Source: John Toland's Introduction to The Oceana and Other Works of James Harrington, with an Account of His Life by John Toland (London: Becket and Cadell, 1771).
1. JAMES HARRINGTON (who was born in January 1611) was descended of an antient and noble family in Rutlandshire, being great grandson to Sir James Harrington; of whom it is observ’d by the* historian of that county, that there were sprung in his time eight dukes, three marquisses, seventy earls, twenty-seven viscounts, and thirty-six barons; of which number sixteen were knights of the garter: to confirm which account, we shall annex a copy of the inscription on his monument and that of his three sons at Exton, with notes on the same by an uncertain hand. As for our author, he was the eldest son of Sir Sapcotes Harrington, and Jane the daughter of Sir William Samuel of Upton in Northamptonshire. His father had children besides him, William, a merchant in London;Elizabeth, marry’d to Sir Ralph Ashton in Lancashire, baronet; Ann, marry’d to Arthur Evelyn, Esq; And by a second wife he had John, kill’d at sea; Edward, a captain in the army, yet living; Frances, marry’d to John Bagshaw of Culworth in Northamptonshire, Esq; and Dorothy, marry’d to Allan Bellingham of Levens in Westmorland, Esq; This lady is still alive, and, when she understood my design, was pleas’d to put me in possession of all the remaining letters, and other manuscript papers of her brother, with the collections and observations relating to him, made by his other sister the lady Ashton, a woman of very extraordinary parts and accomplishments. These, with the account given of him by Anthony Wood, in the second volum of his Athenae Oxonienses, and what I cou’d learn from the mouths of his surviving acquaintance, are the materials whereof I compos’d this insuing history of his life.
2. In his very childhood he gave sure hopes of his future abilitys, as well by his inclination and capacity to learn whatever was propos’d to him, as by a kind of natural gravity; whence his parents and masters were wont to say, That he rather kept them in aw, than needed their correction: yet when grown a man, none could easily surpass him for quickness of wit, and a most facetious temper. He was enter’d a gentleman commoner of Trinity College in Oxford in the year 1629, and became a pupil to that great master of reason Dr. Chillingworth, who discovering the errors, impostures, and tyranny of the Popish church (whereof he was for some time a member) attackt it with more proper and successful arms than all before, or perhaps any since have don. After considerably improving his knowlege in the university, he was more particularly fitting himself for his intended travels, by learning several foren languages, when his father dy’d, leaving him under age. Tho the court of wards was still in being, yet by the soccage tenure of his estate he was at liberty to chuse his own guardian; and accordingly pitch’d upon his grandmother the lady Samuel, a woman eminent for her wisdom and virtue. Of her and the rest of his governors he soon obtain’d a permission to satisfy his eager desire of seeing som other parts of the world, where he could make such observations on men and manners, as might best fit him in due time to serve and adorn his native country.
3. His first step was into Holland, then the principal school of martial disciplin, and (what toucht him more sensibly) a place wonderfully flourishing under the influence of their liberty, which they had so lately asserted, by breaking the yoke of a severe master, the Spanish tyrant. And here, no doubt, it was that he begun to make government the subject of his meditations: for he was often heard to say, that, before he left England, he knew no more of monarchy, anarchy, aristocracy, democracy, oligarchy, or the like, than as hard words, wherof he learnt the signification in his dictionary. For some months he listed himself in my lord Craven’s regiment and Sir Robert Stone’s; during which time being much at the Hague, he had the opportunity of further accomplishing himself in two courts, namely, those of the prince of Orange and the queen of Bohemia, the daughter of our K. James I. then a fugitive in Holland, her husband having bin abandon’d by his father in law, betray’d by the king of Spain, and stript of all his territorys by the emperor. This excellent princess entertain’d him with extraordinary favor and civility on the account of his uncle the lord Harrington, who had bin her governor; but particularly for the sake of his own merit. The prince elector also courted him into his service, ingag’d him to attend him in a journy he made to the court of Denmark, and, after his return from travelling, committed the chief management of all his affairs in England to his care. Nor were the young princesses less delighted with his company, his conversation being always extremely pleasant, as well as learned and polite; to which good qualitys those unfortunat ladies were far from being strangers, as appears by the letters of the great philosopher Cartesius, and by the other writers of those times.
4. Tho he found many charms inviting his longer stay in this place, yet none were strong enough to keep him from pursuing his main design of travelling; and therfore he went next thro Flanders into France, where having perfected himself in the language, seen what deserv’d his curiosity, and made such remarks on their government as will best appear in his works, he remov’d thence into Italy. It happen’d to be then (as it is now) the year of jubilee. He always us’d to admire the great dexterity wherwith the Popish clergy could maintain their severe government over so great a part of the world, and that men otherwise reasonable enough should be inchanted out of their senses, as well as cheated out of their mony, by these ridiculous tricks of religious pageantry. Except the small respect he shew’d to the miracles they daily told him were perform’d in their churches, he did in all other things behave himself very prudently and inoffensively. But going on a Candlemas day with several other Protestants, to see the Pope perform the ceremony of consecrating wax lights; and perceiving that none could obtain any of those torches, except such as kist the Pope’s toe (which he expos’d to ’em for that purpose) tho he had a great mind to one of the lights, yet he would not accept it on so hard a condition. The rest of his companions were not so scrupulous, and after their return complain’d of his squeamishness to the king; who telling him he might have don it only as a respect to a temporal prince, he presently reply’d, that since he had the honor to kiss his majesty’s hand, he thought it beneath him to kiss any other prince’s foot. The king was pleased with his answer, and did afterwards admit him to be one of his privy chamber extraordinary, in which quality he attended him in his first expedition against the Scots.
5. He prefer’d Venice to all other places in Italy, as he did its government to all those of the whole world, it being in his opinion immutable by any external or internal causes, and to finish only with mankind; of which assertion you may find various proofs alleg’d in his works. Here he furnish’d himself with a collection of all the valuable books in the Italian language, especially treating of politics, and contracted acquaintance with every one of whom he might receive any benefit by instruction or otherwise.
6. After having thus seen Italy, France, the Low Countrys, Denmark, and som parts of Germany, he return’d home into England, to the great joy of all his friends and acquaintance. But he was in a special manner the darling of his relations, of whom he acknowleg’d to receive reciprocal satisfaction. His brothers and sisters were now pretty well grown, which made it his next care so to provide for each of ’em as might render ’em independent of others, and easy to themselves. His brother William he bred to be a merchant, in which calling he became a considerable man; he was a good architect, and was so much notic’d for his ingenious contrivances, that he was receiv’d a fellow of the royal society. How his other brothers were dispos’d, we mention’d in the beginning of this discourse. He took all the care of a parent in the education of his sisters, and wou’d himself make large discourses to ’em concerning the reverence that was due to Almighty God; the benevolence they were oblig’d to shew all mankind; how they ought to furnish their minds with knowlege by reading of useful books, and to shew the goodness of their disposition by a constant practice of virtue: in a word, he taught ’em the true rules of humanity and decency, always inculcating to ’em, that good manners did not so much consist in a fashionable carriage (which ought not to be neglected) as in becoming words and actions, an obliging address, and a modest behavior. He treated his mother in law as if she were his own, and made no distinction between her children and the rest of his brothers and sisters; which good example had such effects on ’em all, that no family has bin more remarkable for their mutual friendship.
7. He was of a very liberal and compassionate nature, nor could he indure to see a friend want any thing he might spare; and when the relief that was necessary exceded the bounds of his estate, he persuaded his sisters not only to contribute themselves, but likewise to go about to the rest of their relations to complete what was wanting. And if at any time they alleg’d that this bounty had been thrown away on ungrateful persons, he would answer with a smile, that he saw they were mercenary, and that they plainly sold their gifts, since they expected so great a return as gratitude.
8. His natural inclinations to study kept him from seeking after any public imployments. But in the year 1646, attending out of curiosity the commissioners appointed by parlament to bring King Charles the First from Newcastle nearer to London, he was by som of ’em nam’d to wait on his majesty, as a person known to him before, and ingag’d to no party or faction. The king approv’d the proposal, yet our author would never presume to come into his presence except in public, till he was particularly commanded by the king; and that he, with Thomas Herbert (created a baronet after the restoration of the monarchy) were made grooms of the bedchamber at Holmby, together with James Maxwell and Patrick Maule (afterwards earl of Penmoore in Scotland) which two only remain’d of his old servants in that station.
9. He had the good luck to grow very acceptable to the king, who much convers’d with him about books and foren countrys. In his sister’s papers I find it exprest, that at the king’s command he translated into English Dr. Sanderson’s book concerning the obligation of oaths: but Anthony Wood says it was the king’s own doing, and that he shew’d it at different times to Harrington, Herbert, Dr. Juxon, Dr. Hammond, and Dr. Sheldon, for their approbation. However that be, ’tis certain he serv’d his master with untainted fidelity, without doing any thing inconsistent with the liberty of his country; and that he made use of his interest with his friends in parlament to have matters accommodated for the satisfaction of all partys. During the treaty in the Isle of Wight, he frequently warn’d the divines of his acquaintance to take heed how far they prest the king to insist upon any thing which, however it concern’d their dignity, was no essential point of religion; and that such matters driven too far wou’d infallibly ruin all the indeavours us’d for a peace; which prophecy was prov’d too true by the event. His majesty lov’d his company, says Anthony Wood,and, finding him to be an ingenious man, chose rather to converse with him than with others of his chamber: they had often discourses concerning government; but when they happen’d to talk of a commonwealth, the king seem’d not to indure it. Here I know not which most to commend, the king for trusting a man of republican principles, or Harrington for owning his principles while he serv’d a king.
