8/6
Cxv.d.14
Isted
ARTES
1817
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
UNUM
UNC
TUEBOR
SI-QUÆRIS-PENINSULAM·AMCZNAM
CUMSPICE
THE LIFE
OF
EDMUND BURKE.
[Entered at Stationers-hall.]
ble
The Rt Hon the Edm² Burke.
:
London Publish'd 19 May 1798, by G. Cawthorn, British Library, Strand.
$
THE LIFE
OF
EDMUND BURKE.
COMPREHENDING AN
IMPARTIAL ACCOUNT
OF HIS
LITERARY AND POLITICAL EFFORTS,
AND A
Sketch of the Conduct and Character
- OF HIS MOST EMINENT
ASSOCIATES, COADJUTORS, AND OPPONENTS.
By ROBERT BISSET, LL.D.
1
LONDON:
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY
GEORGE CAWTHORN, BRITISH LIBRARY, NO. 132, STRAND; AND
SOLD ALSO BY MESSKS. RICHARDSON, ROYAL EXCHANGE;
J. HATCHARD, AND J. Wright, piccADILLY.
1798.
x
DA
506
.B9
BS
Bb
1798
G.L
Pir
Rothschild
1.13.56
95966
$
S
ADVERTISEMENT.
$
GENERAL and special objects, which it
would be the impertinence of egotism to
detail, had long led me to a close contem-
plation of the history, talents, and conduct
of Mr. Burke. I last year wrote a sketch
of his literary and political life for a monthly
publication;* part of which appeared in
the number for May, and the rest after-
wards, though not in continuity.
Finding that sketch favourably received,
and being not without encouragement in
previous opinion and criticism to perseve-
rance in literary exertion, I resolved to ex-
tend the sketch into a minute consideration
of the intellectual, moral, and political his-
*The Scientific Magazine and Freemasons Repository.
耆
​[vi]
า
tory and conduct of Edmund Burke. Un-
avoidable avocations prevented the work
from solely occupying my attention, though
not from occupying it chiefly. The anxiety
of an author leads me to dread that the
per-
spicacious reader will, in the defects, very
readily perceive the intermission, though he
may doubt the exertion, or at least deny it
to have been effectual. The nature of the
subject has necessarily introduced other
characters, especially literary and political.
My desire has been to narrate truely and
appreciate impartially: if I have failed, it
has been an error of judgment, not a mis-
representation of intention.
In the execution of my plan, I have been
assisted with valuable information, for which
I feel greatly indebted to the donors. From
the able and learned Editor of the " Post-
humous Works" I have received many im-
portart facts and observations, not to be
derived from any other source.
As his op-
portunities of knowing action were many,
and his talents for estimating character
great, his communications of the result were
liberal.
3
[vii]
To another member of the same branch
of the legislature I am also very much ob-
liged for many interesting and characteristic
anecdotes, both of the subject and his con-
nections. Burke and his intimates he knew
well, and often bore a part in their serious
-discussions, and in their contests of wit ;
either of which characters he can himself
so ably sustain; fitted to delight convivial
circles by his facetiousness, or to analyse the
mind of a Johnson.
?
From an acute and ingenious literary
friend, a native of the same country, I have
received valuable accessions both of fact and
remark; and, through him, from a learned
gentleman who was intimately connected
with Mr. Burke's son.
I have likewise to add my thanks to a
Reverend gentleman of great erudition for
his communications respecting a celebrated
Dean, and some anecdotes concerning Mr.
Burke.
My acknowledgements are also due to
others. But as, of a mind of so uncom-
mon force and constant operation, many
acts must still remain to be known, further
[viii]
I
*
}
communications will be most thankfully re-
ceived, and are most respectfully solicited,
for a future edition.
1
Sloane-Street, May 22d, 1798.
f
t
{
1
}
CONTENTS.
IMPORTANCE and pleasure of history, page 1. Indivi-
dual character more interesting and instructive than general
measures, ibid. Biography, 2.-Its materials evanescent,
ibid.-Biography, narrative and inductive, ibid.-General
qualifications for each, 4.-Sources of amusement and inte-
rest, advantage of biography, ibid. and 5. Edmund Burke
a most important subject, ibid. and 6.-The opinion of censu-
rers of his recent conduct, 6 to 8.-of approvers, 8 to 10.—
of impartial men, ibid. Author's reason for this work, 11.-
Author neither the friend nor the enemy of Burke, 12.
BURKE's birth, 13.-Parentage, ibid.-School education,
to 14. Compared with his brother Richard, ibid.-at Dub-
lin college, 15-more solicitous of knowledge than distinc-
tion, ibid. Studies, to 18.-First literary essay, the exposure of a
seditious demagogue, 19.-Never studied at St. Omers, ibid.-
always a Protestant, ibid.-Progression of his studies, 20.—
manners and conversation, ibid.-Applies for the Logic pro-
fessorship of Glasgow, 21.-Disappointment of early views
often the means of advancement, 22.-Comes to London, 23.
Enters a member of the Temple, 23.-State of finances,
24-writes for newspapers and magazines, 25.-Property
at first small, 26.-Introduced to Mrs. Woffington, ibid.-
to Dr. Nugent, 27-Marries Miss Nugent, ibid.-publishes
his Vindication of Natural Society, 28 -Object of the work,
ibid.-Account of, to 30.-Character of, 31.-not very suc-
cessful, 32.
Publishes "Sublime and Beautiful," ibid. Compared with
Longinus's Treatise, 33,-Account of, to 35.-character,
35.-success, 36.-establishes Burke's literary fame, ibid.-
He is courted by men of letters, ibid.-Goldsmith, Sir J.,
Reynolds, JOHNSON-Club, 40.-Members, to 42.-Anec-
dotes of Goldsmith at the club, to 46.-Puns, 47-Mutual
b
$
}
CONTENTS.
admiration of Johnson and Burke, ibid.-Garrick, 48.
plans the confutation of Hume's philosophy, 49-is diverted
from the execution-plans the Annual Register, ibid.-
Intimacy with Hamilton, 50.-Talents and attainments of
Hamilton, 51.Burke's writings recommend him to the
Marquis of Rockingham, 52:
Character at entrance into public life, 52 to 54-State of
affairs at his outset, ib.-Pitt, 55-Lord Bute, ibid.-Hatred
of Scotchmen, 57.-Churchill, 58.-Wilkes, 59-North Bri-
ton, ib. Proceedings against Wilkes, 60 to 62.-America, 63,
Mr. Grenville, ibid.-Stamp-act, 64.-Grenville dismissed,
65.-Division of the Whigs, 66.-Rockingham Minister, and
Burke his secretary, 67.-Burke's separation from Hamil-
ton, 68. Hamilton's opinion of Burke, 70, 71.
Burke
enters parliament-Preparation, 72 to 74-first speech ad-
mired by Mr. Pitt, 75.-Examination of the Rockingham
measures for America, 76.-Repeal of stamp-act, 77.-Lord
Rockingham dismissed from office, 78.
New taxes on America,
Lord Chatham resigns
New ministry, ibid. Burke's defence of the Rockingham
administration, 79-his ironical reply to that defence, 80
to 82. Burke in high estimation, ibid.-Account of the Blue
Stocking-club, 83.-Adam Fergusson's answer to a theologi-
cal lady, 84.
Conversation at the club, 85 and 86. Lord
Chatham thwarted by the junto, 87.
88. Burke's speech on the subject, 89.
in disgust, ib.—Character of Burke's eloquence at that time,
90. Wilkes returns to London, 92. Middlesex election, and
consequences, 92 to 94 Parties of opposition, 94. A com-
parison between Burke and Grenville examined, 95 and 96,
Grenville's "Present State of the Nation," 97. Burke's
Observations on the present State of the Nation, 98 to 101.
American affairs, with Burke's speeches thereon, 102 and
103. Ferment about the Middlesex election, ibid. John-
son's "False Alarm," ibid. JUNIUS, 195-Imputed ta
Burke, ibid.-Reasons for that supposition, to 108-against,
to 111-The discussion, comprehending an examination of
Junius's writings. Johnson's "Falkland's Island," 112,
Burke purchases an estate at Beaconsfield, ibid.-draws up
1
CONTENTS.
xi
a petition for the county about, the Middlesex election, 113
-publishes his "Thoughts on the Discontents," 115-Im-
portance of that work-as a political history-as a declara-
tion of Burke's political sentiments, ibid.-Account of, to
124. Burke never democratical, ibid. Character, to 127.
Attacked by democratical writers-compared with Johnson's
« False Alarm,” on the same subject, 129-more compre-
hensive and profound, 130.
Character of Lord North, 131. Expansion of Burke's
views, 132. Character of his eloquence, 132 to 134. John-
son's high admiration of Burke, 134. Lord North's expe-
dient for quieting America, 136. Burke reprobates it as a
half measure, ibid. Burke, as he advances in wisdom, re-
jects metaphysics, and reasons from experience, 137—An
enemy to hasty innovation, ibid.--Speech on the liberty of the
press, 139 to 141-Speeches on Falkland's Island, 142-
Conversation with Johnson, 143-Bon mot to Dr. Robert-
son, 144-to Mr. Boswell, 145-another to the same, ibid.-
another, ibid.-Witty comparison of Lord North to Dr.
Sangrado, ibid.-Pleasing manners-opinion about Johnson
coming into parliament, 146.-Discussion with Johnson
about the comparative merits of Homer and Virgil, 147.
Burke's favourite authors and studies, 148 to 150-His un-
favourable opinion of the intellectual merit of the "Beggar's
Opera," 152.-Gibbon's observation on that work, 153-
Courtenay's bon mot thereon, ibid.
Burke always increasing his knowledge, 153-Pursuits
when in the country, 154-Beloved by all ranks, ibid.-
His farming on the same general principle as his political
investigations-Account of his estate, and style of living,
155. Hospitality and charity, 156-An early riser, ibid.
Observation about Mr. Fox on, that subject, 157-Often re-
visits his native country and various parts of England, ibid.
Account of him by a fellow-traveller in a stage-coach, ibid.
Visits France, and sees the Dauphiness-converses with the
French philosophers, 158. His sagacity then discovers in
their doctrines the overthrow of religion and government,
159. Observations in parliament thereon, ibid. Speech in
favour of the Dissenters, 160--Remarks thereon, 162.
1
xii
CONTENTS.
East India affairs, 163-and the consequent bills in par-
liament, to 166. Burke's speeches, ibid.-Instances of wit
therein, 166 and 167. Erroneous opinions of Johnson about
Burke's wit, ibid. Peroration of Burke on the influx of
Eastern wealth, 167 and 168. Disinterestedness of Burke,
168 and 169-Grand and comprehensive views of, 170.
Riot at Boston, 171-Boston port-bill, 172-opposed by
Burke, ibid.-passes, ibid.-Compared to the case of Edin-
burgh about Captain Porteous, 174. Speech of Burke on
American taxation, 175-Account of, to 186-Character,
to 188. Burke visited at his villa by Johnson, 189 to 191.
Mrs. Thrale's Burke in a bag, 192. Round Robin addressed
to Johnson by Burke and others, respecting his epitaph on
Goldsmith, 193. Burke's prejudices, 195-Displeased with
Hume for alluding to him in a note about the Irish massacre,
196.
Comparison of Burke and Cicero, in materials, disposi-
tion, language, and objects of eloquence, 197 to 206.
Burke chosen for Bristol, 208. Effects of the mercantile
profession, 209.
Characteristic talents of the principal members of the new
parliament, 210. Charles Fox, account of his juvenile
years, 211-Entrance into Parliament, 214-Epochs of his
eloquence, 215-Comparison with Lord North, 217-Cha-
racter of his oratory, 218. American affairs, 219. Burke's
support of the traders, 221 to 224. Lord Chatham's speech,
225. Burke's famous speech on conciliation, from 226 to
240. Johnson's "Taxation no Tyranny," 241. Anec-
dotes, 245, Gibbon, Sheridan, and Fox, made members.
of the club, 247. Burke's bon mot about kelp, 249.-
Boswell's account to Burke of Johnson dining in company
with Wilkes, ibid. Burke's remark, 250. Burke's speech
on ministerial information and conduct, 252. Fox's on the
same subject, .253. Burke's new Conciliatory Bill and
speech, 253, &c.
Review of Burke's intellectual operation, and of his poli.
tical reasonings and conduct concerning America, from 256
to 259
Difference between Burke and Tucker, 260 to 264.
Sagacity of the Dean, 264. Burke's reasoning on the pro-
}
CONTENTS.
hibition of trade with America, 265. Fox's animadversion
on North's conduct of the war, 266. Burke's irony on
ministerial information, 267. Burke often quotes Watson's
History of Philip II. to the house, 269. Great talents of
Opposition, 270. American war popular, and why, 271 and
272. Burke reviled, but despises the slanders of ignorance
and folly, 273. Liberality of sentiment, ibid. Opinion of
Lord North, ibid. Great private influence with, 274-
Procures many favours from him for his friends, ibid.
American independence, 275. Thomas Paine, ibid. Se-
cession of Burke from the house, 277. Justificatory me-
morial, to 281-censured, ibid. "Letter to the Sheriffs of
Bristol," 283 to 285. Burke's principle the same as on the
French revolution, ibid.-His opinion of Hume, 285.-
Examined, 286. Description of the effects of civil war,
287. Answered by Lord Abingdon, ibid.-by Edward Top-
ham, Esq. 288. Reprobates Dr. Price's notions about the
rights of man, 289.
State of genius and literature, 290 to 293. Burke returns
to parliamentary exertions, ibid.-great effects of, 294-—Wit;
ibid. Speech on the employment of Indians, 296 to 299.
Lord North's want of firmness, 301. Diversity of opinion
in members of the Opposition, 304 and 305. Burke's con-
scientious support of the interest of his country, though con-
trary to the desire of his constituents, 306 and 307. Libe-
ral support of the bill for the relief of Papists, 308.
French war justifies Burke's prediction, 309. Warlike
operations discussed in the house, to 312. Keppel's trial,
313. Burke and Fox's proceedings therein, ibid. Burke's
conduct with Lord Verney, 315. Burke's observations on
the Scotch anti-popish mob, 316-Pleasantry, ibid.—Attack
on Lord Sandwich by Fox and Burke, 317. Proceeding
respecting Burgoyne and the Howes, to 321. Spanish war
further justifies the wise foresight of Burke, ibid.-War
still popular, and why, to 324. Burke's speech on Irish
affairs, 325-Humour, 326-Strictures on ministerial pro-
fusion, 327 and 328. War begins to be unpopular, 329.
Burke's plan of œconomical reform--account and character
14
i
さ
​xiv
CONTENTS.
of, from 329 to 337. Dunning's motion on the influence of
the Crown, 337.:
Riots of 1780, from 339 to 341-Effects on the opinion of
the public, 341. Burke's hatred of popular licentiousness,
342. Opposition to an illiberal bill about Catholic teachers,
343-declines standing for Bristol, ibid.but vindicates his
conduct to the electors, to 348. Dutch war and armed neu-
trality, 349
First appearance of Mr. Pitt in parliament, 351. Ac-
count and character of, to 355. Compared with Burke and
Fox, 356. Effect of his eloquence on that of Fox, ibid.
·
Mr. Sheridan, account and character of, to 360. Motion
of Fox about the American war, 361. Burke's first allusion
to John Zisca's skin, 363. Attack of the ministry, 364.
Change of ministry, and Burke appointed Paymaster, ibid.
Review and character of Burke's intellectual, moral, and
political exertions, to 368. Lord North's pathetic obser-
vation to a little boy about strawberries, 369. Integrity
and goodness of Lord North, though unfortunate, 369.
Adoption of part of Burke's reform plan, 370.
Death of Lord Rockingham, and resignation of Fox and
Burke, 370 and 371. Fox and Burke justify their resigna-
tion, 372. Severe speech of Burke against Shelburne, 375.
Coalition, 376. Strictures on the peace, ibid and 377.
Ministry resign, 378. Burke again Paymaster, ibid. Burke's
genius and exertions considered, to 382-Investigates India
affairs, to 384.
Fox's India Bill, account and character of, to 385. Able
opposition to by Pitt and Dundas, to 387. Burke's speech
on, from 388 to 390. Thrown out in the House of Lords,
391. Dismission of Ministers, 392. Dissolution of Parlia-
ment, 393. Burke's proposed representation to the King,
394. Pitt's India Bill, to 395. Unworthy treatment of
Burke in the house, to 397. Burke's motion against Has-
tings, ibid.
Death of Johnson, 399-Character, to 403. Review of
letters at this time, to 405. Burke chosen Rector of Glas-
gow University, 406-Prosecutes a newspaper for defama-
{
CONTENTS
XV
tion, and obtains his suit, 407. His villa robbed, ibid. to
408. Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's debts, to 409.
Op-
poses reform in parliament, ibid. His son writes against
Major Cartwright on that subject, ibid. Irish propositions,
410 and 411. Rise and progress of the inquiry about Mr.
Hastings, 412 to 428. Dr. M'Cormick charges Burke with
envy to Mr. Sheridan, 431. The charge not proved,
and not probable, to 434 Commercial treaty-Burke's.
great view of this subject, 436-His conduct respecting the
Test act justified, to 438. Lord North gains a bet of Burke
about prosody, 439.
*
The Regency, and character of Burke's proceedings, to 443.
Burke much abused in a newspaper, 444-Jaunt with Mr.
Windham to Scotland, through Athol-Fair maids of the
inn-Argyleshire-Opinion concerning Ossian, to 449. Dr.
McCormick charges Burke with making Hastings's trial a job
for his friends-Charge refuted, to 451. Insinuation of the
same author about marriage-broking, and strictures on, ibid.
Burke often in embarrassed circumstances, though without
vicious habits, to 453, Excellent private character, ibid.-
Mistake about laudanum, 454.
ނ
}
Sir Joshua Reynolds dies, and Burke's character of him,
to 458-did not write the discourses on painting for Sir
Joshua, ibid. A short account of Mr. Hamilton, who wishes
Burke to renew their intimacy, but without success, to 461-
FRENCH REVOLUTION.:
*
General end of government not answered by the old go-
vernment of France, 462. Account of its despotism, to 465:
Its overthrow, to 467.—The overthrow praised in Britain,
from considering the general necessity of a revolution, and
not the peculiar features of that revolution, to 469. Burke
reasons from experience, as he always did, and infers that
the Rights of Man doctrines would be pernicious, as he always
did, to 476. Fox, as a friend to liberty, admires the French
revolution, as the forerunner of freedom and happiness;
Burke reprobates it as the forerunner of anarchy and misery;
each from good motives, but Burke with more foresight, to
479. Burke shewn to be right in judgment and consistent
*
y
xvi
CONTENTS.
in opinion, to 481. Discussion between Fox, Sheridan, and
Burke, in the house, to 484.
Burke prepares his Reflexions, to 485. Reflexions ana-
lysed, and the intellectual process of Burke's mind; the ma-
terials on which it operated, the consistency of his opinions,
the profoundness of his reasoning, and the justness of his
conclusions shewn; and the beauty, sublimity, and pathos,
exemplified, from 485 to 511. Address to Burke from Ox-
ford, and to Mr. Windham from him, to 515 Account and
character of the admirers and censurers of the book, to 517.
Answered by Priestley, ibid. Paine's Rights of Man, ac-
count and character of, to 521. Effects, to 522. "Letter
to a Member of the National Assembly," account and cha-
racter of, to 523. Discussion between Burke and Fox in the
house, 527.
"Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs,"
to 531. History of the political parson, ibid. Mackintosh's,
Vindicia Gallica," 533. Character of, 535- Burke's
first Memorial, 536. Danger of the country in 1792-Pro-
clamation, and Friends of the People, 537. Burke's desire
of a general combination, 540.-Second Memorial-Associ-
ation against Republicans and Levellers, 541.-Cause of Fox's
conduct, 542. Burke's Letter to the Duke of Portland, ibid.
Burke's high opinion of Fox, 546. Burke's visit to Oxford,
547. Dr. Winstanley's opinion of his learning, 548-Third
Memorial,5 49. Account of democratical writers, ibid.-Cor-
responding Society, and plan of a national convention, 552.
Burke retires from parliament, 554. State of parliament
when he left it, ibid.-Mr. Windham, 555-Mr. Dundas,
556. Death of Burke's son, 558.-Burke's grief, ibid.-.
Receives a pension, 560-Charge of corruption disproved,
561.-Letter about the Duke of Bedford, 562. Burke's oc-
cupation in the country, 565-Institutes Benefit-clubs, 566.-
Regicide Peace, 567.-Account of, 569.-The Author of
Vindicia Gallicæ visits Burke at Beaconsfield, 571. Burke's
health begins to decline, 573-Perceives his dissolution fast
approaching, and his conduct at so awful a period,- 573 to 575.
His death, ibid.-His funeral, 576-His will, 577 to 585-
Summary of his intellectual and moral character, 586, to the end.
F
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1
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许
​*
THE LIFE
OF
EDMUND BURKE.
Ο
F the various studies which occupy the at-
tention of man, the wise esteem those the
most important which unfold human nature,
educe moral duty, and inculcate virtuous con-
duct. Hence history, which shews the con-
nection between principle and action, action
and consequence, derives its chief utility. Not
real history only, but its imitator, poetry,
though pleasing from a variety of causes, is
-useful and interesting in proportion to its ex-
hibition of moral nature, and those parts of phy-
sical by which it is affected.
In history, whether real or imitative, we
are more instructed by the developement of
particular characters than of general measures;
more interested in individual enjoyment and
suffering, than in the prosperity or adversity
of nations. Of history, therefore, the most
instructing and most interesting kind is Bio-
graphy. "No species of history, (says the
sage Author of the RAMBLER) seems more
B
464
[2]
}
worthy of cultivation than biography; since
none can be more delightful or more useful,
none can more certainly enchain the heart by
irresistible interest, or more widely diffuse
instruction to every diversity of condition.'
Hence Johnson infers, that there has rarely
passed a life, of which a judicious and faithful
narrative would not be useful.
7
""
The facts which constitute the excellence of
biography are of an evanescent kind, and rarely
transmitted by tradition: they are often lost,
unless carefully collected during the life either
of the subject or of his cotemporaries. It is
of great importance, therefore, to procure the
materials of biography while entire, and not
impaired by time.
From the inattention of cotemporaries to the
lives of some of our most eminent poets, the
first biographer of modern times found only
scanty materials. The public may regret that
his knowledge of the life of Butler was not
equal to that of the life of Savage. After a lapse
of ages, such knowledge, however, was not at-
tainable concerning those who had not found
faithful and judicious biographers whilst the
subject was fresh.
Lord Bacon observes, that history is either
narrative or inductive: narrative, when re-
cording facts; inductive, when recording facts
to establish general principles. Narrative his-
tory is the foundation of inductive. We must
1
}
[3]
know particular facts before we can deduce
from them general conclusions.
This division holds respecting biography and
every other species of history.
To collect useful facts, requires only industry,
observation, and common judgment. To com-
pose an inductive history or biography requires
much higher powers: yet the lower exertions
are beneficial in affording materials.
A
As no age has produced a greater number of
eminent men than the present, should any
future Johnson arise to write the history of
Genius, it would not only be useful but ne-
cessary, in order to give his biography the full
effect, that he should have an accurate account
from those who lived at the time.
No one
individual can know all the facts which may
form the materials of an entertaining and useful
life. Variety of narratives, if authentic, impartial,
and not trivial, will tend to the great ends of
biography. Although there be no,such life of
Johnson, as Johnson himself could have written
on a similar subject, yet much advantage has
accrued to society from different writers having
undertaken an account of his life. From several
writers, a much greater quantity and variety
of important information are transmitted to
posterity, than would have reached them from
the talents and industry of any one of his bio-
graphers. From the result of their labours
there are now sufficient materials to employ the
"
}
TA
[ + ]
pen of a man possessing the requisite talents for
biography a thorough knowledge of human
nature, an acquaintance with that kind of.
situation in which the subject acted, and that
species of talents which he exerted. From these
only, combined with a detail of facts, such
as can be had from none but cotemporaries,
may a just view be formed of individual cha-
racter,
Biography derives its principal advantage
from the minute knowledge it affords of moral
causes, their operation and effects; by ena-
bling us to trace action to mind; the modifica-
tions, habits, and affections of mind to their
sources, whether original or factitious; and
thence deducing lessons of moral conduct. It
is interesting, from displaying situations and
passions which we can, by a small effort of
the imagination, approximate to ourselves,-thẹ
feelings of the father, son, husband, wife, and
friend.
The interest arising from the view of the
qualities, situation, feelings, actions, conduct,
and characters of our species is often en-
hanced by circumstances peculiar to indivi
duals, by individual powers, affections, and
exertions, intellectual and moral; their direc-
tion, their effects on the happiness of the sub-
ject himself, of others, and particularly on
our own. We admire extraordinary talents or
qualities, we are interested in the history of
#
1
"
[ ]
such talents or qualities, producing important
consequences to the welfare or hurt of man-
kind. We are most deeply affected by the
history of men, the consequences of whose
powers and conduct have extended to our own
times and country. The lives of soldiers who
have fought for us, of scholars who have in-
formed, instructed, or delighted us, of states-
men whose measures and conduct are felt in
our society, are read with peculiar delight.
We wish to know every minute circumstance
that can illustrate their characters, and are
even pleased with those that are not in them-
selves material, because belonging to an in-
teresting object.
Whether we consider talents, knowledge, or
their direction and effects on human affairs,
and especially on those affairs in which we of
this country are most particularly concerned,
no man of modern times stands more eminently
distinguished than EDMUND BURKE. It is not
his genius only,-a genius of which we perceive
the vast expanse, but cannot see the bounds ;-
a genius which, though it had not been culti
vated by erudition, enlightened by knowledge,
formed by philosophy, must by its own natural
force have rendered its possessor infinitely su-
perior to ordinary men, even with the advan-
tages of education ;-a genius not only grasping,
but comprehending; not only comprehending,
but appropriating almost every subject of human
learning-whatever it saw, occupying; what-
J
[6]
1
;
1
1
;
ever it occupied, possessing; whatever it pos-
sessed, employing;-which has rendered the
character and history of this personage interest-
ing and momentous. A very great part of its
importance comes from the direction which his
inclination, together with the circumstances of
the times, have given to his talents, and the
consequences which they have produced, and are
producing to mankind. The effects could not
have proceeded but from great efficacy: the
efficacy might have existed without the effects.
1
Whether the effects are salutary or pernicious,
it would be premature in me to assert, until,
after a narrative of facts, I have adduced the
reasons on which I may have formed an opi-
nion. But those, who contend either the one
or the other, concur in admitting that few or
none have had, and have, more influence on the
welfare of mankind than EDMUND BURke.
According to the censurers of this great man-
His recent writings and eloquence afford
the most extraordinary instance of powers of
the first magnitude misapplied to the most
hurtful purposes, and producing the most la-
mentable effects. He repressed the increasing
spirit of liberty, which, if allowed to operate,
would have produced in these realms a reform
of abuses and corruptions, becoming daily more
numerous, more extensive, and more destruc-
tive. His writings and eloquence were the
means of obstructing the improving exertions
of unfettered reason, and of again binding her
1
1
*
to my
1
in the chains of authority, prejudice, priest-
craft, and tyranny. He stirred up an abho-
rence of the French revolution, an alarm
against all principles of freedom, because their
abuse or excess, arising from circumstances
not necessarily connected with them, had pro-
duced disorders. Through his writings, elo-
quence, and influence, incidental excesses were
identified with liberty itself. Emancipation
from civil and ecclesiastical slavery was repro-
bated, because resentment for long suffered
and long felt oppression had stimulated vio-
lence against the oppressors. Monarchical,
aristocratical, and clerical usurpers were de-
fended; and were not only defended, but repre-
sented as martyrs in the cause of virtue and
religion, when deprived of that power which
they had never any right to possess. It was he
that broke the WHIG PHALANX, indisposed men
of rank and property to a reform, which, be-
fore abuses were arrived at such a height, many
of them had deemed absolutely necessary to
the salvation of the constitution. Having ren:
dered the majority of his countrymen inimi-
cal to the French republic, and to the prin
ciples of liberty which had given it being, he
prepared them for hostilities against France
and Freedom, and for joining the combination
of despots. In short, according to the party
in opposition to Government, Mr. Burke pre-
vented the reform of abuses, which had in-
T
1
[8]
1
creased, were increasing, and, unless speedily
removed, must ruin the country; and by chang-
ing the sentiments of Britons, and exciting a
hatred and alarm against the dissemination of
freedom, of which he once had been the zealous
champion, caused a war, in principle absurd,
unjust, and inexpedient; in event disgraceful
and disastrous; in its consequences pregnant
with destruction.
Such is the opinion the opponents of the
present Administration, whether high or low,
learned or ignorant, able or weak,-from a Lau-
derdale, an Erskine, a Mackintosh, a Sheridan,
and a Fox, down to a Jones and a Thelwall,-
entertain of the recent conduct of Burke, and
its consequences.
According to the admirers of Burke's recent
conduct-he affords an instance of the greatest
energy employed in effecting the most benefi-
cial purposes. His writings, eloquence, and
wisdom, recalled Britain from the deluding
errors of visionary theories to the salutary
lessons of experience; from the abstraction of
metaphysics and the falsities of fanciful hypo-
thesis to the contemplation of their actual state
of welfare and happiness; demonstrated to
them the evils to which rage for innovation was
leading its votaries; taught them not to prefer
possible, but very improbable, acquirement to
certain possession; persuaded them to look to
their own history and experience, and not to the
f
+
*
[ 9 ]
}
mischievous speculations of their neighbours.
Seeing the increasing disposition in many in-
dividuals to sacrifice the constitution, and con--
sequently the happiness of their country, to
revolutionary doctrines, he warned them of the
misery which they were ignorantly seeking;
he excited the majority of men of talents, in-
fluence, and interest in the state, to vigilance
and vigour in preserving their country. He,
from the first symptoms, fully comprehended
the nature of the disease, and prognosticat
ed its dreadful effects; stopped the infection
from spreading in his own country, by pre-
scribing efficacious preventives, and causing
all communication to be cut off with the country
in which the pestilence was raging. His genius
was the agent of wisdom, his wisdom the mi-
nister of patriotism. He was the bulwark of
the British constitution, of rational liberty, and
of property; the champion who drove back
the flames of Jacobinism from our battlements
and fortresses; the preserver of our church
and state in the various orders and gradations
of their component members, the securer of
internal tranquillity and happiness; whose
energy was the principal source of vigour in
external measures necessary to save this country
from being over-run by French politics, and
even dependent on French power; measures
which, though they have failed of complete
success, as to continental affairs, yet have saved
1
Ç
?
[ 10 ]
}
the constitution, and preserved the indepen
dence of Britain.
Such is the opinion entertained of Burke by
the approvers of the present system and plans
of Government.
Those who do not concur in every particular of
either the praise or the censure of this personage
with the supporters or opponents of Administra-
tion, agree with both in ascribing the prevention
of change and the continuance of the present
system,-whether, on the whole, good or bad-
the war, whether, on the whole, right or wrong,
chiefly to the powers of Edmund Burke.
As in the general estimation, he is the author of
effects the most momentous to mankind,-even
had his influence never been felt in the former
part of his life, had he been totally inactive
during the American contest and at every
other period previous to the French revolu-
tion, had he never before been distinguished
as a genius, a scholar, an orator, a politician,
a philosopher, his history and character must
be highly important and interesting to Britons
and to mankind. But it is not as a literary
and political man alone that a biographer is to
regard Burke. By following him to the retire-
ment of civil and domestic life,—by viewing
him as a neighbour, a companion, a friend, a
brother, an associate, a private member of the
community, as a husband, a father, a master
of a family, we must reap the highest intel-
}
th
[11]
*
1
lectual and moral instruction, and interest the
best affections.
r
The course of general study had led the
writer of this sketch to a closé contemplation
of the literary efforts and character of Burke.
Special objects combined with general study
in producing a still closer attention to his
political exertions, and to consider them in
detail and principle, and the parts severally,
and as members of a whole system. Anxious
to know the civil and domestic life of a per-
sonage whose literary and political talents are
so eminent, the writer has spared no pains to
procure authentic information concerning his
private engagements, relations, habits, temper,
manners, and conduct.
The first quality of biography is authenti-
city. A biographer and an historian, like any
other witness, is bound to speak, as far as he
knows it, the truth, all the truth, and nothing
but the truth; regarding fact only, not the
consequences of the narration to the character
of its subject. A necessary constituent of au-
thenticity is impartiality. If a writer set out
with a predisposition either to praise or to
censure, he is apt to lose sight of truth; to
bend facts to a favourite hypothesis.
It has been asserted, in a preface to some
posthumous publications of Burke, that con-
sistency marks every part of his conduct. The
writer of this Life is neither the FRIEND nor the
}
:
[12]
·
ENEMY of Burke: neither assumes that he was
consistent nor inconsistent, but will imparti-
ally narrate every fact which he deems illus-
trative of his talents and character. He will
endeavour to ascribe the due merit to his extra-
ordinary excellencies; also to notice his defects—
as from such he, in common with all men, was
not exempt. He who should exhibit one side
only is an advocate, not an historian; and not
a very judicious advocate, because so easily to
be convicted of partiality. Neither a friend nor
an enemy is the fittest for writing a true life.
The friend is apt to become a panegyrist, the
enemy a satirist: the former to overcharge the
good, and sink the bad; the latter to overcharge
the bad, and sink the good. Truth is either
lost in the blaze of admiration, or perverted
by the misrepresentation of malignancy.
To narrative biography only (according to
Lord Bacon's distinction) does the author pre-
tend, and arrogates to himself no qualities be-
yond those which it requires :-knowledge of
important facts, veracity and impartiality in
recording them. With his information on the
subject, and his determined adherence to au-
thenticity, he hopes he may be able to exhibit,
if not a finished, a true account of this illus-
trious personage, and may afford many useful
materials to future biographers of greater talents
and skill.
f
[ 13 ]
}
✔
EDMUND BURKE was born in the city of
Dublin,* January 1st, 1730. He derived his
descent from a respectable family. His father
was of the Protestant persuasion, and by pro-
fession an attorney, of considerable ability and
extensive practice. Young Edmund received
the first part of his classical education under
Mr. Abraham Shackleton, a quaker, who kept
an academy at Ballytore, near Carlow. Mr.
Shackleton was a very skilful and successful
teacher, and at his school were educated many
who became considerable in their country.
Under the tuition of this master, Burke de-
voted himself with great ardour, industry, and
perseverance, to his studies, and laid the foun-
dation of a classical erudition, which alone would
have entitled ordinary men to the character of
great scholars, but constituted a very small
proportion of his multifarious knowledge. His
classical learning was the learning of a philoso-
pher, not of a pedant. He considered the ancient
languages not as arrangements of measures,
but as keys to ancient thoughts, sentiments,
imagery, knowledge, and reasoning.
Johnson observes, that there is not an in-
stance of any man whose history has been mi-
nutely related, that did not in every part of
his life discover the same proportion of intel-
*His father for some time resided at Limerick; from
which it has been erroneously asserted that Edmund was
born there.
1
[14]
}
lectual vigour. Though, perhaps, this as a ge
neral position may admit of modifications, it is
certain that Burke, from even boyish days, ma-
nifested a distinguished superiority over his con-
temporaries. He was the pride of his master, who
foreboded every thing great from his genius.
He regarded his preceptor with a respect
and gratitude which did honour to both. For
near forty years that he went annually to Ire-
land, he travelled many miles to pay him a vi
sit. Mr. Shackleton lived to. a good old age,
and was succeeded by his son, Mr. John Shackle-
ton, under whom the school continued to flou-
rish. From Mr. John Shackleton it descended
to his son, Mr. Abraham Shackleton, who is its
present master, with no less reputation and suc-
cess than his father and grandfather.
Burke's brother, Richard, who abounded in
vivacity and pointed wit, was by many esteem-
ed, in their boyish days, the abler of the two:
as among superficial judges boys are rated ac-
cording to the vivacity, not the force of their
intellectual qualities and operations; by the
quickness of the vegetation more than the value
of the production. Hence the fruits of ripened
manhood are often very different from the ap.
pearance of juvenile blossom.
Of the comparative merits of the two bro-
thers, both their master and father entertained
a very different opinion from that which others
had conceived. They allowed that Richard
was bright, but maintained that Edmund would
[ 15 ]
1
f
be wise.
The event justified their opinion.
Richard was lively and pungent; Edmund
perspicacious, expansive, and energetic. Of
the two, Richard would have been the better
writer of epigrams, Edmund of epic poetry.
Leaving school, he was sent to Dublin
College, and was cotemporary with Goldsmith."
Goldsmith, in conversation, often asserted that
Burke did not render himself very eminent in the
performance of his academical exercises. This
assertion has been confirmed by others, and never
contradicted. When we consider the immense
extent and variety of his knowledge, we may fairly
infer, that even in his youth he must have laid
in great, stores, though without display. That
many young men of talents are at College eclips-
ed by more emulous inferiors in established ex-
ercises is certainly true: that they themselves
and their fellow students, and even their mas-
ters, estimate general ability by a specific direc-
tion, often happens. Imperfect knowledge will
apply erroneous criteria, and consequently draw
wrong conclusions. By many, not only boys
but men, talents are rated by the facility of
combining Latin and Greek syllables in a cer-
țain order, instead of the facility of knowing
and explaining difficult and important truths.
