be a libel on Machiavelli to apply his name to this government of incompetent and selfish factions. It would have been well had they studied The Prince, and taken its lessons to heart; if Somerset had learned from it to avoid the vacillation and want of decision which characterised him, to abstain from hasty and ill-considered innovations in religion, and to recognise that the true strength of a government lies in the goodwill of the people. But the strong policy of Cromwell, in fact, ceased with his death, and it was not until England had been for eleven years, under Edward and Mary, a prey to the misgovernment of unscrupulous adventurers, and doctrinaires, Catholic and Protestant, that the system which he had initiated was revived again by the accession of Elizabeth.

During the reign of Elizabeth, even more than during that of Henry the Eighth, the statecraft of Machiavelli seems to have been consistently applied. The conditions obtaining in England at the time of the Queen's accession were, indeed, not altogether unlike those which had prompted Machiavelli to write his Discourses. There was the same danger to be feared both from within and from withoutwithin, the never-ceasing war of religious factions, wasting in futile and bloody controversy the best strength of the nation; without the French king bestriding the realm, having one foot in Calais and the other in Scotland; steadfast enemies, but no steadfast friends.'7 In both the Discourses on Livy and The Prince, whatever differences of principle and method there might be between them, Machiavelli had the same object in view--the healing of the open wounds of Italy and her liberation from the hated bondage of the barbarian.' This, with the necessary differences of circumstance, was also the task that lay before Elizabeth. How well she performed it is matter of history and need not be enlarged upon here. We are more concerned with the policy she pursued, and by means of which she raised England, menaced at her accession by the hostility of France and the scarcely less dangerous friendship of Spain, to an unprecedented height of glory and influence among the nations of Europe. This policy, deliberately selected among several alternatives, was as novel as it was successful. How far was it inspired by the writings of Machiavelli ?

There is evidence, which I will adduce later on, to prove that Machiavelli's works were studied by at least one of Elizabeth's advisers. But the Queen was apt to follow her own courses, and it is certain that no policy could have been forced upon her against her own judgment. The brilliant results of her long and glorious reign were, in fact, due to her own genius. For, though she knew how to select and keep her ministers, her relations with them were always

Address to the Council. Cf. Froude, Hist. vol. vii. p. 8.

See Bacon's account of the state of England at the time of the Queen's death in 'Observations on a Libel,' &c. (Works, vol. iii. p. 40, ed. 1824, London).

regulated on the principles that Machiavelli had laid down; 9 and, whilst she was ever ready to listen to any advice they had to offer, she never allowed her share of the government to be overshadowed by their influence. Even Lord Burleigh, who for thirty-four years continued to enjoy her confidence, was in the habit of deferring to her opinion, and, as Bacon says, 'there never was a councillor of his Lordship's long continuance that was so applicable to Her Majesty's princely resolutions, endeavouring always, after faithful propositions and remonstrances, and these in the best words and the most grateful manner, to rest upon such conclusions as Her Majesty in her own wisdom determineth, and them to execute to the best.' 10 The guiding spirit of Elizabeth's policy, then, is to be sought in the character of the Queen herself, whose personality exercised so extraordinary an influence in directing the tendency of affairs during her reign.

In some respects Elizabeth approached nearer than her father to Machiavelli's ideal prince. The salient characteristics of Henry the Eighth were, indeed, renewed in her; but whereas he had never quite succeeded in burying the theologian in the statesman, his daughter followed Machiavelli in regarding religion mainly as subsidiary to statecraft, not hesitating, as it seemed, to do violence to her own convictions or predilections if by so doing she could further her policy. That her action was consciously based on a study of The Prince there seems, indeed, to be no evidence to prove; but there is much to make us suspect that she was not unacquainted with Machiavelli's writings. There is a certain theatrical aspect about both her private and public life, which seems to show that she was acting a carefully studied part; and all the intricacies of her policy appear to have been based upon some consistent theory of statecraft. From Machiavelli it may have been that she borrowed that art of political lying which she carried to the verge of comedy, and which she seemed to regard as part of the essential equipment of every diplomatist.12 And, if she was proud of her skill in outwitting others, she was even more so of the penetration which enabled her to see through their deceits. 'You deal not,' she writes to James the Sixth, upbraiding him with breaking his word, 'you deal not with one whose experience can take dross for good payments, nor one that easily may be beguiled. No, no! I mind to set to school your craftiest councillor.' Nor was this high opinion of her own powers without foundation. Bacon comments on her penetrating sight in

13

'Observations on a Libel,' &c. (Bacon, vol. iii. p. 40).