10. After the king was remov’d out of the Isle of Wight to Hurstcastle in Hampshire,Harrington was forcibly turn’d out of service, because he vindicated som of his majesty’s arguments against the parlament commissioners at Newport, and thought his concessions not so unsatisfactory as did som others. As they were taking the king to Windsor, he beg’d admittance to the boot of the coach, that he might bid his master farewel; which being granted, and he preparing to kneel, the king took him by the hand, and pull’d him in to him. He was for three or four days permitted to stay: but because he would not take an oath against assisting or concealing the king’s escape, he was not only discharg’d from his office, but also for som time detain’d in custody, till major-general Ireton obtain’d his liberty. He afterwards found means to see the king at St. James’s, and accompany’d him on the scaffold, where, or a little before, he receiv’d a token of his majesty’s affection.
11. After the king’s death he was observ’d to keep much in his library, and more retir’d than usually, which was by his friends a long time attributed to melancholy or discontent. At length when they weary’d him with their importunitys to change this sort of life, he thought fit to shew ’em at the same time their mistake and a copy of his Oceana, which he was privatly writing all that while: telling ’em withal, that ever since he began to examin things seriously, he had principally addicted himself to the study of civil government, as being of the highest importance to the peace and felicity of mankind; and that he succeded at least to his own satisfaction, being now convinc’d that no government is of so accidental or arbitrary an institution as people are wont to imagin, there being in societys natural causes producing their necessary effects, as well as in the earth or the air. Hence he frequently argu’d, that the troubles of his time were not to be wholly attributed to wilfulness or faction, neither to the misgovernment of the prince, nor the stubborness of the people; but to change in the balance of property, which ever since Henry the Seventh’s time was daily falling into the scale of the commons from that of the king and the lords, as in his book he evidently demonstrats and explains. Not that hereby he approv’d either the breaches which the king had made on the laws, or excus’d the severity which som of the subjects exercis’d on the king; but to shew that as long as the causes of these disorder’s remain’d, so long would the like effects unavoidably follow: while on the one hand a king would be always indeavoring to govern according to the example of his predecessors when the best part of the national property was in their own hands, and consequently the greatest command of mony and men, as one of a thousand pounds a year can entertain more servants, or influence more tenants than another that has but one hundred, out of which he cannot allow one valet; and on the other hand he said, the people would be sure to struggle for preserving the property wherof they were in possession, never failing to obtain more privileges, and to inlarge the basis of their liberty, as often as they met with any success (which they generally did) in quarrels of this kind. His chief aim therfore was to find out a method of preventing such distempers, or to apply the best remedys when they happen’d to break out. But as long as the balance remain’d in this unequal state, he affirm’d that no king whatsoever could keep himself easy, let him never so much indeavor to please his people; and that though a good king might manage affairs tolerably well during his life, yet this did not prove the government to be good, since under a less prudent prince it would fall to pieces again, while the orders of a well constituted state make wicked men virtuous, and fools to act wisely.
12. Thatempire follows the balance of property, whether lodg’d in one, in a few, or in many hands, he was the first that ever made out; and is a noble discovery, wherof the honor solely belongs to him, as much as those of the circulation of the blood, of printing, of guns, of the compass, or of optic glasses, to the several authors. ’Tis incredible to think what gross and numberless errors were committed by all the writers before him, even by the best of them, for want of understanding this plain truth, which is the foundation of all politics. He no sooner discours’d publicly of this new doctrin, being a man of universal acquaintance, but it ingag’d all sorts of people to busy themselves about it as they were variously affected. Som, because they understood him, despis’d it, alleging it was plain to every man’s capacity, as if his highest merit did not consist in making it so. Others, and those in number the fewest, disputed with him about it, merely to be better inform’d; with which he was well pleas’d, as reckoning a pertinent objection of greater advantage to the discovery of truth (which was his aim) than a complaisant applause or approbation. But a third sort, of which there never wants in all places a numerous company, did out of pure envy strive all they could to lessen or defame him; and one of ’em (since they could not find any precedent writer out of whose works they might make him a plagiary) did endeavor, after a very singular manner, to rob him of the glory of this invention: for our author having friendly lent him a part of his papers, he publish’d a small piece to the same purpose, intitled, A letter from an officer of the army in Ireland, &c. Major Wildman was then reputed the author by som, and Henry Nevil by others; which latter, by reason of this thing, and his great intimacy with Harrington, was by his detractors reported to be the author of his works, or that at least he had a principal hand in composing of them. Notwithstanding which provocations, so true was he to the friendship he profest to Nevil and Wildman, that he avoided all harsh expressions or public censures on this occasion, contenting himself with the justice which the world was soon oblig’d to yield to him by reason of his other writings, where no such clubbing of brains could be reasonably suspected.
13. But the publication of his book met with greater difficultys from the opposition of the several partys then set against one another, and all against him; but none more than som of those who pretended to be for a commonwealth, which was the specious name under which they cover’d the rankest tyranny of Oliver Cromwel, while Harrington, like Paul at Athens, indeavor’d to make known to the people what they ignorantly ador’d. By shewing that a commonwealth was a government of laws, and not of the sword, he could not but detect the violent administration of the protector by his bashaws, intendants, or majors general, which created him no small danger: while the cavaliers on the other side tax’d him with ingratitude to the memory of the late king, and prefer’d the monarchy even of a usurper to the best order’d commonwealth. To these he answer’d, that it was enough for him to forbear publishing his sentiments during that king’s life; but the monarchy being now quite dissolv’d, and the nation in a state of anarchy, or (what was worse) groaning under a horrid usurpation, he was not only at liberty, but even oblig’d as a good citizen to offer a helping hand to his countrymen, and to shew ’em such a model of government as he thought most conducing to their tranquillity, wealth and power: that the cavaliers ought of all people to be best pleas’d with him, since if his model succeded, they were sure to enjoy equal privileges with others, and so be deliver’d from their present oppression; for in a well-constituted commonwealth there can be no distinction of partys, the passage to preferment is open to merit in all persons, and no honest man can be uneasy: but that if the prince should happen to be restor’d, his doctrin of the balance would be a light to shew him what and with whom he had to do, and so either to amend or avoid the miscarriages of his father; since all that is said of this doctrin may as well be accommodated to a monarchy regulated by laws, as to a democracy or more popular form of a commonwealth. He us’d to add on such occasions another reason of writing this model, which was, That if it should ever be the fate of this nation to be, like Italy of old, overrun by any barbarous people, or to have its government and records destroy’d by the rage of som merciless conqueror, they might not be then left to their own invention in framing a new government; for few people can be expected to succede so happily as the Venetians have don in such a case.
14. In the mean time it was known to som of the courtiers, that the book was a printing; whereupon, after hunting it from one press to another, they seiz’d their prey at last, and convey’d it to Whitehall. All the sollicitations he could make were not able to relieve his papers, till he remember’d that Oliver’s favorit daughter, the lady Claypole, acted the part of a princess very naturally, obliging all persons with her civility, and frequently interceding for the unhappy. To this lady, tho an absolute stranger to him, he thought fit to make his application; and being led into her antichamber, he sent in his name, with his humble request that she would admit him to her presence. While he attended, som of her women coming into the room were follow’d by her little daughter about three years old, who staid behind them. He entertain’d the child so divertingly, that she suffer’d him to take her up in his arms till her mother came; whereupon he stepping towards her, and setting the child down at her feet, said, Madam, ’tis well you are com at this nick of time, or I had certainly stolen this pretty little lady. Stolen her, reply’d the mother! pray, what to do with her? for she is yet too young to becom your mistress. Madam, said he, tho her charms assure her of a more considerable conquest, yet I must confess it is not love but revenge that promted me to commit this theft. Lord, answer’d the lady again, what injury have I don you that you should steal my child? none at all, reply’d he, but that you might be induc’d to prevail with your father to do me justice, by restoring my child that he has stolen. But she urging it was impossible, because her father had children enough of his own; he told her at last it was the issue of his brain which was misrepresented to the protector, and taken out of the press by his order. She immediately promis’d to procure it for him, if it contain’d nothing prejudicial to her father’s government; and he assur’d her it was only a kind of a political romance, so far from any treason against her father, that he hop’d she would acquaint him that he design’d to dedicat it to him, and promis’d that she her self should be presented with one of the first copys. The lady was so well pleas’d with his manner of address, that he had his book speedily restor’d to him; and he did accordingly inscribe it to Oliver Cromwel, who, after the perusal of it, said, the gentleman had like to trapan him out of his power, but that what he got by the sword he would not quit for a little paper shot: adding in his usual cant, that he approv’d the government of a single person as little as any of ’em, but that he was forc’d to take upon him the office of a high constable, to preserve the peace among the several partys in the nation, since he saw that being left to themselves, they would never agree to any certain form of government, and would only spend their whole power in defeating the designs, or destroying the persons of one another.