But penetration will discover talents, though
not employed in customary details.
It is of the greatest importance in a history
[ 16 J
r
of an extraordinary mind, to mark, as far as
possible, the progression of its powers, exer-
tions, and attainments; the discipline or di-
rection which may have had an effect on them;
quibus initiis quo progressu, usque eo creverit. What
was chiefly attended to at Dublin when he
was at the University was the logic of the
schools. Locke's Essay had not made its way
in that College so completely as to expel the
*Aristotelian system. The vigorous and pene-
trating mind of Burke, even in his juvenile
years, saw the absurdity of the scholastic jar-
gon, and slighted it as much as his friend John-
son had formerly done the lectures of his Oxford
tutor. Men of great talents, both those who
have been placed at universities and those who
have not, after the elementary studies, chiefly
form themselves; and, in following the plans
of their own choice, often neglect those of pre-
scription. Johnson, though proud of his Col-
lege, did not devote himself to academical
exercises with a zeal and perseverance propor-
tionate to his genius. Dryden at Cambridge
obtained no honorary degree. High as these
men are, to rise much higher, Milton was not
peculiarly ambitious of College distinction.
Bacon, when his cotemporaries were exercising
themselves in the controversies of Aristotelian
logic, and striving for victory in moods and
figures, was engaged in proving the futility of
the dialectics of the schools, and in finding out
**
[ 17 ]
1
a certain road to truth. Common minds pursue
the beaten tract: great genius either FINDS or
MAKES a WAY.
It was by this untramelled exertion of his
own powers, that Burke's juvenile studies at
once enriched, invigorated, and expanded his
mind. In recording his pursuits at College,
I do not mean to recommend them to the
imitation of young readers; nor to derogate
from the utility of the modes established in
any of the universities of these kingdoms.-
Systems of education are to be estimated by their
tendency and effect in forming and directing
the powers of ordinary young men, not of such
as rarely appear in an age.
Mathematics were also much attended to at
Dublin. Although Burke applied himself so
much to that branch of study as to give him a
competent knowledge of those parts that were
most subservient to the purposes of life, there
is no evidence that he devoted himself to the
more abstruse and profound parts of the science.
It is probable, that, had he studied at Cam-
bridge, he might have, according to the lan-
guage of that university, not taken one of the
first degrees. It is not likely that he might not
have been beyond a senior optimo; whilst the de-
gree of wrangler would have been reserved for
men of inferior talents, but more emulously
diligent in the performance of prescribed
D
š
1
1
[ 18 ។
tasks, and in the acquirement of a prescribed
knowledge . His genius was too powerful to
be stimulated by the common motive of emu-
Iation. Emulation can only operate where
there is an approach to equality. Among many
men of great ability, how few there are to be
found in a century who approach to an equality
to Edmund Burke. He gained no prizes, for
he sought none. His mind was of too enlarged
and original a cast, to be directed in its exer-
tions by merely precedented studies; it formed
itself. It is well ascertained, that though he
paid no more attention to his College exercises
than was merely necessary to avoid censure,
while at the university, pursuing his own
plans, he acquired a very extensive knowledge
of physical and moral nature. Logic he also
studied in the efficacious mode which Bacon
pointed out. Pneumatology, in general, occu-
pied a considerable portion of his attention.
While attending to acquirement he was not
negligent respecting the means of communica-
tion. He studied rhetoric and composition
as well as logic, physic, history, and moral
philosophy.
In the year 1749, Lucas, a demagogue apo-
thecary, wrote a number of very daring pa-
pers against Government, and acquired as great
popularity at Dublin as Mr. Wilkes afterwards
did in London. Burke, whose principal atten-
tion had been directed to more important ob
་
[ 19 ]
་
jects than the categories of Aristotle, perceived
the noxious tendency of levelling doctrines.
He wrote several essays in the style of Lucas,
imitating it so completely as to deceive the
public:-pursuing Lucas's principles to conse-
quences obviously resulting from them, and at
the same time shewing their absurdity and
danger. The first literary effort of his mind
was an exposure of the absurdity of democra
tical innovations. This was the Ticinus of our
political Scipio.
Z
It has been often said that he was bred a Ca-
tholic, and studied at St. Omers. To his sup.
posed education many of his political measures
have been ascribed: particularly to his popish
Institution were imputed his opposition to the
Protestant associations in 1780 and his endea-
vour to effect Catholic emancipation in Ireland.
But the fact ascertained and admitted is, that
he never studied at St. Omers, nor at any popish
or even foreign seminary. He was bred a Pro-
testant, and always continued a member of the
Episcopal church, although he entertained a
very high opinion of the Dissenters, and a par-
ticular esteem for the Catholics.
Among the various literary studies to which
his genius was directed, pneumatology, as we
have said, was one. Philosophers, indeed, have
generally considered man in his individual
powers, before they have followed these powers
through their operation in the various relations
}
[ 20 ]
Į
1
and engagements of social life.
They have
analysed the mind before they ascertained what
affections or actions of it were useful or hurtful.
Anatomy preceded preventives, regimen, and
medicine. This has been the case both with
philosophy and philosophers. Pneumatics have
been studied before ethics: Xenophanes went
before Socrates; Hutchinson's Analysis of the
Passions was written before his Moral Philo-
sophy. The study, indeed, of man's nature in
the abstract is, perhaps, more within the reach
of a young man, than the study of it in its ope-
rations amidst the complicated engagements
and duties of society.
Burke, in his youth, bestowed much atten-
tion on logic and metaphysics in general, and
applied himself with particular diligence to
the investigation of Berkley's and Hume's
systems.
While employed in treasuring up a profound
knowledge to render himself useful, he did not
neglect the means of rendering himself agree-
able in the intercourse of life. To the learn-
ing
of a scholar he added the manners of a
gentleman. His company was sought among
the gay and fashionable, for his pleasing con-
versation and deportment, as much as among
the learned for the force and brilliancy of his
genius, the extent and depth of his knowledge.
He had that great art of good breeding which
rendered the members of the company pleased
[21]
with him and themselves.
He had an inex-
haustible fund of discourse, either serious or
merry, with wit and humour, poignant, strong,
delicate, sportive, as answered the purpose or
occasion. He had a vast variety of anecdotes
and stories, which were always well adapted
and well told; a constant cheerfulness and high
spirits, His looks and voice were in unison
with the agreeableness, insinuation, and im-
pressiveness of his conversation and manners.
But though the object of regard and admira-
tion in his native country, he did not see much
chance of acquiring in it an independent situa
tion. Ireland, though often the mother of ge.
nius, is rarely its nurse. Burke, seeing little
prospect of soon raising himself in his own
country, made his first essay to attain perma-
nent employment in another. Soon after he
had finished academical studies, a vacancy took
place in the professorship of Logic at Glasgow.
A considerable intercourse had long subsisted
between the universities of Glasgow and Dublin,
owing, probably, in some measure to their local
position, but in a great degree to the fame of
the eminent Hutchinson, who had been edu-
cated at Dublin, and always retained a close
intercourse with Ireland.
Burke, conscious of his metaphysical know-
ledge, applied for the professorship; but too
late. Had he been successful, the Logic chair
of Glasgow would have been still more eminent
[ 22 ]
than the Moral Philosophy chairs of Glasgow
and of Edinburgh: though the former have been
filled by a Hutchinson, Smith, and Reid; the
latter has been occupied by a Fergusson, and
is now by'a Stewart. Burke had planned a con-
futation of the Berkleian and Humean hypo-
thesis; but the active engagements of politics
afterwards prevented the completion of his
speculative disquisitions.
Disappointment of early views has been the
means of advancement to several eminent men
of modern times. Dr. Fergusson was disap-
pointed in an application for an inconsiderable
living in an obscure part of Scotland. Had he
been successful, taken up with the duties of his
profession, his literary and philosophical talents
might have been lost to the world.
Had Dr. Johnson become master of the Staf
fordshire school, talents might have been con-
sumed in the tuition of boys which Providence
formed for the instruction of men. The chair
which Burke desired to fill would have been
favourable to philosophical effort.
Whether, on the whole, his mind might not
have been employed as usefully for himself
and for mankind, in the sequestered pursuits of
literature, is a premature inquiry at this stage
of his life; for, if a solvable question, the solu-
tion must depend on the effects arising from a
different direction of his powers during more
advanced periods.
;
f
J
1
[ 23 ]
7
+
We now know, that the time devoted by
Bacon to philosophy was of infinitely superior
utility to mankind to that which was occupied
in public life. We know, that his political
counsels were of much less efficacy, in the
wise and successful reign of great Elizabeth,
than those of men, who, though possessing con-
siderable talents, were (as almost all men were
that ever the world saw) very much inferior
in genius to Sir Francis Bacon. As a judge,
'even had he in a moral view been blameless,
he could have done no more than a person of
merely a sound understanding, common learn-
ing, and professional knowledge, without ei-
ther genius or philosophy. In the early part
of Bacon's life it would have been premature to
have determined, whether in a private or pub-
lic capacity he might have been most beneficial
to himself and to society.
;
Disappointed in Glasgow, Burke betook him-
self to London, where genius, if vigorously and
assiduously exerted, and judiciously directed,
seldom fails of ultimate success.
On his first arrival in the metropolis, he en-
tered himself of the Temple. Various accounts
are given of his finances at the outset of life. It
has of late been asserted that he began the
world with a handsome competency, which he
sunk by an adherence to a party. The term
b ndsome competency being vague and indefinite,
I cannot enter into a particular discussion of it;
but it appears probable that it was not very
1
&
{
[ 24 ]
1
1
considerable when he came to London. This
is a natural inference from the mode which he
adopted soon after his arrival. When he had
entered himself of the Temple, he submitted
to the drudgery of regularly writing for daily,
weekly, and monthly publications. It is not
probable that a man, possessed of a competent
subsistence in his own private fortune, would
seek to earn money by hired writing for news-
papers and magazines. But were we to admit
that his circumstances were good, we should
by no means, by the admission, exalt his merit:
the more difficulties he had to combat, the
greater force of mind was required to sur-
mount them. To have begun the world in in-
dependent circumstances would not have added
to his character.
+
In the Preface to his Posthumous Works it is
stated by the learned Editor, that the family
from which Burke was sprung had been en-
nobled in several of its branches. A reader of
the History of Ireland will find that Bourke*
was, in the last century, the family name of
several peers of that kingdom. Of these, the
most distinguished were the Marquis of Clan-
ricarde and Viscount Clanmorris, extinct; and
Lord Brittas, forfeited. It is probable, that
these noble families were branches of that of
* The name of Burke or Bourke was held in high esteem
by the ancient Irish.
1
t
{
[ 25 1
{
#
$
Bourke Lord Bourke. The only titled Bourke
of the present age is the Earl of Mayo. Burke
is believed to have descended from the same
root. I do not mention these circumstances
with a view to emblazon native genius by he-
raldry. · Edmund Burke must have conferred
much more lustre upon any family than he
could have derived from it. But as readers are
generally curious to know something of the
descent of a subject of biography, I think it
my duty to state facts where they can be
known; and, where they cannot, the most pro-
bable and generally received opinions. I am
assured by Dr. Lawrence, that Burke's grand-
father possessed an estate of three thousand a
year, near Limerick, which was confiscated.
This event may have been the means of stimu-
lating the talents of his son, and perhaps the
genius of his grandson.
To periodical publications he contributed
essays on various subjects of general literature
and particular politics. These essays, though
uniting information, reasoning, invention, and
composition, much beyond contemporary wri-
ters, did not immediately enable their author
to emerge from obscurity. Patronage does not
always follow literary merit: if it do, it comes
rarely when most wanted-before fame has se-
cured success. Those who are most willing to
be the patrons of learning are not always the
most capable of appreciating merit, and are
E
{
[26]
often misled by dependants, whose own place in
their esteem would suffer by a just apprecia,
tion. Besides, the love of obsequiousness and
flattery is very frequently the motive to patro-
nage. Adulation and servility inferior retainé
ers to letters will readily pay; while to such
arts conscious intellect will not stoop. Such,
therefore, often fail of the protection of the
great. A Cibber will be admitted by a patron
who excludes a Johnson.
The profits of Burke's writings were at first
small. The earliest offerings of literature must
be to fame; from fame follows emolument.
He frequently passed his leisure hours in the
company of Mrs. Woffington. This several of
his detractors have endeavoured to make a sub-
ject ·
of ridicule. But it is certain that this
lady's conversation was no less anxiously court-
ed by men of wit and genius, than by men of
pleasure. It is equally certain that he was,
on the whole, a man of great temperance.
Whether he was so completely chaste as to resist
the attractions of that engaging woman, I
cannot affirm. If instead of standing candidate
for being professor of Logic at Glasgow, he
had applied for orders in the kirk, and Mrs,
Woffington had been within its jurisdiction, an
inquiry would have probably been instituted;
but as that was not the case, I have no means of
satisfying the curious in that branch of bio.
graphy. Whatever may have been his occa
[ 27 ]
1
Sonal avocations, he in the Temple applied
himself with the most vigorous industry to
writing essays and increasing his knowledge.
Applying to learning and science in general,
the studies to which he gave himself up with
the most peculiar zeal wère those which un-
folded human nature,-history, ethics, politics,
pneumatology, poetry, and criticism. His
health was gradually impaired by this intense
application, and an alarming illness ensued.
He resorted for medical advice to Dr. Nugent,
a physician of great talents and skill, and of no
less benevolence. The Doctor considering that
the noise, and various disturbances incidental
to chambers, must impede the recovery of his
patient, kindly offered him apartments in his
own house. Attention and tender treatment,
not from the Doctor only, but all the family, had
soon a more powerful effect in producing the
restoration of his health than any medicines.
Among the most attentive to her father's pa-
tient and guest was Miss Nugent, whose general
amiableness and particular tenderness to him-
´self soon excited a passion in the sensible heart
of Burke. He offered her his hand, which she
accepted; and, during a long life of various vi-
cissitudes and trying situations, had, in her
soothing and affectionate conduct, every reason
to rejoice at his lot.
Hitherto his mental powers and acquirements
were but partially known. The exertion of his
1
[ 28 ]
literary talents had been confined to detached
essays. His first acknowledged production is
his V'indication of Natural Society
This performance is an important object
to his biographers, as it marks the sound prin-
ciples of religion, philosophy, and politics,
which he had early formed. By an ironical
vindication of natural society, in preference
to artificial or political, he exposes the false
philosophy of Bolingbroke, which, he thinks,
had a tendency to overturn virtue, and every
established mode of religion and of government,
The scepticism of that author hád hitherto
infected only men of rank or literature. It
was reserved for Paine to simplify infidelity to
the capacities of unlettered men. The dis-
ciples of Bolingbroke considered his notions
as applying to theology only; they did not fore-
see that the same engines that were employed
for the destruction of religion, which they did
not regard, might be used for the subyersion of
government, the annihilation of their privileges,
and the forfeiture of their property, which they
did regard.
The tendency of religious scepticism to pro-
duce political confusion was discovered by the
penetrating genius of a Burke. He endeavoured
to turn sceptics to sound thinking, by shewing
that, if false philosophy became general, it would
ultimately destroy their rank, consequence,
and property. In his ironical attack upon ar
}
#
[29]
tificial society, he purposely employs the com
mon-place mode of unfair reasoning. He argues
from incidental abuses against the several forms
of political society. Though he intentionally
draws a wrong conclusion from his statement
of existing abuses, the statement itself is very
eloquent, and not much overcharged. Pre-
tending to prove that, because wars often take
place between political societies, political so-
ciety itself is bad, he draws a very striking and
glowing picture of the horrors of war, and
enters into a particular detail of the butcheries
arising from the enmities of men. He gives a
summary of the effects of the proceedings of
Sesostris, Semiramis, and other conquerors,
Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, Grecian, and
Roman; the northern swarm, the Saracens,
Tartars, and those of more modern times, in
the bloodshed and devastation that they have
caused. "From (says he) the earliest dawn-
ings of policy to this day, the invention of men
has been sharpening and improving the mys
tery of murder, from the rude essays of clubs
and stones, to the present perfection of gun-
nery, canoneering, bombarding, mining, and
all other species of artificial, learned, and re-
fined cruelty, in which we are now so expert,
and which make a principal part of what poli-
ticians have taught us to believe is our princi-
pal glory." He ironically imputes the evils
he has detailed to political society, alledging
✓
[ 30 ]
that, if men were not so associated, it would have
been impossible to find numbers sufficient for
such slaughters agreed in the same bloody pur-
pose.
"How far then nature would have car-
ried us, we may judge by the examples of those
animals who still follow her laws, and even of
those to whom she has given dispositions more
fierce, and arms more terrible, than ever she
intended we should use. It is an incontestible
truth, that there is more havock made in one
year by men, of men, than has been made by
all the lions, tygers, panthers, ounces, leopards,
hyenas, rhinoceroses, 'elephants, bears, and
wolves, upon their several species since the
beginning of the world, though these agree ill
enough with each other,"
He goes over the various forms of political
society, mentioning their defects; in perfect
imitation of sceptical philosophy, pulling them
down, and building no other systems in their
place. So complete is the irony, that to many,
not acquainted with such disquisitions, he would
appear to be seriously inveighing against esta-
blished government. Some modern democrats
might suppose that he was supporting the doc-
trines of one of their apostles. The following
passage, among many others, very happily
imitates the declamation of anarchists.
with respect to you, ye legislators, ye civilizers
of mankind, ye Orpheuses, Moseses, Minoses,
Solons, Theseuses, Lycurguses, Numas !—
" But
[ 31 ]
1
}
with respect to you, be it spoken, your regu-
lations have done more mischief in cold blood
than all the rage of the fiercest animals, in their
greatest terrors or furies, has ever done, or
ever could do." Such opinions so much re-
semble those of disorganizing speculators, that
many parts of the Vindication of Natural So-
ciety against Artificial Societies, if taken seri-
ously, as some readers might take it, would ap-
pear intended to prove speculatively what the
Vindication of the Rights of Nature, in opposition
to the Usurpation of Establishment, RECOMMENDS
TO PRACTICE.
The Vindication of Natural Society displays,
at once the extent of his knowledge, in the his-
torical statements; the versatility of his genius,
in the happy imitation of Bolingbroke; and the
force of his sagacity, in perceiving, though
hitherto, unguided by experience, the tendency
of scepticism to dissolve the bands of society.
This essay is evidently the production of a mind
of no ordinary portion of talents, but of talents
not yet quite arrived at their zenith.
His first acknowledged literary work did not
meet with so great success as its ingenuity
deserved. Like the paradoxes of the Vicar of
'Wakefield's son, it neither excited much praise
or blame: like Hume's first effort, it fell dead-
born from the press, but was afterwards revived
by its younger brothers.
Burke was still a student in the Temple;
}
ap
[ 32 ]
but although no man could be more completely
master of law, either in its details, or general
principles, as a subject of moral and political
history and science, yet he does not appear to
have studied it with very great zeal as a pro
fession. Hume informs us, in his own Life, that,
though professing to study law, he found an
insurmountable aversion to every thing but
the pursuits of general learning. "While they
(his friends) fancied I was poring over Voet
and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the au-
thors I was secretly devouring." In the like
manner, works of taste, genius, and philosophy
attracted Burke more powerfully than usage,
decision, and statute. Homer and Longinus
occupied his mind more than Montesquieu and
Littleton.
Soon after his Vindication of Natural Society,
he published an Essay on the Sublime and Beauti-
ful, a work which shewed a genius much be-
yond that of common critics, and even of
highly approved critics. In considering this
essay, we are not to look for a rhetorician enu-
merating constituents of fine writing, but for a
PHILOSOPHER TRACING PHENOMENA AND THEIR
CAUSES in physical and moral nature. He not
only collects and narrates facts, but investigates
principles; he is not merely an experimental,
he is a scientific critic. Longinus possessed
more the genius of a poet than the investigating
coolness of a philosopher. He illustrated and
| 88 ]
exemplifies sublimity rather than unfolds its
causes. In treating of the Sublime, Longinus
includes the pathetic, and even the beautiful.
His treatise affords less distinct instruction con-
cerning the sublime in particular, than ideas
concerning excellent composition in general.
Burke saw and proved the difference between
the sublime and beautiful," and considered
each as connected with a branch of the pathe.
tic: the former with the stronger and more
violent passions; the latter, with the milder
and more pleasant. The sublime and beauti-
ful, he shews, differ very essentially in consti-
tuents, effects, and causes.
To analyze a work so universally known as
this essay would be superfluous: I shall there-
fore confine myself to its spirit, instead of
following its detail. It will be generally al-
lowed by readers conversant on such subjects,
that the author displays a mind both " .
feelingly
alive to each fine impulse," and able to inves-
tigate its own, operations, their effects and
causes. It unites Longinus and Aristotle.
Burke is a philosophical anatomist of the human
mind. In respect of taste and its objects, he
is what Hutchinson is in respect to the af-
fections, and Locke to the understanding-
the first who by experiment and analysis in-
vestigated an important subject in pneuniato-
logy. Like those two profound philosophers,
his account of phænomena is just and accurate,
F
[ 34 ]
though some of his theories may be incomplete
and fanciful.
Whoever turns his attention to subjects of
taste, must see that Burke's enumeration of
the qualities which constitute sublimity and
beauty is exact. Whoever is acquainted with
literary history, must know that an analytical
enquiry and scientific discussion of these sub-
jects is new. Mr. Addison, indeed, in his Spec-
tators on the Pleasures of the Imagination, de-
scribes grandeur and beauty in general; but
does not analyze either so as to give a clear
view of constituents, much less to ascertain
principles.
Many readers, who will admit the justness of
Burke's account of qualities, may esteem some
of his hypotheses incomplete. Whatever (says
he) is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of
pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in
any sort terrible, or conversant about terrible
objects, or operates in a manner analogous to
terror, is a source of the sublime." That
terror is a principal source he very clearly
demonstrates, and ingeniously illustrates; but
în esteeming terrible objects, and those of ana-
logous operation, the sole constituents of subli-
mity, he appears, like many men of genius, to
be led too far by the love of system.
{ }
}
Like Pythagoras, he, in some cases, errs
from the tendency of a great mind to genera-
lization. There are many objects sublime
t
{
+
[ 35 ]
which are not terrible. Magnificence, vastness,
force, constituents of sublimity, and included
in his enumeration, excite either astonishment
or admiration, sentiments not analogous to ter-
ror. A war-horse, a lofty and spacious build-
ing, are sublime without being terrible.
But though somewhat fanciful in parts of
his theory, Burke is a perspicuous observer,
and a philosophical investigator. In his detail
of constituents he is accurate and compre-
hensive; in his assignation of efficient causes
often just, sometimes imaginative, always
acute and ingenious; in his reasoning on final
causes profound, wise, and pious.
We may consider the Essay on the Sublime
and Beautiful in two lights,-as an addition to
literature, and an exhibition of genius. It af-
fords the greatest accession to the knowledge
of a most important branch of pneumatology,
and its appropriate objects, of any work which
has yet appeared. Succeeding writers, who
have rejected the theory, have done little more
than copy the account of the phænomena.-It
displays the learning of a scholar, the invention
of a poet, and the wisdom of a philosopher.
Johnson considered this work as a model of
philosophical criticism. "We have (he said)
an example of true criticism in Burke's Essay
on the Sublime and Beautiful. There is no
great merit in shewing how many plays have
ghosts in them, or how this ghost is better
↑
[ 36 ]
than that, you must shew how terror is im
pressed on the human heart."
Burke, from this work, soon became univer.
sally known and admired. The ignorant and
superficial, from the subject, believed him to
be a man of taste; the learned and the wise,
from the execution, knew him to be a man of
taste and profound philosophy.
On perusing Burke's book, his father was so
enraptured as to send him a remittance of one
hundred pounds;-from him a considerable
sum, as he had not then got the estate, which
afterwards descended to Edmund from an elder
brother, and was far from being opulent By
this remittance, and the sale of his book, he was
relieved from some pecuniary embarrassments,
which pressed him at the time.
He began now to be known as a man of great
genius and erudition. The publication of the
Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful is a GRAND
EPOCH in the literary history of Burke, as from
it we may date the commencement of his emi-
nence as a writer. This treatise is, therefore,
not only an important accession to philosophy,
an exertion of extraordinary genius, but a
ground work of extraordinary fame.
In consequence of the manifestation of his
intellectual powers, men of distinguished ta-
lents courted his acquaintance.
In reviewing the life of any man, it is often
necessary to attend to those with whom he had
[ 37 ]
*
most frequent intercourse, whether private, li-
terary, or political. Respecting the literary
friends of Burke the public is indebted for much,
valuable information to Mr. Boswell's Life of
Johnson; a book which, though it contains
materials that might have been as well, for the
reputation of the author and of his subject, left
out, certainly is replete with useful and enteṛ-
taining facts and observations. The history of
Boswell himself, and of the family of Auchin-
leck, does not diminish the value of the many
faithful transcripts of the mind and conversa-
tion of Johnson and his companions, of whom
Burke was, beyond all others, the most highly
admired. At this time his fellow student,
Goldsmith, was in London, and was commen-
cing his literary career. Goldsmith from Dublin
had gone to Edinburgh, and studied physic.
Afterwards he set out for the continent, and
pursued his travels on foot, somewhat in the
manner of the hero's son, George, in his novel
of the Vicar of Wakefield, partly by demand-
ing at universities to enter the lists as dispu-
tant, by which, according to the custom of
many, if he acquitted himself well, he was en-
titled to a dinner, a bed, and a crown in money.
He returned to England, and was employed
successively as an usher to an academy, a cor-
rector to the press, a reviewer, and a writer for
newspapers. He assiduously cultivated the ac-
quaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were
}
累
​1
[ 38 ]
}
gradually enlarged by the contemplation of
that great man. "His mind," says Boswell,
probably expressing from recollection the opi-
nion of Johnson, " resembled a fertile but thin
soil: there was a quick, but not a strong ve-
getation of whatever chanced to be sown. No
deep root could be struck. The oak of the
forest did not grow there, but the elegant
shrubbery and the fragrant parterre."
In Johnson's commendation of Goldsmith,
prefatory to the Life of Parnell, there is no-
thing inconsistent with this opinion. He praises
him for doing well whatever he attempted,
which does not imply that he either attempted
or performed any very great or difficult work.
Mr. (Sir Joshua) Reynolds and the Colossus
of English literature sought the acquaintance
of the Author of the Sublime. Intimate friend-
ship soon succeeded his acquaintance with both.
Mr. Reynolds's house was the favourite resort
of men of talents. Among the ingenious and
wise of his own countrymen, Johnson stood
"like Saul among the people." Indeed, among
many eminent for literary talents, the three
kingdoms afforded each a man exalted above
the rest:-Johnson, Hume, and Burke. John-
son, from the commencement of their acquain-
tance, discovered in Burke that extraordinary
genius and knowledge which the world after-
wards saw. He declared he was the greatest
man living, and that if you were to be driven
}
[39]
to seek shelter from a shower of rain under the
same gateway with him, you must in a few
minutes perceive his superiority over common
men. This observation shewed not only John-
son's exalted idea of Burke's treasures, but also
of his powers of communication.
He saw
there was in him not only a surprising general
facility of communicating and applying his in-
tellectual stores, but a wonderful versatility in
adapting his explanations and discourses to the
subject, and to the capacity of the hearers."
"If (said he) Burke were to go into a stable,
and talk for a short time with the ostlers, they
would venerate him as the wisest man they had
ever seen." Indeed, in every company, of
whatever rank or capacity, he poured out his
mind; but it was not the display of pedantry,
it was the effusion of fulness.
How greatly Johnson delighted in convivial
meetings, and how he relished the attractions
of a tavern, and enjoyed that unrestrained con-
versation which it admits much more than
domestic parties, is well known. A weekly
club was instituted for his gratification, and for
the instruction and entertainment of its several
members. The place of meeting was the
Turk's-head, Gerrard-street, Soho; the time.
every Monday, at seven in the evening. The
club, at its institution, consisted of the follow-
ing members: Johnson, Burke, Goldsmith,
Reynolds, Mr. Topham Beauclerc, Dr. Nu-
2
&
Y
[ 40 ]
K
gent, Sir John Hawkins, Mr. Chaniier, Mr.
Bennet Langton.
1
Mr. Beauclerc united to the character of a
man, of parts, information, and taste, that of
the man of fashion. Having spent much time
in Italy, he improved his natural taste for the
fine arts by the contemplation of the most
exquisite models. With classical literature,
history, and antiquities, he was beyond most
men acquainted. His conversation was va
riegated-learned,, witty, generally gay, some-
times serious, and always polite,-admirably
adapted for diffusing pleasure over a com-
pany. He was a great collector of books,
and at his death left a library which yielded
upwards of five thousand pounds. Though
dissipated, his many amiable and respectable
qualifications rendered him a great favourite
with Burke and Johnson. Nugent was a phy-
sician, well esteemed for professional talents,
general information, and agreeable manners.
He was father-in-law to Burke.
Hawkins is since known as the executor and
biographer of Johnson, and the historian of
music. Chamier, though bred a stock-broker;
had received a liberal education, was a good
scholar, and particularly well versed in modern
languages. Mr. Langton, a gentleman of Lin-
colnshire, of parts and knowledge, and from
congeniality of religious and political notions, a
[ 41 ]
1
1
啦
​distinguished favourite with Johnson-Rey-
nolds, long before that time eminent for his
genius and skill:-Goldsmith, rising to literary
Far above others stood Burke and
renown.
Johnson..
+
From this account it is evident that every
member of the club was qualified to contribute
a considerable portion of pleasing and useful
conversation. This society was, in the talents
and learning of its members, not inferior to
the famed Scriblerus club of the preceding
agé. Two of the number stand higher than
Pope or Swift. The greatest admirers of the
wit, humour, and genius of these two extraor-
dinary men, will hardly consider them as equal
to the capacity, fulness, powers, and exertion
of Johnson to the force; versatility? expan-
sion; richness, and invention of Burke How-
3
ever much the world is indebted to the sepa-
rate efforts of the members of this club, it does
not appear that, like those of the Scriblerus,
they employed their literary labours in any
joint work. Indeed this is not difficult to ac-
count for the leading men of the Scriblerus
resembled one another in the species as well as
the degree of their excellence; whereas Johnson
and Burke were as different from each other
in the species and direction of their talents, as
they were superior to most men in the de.
grees of their mental powers. But though the
members of the Turk's-head did not unite
'
[42]
their talents in the production of any work,
they derived very great advantages from mu-.
tual intercourse, communication of opinions,
and the result of separate experience, closely
examined and ably discussed. Though they
did not join their talents in one work, they
exerted themselves severally in the club, by
speaking or writing on subjects of literature..
?
ኑ
<<
The members of the Turk's head, like those
of the Scriblerus club, very frequently unbent
themselves by light amusements and frolics.
A remark made on the latter may be equally
applied to other literary societies. They
(the Scriblerus-club) often experienced the
truth of Horace's observation, Dulce est desipere
in loco. The time for wits to play the fool is
when they meet together to relax from the se-
verity of mental exertions. Their follies have
frequently a degree of extravagance much be-
yond the phlegmatic merriment of sober dul-
ness, and can be relished by those only who,
having wit themselves, can trace, the extrava-
gance to the real source, and make a candid
allowance for an effect arising from so noble a
cause." *
ليه
}
W
X
The Turk's-head indulged themselves in
agreeable trifling as well as important discus-.
sion. Goldsmith contributed no less to the
R
↓
2
* See Lives of the Authors of the Spectator, published by G. Cawthorn,
No. 132, Strand.
}
[ 43 ]
}
amusement of the club by his foibles and ab.
surdities than to their entertainment by his
abilities. Perhaps, indeed, there never was a
man, the various traits of whose character were
more inconsistent than those of Goldsmith,—
never a more motely mixture of strength and
weakness, clearness and confusion, knowledge
and ignorance. Though capable of exhibiting
human character naturally and humorously,
either in a single essay or through a volume,
he could not tell a story without murdering it.
Although in continuous writings his views were
clear, just, and comprehensive; in occasional
conversation he was perpetually falling into
gross `blunders. In his literary efforts, he
pourtrayed nature, without deviating from
truth: embellishing whatever he represented, *
he produced whatever effect he desired. In
company he always said or did something dif-
ferent from what he intended. The opponents
of a nobleman of considerable talents affixed to
him the name of Malagrida. This nobleman,
it is well known, has been accused of insince-
rity and duplicity. Goldsmith being in com-
pany with him, and probably meaning to say
to him that he wondered how people could ap-
ply to his Lordship the name of a man of fair
character as a term of reproach, said, “I am
``
* Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit.
Epitaph, Westminster Abbey,
1
[44]
1
surprised how they can call your Lordship
Malagrida, Malagrida was an honest man."
Goldsmith valued himself very much on his
bon mots; and, were we to judge from his pub-
lications, we might conceive not without rea-
son, but in conversation the point was lost,
As he was extremely vain in general, he was
peculiarly so in what concerned his colloquial
powers, not only trying new jests, but repeat-
ing those he made in other companies; and
was much mortified if they did not produce the
intended laugh. Hawkins, in his Life of John-
son, tells us that a common preface of Gold-
smith to a story was, "I'll tell you a story of
myself, which some people laugh at and some
do not." One evening, as the company was
breaking up, he told them if they would call
for another bottle they should hear one of his
bon mots. They agreed, and he began thus:
"I was once told that Sheridan the player, in
order to improve himself in stage gesture, had
looking-glasses, to the number of ten, hung
about his room, and that he practised before
them; upon which I said, then there were
tén ugly fellows together." The company not
discovering much humour in this story, and
perhaps wishing to mortify his anxious solici-
tude for praise, did not laugh He went away
in a great passion, without tasting the wine.
The members often amused themselves with
making puns. Goldsmith was eager to try any
means to attain praise; and not only tried his
}
}
[ 45 ]
1
i
invention, but endeavoured to retail the
puns he
He had
pease to
heard in other companies as his own.
heard 'the pun about sending stale
Hammersmith, as that was the way to (turn'em ·
green) Turnham Green. Believing that pun
new, he resolved to use it, as his own, and at
supper, pretending to think the pease too old,
called to the waiter to send the pease to Ham-
mersmith. "To Hammersmith, Sir ?" "Yes,
(says Goldsmith) that's the way to make them
green." He was very angry that the company
found no jest, blundering out, "it was a very
good joke when I heard it last night." He af
fected the manner of Johnson; and the club, to
vex him, called him Dr. Minor, giving to John.
son, as all must acknowledge he deserved
among any Doctors, the appellation of Dr.
Major. He was greatly affronted with the
application of the title of Dr. Minor to him.
Johnson had a custom of contracting the
names of his friends, as Mund for Edmund.
Goldsmith was much displeased with the con-
traction of Goldy as a diminution of his im-
portance, and said, "I wish, Sir, you would
not call me Goldy, but Dr. Goldsmith." His
vanity extended even to his dress
He was as
anxious to be thought well attired as an ig.
norant beau, or a boarding-school girl, but
had no earthly taste in the choice of habili-
ments. He one day came to the club in a very
glaring bloom-coloured coat, and strutted about,
મ
}
¿
[ 46 ] ·
looking at his clothes, and seemingly wishing
them to attract the attention of the company.
Some of them ridiculed his dress. He, to
prove how wrong they were, said, "let me
tell you, gentlemen, when my taylor brought
home this coat, he begged of me to tell all my
friends who made it." Why (said Johnson)
that was because he knew the strange colour
would attract crouds to gaze at it, and thus
they might hear of him, and see how well he
could make a coat even of so absurd a colour."
By such frivolities did the author of the De-
serted Village, of the Vicar of Wakefield, and the
Travellers, often expose himself to men greatly
his inferiors in intellectual powers.
In the club, Burke frequently amused him-
self with punning; but his efforts generally
produced some resemblance of thought, ima-
gery, or sentiment, not merely a play of words.
One recorded by Boswell was on the mob chair.
ing Wilkes. This being mentioned at the club,
Burke made a small change in the words in which
Horace describes Pindar's numbers:-Fertur
numeris lege solutis. He (Pindar) is carried (by
the force and rapidity of his genius) in num-
bers uncontrouled by law, (the rules of versi-
fication). Burke, instead of numeris made bu
meris. He (Wilkes) is carried on shoulders.
uncontrouled by law. Even here, besides the
play of words, we see that he, though a friend
to liberty, satirizes the licentiousness of a mob,
[ 47 ]
}
}
A
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appre-
Burke, from the exuberance of his mind, took
a considerable share in the conversation; but
was always unassuming and polite, listening
with attention to the observations of others,
and endeavouring to descend to an equality
with every member. His manners and collo-
quial talents rendered him the delight and ad-
miration of the company, but most of all of
John'son, who was the most capable of
ciating his excellence. He remarked, that
whenever he was in company with Burke hé
went away more knowing and wiser than he
came, and that every time they conversed, his
mind was kept on the full stretch. The mem-
ber's of the club, and other friends of both, ob-
served that Johnson- never discoursed with
greater animation and energy than when his
powers were excited by Burke.
Soon after the institution of the' club, Mr.