10 Cf. The Prince, cap. xxiii.

" Theodor Mundt (Machiavelli u. der Gang der europäischen Politik) points out the dramatic aspect of The Prince: It is more the question of the study of a part than of a consistent doctrine.'

12 Cf. Prince, cap. xviii.

13 Cf. Ellis, Original Letters, vol. i. letter ccxv.

VOL. XL-No. 238

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discovering every man's ends and drifts; her inventing wit in contriving plots and overturns; her foreseeing events; her usage of occasions.' 14 And if, in these matters, she appeared in a large measure to realise Machiavelli's conception of a prudent prince, she did so no less in the broad outlines of her policy.

The great problem which, at the beginning of her reign, Elizabeth was called on to solve was the question of religion; and it is in her religious policy that the influence of Machiavelli may be most clearly traced. The crisis of the religious revolution had, indeed, already passed when she came to the throne. A few zealots, on one side or

the other, might be still anxious to fight out the battle to a decisive conclusion, but the nation as a whole was heartily weary of a theological warfare which had reduced the country to the verge of ruin. The accession of the new queen had brought back streams of Protestant refugees, breathing vengeance and destruction against their persecutors, whilst Elizabeth's cautious proceedings during the first few months of her reign had, for the time, revived the hopes of the Catholics. But she had, in fact, determined to favour neither of the extreme parties. She knew that in following this course she would have the support of the bulk of the nation, and, with the mass of the nation on her side, she could afford to brave the attacks of the small number, however zealous they might be, who would be hostile to her system. Religion, then, was to be no longer the chief motive of government. Henceforward the attention of the people was to be drawn away from the fatal animosities of theology by the substitution of a new motive for their aspiration, a motive to which religion was to be subservient; and the nation, hitherto shattered by the conflict of rival sects, was to be welded together in a common opposition to the power and arrogance of Spain.

At the beginning of the reign, indeed, Philip had still hoped to retain his hold on England, and had offered Elizabeth his alliance. For a moment she hesitated, as well she might, for, situated as she was, the offer was a dazzling one. But she had had the strength and foresight to refuse it. And the policy which she pursued instead was that which Machiavelli had recommended for distracted Italynamely, the policy of military reorganisation,' 15 or the consolidation of the people by uniting them in a national conflict with a rival Power. And just as in Machiavelli the religious motive is made entirely subservient to the political, so the national religion became during Elizabeth's reign gradually associated in the minds of the people with the national opposition to Spain. Recusancy, which under Edward the Sixth would have been punished as heresy rather than

14 A Discourse in Praise of Queen Elizabeth,' Bacon's Works, vol. iii. p. 35 (London, 1824).

15 Politik der kriegerischen Reorganisation' (cf. Theodor Mundt, Machiavelli und der Gang der europäischen Politik).

treason, came to be regarded as an offence against the national cause rather than as a religious crime. Elizabeth, in fact, cared little about abstract propositions of theology. She was quite content to renounce her father's title of 'Supreme Head of the Church,' if by doing so she could persuade people to acquiesce more readily in her practical supremacy. She had no desire to 'pry into men's consciences,' but she required that every man should bow to the laws which she had made in the interests of the national unity. And the success of this policy is apparent in the religious tranquillity of the earlier part of her reign, a tranquillity which might have been permanent, had not the bulls of Pius the Fifth blown the smouldering embers of religious zeal once more into a flame; and, even then, the failure of the Catholic plots proves the general soundness of the Queen's policy.

If Elizabeth did not derive her principles and method of government directly from Machiavelli, it is more than probable that they were suggested to her by the most trusted of her ministers, who, without doubt, had studied him to good purpose.