15. But nothing in the world could better discover Cromwel’s dissimulation than this speech, since Harrington had demonstrated in his book, that no commonwealth could be so easily or perfectly establish’d as one by a sole legislator, it being in his power (if he were a man of good invention himself, or had a good model propos’d to him by others) to set up a government in the whole piece at once, and in perfection; but an assembly, being of better judgment than invention, generally make patching work in forming a government, and are whole ages about that which is seldom or never brought by ’em to any perfection; but is commonly ruin’d by the way, leaving the noblest attemts under reproach, and the authors of ’em expos’d to the greatest dangers while they live, and to a certain infamy when dead. Wherfore the wisest assemblys, in mending or making a government, have pitch’d upon a sole legislator, whose model they could rightly approve, tho not so well digest; as musicians can play in consort, and judg of an air that is laid before them, tho to invent a part of music they could never agree, nor succede so happily as one person. If Cromwel therfore had meant as he spoke, no man had ever such an opportunity of reforming what was amiss in the old government, or setting up one wholly new, either according to the plan of Oceana, or any other. This would have made him indeed a hero superior in lasting fame to Solon, Lycurgus, Zaleucus, and Charondas; and render his glory far more resplendent, his security greater, and his renown more durable than all the pomp of his ill acquir’d greatness could afford: whereas on the contrary he liv’d in continual fears of those he had inslav’d, dy’d abhor’d as a monstrous betrayer of those libertys with which he was intrusted by his country, and his posterity not possessing a foot of what for their only sakes he was generally thought to usurp But this last is a mistaken notion, for som of the most notorious tyrants liv’d and dy’d without any hopes of children; which is a good reason why no mortal ought to be trusted with too much power on that score. Lycurgus and Andrew Doria, who, when it was in their power to continue princes, chose rather to be the founders of their countrys liberty, will be celebrated for their virtue thro the course of all ages, and their very names convey the highest ideas of Godlike generosity; while Julius Cæsar, Oliver Cromwel, and such others as at any time inslav’d their fellow citizens, will be for ever remember’d with detestation, and cited as the most execrable examples of the vilest treachery and ingratitude. It is only a refin’d and excellent genius, a noble soul ambitious of solid praise, a sincere lover of virtue and the good of all mankind, that is capable of executing so glorious an undertaking as making a people free. ’Tis my fix’d opinion, that if the protector’s mind had the least tincture of true greatness, he could not be proof against the incomparable rewards propos’d by Harrington in the corollary of his Oceana; as no prince truly generous, whether with or without heirs, is able to resist their charms, provided he has opportunity to advance the happiness of his people. ’Twas this disposition that brought the prince of Orange to head us when we lately contended for our libesty; to this we ow those inestimable laws we have obtain’d, since out of a grateful confidence we made him our king; and how great things, or after what manner, we may expect from him in time to com, is as hard to be truly conceiv’d as worthily express’d.
16. I shall now give som account of the book itself, intitl’d by the author, The Commonwealth of Oceana, a name by which he design’d England, as being the noblest iland of the Northern ocean. But before I procede further, I must explain som other words occurring in this book, which is written after the manner of a romance, in imitation of Plato’sAtlantic story, and is a method ordinarily follow’d by lawgivers.
|Alma||The palace of St. JAMES.|
|Hemisua||The river Trent.|
|Olphaus Megaletor||OLIVER CROMWEL.|
|Verulamius||Lord Chancellor BACON.|
17. The book consists of Preliminarys divided into two parts, and a third section called the Council of Legislators; then follows the Model of the Commonwealth, or the body of the book; and lastly coms the Corollary or Conclusion. The preliminary discourses contain the principles, generation, and effects of all governments, whether monarchical, aristocratical, or popular, and their several corruptions, as tyranny, oligarchy, and anarchy, with all the good or bad mixtures that naturally result from them. But the first part dos in a more particular manner treat of antient prudence, or that genius of government which most prevail’d in the world till the time of Julius Cæsar. None can consult a more certain oracle that would conceive the nature of foren or domestic empire; the balance of land or mony; arms or contracts; magistracy and judicatures; agrarian laws; elections by the ballot; rotation of officers, with a great many such heads, especially the inconveniences and preeminences of each kind of government, or the true comparison of ’em all together. These subjects have bin generally treated distinctly, and every one of them seems to require a volum; yet I am of opinion that in this short discourse there is a more full and clearer account of them, than can be easily found elsewhere: at least I must own to have receiv’d greater satisfaction here than in all my reading before, and the same thing has bin frankly own’d to me by others.
18. The second part of the Preliminarys treats of modern prudence, or that genius of government which has most obtain’d in the world since the expiration of the Roman liberty, particularly the Gothic constitution, beginning with the inundation of the barbarous northern nations over the Roman empire. In this discourse there is a very clear account of the English government under the Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, till the foundations of it were cunningly undermin’d by Henry VII. terribly shaken by Henry VIII. and utterly ruin’d under Charles I. Here he must read, who in a little compass would completely understand the antient feuds and tenures, the original and degrees of our nobility, with the inferior orders of the rest of the people: under the Saxons, what was meant by ealdorman, or earls; king’s thane; middle thane or vavasors; their shiremoots, sherifs, and viscounts; their halymoots, weidenagemoots, and such others. Here likewise one may learn to understand the baronage of the Normans, as the barons by their possessions, by writ, or by letters patent; with many other particulars which give an insight into the springs and management of the barons wars, so frequent and famous in our annals. The rest of this discourse is spent in shewing the natural causes of the dissolution of the Norman monarchy under Charles the First, and the generation of the commonwealth, or rather the anarchy that succeded.
19. Next follows the Council of Legislators: for Harrington being about to give the most perfect model of government, he made himself master of all the antient and modern politicians, that he might as well imitat whatever was excellent or practicable in them, as his care was to avoid all things which were impracticable or inconvenient. These were the justest measures that could possibly be taken by any body, whether he design’d to be rightly inform’d, and sufficiently furnish’d with the best materials; or whether he would have his model meet with an easy reception: for since his own sentiments (tho’ never so true) were sure to be rejected as privat speculations or impracticable chimeras, this was the readiest way to make ’em pass currently, as both authoriz’d by the wisest men in all nations, and as what in all times and places had bin practis’d with success. To this end therefore he introduces, under feign’d names, nine legislators, who perfectly understood the several governments, they were appointed to represent. The province of the first was the commonwealth of Israel; that of the second, Athens; of the third, Sparta; of the fourth, Carthage; of the fifth, the Achæans, Ætolians, and Lycians; of the sixth, Rome; of the seventh, Venice; of the eighth, Switzerland; and of the ninth, Holland. Out of the excellencys of all these, supply’d with the fruits of his own invention, he fram’d the model of his Oceana; and indeed he shews himself in that work so throly vers’d in their several historys and constitutions, that to any man who would rightly understand them, I could not easily recommend a more proper teacher: for here they are dissected and laid open to all capacitys, their perfections applauded, their inconveniencys expos’d, and parallels frequently made between ’em no less entertaining than usual. Nor are the antient and modern Eastern or European monarchys forgot, but exhibited with all their advantages and corruptions, without the least dissimulation or partiality.
20. As for the model, I shall say nothing of it in particular, as well because I would not forestal the pleasure of the reader, as by reason an abridgment of it is once or twice made by himself, and inserted among his works. The method he observes is to lay down his orders or laws in so many positive propositions, to each of which he subjoins an explanatory discourse; and if there be occasion, adds a speech suppos’d to be deliver’d by the lord Archon, or som of the legislators. These speeches are extraordinary fine, contain a world of good learning and observation, and are perpetual commentarys on his laws. In the Corollary, which is the conclusion of the whole work, he shews how the last hand was put to his commonwealth; which we must not imagin to treat only of the form of the senat and affemblys of the people, or the manner of waging war and governing in peace. It contains besides, the disciplin of a national religion, and the security of a liberty of conscience: a form of government for Scotland, for Ireland, and the other provinces of the commonwealth; governments for London and Westminster, proportionably to which the other corporations of the nation are to be model’d; directions for the incouraging of trade; laws for regulating academys; and most excellent rules for the education of our youth, as well to the wars or the sea, to manufactures or husbandry, as to law, physic, or divinity, and chiefly to the breeding and true figure of accomplish’d gentlemen: there are admirable orders for reforming the stage; the number, choice and business of the officers of state and the revenue, with all sorts of officers; and an exact account both of their salarys, and the ordinary yearly charge of the whole commonwealth, which for two rarely consistent things, the grandeur of its state, and the frugal management of its revenues, excedes all the governments that ever were. I ought not to omit telling here, that this model gives a full answer to those who imagin that there can be no distinctions, or degrees, neither nobility nor gentry in a democracy, being led into this mistake, because they ignorantly think all commonwealths to be constituted alike; when, if they were but never so little vers’d in history, they might know that no order of men now in the world can com near the figure that was made by the noblemen and gentlemen of the Roman state: nor in this respect dos the commonwealth of Oceana com any thing behind them; for, as Harrington says very truly, an army may as well consist of soldiers without officers, or of officers without soldiers, as a commonwealth (especially such an one as is capable of greatness) consist of a people without a gentry, or of a gentry without a people. So much may suffice for understanding the scope of this book: I shall only add, that none ought to be offended with a few odd terms in it, such as the prime magnitude, the pillar of Nilus, the galaxy, and the tropic of magistrats, since the author explains what he means by ’em, and that any other may call ’em by what more significative names he pleases; for t’ e things themselves are absolutely necessary.
21. No sooner did this treatise appear in public, but it was greedily bought up, and becom the subject of all men’s discourse. The first that made exceptions to it was Dr. Henry Ferne, afterwards bishop of Chester. The lady Ashton presented him with one of the books, and desir’d his opinion of it, which he quickly sent in such a manner as shew’d he did not approve of the doctrin, tho he treated the person and his learning with due respect. To this letter a reply was made, and som querys sent along with it by Harrington, to every one of which a distinct answer was return’d by the doctor; which being again confuted by Harrington, he publish’d the whole in the year 1656, under the title of Pian Piano, or an Intercourse between H. Fernedoctor in divinity, andJames Harrington,Esq; upon occasion of the doctor’s censure of the commonwealth of Oceana. ’Tis a treatise of little importance, and contains nothing but what he has much better discours’d in his answers to other antagonists, which is the reason that I give the reader no more trouble about it.