Garrick, who had been on his travels, returned
to England, and being well acquainted with
most of the members, gave some intimation
that he would be one of their number,
rolez
suppos
hebroper &
ing that the least hint of such a desire would
be eagerly embraced Johnson, who, though
he loved Garrick, undervalued his profession,
was offended at what he esteemed the presump.
tion of an offer where he ought to have made a
request. "He will be one of us!-how does he
know we will let him?" Burke, who equally
regarded Garrick, and thought much more
1
1
1
[· 48 ]
highly of theatrical talents, wished he might be
introduced; but Johnson exclaimed,
He will
disturb us with his buffoonery." Neither Burke,
nor others, who were disposed to admit him,
insisted on his admission; so that he did not
become a member immediately, but was after-
wards received into, the club. Sir John Haw-
kins, therefore, is inaccurate in his assertion, that
Garrick was never elected. It is a matter of no-
toriety that he was chosen a member, and that he
continued so to his death. Sir John states him-
self to have left it, because the hours, were later
than agreeable to him, and convenient to his
family. Most men, who had taste and com
prehension of intellectual excellence, would
have, for such company, continued an hour
or two longer, even though not altogether con-
formable to their usual practice, and the re-
gulations of their family. To men of talents
such company as Johnson, and Burke would
be a much higher treat than an opera ora
ball to the frivolous votaries of fashionable
amusements. According to Boswell, who very
faithfully recorded whatever related to the
club, Sir John, one evening, attacked Burke
so rudely, that all the company testified their
displeasure. At their next meeting they re-
ceived Hawkins so coolly as to prevent his fu
ture visits.
εί.
Burke made considerable progress, in a confu.
tation of the visionary theories of Berkley and
[ 49 ។
1
}
and Hume concerning the existence of mat-
ter. Had not other objècts withdrawn his at-
tention from metaphysical discussions, it is
probable he might have controverted more of
Hume's positions, and followed him to ethics
and religion. He was a rational christian ;
and no man better understood the foundation of
his faith, or could more ably defend it against
attacks. His pen, if employed on the subject,
must have produced an answer which even
Hume could not have had the hardihood to
disregard. But it belongs not to the biogra-
pher to expatiate into the regions of possibility,
his province is to narrate facts. Politics soon
accupied Burke's attention, so much as to leave
little time for publications with which they had
no immediate connection.
While studying the philosophy of Hume, he
was not inattentive to a subject which occupied
that illustrious man, to the much greater benefit
of mankind. He became more intimately con-
versant with history in general, and the history
of these realms in particular; carrying his, at-
tention to more recent periods than those which
our philosophical historian has described. He
made himself master of our history, external
and internal, from the revolution, in all its
branches; its great and increasing complica-
tions and varieties. In 1758, he proposed to
Mr. Dodsley a plan of an ANNUAL REGISTER of
the civil, political, and literary transactions of
H
[ 50 ]
the times. Mr. Dodsley acceded, and the work
was carried on for several years, either by Burke,
or under his immediate inspection. After-
wards, when he was immersed in active politics,
it was conducted under his general superinten-
dence, with only occasional exertions of his
own genius. To ascertain what parts of the
Annual Register were executed by Burke him-
self requires no very great degree of penetra-
tion in a reader. Although several writers for
this publication were men of learning, it is easy
to distinguish between the effects of men of let-
tered industry and of extraordinary powers.
He had, at an early period of his life, become
connected in intimate friendship with Mr. Ha-
milton, known by the name of Single-speech
Hamilton, from an uncommonly excellent speech
which he once delivered in the House of Com-
mons. As he never distinguished himself by any
other display of eloquence in the British senate,
his friend, Mr. Burke, has been supposed the
author of that oration. What has served to
confirm the public in this opinion is, that af-
terwards, when Mr. Hamilton went over as Se-
cretary to Lord Halifax, Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, he prevailed on this Mentor to ac-
company him, and procured for him a pension
on the Irish establishment of three hundred
pounds a year. Mr. Hamilton distinguished
himself by a second speech in the Irish parlia-
ment, on a motion of Administration for suf-
}
R
[51]
#
fering popish regiments to be raised in Ireland,
for assisting Portugal against Spain. Burke was
also supposed to be the composer of this speech.
From being believed to have written in favour
of employing papists as soldiers, a fiction arose
that he was a papist himself. To give consist-
ency to this fiction, it was reported that he had
received his education and principles at St.
Omers.
Those who were best acquainted with Hamil-
ton and Burke, do not think that the latter
composed any of the speeches spoken by the
former. The talents of Hamilton, and his lite-
rary attainments, were very great, and fully
adequate to the production of the speeches which
he spoke. An ample fortune, however, pre-
cluding the necessity of forming habits of in-
dustry, and affording the means of pleasurable
indulgence, to which he was pronė, encouraged
an indolence which kept his great talents from
being vigorously exercised. At no period of
his life was Burke addicted to dissipation. Of
gaming he is said to have been so completely
ignorant, that we are informed by an eminent
countryman of his, that he hardly knew a single
game at cards. To such a mind the resources
were so abundant as to render unnecessary the
aid of pictured pasteboard.
The time was now approaching when his
talents were to be displayed on the great
political theatre.
He returned to England,
*
[ 52 ]
X
His pension exempted him from the constant
necessity of frittering his genius in epheme-
rous productions. He employed himself in
collecting treasures of wisdom, especially mo-
ral and political knowledge and philosophy, at-
tending at once to detail and generalization,
fact and principle, usage and law. He still
occasionally wrote political essays in periodical
publications. The Public Advertiser was then
the paper in which men of literature and
genius most frequently contributed their efforts.
Burke's writings in that journal attracted the
notice of that worthy nobleman, the Marquis
of Rockingham, who remarked their uncom-
mon ability, and soon sought the acquaintance
of the author. He was introduced to the
Marquis by Mr. Fitzherbert, father of Lord St.
Helens. This may be considered as a grand
epoch in the life of Burke, as from it commenced
his political career.
As he is soon to make his appearance in a
different situation from what he has hitherto oc-
cupied, it may not be improper to take a view
of his intellectual and moral character during a
life solely literary, and that could not yet be
called political. As a man of genius and learn-
ing he had established his reputation, and was
ranked in a very high class. His Essay on the
Sublime and Beautiful had displayed extraòr-
dinary powers, both of invention and research.
His periodical performances marked at once
·
[53]
=
1
#
accuracy and multiplicity of knowledge, extent
of views, and variety and appropriation of
language. His conversation was equally in-
structive, pleasing, and entertaining. His mo-
ral character was as amiable and respectable as
his intellectual was admirable. His integrity
was unimpeached. Every action appeared to
flow from benevolence. To render those with
whom he consorted happy was the leading
object of his conduct. His behaviour was de-
licate, insinuating, and engaging. The softness
of his manners tempered the lustre of his ge-
nius. His temper. was mild, sweetness and
sensibility marked his countenance. There had
not yet appeared that excessive irritability, that
phrenzy of passion, which the contentions of
the senate afterwards drew forth. The sparks
were latent antecedent to the collision of party
The inflammable particles caught
not fire previous to parliamentary concussion.
In the thinner atmosphere of literary seclusion,
those combustibles evaporated, which, in the
denser medium of active, politics, burst out in
lightning and thunderbolts. In his circum-
stances, he, though very far from being opu-
lent, was, by his intellectual labours, dependent
only on his genius. He surpassed most men
not only in knowledge and powers, but in rea-
diness of exertion and vigour of persevering
industry. His talents, with his habits of exer-
cise, and the terms he could command, from
contest.
[54]
the estimation in which he was held, were suf.
ficient to insure him an independent income.
Such was his state in respect of talents, habits,
temper, and the means of independence. Such
was the stock he carried with him when he be-
took himself to politics. By the probable ef
fects of his qualifications, if exclusively devoted
to literary efforts, compared with their actual
effects, principally devoted to public affairs, is
his removal from the closet to the senate to be
deemed fortunate or unfortunate to himself and
to mankind.
To enable us to comprehend the conduct of
a political actor, it is necessary to take a view
of public affairs at the commencement of his
agency, and to remark their progress and va-
riations during its continuance.
When Burke first entered on the business of
the nation, clouds were gathering over the po-
litical atmosphere, clouds, which, if they did
not portend a certain storm, rendered its ap-
proach probable. In the East, indeed, there
was sun-shine; over-head the sky was overcast-
ing; in the west it lowered: res in oriente pros-
peræ, in occidente minaces. Internally, discon-
tents were prevalent; in the American colonies,
disaffection rapidly spreading.
✔
Soon after the commencement of this reign,
a spirit of opposition to Government was rising
to disloyalty and turbulence. The resignation
of a Minister of uncommon talents, vigour, de-
[55]
measures.
cision, and success, displeased the public. De
prived of his invigorating influence and wise'
direction, it was apprehended the counsels of
Government would become imprudent and
feeble. Although the career of success not only
continued undiminished, but was increased,
victory was imputed to the adoption of his plans
by persons unable themselves to frame wise
With the fame and popularity of
his predecessor, national prejudice concurred
in rendering Lord Bute odious to the natives
of England. Pitt was a Minister of extraor-
dinary abilities; little merit would have been
found in a successor even from England. The
place of his nativity, independent of the virtues
of his predecessor, would have been found suf-
ficient to attach demerit to a Scotchman. The
avowed reason for dislike to the Scotch Mini-
ster was, that the liberty of the country was
in danger, from his principles and conduct.
1
The Earl of Bute was certainly not indebted
to superiority of capacity for his exaltation.
His talents, though not contemptible, were by
no means great; his attainments were such as
moderate parts can easily reach. He was a
good classical scholar; he was tolerably well
versed in those experimental details in natural
history, physics, chemistry, botany, and astro-
nomy, which frivolous minds dignify with the
name of philosophy. But neither in natural,
moral, or political knowledge, were his views
}
[56]
Y
enlarged. In his principles of government he
was arbitrary; in his disposition proud: he
was ambitious far beyond his capacity; and,
though of a decent moral character, by no
means agreeable in his manners. He was thought
tinctured with the dissimulation and artifice by
which common minds often attempt to supply
the want of great talents. By these means he
was supposed to have come into power, and
from the manifest earnestness with which he
sought to disgust men of distinguished abilities
and of popular principles, was believed to have
formed a plan of governing the country by
mere court favouritism. Far inferior to Pitt.
in powers, far inferior to the Duke of Newcastle
in popular deportment, he was, by the majority
of the nation, at once hated and disregarded.
His talents were too trifling to enforce vene-
ration; nor did he, by an engaging demeanour,
endeavour to win affection. His measures soon
increased the odium which his character had
excited. A determined resolution appeared
to elevate the friends of arbitrary power, and
degrade the supporters of freedom. To his
internal measures his external joined in stir-
ring up discontent. A peace, made on much
less advantageous terms than believed attain-
able, in the hour of universal victory, height-
ened the outcry. To inflame popular discon
tent, leaders are never wanting. Abuse of the
minister extended to abuse of his country, and
Y
[57]
rose to abuse of the royal family, and of the So-
vereign himself. The King was represented as
deviating from the principles and conduct of
his two predecessors, and likely to imitate the
despotic measures of the house of Stuart. He
had been educated by an arbitrary tutor, and
was apprehended by many to have imbibed the
same principles himself. The virtual dismis-
sion, first, of the greatest and most popular mi-
nister of the century, and, afterwards, of the
Whig connections, made room for the tutor to
be his minister, and added to the apprehension.
Courtiers, indeed, asserted that, whereas his
two predecessors had devoted themselves to one
party, the present King was resolved to be
of none. The Whigs replied, that the two
former Kings had chosen their ministers from
those who maintained the principles to which
they owed their throne; but that Bute main-
tained the principles, by the explosion of which
the present family came to the crown. From
these circumstances, it was inferred by the Op-
position, that the Sovereign himself must have
a predilection for unlimited monarchy. In
many subordinate departments North Britons
were appointed to serve. According to popu-
lar speakers, writers, and their votaries, the
promotion of Scotchmen portended the down-
fall of English freedom. National prejudice
represented the Scotch, in general, as unfriend.
ly to liberty. The character of their patron
L
}
[58]
}
}
rendered this charge not improbable, as to the
creatures of Lord Bute in particular. Hatred
of Bute and his countrymen became so pre-
valent as to be reckoned a characteristic of
an English patriot. Writings in abundance
fanned the flame-writings of all descriptions,
from the vulgar ribaldry of ballads to the lively
wit and plausible declamation of Wilkes, and
the keen, poignant satire of Churchill. Lord
Bute, wherever he went, was received with the
most flagrant marks of contempt and hatred.
Finding that court favour was too feeble a
shield against the strong attacks of popular
detestation, he retired from office. The re-
signation of Lord Bute did not appease the
people. Their favourite orators and writers
persuaded them that he was still the acting,
though not the ostensible minister. It was gene-
rally believed that there was an interior cabinet,
from which the responsible officers of state were
obliged to receive directions. Popular writers
persevered in their invectives against the Court.
One of the most violent of anti-ministerial pu-
blications was the North Briton.
Mr. Wilkes, member for Aylesbury, was more
distinguished for pleasantry and colloquial ta-
lents, than for vigour of genius, eloquence, or po-
litical knowledge; more fitted for entertaining
and diverting a company, than for informing
and instructing a senate. His dissipation, to
which his companionable qualities probably
1
}
[59]
contributed, had greatly involved his circum-
stances. His profligate disregard of every
thing that was sacred, virtuous, or decent, had
ruined his character. In this situation, he had
applied to Lord Bute for some employment
which might enable him to extricate himself
from his difficulties. His character was so no-
torious, that Bute, who professed a great regard
for religion, and especially for the established
church, could not with any decency patronize
him, though a man who, from his principles
and desperate fortunes, might have easily been
rendered the willing tool of any designs, how-
ever arbitrary. Disappointed, Wilkes, in re-
venge, resolved to pour out invectives against
ministry, and established the North Briton for
that purpose. The observations were so trite,
vague, and superficial,that Lord Bute did not ap-
pear, for a considerable time, to pay any atten-
tion to the work. After his resignation, No. 45
was so audacious as to pour out the most false
and scurrilous abuse against the Sovereign him-
self. Silent contempt would have suffered this
paper speedily to pass into merited oblivion;
but the imprudent eagerness of ministry to pu-
nish its author, raised both the paper and him
to a notice which, probably, neither would have
otherwise attained. Wilkes had before been
little known, except for his profligący: the mi-
nisters raised him to eminence. His fortune
had been entirely ruined by vice and extrava-
1
£
[60]
1
gance the prosecution paved the way to opu-
lence. Discontent was already very great; the
proceedings against him made it spread with
astonishing rapidity.
Lord Mansfield, by far the ablest of those
members who generally supported Government,
was averse to the prosecution of Wilkes: “ I
am," said he, " decidedly against the prosecu-
tion: his consequence will die away, if you let
him alone; but by public notice of him, you
will increase that consequence-the very thing
he covets, and has in full view."
{
The resentment, however, of the court over-
came sound policy. The ministers, by appre-
hending him on a general warrant, overstepped
the boundaries of law. This deviation from
legal precision (though frequently precedented,
according to Blackstone, in extraordinary
cases), was construcd, by the popular leaders
and their followers, to be a flagrant invasion of
constitutional rights, and a justification of their
fears respecting the arbitrary designs of the
Court. Indeed, not the popular leaders only,
but one of the first sages of the law, Lord Chief
Justice Pratt (afterwards Camden), considered
the apprehension as illegal. Even many of
those, who, before, had been well disposed to-
wards Government, were seized with the con-
tagion, and joined with its most violent oppo-
nents, in associating the ideas of WILKES AND
LIBERTY. Wilkes took advantage of this de-
-
[61]
}
lusion. It was a remark often made by him to
his intimates, "That the public was a goose,
and that a man was a great fool.not to pluck a
feather." He set up a printing-press, published
the proceedings against him at one guinea a
copy, and considerably bettered his finances.
Many men, of real talents and virtue, thought
it a duty of patriotism to support, when op-
pressed, a man, whose private profligacy they
abhorred. Perhaps they might reason on the
principle so ably maintained by Cæsar, in his
speech on the discovery of Catiline's conspiracy,
that deviations from established law are more
dangerous when they regard worthless, than
worthy characters, as the wickedness of the
individual may draw away the attention of men
from the arbitrariness of the measure; and thus
the illegal act more easily steal into a precedent.
The persecution of Wilkes was one of the prin-
cipal causes of the internal discontents, which
marked the early part of the present reign.
The infamous Essay on Woman,* his expulsion
from the House of Commons, the prosecution
*
* Accompanied by notes, stated in the title-page to be
the production of Bishop Warburton; for which the Lords
prosecuted Wilkes, as guilty of a breach of their privileges.
The pretended imputation of obscene writing to a Bishop of
high character had not even the merit of originality. The
Latin poems, intituled MEURSIUS, as obscene and profane
as the Essa on Woman (with infinitely more wit, in fine lan-
guage, and very elegant verse), were so called from a Ger-
man Bishop, of very great sanctity and virtue.
}
[ 62 ]
+
of the Lords, the indictments for blasphemy
from the inferior courts, and the demands of
his creditors, concurred in driving him to exile.
He might himself have been forgotten, had not
subsequent injustice, at the instance of another
ministry, rekindled the popular flame. But,
though Wilkes was descending to oblivion, the
dissatisfaction was by no means subsiding. The
proceedings respecting the infamous Essay were
not attributed to a laudable zeal in favour of
piety and morality, but to resentment against
a person who had exposed the measures of mi-
nistry, and was likely to receive, from the laws
of his country, satisfaction for their illegal con-
duct. The Essay had not been published: a
nobleman, once the intimate companion of
Wilkes, and not more distinguished than he
for virtue and holiness, procured a copy, from
the confidence of friendship, and was the dis-
coverer.* Many of the most important mea-
sures of the legislature and executive govern-
ment, many of the most important questions
discussed in the courts of justice, were either
derived from the proceedings, of Wilkes and
his abettors, or with them and their conse-
quences intimately connected. These, there-
*Happy (says the witty Earl of Chesterfield, in one of
his letters to his son) is it for this nation, that God hath
been pleased to raise up, in Mr. Wilkes, a patriotic defender
of our rights and liberties; and, in the Earl of Sandwich,
so zealous a defender of our religion and morals!
[63]
fore, must be held in view, by all who would
judge impartially of the great political actors.
While discontent was spreading in England,
disaffection much more formidable was fast in-
creasing in America, which, if party at home
did not engender, it certainly nourished. The
discontent of America had its origin in a new
system adopted by Government. This was, to
raise, by authority of Parliament, a revenue
from the colonies, which had hitherto taxed
themselves. The system may be traced back
to the administration of Lord Bute; an admi-
nistration, which, combined with his subse.
quent influence, and the influence of those who
imbibed his sentiments, has been the source of
very momentous consequences to this country.
One branch of the policy by which Bute thought
his plans of government likely to be most effec-
tually carried into exécution, was to keep up a
much larger peace establishment of the army
than formerly. To support this additional
army, an additional revenue was necessary; the
more difficult, as Britain was very much ex-
hausted by the war recently concluded. Mr.
George Grenville, the ostensible Prime Mini-
ster, had devoted much of his time and atten-
tion to finance, and was esteemed a very skilful
financier. His skill, however, was directed
more to the productiveness of the duty than the
policy of the taxation. In devising various
schemes of revenue, it appeared to him that
+
>
2
#
៥. 64 ។
America, which had hitherto been left to tax
herself, for her own internal establishments,
· should be obliged to contribute to the general
support of the British empire. Several finan-
cial regulations of the British legislature, on
that principle, respecting the American colo-
nies, were, in America, represented as intole-
rable grievances in themselves, and as parts of
a plan to invade the liberty and property of the
colonies. This opinion was countenanced by
some of the greatest men in both houses of
parliament. Dissatisfaction, on each side of
the Atlantic, was increased, by reciprocal ac-
tion and re-action. Notwithstanding the pre-
valence of such sentiments, at home and abroad,
the Ministry proceeded with their plan of rais-
ing a revenue from America, and framed the
famous stamp-act; an act which displayed great
financial skill, "as it was simple, practicable,
and equitable in its operation, equally well
adapted to all the colonies, and in its nature ef-
ficacious." In America, objections were made,
not merely to some of its details, but to the com-
petency of the enactors. The right of the
British parliament to impose taxes on colonies,
not represented in it, was disputed with great
warmth. Very strong remonstrances were
transcribed, from the provincial assemblies to
1
*
*Sec Stedman's History of the American War, vol. i
Introduction.
p. 28,
3
the King and Parliament. Resolutions were
adopted, denying the right of Britain to impose
taxes. Means were employed for forming a ge-
neral combination, to prevent the measures of
Government from taking effect. The resolu-
tions of the Americans to oppose the stamp-act
necessarily produced very great interruption to
the commerce of this country. The mercan-
tile sufferers joined with the political disappro-
vers of the scheme of taxation, and dissatisfac-
tion with ministry was very general. Mr. Gren-
ville became very unpopular through the na.
tion, and was now no great favourite at court.
The dismission of the Grenville Administration
is said to have been owing principally to the
following circumstance.-On an illness of the
King, a plan was formed for a regency, should
any of the Princes come to the crown while a
minor. By this plan, the Princess of Wales
had been left out. Whether this was an unin.
tentional omission, or that the ministers did
not think the interference of a female, advanced
in years, necessary to the government of a great
empire, while there were men fully competent,
I do not know; but it was believed to have
given great offence to the members of the in-.
terior cabinet, who, being better acquainted
with her Royal Highness's talents, could more
justly appreciate the value of her counsel. It
must have been from the high sense which the
King's friends, as they called themselves, en-
K
A
[66]
tertained of the personal capacity of her Royal
Highness, that they proposed her to be one of
the council of regency; as it certainly could, be
no reason for a relation; assuming the reins of
government for a minor, that the relation hap-
pened to be that minor's grandmother. · The
preterition of the Princess accelerated, if not
caused, the dismission of Ministry.
3
*
น
臂
​There were then two parties in opposition to
Government, Mr. Pit's and the Duke of New-
câstle's. From the age and infirmities of his
Grace, the Marquis of Rockingham was consi-
dered as the acting leader. A favourable op-
portunity now offered itself to these parties,
combining the principal ability and property
of the kingdom, to overturn the system of
court-favouritism'; but the jealousies of the
leaders prevented an union so desirable to the
friends of liberty and their country. Over-
tures were made by the Court, first, to Mr. Pitt;
but he boldly and patriotically insisted, that all
the secret advisers, and their creatures, should
be entirely excluded from any share in the di
rection of affairs. To this the Court would not
Proposals were then made
to the Marquis of Rockingham and the Duke of
Newcastle, who, with their party, acceded to the
offers of the Court. Lord Rockingham was
appointed Prime Minister, and the Duke of
Newcastle President of the Council. This hasty
acceptance of office by the Rockingham party.
altogether agree.
*
}
A
[67]
1
displeased Pitt,...It is morally certain; that if
they had kept aloof for a short time, the joint
force of their party and Pitt's would have.com-
pelled the court junto, no longer supported by
Grenville and the Bedford interest, to suffer
them to form an administration on whatever
terms they pleased! Now Lord Rockingham
was Minister, with upright intentions, public
confidence; but without that support from all
the friends of freedom which would have; been
necessary to render him independent of fa-
vouritism. e
..
1
A
Such was the state of affairs when Burke be-
gan to devote his extraordinary talents to pub-
lic affairs, it by carapa
‹
r
亦
​}
1
Of his first introduction to the Marquis, he
himself gives an account in his speech.
" In
the year 1765, (be says) being in a very private
station, far from any line of business, and not
having the honour of a seat in this house, it
was my fortune, by the intervention of a com-
men friend, to become connected with a very.
nable person, then at the head of the Treasury
department. It was indeed a situation of little
rank and no consequence, suitable to the me
diocrity of my talents and pretensions; but a
situation, near enough to enable me to see, as
well as others, what was going on, and I did·
see in that noble person such sound principles,
such an enlargement of mind, such clear and
sagacious sense, and such unshaken fortitude,
*
*
*
[68]
1
ás have bound me, as well as others much better,
by an inviolable attachment to him from that
time forward.'
33
ގ
The Marquis offered to make Burke his own
secretary, which he accepted. Mr. Hamilton
was engaged with the opposite party, and
claimed the assistance of Burke as his early
friend. Various accounts have been given of
the separation of these two gentlemen. Some
have imputed it to a difference in political-sen-
timents, others to a private quarrel; whereas
neither was the cause. There was no diversity
in their political opinions, which might not
have been compromised; and they had no pri-
vate quarrel. They separated on the following
grounds, as I'am assured by an intimate friend
min
of both, a member of the present parliament
high in the public estimation, who often con
versed with each on the subject; and, besides,
saw a letter written by Burke to Hamilton, ex-
plaining the grounds and motives of his con-
duct. Burke, soon perceiving that the abilities
which he, and all who knew him, admired in
Hamilton, were not accompanied with the in-
dustry necessary to enable their possessor to
rise high in the political world, often, both
by word and letter; endeavoured to stimulate
his friend to more exertion, but in vain Find-
ing his efforts ineffectual, he wrote a letter, the
substance of which was an expostulation con-
cerning Hamilton's indolence, reminding him
{
[ 69 ]
that he himself had a growing family to main-
tain, and must turn his talents to what would
be useful; and, on that account, that he must
politically associate with men of more active
exertions. This, I can aver, was the substance
of the letter which explained the political se-
paration of Hamilton and Burke ; a separation
which, though it prevented the continuance of
their close intimacy, never rose to a quarrel.
•
However expedient it might be for Burke to
break off political intercourse with Hamilton,
as a most profound admirer of his genius, I
do not rejoice at the commencement of his
connection with the Marquis of Rockingham.
From that time he may be considered as a
PARTY MAN. Burke ought not to have stooped
to be the object of patronage. Like his friend
Johnson, he should have depended entirely on
his own extraordinary powers. He would have
been able uniformly to act as his own genius
prompted him, instead of employing his talents
in giving currency to the doctrines of others-
to have wielded his own club instead of a party
distaff. In this part of their conduct, Johnson
and Hume, the only two literary characters of
the age who can be placed in the same rank
with Burke, acted more worthily of the supe-
riority with which they were blessed by nature.
They attached themselves to no grandees: they
did not degrade the native dignity of genius,
by becoming retainers to the adventitious dig-
1
[70]
}
nity of rank. Johnson, in his garret, the abode
of independence, was superior to Burke in his
villa, the fee of a party. The former earned
his subsistence by his labour, the latter received
his by donative. Johnson was independent,-
Burke dependent. Besides, the very extraor
dinary talents of Burke did not tend to pro-
mote party objects more effectually than good
abilities, many degrees inferior to his, and mere
knowledge of business, would have done. But
had he been as superior to others in party skill,
as in genius and knowledge, the fertility of
his fancy and the irritability of his temper must
often have prevented him from directing his
skill steadily to the most useful ends. For so
much irascibility a situation of contention was
ill suited.
I am informed by the same friend of Hamil
ton and Burke, that the former gave an opi-
nion concerning the latter, not undeserving
of attention, as it illustrates some parts of his
conduct.
"Whatever opinion Burke, from any motive, sup-
ports, so ductile is his imagination, that he soon con-
ceives it to be right."
There are certainly some parts of his con-
duct, for which this alledged defect in his pow-
erful mind would account more favourably to
his sincerity, than his detractors have done.
Guided by his imagination, his energetic under.
standing might have been led into erroneous
[71]
conclusions, which a common mind would have
escaped. Bucephalus, if he had not been
strongly reined and skilfully managed, would
have run away with Alexander; whilst a very
ordinary rider of a common jade kept steadily
on in the direct road.
Hamilton's opinion is certainly more honour-
able to Burke than that of those who assert that he
changed his doctrines from corrupt motives;
but, I trust, it will, in the course of this narra-
tive, appear that he did not change his doc-
trines; but was, in the whole of his conduct,
consistent. This is an opinion that will be
firmly maintained by those who most accurately,
minutely, and comprehensively examine his
history. His imagination certainly operated
very powerfully, and had a considerable influ
ence on his opinions; an influence, however,
that, on every important subject, his reason vi-
gorously controuled.
Mr. Hamilton used to observe, that Burke
knew every subject of human knowledge ex-
cept two-gaming and music. He said he was as
ignorant of music as any pretended connoisseur
in operas.
Burke, disapproving of Hamilton's party,
would not join it, and, from a high spirit of equi-
ty, resigned the pension which Mr. Hamilton
had procured for him, when he could not sup-
port the man by whom it had been obtained.
This was a sacrifice to delicate integrity, which
[72]
I
1
t
not many in his circumstances would have made,
the support of whatever measures Mr. Hamil
ton's party might adopt not being an express
condition of the grant, though in Burke's re-
fined sense of right implied. This authentic
and important fact is a striking illustration of
the honourable principles by which he was ac-
tuated.
During the Rockingham Administration he
was chosen member of parliament for Wendo-
ver, in Buckinghamshire. This borough was
dependent on Lord Verney, between whom
and Burke a close intimacy subsisted, an inti-
macy concerning the pecuniary consequences of
which the friends of the one and of the other
gave very different accounts. These I shall no-
tice in their proper place.
*
Burke, on his entrance into the House of
Commons, employed himself in laying up stores
of knowledge. He was of the same opinion
with Cicero, that an orator ought to be ac-
quainted with every great and important sub-
ject of art and nature. Ac mea quidem sententia,
nemo poterit esse omni laude cumulatus orator, nisi
erit omnium rerum magnarum atque artium, scien-
tiam consecutus.
He prepared himself, not by devoting his
principal attention to balancing periods, but by
studying history, poetry, and philosophy; by
storing his mind with facts, images, reasonings,
and sentiments. He even applied himself to sub.
*
#
[ 23 ]
jects which do not very often occupy men of
taste and science. He became intin.ately con-
versant with the writings of the fathers, and
with the subtleties of school divines with the
principles and details of orthodoxy: the rise,
progress, and effects of the manifold heresies:
with the various means either of reason, or of
force, employed for their disproof or extir-
pation. However frivolous so great a mind
must have thought such distinctions and dis-
putes in themselves, he deemed them of great
importance in their operations, by illustrating
the force, acuteness, and invention which the
human mind can employ upon even frivolities
or absurdities: and of great consequence in
their effects; since, during the prevalence of
prejudice and ignorance, they had a most power-
ful influence on the happiness of society. In-
deed such subjects often called forth powers
of understanding equal to those which have
been applied to the investigation of useful phi-
losophy. In pitching a bar equal strength may
"be displayed as in carrying corn: in unproduc-
tive amusement, as in productive labour.
*
He attended especially to political know-
ledge and parliamentary usage. His industry
was also exercised in making himself acquaint-
ed with old records, patents, and precedents;
so as to render himself complete master of of
fice business, deeming no research too labori-
ous; no attainment too minute, which was to
L
2
}
[74]
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}
5.
1
/
fit him for the discharge of his duty. His di-
ligence was also employed in preparatory pub-
lic speaking. He frequented the Robinhood
society, to which many men of parts and in-.
formation then resorted. He practised there
the replies and contentions of eloquence; né-
glecting no means which he could devise for
filling his mind, or facilitating his powers of
communication. There was at that time in the
society a baker of very considerable argumen-
tative powers with him Burke contended; and,
by his own confession, derived very great ad-
vantage from the contest, in readiness of réa.
soning and expression. He bestowed great
pains on the composition of his writings and
speeches. Those intended for the public he,
notwithstanding his copiousness of thought,
imagery, sentiment, and fluency of appro-
priate language, revised, and sometimes re-
wrote. While he was devoting his mind to
the intellectual part of eloquence, he did not
neglect the mechanical. He paid considerable
attention to the management of his voice and
action, and to the whole of elocution: aware,
that though delivery does not constitute elo-
quence, it, with many hearers, increases, its ef-
fects. He often attended at the theatre, and
· acknowledged that he derived very great im-
provement in the art of speaking from Mr.
Garrick. His manner, however, was less grace-
ful and dignified than interesting, impressive,
•
[75]
and persuasive. He procured his seat in 1765.
His first speech was at the opening of the ensu-
ing session, and on the usual motion for an
address. The principal subject was the stamp.
act, and the consequent disturbances in Ame.
rica. His maiden speech afforded such a display
of eloquence as excited the admiration of the
house, and drew very high praise from its most
distinguished member, Mr. Pitt.
The principal object which engaged the at-
tention of the Rockingham Administration was
America. The sentiments of opposite parties
rendered their situation extremely delicate and
difficult. On the one hand, the Grenville
party, the devisers of taxation, and the framers
of the stamp-act, insisted on coercive measures:
on the other, Mr. Pitt and his adherents, on a
disavowal of the right of taxing America. Lord
Rockingham consulted with Burke, whose ad-
viće was," to chuse a middle course be-
tween the opposite extremes: neither to pre-
cipitate affairs with the colonists, by rash
counsels; nor to sacrifice the dignity of the
crown and nation, by irresolution or weakness."
A plan was formed consonant to this opinion.
To gratify the Americans, the stamp-act was
repealed: to vindicate the honour of Britain,
a law was passed declaring her right to legis-
late for America in taxation and every other
case; and censuring the violence of the colonial
opposition.
1.
3
[ 76 ]
t
#
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An attempt to satisfy two parties of totally
contrary views, by not deciding the paint at is
sue, is rarely either the offspring of wisdom, or
the parent of success. Such temporizing inde-
cision generally dissatisfies both parties. ard
keeps the differences alive. The stamp act had
been opposed in America, not as inexpedient,
but as unjust. They had not pretended they
could not pay the impost, but that the imposers
had no right to tax. Either the stamp-act was
a grievance, or was not: if a grievance, the re-
dress did not apply to the subject of complaint;
if not a grievance, why offer redress? If the
objections of the colonies were groundless, it
would have been just in Parliament to disre-,"
gard them; and wise or unwise, according to
the value of the object, means of coercion, and
probable result. If the right was ascertained,
and we thought coercion prudent, the repeal
would be absurd; if not, the declaration of
right would be a mere impotent bravado. If
the complaints of America were well grounded,
then it would have been just and wise to re-
nounce the exercise of an unjust power. Here
was the maintenance of an obnoxious specula-
tive principle, with the abandonment of practi-
cal benefit, for which only it could deserve sup
port. The declaratory law tended to counter-
act, in America, the effect of the repeal. The
measures of the Rockingham Administration
3
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[ 771
{
*
1.
were esteemed the result of good intentions,
but of feeble and short-sighted policy.
1
These measures, recommended and support-
ed by Burke, I cannot, consistently with impar-
tiality, praise, as manifestations of either great
political wisdom or vigour. His plan, at this
his outset, was founded more upon metaphysi-
cal distinctions and barren generalities, than
afterwards, when his great powers were, by ex-
perience, matured in the contemplation of af-
fairs. I must confess, I think that his sequester-
ed exertions, as a man of genius, literature, and
philosophy, could have produced much greater
benefit to society, in the same period, than his
political efforts during the Rockingham Admi- -
nistration.
The repeal of the stamp-act, and the decla-
ratory law, were proposed and passed.
The Rockingham Ministry, though supported
by the 'extraordinary genius and acquirements
of Burke, were deficient in political experience
and vigour; qualities much more efficacious in
the conduct of affairs, than, without them, the
highest intellectual superiority. It must, how-
ever, be allowed, that they proposed several
good laws. These Burke supported with all
the powers of his eloquence. The cider act was
repealed: so that the jurisdiction of the excise
was contracted. Resolutions were passed against
general warrants, and the seizure of papers.
Several regulations were made, favourable to
1
[ 78 ]
1
1
commerce. Still, however, the Ministers were
deemed unqualified for conducting the business
of Government. Their dismission from office
was accelerated by the Chancellor Northington.
They were endeavouring to form a constitution
for the recently conquered province of Canada.
Burke sketched a plan for this purpose. Being
shewn to the Chancellor, he condemned it in
the most explicit terms. Going to the King,
he represented the Ministers as totally inexpe-
rienced in business, and unfit for office. His
Majesty commissioned Northington to consult
Mr. Pitt on the formation of another ministry.
To that illustrious man the appointment was
principally left. Mr, Pitt would not admit any
advice from his former friends and associates,
or share in the arrangements of the cabinet; but
combined them according to the dictates of his
own will. Lord Temple, in particular, charged
him with having acted the part of an imperious
dictator, and refused the office of First Lord of
the Treasury. The Administration which Pitt
constituted, was made up of most heterogeneous
materials. From its members, he was said, by
his opponents, to expect and require very im.
plicit submission to his mandates. He himself,
now created Lord Chatham, took the Privy
Seal,
The Duke of Grafton was made First
Lord of the Treasury, and Charles Townshend
Chancellor of the Exchequer.
}
Burke wrote a defence of the Rockingham
1
[ 79 1
善
​Administration, in a plain, simple style, without
any of his usual digressive, though beautiful
*embellishments. His object is to appear a fair,
candid witness, when he is really a dexterous
advocate. In a seeming narration of the several
measures, he embodies inferences most favour-
able to his friends. Speaking of the principal
acts, he says:-
"In that space of time, the distractions of
the British empire were composed, by the re-
peal of the American stamp-act; but the con-
stitutional superiority of Great Britain was
preserved, by the act for securing the dependence of
the colonies.
