power. After all, such a care and improvement of the revenue, as will enable him to spare his subjects, is the truest liberality in a prince.

But, to return. The distinguishing qualities of Elizabeth appear to have been economy, prudence, and moderation. Yet in some instances, the former was rigid, not to say unjust. Nor had her frugality always the purest motive. She was, it is true, very unwilling to trouble parliament for money, for which, indeed, they were extremely unwilling to be troubled; but her desire to keep herself independent of them seems to have been the motive for this forbearance. What she might have gained in supplies, she must have lost in power.

To her moderation, and that middle line of conduct which she observed, much of her success may be ascribed. To her moderation in the contests between papists and puritans, it is chiefly to be attributed, that the Reformation issued in a happier medium in England, than in any other country. To her moderation, in respect to foreign war, from which she was singularly averse, may be ascribed that rapid improvement at home which took place under her reign.

If we were to estimate Elizabeth as a private female, she would doubtless appear entitled to but little veneration. If as an instrument raised up by

* Particularly her keeping the see of Ely vacant nineteen years, in order to retain the revenue.

divine Providence to carry through the most arduous enterprises in the most difficult emergencies, we can hardly rate her too highly. We owe her much as Englishmen. As Protestants, what do we not owe her? If we look at the woman, we shall see much to blame; if at the sovereign, we shall see almost every thing to admire. Her great faults, though they derogated from her personal character, seldom deeply affected her administration. In one instance only, her favouritism was prejudicial to the state; her appointment of Leicester to the naval command, for which he was utterly unfit. On many occasions, as we have elsewhere observed, her very passions supplied what was wanting in principle. Thus, her violent attachments might have made her indiscriminately lavish, if they had not been counteracted by that parsimoniousness which never forsook her. Accordingly, in the midst of her lamentations for the death of Leicester, we see her grief did not make her forget to seize his goods, and to repay herself for what she had lent him.

Our censures, therefore, must not be lost in our admiration, nor must our gratitude warp our judgment. And it may be useful to inquire how it came to pass that Elizabeth, with so much power, so much prudence, and so much popularity, should at length become completely miserable, and die neglected and forsaken-her sun setting ingloriously after so bright a day of prosperity and honour?

May we not venture to attribute it to the defectiveness, not to say unsoundness, of her moral principles? Though corrupt principles for a certain period may conceal themselves, and even dazzle, by the success of the projects to which, in the view of superficial reasoners, they may have appeared conducive; they will, in a long course of action, betray their intrinsic weakness. They may not entirely have prevented the public good effects of other use

ful qualities with which they were associated; but they do most fatally operate against the personal honour of the individual; and against her reaping that harvest of gratitude and respect, to which she might otherwise have been so justly entitled.

Vanity was, too probably, the spring of some of Elizabeth's most admired actions; but the same vanity also produced that jealousy, which terminated in the death of Mary. It was the same vanity which led her first to court the admiration of Essex, and then to suffer him to fall a victim to her wounded pride. Her temper was uncontrolled. While we pardon her ignorance of the principles of liberty, we should not forget how little she respected the privileges of parliament, claiming a right of imprisoning its very members, without deigning to give any account of her proceedings.

Policy was her favourite science, but in that day a liberal policy was not understood and Elizabeth was too apt to substitute both simulation and dissimulation for an open and generous conduct. This dissimulation at length lost her the confidence of her subjects, and, while it inspired her with a distrust, it also forfeited the attachment, of her friends. Her insincerity, as was natural, infected those around her. The younger Cecil* himself was so far alienated from his royal mistress, and tainted with the prevailing spirit of intrigue, as to be secretly corresponding with her rival James.

That such mortifying occurrences were too likely to arise from the very nature of existing circumstances, where the dying prince was the last of her race, and the nearly vacant throne about to be pos

*Robert, earl of Salisbury, the second son of the illustrious Sir William Cecil, equalled his father in policy, though not in integrity. It was said of him, that he had the eyes of a lynx; and that, though little and deformed in body, he had a head capable of the greatest things. He died in 1612.-ED.

sessed by a stranger, must assuredly be allowed. But it may still be asserted, that nothing but deficiency of moral character could have so desolated the closing scene of an illustrious princess. Real virtue will, in every rank, draw upon it disinterested regard; and a truly virtuous sovereign will not be shut out from a more than ordinary share in this general blessing. It is honourable to human nature to see the dying William pressing to his bosom the hand of Bentinck ;* but it will be still more consolatory as well as instructive to compare, with the forsaken beath-bed of Elizabeth, the exemplary closing scene of the second Mary, as described by Burnet, an eye-witness of the affecting event which he relates.+

* William Bentinck, the first Earl of Portland, was a native of Holland, and came over with William the Third. He died in 1709.-ED.

Burnet's account is as follows:-" She received the intimations of approaching death with a firmness that did neither bind nor soften, under that which has made the strongest minds to tremble. Then, when even the most artificial grow sincere, it appeared how established a calm, and how sublime a piety, possessed her. A ready willingness to be dissolved, and an entire resignation to the will of God, did not forsake her one minute: nor had any thing been left to be despatched in her last hours. Her mind was in no hurry, but soft as the still voice that seemed to be calling her soul away to the regions above: so that she made her last steps with a stability and seriousness, that, how little ordinary soever they may be, were indeed the natural conclusions of such a life as she had led.

"How severely soever God intended to visit us, she was gently handled; she felt no inward depression, nor sinking of nature. She then declared that she felt in her mind the joys of a good conscience, and the powers of religion giving her support, which even the last agonies could not shake. Her constant softness to all about her never left her. That was indeed natural to her; but by it all saw visibly that nothing could put her mind out of its natural situation and usual methods. A few hours before she breathed her last, when he [the Bishop himself] who ministered to her in the best things, had continued long in attendance about her, she was so free

CHAPTER XIV.

Moral advantages to be derived from the study of history, independent of the examples it exhibits.-History proves the corruption of human nature.-It demonstrates the superintending power of Providence, illustrated by instances.

THE knowledge of great events and splendid characters, and even of the customs, laws, and manners of different nations; an acquaintance, however accurate, with the state of the arts, sciences, and commerce of those nations, important as is this in her thoughts, that, apprehending he might be weary, she commanded him to sit down, and repeated her orders till he obeyed them: a thing too mean in itself to be mentioned, but that it shewed the presence of her mind, as well as the sweetness of her temper. Prayer was then her constant exercise, as oft as she was awake; and so sensible was the refreshment that her mind found in it, that she thought it did her more good, and gave even her body more ease, than any thing that was done to her. Nature sunk apace: she resolved to furnish herself with the great viaticum of Christians, the last provisions for her journey. She received the blessed sacrament with a devotion that inflamed, as well as melted, all those who saw it. After that great act of church communion was over, she delivered herself up so entirely to meditation, that she seemed scarce to mind any thing else. She was then upon the wing. Such was her peace in her latter end, that though the symptoms shewed that nature was much oppressed, yet she scarce felt any uneasiness from it. It was only from what she perceived was done to her, and from those intimations that were given her, that she judged her life to be in danger. But she scarce knew herself to be sick, by any thing that she felt at heart. Her bearing so much sickness with so little emotion, was for some time imputed to that undisturbed quiet and patience in which she possessed her soul; but when she repeated it so often, that she felt herself well inwardly,' then it appeared that there was a particular blessing in so easy conclusion of a life, that had been led through a great variety of accidents with a constant equality of temper."-Essay on the Memory of the late Queen. By Gilbert, Bishop of Sarum. 8vo. 1695.