22. The next that wrote against Oceana was Matthew Wren, eldest son to the bishop of Ely. His book was intitl’d Considerations, and restrain’d only to the first part of the preliminarys. To this our author publish’d an answer in the first book of his Prerogative of Popular Government, where he inlarges, explains, and vindicats his assertions. How inequal this combat was, and after what manner he treated his adversary, I leave the reader to judg; only minding him that as Wren was one of the virtuosi who met at Dr. Wilkins’s (the seminary of the now royal society) Harrington jokingly said, That they had an excellent faculty of magnifying a louse, and diminishing a commonwealth. But the subjects he handles on this occasion are very curious, and reduc’d to the twelve following questions:
(1) Whether prudence (or the politics) be well distinguish’d into antient and modern?
(2.) Whether a commonwealth be rightly defin’d to be a government of laws and not of men; and monarchy to be a government of som men or a few men, and not of laws?
(3.) Whether the balance of dominion in land be the natural cause of empire?
(4.) Whether the balance of empire be well divided into national and provincial? and whether these two, or any nations that are of a distinct balance, coming to depend on one and the same head, such a mixture creates a new balance?
(5.) Whether there be any common right or interest of mankind distinct from the interest of the parts taken severally? and how by the orders of a commonwealth this may best be distinguish’d from privat interest?
(6.) Whether the senatusconsulta, or decrees of the Roman senat, had the power of laws?
(7.) Whether the ten commandments, propos’d by God or Moses, were voted and past into laws by the people of Israel?
(8.) Whether a commonwealth, coming up to the perfection of the kind, coms not up to the perfection of government, and has no flaw in it? that is, whether the best commonwealth be not the best government?
(9.) Whether monarchy, coming up to the perfection of the kind, coms not short of the perfection of government, and has not som flaw in it? that is, whether the best monarchy be not the worst government? Under this head are also explain’d the balance of France, the original of a landed clergy, arms, and their several kinds.
(10.) Whether any commonwealth, that was not first broken or divided by it self, was ever conquer’d by any monarch? where he shews that none ever were, and that the greatest monarchys have bin broken by very small commonwealths.
(11.) Whether there be not an agrarian, or som law or laws to supply the defects of it, in every commonwealth? Whether the agrarian, as it is stated in Oceana, be not equally satisfactory to all interests or partys?
(12.) Whether a rotation, or courses and turns, be necessary to a well-order’d commonwealth? In which is contain’d the parembole or courses of Israel before the captivity, together with an epitome of the commonwealth of Athens, as also another of the commonwealth of Venice.
23. The second book of the Prerogative of Popular Government chiefly concerns ordination in the Christian church, and the orders of the commonwealth of Israel, against the opinions of Dr. Hammond, Dr. Seaman, and the authors they follow. His dispute with these learned persons (the one of the Episcopal, and the other of the Presbyterian communion) is comprehended in five chapters.
(1.) The first, explaining the words chirotonia and chirothesia, paraphrastically relates the story of the perambulation made by the apostles Paul and Barnabas thro the citys of Lycaonia, Pisidia, &c.
(2.) The second shews that those citys, or most of ’em, were at the time of this perambulation under popular government; in which is also contain’d the whole administration of a Roman province.
(3.) The third shews the deduction of the chirotonia, or holding up of hands, from popular government, and that the original of ordination is from this custom; in which is also contain’d the institution of the sanhedrim or senat of Israel by Moses, and of that of Rome by Romulus.
(4.) The fourth shews the deduction of the chirothesia, or the laying on of hands, from monarchical or aristocratical government, and so the second way of ordination proceeds from this custom: here is also declar’d how the commonwealth of the Jews stood after the captivity.
(5.) The fifth debates whether the chirotonia us’d in the citys mention’d was (as is pretended by Dr. Hammond, Dr. Seaman, and the authors they follow) the same with the chirothesia, or a far different thing. In which are contain’d the divers kinds of church government introduc’d and exercis’d in the age of the apostles. By these heads we may perceive that a great deal of useful learning is contain’d in this book; and questionless he makes those subjects more plain and intelligible than any writer I ever yet consulted.
24. AgainstOceana chiefly did Richard Baxter write his Holy Commonwealth, of which our author made so slight, that he vouchsaf’d no other answer to it but half a sheet of cant and ridicule. It dos not appear that he rail’d at all the ministers as a parcel of fools and knaves. But the rest of Baxter’s complaint seems better grounded, as that Harrington maintain’d neither he nor any ministers understood at all what polity was, but prated against they knew not what, &c. This made him publish his Holy Commonwealth in answer toHarrington’s Heathenish Commonwealth; in which, adds he, I plead the cause of monarchy as better than democracy or aristocracy; an odd way of modelling a commonwealth. And yet the royalists were so far from thinking his book for their service, that in the year 1683 it was by a decree of the university of Oxford condemn’d to be publicly burnt; which sentence was accordingly executed upon it, in company with some of the books of Hobbes, Milton, and others; wheras no censure past on Harrington’sOceana, or the rest of his works. As for divines meddling with politics, he has in the former part of the preliminarys to Oceana deliver’d his opinion, That there is somthing first in the making of a commonwealth, then in the governing of it, and last of all in the leading of its armys, which (tho there be great divines, great lawyers, great men in all professions) seems to be peculiar only to the genius of a gentleman: for it is plain in the universal series of story, that if any man founded a commonwealth, he was first a gentleman; the truth of which assertion he proves from Moses downwards.
25. Being much importun’d from all hands to publish an abridgment of his Oceana, he consented at length; and so, in the year 1659, was printed his Art of Lawgiving (or of legislation) in three books. The first, which treats of the foundation and superstructures of all kinds of government, is an abstract of his preliminarys to the Oceana: and the third book, shewing a model of popular government fitted to the present state or balance of this nation, is an exact epitome of his Oceana, with short discourses explaining the propositions. By the way, the pamphlet called the Rota is nothing else but these propositions without the discourses, and therfore, to avoid a needless repetition, not printed among his works. The second book between these two, is a full account of the commonwealth of Israel, with all the variations it underwent. Without this book it is plainly impossible to understand that admirable government concerning which no author wrote common sense before Harrington, who was persuaded to complete this treatise by such as observ’d his judicious remarks on the same subject in his other writings. To the Art of Lawgiving is annex’d a small dissertation, or a Word concerning a House of Peers, which to abridg were to transcribe.
26. In the same year, 1659, Wren coms out with another book call’d Monarchy asserted, in vindication of his Considerations. If he could not press hard on our author’s reasonings, he was resolv’d to overbear him with impertinence and calumny, treating him neither with the respect due to a gentleman, nor the fair dealing becoming an ingenuous adversary, but on the contrary with the utmost chicanery and insolence. The least thing to be admir’d is, that he would needs make the university a party against him, and bring the heavy weight of the church’s displeasure on his shoulders: for as corrupt ministers stile themselves the government, by which artifice they oblige better men to suppress their complaints, for fear of having their loyalty suspected; so every ignorant pedant that affronts a gentleman, is presently a learned university; or if he is but in deacon’s orders, he’s forthwith transform’d into the catholic church, and it becoms sacrilege to touch him. But as great bodys no less than privat persons, grow wiser by experience, and com to a clearer discernment of their true interest; so I believe that neither the church no universitys will be now so ready to espouse the quarrels of those, who, under pretence of serving them, ingage in disputes they no ways understand, wherby all the discredit redounds to their patrons, themselves being too mean to suffer any diminution of honor. Harrington was not likewise less blamable in being provok’d to such a degree by this pitiful libel, as made him forget his natural character of gravity and greatness of mind. Were not the best of men subject to their peculiar weaknesses, he had never written such a farce as his Politicaster, or Comical Discourse in answer to Mr.Wren. It relates little or nothing to the argument, which was not so much amiss, considering the ignorance of his antagonist: but it is of so very small merit, that I would not insert it among his other works, as a piece not capable to instruct or please any man now alive. I have not omitted his Answer to Dr.Stubbeconcerning a select senat, as being so little worth; but as being only a repetition of what he has much better and more amply treated in some of his other pieces. Now we must note, that upon the first appearance of his Oceana this Stubbe was so great an admirer of him, that, in his preface to the Good Old Cause, he says he would inlarge in his praise, did he not think himself too inconsiderable to add any thing to those applauses which the understanding part of the world must bestow upon him, and which, tho eloquence should turn panegyrist, he not only merits but transcends.