"Private houses were relieved from the juris-
diction of the excise, by the repeal of the cider-tax.
The personal liberty of the subject was con-
firmed, by the resolution against general war-
·rants.
"The lawful secrets of business and friend-
ship were rendered inviolable, by the resolution
for condemning the seizure of papers."
X
- He proceeds to their other acts. Here we
may observe, that he merely takes for granted
the two leading points in dispute with the
Grenville party, on the one hand, and the Chat-
ham, on the other. Burke, in this defence, ré.
sembled a merchant, who, professing to give a
fair, impartial statement of contested accounts,
should take credit to himself for the principal
items in dispute. He very prudently satisfies
1
[80]
1
+434
"
himself, as to the two main articles, with mere
concise assertion, and reserves illustration and
enlargement for less questionable measures
His defence, if not an impartial discussion of po-
litical proceedings, is a very artful, plausible,
party memorial.
J
He soon after made an ironical reply to this
serious defence. This is in the form of a letter,
signed with the celebrated name of Whitting-
ton; the author professing to be a tallow-
chandler, and common-council-man, in Cat-
eaton-street, and, like his name-sake, to think
himself destined to be Lord Mayor before he
died. The letter is addressed to the Public
Advertiser. I shall make extracts, for the
perusal of such of my readers, as either have
not read, or have forgotten the Epistle of Whit
tington.
a
"In the multitude of counsellors there is safety.
If SOLOMON means privy-counsellors, this na..
tion ought to be safe beyond all others, since
none can boast such a variety of ministers, and
none can such a multitude of privy-counsel-
lors.
"Ministers, now-a-days, are pricked down for
the year, like sheriffs; and if none were to
make more of their offices than the last did, I
fancy we should see them fine off. Now you
can no more guess who is in office to-day, by
the court-kalendar of last year, than you can
[81
tell the present price of stocks by LLOYD's List
of Christmas 1745.
"But the main design of my taking pen in
hand, was to refute the silly author of a late
silly publication, called A short Account of a late
short Administration.
"This half-sheet accomptant shows his ill-
humour in the very title; he calls one year and
twenty days a short Administration; whereas I
can prove, by the Rule of Three Direct, that it is
as much as any Ministry in these times has a
right to expect.
"Since the happy accession of his present
Majesty, to this day, we have worn out no less
than five complete sets of honest, able, upright
Ministers, not to speak of the present, whom
whom G-d long preserve!
55
First, we had Mr. PITT's Administration ;
next, the Duke of NEWCASTLE'S; then, Lord
BUTE'S; then, Mr. GRENVILLE's; and, lastly,
my Lord ROCKINGHAM'S.
Tr
Now,Sir, if you take a bit of chalk, and reckon
from the seventh of October, 1760, to the thir-
tieth of July, 1766, you will find five years, nine
months, and thirty days! which, divided by
five, the total of Administrations gives exactly
one year and sixty days each, on an average, as
we say in the city, and one day more, if they
have the good fortune to serve in leap year."
The letter proceeds to a very humorous and
severe attack of Lord Chatham, and the Minis-
M
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વ
[82]
*
1
try which he had formed. It had very great
influence in lessening the popularity of that
stateman and his supporters.
!
Sir John Hawkins expressed to Johnson his
wonder that Burke procured a seat. Sir John
was not a man fitted to see extraordinary powers
and acquirements previous to their production
of fame and admiration. He knew Burke to be
a man of very uncommon talents, when all the
world joined in that opinion: Johnson, who had,
from the first meeting, penetrated into his in-
tellectual character, answered, that Burke would
soon be known to be the first man in the house,
as he would be in any society.
{
He was now well known in the fashionable
world, and as much liked for the pleasingness
of his address and conversation, as admired for
his genius and acquirements. He became the
intimate friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds, whose
house was the receptacle of genius, learning,
taste, and politeness. Mrs. Montague courted
his acquaintance. She was herself literary, and
had written an essay on Shakespeare, to which
Johnson, according to his biographer, did not
do justice. He condemned it as deficient in ge-
neral philosophical criticism; when it was in-
tended for a special object, merely to vindicate
Shakespeare from the misrepresentation of Vol-
taire, by shewing that his observations, how-
ever witty, were not justified by the writings of
our dramatic bard. It is rather a narrative of
[83]
facts, and refutation of false assertions, than an
investigation of principles; and was useful in
undeceiving those readers who judged from
what Voltaire said of Shakespeare, instead of
judging from Shakespeare himself. There are
gradations in criticism, as in other branches of
literature,from the verbal annotations of a gram-
marian to the investigation of a philosopher.
Many are the useful and agreeable performances,
which are far short of Burke's Sublime, Aristo-
tle's Rhetoric and Poetics, Johnson's Preface to
Shakespeare and Lives of the Poets. Mrs. Mon-
tague's essay has, besides, the merit of being
clearly and elegantly expressed; and shews that
its fair author had devoted much of her atten-
tion to literature and composition. Sir Joshua
Reynolds, and many other men of taste and let-
ters, highly esteemed Mrs. Montague, and even
Burke thought favourably of her literary talents.
Mrs. Montague and several other ladies, about
this time, had evening assemblies, in which, in-
stead of cards, they participated in the conveṛ-
sation of literary and ingenious men, One of
the most eminent members, when the societies
commenced, was Mr. Stillingfleet, who always
wore blue stockings. As his conversation was
very entertaining, they, when he was absent,
used to say, we can do nothing without the blue
stockings; and by degrees the assemblies were
called blue stocking clubs. From that time those
ladies, who are, or pretend to be, learned, or are
4x
*
N
1
4
[ 84 ]
in the fashionable circles supposed to be learned,
are called blue stockings.
?
Burke frequently mingled in these societies,
and was a great favourite, as his pleasing, unas-
suming manners, and apparent deference, made
them suppose that he thought them as great
scholars as they thought themselves. Johnson
also frequently attended, was generally not im-
polite, and seldom shocked them by flat contra-
dictions, or by exposing flimsy arguments. In
Scotland, about the same time, many ladies had
a similar pruriency to the conversation of lite-
rary men; but there, abstract divinity has the
most attractive charms of all species of know-
ledge. A lady, with this propensity, was one day
in company with Mr. Adam Ferguson, a Perth-
shire clergyman, of great strength of under,
standing and eminence in the church. The
lady, addressing herself to him, said, " Mr. Fer-
guson, I have dipt into predestinarian contro-
versy." Mr. Ferguson replied, "I must praise
your prudence, Madam, in having only dipt
into it, and recommend that mode in your other
theological studies."
Burke also became intimate with the highest
society in the political circles; besides the
Marquis of Rockingham, with the Duke of Port-
land, Mr. Dunning, Sir George Saville, and
many others. He was ever ambitious to con-
nect himself with men of high rank, though
from such HE could derive no lustre. He re,
tained his seat in the club, which had now in,
{
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1
[85]
creased its numbers.
The conversation of
Burke there, as every where else, shewed a man
much superior to ordinary scholars, whilst his
engaging manners prevented his intellectual su-
periority from being offensive. He exempli-
fied the perfect compatibility of the wisdom of
a philosopher with the urbanity and elegance
of a polished gentleman. He was no enemy to
that enlivener of social parties, wine. One even-
ing he observed that a hogshead of Claret, which
had been sent them as a present, was almost
out, and proposed that Johnson should write for
another, in such ambiguity of expression, as
might have a chance of procuring it also as a
gift. One of the company said Dr. Johnson shall
be our dictator. "Were I (said Johnson) your
dictator,you should have no wine; it would be my
business cavere nequid detrimentires publica caperet:
-wine is dangerous; Rome was ruined by lu-
xury.” Burke replied, " If you allow no wine as
dictator, you shall not have me for master of the
horse." Johnson, although he attributed every
high species of intellectual excellence to Burke,
would not allow that he possessed wit. From
his speeches and writings, I trust I shall be able
to shew many instances of wit, according to
Johnson's definition of that term, which agrees
with its received acceptation: "A combination
of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult re-
semblances in things apparently unlike." At
the same time, although it may appear from
!
1
[86]
}
Burke's works, that he abounded in wit much
more than ordinary writers and speakers, yet
the proportion of that quality in his mind to his
other qualities, was less than in many inferior
minds. He was endued with a quick and deli-
cate perception of humour and ridicule, and
could paint with the happiest effect. His hu,
mour was versatile, either playful or sarcasti-
cal, poignant or strong, as best suited his pur-
pose. He most frequently cut with a razor;
but could fell with a hatchet; and not rarely
united the keenness of the one with the force of
the other.
That portion of his reply, which I have lately
quoted, is a very sarcastic picture of the un-
settled state of the executive government, and
the fluctuation of counsels during the first part
of the present reign. The following passage,
from the same letter, concerning Lord Chatham
and his new Ministry, is also very humorous:
"He has, once more, deigned to take the reins
of government in his own hand, and will, no
doubt, drive with his wonted speed, and raise
a deal of dust around him. His horses are all
matched to his mind; but as some of them are
young and skittish, it is said he has adopted
the new contrivance lately exhibited by Sir
FRANCIS DELAVAL on Westminster Bridge;
whenever they begin to snort and toss up their
heads, he touches the spring, throws them loose,
and away they go, leaving his Lordship safe
भू
*
[ 87 ]
and snug, and as much at ease, as if he sat on
a wool-pack."
Although a friend to an aristocracy of pro-
perty, talents, and virtue, he was not a very
profound admirer of the nobility, not conceiving
them eminent for the two last. Speaking one
day on the debauchery of high life and its con-
sequences: "It is no wonder (he said) the issue
of the marriage-bed should be puny and dege.
nerate, when children are formed out of the
rinsing of bottles."
The influence of Lord Chatham,. even with
the Ministry of his own choice, was of no long
continuance. A want of union among Mini-
stry was apparent during the succeeding ses-
sion. It was a great, an irreparable misfortune
to the country, that there was not a good un-
derstanding between the Earl of Chatham and
the Rockingham party; between the favourite
of the people and the Whig aristocracy, be-
tween the personal authority and the combined
powers of the friends of freedom. Lord Chat-
ham soon perceived that there was an influence
behind the throne which counteracted his ex-
ertions. He made overtures to a coalition with
the Rockingham party; which might have been
effectual sooner, but were then too late. Lord
Rockingham conceiving Lord Chatham to have
been instrumental in the dismission of him and
his friends, (a dismission really arising from
their own precipitate acceptance of office with-.
out sufficient force to controul the cabal) re-
+
i
}
1
1.88]
+
A
fused to have any intercourse with him. Private
resentment appears here to have predominated
over public spirit, most unfortunately for the
nation. Talents, property, and patriotism, if
conjoined, might have overturned favouritism;
especially as the system of favouritism had then
neither a large proportion of splendid talents for
its supporters, nor of GREAT PROPRIETORS for its
DUPES. Burke, however, and the other friends
of the Marquis, in the early part of the succeed-
ing Administration, were not very violent in
their opposition. Lord Chatham was thwarted
chiefly by the interior cabinet. Measures be-
lieved to originate from favouritism were pro-
posed by Mr. Charles Townshend, which blew
the discontents of America into a violent flame.
Instead of the mode of internal taxation pro-
posed by the stamp act, and afterwards dis-
continued by its repeal, an external was adopted:
-a tax was laid on various articles of the import
trade of America. The principle of this new
act was reprobated through the colonies. It
was represented as a branch of the same plan
of taxing America without its own consent.
Its operation was violently opposed, and even
successfully obstructed. The officers appoint-
ed to collect the new imposts were beaten and
abused. In parliament, the succeeding session,
the party of which Burke was a member, on
the address in answer to his Majesty's speech,
reprobated the measures of Administration re-
1
[89]
}
t
specting the colonies. Burke made an oration
on the subject; the tenor of which was to prově
that the late resolutions were ill-timed and in-
expedient, and the means employed for their
execution unwise and ineffectual. In this
Speech he took occasion to direct his elo-
quence against the secret influence of which he
alledged Ministry to be the tools, Of the inte-
rior cabinet, a main object, he said, was to sepa-
raté friend from friend, party from party, that
public men might the more easily be rendered
subservient to the CABAL. This speech contain-
ed many of the heads of the subsequent essay
on the Causes of the Discontents."
+
Lord Chatham, finding that Ministry were
proceeding in a plan totally opposite to his opi-
nion, and under a direction which he deemed
ruinous to the country, having, in spite of age
and ill health, made every effort that patriotism
could prompt, to give things a contrary bias, and
finding his exertions vain, resigned in disgust.
The magnanimous, patriotic mind of the
great Pitt would not descend to receive ther
mandates of court favourites; to truckle to
men whom he despised. This was an indepen-
dence of mind not always the concomitant even
of conscious genius.
At the close of this session parliament was
dissolved. Burke, who had been only two years
a member, was already considered as the first
orator in the house, at a time when there was
}
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[90]
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​+
A
in it a very splendid assemblage of talents.
His orations at first were more tinctured with
the metaphisical learning which had occupied
a great part of his early life, than is to be per-
*ceived in the speeches of more mature, moral
and political experience. His was the eloquence
of a very great mind, accustomed to generaliza-
tion; but became afterwards more marked by
practical wisdom.
Burke was re-elected for Wendover.
new parliament met in November, 1768.
The
An act passed during this session which ex-
cited great disturbances in and out of parlia-
ment. This was the famous expulsion of
Wilkes, and the consequent proceedings.
Wilkes, when the Ministers who had perse-
cuted him were dismissed from office, and the
Marquis of Rockingham was appointed, had
returned to London. The Marquis and his
friends, whatever might be their opinion of his
private character, had strongly expressed their
disapprobation of his unjust treatment. From
them Wilkes hoped for compassion for his suf-
ferings, and redress for the injuries which he
had received. To fortify his cause by private
influence, he prevailed on Mr. Macleane, an in-
timate friend of Burke, to second him in ap-
plying to that gentleman. Burke acquainted
him, from the Marquis, that he was disposed to
serve him, but would not pledge himself to
any
specific mode. Wilkes conceived that, as the
+
!
[91]
Minister courted popularity, he, having been
so strenuous in a popular cause, might com-
mand his own terms. He accordingly demand-
ed a general pardon, five thousand pounds in
cash, and a pension on the Irish establishment.
Burke refused to carry so presumptuous a re-
quisition to his patron; nor would any other
person make so extravagant an application.
Disappointed by his own confident folly,
and not being able to procure the reversal of
his outlawry, Wilkes was obliged to return to
exile. When the Duke of Grafton became
Prime Minister, he wrote him to the following
purport:*" He congratulated the country on
the promotion of his Grace, and intreated him
to mediate his pardon from the King; declar-
ing, that he had never, in any moment of his
life, swerved from the duty and allegiance he
owed to his Sovereign, and professing in every
thing to submit to his Majesty's clemency.
Your Grace's noble manner of thinking (says
he), and the obligations I have formerly re-
ceived, which are still fresh in my mind, will,
I hope, give a full propriety to this address i.
and I am sure, a heart glowing with the sacred
zeal of liberty must have a favourable reception
from the Duke of Grafton."
2
This application was neglected. Mr. Wilkes's
*Belsham's Memoirs of George III. vol. i. p. 233,
&
1
1
[92]
hope of pardon being extinguished, he resolved
to make his enemies feel his resentment. At
the present 'crisis, the conduct of the Court
appeared wholly unaccountable. There was
plainly no just medium between the opposite
determinations of rigour and lenity. If the
former were adopted, by putting into imme-
diate execution the sentence of outlawry, his
projects of revenge and ambition would have
been easily and completely defeated. If, on
the contrary, the wiser and more generous plan
of lenity were preferred, a full and free pardon
ought to have been granted: with his persecu-
tion, his influence and popularity would have
ceased. To halt between the two opinions was
an infallible proof of weakness in the cabinet
counsels.
}
On the dissolution of parliament Wilkes came
from Paris to London, to offer himself a can-
didate for the city. He was received with rap-
turous applause by the people; but rejected on
the poll, through Harley, the Lord Mayor, a
strenuous supporter of the Court. The magis-
trate was grossly insulted by the populace.
Wilkes immediately offered for Middlesex,
Supported not only by the lower people, but
by men of the first opulence in the city, and
men of the first talents at the bar and in the
senate, he was returned by a very great
majority. Soon after he surrendered himself
to the jurisdiction of the King's Bench,
44
[va
[ ]
}
92A sentence was passed condemning him to
imprisonment for two years; to pay a fine of
a thousand pounds, and to find security for his
good behaviour for seven years. The people,
enraged at this sentence, which an arbitrary al-
´teration of records made still more hateful, for-
cibly rescued him from the officers who were
taking him to prison, and made a triumphant
procession with him through the city. As soon
as the multitude dispersed he surrendered him-
self to the Marshal of the Bench. The day of
the first meeting of the new parliament, num-
bers assembled in St. George's Fields, expect.
ing to see Wilkes go from the place of his con-
finement to the House of Commons. As they
became very riotous, the Surrey magistrates
were obliged to interfere, and at last to call the
military. The mob abused and attacked the
soldiers; they being ordered to fire, unfortu-
nately killed an innocent man. Government
expressed the highest approbation of the justices
and the troops, in a letter from Lord Weymouth,
Secretary of State, to the Surrey Magistrates.
A copy of this letter was procured by Wilkes,
who published it, with a very severe and violent
prefatory attack. Parliament, meeting, voted
this preface an insolent, scandalous, and sedi-
tious libel. Wilkes, avowing himself the author,
was expelled the house. On a new election he
was again, unanimously chosen. The house then
[94]
declared, that Mr. Wilkes, being expelled, was
incapable of sitting in the same parliament;
and that, therefore, the election was void. He
was chosen a third time, and the third election
declared void. At the fourth Col. Luttrel stood
candidate. For Wilkes there were twelve hun-
dred and forty-three, for Luttrel two hundred
and ninety-six. Wilkes was returned, but his
name was erased from the writ by order of the
house, and Luttrel's substituted in its place.
Some of our readers may have forgotten the series
of proceedings concerning this noted demagogue.
Besides their general importance in the questions
they involved, and the very great political and
literary exertions on both sides which they ex-
cited, they have a special importance to a bio-
grapher of Burke. They more fully unfolded
the powers of his eloquence in the house than
had been hitherto done; and from the closet
they called forward the most able, comprehen-
sive, and profound account of the political state
of the country. I have, therefore, thought this
summary concerning Wilkes not irrelative to
the subject of my work.
Opposition consisted of two parties of very
different views and principles, though agreed
in their disapprobation of the Grafton Ministry:
-the party of which Lord Rockingham was the
nominal leader, and Burke the most distin-
guished orator; and that of which Mr. Grens
ville was the head,
[95]
A
The author of the Memoirs of Mr. Burke
draws the following character of Grenville's and
of Burke's eloquence. "Mr. Burke's eloquence
was splendid, copious, and animated; some-
times addressing itself to the passions, much
oftener to the fancy; but very seldom to the under-
standing. It seemed fitter for shew than debate;
for the school than the senate; and was calcu-
lated rather to excite applause than to produce
conviction, Mr. Grenville's was plain, yet cor-
rect; manly, argumentative, trusting more to
genuine candour, to the energy of reason, and
the well displayed evidence of truth, than to
the rainbow colours of fine imagery, or the blaze
of artificial declamation. Mr. Burke, naturally
ardent and impetuous, took fire at the smallest
collision; and the sudden bursts of his anger, or
his vehemence, when all around him was calm,
could only be compared to the rant of intoxica-
tion in the presence of a sober and dispassionate
company: Mr. Grenville, even when attacked
with the utmost asperity, shewed a perfect com-
mand of temper."
Coinciding in some parts of this opinion, I
by no means accede to all. I am far from
thinking that Burke addresses himself very sel-
dom to the understanding. To me his speeches
appear to have, besides their imagery, a greater
abundance and variety of knowledge, more
forcible reasoning and more enlarged philoso-
phy, than those of Mr. Grenville, or almost
>
[96]
any orator of any age or country. So far froni
seldom addressing the understanding, I think
he commonly directed to it more of argument,
and of general principle, than the mere subject
required; or, perhaps, some of the audience
could comprehend. His presents to intellect,
so far from being scanty, are too often profuse,
and more valuable than necessary for the pur-
pose: where a moderate sum of silver would
suffice, he lavishes heaps of gold. For parlia-
mentary business, however, I agree with the
author, in thinking the clear,, sound under-
standing, senatorial experience, and steady
temper of Grenville, fitter than the brilliant
fancy, philosophical expansion, and impetuous
passions of Burke. Such a mind, and such ha-
bits, as Grenville's, rendered him as much fitter
for being the leader of a party, a prime mini-
ster, a conductor of affairs, as the mind and ha-
bits of Burke rendered him for being a poet, an
historian, a philosopher.
About this time two pamphlets appeared j
the first intituled The present State of the Nation;
written either by Grenville, or under his direc-
tion; the second, intituled Observations on the
present State of the Nation, by Burke. Gren-
ville's pamphlet goes over the war, the peace,
the finances, trade, foreign politics, and the
constitution, with a view to shew the country
1
1
[ 97 ]
to be in a very bad state, and its situation to be
owing to a deviation from the plan of politics,
especially of finance, adopted by the Grenville
Ministry.
Mr. Grenville goes through a vast variety of
detail, on our trade, revenue, colonies, and pu
blic funds. He accompanies his account with
very long, minute, and intricate calculations.
He endeavours to shew, that we are in a much
inferior situation to France, whose state he de-
tails with equal minuteness, and equally confi-
dent assertion of exactness. America was,
he attempts to prove, in so flourishing a condi-
tion, as to be able, with great ease, to supply
the deficiency of Britain. To this great source
of finance he subjoins several smaller, from
Ireland, India, and other settlements. By an
adoption only of the Grenville plans in general,
and respecting America in particular, was this
country to be saved.
Burke, considering the State of the Nation as in
itself erroneous, calculated to diffuse unfounded
alarms, and as implying censure on the Mar-
quis of Rockingham, answered it in what he
intituled his Observations. He shewed, that
when a man of genius encounters a man of de-
tail in the fields of literature, he can, with
great ease, drive him from his own ground.
The man of genius can, without any great ef-
fort of industry, master the details which con-
stitute the strong-holds of his adversary. Burke
[98]
A
here demonstrates the vast extent and particu-
larity of his commercial and political know-
ledge. He follows Grenville over the wide
ground he had taken; proves him to be wrong
in his alledged facts and calculations, and con-
sequently in his inferences. He enters into a
detail of our manufactures and trade,-internal,
with our own colonies and settlements, and with
foreign countries; describes its actual state, and
the various circumstances which may affect it
in future. He takes a review of our revenue
and public funds. He next proceeds to the
resources, debt, and expenditure of France,
and by an accurate statement of facts, and the
clearest calculations, shews Grenville's asser-
tion respecting the superiority of our rival to
be unfounded. He denies an increase of reve-
nue to be practicable from Ireland. Respect.
ing both Ireland and America, he proves the
absurdity of expecting a revenue from a de-
tached and distant part of the empire, merely
because he supposes it able to bear taxation.
Here he gives the outlines of Mr. Grenville's
financial character. "It is (says he) the con-
stant custom of this author, in all his writings,
to take it for granted, that he has given you a
revenue, whenever he can point out to you
where you may have money, if you can contrive
how to get at it; and this seems to be the mas-
ter-piece of his financial ability." Mr. Gren-
ville had proposed two hundred thousand
1
[99]
year to be levied from the Americans.
"He
is (says he) satisfied to repeat gravely, as he
has done a hundred times before, that the Ame-
ricans are able to pay it. Well, and what then?
Does he lay open any part of his plan how they
may be compelled to pay it, without plunging
ourselves into calamities that outweigh ten-fold
the proposed benefit? or does he shew how
they may be induced to submit to it quietly ? or
does he give any satisfaction concerning the
mode of levying it?" He ridicules and ex-
poses the folly of expecting any other revenue
from our settlements in India, than what results
from duties on the trade from that country,
and from the lease of the monopoly according
to the charter. More advanced in political
wisdom than when he advised a law declaratory
of a right, without any practical benefit, he
leaves barren generalities for expediency. "To
talk (says he) of the rights of sovereignty is
quite idle; different establishments supply dif.
ferent modes of public contribution. Our
trading companies, as well as individual import-
ers, are a fit subject of revenue by customs.
Some establishments pay us by a monopoly of
their consumption and their produce. This,
nominally no tax, in reality comprehends all
taxes. Such establishments are our colonies.
To tax them, would be as erroneous in policy
as rigorous in equity. Ireland supplies us by
furnishing troops in war, and by bearing part
1
1
1
[
ioo I-
of our foreign establishment in peace. She
aids us at all times by the money that her ab-
sentees spend amongst us; which is no small
part of the rental of that kingdom. Thus Ire-
land contributes her part. Some objects bear
port duties; some are fitter for an inland ex-
cise. The mode varies; the object is the same.
To strain these from their old and inveterate
leanings, might impair the old benefit, and not
answer the end of the new project Among all
the great men of antiquity, Procrustes shall never
be my hero of legislation; with his iron bed,
the allegory of his government, and the type of
some modern policy, by which the long limb
was to be cut short, and the short tortured into
length. Such was the state-bed of uniformity!
He would, I conceive, be a very indifferent
farmer, who complained that his sheep did not
plough, or his horses yield him wool; though
it would be an idea full of equality. They may
think this right in rustic economy, who think
it available in the politic;
Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina Mævi !
Atque idem jungat vulpes, et mulgeat hircos.”
1
He proceeds to an attack upon the Grenville
Administration, which, though somewhat ex-
aggerated, is in many respects just; vindi-
cates the Rockingham Ministry, not without
evident partiality; makes a very high pa
negyric on his patron, and the connections of
7
[101]
1
>
the party; and animadverts, with cutting seve.
rity, on their successors in office.
There is one excellence which I shall have
occasion frequently to remark in the writings
and speeches of Burke. They abound in the
wisest general observations, descriptions of man-
kind, and lessons of conduct. This essay contains
a very striking picture of political profligacy, in
its progress and consequences. "There is
something (he says) uncertain on the confines
of the two empires which they first pass through,
and which renders the change easy and imper-
ceptible. There are even a sort of splendid
impositions, so well contrived, that, at the very
time the path of rectitude is quitted for ever,
men seem advancing into some nobler road of
public conduct. Not that such impositions are
strong enough in themselves, but a POWERFUL
INTEREST, often concealed from those whom it
affects, works at the bottom, and secures the
operation. Men are thus debauched away from
their legitimate connections-gradually they
are habituated to other company. Certain per-
sons are no longer frightful when they come to
be serviceable. As to their OLD FRIENDS, the
transition is easy-from friendship to civility;
from civility to enmity: few are the steps from
dereliction to perseculion.'
The nomination of Luttrel involved in it a
totally different question from the expulsion
of Wilkes. The expulsion was a question of
[102]
R
'
individual conduct; the nomination of consti-
tutional right—whether, by the laws of the land,
expulsion constituted disqualification. Burke
made a most masterly speech on this subject,
contending, and indeed proving, that there
was neither statute nor applicable precedent
resting the incapacitation of persons to be
members of parliament in any thing but an
act of the legislature. The substance of this
speech is published only in the Parliamentary
Debates. In the state in which they give it, it
displays a most extensive and accurate acquain-
tance with parliamentary history and cases, and
the soundest notions of political expediency.
This session American affairs afforded Burke
a subject for the exhibition of his eloquence and
wisdom. It was proposed by Ministry to re-
vive the satute of Henry VIII, by which the King
is empowered to appoint a commission in Eng-
land for the trial of treason committed beyond
seas. Against this proposed revival Burkę
directed the force of his powers,
The plan
of bringing delinquents from the province of
Massachusets to England, to be tried, was, he
contended, in its principle inconsistent with the
law of England. In this country, a man charg-
ed with a crime is tried near the place where
it is alledged to have been committed; that, if
innocent, he may have the means of acquittal.
It was iniquitous in its operation. By taking
the accused to an immense distance from his
}
[ 108 ]
*
friends and business, it rendered it impossible,
unless to men of great opulence, to endure the
expence of bringing the evidence necessary to
vindication. The judges, who were to be of the
mother country, would be persons against
whom the accused was supposed to have trans-
gressed; the prosecution, in effect, would be
condemnation, and so the great purposes of
justice entirely defeated. Even if the mode
proposed, were just, it would be attended with
such difficulty of execution as would, in every
prudential view, amount to impracticability.
The attempt would irritate the colonies, whilst
its inefficacy would not restrain dangerous
practices. Unfortunately, experience confirmed
the anticipation of sagacity,-the proposal ex-
asperated the Americans, the plan afforded ro
obstruction to their disorders.
Whilst those measures of the House of Com-
mons, respecting the colonies, which Burke, op-
posed, were causing disturbances in America,
the proceedings respecting Wilkes were excit-
ing discontents at home. They were considered
as a gross violation of the rights of election.
An alarm for the constitution was spread; an
alarm much beyond its cause; since, admitting
one unconstitutional assumption of power to
have taken place, it did not follow, from a par-
ticular fact, that a general system was endan-
gered.
Dr. Johnson's "False Alarm" endeavours
1
'
I
[104]
to prove that the power of disqualification of
expelled members was necessary to the House
of Commons, as expulsion, with re-eligibility,
would be a nominal not a real punishment.
But the question was not what power it might
be expedient that the House of Commons should
possess, but what powers from statute or cust
tom it actually did possess. To his arguments
on expediency it might be replied, the house
could have repeatedly expelled Wilkes if they
thought him still to deserve expulsion.—If
they could prove it to be expedient that ex-
pulsion should constitute disqualification, let a
bill to that effect be moved; and if approved
of by the other branches of the legislature,
passed into a law. Dr. Johnson, aware that
expediency alone would not support his posi.
tion, attempts to adduce precedents, but fails
in their application. It is to be observed here,
that Burke, and many others, who opposed the
return of Colonel Luttrel, strongly disapprov.
ed of many parts of Mr. Wilkes's conduct as
morally profligate and politically seditious.
The proceedings of the Grafton Administra-
tion respecting Wilkes, and other subjects,
gave rise to the celebrated Letters of Junius.
These compositions, in clearness, neatness, pre-
cision of style, in such arrangement and ex-
pression as give the materials fully the desired
effect, have few equals among political publica-
tions. Unclaimed by any, they have been ascribed
[105]
*
J
to several authors, among others to Burke.
Most of the writers against Junius, in the pe-
riodical publications of the times, address him
as an Irishman; and at the same time endea-
vour to reproach Burke for being of that nation.
One of them, Antimalagrida, in abusing the
Marquis of Rockingham, makes one article of
his invective, that he was guided by an Irish Se-
cretary. Some of Burke's friends supposed him
the author, as the only man equal to the perfor
mance. On that ground Johnson, according to
Boswell, once thought him the writer; but on
his spontaneously declaring the contrary, was
convinced by his assertion. "I should (he said)
have believed Burke to be Junius, because I
know no man but Burke who is capable of writ
ing these letters; but Burke spontaneously de.
nied it to me: the case would have been diffe-
rent had I asked him if he was the author, a
man may think he has a right to deny it, when
so questioned as to an anonymous publication."
Even spontaneous disavowal of a performance,
by many imputed to him, and of which the sup-
position of his being the writer might have ex-
posed him to prosecution, is not a disproof. As
there is no testimony to prove, either who was the
writer, or that Burke was not, our opinion must
be formed from probability. Those who im-
pute the Letters of Junius to Burke may proba-
bly reason in some such manner as the follow-
[106]
•
દ
ing:-They are evidently the production of very
considerable talents. There were very few
writers of the times equal to the task. They
must have been written by a person inimical to
the Grafton Administration, and to the secret
influence by which it was believed to be now
guided. In the general opinion, and in the par-
ticular circumstances of Burke, we can find pro-
bable motives which might have induced him
to commence and continue the attack. The
Duke of Grafton had been brought into admi-
nistration by the Rockingham party, and was re-
presented as having betrayed that nobleman and
his friends: either, on that account, or be-
cause he succeeded to the Ministry, he was very
obnoxious to the friends of the Marquis. Hence
it was natural to impute a severe attack on him
to one of that party, in which the pre-eminence
of genius unquestionably belonged to Burke.
He, in the house, poured forth his eloquence
in attacks upon the Grafton Administration in
general, and more particularly on those of its
acts which are the principal butts of Junius's
invective. Burke strenuously maintained the
existence of a system of court-favouritism, and
joined in ascribing to its influence the dismis
sion of his friends He reprobated the mea-
şures which he supposed to originate from that
source, and the principal agents of the junto.
Hence it was very probable that the Duke of
Bedford, the negociator of Lord Bute's peace and
:
A
[107]
f
the opposer of the Rockingham interest, should
excite the displeasure of Burke. The Whig
party considered the doctrines advanced by the
Lord Chief Justice on the bench as inconsistent
with constitutional liberty, and as a branch of
the same Tory or rather Jacobite origin: Burke,
in the House of Commons, frequently displayed
his eloquence against the doctrines and prac-
tices of Lord Mansfield. He particularly exe
crated the proceedings respecting the Middle-
sex election. In all these circumstances he co-
incided with Junius. In considering the intel-
lect of Junius, it was very easy to see that not
many of that, or of any other party were equal
to the letters. In all there is closeness and pun-
gency, but in some there is richness of classical
allusion, and fertility of imagery. The image-
ry, besides, frequently resembles that for which
Burke's writings are so eminently distinguished.
In one of his letters to the Duke of Grafton,
Junius borrows metaphors from a source very
usual with the orator: Lord Bute's views and
situation `required. a creature void of all these
properties; (abilities, judgment, and integrity)
and he was forced to go through every division,
resolution, composition, and refinement of poli-
tical chemistry, before he happily arrived at the
caput: mortuum of vitriol in your Grace, Flat
and insipid in your retired state, but brought
into action, you became vitriol again." After-
wards," but you have discovered your pur
1
A
1
,
1
*
[108]
A
1
1
poses too soon; and instead of the modest re-
serve of virtue, have shewn us the termagant
chastity of a prude, who gratifies her passions
with distinction, and prosecutes one lover for a
rape, whilst she solicits the rude embraces of
another." The rapidity of Burke's genius often
hurries him into a mixture of figures. This toa
is frequently the case with Junius: thus in a
letter to the Duke of Grafton," with what
countenance can you take your seat at the
Treasury Board, or in Council, when you feel
that every circulating WHISPER is at your expence
alone, and STABS you to the heart!”
From both the reasoning and style of some
of Junius's letters, many think there are grounds
for believing Burke to be the author.
Those, on the other hand, who conceive him,
not to have been Junius, may probably reason
in the following manner:-On considering the
intellectual qualities of Burke and of Junius, it
would appear that there is so great a dissimila-
rity between the one and the other, as to justify
us in disbelieving Burke to be the writer. As
to the intellectual character of Junius, although
we must allow it very considerable excellence,
we may easily perceive that it is of a different
kind and inferior degree to Edmund Burke.
In Junius we have more of perspicacity than of
expansion; more of pungency than of force.
His weapon is the sharp arrow of Teucer, not
the massy sword of Achilles. He rapidly pe-
་
[109]
netrates into particulars, but does not rise to
great general views. He is rather an expert
lawyer, speaking closely to his own side, than a
philosophical politician, embracing the interests
of kingdoms and of mankind. Whatever Burke
has spoken, or avowedly written, goes beyond
the mere object of the hour, and makes accu-
racy of detail and acuteness of reasoning sub-
servient to the establishment or confirmation of
some general truth. Junius keeps directly to
his subject the rapidly associating mind of
Burke pursues his thoughts through a train of
combinations, not always necessary to the spe-
cific object, though always pleasing, interesting,
or instructing. Junius is thoroughly acquainted
with the road in which he chuses to steer, but
attends little to its bearings, any farther than
they are necessary for piloting his bark: Burke
surveys the whole coast. In Junius there is neat-
ness and justness of allusion: in Burke, rich.
ness, beauty, and grandeur of imagery. The
style of Junius is clear, correct, and precise,
with no great variety: the style of Burke co-
pious, brilliant, forcible, with wonderful variety,
appropriate to the diversity of subjects and ob-
jects. Either Burke did not write Junius's Let-
ters, or wrote very differently from his general
manner; and employed a strict, watchful, and
uniform attention for which we can assign no:
adequate motive in restraining his intellectual
f
[110]
powers from their usual exertions and expati.
ations.
**
Besides these general reasons of intellectual
character, which contravene the belief that Burke
is the author, there are special reasons from his
opinions. Burke had been a member of the
Rockingham Administration, and was the sup-
porter of that party, its principles and measures:
there are passages in Junius which shew the
author to be neither. In a letter to the Duke
of Bedford, he says, "Apparently united with
Mr, Grenville, you waited until Lord Rocking-
ham's Administration should dissolve in its own
weakness." These were not the sentiments of
Burke respecting the adniinistration of his
friend and patron. Again, in a letter to Mr.
Horne Tooke, speaking of Lord Chathain:
"He has publicly declared himself a convert
to triennial parliaments; and, though I have
long been convinced that this is the only pos-
sible resource we have left for preserving
the substantial freedom of the constitution, I
do not think we have a right to determine
against the integrity of Lord Rockingham or
his friends. Other measures may undoubtedly.
be supported by: argument, as better adapted to
the disorder or more likely to be obtained."