There is, in the library of the British Museum, a volume containing copies of Machiavelli's Prince and the Discourses on Livy bound up together. These were ostensibly published at Palermo, in 1584, but are judged, from the evidence of certain initial woodcuts, to have been actually printed clandestinely in London by one John Wolfe. On the title-page of this volume, which is elaborately underlined and annotated throughout, is the signature W. Cecil.' To attempt to prove that it was Lord Burleigh who owned and annotated this book is tempting; but unhappily honesty compels me to admit that the handwriting is not his, and that in any case at the date of the publication of the volume his signature would have been 'W. Burleigh.' Yet the name of Cecil, in such a connection, is not without significance, and it would have been possible to argue from it, with some plausibility, that Machiavelli's treatises were known to Lord Burleigh. Fortunately, however, there is other and more conclusive evidence to prove the same point.

Burleigh was in the habit, from time to time, of reducing the outlines of any course of policy he advocated to writing, as memorials for the Queen's use. Of these memorials several have been published among his papers, and serve to throw no little light on the character of his policy; one of them being of peculiar value, because it not only proves that Burleigh himself was a disciple of Machiavelli, but enables us to form some estimate of how far Elizabeth's religious policy was directly influenced by the Florentine writer. This document is published under the title of ' Advice of the Lord Treasurer Burleigh to Queen Elizabeth in Matters of Religion and State,' and the most important part of it deals with the question of the 10 Fourth collection of Somers Tracts, vol. i. p. 101.

16

Catholic malcontents. With regard to these there were two courses open to the Queen. She might either allow them to grow strong, in the hope of making them contented, or discontent them by making them weaker, for what the mixture of strength and discontent engenders needs no syllogism to prove.' But to suffer them to be strong in the hope of making them contented carried with it, in his opinion, but a fair enamelling of a terrible danger;' for men's natures are apt to strive not only against the present smart, but to revenging by past injury, though they be never so well contented thereafter.' 917 For on the very first opportunity for revenge that presents itself 'they will remember not the after slacking but the former binding, and so much the more when they shall imagine this relenting to proceed from fear; for it is the poison of all government when the subject thinks the prince doth anything more out of fear than favour.' 18 But, above all, there should be no half-measures; 19 for 'no man loves one the better for giving him the bastinado, though with never so little a cudgel;' the course of the most wise, most politick, and best grounded estates hath ever been to make an assuredness of friendship, or to take away all power of enmity.' 20 'Yet here,' he adds, I must distinguish between discontent and despair; for it sufficeth to weaken the discontented, but there is no way to kill desperates, which in such number as they are, were as hard and difficult as impious and ungodly; and, therefore, though they must be discontented, I would not have them desperate; for amongst many desperate men it is like that some one will bring forth some desperate deed.' 21

A comparison with The Prince or the Discourses on Livy will show that not only the spirit of the above advice, but in some cases almost the language in which it is couched, is borrowed from Machiavelli. And if the conclusion to which Burleigh is led by the above argument is a just one--namely, that the consciences of the Catholics should not be forced by compelling them to take an oath contrary to their belief in the Papal supremacy--he arrives at this conclusion not because it is wrong to force men's consciences, but because, in this case, it would be dangerous to the State to do so; and, in dealing out any scant measure of justice to the malcontents, in his opinion the furthest point to be sought was but to avoid

17 Discorsi, book iii. p. 4: Mai l' ingiurie vecchie non furono cancellate da beneficii nuovi.' Also Principe, cap. vii. end.

18 Ibid., vol. ii. p. 14; also Principe, end of chap. viii.

19 Ibid., vol. ii. p. 23: Ne usarno mai la via neutrale in quelli di momento.' 20 Ibid. Quel Principe, che non castiga chi erra, in modo che non possa più errare, è tenuto o ignorante o vile.'

21 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 28: Notabile a qualunque governa, che mai non debba tanto poco stimare un' huomo, che e' creda . . . che colui, che è ingiuriato, non si pensi di vendicarsi con ogni suo pericolo e particular danno.'