27. Other treatises of his, which are omitted for the same reason, are, 1. A Discourse upon this Saying, The Spirit of the Nation is not yet to be trusted with Liberty, lest it introduce Monarchy, or invade the Liberty of Conscience; which proposition he disapprov’d. 2. A Discourse shewing that the Spirit of Parlaments, with a Council in the Intervals, is not to be trusted for a Settlement, lest it introduce Monarchy, and Persecution for Conscience. 3. A Parallel of the Spirit of the People with the Spirit of Mr.Rogers,with an Appeal to the Reader, whether the Spirit of the People, or the Spirit of Men like Mr.Rogers,be the fitter to be trusted with the Government. This Rogers was an Anabaptist, a seditious enthusiast, or fifthmonarchy man. 4. Pour enclour le canon, or the nailing of the Enemys Artillery. 5. The Stumbling-block of Disobedience and Rebellion, cunningly imputed byPeter HeylintoCalvin,remov’d in a Letter to the said P. H. who wrote a long answer to it in the third part of his letter combat. ’Tis obvious by the bare perusal of the titles, that these are but pamphlets solely calculated for that time; and it certainly argues a mighty want of judgment in those editors who make no distinction between the elaborat works which an author intended for universal benefit, and his more slight or temporary compositions, which were written to serve a present turn, and becom afterwards not only useless, but many times not intelligible. Of this nature are the pieces I now mention’d: all their good things are much better treated in his other books, and the personal reflections are (as I said before) neither instructive nor diverting. On this occasion I must signify, that tho the history I wrote of Milton’s life be prefix’d to his works, yet I had no hand in the edition of those volumes; or otherwise his logic, his grammar, and the like, had not increas’d the bulk or price of his other useful pieces. Our author translated into English verse som of Virgil’s Eclogs, and about six books of his Æneids; which, with his Epigrams, and other poetical conceits, are neither worthy of him nor the light.
28. Som other small books he wrote which are more deserving, and therfore transmitted to posterity with his greater works; namely, 1. Valerius and Publicola,or, The true Form of a Popular Commonwealth, a dialog. 2. Political Aphorisms, in number 120. 3. Seven Models of a Commonwealth, antient and modern; or, Brief Directions shewing how a fit and perfect Model of Popular Government may be made, found, or understood. These are all the commonwealths in the world for their kinds, tho not for their number. 4. The Ways and Means whereby an equal and lasting Commonwealth may be suddenly introduc’d, and perfectly founded, with the free Consent and actual Confirmation of the whole People of England. 5. There is added, The Petition of divers well-affected Persons, drawn up by Harrington, and containing the abstract of his Oceana; but presented to the house of commons by Henry Nevil the 6th of July 1659, to which a satisfactory answer was return’d, but nothing don. 6. Besides all these, finding his doctrin of elections by balloting not so well understood as could be desir’d, he publish’d on one side of a large sheet of paper, his Use and Manner of the Ballot, with a copper cut in the middle representing such an election in the great assembly of the commonwealth: but ’tis now inserted in its proper place in the body of Oceana. Most of these contain abridgments of his model, adapted to the various circumstances and occurrences of those times; but containing likewise som materials peculiar to themselves, and for that reason thought fit to be printed a second time. He did not write The Grounds and Reasons of Monarchy exemplify’d in the Scotish Line (which book is prefix’d to his works) but one John Hall, born in the city of Durbam, educated at Cambridg, and a student of Gray’s Inn. Being commanded by the counsil of state (of whom he had a yearly pension) to attend Oliver into Scotland, it occasion’d him to publish that piece. He wrote several other things in prose and verse, and dy’d before he was fully thirty, lamented as a prodigy of his age.
29. Harrington having thus exhausted all that could be written on this subject, he likewise indeavor’d to promote his cause by public discourses at a nightly meeting of several curious gentlemen in the New Palace Yard at Westminster. This club was call’d the Rota, of which I shall give a short account from Anthony Wood, who mortally hated all republicans, and was as much prejudic’d in favor of the royalists, tho, to his honor be it spoken, he never deny’d justice to either side. “Their discourses about government, says he, and of ordering a commonwealth, were the most ingenious and smart-that ever were heard; for the arguments in the parlament-house were but flat to those. This gang had a balloting box, and balloted how things should be carry’d by way of essay; which not being us’d or known in England before on this account, the room was every evening very full. Besides our author and H. Nevil, who were the prime men of this club, were Cyriac Skinner, Major Wildman, Major Venner, Charles Wolsley, afterwards knighted, Roger Coke, the author of the Detection of the four last Reigns,William Poultney, afterwards made a knight, John Aubry, Maximilian Petty, and Dr. Petty, who was afterwards Sir William, Sir John Hoskyns, and a great many others, som wherof are still living.—The doctrin was very taking, and the more because, as to human foresight, there was no possibility of the king’s return. The greatest of the parlamentmen hated this rotation and balloting, as being against their power. Eight or ten were for it, of which number H. Nevil was one, who propos’d it to the house, and made it out to the members, that, except they imbrac’d that sort of government, they must be ruin’d. The model of it was, that the third part of the senat or house should rote out by ballot every year (not capable of being elected again for three years to com) so that every ninth year the senat would be wholly alter’d. No magistrat was to continue above three years, and all to be chosen by the ballot, than which nothing could be invented more fair and impartial, as ’twas then thought, tho oppos’d by many for several reasons. This club of commonwealthsmen lasted till about the 21st of Febr. 1659, at which time the secluded members being restor’d by General George Monk, all their models vanish’d.”
30. When the whole matter is duly consider’d, it’s impossible a commonwealth should have succeded in England at that time, since Cromwel, who alone had the power, yet wanted the will to set it up. They were comparatively but very few that entertain’d such a design from the beginning of the troubles; and, as it usually happens, a great part of these did afterwards desert their principles, being seduc’d by the honors and preferments wherby they were retain’d in the service of the reigning powers. The body of the people were either exasperated on a religious account, only to obtain that liberty which they afterwards mutually deny’d each other, or by the change of the balance they grew weary of monarchy, and did not know it. The republicans indeed made an advantage of their discontents to destroy the establish’d government, without acquainting ’em with their real designs; and when this was effectually don, the people (who had no settl’d form in their view, and thought all things safe by the victory they had gain’d over the king and the church) fell in with what was first offer’d by those in whom they confided, and would as well have accepted a better government if they had been manag’d by men of honest and public designs. But the multitude can feel, tho they cannot see. Instead of injoying their desir’d liberty, they soon found themselves under a most heavy yoke, which they naturally labor’d to shake off; and yet in all the changes then made, two things were remarkable, that every one of ’em would be stil’d a commonwealth, and yet none of ’em would mend or take warning by the errors of those that preceded, but still continu’d to abuse the nation, and unnaturally to ingross the government into a few hands. The people being all this while told they were under a commonwealth, and not being able to see thro the deceit, begun to think themselves mistaken in the choice they had made, since their sufferings under these pretended commonwealths were infinitly greater than what induc’d ’em to dissolve the former monarchy. In this condition the several partys might (as Harrington us’d to say) be fitly compar’d to a company of puppydogs in a bag, where finding themselves uneasy for want of room, every one of ’em bites the tail or foot of the next, supposing that to be the cause of his misery. By this means whatever was said against a commonwealth obtain’d ready belief, as, that it is the most seditious sort of government, and that instead of one tyrant there are a great many, who inrich themselves by laying intolerable taxes on others. All this and much more the people in England then experienc’d, and therfore detesting their new commonwealth, they reftor’d the old monarchy. But to do all governments the justice due from an impartial historian, they never had a commonwealth, but were interchangeably under anarchy, tyranny, and oligarchy, to which commonwealths have ever bin the greatest enemys, and have frequently lent their voluntary assistance to deliver other nations from the like oppressions. Thus the people of England came to hate the name of a commonwealth, without loving their liberty the less.
31. But to return whence we digress’d: Our author, not concern’d in the excessive fears and hopes of those that favor’d or oppos’d the restoration of Charles the Second, continu’d to live in a peaceable manner at his own house, demeaning himself as became a person blindly ingag’d to no party or factions. But tho his life was retir’d, it was not solitary, being frequented with people of all sorts, som with a malicious design to fish somthing to his prejudice, and others to gain advantage to themselves by his learned conversation, or to put him upon somthing towards the better settlement of the kingdom. Among these there was an eminent royalist, who prevail’d with him to draw up som instructions for the king’s service, wherby he might be inabl’d to govern with satisfaction to the people and safety to himself: which being perform’d and sign’d with his own hand, his friend, after shewing it to several of the courtiers, found they did not approve a scheme that was not likely to further their selfish designs. At last he put his paper into the hands of a great minister about the king; and how well our author was rewarded for his good intentions, we are now going to relate. About this time he was busy in reducing his politics into short and easy aphorisms, yet methodically digested in their natural order, and suted to the most vulgar capacitys. Of this he made no secret, and freely communicated his papers to all that visited him. While he was putting the last hand to this system, and as an innocent man apprehensive of no danger, he was by an order from the king, on the 28th of December 1661, seiz’d by Sir William Poultney and others, and committed to the tower of London for treasonable designs and practices. He had the written sheets of his aphorisms then lying loose on the table before him, and understanding they intended to carry ’em to the council, he beg’d the favor that he might stitch ’em together; which was granted, and so remov’d with som other papers to Whitehall. I have that manuscript now in my hands, and another copy of the same which was given me by one of his acquaintance, from both which I have printed it among the rest of his works. It is a complete System of Politics, and discovers the true springs of the rise, temper, and dissolution of all sorts of governments, in a very brief and perspicuous manner.
32. He had no time given him to take leave of any body, but was straight convey’d to the Tower, where none were allow’d to com to his sight or speech. His sisters were inconsolable, and the more so, the less they knew what was laid to their brother’s charge. One of them, who on another occasion had experienc’d the king’s favour, threw her self now at his feet, and petition’d him to have compassion on her brother, who thro a great mistake was fallen under his majesty’s displeasure: for as she was sure that none of his subjects exceded his loyalty, so his majesty might see he was not the man they design’d, since the warrant was for Sir James Harrington, wheras her brother was never honor’d with such a title by his majesty’s ancestors, and he would not have accepted it from Oliver. To this the king made answer, that tho they might be mistaken in his title, he doubted he might be found more guilty of the crimes alleg’d against him, than he wish’d any brother of hers to be. Then she press’d he might be examin’d before his majesty, or be brought to a speedy trial. Shortly after my Lord Lauderdale, Sir George Carteret, and Sir Edward Walker, were sent to the Tower to question him about a plot which, they said, he had contriv’d against his majesty’s person and government. At this he was extraordinarily reviv’d, not being able to divine before the cause of his confinement, and knowing himself wholly innocent of this charge. He found means to transmit a copy of his examination to his sisters, giving ’em leave to publish it, which was never hitherto don, and is as follows:
Sir, I have heretofore accounted it an honor to be your kinsman, but am now sorry to see you upon this occasion; very sorry, I assure you.