Burke, it is well known to every man acquaint-
ed with parliamentary history, was uniformly
averse to triennial parliaments. One of the
letters disapproves of the opposition made to
}
A
[111]
*
V
Mr. Grenville's laws respecting America: Burke
always approved of that opposition, and was
the constant opponent of American taxation.
Were I to hazard an opinion on the subject, it
would be, that Burke was not most frequently
the writer of Junius's letters, if he was of any.
Though very excellent, they are not equal, nor
peculiarly similar, to his productions. They
have been imputed to Lord George Germain, but
I cannot accede to that opinion. Lord George
is close and correct; in those qualities he re
sembles Junius: he does not abound in point
and imagery; and in those qualities does not
resemble Junius. I think Lord George Ger-
main not, Junius, because inferior to the latter;
Burke, because superior.
The letters resemble the pungency and keen
satire of Richard Burke more than the wisdom
of Edmund. Richard, besides, was a man of
a dissipated life, and consequently more likely
to be acquainted with the history of ministerial
gallantries, which occupy no small portion of
Junius's animadversions. In all this, however,
there is hitherto no certainty. The time may
arrive when the mystery will be unfolded.
The discovery of this hidden champion of anti-
ministerial politics may be, perhaps, in the
power of a very eminent politician, still alive,
and the first philological philosopher of the
age.
As the ministry were very unpopular, Junius
1
T
"
[112]
1
reigned paramount over all political writings
for two years. It has been said that the very
forcible attack of Junius by Johnson in his
"Falkland Island," so completely overthrew the
popular champion, that he never resumed the
fight. Though inferior to Johnson, it is not
likely Junius would have been frightened from
the field, even by that formidable opponent;
especially as he fought under a mask, and could
watch his own time and opportunity. In fact,
Junius wrote for a year after the publication
of "Falkland Island." That pamphlet was
brought out in spring 1771, and immediately
attracted the notice of all parties; and Junius
did not discontinue his warfare till spring 1772,
and some of the boldest of his letters to Lord
Mansfield and the Duke of Grafton were writ-
ten towards the close of 1771. It is more pro-
bable, that as the principal object of his attacks
(the Duke of Grafton) had retired from office,
the Duke of Bedford was dead, and all said of
the Middlesex election that could be said, Ju-
nius gave over his writings when their object
no longer existed.
Burke had now gotten a very pleasant villa
near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire. Various
accounts have been given of his fortune at the
time this purchase was made. The most ge-
neral and best authenticated was, that the Mar-
quis of Rockingham advanced ten thousand
pounds on a simple bond, never intended to
r
[113]
be reclaimed that Dr. Saunders of Spring
Gardens advanced five thousand, secured by a
mortgage It is certain that at Dr. Saunders's
death, a mortgage on Burke's estate was found
by the executor for that sum, and that the prin-
cipal was considerably increased by arrears of
interest. The whole price was twenty-three
thousand pounds. It had been said, that Burke,
his brother Richard, and Mr. William Burke,
were very successful speculators in the funds.
Edmund afterwards, as I shall shew, proved
that he was totally unconcerned in any such
transaction How the remaining eight thou-
sand pounds were procured I have not been
able to ascertain. As one of the freeholders
of Buckinghamshire, he drew up à petition con-
cerning the Middlesex election, and praying for
a new parliament. The petition was adopted
by the county meeting, and presented by him
and some other freeholders of note. I shall
transcribe the material parts, as it shews, in a
few words, both the sentiments of Burke re-
specting the specific subject, and the compre-
hensive view he takes of political causes and
effects.
""
By the fundamental principles of the constitu-
tion, all the electors of Great Britain have an un-
doubted right to elect, by a majority of legal votes,
any man not rendered incapable by the law of the
land. We are thoroughly sensible that the House of
+
[114]
Commons may also judicially determine on the elec
tion of members of their own body; but the law of the
land cannot be superseded by any resolution of either
house of parliament, no new incapacity can be enact-
ed except by the authority of the legislature. The
claim of either house of parliament to make ordi-
nances which should have the force of laws, hath
once already proved fatal to the crown and to the
constitution, and will, we fear, if the exercise of it
be tolerated, prove again destructive to both, (after
mentioning the election of Colonel Luttrel).
Justly alarmed at an attempt of this formidable na.
ture, duty to our Sovereign, and to our injured
country, calls upon us to represent, with all possible
respect, the fatal consequences with which this vio-
lation of the rights of free election must be attended,
and we earnestly implore the intervention of your
Majesty's wisdom and goodness to afford, by legal
and constitutional methods, the means for removing
this unexampled grievance."
1
This petition, though explicit and firm, is
temperate and decorous. The petition from
Yorkshire, drawn up by Burke's friend, Sir
George Saville, was in a similar style. Some
were presented of a very different nature, bę
ing in the style of imperious remonstrances and
licentious abuse; among the rest, that from the
Livery of London, as unlike the one supported
by Burke, as the principles of a turbulent DE-
MOCRAT are to those of a moderate constitu
tional WHIG.
[115]
"
1
The political opinions and principles of
Burke were about this time published at con-
siderable length, in a pamphlet intituled
"Thoughts on the Causes of the Present Dis-
contents."
Burke's "Thoughts on the Discontents" de-
serves the studious perusal of the politician, as
it marks with great impartiality the state of
the public mind at that period, and its causes,
in the condition of the country, and the con-
duct of the Court. It calls for the peculiar at-
tention of the biographer, as a land-mark of
Burke's own sentiments respecting the British
Government, and the means of carrying it into
the most successful effect.
The fact, that discontents had existed during
a great part of the present reign, and that they
had risen to an alarming height, being very ob.
vious, and denied by none, Burke presumes it to
be generally admitted: he proceeds, therefore,
to the cause. Courtiers ascribed the prevail-
ing dissatisfaction to the seditious wickedness
of libellers, and other demagogues; causes
which have very frequently produced ground-
less discontents, but not always. According to
the court party, affairs had been managed with
consummate wisdom and remarkable modera-
tion; if the character these persons gave of
themselves were just, then there certainly could
be no foundation for the discontents. The pre-
mises, however, Burke does not admit: he con-
.
*
t
I
[116]
tends, that there were strong grounds for dis-
satisfaction. The various acts of Administration
he deduces from a system of making every part
of government depend upon a junto of court
favourites. "To secure (he says) to the Court the
unlimited and uncontrouled use of its own vat in-
fluence, under the sole direction of its own private
favour, has been for some years the great object
of policy. If this were compassed, the influence
of the Crown must of course produce all the ef
fects which the most sanguine partizans of the
Court could possibly desire. Government might
then be carried on without any concurrence on
the part of the people,-without any attention
to the dignity of the greater, or to the affections
of the lower sorts." To this plan of making
every part of government dependent on a junta
of court favourites he attributes the various
evils of that time. This court junto he calls a
double cabinet,
Having, in the passage I have qupted, de-
scribed its object, he proceeds to the means:
"These were, to draw a line which should sepa-
rate the Court from the Ministry." 1o render the
ostensible Ministers merely the agents of a fa
vourite junto. "By this operation, two systems
of administration were to be formed; one,
which should be in the real secret and confi-
dence; the other, merely ostensible, to perform
the official and executory duties of Government,
[117]
璺
​The latter were alone to be responsible; whilst
the real advisers, who enjoyed all the power,
were effectually removed from all the dan-
ger.
"Secondly, A party under these leaders was
to be formed in favour of the Court against the Mi-
·nistry.”
:
<<
Thirdly, Parliament was to be brought to
acquiesce in this project. It was to be taught
by degrees á total indifference to the persons,
'rank, influence, abilities, connections, and cha-
racter of the Minister of the Crown. A cabal
of the closet and back-stairs was substituted in
'the place of a-national administration."
He proceeds to the progress, success, and
consequences of favouritism, and very eloquent-
ly shews its hurtfulness to a free government.
"A PLAN OF FAVOURITISM for our executory go-
vernment is essentially at variance with the plan
of our legislature. One great end, undoubtedly,
of a mixed government, like ours, is, that the
Prince shall not be able to violate the laws.
But this, even at first view, is no more than a
negative advantage; an armour merely defen-
sive. It is, therefore, next in order, and equal
in importance, that the discretionary powers which
are necessarily vested in the Monarch, whether for
the execution of the laws, or for the nomination to
magistracy and office, or for conducting the affairs
of peace and war, or for ordering the revenue,
should all be exercised upon public principles, and
{
F 118 ]
national grounds, and not on the likings or pre-
judices, the intrigues or policies, of á Court." He
follows the plan and operations of the cabal to
the most momentous effect, if we admit it to
have actually taken place,-its influence on par-
liament. “The House of Commons was ori-
ginally considered as a coNTROUL, issuing imme-
diately from the people, and SPEEDILY to be resolved
into the mass, from whence it arose. In this re-
spect, it was in the higher part of government
what juries are in the lower. The capacity of
a magistrate being transitory, and that of a ci-
tizen permanent, the latter capacity, it was
hoped, would, of course, preponderate in all
discussions, not only between the people and
the standing authority of the Crown, but be-
tween the people and the fleeting authority of
the House of Commons itself. It was hoped,
that, being of a middle nature between subject
and government, they would feel with a more
tender and nearer interest, every thing that
concerned the people, than the other remoter
and more permanent parts of legislature.
This character can never be sustained unless
the House of Commons shall be made to bear
some stamp of the actual disposition of the peo-
ple at large. It would (among public misfor-
tunes) be an evil more tolerable, that the
House of Commons should be infected with every
epidemical phrensy of the people, as this would in-
dicate some consanguinity, some sympathy of
{
[ 119 ]
1
nature, with their constituents, than that they
should, in all cases, be untouched by the opi
nions and feelings of the people. The virtue,
spirit, and ESSENCE OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
consists in its being the EXPRESS IMAGE
OF THE FEELINGS OF THE NATION. Iţ
was not designed to be a controul upon, but for,
the people." Having given THIS VERY JUST AC-
COUNT of the intention of a House of Commons, he
proceeds to a description of its state at that time,
which, whether just or not, is at least very elo-
quent. "A vigilant and jealous eye over exe-
cutory and judicial magistracy, an anxious
care of public money, an openness, approaching
towards facility, to public complaints: these
seem to be the true characteristics of an House
of Commons. But an addressing House of
Commons, and a petitioning nation; an House
of Commons full of confidence, when the nation
is plunged in despair; in the utmost harmony
with ministers, whom the people regard with the
utmost abhorrence; who vote thanks, when the
public opinion calls upon them for impeach-
ments; who are eager to grant, when the ge-
neral voice demands account; who, in all dis-
putes between the people and administration,
presume against the people; who punish their
disorders, but refuse even to enquire into the
provocations to, them: this is an unnatural, a
monstrous state of things in this Constitution.
Such an assembly may be a great, wise, aweful
↓
{
A
[120]
1
senate; but it is not to any popular purpose an
House of Commons." He pursues the secret
influence to its effects on foreign affairs, which
he maintains also to be pernicious.
His remedy for the evil has not a grain of
democracy in its composition. He does not
propose an uncontrouled power of the people
to prevent an uncoutrouled power of the court.
His object is to counterpoise the secret oli.
garchy of favouritism by an open aristocracy
of talents, virtue, property, and rank, combined
together on avowed principles, agreeable to the
constitution, and supported by the approbation
and confidence of the people. His plan is, that
not popular favour alone shall determine who is
to manage government, but- popular favour
combined with the constituents above mention-
ed. He thinks that the government should be
in the hands of those at the same time most
qualified and most interested in the welfare of
the whole. These are men of talents, rank,
property, and independence. He thinks that
an aristocracy so composed will, in all moral
probability, promote the good of the country
more effectually than either the people them-
selves, on the one hand, or court minions, on
the other. In a word, he proposes that inde-
pendent property should govern, and not de
pendent favouritism. The interests of the
people, he thinks, should be placed in the hands
of the independent yeomen, gentlemen, mer
[ 121 ]
chants, and manufacturers of the kingdom;
whose situation, from either their fortune or
industry, renders them free, independent agents,
than in the hands of the mere menials and mi-
nisters of court pageantry. He who derives his
fortune from inheritance, or successful industry,
has an interest in the welfare of the country
in which that fortune is vested; which is not
the case with the receivers of court wages.
The Sovereign should be determined in the
formation of his Ministry by that aristocracy so
supported, and not by his own private predi-
lections.
7
This general principle he applies to a con-
nection which, he says, ought to possess Govern-
ment. One of the chief arguments adduced
by Burke in favour of governing the country
by a connection, that is, a party of men not
dependent on the court, bound together by mu-
tual confidence, common affections, and com-
mon interests, is, that it had been governed by
such a connection during the most fortunate
periods of the preceding reigns since the revo-
lution. Here he brings forward a maxim often
applied by him in the succeeding parts of
his political life-that it behoves statesmen
to reason from experience and example, and
not from abstract principles. The connection
by which he proposes the country to be go-
verned is the Whig aristocracy, a combina-
tion of those families which had most power-
R
量
​庸
​[122]
fully supported the revolution and consequent
establishments. Such a combination he sup
poses to be primarily essential to the well-being
of the state. Generally abborent of speculative in-
novation in politics, he declares himself inimi-
cal to a change, or what its advocates call a
reform in the constitution and duration of par-
liament.
Thus we see Burke has, from his political
outset, been a FRIEND TO ARISTOCRATIC GOVERN-
MENT, AN ENEMY TO PARLIAMENTARY REFORM,
AND TO METAPHYSICAL INNOVATION IN POLITICS.
It may be said that, although the country had
prospered when government was in the hands
of the Whig connection, it would not follow, that
it was the CONNECTION that produced that pro-
sperity. It may also be said, that the country,
in fact, had not prospered to the extent which
Burke assumes. It would be difficult to prove
that the Duke of Marlborough's victories (had
they been as useful as they were brilliant) pro-
ceeded from his connection with the Whig
party. To many it will be doubtful, whether the
proceedings of the Whig connections, after their
re-establishment in power by the accession,
were not guilty of as oppressive and impolitic
acts as any attributed to the court junto, when
Burke wrote. Many may think the proceedings
against the Tory Lords, by the Whigs, as un-
justifiable and unconstitutional as those against
the popular favourites at the supposed insti-
[123]
>
}
gation of the court junto, and conceive the
prosecution of Lord Oxford and of Atterbury
to have been at least as contrary to natural jus-
tice and to constitutional principle, as the prose
cution of Wilkes. The purity of the longest of
all Whig Administrations has been questioned on
fully as strong grounds as the purity of any
Ministry formed at the instance of the court
junto.
Corruption appears from history to
have prevailed fully as much under the Admi-
nistration of Sir Robert Walpole, as under
those of Bute, Grenville, or Grafton. The
Whig Ministers, during the first war of George
II. did not contribute very much either to na-
tional honour or advantage. The most able
and successful Minister England had known was
not a creature of the Whig aristocracy, but a
statesman recommended to his Sovereign's
choice by his personal talents and the favour of
the people. He was even obnoxious to some
Whigs of the highest rank, but overbore them
by the highest TALENTS. Following, therefore,
with Burke, experience, as the surest guide in
the conduct of affairs, we do not find the Whig
combination, which he proposes, most likely to
extricate the country from the alledged evil. A
Whig junto might be better than a Court jun-
to. Independent Whigs would probably be
better disposed to promote the interest of their
country, than dependant Courtiers ;-but all
Whigs are not independent. The independence
[124]
M
{
of many of the members of the connection was by
no means clear. Whig great men had retainers,
as well as Court great men. Where evil of any
great kind, and in a great degree, prevails, the
remedy does not lie in any particular junto, but
in the UNITED SENSE AND VIRTUE OF THE COM-
MUNITY.
Burke thought the Whig connection more
powerful opposers of the court project, than
the personal talents and popularity of indivi-
duals. His reasoning is directed to recommend
the Rockingham party to have the management
of affairs, rather than Lord Chatham. Although
endued with talents that needed no patronage
to render him great, Burke had been brought
forward by the Whig interest; and endeavours
to shew that the wisest policy was to entrust go-
vernment to those with whom he himself was
connected. He tries to conciliate the King to
that party, by intimating, that by it the means
of royal magnificence would be much more am-
ply supplied than by the court junto. Sup-
pose (he says) we were to ask, whether the
King has been richer since the establishment of
court favouritism, I believe it will be found, that
the picture of royal indigence, which our Court
has presented, has been truly humiliating. If
the royal treasury had been exhausted by splendour
and magnificence, his distress would have been ac
counted for, and in some measure justified.”
>
[ 125 ]
***
He contends less
for change of measures
than change of men. Indeed he proposes no
material change of measures.
A much less degree of political knowledge
and ability than he possessed would, if im-
partially exerted, have seen, that such a go-
vernment as he proposes would be hereafter in-
effectual, as it had hitherto been; but so ductile
was the fancy, so ardent were the passions of
Burke, that he often deviated from reason much
farther than men of very inferior talents, with
cooler imaginations and tempers. Whatever
side he embraced, he embraced eagerly. When
his affections were once engaged, whatever they
stimulated he frequently conceived to be true
and right. It is evidently not peculiar to Burke
that his passions often warped his reason; but
an attentive observer of his life must see that
effect produced in him in so great a degree, as
to form a peculiar characteristic of his mind.
His genius is often employed in inventing ar-
guments for propositions not true, or devising
means for ends not salutary:-in counteracting
wisdom.
-
In many of Burke's writings we meet rather
with an abundance of important facts, profound
observations, brilliant images, and able argu-
ments, adding to the general amusement, plea-
sure, information, and instruction, than with
a chain of proofs, tending to confirm a specific,
proposition. In this pamphlet, the evident ob-
J
ها
[126]
1
ject is to evince the necessity of calling Lord
Rockingham's party into power. Excellent as
it is in many parts, it does not evince the neces
sity, nor even the expediency, of that change.
Some of his premises tend to establish conclu-
sions contrary to those which he forms. While
he has drawn a most glowing picture of the cor-
ruption of the House of Commons, he is inimi-
cal to parliamentary reform. If the House of
Commons was so perverted from its original
purpose, as to become a mere engine of the
Court, a reform would not only be expedient
but necessary. A mere dissolution of that par-
liament would not be sufficient, as the corrup
tion did not arise from causes peculiar to that
parliament. If secret influence existed, and ex-
isted with the alarming and destructive corrup
tion of the House of Commons, which hè states,
a radical change was necessary. It must be ad-
mitted by the friends of Burke, that though he de-
clares himself an enemy to parliamentary reform,
his statement of the corruption would, if true, be
asstrongan argument in favour of reform as its
supporters could adduce. Either the disease was
not so virulent as he represented, or the remedy
which he proposed was inadequate to the cure.
Mere change of physicians could not expel dis.
temper, without a change of either regimen or
medicine. This treatise tends rather to recom-
mend the members of his own college to em-
i.
[127]
1
}
ployment than to restore the patient to
health..
In perusing this, or any of the works of Burke,
on the politics of the time, the astonishing abilities
and knowledge employed lead a reader to`re-
gret that they were not directed either to more
permanent objects, or to objects, to the attain-
ment of which they might have been more ef-
fectual, Though in point of genius and learn-
ing even Johnson or Hume were not superior
to Burke, the direction of both these men's powers
to objects of more permament importance has
rendered their efforts of greater advantage to
mankind than Burke's. The effect of exertions
so directed as their's depended on their intrinsic
ability and skill; the effect of Burke's, in a great
degree, on extrinsic circumstances. He might
reason, he might write, he might speak, but
unless he coincided with the notions and views
of government, his reasoning, literature, and
oratory, could not effectuate his purposes. There
was no subject of moral or political history, or
science, of which he was not master. Had he
devoted those powers and exertions to the illus-
tration of the "noblest study of mankind,'
of man, in his faculties, in his social and civil re-
lations, which he applied to the propagation of
lations,—which
party creeds, his utility to society must have
been much greater. The accession of delight
and instruction, from the labours of Burke, in-
vestigating and elucidating general truths, must
[128]
1
have been much more important than from his
labours in supporting particular notions.
"To party he gave what was meant for mankind.”
Two sets of writers attacked this pamphlet :-
the friends of the Court, who denied the exist-
ence of the secret cabinet ; and the republicans,
who inveighed against its aristocratical tenden-
cy and opposition to reform. The celebrated
Mrs. Macaulay answered this tract, and des-
canted with much speculative ingenuity on
the just ends of Government," the Usurpa-
tions of Establishments,"" the Rights of Man,”
2
complete Reform in Parliament and Go.
vernment,' "Political Justice," and many
other topics that have since been hackneyed in
democratical writings, from the bold, energe-
tic, acute, dangerous, sophistry of Paine, and
the ingenious, but impracticable, theories of
Godwin, to the ignorant declamation of Thel-
wall. The aristocratic Burke of those days was
assailed, by the republicans of that period, with
as much violence as the aristocratic Burke of
latter times by the republicans of this period.
The author of a Biographical Preface to Burke's
Posthumous Works asserts that the Thoughts on
the Discontents mark the political tenets of Burke
to have been congenial to those recently at-
tacked by democratic writers. To me some of
the opinions appear coincident, some oppo-
site. That government ought to be in the hands
of an aristocracy of rank and property is con-
1
I
[129]
sistent with his late doctrines. The importance
ascribed by him to the voice of the people, his
encouragement of their petitions, his opinion
that the House of Commons ought to be an
image of popular opinion and an organ of pɔ-
pular will, may be apparently, but is not really
inconsistent, as, I trust, will be found when
these come to be discussed, with his late doc-
trines.
This was the first subject on which Burke and
Johnson published opposite opinions. The
ALARM, which Johnson calls false, and the Dis-
contents, which Burke supposes well founded,
were nearly the same. On considering these per-
formances, not as consisting of true or false rea-
soning, but as indicative of knowledge and ta-
lents, it must appear to an impartial reader,
that though Johnson displays equal acuteness,
equal strength, and more poignancy, Burke
shews much more of expansion and of profound
investigation; and that from his treatise a much
greater accession of political knowledge and
principle may be derived than from Johnson's.
It may be said that attack is more expatiatory
than defence; but Johnson, in his False Alarm,
attacks as well as defends. His subject admitted
of great expansion: he might have taken as
wide a range through the effects of popular li-
centiousness as Burke did through those of court
favouritism. In fact, with a memory as retentive,
with a judgment as strong and discriminating
{
[130]
卓
​F
as Burke's, equal to any man in his writings on
general ethics and criticism, he did not equally
excel in political discussion.
While Burke and Johnson differed on sub-
jects of political expediency, they co operated
in performing the duties of private friendship
and justice. They this summer appeared toge-
ther at the Old Bailey, to give evidence to the
character of a gentleman tried for his life Mr.
Baretti, so well known in the literary world,
had been attacked by a woman of the town,
near the Haymarket. In endeavouring to get
away, he was surrounded by three fellows, who
supported the woman in her impudence, and,
with much scurrilous abuse, struck him. They
continued to molest him; on which, apprehen-
sive of his life, he drew a knife, warning them
to keep off: a scuffle ensuing, he stabbed two of
them, of whom one died. Burke and Johnson,
with several others, bore testimony to the good-
ness of his general character and the peaceable-
ness of his disposition. The jury considered
the homicide as in self defence, and he was ac-
cordingly acquitted. Baretti was very intimate
with the members of the literary club, especi-
ally with Burke and Johnson, and highly valued
by those illustrious personages.
The internal commotions were beginning,
in some degree, to subside; but proceedings
arising from them still occupied the public
attention. Affairs in America were growing
more and more gloomy.
A
[131]
i
Lord North was now Prime Minister, a man
of pleasing and engaging manners, agreeable
disposition, and most amiable private character.
Distinguished for wit and readiness of argu-
ment, for classical knowledge, for taste and for
elegant literature; but perhaps fitter for the en-
joyment and participation of enlightened dis
course in private societies, than for the conduct
of affairs at so difficult a juncture.
His talents, indeed, were probably sufficient
for his situation. Extroardinary abilities are
not so absolutely necessary in the administra-
tion of government, as attention, experience,
prudence, and vigour. These qualities, with
sound judgement, may fit the possessor for
the highest offices; whereas, without them, the
greatest genius is insufficient. The goodness
and wisdom of Providence, intending human
happiness, puts the means, in a great measure,
within our reach: the efficacy of conduct of
every sort does not depend so much on force of
understanding, which is not in our power, as on
the conformation of WILL, which is in our
power. In eloquence, Lord North had few su
periors in the house; but his political notions
were wavering and unsettled. His counsels
were fluctuating, being generally the result of
particular occasion, and not the efforts of a
great, consistent, and well concerted plan. His
conduct was unsteady, now feeble, now rash,
now conceding, now coercing, with considera-
晚
​3
[132]
'
}
•
ble talents, and many virtues, he was the cause of
great disasters. His most formidable opponent in
the House of Commons, and by far the greatest
orator it contained, was Burke. On subjects of
deliberative wisdom, on subjects addressing
themselves not to his prejudices and passions
as a party man, but to his knowledge and un-
derstanding as a senator, Burke's views were
grand and comprehensive. He considered the
question with all its relations, profoundly inves-
tigated cause, and deduced consequences. The.
speeches of this illustrious orator were eminent
for exactness, extent, and multiplicity of infor-
mation; for copiousness and brilliancy of ima-
gery; for readiness, acuteness, versatility, and
strength of argument; for wideness of range,
and profound reflection; for command of lan-
guage and facility of communication. Johnson
observes, that genius does not consist in the
preponderancy of any one of the intellectual fa-
culties, but in the excellence of all. On view-
ing the whole mental exertions of Burke, one
would not have the hardihood to decide whether
memory, imagination, or reason, was the most
conspicuous; but most men, on attending to the
operations of any one of the powers, would es-
teem it superior to the others. From the most
minute and technical details, to the most én-
larged philosophy, physical and moral, and its
application to practice, he was always complete.
ly master of the subject. In speaking on the
裁
​**
[133]
}
changes of a turnpike road, or on the revolu
tions of nations; in explaining the process of a
manufacture, or the progress of the human
mind, he never failed to shew that the whole
and every part, the ends and means, the rela-
tion of means to means, and of means to ends,
were all within his grasp. When exhibition of
man was requisite, either of the individual or
species, either as modified by particular profes-
sions, arts, circumstances, or situation, or in
a general society, he drew a just, discriminate,
strong, and striking picture. Often, indeed, the
fulness of his mind and the elasticity of his fan-
cy would lead him farther than was necessary,
for information or argument, on the mere sub-
ject of discussion. But if some of his thoughts,
images, or sentiments, might be irrelative to
the individual object proposed, they did not fail
to produce some purpose of general pleasure or
utility. If he did digress,you might be instructed,
and must be delighted; and you were sure soon
to return to the matter in discussion: as at his
own Beaconsfield, you might deviate to survey
woods and lawns, and luxuriant meadows and
rich corn-fields, but you could soon regain the
straight road; a road leading to the reservoir
of learning and sound philosophy. The rapi-
dity of Burke's associating principle often
brought together subjects slightly related. The
fulness and flow of his capacious mind rendered
his speeches very long, and to some very tiresome.
1
7
{
[184]
To follow his details, relish his imagery, and
grasp his reasoning, often required an extent
of knowledge, a vigour of fancy, and a com-
pass of intellect not granted to ordinary men.
Besides, there are seasons, when even the
wisest men may be weary of wisdom. He fre-
quently, after the night was far advanced,
began a speech which he carried on for three
}
hours:-
"Two deep for his hearers, he went on rèfining,
“And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining."
1
In conversation, Burke excelled as much as in
public speaking. He could accommodate his
discourse to the capacities, and habits, and know-
ledge of the person addressed. He could con-
vey information either to the simple or the re-
fined, and instruction either to the clown or the
sage. Dr. Johnson, while he declares his opi-
nion, that if Burke were to go into a barn, the
threshers would think him the wisest man they
ever saw, testifies that he himself never was in
Burke's company without
That sage,who considered conversation as a com-
petition of intellectual powers, declared he was
never stimulated to such exertion as when con-
tending with Burke. Once, when he was ill,
and unable to exert himself as much as usual,
without fatigue, Burke being mentioned, he
said, "Edmund calls forth all my powers;
departing the wiser.
1
[135]
1
1
were I'to see him now it would kill me." It is
to be observed, that the effects of Burke's con-
versation arose entirely from its intrinsic excel-
lence. There was no extrinsic aid, no pomposity
of manner, to add apparent to real force. There
was no bow-wow way to make ordinary obser-
vers fancy that it contained more strength than
it did. Pungency often adds to the appearance
of force: Burke could be pointed, but was not
so habitually. His conversation, like his
speeches, was an unaffected effusion of know-
ledge, imagery, sentiment, reasoning, philoso-
phy. The susceptibility of his mind made his
passions very easily moved. His irritability
did not, however, show itself often in private
conversation. Even in the contention of public
debate, when his heat hurried him into expres-
sions of which calm judgment could not ap
prove, his asperity was either the occasional re-
tort of irritation, or the moral reproof of reak
or fancied delinquency, not the planned at-
tack of deliberate malice.
Lord North, in order to tranquillize America,
proposed, in the beginning of his administra-
tion, to repeal the obnoxious laws of the former
Ministry, and to reserve the duty on tea, merely
to maintain the authority of Parliament. The
duty was in itself of no great importance, but
in its principle and consequences of the highest
moment. The mercantile interest had suffered
by the associations of the Americans, not to
ད
I
1
}
}
[186]
take the article taxed.
Lord North's was a
short-sighted expedient, intended to remove a
particular inconvenience; but not a wise plan
of general conciliation, by removing the causes
of the discontents. As the Americans denied the
parliamentary right of taxing them, the discon,
tinuance of several duties did not tend to re-
move their dissatisfaction, while the smallest
remained. The three-pence a pound on tea
was equally inconsistent with the opinion of the
Americans on taxation, as a high duty on that
and every other article would have been. Lord
North's measure was impolitic in two views :
if the object was reconcilement, all the duties
ought to have been taken off; if maintenance
of the rights of Parliament, it was a diminu-
tion of revenue to no purpose. It was a half
measure, and, as half measures usually are, was
ultimately ineffectual. Burke's speech on this
proposition contained the most brilliant wit
and sarcastic humour, with the most extensive
knowledge and forcible reasoning. Lord
North's scheme was, he said, a heterogeneous
mixture of concession and coercion; of con-
cession not tending to conciliate, and of coer:
cion that could not be carried into execution ;
at once exciting hatred for the intention, and
contempt for the weakness. "Thus, the ma-
lignity of your will is abhorred, and the debi-
lity of your power is contemned; and parlia
}
}
+
[187]
<
ment, which you persuade to sanction your fol-
lies, is exposed to dishonour."
As his great genius was more and more ma-
tured by experience, he became, in estimating
plans for the conduct of affairs, less and less at-
tentive to questions of abstraction. At the com-
mencement of his political life, he advised a de-
claration of right, while he was for renouncing its
beneficial exercise. His wisdom was now of too
enlarged a nature and too practical an operation,
to dwell on barren generalities and metaphysical
distinctions. Although no man could more ea-
sily and more perfectly generalize, yet in mat.
ters of counsel and action, he, in applying a
general rule, always took into consideration
the case with its causes, peculiar circum-
stances, and probable consequences, as to be
expected from an appeal to experience. To
use his own language, he regarded abstract
competency as subservient to moral com-
petency. Whatever had been found productive
on the whole of good effects, he recommended
to be done; of bad, to be avoided. In going
over Lord North's proposition, he did not so
much consider the question of right as of ex-
pediency. A maxim of his, remarked by the
penetrating Editor of the Posthumous Works,
that to INNOVATE is not to REFORM, was applied
to this measure. The Americans, he said, have
been very serviceable to Britain under the old
system; do not, therefore, let us rashly seek a
T
}
$
1
?
[138]
}
new. Our commercial interests have been
hitherto very greatly promoted by our friendly
intercourse with the colonies; do not let us en-
danger possession for contingency, DO NOT LET
US SUBSTITUTE UNTRIED THEORIES FOR A SYSTEM
EXPERIMENTALLY ASCERTAINED TO BE USEFUL.
The changes from metaphysical disquisition
to practical consideration is not peculiar to
Burke; it is a common progression in wise
minds, instructed in philosophy, as they become
more experienced by increase of years, con-
yerse with mankind, and habituation to the
business of life.
Lord North's object seems to have been too
much to please both parties. to gratify the sup-
porters of parliamentary supremacy, and to
restore satisfaction to the colonies. Either a
more thorough knowledge of the state and sen-
timents of the Americans, the capacity of draw.
ing just conclusions from what he knew, or de-
termined resolution to act according to his
own information and reasoning, were wanting
to Lord North. Many, knowing his abilities,
have concluded the latter to be the case; and
have thought his measures respecting America
the dictates of less able but more powerful cour
tiers. Whatever was the cause, the effect was
most unfortunate to these realms.
Proceedings relative to the freedom of the
press afforded much discussion in the House of
Commons. The debates turning on constitu-
tional points, Burke took a very distinguished
1
A
[139]
part. Among many printers who republished
Junius's letters from the original, in the Public
Advertiser, one was Almon; a man obnoxious
to government on account of personal attacks
upon some of the ministry, and the supposed
favourites of the Court. He copied the letter to
the King into a monthly magazine. Although
it had been copied before into all the news
papers in the kingdom, none of the publish
ers had been prosecuted-but an action was
commenced against Almon for his republica-
tion. From the object prosecuted, this step
was imputed by the Opposition to resentment,
more than to the sense of justice. If justice
had been the motive, it was alledged that the
publisher would have been the first and princi-
pal object.
It was contended that the Attorney-General's
official power of filing informations was too ex-
tensive to be compatible with freedom. A bill
was proposed to modify and limit that law.
officer's power; by explaining and amending
an act of William and Mary, for preventing
malicious informations in the Court of King's
Bench. In supporting this bill, Burke made
a speech replete with legal knowledge, shew-
ing his thorough acquaintance with crown law
in general, and with particular acts, in their
history, detail, spirit, and constitutional ten-
dency. Serious information and reasoning were
enlivened by wit and humour. Some of the
opposite party had dwelt very much on the an-
[140]
tíquity of the power lodged in the Attorney-
General. Burke, though a reverencer of an-
tient usage when found generally accompanied
with good, yet not reverencing it when pro-
ductive of evil, and not conceiving the antiquity
in this case proved, placed the argument in a
variety of ridiculous lights. "Several gentle-
men (he said) have expressed a kind of super-
stitious veneration for this power, on account
of its supposed antiquity; as the father of Scrib-
lerus extolled the rust and canker which exalted
a brazen pot-lid into the shield of a hero. I hope
to scowr off the false marks of antiquity which
have made this power venerable, as effectually
as the honest house-maid scoured off the false
honours of the pot-lid." While Burke impugns.
the power of the Attorney-General, he inveighs
against licentious libels. He characterises the
North Briton with a severity at once witty and
just. "Number forty-five of the North Briton
is a spiritless though virulent performance, a
mere mixture of vinegar and water, at once
sour and vapid." When he attacks ministerial
oppressions and usurpations, he assigns, as the
most immediately hurtful effects of their con-
duct, the incitement of popular sedition and
violence. In descanting on libels, he takes
occasion to speak of JUNIUS, in a manner
that implies that he was not the author, or
thought himself secure
secure of concealment.
"How comes JUNIUS to have broke through
the cobwebs of the law, and to range uncon.
[141]
•
犟
​trouled and unpunished through the land? The
myrmidons of the Court pursue him in vain.
They will not spend their time on me or you;
they disdain such vermin, when the mighty boar
of the forest, that has broke their toils, is before
them. When I saw his attack upon the King
my blood run cold; not, that there are not in
that composition many bold truths, by which a
wise Prince might profit: it was the rancour
and venom with which I was struck. When I
expected from his daring flight his fall and
final ruin, I behold him soaring bigber, and com-
ing souse upon both houses of parliament; nor
has he dreaded the terrors of your brow, Sir,*
King, Lords, and Commons, are the sport of his
fury."
•
Doctrines promulgated by some of the judges,
particularly by the great Mansfield, were, by
many friends of the constitution, deemed inimi-
cal to the rights of juries. It was maintained
on the Bench, that in cases of libels juries were
to judge of the facts and tendency only, and
not of the intention; and that the truths of the
allegations could not be pled in abatement of
the guilt of defamatory writings. Sergeant
Glynn made a motion for an enquiry into the
practice of the judges, and for ascertaining and
declaring the law of the land. This motion,
* Sir Fletcher Norton, the Speaker, of no very pleasing
aspect.
1
[142]
though somewhat different in detail, was nearly
the same in principle as the bill since proposed
by Mr. Erskine, and passed into a law. Burke
argued, that the power exercised by the Chief-
Justice and his imitators was inimical to per-
sonal security, and arrogated to judges ap
pointed by the crown the right vested by the
fundamental laws in juries; that thus a man
might be deprived of his liberty and property
without the judgment of his peers. After de-
ducing the rights of juries to find the guilt as
well as the fact, he went into the practice of
our greatest times, since the abolition of the
Star-Chamber, and shewed it to recognize this
fundamental right of juries. The motion was
negatived.
Two speeches were this session delivered by
Burke on the conduct of Ministry respecting
Falkland Island. These speeches take a very
wide range, and display the vast extent of his
knowledge. As to the merits of the question,
Burke seems, in this case, not equal to his pri-
vate friend and public opponent, Johnson, al-
though generally superior to him in political
discussion. The Doctor demonstrates, that
from the magnificence of the object, after the
concessions of Spain, war would have been ex-
tremely impolitic. Johnson's observations (af
ter discussing the main question) on the duty
of Ministers, in every case consistent with
national safety and honour, to avoid war, are
{
[143]
1
equal to any of the productions of that great and
good man's wisdom and philanthropy.
f
Although Mr. Burke and Dr. Johnson dis.
agreed concerning political measures, internal
and external, they still continued mutual friend-
ship. Indeed the disagreement in principle was
rather apparent than real; The Tory was the sup.
porter of personal independence; and regarded
political liberty, as far as it appeared to him to
produce private liberty and happiness. Though
averse to resistance, unless under great op-
pression, he admitted that " if the abuse be enor-
mous, Nature will rise up, and, claiming her original
rights, overturn a corrupt political system." The
Whig was the friend of subordination, the re-
verencer of rank and dignity, and the enemy
of popular violence. Johnson did not maintain
the duty of obedience to Kings and rulers on
the ground of any divine right they had to such
obedience; but on account of the conducive-
ness of the obedience to the happiness of the
governed. Burke allowed that it was the duty
and interest of the governed to obey their go-
vernors, unless in cases of very flagrant op-
pression; and considered the greatest evil of
certain ministerial measures to be their ten-
dency to arouse the people to forcible resist-
ance. "A wise Tory and a wise Whig," John-
son himself observes, "in their politics rarely
agree; their principles are the same, their modes
of thinking are different: sufferance and irresist-
$
r
1
[144]
#
ance must always be determined to be right or
wrong by the circumstances of the case; and
not by antecedent definitions and abstract prin-
ciples.
Although the political differences of Johnson
and Burke did not interrupt affection and ve-
neration, their diversity of opinion, combined
with the rough manners of the lexicographer,
frequently led to asperity; but generally witty
rather than serious. Burke displayed equal force
of wit and argument, but much greater sua-
vity of manners. Dr. Robertson observed that
Johnson's jokes were not the stabs of malevo-
lence, but the rebukes of the righteous, which are
like excellent oil, and break not the bead." Oil,”
replied Burke, "oil of vitriol."
Mr. Boswell is at great pains to prove that
Burke possessed wit. In his conclusion most
readers will agree, but not on the grounds
which he adduces. The instances which he de.
tails are puns, at best mixed, not pure wit.-
Some of the examples cited by Mr. Boswell
seem to be introduced as much for the purpose
of recording certain observations for which he
values himself, as of illustrating the wit of
Burke.
One day Boswell trying to make a definition
of man, that would distinguish him from all
other animals, calls him " a cooking animal”—
a man alone can dress a good dinner, and every
man is more or less a cook, in seasoning what
[145]
he himself eats. "Your definition," replied
Burke," is good; I now see the full force of
the common proverb, "there is reason in the
roasting of eggs." Boswell afterwards speaking in
the club of an intention he had of going to view
the Isle of Man, Burke repeated Pope's words :
"The proper study of mankind is Man.”
Boswell telling him that he had seen at a Blue-
Stocking Club a number of ladies sitting round
a worthy and tall friend of their's (Johnson),
and listening to his literature. Ay," said
Burke,, like maids round a May-pole."
"
have already noticed instances, not of
puns
or conceits, but of great wit in some of his
speeches; and shall, as I proceed, have occa-
sion to quote more. His wit is often joined with
humour, either light and pleasant, or satirical
and contemptuous. Speaking of Lord North's
determined adherence, merely because he had
adopted it, to a plan of coercion, proved, from
its effect, to be hurtful, he compared him to
Dr. Sangrado, when Gil Blas represented
to him that death was the consequence of his
specifics, and advised him to alter his method.
No," says the Doctor, "I cannot leave off
warm water and bleeding (although my pati-
ents do not often recover) since I have written
a book in its favour." Johnson mentions a more
uniformly pleasing qualification for company
than wit and humour, which Burke was allowed,
by all that knew him, eminently to possess.-
U
+
[146]
"c
Burke," he said, "is constantly the same;
never what we call hum-drum, never unwilling
to begin to talk, nor in a hurry to leave it
off."
This year it was proposed by Mr. Strahan to
the Secretaries of the Treasury, to introduce
Dr. Johnson into parliament, as a man that
would be a very powerful champion for Admi-
nistration. Ministers, though they had expe-
rienced the force of his assistance, probably not
thinking his habits and manners consistent
with parliamentary decorum, did not accede to
the proposition. Burke being asked his opinion
concerning the propriety of Johnson's becoming
a member of parliament, replied, " If he had
come early into the house, he certainly would
have been the greatest speaker that ever was
there; but then, that having been so long used
to the compression of conversation, he might
not have equally excelled in the expansion of
argument, which the complication of matter
often requires in public debates." It is proba-
ble, that if Dr. Johnson had procured a seat in
the senate, such an opponent might have con-
tracted the expatiation of Burke, and induced
him to converge the bright rays of his eloquence
into a narrower focus, to give them all possible
force. The powers of the competitor would
not have permitted Atalanta to deviate far from
the direct road in pursuit of golden apples. Mr.
Boswell mentions this opinion of Burke concern-,
*
-
+
[147]
{
ing the lateness of Strahan's wish to have John-
son introduced into parliament, narrates 'seve-
ral observations made by him in the club and.
elsewhere, as anecdotes worthy of being record-
ed, and as displaying him in discourse and
in private society. He tells us that Dr. John.
son and he once had a dispute concerning the
comparative merits of Homer and Virgil's po-
ems. Burke admitted the superiority of Ho-
mer's genius, but not of his work. Both brought
forward the full force of their powers of philo-
sophical criticism, and, probably from emula-
tion might exceed what either would have
done without the stimulus of such opposition.
That Burke really was convinced of the supe-
riority of Virgil's poetry to that of Homer, I
have not heard. The sublimity, force, rapi-
dity, exhibition of character, and variety of
Homer, were not less akin to his own genius,
than the beauty, majesty, and pathetic of the
Mantuan Bard.
}
There was obviously a nearer approximation
in Johnson's mind to some of the qualities of
Homer than to those of Virgil. He was much
more eminent for teaching right and wrong,
than exhibiting elegance and tenderness. He
forcibly inculcates-
<<
Quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe,
re
Quid utile, quid non.
"Molle atque facetum"
are by no means the characteristics of his works.
}
[ 148 ]
Mr. Boswell very justly regrets that a criticismı
has not been preserved, which must have mark-
ed the positive and distinctive merits of the
Grecian and Roman more ably than any criti-
cism concerning their comparative powers and
works that we have on record. A man of
equal comprehensiveness and force of under-
standing with either, though less habituated to
critical disquisitions, has, since that time, had
an argument with Burke on the same subject.
Burke, thoroughly acquainted with the Greek
and Roman classics, preferred Virgil and Lu-
cretius to any of the Latin poets, and could re-
peat the greater part of both. It was not merely
as a man of taste, nor even as a man of feeling,
that he was rapturously fond of Virgil; not the
beauty and tenderness only of that enchanting
poet, but his philosophy rendered him a peculiar
favourite of Burke. The pathos of the fourth,
the sublime ethics of the sixth Eneid, and the
philosophical passages of the Georgics, he could
repeat from beginning to end. Although he by no
means approved of Lucretius's theology, he was
charmed with many parts of his poem, particu-
Jarly with his just and forcible description of the
effects of superstition. Brilliant as was his ima-
gination, he delighted more in those parts of
poetical works which afforded knowledge phy-
sical or moral, especially the latter, and gene-
ral principles, than with those parts that abound
in imagery. He read Horace's satires, and his
[149]··
$
critical and ethical epistles, with more pleasure
than his most poetical odes.
Although he shewed himself thoroughly ac-
quainted with the eloquence and history of the
Romans, and, as a man of taste and genius,
must have been pleased with such monuments
of excellence, neither the Latin historians or
even the Latin orators were his peculiar fa-
vourites. Admiring the force and philosophy
of Tacitus, he disliked his style, and indeed
all styles in which there was an appearance of
study or affectation. In Homer, although he
chiefly admired the sublimity, yet he was most
delighted with the pictures of characters and
manners. On account of its more minute de-
lineation of antient society, he read the Odys-
sey more frequently than the Iliad. He was
deeply conversant in the philosophy of Greece,
abstruse and practical. In the earlier part of
his life he devoted himself principally to the
former, but afterwards to the latter. Which
of the great historians he mostly admired I
have not heard. It is almost needless to say
that Demosthenes was his favourite orator.-
Among dramatic writers, Euripides was more
relished by him than even Sophocles: the poet
who described men as they were, than the
poet who drew them as they ought to be-the
copier from experience than from theory.
Human nature was Burke's favourite study:
those writings he perused with the most exquisite
delight, which exhibited particular characters,
&
[150]
general manners, the cognitive and active princi-
ples of the human mind, and their operation in the
relations andduties of society. This predilection
for pictures of moral nature might be farther
illustrated from the modern writers whom he
preferred: among these were Bacon and Shake-
speare, of the highest order; and of a high,
though inferior order, Fielding, Le Sage, and,
especially, Addison. Concerning Fielding he
differed with his friend Johnson, and preferred
him to Richardson: the painter from real life
to the painter from his own fancy. His precise
opinion of Pope I have not learned: Swift he
did not relish as a describer of human nature,
because he only gave one side.
The communicativeness of Mr. Boswell often
brings out particulars respecting himself, which
many writers would have spared. He informs us,
that when he was proposed to be a member of the
club, Mr. Burke objected to him, as not being fit.
Johnson, however, being desirous to have Bos-
well admitted, the judgment of Burke gave way,
in this instance, to the inclination of his friend.
After Mr. Boswell was admitted into the Ge-
rard-street club, Burke treated him with that
easy and frank politeness, which was habitual
to him, which the good-natured and obliging
disposition of Boswell deserved, and which he
construed to be intimate friendship. The eager
desire of Boswell to be acquainted with men of
eminence, received from his own sanguine
1
[151]
•
temper more gratification than from the actual
notice of the personages whose company he
courted. Common civility from such he often
fancied to be a most distinguising regard: no
wonder then that the engaging manners of
Burke should pass with him for marks of pecu-
liar attachment to himself. Great men are ge-
nerally introduced by Mr. Boswell, in order to
talk of himself, a subject on which he always
dwelt with peculiar pleasure. His egotism,
however, is not the effect of arrogant haughti-
ness, but of good-natured vanity. He certainly
has been of considerable advantage to the public
by the many facts he has recorded concerning
other great men, as well as the object of his.
adoration. If there be no great clearness of ar
rangement, or comprehensive views of whole
characters and subjects, there is pleasantness
and utility of collection. The public may not
be much entertained with the history of the
Ashbourn dead cat, or of Veronica, the wri-
ter's great grandmother, but are pleased and
instructed by authentic narratives of conversa-
tions between the most eminent men of the age.
Those who care little about the genealogical
history of Auchinleck and Balmuto, about the
chieftainship of Macleod or of Raasay, are
pleased to be informed concerning Beauclerk,
Goldsmith, Johnson, and Burke,
Burke entertained a poor opinion of the Beg-
gar's Opera. He allowed it, on the whole, very
1
}
[152]
み
​inconsiderable merit. He thought its intellec-
tual excellence small, and totally over balanced
by its moral defects. He did not admit the
common-place objection, that it was calculated
to increase the number of robbers. Those who
betake themselves to the highway, he thought
it probable, are impelled by much more power.
ful motives than the imitation of a fictitious rob
ber, exhibited on the stage. It is indeed
equally improbable that a man should become-a
highwayman from seeing Macheath, as that a
woman should become a prostitute from seeing
Jenny Diver. The mischief consisted, he
thought, in arraying vice in agreeable colours,
and representing the greatest crimes without
exciting the proper detestation; that there is
more pains taken to shew that others are greater
villains than thieves and highwaymen, than to
teach and induce these to refrain from their vil-
lainies. Such a comparison might probably ap
pear to the perspicacious understanding and
powerful invention of Burke as of obvious re-
collection if true, or easy conception if feigned.
He might perceive that if, according to the hy-
pothesis of the Beggar's Opera, the principles
of a robber are similar to those of a courtier, it
required merely common observation to assi-
milate the character; but Burke did not admit
the fact. The Beggar's Opera, with its se-
quel, Polly, represents mankind, in civilized
society, as universally vicious; and, in a savage
་
WTS
[153]
staté only as´ virtuous. The only good men,
by Gay's exhibition, are Maroons. Burke had
formed a very different opinion of polished so-
ciety, and uniformly maintained that, as his
experience increased, he had learned to think
more favourably of the civilized world. Gib-
bon has an observation on the Beggar's Opera,
which, whether just or not, is new and ingeni-
ous: "It has (he said) had a beneficial effect in
refining highwaymen, and making them less fe-
rocious, more polite; in short, more like gentle-
men." Mr. Courtenay, on hearing this, said,
with his usual happiness of witty allusion, "then
Gay was the Orpheus of highwaymen."
محمد
Full as the mind of Burke was, it was daily
and hourly receiving accessions. Untainted by
the contagion of fashionable vice and frivolity,
he directed to reading and conversation those
hours which were not employed in parliamen-
tary duties, in necessary business, and in salu-
brious exercise. From whatever he read he
derived instruction; every other metal he trans-
muted into that malleable, ductile, and valuable
metal of which his own mind consisted. He
generally read with a pen in his hand, to make
extracts and observations, especially the latter.
A most wonderful memory retained whatever
he read; and the quick comprehensiveness of
his mind immediately saw its class and ten-
dency. Perhaps no man in Britain had such a
facility of acquiring knowledge, with so indefa-
X
[154]
}
{
tigable application. He had an exquisite taste
for the fine arts; and was deemed by Sir Joshua
Reynolds the best judge of pictures he ever
knew. Much of his leisure time was spent in
Sir Joshua's house. The amusement in which
he most delighted was the theatre He did
not, like Johnson, contemn scenical persona-
tion; he had a high admiration of theatrical ex-
cellence his taste was gratified by the perfect
imitation of human characters and passions,
which a Garrick and a Siddons exhibited. Part
of the recess he spent at Beaconsfield; there his
taste appeared in various fine improvements of
natural beauty. But higher qualities, pro
cured him the respect and love of all within
the sphere of his action; not those only who,
knew and could appreciate his talents, and who,
perhaps dazzled by the lustre of his genius,
might see his conduct imperfectly; but thosẹ
who knew nothing of him but as a country
gentleman. The peasants, who were benefitted
by his counsels; the labourers, for whose em-
ployment, and the melioration of whose con-
dition, he was daily devising means the poor,
who found him a bountiful benefactor all
joined in praising his wisdom and blessing his
goodness. He planned various institutions,
some of which I shall, in the sequel, detail, for
making the poorer mechanics and labourers
save a little fron their wages or profits to assist
each other in sickness or poverty, and give to,
+
{
[155]
their children the education nécessary or useful
in their humble stations. He was himself, in
country as in town, a man of study and busi.
ness. That time was given to relaxation which
remained from active duties. Otium laborque
'non temporibus divisa; quod labori supererat otio
datum. His objects at his villa and in the senate
were the same,-to promote the welfare of that
portion of mankind on which his actions might
operate. Burke, in every part of his conduct,
shewed that the wisdom which he pursued was
practical. He was uniformly the enemy of spe-
culative innovations. At Beaconsfield he be-
stowed much attention on farming. The estate
would let at about 600l. a year; three-fourths
of it he cultivated himself. As a farmer he
pursued that plan which had been found, by
experience, to produce the best corn and cattle;
and was, in fact, without any unusual expence,
one of the most successful farmers in the county.
When in town he had his mutton, poultry, and
all other meats, except beef; also the various
productions of the dairy and gardens, from his
own estate, brought by his own horses and
carts. The same horses which served for his
carriage were employed on his farms. Both
in town and country he was remarkable for hos-
pitality-an hospitality of real benevolence:
there was no parade of stile, no ostentatious dis-
play of side-boards, no sumptuous entertain-
ments; but every thing plain, substantial, and
[156]
J
agreeable, with kind looks, kind manners, and
a hearty welcome. He would often insist, in
town, on eight or ten of his acquaintances go-
ing home with him to eat mutton-chops or beef-
steaks; and, on such occasions, literally gave
such dinners-dinners, with the zest of his com-
pany, to which few could be found equal. He
liked a cheerful glass, but never drank to ex-
cess. During dinner his beverage was water,
and afterwards generally claret or some other
light wine, and he seldom exceeded a bottle.
His conversation was always so animated and
so-flowing, his spirits so exhilirated, that the
wine could make no addition.
་
His benevolence extended itself to common
beggars. In walking in the streets he gene-
rally disposed of all the silver he had in hist
pocket to the various mendicants who solicited
his charity. He imputed inattention to such
petitions not to the policy of discouraging beg-
gars, but to unwillingness to part with mo-
ney.
Both as a student and a man of business he had
unceasing industry. He was an early riser,
and used to dispatch many important affairs
while some of his friends were recruiting them-
selves from the watching of the tavern or the fer-
ment of the gaming-house. In his way to the
House he frequently called on a friend equal in
ability even to himself, but very inferior in point
of regularity, and found him at three o'clock, be-
*
[ 157 ]
/
3
ginning his breakfast. “There's Charles, (he
would say) whilst I am exhausted by reading
and business, he is quite fresh; it is no wonder
he is so much more vigorous in the House."
Part of the summer was frequently devoted
to revisiting his native country, or in viewing
different places in England. He sometimes
travelled in the stage-coach, and was an exqui-
sitely agreeable companion. He knew the his-
tory, physical and moral, of every place he
passed through, and entertained his fellow tra-
vellers with pleasing or useful anecdotes and
observations, according to their capacity or in-
clination. I have heard from a lady that once
came in the coach with him a considerable part
of the road from Yorkshire, without knowing
who he was, that he fixed the attention of all
the passengers by his great fund of local know-
ledge, and the anecdotes with which it was in-
terspersed. They all concurred in thinking
him the most entertaining man they had ever
met. Seeing him afterwards in London, she
found that he who had delighted a stage-coach
company was a man
>
€
"The applause of listening senates to command.”
In summer, 1772, he visited the Continent:
there he first saw the fair Marie Antoinette,
whose accomplishments and graces made such
an impression on a mind feelingly alive to the
sublime and beautiful, and whose charms and
misfortunes he has since described with so pa-
thetic eloquence.
1
#
138*
The literary and political eminence of Burke
rendered him, while in France, courted by the
antimonarchical and antihierarchical philoso-
phers of the time. One of the subjects of dis-
cussion between him and the philosophers of
France was the merit of Beatie's Essay on Truth.
He seems to have been as partial for Beatie as
against Hume. To an impartial reader it
might appear surprising, that men, possessed
themselves of such powers of reasoning as
Burke and Johnson, should admire the declama-
tory writings of Beatie, if he were not to re-
collect that the wisest men do not always judge
as wise men, but frequently form opinions
which persons, much their inferiors, can- per-
ceive to be erroneous., It might be attributed
to their regard for religion, that they so much
venerated its zealous defender: but were that
the sole cause, they would have estimated its
champions by their ability, and preferred the
logical closeness of Campbell, and the cautious
modest profoundness of Reid, to the confident
vivacity of Beatie. * But though the reasonings
of Beatie be neither very profound nor very
ingenious, his doctrines are just and salutary.
* It is said that, besides his zeal for orthodoxy, his va-
nity as an author prompted Beatie to abuse Hume. Hume, on
perusing some of his poems, called them milk and water
verses; which, it said, the divine never forgave. We find
the arguments of Beatie much more frequently quoted, and
his book much more highly esteemed, by pious well-disposed ·
men, of no very great reach, than by able men (except Johns
son and Burke), even of the Christian persuasion.
'
[159]
It was the doctrines more than the reasonings
which the infidel followers of Voltaire, Helve-
tius, and Rousseau, attacked. In the religious
scepticism and political theories of these writ-
ers Burke's sagacious mind saw the probable
overthrow of religion and government. His
sentiments he took occasion the following ses-
sion to communicate to the House of Commons.
That subject not relating to any immediate bu-
siness before the House, or to any danger to
common minds, imminent or even distantly
probable, his speech was not taken down with
the usual accuracy. A copy, however, is ex-
tant, of which the following summary is given
by the editors of his Posthumous Works. "He
pointed out the conspiracy of atheism to the
watchful jealousy of governments. He pro-
fessed that he was not over fond of calling in
the aid of the secular arm to suppress doctrines
and opinions; but if ever it was to be raised,
it should be against those enemies of their
kind, who would take from us the noblest
prerogative of our nature, that of being a re-
ligious animal." Then comes the following
quotation from the speech. Already, under
the systematic attacks of those men, I see
many of the props of good government begin-
ning to fail. I see propagated principles which
will not leave to religion even a toleration, and
make virtue herself less than a name," ("he
recommended that a grand alliance should be
160 J
!
formed among all believers") "against those
ministers of rebellious darkness, who were en-
deavouring to shake all the works of God, es-
tablished in beauty and order."
These were opinions and sentiments very
inimical, if not to a revolution in France, at
least to the revolution which has actually taken
place, with all its concomitant circumstances.
F
This session Sir Henry Houghton made a
motion for relieving the Dissenters from sub.
scription and the penal laws. The supporters
of the church doctrines brought forward the
usual arguments; that Dissenters were not ac-
tually liable to the punishments annexed to the
penal statutes; and that an attempt to set aside
the articles was an attack on Christianity.
· Burke combatted these arguments with ener
getic eloquence, and a warmth rising almost to
enthusiasm. "The Dissenters (he said) enjoy
liberty by connivance. What is liberty by con-
nivance, but a temporary relaxation of slavery? Is
this a sort of LIBERTY calculated for the meridian
of ENGLAND? You are desirous to keep the rod
hanging over Dissenters' heads, at the very in-
stant you assure them they shall never smart
under its stripes. Why not release them from,
the dread of these penal statutes, the cruelty of
which shocks your generous natures so much,
that you think it incumbent on you to declare
they should never be put into execution? The
question answers itself; to cavil at its propriety
[161]
•
is to carp at truth, and elude conviction. As
to toleration being an attack on Christianity,
it is an assertion contrary to truth and history.
By toleration Christianity flourished." (This
proposition and its converse he proves by an
historical detail.) "The want of toleration
has lessened the number of believers; I would
have all Protestants united, that we may be the
better able to make a common cause against
Infidels. THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND HAS NOT
A FIRMER FRIEND THAN MYSELF. I wish her
head may reach that heaven, to which she
would conduct us; but I would also wish her
family as numerous as possible. I would have
her with wide extended arms receive every
believer, not with unnatural austerity reproach
her offspring, and drive them to seek ease,
pleasure, and comfort, in the harlot lap of Infi-
delity."
་
In these opinions and sentiments there was
liberality without laxity. From Burke's sup-
port of the Dissenters during a part of his life,
and his disapprobation of some of their pro-
ceedings during another part, his detractors
have endeavoured to prove that he was incon-
sistent. This is a conclusion of very hasty
reasoning. Unless it be proved that the Dis-
senters in 1772, and those in 1790, maintained
exactly the same opinions, and in the same cir-
cumstances of society, Burke's support of their
C
*
L
[ 162 ]
}
2
$
cause at the one time, and opposition to it at.
the other, cannot be evinced to be inconsistent.
He who vindicates toleration may resist en-
croachment. The Dissenters in 1772 solicited
protection before 1790 some of them had a-
vowed their expectations that the established
church would be subverted. The difference in
the former period consisted chiefly in modes of
worship and ecclesiastical government, more
than in the substance of articles of faith and
practical precepts: in the latter, sentiments
were publicly avowed inimical to the existence
of both church and state. Although all Dis-
senters were far from having imbibed such no-
tions, or formed such intentions; yet, as many,
and especially the leading men among them,
had done so, wisdom dictated a caution before
unnecessary. Besides, there are states of society
in which it would be proper to counteract the
very opinions that it would be right to cherish
in different circumstances. In the early part
of this reign, the power of the executive branch
of the constitution was preponderant: wisdom
directed and patriotism prompted their votaries
to throw their weight into the popular scale.
Soon after the French revolution, doctrines
prevailed, tending to elevate the popular branch
much beyond its due proportion. The same
wisdom directed and the same patriotism
prompted its votaries to counteract that pre-
valence. BURKE'S CONDUCT AROSE FROM IDEN.
}
}
}
[163]
t
$
TITY OF PRINCIPLE, VARYING ITS OPERATIONS IN
DIVERSITY OF CIRCUMSTANCES.
Sir Henry Houghtons's motion passed through
the House of Commons, but was thrown out in
the House of Lords.
The discontinuance of other duties, as Burke
had foreseen, was far from satisfying the Ame-
ricans, whilst that on tea was reserved. They
considered the relinquishment as extorted by
their resistance, not as granted to their solici-
tations. The remaining duty on tea they
thought a maintenance by Parliament of the
principle of taxation, while a more convenient
opportunity was waited for extending its opera-
tion. Their distrust of the mother country
continued. Associations were formed to dis-
courage the use of tea and to resist its importa-
tion.
East India affairs, in the session of 1772, be-
came a principal subject of parliamentary de-
liberation. The proceedings of the legislature
respecting India, at that time, constitute an im-
portant epoch in the history of this reign: not
only for the new regulations for the manage-
ment of the East, but for bringing to a crisis
our disputes with the West: they constitute
also an epoch in the life of Burke, as he now
commenced the investigation of subjects which
afterwards occupied so much of his labours.
The abuses of the Company's servants in
India had raised an outcry in this country.
}
{
1
1
'
[ 164 ។
Burke made accurate inquiries into the alledged
oppressions and cruelties, and, by oral testimony.
and written documents, acquired a very exact
and extensive knowledge of the history, actual
state, abuses, means of correction, and general
interests of British India.
N
Parliament found the affairs of the Company
of such complication, difficulty, and in port-
ance, that they chose a Select Committee, to
inquire, during the recess, into the condition
of the commercial and territorial possessions.
The ruling Directors, apprehensive that the
full disclosure of the abuses of their servants
would induce Government to intermeddle in
concerns. hitherto guided by themselves and
their creatures, thought of means to prevent
the interference. Hoping that, by reposing
unlimited confidence in a popular man, they
might stop the public clamour, and also take
from Government the most plausible pretext
for interfering in their affairs, they proposed to
send Burke to India with discretionary powers,
as the head of a commission for the reform of
abuses. He refused the appointment, deter-
mined to adhere to his party.
Besides the plea of the misconduct of their
servants, there was another reason in the finan-
ces of the India Company, for which Govern,
ment proposed to take a direction in the ma-
nagement of their affairs, Their pecuniary
concerns had, according to Ministry, become
:
[165]
very
much embarrassed. Being unable to make
good their payments, they applied to Parlia-
ment for assistance, and represented that their
difficulties were owing chiefly to the want of the
usual market for their tea in America; in con-
sequence of which they had seventeen millions
of pounds lying in their warehouses. Lord
North alledged, that the proceedings of the
Select Committee, during the recess, had been
too slow for the urgency of the case; and pro-
pased a Secret Committee, consisting of eleven
members. This Committee being appointed,
went over the commercial and political affairs
of the Company with so great dispatch, that
after sitting nine days, from November 28th to
December 7th, 1772, it procured such informa-
tion as Lord North professed to think a suffi-
cient ground for very important measures. The
first was a bill to restrain the Company for a
limited time from sending a commission of su-
pervision to their Presidencies in India. The
proposed commission was, by the supporters of
the bill, represented as by far too expensive for
the involved state of the Company's finances.
Burke took a very extensive view of the con-
stitution of the Company, and its actual state.
This speech was one of the numberless instan-
ces, paratum accessisse ad causam; that he was
prepared for the subject in discussion, so pre-
pared as implied not merely special inquiry for
a temporary purpose, but general systematic
"
[166]
}
·
•
information. He inferred from their charters,
that the proposed restraint was an invasion of
their rights; and from the reports of the com-
mittee, that there did not exist a necessity,
which alone could justify the proposed invasion.
From the quickness with which the reports had
been made out, respecting the complicated
concerns of so great a company, he contended
that it arose not from a full examination of
their affairs, but from a previous resolution.
To serious reasonings he joined wit and ridicule.
Speaking of the two committees, the open and
the secret, he said, "Here is a committee ap-
pointed last session, a fair and open committee,'
which has produced nothing. This was the
lawful wife, publicly avowed; but finding her
barren, the Minister has taken a little snug one,
which he calls a Secret Committee, and this bill
is her first-born. Indeed, from the singular ex-
pedition of this extraordinary delivery, I sus
pect she was pregnant BEFORE wedlock.”
*
At a farther stage of the bill he made another
speech, shewing the various proceedings of
Parliament respecting the India Company, from
its commencement, the consequences of the se-
veral acts; and, on this new ground, main-
taining the inexpediency of the proposed bill.
The subject had before gone through the dis-
cussion of the ablest speakers on both sides ;
but Burke's genius, after the question appeared
exhausted, both by others and himself, was
}
[ 167 1
able to give it all the charms of novelty. He
again, placed the dissimilar speed of the two
committees in a very ludicrous view. " One
has been so slow, that the Company expects no
redress from it; the other so rapid, that the
Company know not where it will stop: like the
fly of a jack, the one has gone hey-go-mad, the
other like the ponderous lead at the other end."
In describing ironically, in this speech, the
qualifications of a modern good member of
parliament, he quotes the following rules for
what formerly made a good monk: "Tria fa-
ciunt monachum. Bene loqui de superiore. Legere
breviarium taliter qualiter, et sinere res vadere ut
vadunt:" which, applying to a member, he
translated so" Speak well of. the Minister;
read the lesson he sets you; and let the state
take care of itself." Such a quotation, respect-.
ing the qualifications of a monk, is not that of
a St. Omers papist.
These instances, among numberless others,
shew the opinion of Johnson, that Burke did not
possess wit, to be erroneous.
The following is part of his peroration on the
probable consequences of the influx of Indian
wealth if at the disposal of the Crown: "What
will become of us, if the Ganges pours in upon
us in a new tide of corruption? Should the evil
genius of British Liberty so ordain it, I fear this
house will be so far from removing the corrup-
tion of the East, that it will, itself, be from
*
[168]
the East corrupted. I fear more from the in-
fection of that place than I hope from your vir-
tue. Was it not the sudden plunder of the East
that gave the final blow to the freedom of Rome?
What reason have we to expect a better fate? I
attest, heaven and earth, that in all places, and
all times, I HAVE HITHERTO SHOVED BY THE
GILDED HAND OF CORRUPTION, and endeavoured
to stem the torrent which threatens to over-
whelm this island."
Although the friends of Burke must acknow-
ledge that sometimes the vigour of his fancy and
"the torrent of impetuous passion transported
him beyond the bounds of reason," his enemies
cannot disprove the truth of his assertion, "I
HAVE SHOVED BY CORRUPTION." If emolument
could have tempted him, can it be doubted that
a man of his extraordinary powers might have
had the most profitable offices? Can we suppose
that the Duke of Grafton and Lord North, both
of whom are known to have employed very in-
ferior men as literary and political supporters,
would not have given a very high price to pur-
chase the powers of Burke? If he had chosen the
opposite cause, his parliamentary and literary
talents might have been exercised in courting
the favour of the most opulent body in the
world: he might have promoted the violent
and inflammatory measures of the citizens of
London; their plans of a total change in Par-
liament, and their insolent abusive remon-
}
[169]
ཚ
¥
strances to the Sovereign: City appointments
of the most lucrative kind would have been the
sure rewards of sedition and disloyalty, arrayed
in all the charms of wit and eloquence.
€
The steady and powerful friend of rational
liberty, Burke was the determined enemy of
court corruption and of democratical licentious-
ness; directing his efforts against the one or
the other, as it happened at the time to require
resistance. It was his uniform opinion, that
eastern riches were producing a most important
and hurtful change in the manners and morals
of Britain; an opinion that became stronger
and stronger, as instances multiplied, and his
experience increased.
;
Although the act respecting India supervi-
sions passed by a considerable majority in par-
liament, it excited great clamours among many
of the proprietors. All parties, indeed, ad-
mitted that the Company was involved in pe-
cuniary difficulties; yet many said they were
only temporary; and that the restraint, imposed
on them by the new act, was merely to pro
mote ministerial purposes. The Ministry, how.
ever, proceeded to make many other regula-
tions, as remedies to the alledged disorders of
their finances. Burke joined his eloquence to
the precision and legal knowledge of Dunning,
and the commercial information of Johnstone,
in vigorously opposing the principle of the re-
gulations, and many of the details. One law
[170]
1
1
1
་
empowered the Company to export their teas,
duty free, wherever they could find a market.
The avowed object of this resolution was to
give relief to the India Company it was,
besides, the, intention of Ministry to increase
the import revenue from America.
ነ
There was this great difference between Lord
North and Burke, that Lord North could
perceive one class of objects and interests
separately, but seldom attended to their re
lation to other classes of objects and their
interests, and the probable effect to the nation
in general. Burke thoroughly comprehending
the separate interests of different members of
the state, grasped the whole in his mind, and
considered measures immediately affecting one
part, not only in their relation to that one part,
but to all the parts and to the whole, Lord
North considered the India Company and re-
venue only: Burke the interests of the whole
empire. He perceived that the Americans
would see the intention of the drawback on
exported tea, would persist in their asso-
ciations to resist its importation, although
lowered in price; because their objection was
not to the price but to the principle. He fore-
told that this new resolution would bring the
disputes to a crisis: and that Britain must
either entirely abandon the duty or enforce
taxation. From this alternative, he predict-
ed that commercial and political evils would
•
[171]
?
arise, which would altogether overbalance the
partial advantage to the revenue and to Indian
commerce. Partial and temporary expedients
are more adequate to the capacity of the majo-
rity of mankind, than great and comprehensive
counsels. Lord North's proposition was adopted.
The India Company sent out three ships for
Boston, laden with tea.
The Bostonians, on hearing of this cargo
and its destination, renewed the associations
into which they, in common with other colo-
nies, had entered. The populace tumultuous-
ly surrounded the houses of the consignees of
the tea, to frighten them from acting. When
the ships arrived, a meeting was held by the
Bostonians and the inhabitants of the neigh-
'bouring towns, at which it was determined
that the ships, with their cargoes, should be
- sent back. Notice of this resolution was given
to the Company's agents. Meanwhile, diffi-
culties arose* about sending off ships. A
clearance from the Custom-house could not be
obtained; they could not pass a fort that com-
manded the mouth of the harbour, without the
permission of the Governor, which he refused.
On this the meeting was dissolved, and there
was a general cry of "a mob! a mob!" A
number of armed men, disguised as Indians,
boarded the ships, and threw the cargoes into
the sea.
•
*See Stedman's History of the American War, vol. i. p. 87.
!
1
1
1
$
[172]
t
}
When the news of this outrage was brought
to England, it was communicated to Parlia
ment by a message from the King. Two things
were alledged by Ministers as necessary to be
insisted on satisfaction to the India Com-
pany for the injury they had sustained, and to
the honour of the British nation for the insult
it had received. For these purposes a bill was
proposed, to shut up the port of Boston, excepț
for stores for his Majesty's service, and the
necessaries of life for the inhabitants, untiļ
peace and good order should be restored, and
satisfaction made to the sufferers.
The bill, in its progress through the House
of Commons, met with very able and animated
opposition, especially from Mr. Dempster, Go:
vernor Johnstone, Colonel Barrè, and, most of
all, from Burke.
His speech on this occasion, independent of
its reasoning, in relation to the Boston-port
bill, may be considered as a history of the dis-
putes between England and the colonies previ-
ous to the irreconcileable quarrel. He con-
tended that, if the punishment was for resist-
ance, all the northern provinces were equally
repugnant to the authority of parliament: that
if the punishment was merited on account of
disaffection, all these provinces were equally
disaffected if the punishment was intended
merely on account of the outrage, there was
no evidence that all the Bostonians were con-
[173 1
cerned. Why then should they be ALL impli
cated in the punishment? Time should be al-
lowed for finding out the guilty, instead of hur-
rying the bill through parliament. The law
was inexpedient, as our own trade must suffer,
and not only by preclusion from Boston; but
that other colonies were equally inimical to the
tea duty as Massachuset, and had discontinued,
´or at least diminished, their trade with Britain.
In answer to that part which denied the justice
of punishing a whole city for the act of certain
inhabitants, Lord North alledged the analogy
of the law of England, which ordained that a
whole district should indemnify a person rob-
bed within its precincts, because its police, if
vigilant and active, might have prevented the
crime. He adduced also the case of the city of
Edinburgh, the whole inhabitants of which
had been fined for the riot of a part, in the case
of Porteus. * Burke shewed the diversity of
the cases of Boston and Edinburgh.
From his speeches, the following statement
of difference was drawn, and transcribed into
the periodical publications of the time.
* As some readers may not recollect this case, al-
though very noted, I shall mention it in a few words. A
riot having taken place in Edinburgh, in 1736, at the exe-
cution of a smuggler, the military were called in. Porteus,
their Captain, ordered them to fire before the hour was ex-
pired. Some persons were killed. Porteus was tried and
condemned for murder, but pardoned. A mob, incensed at
this pardon, seized Porteus, and hanged him.