My lord, seeing this is an occasion, I am glad to see you upon this occasion. Which said, the commissioners sat down; and Mr. Harrington standing before my lord, he began in this manner.
Sir, the king thinks it strange that you, who have so eminently appear’d in principles contrary to his majesty’s government, and the laws of this nation, should ever since he came over live so quiet and unmolested, and yet should be so ungrateful. Were you disturb’d? were you so much as affronted, that you should enter into such desperat practices?
My lord, when I know why this is said, I shall know what to say.
Well then, without any longer preamble, will you answer me ingenuously, and as you are a gentleman, to what I have to propose?
My lord, I value the asseveration (as I am a gentleman) as high as any man, but think it an asseveration too low upon this occasion; wherfore, with your leave, I shall make use of som greater asseveration.
For that do as you see good: do you know Mr. Wildman?
My lord, I have som acquaintance with him.
When did you see him?
My lord, he and I have not bin in one house together these two years.
Will you say so?
Yes, my lord.
Where did you see him last?
About a year ago I met him in a street that gos to Drury-lane.
Did you go into no house?
No, my lord.
Com, this will do you no good: had not you, in March last, meetings with him in Bowstreet in Coventgarden? where there were about twenty more of you; where you made a speech about half an hour long, that they should lay by distinguishing names, and betake themselves together into one work, which was to dissolve this parlament, and bring in a new one, or the old one again. Was not this meeting adjourn’d from thence to the Mill Bank? were not you there also?
My lord, you may think, if these things be true, I have no refuge but to the mercy of God and of the king.
Well then, my lord, solemnly and deliberately, with my eyes to heaven, I renounce the mercy of God and the king, if any of this be true, or if ever I I thought or heard of this till now that you tell it me.
This is strange!
Do you know Barebones?
Yes, my lord.
When did you see him?
I think that I have call’d at his house or shop thrice in my life.
Had you never any meetings with him since the king came over?
No, my lord.
This is strange!
Do you know Mr. Nevil?
Very well, my lord.
When did you see him?
My lord, I seldom us’d to visit him; but when he was in town, he us’d to see me at my house every evening, as duly almost as the day went over his head.
Were you not with him at som public meeting?
My lord, the publickest meeting I have bin with him at, was at dinner at his own lodging, where I met Sir Bernard Gascoin, and I think Col. Leg.
They were good safe company.
What time was it?
In venison time I am sure, for we had a good venison pasty.
Do you know one Portman?
No, my lord, I never heard of his name before.
This is strange!
Com, deal ingenuously, you had better confess the things.
My lord, you do not look upon me (for I saw he did not firmly) I pray look upon me. Do you not know an innocent face from a guilty one? com, you do, my lord, every one dos: my lord, you are great men, you com from the king, you are the messengers of death.
Is that a small matter? (at which my lord gave a shrug.)
If I be a malefactor, I am no old malefactor: why am not I pale? why do not I tremble? why dos not my tongue falter? why have you not taken me tripping? My lord, these are unavoidable symtoms of guilt. Do you find any such thing in me?
No (which he spoke with a kind of amazement) and then added, I have said all that I think I have to say.
My lord, but I have not.
This plainly is a practice, a wicked practice, a practice for innocent blood; and as weak a one as it is wicked. Ah, my lord, if you had taken half the pains to examin the guilty that you have don to examin the innocent, you had found it; it could not have escap’d you. Now, my lord, consider if this be a practice, what kind of persons you are that are thus far made instrumental in the hands of wicked men. Nay, whither will wickedness go? Is not the king’s authority (which should be sacred) made instrumental? My lord, for your own sake, the king’s fake, for the Lord’s sake, let such villanys be found out and punish’d. At this my lord Lauderdale, as was thought somwhat out of countenance, rose up; and fumbling with his hand upon the table, said:
Why if it be as you say, they deserve punishment enough, but otherwise look it will com severely upon you.
My lord, I accepted of that condition before.
Com, Mr. Vice-Chamberlain, it is late.
My lord, now if I might I could answer the preamble.
Com, say; and so he sat down again.
My lord, in the preamble you charge me with being eminent in principles contrary to the king’s government, and the laws of this nation. Som, my lord, have aggravated this, saying, that I being a privat man have bin so mad as to meddle with politics: what had a privat man to do with government? My lord, there is not any public person, not any magistrat, that has written in the politics worth a button. All they that have bin excellent in this way, have bin privat men, as privat men, my lord, as my self. There is Plato, there is Aristotle, there is Livy, there is Machiavel. My lord, I can sum up Aristotle’spolitics in a very few words; he says there is the barbarous monarchy (such a one where the people have no votes in making the laws) he says there is the heroic monarchy (such a one where the people have their votes in making the laws) and then he says there is democracy; and affirms that a man cannot be said to have liberty, but in a democracy only.
My lord Lauderdale, who thus far had bin very attentive, at this shew’d som impatience.
I say, Aristotle says so; I have not said so much. And under what prince was it? Was it not under Alexander, the greatest prince then in the world? I beseech you, my lord, did Alexander hang up Aristotle, did he molest him? Livy for a commonwealth is one of the fullest authors; did not he write under Augustus Cæsar? did Cæsar hang up Livy, did he molest him? Machiavel, what a commonwealthsman was he? but he wrote under the Medici when they were princes in Florence; did they hang up Machiavel, or did they molest him? I have don no otherwise than as the greatest politicians, the king will do no otherwise than as the greatest princes. But, my lord, these authors had not that to say for themselves that I have; I did not write under a prince, I wrote under a usurper, Oliver. He having started up into the throne, his officers (as pretending to be for a commonwealth) kept a murmuring, at which he told them that he knew not what they meant, nor themselves; but let any of them shew him what they meant by a commonwealth (or that there was any such thing) they should see that he sought not himself: the Lord knew he sought not himself, but to make good the cause. Upon this som sober men came to me and told me, if any man in England could shew what a commonwealth was, it was my self. Upon this persuasion I wrote; and after I had written, Oliver never answer’d his officers as he had don before, therfore I wrote not against the king’s government. And for the law, if the law could have punish’d me, Oliver had don it; therfore my writing was not obnoxious to the law. After Oliver the parlament said they were a commonwealth; I said they were not, and prov’d it: insomuch that the parlament accounted me a cavalier, and one that had no other design in my writing, than to bring in the king; and now the king first of any man makes me a roundhead.
These things are out of doors; if you be no plotter, the king dos not reflect upon your writings.
And so rising up, they went out; my lord being at the head of the stairs, I said to him, My lord, there is one thing more; you tax me with ingratitude to the king, who had suffer’d me to live undisturb’d: truly, my lord, had I bin taken right by the king, it had (by this example already given) bin no more than my due. But I know well enough I have bin mistaken by the king; the king therfore taking me for no friend, and yet using me not as an enemy, is such a thing as I have mention’d to all I have convers’d with, as a high character of ingenuity and honor in the king’s nature.
I am glad you have had a sense of it; and so went down.
My lord, it is my duty to wait on you no farther.
34. Notwithstanding the apparent innocence of our author, he was still detain’d a close prisoner; and chancellor Hide, at a conference of the lords and commons, charg’d him with being concern’d in the plot, wherof one and thirty persons were the chief managers, after this manner: That they met in Bowstreet, Coventgarden, in St. Martin’s-le-grand, at the Mill-Bank, and in other places; and that they were of seven different partys or interests, as three for the commonwealth, three for the long parlament, three for the city, three for the purchasers, three for the disbanded army, three for the independents, and three for the fifthmonarchy men. That their first consideration was how to agree on the choice of parlamentmen against the insuing fession: and that a special care ought to be had about members for the city of London, as a precedent for the rest of the kingdom to follow; wherupon they nominated the four members after chosen, and now sitting in parlament: but three of these, being then present, stood up, and clear’d themselves of this aspersion. Their next care was to frame a petition to the parlament for a preaching ministry, and liberty of conscience. Then they were to divide and subdivide themselves into several councils and committees, for the better carrying on their business by themselves or their agents and accomplices all over the kingdom. In these meetings Harrington was said to be often in the chair; that they had taken an oath of secresy, and concerted measures for levying men and mony.
35. The chancellor added, that tho he had certain information of the times and places of their meetings, and particularly those of Harrington and Wildman, they were nevertheless so fixt in their nefarious design, that none of those they had taken would confess any thing, not so much as that they had seen or spoken to one another at those times or places: which obstinacy he thought must needs procede from a faithfulness to their oath. But a committee of lords and commons, after several sittings, could make nothing of this imaginary plot, and did not ever name our author in all their reports.