[174]
1
PROCEEDINGS AGAINST
EDINBURGH.
Begun the 10th of Febru-
ary, 1737, and ended June
21st, having continued four
months.
The Provost and Magis-
trates of Edinburgh, the
Judges of Scotland, and many
other witnesses, examined at
the bar of the House.
Counsel and evidence for
the Magistrates and City
fully heard at the bar.
Two Members for Edin-
burgh, forty-five for Scot-
land, in the Lower House,
and sixteen in the Upper.
Charge-an overt act of
rebellion, and an atrocious
murder; proved on a full
hearing, and by competent
evidences.
Frequent conferences held
between the two Houses, to
compare the evidence, &c.
Punishment, a fine of 2000l.
{
BOSTON."
Begun the 14th, and ended
the 31st of March, 1774, be-
ing in all seventeen days.
Witnesses examined by the
Privy Council, and their evi-
dence suppressed.
The Agent refused a hear-
ing at the bar.
Not one Member for Bos-
ton in either House, nor for
all or any part of America,
nor even a voice in electing
onė.
Charge-a riot and tres-
pass; no evidence, and no
hearing.
Not one conference.
}
Punishment-the loss of
their port, to the injury of
the town, at the lowest rate,
500,000, the restoration of
their port, and the use of
t
1
1
[175]
1
Proof Journals of the
Lords and Commons, in 1737,
against Edinburgh and the
Bill.
F
}
·
their property left at the
King's mercy; after they
shall have paid for rotten
tea the price of sound, to
the amount of 30,000l.
Proof Journals of the
Lords and Commons, 1774,
and the Boston-port Bill.
April 19, 1774, a motion was made by Mr.
Rose Fuller, for repealing the tea duty. In
support of this proposition, Burke made a
speech more celebrated than any he had yet
spoken. This speech is generally known by the
title of Burke's Speech on American Taxation He
deduced the history of the American colonies,
and the policy of this country, from their first
settlement to the commencement of the present
reign. He demonstrated the advantages accru.
ing to this country from the old system of po-
licy, and shewed that the measures of this
King's Ministers were a deviation from that
system; a deviation injurious both to Britain
and the colonies. He divided our policy into
four parts, comprehending four periods ante-
cedent to Lord North's administration: first,
during former reigns, when Britain pursued
trade and forgot revenue; when the only restraint
imposed on America was the Navigation Act.
He winds up a most exact and masterly account
of the first period in the following words:
r
All this was done by England, whilst Eng-
*
}
[176]
+
**
1
n
land pursued trade, and forgot revenue. You
not only acquired commerce, but you actually
created the very objects of trade in America;
and by that creation you raised the trade of
this kingdom at least four fold. America had;
the compensation of your capital, which made
her bear her servitude. She had, except the
commercial restraint, every characteristic mark
of a free people in all her internal concerns.-
She had the image of the British constitution.-
She had the substance.she was taxed by her
own representatives. This whole state of com-
mercial servitude and civil liberty, taken toge
ther, is certainly not perfect freedom; but,
comparing it with the ordinary circumstances
of human nature, it was an happy and a liberal
condition."
The second period is that from the first idea
of a revenue from America to the Stamp A&t.
“A new scheme of government was adopted
(by court favouritism); a necessity was declared
of keeping up no less than twenty new regi-
ments, with twenty colonels capable of seats
in the House. Country gentlemen, the great
patrons of economy and the great resisters of a
standing armed force, would not have voted for
so large and expensive an army, if they had
been sure it was to be at their cost. But hopes
of another kind were held out to them; and in
particular I well remember, that Mr. Town-
shend, in a brilliant harangue on this subject,
C 154
]
1
dazzled them by playing before their eyes the
image of a revenue from America. Here be.
gan to dawn the first glimmerings of the new
colony system."
He pursues this new plan through Grenville's
administration, in the preceding regulations,
and the famous Stamp Act. This second pe-
'riod he calls that of begun revenue, and begun
disturbance. This brings him to the means for
allaying the disorders during the Rocking-
ham administration-the third period, which
he calls the period of repeal, of the restoration
of the ancient system, and of the ancient trán-
quillity and concord. From the third period
he goes on to the Revenue Act of the Grafton
administration, which he terms the fourth pe-
riod; that in which the conciliating policy of
the third was abandoned, and the irritating po-
licy of the second was revived."
In viewing the proceedings respecting the co-
lonies during this reign, he was 'led into an ex-
amination of the characters of the several mi-
nisters who conducted affairs since America
engrossed the attention of government: to
shew the influence of those characters in pro-
ducing their several measures. Perhaps it will
be difficult to find in any history more of
par-
ticular truth and general philosophy, more ac-
curate statement of fact, more profound assig-
nation of cause, than in the chief characters
which he draws. There is no sacrifice of truth
A 3
+
t
[178]
to rhetoric, by subtile opposition of qualities,
no mosaic contrasts, no introduction of pairs,
no studied choice of phrase, or measurement of
period; but, in clear, strong, though simple
language, developement of intellectual and
moral qualities, as modified by existing situa-
tion, proceeding from known causes, and dis-
played in counsels and actions.
Although his characters are generally known
and celebrated, I cannot refrain from insert-
ing those parts of them which led to the mea-
sures that he either censures or approves.
FROM THE CHARACTER OF GEORGE GRENVILLE, ESQ.
"With no small study of the detail, he did
not seem to have his view at least equally car-
ried to the whole circuit of affairs. He gene-
rally considered his objects in lights that were,
too detached. With a masculine understand-
ing, a stout resolute heart, he had constant ap-
plication, undissipated and unwearied. He took
public business not as a duty which he was to
fulfill, but as a pleasure he was to enjoy. If he
was ambitious, it was an ambition of a noble
and generous strain. It was to raise himself to
a well-earned rank in parliament: not by the
low pimping politics of a court, but to win his
way to power through the laborious gradations
of public service, and to secure to himself a well-
earned rank in parliament, by a thorough know-
ledge of its constitution, and a perfect practice
in all its business. If such a man fell into er-
[179]
rors, it must be from defects not intrinsical:
they must be rather sought in the particular ha
bits of his life, which, though they do not alter
the ground-work of a character, tinge it with
their own hue. He was bred in a profession:-
he was bred to the law, which is, in my opi-
nion, one of the first and noblest of human sci-
ences; a science, that does more to quicken
and invigorate the understanding than all the
other kinds of learning put together: but it is
not apt (except in persons very happily born)
to open and liberalize the mind exactly in the
same proportion. Passing from that study, he
did not go very largely into the world, but
plunged into business :-I mean the business of
office, and the limited and fixed methods and
forms established there. Much knowledge, no
doubt, is to be had in that line; and there is no
knowledge which is not valuable. But it may
be truly said, that men, too much conversant in
office, are rarely minds of remarkable enlarge-
ment. Their habits of office are apt to give
them a turn to think the substance of business
not to be much more important than the forms
by which it is to be conducted. These forms
are adapted to ordinary occasions; and there-
fore persons, who are nurtured in office, do ad-
mirably well as long as things continue in the
common order; but when the high roads are
broken up, and the waters out; when a new
and troubled scene is opened, and the file af-
[ 80 3
fords no precedent: then it is that a greater know-
ledge of mankind and a far more extensive com-
prehension of things is required, than ever
office gave, or office can ever give."
-The ingenious and profound Stewart, in his
"Elements of the Philosophy of the Human
Mind," quotes the latter part of this extract,
to illustrate the insufficiency of mere experi-
ence, without theory, to qualify a man for new
and untried situations in government. "The
observations (he remarks) Mr. Burke makes
on this subject are expressed with his usual
beauty and felicity of language; and are of sq
general a nature, that, with some trifling alte-
rations, they may be extended to all practical
pursuits of life."
K
Mr. Grenville, Burke afterwards shews, con-
sidered revenue too exclusively; and, from his
eagerness to improve the finances, laid the
foundation of much political evil to Britain.
In the character of Lord Rockingham Mr.
Burke discovers very great address, as he had
in Mr. Grenville's consummateability. He does
not dwell on the talents of his patron, but enters
into the detail of his measures, and deduces
them from patriotism and independence. He
lays the principal stress on the qualities of that
noble person's heart, as he was much more emi-
nently distinguished for his integrity and virtu
pus intentions, than for his parts and knowledge.
The character of the illustrious Chatham is
*
I 181 ]
}
not altogether so distinctive and complete a
picture as that of his friend, Mr. Grenville.
Burke draws that great man no farther than he
thinks necessary to account for his formation
of the Ministry which succeeded Lord Rock-
ingham's; but he gives a very striking descrip-
tion of the heterogeneous materials of that ad-
ministration. The state (he says) was de-
livered into the hands of Lord Chatham-a
great and celebrated name; a name that keeps
the name of this country respectable in every
other globe. It may be truly called
1
Clarum et venerabile nomen,
Gentibus, et multum nostræ quod proderat urbi.
"Sir, the venerable age of this great man, his
merited rank, his superior eloquence, his splen-
did qualities, his eminent services, the vast
space he fills in the eye of mankind, and, more
than all the rest, his fall from power, which,
like death, canonizes and sanctifies a great cha-
racter, will not suffer me to censure any part
of his conduct. But what I do not presume to
censure, I may have leave to lament. FOR A
WISE MAN, HE SEEMED to me, at that time, to be
GOVERNED TOO MUCH BY GENERAL MAXIMS.
I
speak with the freedom of history, and, I hope,
without offence. One or two of these maxims,
flowing from an opinion not the most indulgent
to our unhappy species, and surely a little too
general, led him into measures that were greatly
mischievous to himself; and for that reason.
[182]
among others, perhaps fatal to his country:
measures, the effects of which, I am afraid, are
for ever incurable. He made an administra-
tion, so chequered and speckled; he put together
a piece of joinery, so crossly indented and
whimsically dovetailed; a cabinet so variously
inlaid; such a piece of diversified mosaic; such
a tesselated pavement without cement-here a
bit of black stone, and there a bit of white-
patriots and courtiers; Kings, friends, and
republicans; Whigs and Tories; treacherous
friends and open enemies ;-that it was indeed
a very curious shew, but utterly unsafe to
touch, and unsure to stand on. The colleagues
whom he had assorted at the same boards,
stared at each other, and were obliged to ask,
1
Sir, your name ?-Sir you have the advantage
of me.-Mr. Such-a-one,-I beg a thousand
pardons.' I venture to say, it did so happen,
that persons had a single office divided between
them, who had never spoke to each other in
their lives; until they found themselves, they
knew not how, pigging together, heads and
points, in the same truckle-bed."*
The picture of Charles Townshend is just,
*The remark concerning maxims came with peculiar
propriety from Burke, of whose wisdom it was a distinguish-
ing characteristic, not to adopt any general principle impli-
citly, but to modify its application according to the diversity
of circumstances.
1
[183]
!
}
discriminative, animated, and strong. He is
drawn a man of great talents; but from an im-
moderate passion for fame, rather employing
his abilities in supporting measures and prin-
ciples most in vogue, than in devising or main-
taining the wisest and most salutary. "He
worshipped (said Burke) that goddess (Fame)
wheresoever she appeared; but paid his parti-
cular devotion to her in her favourite habita-
tion, in her chosen temple,-in the House of
Commons. Perhaps there never arose a man
in this country of a more pointed and finished
wit, and (where his passions were not concern-
ed) of a more refined, exquisite, and penetrat.
ing judgment. If he had not so great a stock,
as some who flourished formerly, of knowledge
long treasured up, he knew, by far better than
any man I am acquainted with, how to bring
together, within a short time, all that was ne-
cessary to establish, to illustrate, and to deco-
rate that side of the question which he support.
ed. He stated his matter skilfully and power-
fully. He particularly excelled in the most
luminous explanation and display of his sub-
jects. His style of argument was neither trite
and vulgar, nor subtile and abstruse. He hit
the house between wind and water. Not being
troubled with too anxious a zeal for any matter
in question, he was never more tedious and
more earnest, than the preconceived opinions
and present temper of his hearers required, to
t
[184]
}
¿
whom he was always in perfect unison. He
conformed exactly to the temper of the house;
and he seemed to guide, because he was always
sure to follow." The effects of such a charac-
ter, minding the currency and not the weight of
opinions, Burke shews in the inconstancy of
Townshend's political conduct. He voted for
the Stamp Act while it was popular; when it
became disliked, he voted for the repeal: and
when that repeal became unpopular, he voted
for raising a revenue from America.
Of the characters, those of Mr. Townshend
and Mr. Grenville appear to me the most high.
ly finished.
Townshend's distinguished for
truth and discrimination; Grenville's for truth,
discrimination, and philosophy.
In speaking of the conduct of the North
Ministry, he makes an observation, of which the
converse applies to himself: "Never have the
servants of the State looked at the whole of
your complicated interests in one connected
view they have taken things by bits and
scraps, just as they pressed, without any regard
to their relations and dependencies: they never
had any system, right or wrong; but only oc-
casionally invented some miserable tale of the
day; in order meanly to sneak out of difficul-
ties, into which they had proudly strutted."
Burke himself, on the contrary, took the whole
of a subject, and all its parts and dependen-
cies, into consideration. Whenever he was
[185]
{
}
*
right, his speeches contained a series of causes
and effects, antecedents and consequents: they
were chains of massy steel, at once strong and
brilliant. Whenever he was wrong, he was
systematically wrong; the parts were at least
congruous. Si non sunt vera saltem sunt inter se
apta.
Burke descanted with wonderful eloquence
on the inconsistency of Ministry, in proposing,
at the same time, addresses and resolutions de-
claring America in a state of rebellion, and
conciliatory bills: acts repealing and coercive;
soothing and irritating. "You send out (he
said) an angel of peace, but you send out a
destroying angel along with him; and what
will be the effects of the conflict of these ad-
verse spirits is what I dare not say whether
the lenient measures will cause passion to sub-
side, or the severer increase its fury: all this
Is in the hands of Providence: yet now, even
now, I should confide in the prevailing virtue
and efficacious operation of lenity, though
working in darkness and in chaos. In the
midst of this unnatural and turbid combina-
tion, I should hope it might produce order and
beauty in the end."
The great mind of Burke most thoroughly
despised mere courtiers, or, as he called them,
household troops,-the parrots of court no-
tions and court stories. "Sir, this vermin of
court reporters, when they are forced into day,
B b
[186]
!
upon one point, are sure to burrow in another;
but they shall have no refuge: I will make
them bolt out of all their holes." In the same
speech, Burke manifests a feature in his charac-
ter, long afterwards noticed by his very able op-
ponent, Mr. Mackintosh: an abhorrence
for abstract politics and a dread of innovation."
"I am not (says Burke) going into the distinc-
tion of rights, nor attempting to mark,their
boundaries. I do not enter into these meta-
physical distinctions; I hate the very sound of
them. Leave the Americans as they anciently
stood, and these distinctions, born of our un-
happy contest, will die along with it. They,
and we, and their and our ancestors, have been
happy under that system. Oppose the ancient
policy and practice of the empire as a rampart
against the speculations of innovators, and they
will stand on a manly and sure ground."
Whether we consider this speech of Burke as
a display of the most creative genius, as an ex-
planation of the subject in debate, as a chain
of reasoning to prove propositions of the high-
est importance to the hearers and their con-
stituents, as antecedents from which the con-
sequences he drew actually did proceed, or as
affording motives which ought to have induced
them to the conduct he recommended, it is one
of the ablest orations to be met with in any
language. Besides being replete with means
}
1
{
[187]
adapted to the main end of conviction, and also
of persuasion, were men always persuaded by
a striking exhibition of their duty and inte-
rest, it has other distinguished excellencies: it
displays a most penetrating and profound
knowledge of human character and its effects:
it abounds also in the soundest principles of
morality. Transcendent excellence, logical,
political, and philosophical, as this oration con-
tains, embellished, enlivened, and elevated
as it is by the most beautiful, animated, and
grand imagery, which a POET's genius could
produce, a hypercritical rhetorician might pro-
bably discover some violations of the rules of
his art. The rapidity of Burke's genius fre-
quently produces a mixture of plain and figu-
gurative language, and also a confusion of
figures, which a slower mind, with an ordi-
nary recollection of common-place precepts,
would have avoided. Thus, (says Burke,
after having confuted vague reports circulated
by court-hirelings) are blown away the insect-
race of courtly falsehoods! Thus perish the
miserable inventions of the wretched runners for
a wretched cause, which they have fly-blown
into every weak and rotten part of the country,
in vain hopes that when their maggots had
taken wing, their importunate buzzing might
sound something like the public voice." A
rhetorician might probably tell us that the
falsehoods are considered first metaphorically
1
'
}
}
[168]
1
*
as insects, again literally as inventions, and im-
mediately afterwards as insects, all in the same
sentence. Critics of more intellectual expan,
sion than verbal minuteness might reply, that
the figure, whether rhetorically accurate or
not, yet, produces the intended effect of excit-
ing contempt.
+
}
f
A second bill respecting. American affairs
was now proposed. From the disorders in
Massachuset's Bay, it was asserted by Ministers
that the civil government of that province was
inadequate to the remedy of the alledged de
fects it was proposed to enact a law to deprive
the lower House of Assembly of the privilege of
electing the members of the council, and to yest
that power in the Crown; and also to yest, in
the King or Governor the appointment of ma-
gistrates and judges. This bill was vigorously
opposed by many members. Burke contended
that there was no evidence to justify such a de-
viation from the constitution of the colonies,
and such an accession of power to the Crown.
A third act was proposed for empowering the
Governor, with advice of council, to send to
England, to be tried, any person who,, in, the
support of the revenue laws, or suppression of
riots, should be charged with murder. We
find no speech of Burke upon this bill. A fourth
act was proposed for the government of Canada,
to secure to the inhabitants the Roinan Catholic
religion, to its clergy the tithes, to supersede
*
?
[189]
t
}
trial by jury, to re-establish the French mode
in its place, and to appoint a council dependent
on the King's pleasure. This bill originated
in the House of Lords. In opposing it in the
House of Commons, Burke principally gave
vent to his humour, in which, though he abound,
ed, it seldom formed the leading characteristic
of any of his speeches.
During the recess after this session, Burke
received, at Beaconsfield, a visit from his friend
Johnson. On viewing Burke's beautiful villa,
he exclaimed, in the words of the exiled Man-
tuan to the restored Virgil,
.
Non equidem in video miror magis.
Although these two great men had frequently
political disputes in town, here there was no
altercation. The polite host refrained from
subjects of contention. The guest had so much
breeding as to abstain from unprovoked attacks,
în his own house, on a man of the most enga-
ging hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Burke exerted
themselves to please their illustrious visitor,
whom Mr. Burke venerated for kindred genius,
and his lady, because so prized by her husband;
and so effectually studied his pleasure, that he
declared he never passed his time with so much
delight and instruction, Indeed, the sole con
vérsation of each other must have been, to those
eminent personages, a treat which they seldom
experienced. In town they often met, but
though generally in company respectable for
4
[190]
talents and knowledge, far inferior to them.
selves.
Burke's attention to the sage did not prevent
him from bestowing every mark of polite at-
tention on his other guests. He, as a landlord,
exercised that hospitality which is the result
of good sense and good dispositions, polished
by an extensive intercourse with the politest
society; dividing his attention to his different
guests, and drawing every one of them to con-
verse on the subjects with which he knew them
best acquainted. Mrs. Thrale, who might very
probably construe the politeness of Burke into
an admiration of those talents and acquirements
with which she herself and many others believed
her to be endowed, declares it was a most de-
lightful party. Burke made his guests pleased
with themselves, with each other, and conse-
quently with their entertainer. Although his
fulness could not avoid venting itself, yet did
he manage his conversation so as not to mor-
tify others by a sense of their inferiority, or
overbear them with his powers. They felt
they were delighted, and knew they were
instructed by the discourse, without being
drawn to a humiliating comparison with the
speaker. He never brought his strength to a
comparative trial, unless provoked by an attack,
nor indeed always then.
f
Mrs. Thrale, who has been more careful in
marking the defects of her friend's manners
"
[1911
1
than the perfections of his understanding, the
former being, probably, more within the reach
of her observation than the latter, mentions a
strange compliment paid by Johnson to Burke
at parting. The general election called them
all different ways. Mr. Burke being to set out
for Bristol, to stand candidate, for which he
had been invited by a great majority of the
'electors-Johnson, taking him by the hand,
said, "Farewell, my dear Sir! and remember
that I wish you all the success which ought to
be wished you, which can possibly be wished you
by an honest man ;" words containing an insi-
nuation not very polite to his kind host. Burke
took no notice of that mark of his friend's breed-
ing. Though the high church bigotry of Johnson
made him an enemy to the politics of a philoso-
phical Whig, yet he continued uniformly a friend
to Burke; and the praises of Edmund was one
of his favourite themes. As he launched out one
day at Streatham on his merits, an Irish trader
present was so delighted to hear his country-
man so praised by one whom he heard to
be the wisest man in England, said to the
Doctor," give me leave to tell you something
of Mr. Burke." He began-" Mr. Burke went
to see the collieries in a distant province; and
he would go down, Sir, into the bowels of the
earth (in a bag), and he would examine every
thing he went in a bag, Sir, and ventured his
life for knowledge; but he took care of his
122
}
[192]
clothes, that they should not be spoiled, for he
went down in a bag." Well, Sir, (said John-
son, good humoured) if our friend Mund.
should die in any of these hazardous exploits,
you and I would write his life and panegyric
together; and your chapter of it should be en-
titled thus-" Burke in a bag."
This year Johnson and Burke lost their friend
Goldsmith, whom they both loved and regard-
ed; his mérits much overbalancing his foibles
and defects. Dr. Johnson wrote the Latin epi-
taph, which is so well known.
$
The club had now considerably increased
its numbers, and received several members
destined to act a conspicuous part on the great
political stage, whom I shall mention when
I come to their performance on that theatre.
A party of eleven gentlemen dined one
day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, all, except Sir
William Forbes, acquainted with Goldsmith ;
all men of great respectability, some of them
of literary eminence short only of Johnson's,
and one equal to the sage. The conversation
turned on Johnson's epitaph, and various altera-
tions and corrections were suggested. But the
question was who should have the courage to
propose them to the author. At last it was
resolved that there could be no way so good as
that of a Round Robin.
Dr. Barnard, now Bishop of Limerick, drew
up an address to Johnson on the occasion, which,
it was feared by the rest, the Doctor might
[198]
think treated the subject with too much levity.
Burke then proposed the address. as it stands
in the Round Robin, and Sir William Forbes
officiated as clerk. *
!
Round Robin addressed to Samuel Johnson, L.L.D.
drawn up by Edmund Burke.
"We, the circumscribers, + having read with
great pleasure, an intended Epitaph for the
Monument of Dr. Goldsmith; which, consi-
dered abstractly, appears to be, for elegant
composition and masterly style, in every re-
spect worthy of the pen of its learned author;
are yet of opinion, that the character of the de-
ceased as a writer, particularly as a poet, is
perhaps not delineated with all the exactness
which Dr. Johnson is capable of giving it. We
therefore, with deference to his superior judg-
ment, humbly request that he would, at least,
take the trouble of revising it; and of making
such additions and alterations as he shall think
proper, upon a farther perusal. But if we might
venture to express our wishes, they would lead
us to request that he would write the epitaph
* Boswell's Life of Johnson.
+ The Robin was written within a circle, formed by the
names of Edmund Burke, Thomas Franklin, Anthony Cha-
mier, G. Colman, Will. Vaskell, Joshua Reynolds, William
Forbes, T. Barnard, R. B. Sheridan, P. Metcalfe, E. Gibbon,
Joseph Warton.
сс
1
1
[194].
}
}
in English, rather than in Latin: as we think
that the memory of so eminent, an English
writer ought to be perpetuated in the language
to which his works are likely to be so lasting an
ornament; which we also know to have been
the opinion of the late Doctor himself."
Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to Dr. Johnson,
who received it with great good humour; and
desired Sir Joshua to tell the gentlemen that
he would alter the epitaph in any manner they
pleased as to the sense of it; but he would never
consent to disgrace the walls of Westminster Abbey
with an English epitaph: and, observing Dr.
Warton's name among the circumscribers, said
to Sir Joshua, "I wonder that Joe Warton, a
scholar by profession, should be such a fool."
The epitaph, as first. written by Johnson, is
engraved on Goldsmith's monument without
any alteration.
Mr. Boswell very justly remarks, that "this
hasty composition is one of the many instances
which evince the extraordináry promptitude of
Burke, who, whilst he was equal to the greatest
things, can adorn the least; can with equal
facility embrace the vast and complicated spe-
culations of politics, or the ingenious topics of
literary investigation." This anecdote also
shews the veneration some very eminent men,
and even Burke himself, entertained for John-
son. Indeed the request is expressed with much
more humility than was necessary. They must
}
{
+
[195]
1
be excessive admirers of Johnson, who would
think so humble a style due to him from seve-
ral of the signers; or that would suppose that
any thing short of perfect equality was requisite,
even to Samuel Johnson, from Edmund Burke.
Such instances of humble address justify the ob-
servation of Dr. Robertson to Boswell, re-
specting the deportment of his intimates to
Dr. Johnson: "You worship and spoil him
among you. He is certainly a man of very
great powers of conversation, an able philoso-
phical critic, and a, masterly moral essayist:
but in other respects not beyond other men.
He has many weaknesses, and will believe any
thing against the Dissenters and for the church
of England." Dr. Robertson probably thought
that, as a political writer, Johnson did not dis-
play that superiority which he shewed in moral
reflections and in criticism.
The genius, wisdom, and learning of Burke
did not prevent him from entertaining some
opinions totally unfounded. Through life he
had certain prepossessions, to which he was
warmly attached, and respecting which, though
in most of his conversations he was mild and
unassuming, he could brook no contradiction.
He most strenuously denied the Irish massacre:
he said it was all a fiction. Being at one time
intimately acquainted with Hume, he used to
battle this point with him with great zeal:
when pressed hard by the strong testimony and
196
powerful arguments adduced by Hume, he
used to say that the testimony proved nothing;
and to quote an absurd story, to which, he af-
firmed, thousands of Irish most confidently bore
witness, "that the ghosts of numbers of those
that had been killed, and thrown into the Shan-
non, often, made their appearance on the banks
of the river, to the great disturbance of the
neighbourhood." This mode of reasoning, that
one believed a portion of history was false, be-
cause a story obviously false had been believed,
was certainly very unworthy of Burke, and
very unlikely to convince Hume; although he
himself, when it favours his own prejudices,
reasons in the same manner.* I am assured that
Hume alludes to Burke in the following note
to the 5th volume of the History of England:
There are three events in our history which
may be regarded as touchstones of party men,
An English Whig, who asserts the reality of
the popish plot; an Irish Catholic, who denies
the massacre in 1641; and a Scotch Jacobite,
who maintains the innocence of Queen Mary;
must be considered as men beyond the reach
of argument, and must be left to their own
prejudices."
In his Essay on Miracles, when he argues, from the
many absurd stories of particular miracles told by priests,
that miracles in general are incapable of proof from tes-
timony.
+
3
[197]
So great is the inequality often to be found
in men of the highest genius, that Burke could
not bear to have this favourite notion attacked.
There were three subjects on which he could
not speak without being transported into a rage,
as violent as Johnson, if Whigs were praised,
the Americans defended, or Episcopacy cen-
sured: Burke's were, through life, the Irish
massacre; during the latter part of it, the con-
duct of Hastings, and the French revolution.
He never forgave Hume; and I am informed
that, even so late as the last Christmas, he saw
in conversation with a Counsellor of the first
talents, he inveighed most bitterly against the
historian for having alluded to him in his note.
Burke's speech on American taxation was now
published, and greatly increased, through the
nation, the praise of his wonderful talents. Not
those only who coincided in his political senti-
ments, but the most strenuous abettors of the
plans of Administration allowed its uncommon
excellency.
The eloquence of Burke has been frequently
compared to that of Cicero. There is, no doubt,
a general resemblance between two of the most
learned men and greatest orators of the most
learned and eloquent ages and countries. Both
are men of extraordinary genius: both had
acquired an uncommon share of the knowledge
of their respective times, and especially of the
knowledge most necessary for political disqui-
[198
sition and eloquent orations: both are com-
pletely informed on the subjects which they
undertake to discuss: both reason with great
force and dexterity, arguing closely or loosely,
directly or circuitously, as best answered their
purpose.
We may consider these two great orators, in
point of materials, disposition, language, and
the purposes to which their respective eloquence
was directed. The different circumstances of
the times necessarily produced a very consi-
derable difference in the materials of their elo-
quence. The extent and complication of mo-
dern politics required a proportionate com-
prehension and variety of materials from
the British senator, which the more simple
relations of ancient politics did not require
from the Roman. Besides more multifari-
ous detail, the philosophy of politics is now
much farther advanced than in the time of
Cicero. There is much more of generaliza-
tion in politics, as in all subjects. To compose
eloquent orations, in the age of Cicero, required
neither the same extent and multiplicity of
knowledge, nor enlargement of views, as in the
age
of Burke. On the other hand, it now re-
quires less ability to procure multiplicity of
knowledge; because, in fact, there is much
more to be attained; and less native vigour of
mind to generalize, because habits of generali-
zation are common. Cicero's most distinguished
orations were judicial, a species of oratory re-
{
[199]
quiring not so wide a compass of materials as
deliberative even the questions of deliberation
among the Romans, who were merely a nation
of warriors and conquerors, with little com-
merce, intrigue, and little variety of relation
to foreign states; hardly indeed any other than
those which proceeded from command. Their
situation afforded less variety of deliberative
matter than the Grecian republics, and much
less than England.
The principal deliberative oration of Cicero,
as far as I can recollect, is that (pro lege Mani-
lia) on the expediency of appointing Pompey
to succeed Lucullus, with extraordinary pow-
ers. This speech turned, first, on the compa-
rative merit of the two generals, as it was easy
for the Romans to conquer Mithridates, if they
had able commanders, desirous of terminating
the war. Secondly, on the personal character
of Pompey, as likely to be affected by unlimited
authority. The facts ascertaining the merits of
the two leaders were not difficult to collect, as
they were recent in every one's memory. The
character of Pompey was well known; and for
Cicero's purposes, the chief object was exaggera-
tion. Cicero certainly gives his materials that
order and direction which was most likely to
procure the recall of Lucullus and the appoint-
ment of Pompey. But on perusing the oration
prolege Manilia, and Burke's speech on Ameri-
can taxation, and estimating them by the true
criterion of speeches on momentous business,
[200]
the quantity of important, particular,and general
´truth, of information and instruction, which they
contain, it appears to me that the stores of
Burke's mind, as exhibited in this speech, are
greater than those ofCicero. If we take all Cicero's
speeches and all Burke's, and compare them in
the degree of knowledge and wisdom which they
convey, I think few would hesitate to say, that
a reader might become more knowing and
wiser by Burke's than by Cicero's. Much of
this, however, arises from causes not peculiar to,
Burke, but appertaining to this age and country.
The reasoning of Cicero is frequently very
acute, and generally very ingenious; but his
arguments not rarely are taken from common-
place topics, sources so much recommended by
ancient rhetoricians, but reprobated by the
moderns. Indeed these common-place ideas
were much better calculated to answer the par-
ticular purpose of their inventors, the Grecian
sophists, to speak plausibly on any subject,
than the general purpose of a wise orator, to
impress on the hearers important truths, and
to prompt them to beneficial conduct. With
many excellent arguments, resulting from a
close consideration of the subject, Cicero often
mixes those that are suggested by the rhetori-
cal precepts in vogue. Burke's reasoning is de-
rived never from common-place topics, but al-
ways from the most minute and extensive view
of the subject, in all its relations, and scientific
1
+
1
[201]
}
knowledge of the general principles applicable
to the questions in discussion, with the modifi.
cations arising from the particular circumstan-
çes of the case. Mixed with very great intel-
lectual force, there is, in Cicero's argumenta-
tive materials, much of that rhetorical art, the
knowledge and application of which requires
no extraordinary power of understanding.—
Burke's argumentative materials derive little
aid from rhetorical art. Both shew an under-
standing capable of investigating hidden truths:-
Burke had actually investigated more than Ci-
cero.
Another species of materials that tends to
illustrate truth, and embellish eloquence, is
imagery. In imagery, Burke is much more
copious and variegated than Cicero. Superior
copiousness, however, of imagery does not ne-
cessarily imply superior fertility of imagination:
the power of combination being equal, he will
most easily combine who has the most copious
materials. If there be two men of equal powers
of imagination, and the one knows history and
ethics, the other history and ethics equally well,
and physics besides, the latter may have with
ease more abundant imagery than the former.
The sources of imagery are more numerous to
the moderns, because knowledge is greater.-
But when we particularly examine the imagery
of Cicero and of Burke, we find Burke's to be
much more abundant, not only from the storeş
D d
[202]
of modern discovery and practice, but from those
of external and moral nature, known in the
time of Cicero, and at all times. Hence we may
fairly infer that the imagination of Burke, was
naturally more fertile than that of Cicero. In
the imagery, as well as the arguments of Cicero,
an attentive reader will find more of rhetorical
art than in Burke's. Cicero deals niore in anti-
thesis, climax, interrogation,—the productions
of study: Burke, in metaphor, personification,
apostrophe, the effusions of genius. Burke
not only abounds in serious imagery, but in
those combinations which constitute wit: in
wit, Cicero seldom succeeds, but frequently de-
scends to puns. Wit, indeed, in general bears-
a greater proportion to the intellectual exer-
tions of our countrymen than to those of the
Romans. In humour, both the orators are very
happy, though both are sometimes very coarse.
In the pathetic, Cicero's orations abound more
frequently than Burke's. Cicero's perrorations
are highly wrought up, especially in his ha-
rangues to the people. Indeed it is to such au-
diences that pathos is properly used to inform-
ed British gentlemen it would be absurd to
speak to their feelings, but through their un-
derstandings. When Burke is pathetic, his
pathos equals that of Cicero, or any orator.
Both Cicero and Burke abound in the purest
morality, though the former frequently, and
the latter sometimes, defended men by no means
+
I 203 ]
ནོ
+
moral in their conduct. Cicero's speeches were
filled with egotism; a defect from which Burke's
are exempt: Burke's with ebullitions of rage,
which are seldom found in Cicero's.
In the disposition of their materials, both
shew great judgment and skill, though Cicero
displays more, art, and a more regular atten-
tion to rhetorical rules for the conduct of a discourse.
In their exordiums, both have a great degree of
insinuation; both tend to prepossess their hear-
but Cicero's introductions are generally
more laboured than Burke's. The narrative
part of Cicero's orations is no doubt very ex-
cellent, clear, concise, yet full; omitting no-
thing important, and seldom introducing any
thing extraneous: they are the well told state-
ments of an able lawyer. Burke's narratives
are also extremely clear on the whole, and dis-
tinct in their several parts. His subjects gene-
rally require a greater compass of narration
than Cicero's: they comprehend larger portions
of time, more variety of events, and greater in-
tricacy of relations. He excells in detailing
particulars, in marking the principal epochs,
in classing his subjects according to their re-
spective relations, and in shewing causes and
effects. His narratives are the abridged histo-
ries of a philosophical historian.
In the management of arguments, Burke
may perhaps be esteemed less regular than Ci-
cero: his narrative and argumentative parts
>
[204]
}
are often blended. Cicero is more methodical,
and arranges his arguments in a more connect.
ed series, so that the one may support the other.
From Cicero's arrangement, a reader may
sooner comprehend the whole of his reasoning,
than from Burke's the whole of his reasoning:
and in that particular Cicero is, no doubt, su-
perior to Burke. It may be said, that the 'hear-
ers of Cicero.not being so well informed and
enlightened men as those of Burke, the most
exact and luminous order was absolutely neces
sary to convey the arguments with effect to their
minds: whereas, Burke's hearers, if the arga.
ments were intrinsically good, could perceive
their force, though not arranged with the great;
est art, and in the closest connection. It may
also be alledged, that Cicero himself is less scru
pulously attentive to lucid order, in his speeches
against Catiline, and other orations to the se-
nate, than in that for Manilius's bill, and other
harangues to the people. But as even the ablest
and most learned men, though they can com.
prehend arguments, independently of their dis-
position, yet can more quickly comprehend
them if connected than detached, Cicero's ar.
rangement is better than Burke's. In some of
his principal speeches, Burke's disposition is as
regular as that of Cicero,
Language also appears to have occupied a
greater proportion of Cicero's attention than of
Burke's; his words and phrases are nicely
}
!