36. His sisters in the mean time being impatient to see him, and to know his condition, after several fruitless petitions, obtain’d an order of council at last to be admitted into the Tower, where they found him barbarously treated by the lieutenant, whom they sosten’d into more humanity with a present of fifty pounds under the notion of fees. By them he deliver’d a petition to the king, importing, that in the late times he was no public person, nor acted to any man’s detriment in his life, body, or estate, but on the contrary had don his endeavors to help all persons in distress; that he had oppos’d the usurper in such a manner as was judg’d even by the royalists themselves to be very much to his disadvantage; and that it was not probable that he, who had liv’d so peaceably before, would attempt any novelty after his majesty’s restoration: wherefore he beg’d the favor of a public trial, or a more easy confinement. But tho he had bin now a prisoner during the space of five months, neither he nor any on his behalf could receive an answer to their petitions; which made him somwhat impatient, not so much to injoy his liberty, as to vindicat himself from the base aspersions of his enemys. He therfore continually urged his fister Ashton to procure him a trial, which she not being able to effect, he petition’d the parlament, shewing that he had lain a close prisoner in the Tower for five months upon a bare suspicion of som disaffection to the government, which in all his examinations did not in the least appear; and that he hop d e’er that time so to have clear’d his innocence by a public trial, as to deserve his liberty. But because he understood these matters were in som measure represented to their house, he would not presume, without first making his application to them, to sue for his freedom by other legal means. “May it therefore please this honorable house, says he, to take tender consideration of the sufferings of an Englishman hitherto innocent; and that the long continuance of him in prison without trial may be hereafter the case of others, and a precedent for the like case: and that this honorable house would please to move his majesty that your petitioner may be proceded against by a legal way of trial, or that he may have his freedom; that so he may no longer languish in prison to the ruin of his health and estate.” These are not the words of a man conscious of guilt, or afraid of power.
37. His sister could get no member to deliver this petition, or to give her any incouragement; som alleging that she was more likely to destroy than serve her brother, and others, that by unseasonable pressing she might precipitat his danger; wheras if he would be patient under his sufferings, he might be safe in his restraint. Then he advis’d her to move for his habeas corpus; which at first was flatly deny’d, but afterwards when it was granted and duly serv’d, his warder came one day to his sisters at Westminster, and acquainted them, that between one and two a clock that morning their brother was put on board a ship to be transported he knew not whither, without any time given him either to see his friends, or to make provision of mony, linen, or other necessarys. Nor could his relations for a whole fortnight, either at the Tower or in the secretarys office, learn what was becom of him, till they receiv’d a note from himself on board one of the king’s ships then lying under Hurst castle, informing them that he believ’d he was bound for Plymouth. About a month after he sent ’em word by another letter that he was landed on a kind of rock opposite to Plymouth, call’d St. Nicholas’s Island, whence he afterwards had frequent opportunitys of writing to ’em many pious and moral admonitions, as well as letters of business and entertainment.
38. But his close restraint to this small spot of earth, where there was no fresh water, and scarce any room to move his body, quickly chang’d the state of his health; this occasion’d him to petition he might be remov’d to Plymouth, which was granted, his brother William, and his uncle Anthony Samuel, obliging themselves in a bond of 5000 l. for his safe imprisonment. Here he had not only the liberty of walking on the hoe, but was also us’d with extraordinary respect by the deputy-governor of the fort, Sir John Skelton, who frequently invited him to his table, and much lov’d his conversation. Among the other acquaintance he made at Plymouth, one was Dr. Dunstan, who advis’d him to take a preparation of guaiacum in coffee, as a certain cure for the scurvy, with which he was then troubled. He drank of this liquor in great quantitys, every morning and evening. But after using it for som time, his sisters, to their no small amazement, receiv’d no more answers to their letters. At length advice was brought ’em from his landlady, that his fancy was much disorder’d, and desiring som body might com to look after him. Immediately one of them address’d her self to the earl of Bath, then chief governor of Plymouth, and inform’d him of his prisoner’s sad condition. This noble lord, who laid many obligations on him before, and gave frequent orders for his good usage, went hereupon to intercede for him with the king, representing the danger of his life if he were not remov’d from that unwholsom place to London, where he might have the advice of able physicians: and the king was accordingly pleas’d to grant a warrant for his release, since nothing appear’d against him supported by good proof or probable presumtions.
39. The next day the lady Ashton, with another of his sisters, took their journey towards Plymouth, where they found their poor brother so transform’d in body and mind, that they scarce could persuade themselves it was the same person. He was reduc’d to a skeleton, not able to walk alone, slept very little, his imagination disturb’d, often fainted when he took his drink, and yet so fond of it that he would by no means be advis’d to forbear it. Dr. Prujean, and other eminent physicians, greatly blam’d Dr. Dunsten’s prescriptions, giving their opinion under their hands, that guaiacum and the other drying things, which he administer’d to his patient in coffee, were enough of themselves to beget melancholy or phrenzy, where there was no previous disposition to it. A rumor at Plymouth, that Harrington had taken some drink which would make any man mad in a month; the surliness of his doctor, and somthing blab’d by a maid that was put against his will to attend him, made his sister suspect he had foul play lest he should write any more Oceanas. ’Tis certain, that (tho his recovery was never perfect) he mended finely as soon as he was persuaded to abstain from this liquor. In less than a month he was able to bear the journey to London in a coach, where he was no sooner arriv’d, but Sir John Skelton, who was then in town, paid him a visit. My lady Ashton complaining to him that she had not timely notice of her brother’s distemper, he protested he would have sent her word of it, had not his doctor assur’d him that he only counterfeited; and yet at the same time he made him take strong doses of hellebor, and God knows what besides.
40. He past som time at Ashted in Surrey, to drink the Epsom waters, by which he found no benefit. At London he was put wholly under the care of Dr. Prujean, who with all his art could afford little help to the weakness of his body, and none at all to the disorder of his mind, to his dying day. He was allow’d to discourse of most other things as rationally as any man, except his own distemper, fancying strange things in the operation of his animal spirits, which he thought to transpire from him in the shape of birds, of flys, of bees, or the like. And those about him reported that he talk’d much of good and evil spirits, which made them have frightful apprehensions. But he us’d, they said, somtimes to argue so strenuously that this was no deprav’d imagination, that his doctor was often put to his shifts for an answer. He would on such occasions compare himself to Democritus, who for his admirable discoverys in anatomy was reckon’d distracted by his fellow-citizens, till Hippocrates cur’d ’em of their mistake. I confess I did not know at first what to make of these things from the informations of his acquaintance, till I met with a letter of Dr. Burthogge to his sister, wherin are contain’d certain querys propos’d to him by Harrington, with a state of his case written by the doctor, who was his intimat friend, and a very good judg, whether consider’d as a physician or a philosopher, as appears by his late treatise of the Soul of the World, &c. and as I have particular reason to affirm from his letters to my lady Ashton, which are all now before me. Among other things the doctor says, that he ever exprest the highest satisfaction in thinking of what he had at any time written, as the best service he was capable to do his country, and sincerely intended by him to the glory of God, which he thought in som measure to be the good of mankind: so far was he from being under any remorse of conscience on that score, as his ill-wishers maliciously reported. Now, tho I was somwhat stagger’d concerning the nature of his distemper by Dr. Burthogge’s letter, I grew perfectly amaz’d when I found among his papers the beginning of a little treatise written by himself, wherin (without raillery) he proves ’em to be all mad that thought him so with respect to what he discours’d of nature, which he maintain’d to work mechanically or mathematically, as Bellini, Borelli, Dr. Pitcairne, and other eminent men, have since evidently shewn. It appears there that his pretended visions of angels and devils were nothing else but good or bad animal spirits, and that his flys and bees were only similitudes wherby he us’d to express the various figures and forms of those particles. I own that he might probably enough be much decay’d in his understanding, by reason of his great and long weakness of body; but I shall never be convinc’d that he was delirious in that only instance which they allege: and to satisfy the learned in this point (which, in my opinion, is a memorable story that concerns ’em all) I shall subjoin his own discourse to this history.
41. Were he really out of order, it had bin his misfortune, not his fault, and was the case of som of the best men that ever liv’d. An action that will better persuade the world he was not truly himself, was his marrying in this condition. The lady was a very agreeable woman, whose person and conversation he always admir’d; she was the daughter of Sir Marmaduke Dorrel of Buckinghamshire, fam’d for wit more than became her pretensions to good sense, had long liv’d among his relations with the respect of a friend and a sister; but now would needs change the office of a voluntary attendant for the name of a wife. It soon appear’d that this match was not so much disinterested as she would pretend, which occasion’d som difference between ’em; but they were quickly reconcil’d, and she was always treated by him afterwards with the highest generosity, tho she did not use him so handsomly when they were both young and healthy, and might have made a more seasonable match than at this time. Towards his latter end he was subject to the gout, and enjoy’d little ease, but languishing and drooping a good while, he fell at last into a palsy, and departed this life at Westminster, the 11th of September, in the year 1677 (leaving his estate to his brother’s children) and lys bury’d there in St. Margaret’s church, on the south side of the altar, next to the grave of Sir Walter Raleigh, with this inscription over him: Hic jacetJacobus HarringtonArmiger (filius maximus natuSapcotis Harringtonde Rand, in Com. Linc. Equitis aurati, &Janæuxoris ejus, filiæGulielmi Samuelde Upton in Com. Northamton, Militis) qui obiit septimo die Septembris, ætatis suæ sexagesimo sexto, anno Dom. 1677. Nec virtus, nec animi dotes (arrha licet æterni in animam amoris Dei) corruptione eximere queant corpus.
42. Thus dy’d James Harrington, whose name is sure to live so long as learning and liberty bear any reputation in England. But tho he did not think so highly of himself, yet he was strongly persuaded that his Oceana was the model of an equal commonwealth, or a government wherin no party can be at variance with or gain ground upon another, and never to be conquer’d by any foren power; whence he concluded it must needs be likewise immortal: for as the people, who are the materials, never dy; so the form, which is the motion, must (without som opposition) be endless. The immortality of a commonwealth is such a new and curious problem, that I could not assure my self of the reader’s pardon, without giving him som brief account of the arguments for it, and they run much after this manner. The perfection of government is such a libration in the frame of it, that no man or men under it can have the interest, or (having the interest) can have the power to disturb it with sedition. This will be granted at first sight, and Harrington appeals to all mankind, whether his Oceana (examin’d by this principle) be not such an equal government, completely and intirely fram’d in all its necessary orders or fundamental laws, without any contradiction to it self, to reason, or truth. If this be so (as the contrary dos not yet appear) then it has no internal cause of dissolution, and consequently such a government can never be ruin’d any way; for he farther shews (what all history cannot contradict) that a commonwealth, if not first broken or divided by factions at home, was never conquer’d by the arms of any monarch from the beginning of the world to this day: but the commonwealth of Oceana having no factions within, and so not to be conquer’d from without, is therfore an equal, perfect, and immortal government. For want of this equality in the frame, he clearly demonstrats how the commonwealths of Rome, Athens, and others, came to be destroy’d by their contending and overtopping partys; wheras that of Venice can never change or finish. He proves that this equality is yet more wanting in monarchys, for an absolute monarchy (as that of the Turk, for example) the Janizarys have frequent interest, and perpetual power to raise sedition to the ruin of the emperor, and, when they please, of the empire: this cannot be said of the armys of Oceana, and therfore an absolute monarchy is no perfect government. In what they improperly call a mix’d monarchy the nobility are somtimes putting chains on the king, at other times domineering over the people; the king is either oppressing the people without control, or contending with the nobility as their protectors; and the people are frequently in arms against both king and nobility, till at last one of the three estates becoms master of the other two, or till they so mutually weaken one another that either they fall a prey to som more potent government, or naturally grow into a commonwealth: therfore mix’d monarchy is not a perfect government; and if no such partys or contentions can possibly exist in Oceana, then on the contrary is it a most equal, perfect, and immortal commonwealth, Quod erat demonstrandum.
43. It will not be objected to the disparagement of this model, that it was no better receiv’d by Oliver Cromwel; nor is it fair to judg of things at any time by their success. If it should be said, that, after the expiration of his tyranny, the people did not think fit to establish it; I shall only answer, that all the attemts which have bin us’d for introducing arbitrary power have prov’d as unfortunat, wherby it appears at least that the character which Tacitus gave the Romans of his time, may as well agree to the people of England: and it is, that They are able to bear neither absolute liberty, nor absolute slavery.
I am dispos’d to believe that my lady Ashton’s memory fail’d her, when she said that her brother was at Rome during the jubilee; for as chronology seems to contradict it, so she might easily mistake the jubilee for the ceremony of consecrating candles, or any other solemnity; his remarks being equally applicable to all those of the Popish church. But as to the whole of this history, tho it be manag’d with due moderation, and contains nothing but bare matters of fact, or such observations as they naturally suggest; yet I was sensible before I wrote it, that I could not escape the displeasure of three sorts of persons: such as have resolv’d to be angry at whatever I do; such as neither rightly understand what is written by me nor any body else; and those who, without any particular spite against an author, yet to get a penny will pretend to answer any book that makes a considerable figure. Therfore I find my self oblig’d beforehand to disclaim all explanations made of my meaning, beyond what is warranted by the express words of my book; having constantly indeavor’d not only to write intelligibly, but so as that none can possibly misunderstand me. I renounce all the designs that may be imputed to me by such as are so far from being admitted into my secret, that they were never in my company; but I especially disown whatever is said by those who first presume to divine my thoughts, and then to vent their own rash conjectures as my undoubted opinions. I slight their artifice who, when unable to object against the point in question, labor to ingage their adversary in matters wholly besides the purpose; and when their evasions have no better fortune than their attacks, fall to railing against his person, because they cannot confute his arguments. I am as much above the malice of som, as they are below my resentments; and I wou’d at any time chuse to be rather the object of their envy than of their favor: but as I am far from thinking my self exemt from all the indiscretions of youth, or the frailtys of human nature; so I am not conscious of entertaining higher thoughts of my own performances than are becoming, or meaner of other mens than they deserve. I know that to enterprize any thing out of the common road is to undergo undoubted envy or peril; and that he, who is not beforehand resolv’d to bear opposition, will never do any great or beneficial exploit: yet ’tis no small incouragement to me, that from the beginning of the world to this time not a single instance can be produc’d of one who either was or would be eminent, but he met with enemys to his person and same. Notwithstanding this consideration be just, yet if I write any thing hereafter (either as oblig’d by duty, or to amuze idle time) I have determin’d it shall not concern personal disputes, or the narrow interests of jarring factions, but somthing of universal benefit, and which all sides may indifferently read. Without such provocations as no man ought to endure, this is my fix’d resolution; and I particularly desire that none may blame me for acting otherwise, who force me to do so themselves. I shall never be wanting to my own defence, when either the cause or the aggressor deserves it: for as to those authors who conceal their names, if they write matters of fact, ’tis a sign they cannot make them good; and all men are agreed to reject their testimony, except such as resolve to deny others common justice: but the ill opinion of these prejudic’d persons can no more injure any man, than their good opinion will do him honor. Besides other reasons of mentioning my suppos’d designs, one is to disabuse several people, who (as I am told) are made to believe, that in the history of Socrates I draw a parallel between that philosopher and Jesus Christ. This is a most scandalous and unchristian calumny, as will more fully appear to the world whenever the book it self is publish’d: for that I have bin som time about it, I freely avow; yet not in the manner those officious informers report, but as becoms a disinterested historian, and a friend to all mankind.
HERE lieth Sir James Harrington of Exton Kt. with(a)Lucy his wife, daughter to Sir William Sidney Kt. by whom he had 18 children, wherof 3 sons and 8 daughters marry’d as follows:
The eldest son, Sir(b)John, marry’d the heiress of Robert Keylwoy, surveyor of the court of wards and liverys. The 2d son, Sir(c)Henry, took to wife one of the coheirs of Francis Agar, one of his Majesty’s Privy Council in Ireland. The 3d son, James(d)Harrington Esq; had to wife one of the coheirs of Robert Sapcotes Esq; The eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was married to Sir Edward(e)Montague Kt. The 2d, Frances, to Sir William(f)Lee Kt. The 3d, Margaret, to Don(g)Bonitto de Sisnores of Spain, of the family of the Dukes of Frantasquo. The 4th, Katherine, to Sir Edward(h)Dimmock Kt. The 5th, Mary, to Sir Edward(i)Wingfield Kt. The 6th, Maball, to Sir Andrew(k)Noell Kt. The 7th, Sarah, was marry’d to the Lord Hastings, heir to the Earl of Huntingdon. The 8th, Theodosia,(l) to the Lord Dudley of Dudley castle.
The same Sir James and Lucy were marry’d fifty years: she died first, in the 72d year of her age; he shortly after yielded to nature, being 80 years old, in the year of our Lord 1591, and of Queen Elizabeth’s reign 34, their son James being made sole executor to them both; who, that he might as well perform to his parents their rites, as leave a testimony of his own piety to posterity, hath erected and dedicated this monument to their eternal memory.
[* ]Wright’s Antiquitys of the county of Rutland, p. 52.
[(a) ]And sister to Sir Philip Sidney Kt.
[(b) ]Who was afterwards created Lord Harrington, and his lady was governess to the Queen of Bohemia. His family is extinct as to heirs male: one of his daughters was marrv’d to the Earl of Bedford, and was Groom of the Stole to Q. Anne. The other was marry’d to a Scotch Lord, whose name was Lord Bruce Earl of Elgin; his grandson now Lord Ailsbury.
[(c) ]Who happen’d to be President of Ireland; and from him descended my Lady Fretchavil’s father, my Lady Morison, and my Lord Falkland’s Lady.
[(d) ]Afterwards Baronet. To him were born Sir Edward Harrington, Sir Sapcotes Harrington, and Mr. John Harrington; who had issue both sons and daughters.
[(e) ]Who was father to the Lord Montague, the Earl of Manchester, and Lord Privy Seal; and Sir Sidney Montague, who was afterwards created Earl of Sandwich; and to the Earl of Rutland’s lady, and Judg Montague
[(f) ]Who was afterwards created Lord Chichester and Earl of Dunsmore; and marry’d one of his daughters to the Earl of Southamton, by whom he had the present Lady Northumberland. And his other daughter marry’d herself to Col. Villers, and is now governess to the Lady Mary, the Duke of York’s eldest daughter.
[(g) ]Which dukedom afterwards fell to him; and by this lady he had one sole daughter and heir, who is said to have marry’d the Duke of Ferio, and by him to have had one daughter, who is marry’d to a King of Portugal.
[(h) ]Of Lincolnshire, the King’s Standard-bearer.
[(i) ]An antient noble family in Kent.
[(k) ]Now Lord Cambden, owner of the place where this monument is.
[(l) ]One of whose daughters marry’d the Earl of Hume in Scotland, and had by him two daughters; one marry’d my Lord Morrice, and the other my Lord Maitland, now Duke of Lauderdale. The other daughter of my Lady Dudley was heir to the honour of Dudley castle; of whose issue by the mother’s side is the present Lord Dudley.
Last modified April 13, 2016