[ 205 ]
chosen, his sentences are dexterously turned,
his style is harmonious, elegant, and splendid:
Burke's language is chiefly eminent for clear-
ness, propriety, copiousness, and force: he
does not particularly study musical cadence in
the structure of his periods: his style is highly
adorned, but his ornaments are the ornaments
of genius, not of rhetoric; not of the body, but
of the soul of his discourse. On the whole, the
mechanism of composition was evidently more
studied by Cicero than by Burke. Cicero aims
so much at beauty and magnificence, as some-
times to impair his strength: for smoothness
and harmony he is not unfrequently indebted to
enervation. Very great attention to rhetoric
is seldom united with masculine strength and
profound philosophy, In the flowing num-
bers of Isocrates we rarely meet the force of
Demosthenes. Perhaps in none of his writings
does Cicero shew more the uncommon vigour of
his understanding; his complete knowledge of
human nature; his intimate acquaintance with
the laws and constitution of his country, with its
politics during that momentous æra; his com-
prehension of the general characters and par-
ticular views of the celebrated actors during
the last scene of the republic, than in his
letters: compositions containing the most va
luable information, most acute and energetic
reasoning, without any of his oratorial pomp
of language. They are the plain strong sense
[206]
1
of a most able man, writing upon important
business. Cicero was certainly a man not only
of the greatest penetration and vigour, but also
of very profound philosophy and expanded
wisdom. His treatises on the most important
subjects of philosophy, on the religious, civil,
social, and political relations and duties of
man, have little ornament of style: the lan-
guage is merely perspicuous, precise, and strong.
The expression of Cicero's letters and philo-
sophical disquisitions is more the expression
of wisdom than that of his orations.
In their speeches, Burke's obvious end is to
impress on you his views of the subject: Cice-
ro's not only to impress on you his views of the
subject, but strike you with an admiration of
the orator. Burke tries to inform, convince,
please, and persuade the hearer: Cicero to in-
form, convince, please, affect, and persuade
the hearer; and at the same time to shew him
how well the speaker can speak. In many of his
speeches, the display of his powers seems to
have been his principal object: in his defence
of Milo it must have been his sole purpose, be-
cause, in fact, it was never spoken.
From the diversity of circumstances, much
similarity in materials neither did, nor indeed
could, exist between these or any British and
Roman orators. In the conduct of their speeches
there might have been likeness; but in fact we
do not find very much. In his performances
of unadorned information and instruction,
1
[ 207 ]
み
​Cicero resembles the narratives and ratiocina-
tion of Burke, more than in his ornamented
eloquence: even in these the likeness is not
special. Where conviction is the sole object,
they agree in using plain language, as the best
adapted for that purpose. Being both men of
extraordinary wisdom, they, upon practical
subjects, argue as ALL MEN OF TRUE Wisdom ar-
GUE,-from experience, and not from metaphysical
distinction. They were both first-rate speakers,
according to the circumstances of their respec-
tive situations and countries: but their compo-
sitions were no more particularly like than
those of Hume and Fergusson to those of Taci-
tus; of Robertson or of Gibbon to Livy's: be-
cause the four Britons resembled the two Ro-
mans in the general circumstance of being the
first historians of their nation. Men of such
genius as Cicero and Burke rarely descend to
imitation. Johnson being asked if Edmund
Burke resembled Tullius Cicero" No, Sir,
he resembles Edmund Burke."
A considerable party of merchants and
tradesmen of Bristol, chiefly Dissenters, ad-
miring the eloquence of Burke, and looking
upon him, from his political conduct, as stre-
nuously attached to civil and religious liberty,
named him a candidate for their city. He was
gone to Malton, a Yorkshire borough, under
the influence of the Marquis of Rockinghamı;
and was actually chosen, when a deputation ar-
=
[208]
rived to request him to stand for Bristol. With
the consent of his new constituents, he con
plied. There were already three candidates:
`Lord Clare and Mr. Brickdale, the late mem-
bers; and Mr. Cruger, an American merchant.
Burke, when he first appeared on the hustings,
made a very eloquent and impressive speech,
admirably adapted to the hearers.
He en-
larged upon the immense advantages of com-
merce, and shewed himself thoroughly ac
quainted with its branches, objects, and prin-
ciples, and accurately informed respecting the
trade of Bristol. At the conclusion of the
poll he displayed still more captivating elo-
quence. He and Mr. Cruger were elected.
Mr. McCormick says, "that notwithstand-
ing his panegyrics on trade, Burke really did
not respect the character of a merchant; and
quotes a passage from one of his speeches to
shew Burke's opinion: "Do not talk to me (he
said) of the liberality and patriotism of a mer-
chant; his god is his gold; his country his in-
voice; his desk his altar; his ledger his bible;
his church his exchange; and he has faith in
none but his banker." Mr. McCormick thinks
that such an opinion of the mercantile profes<
sion is incompatible with sincerity in the
praises of trade. But, it by no means follows,
that a conviction of the utility of an employ-
ment must be accompanied with a conviction
of the great abilities or great virtue necessary
[209]
to exercise that employment. Burke, though
he did not, and indeed could not, think either
extraordinary talents or extraordinary good-
ness necessary to form a merchant, thought
well of the mercantile character, modified by
the circumstances, manners, and sentiments
of this country. The tendency of great con-
versancy with money has so much relation to
the abilities and knowledge of the person so
conversant, that it would be difficult to make it
the subject of a general rule. It certainly in-
creases the natural contraction of narrow un-
derstandings; but often expands great minds:
it leads them to form projects of extensive uti-
lity, by having the means in their view and
power. Commerce, probably, like other objects
of thought, has a tendency to expand or con-
tract, according to its mode. In its petty de-
tails, it, no doubt, must contract the under-
standing; but enlarges it in its general
schemes, the result of extensive information,
calculation of probabilities, and accurate and
acute investigation. We find also that it often
liberalizes conduct. In no nation do men ap-
ply themselves so readily and powerfully to the
assistance and relief of their fellow men, as in
the country in which commerce is most preva-
lent. By no set of men is service better re-
compensed than by British merchants.
The idea that Burke thought meanly of mer-
chants probably originated from the opinion
Ee
>
警
​[ 210 J
he entertained of stock-jobbers, and other gam-
blers, contractors, Indian depredators, and all
those who suddenly amassed great fortunes by
fraud and peculation, instead of gradually
saving money by industry, economy, and
skill.
WX
Burke's colleague, Cruger, was, it would ap-
pear, a man of no very copious eloquence. It
is even reported, that after Burke had deliver-
ed one of his best speeches at Bristol, Cruger
rose up, and exclaimed, " I say ditto to Mr.
Burke-I say ditto to Mr. Burke."
The new parliament now met, and, probably,
no age or country ever shewed a greater assem
blage of talents.
On the side of Government, among many
men of parts and knowledge, were ranged-
Germaine, distinguished for closeness, correct-
ness, and neatness; Jenkinson, for industry,
commercial and political information; Dundas,
for strong understanding, sticking to the point,
and expeditious dispatch of difficult business;
Wedderburne, eminent for acuteness, versati-
lity, and ingenuity; Lord North, equally re-
markable for pleasing variegated wit, huniour,
classical taste, and knowledge, as for dexte-
rity of argument and readiness of reply;
Thurlow, surpassing all his coadjutors in deci-
sion and masculine strength.
- On the side of Opposition there was the pa-
triotism and solidity of Dempster and Saville;
{
[ 11 ]
the Industry and colonial information of Pow-
hal; the colloquial pleasantry, the vivacity, and
Classical erudition of Wilkes; the animated
declamation of Barre, the quick apprehen-
sion, coniinercial and political knowledge of
Johnstone; the constitutional principles, legal
precision, readiness, acuteness; and vigour of
Dunning; the extensive; accurate, and multi-
farious knowledge; the brilliant, variegated;
and grand imagery; the luminous illustration,
the rapid invention, the clear, strong, diversi-
fied; abundant reasoning; the comprehensive
and expanded philosophy of Burke:
A personage was how rising to the first rank;
in the first assembly in the world, who must
have held a very exalted situation in any assem.
Bly of statesmen and orators that it ever con-
tained-Charles James Fox, the second son of
Henry, Lord Holland, born January 24th,
1749. His father soon perceived the superiority
of his intellectual powers, and spared no pains
on his education. Lord Holland made it a
rule, in the tuition of his children, to follow
and regulate, but not to restrain nature. At
table, Charles; when a boy, was permitted to
enter into the conversation of men, and ac
quitted himself to the astonishment of all pre-
sent. Perhaps the early habit of thinking with
freedom, and speaking with readiness, may have
dontributed to that prompt exertion of his great.
talents, which makes a considerable part of his
?
や
​[212]
senatorial excellence. His father's indulgence
to his favourite Charles sometimes led the
youth to petulance. One day, Lady Holland
saying something on a subject of Roman his-
tory, which Charles perceived to be erroneous,
he immediately asked, with much contempt,
what she knew about the Romans? and with
more knowledge and force of argument, than
filial reverence, he demonstrated her error:
nor did his father chide his forwardness. When
Lord Holland was Secretary of State, young
Charles used to read his dis patches; and when
not ten years of age, one day told his father
that a paper, which he had just read, was too
feeble, and threw it into the fire. The Secre-
tary made out another copy, without the
slightest reprimand. Most parents would
agree in thinking that the father's indulgence,
even to Charles Fox, was excessive. Few,
very few, can have an opportunity of așcer-
taining its effects on SUCH A SUBJECT.
When fourteen years of age, Lord Holland
carried Charles to Spa, and allowed him five
guineas a night for a Pharo-bank, an allow-
ance which probably generated his propensity
to gaming.
At Eton, Charles's literary acquirements
were far beyond those of his contemporaries, al-
though several of them were excellent scholars.
His attainments were not the effects of habitual
application, but of the occasional exercise of
1
[ 213 ]
1
extraordinary powers. He very early disco-
vered a strong bias to pleasure and dissipation;
a bias increased by his father, who lavishly sup-
plied, him with such sums as invited extrava-
gance.
At Oxford, his talents and learning created
admiration, and even astonishment. Although
his time seemed devoted to gaming, and every
other species of dissipation, he excelled all of
his standing in literary acquirements: he was
a profound classical scholar: he read Aristotle's
Ethics and Politics with an ease uncommon in
those who have devoted themselves principally
to the study of the Greek writers. His favou-
rite authors were Demosthenes and Homer. *
*He has retained through life his knowledge of the
Greek language, and is still particularly conversant with
Homer. He can discuss the works of the bard, not only as
a man of exquisite taste, and as a philosophical critic,
which from such a mind might be expected, but as a gram-
marian. No professed philologist can more accurately
know the phraseology and versification of the poet.
day, a clergyman, eminent for knowledge of the Greek
language, was attempting to prove that a verse in one of
the books of the Iliad was not genuine, because it con-
tained measures not used by Homer. Mr. Fox instantly re-
cited twenty other verses of the same measure, to shew that
deviation from the usual feet did not imply interpolation.
He, indeed, could converse with a Longinus, on Homer's
beauty, sublimity, and pathetic; with an Aristotle, on his
exhibitions of man; and with a pedagogue, on his dialects,
his dactyls, spandees, and anapaests. Such is the rapidity
with which Fox darts into a subject, that he can meet men
of the greatest knowledge, on at least equal terms, on
their peculiar studies.
ર
}
2149
History, ethics, and politics, were his favoti
rite studies; and he seems early to have con
sidered himself as destined to be a senator and
a statesman. He staid but a short time at Ox-
ford, made the tour of Europe; and though he
plunged into every excess into which the plea-
surable regions of the south allure Britons in
the hey-day of youth, he acquired an extensive
and profound knowledge of the constitution,
laws, government, nature, arts, and manners of
the several countries which he visited.
In the twentieth year of his age he procured
a seat in parliament; and, young as he was;
distinguished himself among the many eminent
men then in the House of Commons At first
he took the side of Administration, and was
thought one of its ablest supporters; in so much,
that he attracted the notice of Junius, who saw
the bloom of talents destined to ripen into the
most exquisite'and valuable fruit. The facility
with which he made himself master of a new
question, and comprehended the strength,
weakness, and tendency of a proposition of
measure; his forcible argumentation, his readi-
ness of the most appropriate, significant, and
energetic language, soon rendered him con-
spicuous: his daily and obvious improvement
shewed that his talents had not then nearly
reached the pinnacle at which they were to
arrive.
Mr. Fox's parliamentary exertions, from
1
[ 15 ]
their commencement till his abandonment of
Lord North, may be considered as the first
EPOCH of his oratorial and political history. We
see in him vast capacity; but hitherto more
capacity than fulness. We observe strong
pointed reasoning; but not that variety and
abundance of profound observations and just
conclusions which the same mind, embracing
more extensive and manifold knowledge, after-
wards exhibited. He himself has declared, that
he learned more from Mr. Burke than from all
others. Even, if he had not made that decla-
ration, it would be very probable that he de-
rived great benefit from intercourse with such
a man as Burke: that the power of rapid ac-
quirement would be successfully exerted, when
there was within its reach such a multiplicity
of the most valuable stores. It is evident that,
from the beginning of his connection with
Burke, his speeches, in a very short time, dis-
played much greater copiousness of matter and
enlargement of political views.
(
مجھو
་
Fox's parliamentary efforts, during the Ame-
rican war, formed a second EPOCH in his orato-
rial and political history, when first-rate powers
had abundant materials.
Mr. Fox had first been a Lord of the Ad-
miralty; afterwards a Lord of the Treasury:
but, opposing Government, in 1774, was dis-
missed. He had, some time before, begun to
associate with several members of Opposition;
T216 ]
}
and had been, by the sympathy of genius, at-
tracted to Burke. Lord North had repeatedly
represented to him the suspicions to which his
association with opposers of Government gave
rise. "If (he said) we see a woman frequently
coming out of a bagnio, we cannot swear she is
not virtuous; yet we should judge of her from
her company." Finding that, notwithstanding
his expostulations, Charles still associated with
the same gentlemen, Lord North procured his
dismissal, very abruptly, from office. Fox, al-
though in his disposition candid, liberal, and
of the most expanded benevolence, yet, in
his temper, feeling and irritable, was filled
with resentment at the mode of his dismission,
which he imputed to Lord North; and from
that time became a most strenuous and formi-
dable opponent of the Minister. One of the
principal features in Fox's character is openness.
In every part of his political conduct, and, in-
deed, of his private, boldness and decision have
been prominent. Whether the ends which he
pursued were useful or hurtful, there was no
artifice, no petty intrigue, no duplicity in the
means: whether all was fair or not, at least, all
was above board. Such a character was totally
unfit for the tricks and suppleness of a mere
courtier. The greatness of his mind was as
incompatible with the frivolity of court eti-
quette, as his openness with the duplicity of
court artifice.
>
[217]
*
The proceedings respecting America opened
a wide field of opposition. Although Fox at-
tacked the measures of Administration in ge-
neral, yet the principal butt of his eloquence
was the NOBLE LORD IN THE BLUE RIBBON.
He
Fox, perfectly master of every kind and mode
of argument; true and sophistical, close and
loose, modelled his reasonings according to
those of his principal opponent. Lord North,
though a very ready, and, indeed, an able rea-
soner, was by no means close. His arguments,
though generally sufficiently logical, had not
mathematical gradation and connection.
did not keep one object before him, and move
directly towards it, without deviating to the
right or left. He was diffuse and expatiatory.
Fox, like one of those great generals who could
readily adopt the tactics best fitted for those of an
opposing general, in his speeches against Lord
North expatiated into a very wide field. The
closeness of a future opponent has since lessened
his expatiation, and by contracting its direction,
strengthened his eloquence, as I shall after-
wards.have occasion to mention. Fox, during
the American war, was a more informed and
more energetic speaker than before; and now
is a more informed, more compacted, more ener-
getic speaker than during his political cam-
paigns against Lord North.
$
4
"Among many extraordinary excellencies in
the eloquence of Fox is his power of simplifica-
F f
[218]
噓
​tion. However intricate or complicated a sub-
ject may be, he unravels and unfolds it so per
fectly as to make it intelligible to the most or
dinary hearer. He strips Truth of every dress,
that, from either artifice or negligence, might
conceal her real form; and displays her naked
nerves and sinews. Like Demosthenes, the ex-
cellence of his speeches consists in essentials;
in clearly stating important facts, in adducing
and impressing forcible arguments. His ora-
tions are addressed almost exclusively to the
understanding. In imagery he frequently
deals; but his are the images of illustration
more than of embellishment Like Demosthę.
nes, he can call in humour and wit; but they are
called in as auxiliaries, and not suffered to act
as principals. So extensive and variegated is
his knowledge, that he overcomes professional
men, not only in the principles, (for that, in
such a man as Fox, would not be surprising)
but in the technical details of their peculiar
knowledge. His arrangement is evidently not
studied; thoughts rise so rapidly in his mind
that it would be impossible for him to adhere
to any preconceived order. His disposition is,
however, the result of a mind that is compre-
hensive, as well, as rapid and energetic: it iş
sufficiently luminous to convey to his hearers
the different parts and relations of the most
complicated subjects His style is that, which
r
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+
a powerful understanding, and a thorough
ན
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[ 219 ].
1
knowledge of the language, without any affec-
tation, produces. He courts neither elegance
nor harmony; but is not deficient in those se-
condary qualities. The primary qualities of
language, clearness, force, and appropriation,
characterize his speeches.. Without rhetorical
flourishes and gaudy ornaments, his language
is merely a vehicle of feeling and thought.
American affairs occupied the principal at-
tention of Ministry and Opposition during the
session of 1774. In all the colonies the landing
of the tea had been resisted; so that all shared
in the criminality for which the port of Boston
had been blocked. The Bostonians, on hear
ing of the resolutions of the British parliament,
were at first alarmed; but on finding that their
neighbours were resolved to support them, be-
came more firm and determined in their op-
position to the mother country. The assembly
of Virginia set the example of making the cause
of Boston a common cause of the colonies.
They represented the parliamentary measures
as in truth an attack on all the colonies, and
as of a tendency destructive to the rights and
liberties of all, unless effectually resisted. To
inflame the minds of the people, they appoint
ed the first of June, the day on which the bill
was to commence, as a day of fast and humilia.
tion, "to implore the divine interposition to
avert the heavy calamity which threatened de-
struction to their civil rights, with the evils of
知
​"
{
[220]
civil war, and to give one heart and mind to
the people, firmly to oppose every injury to
the American rights." The other colonies co-
inciding in sentiment, and adopting the mea-
sures of Massachuset and Virginia, commit-
tees of correspondence were established be-.
tween the several provinces, and a plan was
proposed for holding a general congress to de-
liberate on such measures as the common inte-
rest of America might require.
The congress was held at Philadelphia, con-
sisting of delegates chosen from all the other
colonies, except Georgia. Although the colo-
nies were not all equally violent in every par-
ticular, they all greed in condemning the Bos-
ton-port bill, the consequent laws respecting
Massachuset's Bay, and in denying the right of
Britain to tax the colonies. They published a decla-
ration on the state of the affairs in Massachuset,
declaring their approbation of the conduct of
the Bostonians, recommending perseverance
in the plan of conduct they had hitherto pur-
sued, and contributions to compensate for the
evils they had already suffered from their spi-
rit of resistance. They published also a peti-
tion to the King, an address to the People of
Great Britain, and an address to the Colonies,
all breathing the same spirit of repugnance to
the authority of parliament; also a declaration
of rights and grievances, claiming, as a most
►
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1
[221]..
important privilege,, the exclusive power of
legislating for themselves in all cases whatso-
•
ever.
These were the resolutions made public; but
it appeared, from the measures adopted in the
several colonies, after the breaking up of the
congress, that hostilities were already proposed.
Arms and warlike stores were openly provided,
and resistance to the mother country, by open
force, became the subject of common conver-
sation. The Americans also entered into an
association to suffer no trade, import or export,
with Britain, or any of her possessions, until
the obnoxious laws should be repealed, and the
right of taxation renounced. Such were the
consequences of the Boston-port bill, and the
subsequent measures of the British legislature;
consequences very different from the expecta-
tions of the Ministry, but fulfilling the predic-
tions of Burke.
While these things were going on in Ame-
rica, great apprehensions were entertained in
Britain, by merchants trading to the colonics,
of the effects which the disputes would produce
to commerce. Petitions were laid before par-
liament by several bodies of traders, represent-
ing the great losses they had already sustained
from the suspension of traffic with America,
the immense sums that were owing them from
that quarter, and the ruin that must accrue to
Y
}
1
[ 222 ]
them, unless intercourse should be again open-
ed with the colonies.
Among the trading and manufacturing towns
which had been affected by the American dis-
putes, Birmingham was one of those which felt
them most severely, and had most anxiously
petitioned the House to take their case into
consideration. The petition was ably supported
by Mr. Burke, but unsuccessfully. The petiti
oners expressed their gratitude in the fol-
lowing letter:
91R,
}
TO EDMUND BURKE, ESQ.
Birmingham, Feb. 8, 1775:
"The merchants and manufacturers having a
principal share in the American trade from this town
and neighbourhood, beg your acceptance, through
our hands, of their warmest acknowledgements for
your liberal support of our petition to the Honourable
House of Commons, wherein are stated the evils
we already feel, and the greater we have yet to ap-
prebend, from a continued stagnation of so import-
ant a branch of our commerce as that with North
America,
"At the same time we also unite in expressing
our particular thanks for the motion *you was pleased
* From Birmingham a petition, agreeable to the views of
Ministry, had been presented to the House. Burke moved
an inquiry might be made concerning the two petitions, to
ascertain which spoke the sense of the people.
[228]
1
to make for an enquiry into the manner of both the
late petitions from the town of Birmingham having
been obtained ; an enquiry which scarcely could have
failed to give some useful intelligence, and to have
fully justified our application to parliament at so
critical a juncture.
}
"We cannot wonder, Sir, that defamation should
haye maile its appearance on such an occasion as this,
which is the notorious evidence of a weak cause, and
whose mischiefs, we are persuaded, will be as tran-
şient as its efforts were intemperate. We only take
the liberty, therefore, of adding our sincere wishes,
that you may fill your distinguished place in the Bri-
tish senate, and that your persevering endeavours
to preserve the rights of the subject, to maintain the
prosperity of our commerce, and to secure the tranqui-
lity of this extensive empire, may meet with a success
adequate to the patriotic zeal with which they are
animated. Being, with the greatest regard,
seinsk
ST FRITH,
JAKETTLE,
Sir,
Your most obliged,
bob
T. TWIGG,
W. RUSSEL,
R. RABNER,
{
And obedient Servants,
T. WILKINSON, T. MARTÍN,
Ji RICHARDS,
SMITH,:
W. WELCH,
JRICHARDS,
G. RUSSEL,
J. WELCH,
T. BINGHAM,
J. WATFORD.”
←
To the petitions the Minister and his friends
paid no great attention; determined to persist
in the plan of taxing America, they disregarded
3
}
[224]
every consideration adduced to shew its im
policy.
F
An address was voted to his Majesty, declar-
ing America to be in a state of rebellion: It-
was followed by several resolutions, declaratory.
of a determination to coerce. Burke made a
stand at every post, with his able phalanx; but
was overpowered by numbers. The petitions
of the various bodies of merchants were refer-
red to a committee, which Burke called a com-
mittee of oblivion. A petition was presented
by the American agents, the chief of whom
was the great Franklin, from the American
Congress to the King, and referred by his Ma-
jesty to the House. Franklin and his brother
agents requested to be heard in support of the
petition. Burke exerted his eloquence to pro-
cure them a hearing, but in vain.
}
I 1
the
While the Ministry were pursuing every mea-
sure that could tend to alienate the colonies,
they professed to wish for conciliation. Lord
North moved, that when any of the colonies
should offer, according to their abilities, to
raise, under the authority of its assembly, the
due proportion for the common defence, and
for the support of civil government, parliament
should forbear taxing that province. The ob-
ject of this proposition was evidently to detach
some of the provinces from, the combination:te
it was a half measure, an attempt to compro
mise the difference, when it was plain, from the
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ሩ
[225]
very beginning, that there was no medium be-
tween coercion and.abandonment. If the Mi-
nistry. were before right, they conceded by far
too much; if wrong, too little. This fluctuation
of counsels, this mixture of soothing and irritat-
ing measures, had uniformly marked the admi-
nistration of Lord North, and as uniformly been
unsuccessful. Burke's comprehensive wisdom
objected to the present resolution as insufficient,
and his sagacity foresaw that it would be inef-
fectual. The event justified his predictions:
the Congress rejected the proposition as only a
proffered suspension of the mode, not a renun-
ciation of the right, of levying taxes.
That venerable statesman, who, in the vigour
of his age, had carried the glory of his country
to a height unknown in the annals of British
history, now, in the decline of life, and oppress-
ed with distemper, made an effort to prevent a
war between the parent state and her colonies.
The piercing eye of Chatham saw the danger,
with all the probable circumstances which would
accompany it, and the consequences that would
follow in dissensions with America he per-
ceived the seeds of foreign war. "France and
Spain," he said, "are watching your conduct,
and waiting for the maturity of your errors."-
To ward off such evils, the wise patriot pro-
posed to cut up the root from which they were
likely to spring, and to conciliate America, by
placing her on exactly the same footing on
G g
£
{
[226]
4
1
which she had stood before the introduction of
the new system.
He supported his motion by a force of rea-
soning and eloquence not unworthy of the days
of his own greatest energy. His attempt was
unavailing: his motion was rejected by a great
majority.
1
Burke was, meanwhile, employed in making
the most minute and extensive inquiries into
the physical and moral state of America, from
all those who, from situation and ability, were
qualified to give him the most complete infor-
mation and justest views. He had been some
years before appointed agent for New York,
and maintained a close intercourse with many
of the colonis's, and also with the American
agents in London, especially with Dr Frank-
lin. From all that he could learn or judge, he
formed the conclusion, that an attempt to sub-
jugate the colonies would be impracticable:
conciliation, therefore, he still persisted to re-
commend.
}
Way.
March 22, 1775, he laid before the House
thirteen resolutions for reconcilement.
ing the discussion of right, he confined himself
to expediency. He proceeded upon a princi-
ple admitted by the wisest legislators, that go.
vernment must be adapted to the nature and si-
tuation of the people or whose benefit it is ex-
ercised. Instead of recurring to abstract ideas
of the rights of man, he considered the circum-
1
[227].
Stances, modes of thinking, dispositions, and
principles of action of those men in particular,
the treatment of whom was the subject of de-
liberation.
He proposed that the Americans should tax
themselves by their own representatives, in
their own assemblies, agreeably to the former
usage, and to the analogy of the British consti-
tution and that all acts imposing duties should
}
be repealed. "Peace," he observes, " implies
reconciliation; and where there has been a
mutual dispute, reconciliation always implies
concession on some side." He, considers first
whether Britain ought to concede; and after estab-
lishing, by the strongest arguments, the wis-
dom of concession, he next proceeds to inquire
what concession she ought to make. On the
first question, guided by the rule of legislative
policy that I have above stated, he takes one
of those wide ranges in which his expansive un-
derstanding so much excelled. As, in the speech
on American taxation, he had presented a com-
plete history of the policy of this country re-
specting the colonies; in this he considers the
internal state of America, physical, moral, reli-
gious, and political. His reasoning for conci.
liation, even at the expence of concession, is
taken from two great sources,-the advantages
which had accrued, and would continue to ac-
crue, to this country from their rapidly increas-
ing prosperity, if we were on amicable terms:
a
I 228 ]
and, from their power of resistance, if we
should attempt force, he surveys the popula-
tion of the colonies, their agriculture, and com-
merce.
Here he shews the amazing versatility of his
powers, and the industry with which he master-
ed the most minute and intricate details. To
display the great increase of the commerce of
America, he gave a comparative statement of the
export trade to the colonies in 1704 and in 1772;
and a comparative statement of the export trade to
the colonies in 1772, and to the whole world in 1704:
demonstrating, from acknowledged vouchers,
that the trade to America in 1772 amounted to
6,024,171.k. and in 1704 to 569,930 l. and con-
sequently had risen in the proportion of eleven
to one. He also shews that the trade to the co-
lonies in 1772 was in the proportion of twelve to
thirteen of the trade to the whole world in 1704,
which was 6,509,900%. This detail he applies
to prove the vast commercial importance of the
colonies to Britain.
i
The increase was so rapid, that sagacity
would not have anticipated it as probable, in
the usual course of events. "It happened within
sixty-eighty years, within the period of the life
of man; in the remembrance of men still alive,
and who in 1704 were of sufficient age to be ac-
qainted with the commerce, of their country."
These could hardly have believed it possible,
that in their life time the trade of Britain with
[ 229 ]
America should come to equal that which there
was, then, with the whole world. Here his
imagination soared to a very grand poetical
vision." My Lord Bathurst * might remeni-
ber all the stages of the progress. He was in
1704 of an age, at least, to be made to com-
prehend such things. He was then old enough,
acta parentum jam legere, et quæ sit, poterit cog-
noscere virtus. Suppose, Sir, that the Angel of
this auspicious youth, foreseeing the many vir-
tues, which made him one of the most amiable
as he is one of the most fortunate men of his
age, had opened to him in vision, that, when,
in the fourth generation, the third Prince of
the house of Brunswick had sat twelve years
on the throne of that nation, which (by the
happy issue of moderate and healing counsels}
was to be made Great Britain, he should see his
son, Lord Chancellor of England, turn back
the current of hereditary dignity to its fountain,
and raise him to an higher rank of peerage,
whilst he enriched the family with a new one.
That enlightened, benevolent, and engaging man was
then above ninety. His health was so firm and vigorous,
that he used to sit up to enjoy the pleasures of social con-
versation for several hours after his son. The Lord Chane
cellor's more delicate temperament obliged him to go to bed.
After Lord Apsley's departure for the night, the venerable
peer used to call for the other bottle, and say,
friends, let us YOUNG men drink to the repose of the old
gentleman that has left us."
" come, my
?
[230]
*
If, amidst these bright and happy scenes of 88-
mestic honour and prosperity, that Angelshould
have drawn up the curtain, and unfolded the
rising glories of his country, and whilst he was
gazing with admiration on the then commercial
grandeur of England, the Genius should point
out to him a little speck, scarce visible in the
mass of the national interest, a small seminal
principle rather than a formed body, and
should tell him-Young man, there is Ame-
rica, which at this day serves for little more
than to amuse you with stories of savage men
and uncouth manners; yet shall, before you
taste of death, shew itself equal to the whole of
that commerce which now attracts the envy of
the world. Whatever England has been grow-
ing to by a progressive increase of improve
ment, brought in by varieties of people, by
succession of civilizing settlements, in a series of
seventeen hundred years, you shall see as much
added to her by America in the course of a
single life!If this state of his had been fore-
told to him, would it not require all the san-
guine credulity of youth, and all the fervid
glow of enthusiasm, to make him believe it?
Fortunate man, he has lived to see it! Fortu
nate indeed, if he lives to see nothing that shall
vary the prospect, and cloud the setting of
this day!" He proceeds to the agriculture and
fisheries of the colonies, details their flourishing
state, draws a general conclusion of the value
[ 281 ]
>
of America; and argues that force is by no
means an effectual mode of securing to Britain
so valuable a possession.
>
He next enters into the character of the Ame.
ricans, their spirit of liberty; arising, first, from
descent: "The people of the colonies are de-
scended of Englishmen. England, Sir, is a nation
which, I hope, still respects, and formerly ador-
ed, her freedom. The colonists emigrated from
you when this part of their character was pre-
dominant; and they took this bias and direc-
tion the moment they parted from your hands.
They are therefore not only devoted to liberty,
but to liberty according to English ideas and on
English principles." From thence, he says,
the Americans inferred, that they must possess
the power of granting their own money. "From
England the colonies draw, as with their life-
blood, these ideas and principles." In the opi-
nion which they, as the descendants of free
Englishmen, entertain, they were confirmed by
the form of their provincial legislative assem-
blies allowed by Britain.
"Their govern-
ments were in the highest degree popular."
He proceeds to shew the influence of their
religion (that is, among the northern colonies,
where the inhabitants were principally protes-
tant dissenters) in nourishing the spirit of
liberty. "If (he says) any thing were want-
ing to this necessary operation of the form of
government, religion would have given it the
7
1
[232]
complete effect: religion, always a principle-
of energy in this new people, is no way worn
out or impaired ; and their mode of professing
it is also one main cause of this free spirit. The
people are protestants; and of that kind, which
is the most adverse to all implicit submission
of mind and opinion. This is a persuasion not
only favourable to liberty, but built upon it.
I do not think, Sir, that the reason of this a-
verseness, in the dissenting churches, from all
that looks like absolute government, is so much
to be sought in their religious tenets, as in their
history. Every one knows, that the Roman
Catholic religion is at least coeval with most of
the governments where it prevails; that it has
generally gone hand in hand with them, and
received great favour, and every kind of sup-
port, from authority. The church of England,
too, was formed, from her cradle, under the
nursing care of regular government. But the
dissenting interests have sprung up in direct
opposition to all the ordinary powers of the
world, and could justify that opposition only
on a strong claim to natural liberty. Their
very existence depended on the powerful and
unremitting assertion of that claim. All pro-
testantism, even the most cold and passive, is a
sort of dissent. But the religion most preva-
lent in our northern colonies is a refinement
on the principle of resistance; it is the diffi-
dence of dissent, and the protestantism of the
}
}
1
[233]
protestant religion. This religion, under a
variety of denominations, agreeing in nothing
but in the communion of the spirit of liberty,
is predominant in most of the northern pro-
vinces. The colonists left England when this
spirit was high; and in the emigrants highest
of all." The manners of the southern provin-
ces, he contends, have the same effect with the
religion of the northern. Here he makes a very
ingenious and profound observation; that in
whatever country, of which the bulk of the
people is free, and yet there are many slaves,
domestic or predial, the spirit of liberty is more
high and haughty, than in those countries in
which there are no human beings in that state
of degradation. This remark is justified by
the history of Greece and Rome. In all the
provinces, he shews that the mode of education,
and the remoteness from enslaved nations, in-
creases their love of freedom.
The spirit of liberty being, from a multipli-
city of causes, some physical, and most of them
moral, very strong, he argued, that it must be
treated in one of three ways: it must either be
changed, as inconvenient, by removing its
causes; prosecuted, as criminal; or, thirdly, be
complied with, as necessary. One means pro-
posed by the friends of government for repress-
ing the power of America, was to withhold
future grants of land, and so check population.
The futility of this project he demonstrated:
H h
E 234
the people, he said, had already occupied much
land without grants, and even if Britain had
force to drive them from some parts, they would
Occupy others: " they would soon forget a go-
vernment by which they were disowned; would
become hordes of English Tartars, and, pour-
ing down on your unfortified frontiers a fierce
and irresistible cavalry, become masters of your
governors and counsellors, your collectors and
comptrollers, and of all the slayes that adhered
to them. Such would, and, in no long time,
must be, the effect of attempting to forbid as
a crime, and to suppress as an evil, the com-
mand and blessing of Providence-" Increase
and multiply." Such would be the happy re-
sult of an endeavour to keep, as a lair of wild
beasts, that earth which God, by an express
charter, has given to the children of men.
impoverish the colonies in general, and in par-
ticular to arrest the noble course of their ma
rine enterprises, would not be so impracticable."
Τα
But (he says) we have colonies fór no pur-
pose but to be serviceable to us, it seems pre-
posterous to make them unserviceable, in order
to keep them obedient." He contends that the
temper and character of the colonies are unal.
terable by any human art. "But let us (he
proceeds) suppose all these moral difficulties
got over. The ocean remains.
The ocean remains. You cannot
pump this dry; and as long as it continues in
its present bed, so long all the causes which
奋
​[235]
weaken authority by distance will continue. "Ye
Gods, annihilate but space and time, and make`
two lovers happy!" was a pious and passionate,
prayer; but just as reasonable as many of the
serious wishes of very grave and solemn poli-
ticians."
་
•
་
: The second mode of breaking the stubborn
spirit of the Americans, by prosecuting it as
criminal; he exposes as impossible in the exe-
cution, and consequently absurd in the at-
tempt." I (he says) do not know the method
of drawing up an indictment against a whole
people." He went on to other effects which
might be expected from perseverance in an
endeavour which the colonies would resist.
From a contest with America he' predicted
that there would ensue a rupture with Euro-
After ad-
pean powers, and a general' war.
ducing every argument that genius, informed
by knowledge, and guided by wisdom, could
invent to incline Britain to conciliation, even
at the expence of concession, he proceeds to
consider what this country ought to concede.
His general principle is, that to conciliate, we
should rescind all the acts which had tended to
alienate America: He illustrates, by a very
accurate narratives the operation of the several
laws, and examines the arguments by which
they had been supported in parliament; shews
the futility of the reasoning and the contrariety
of the effects to its anticipations. Wisdom is sim-
ง
[236]
7
ple in her process, she judges of the future
from the past. The sum of Burke's reasoning,
from his complete history, is this: "By your
old mode of treating the colonies, they were
well affected to you, and you derived from them
immense and rap.dly increasing advantage: by
your new mode they are ill affected to you;
you have obstructed and prevented the emolu-
ment. I recommend to you to return from the
measures by which you now lose, to those by
which you formerly gained."
"I do not examine, whether the giving
away a man's money be a power excepted and
reserved out of the general trust of govern-
ment; and how far all mankind, in all forms
of polity, are intitled to an exercise of that
right by the charter of nature. Or whether,
on the contrary, a right of taxation is neces-
sarily involved in the general principle of le.
gislation, and inseparable from the ordinary
supreme power? These are deep questions,
where great names militate against each other;
where reason is perplexed; and an appeal to
authorities only thickens the confusion. For
high and reverend authorities lift up their
heads on both sides; and there is no sure foot.
ing in the middle. This point is the great Ser-
bonian bog, betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,
where armies whole have sunk. I do not intend
to be overwhelmed in that bog, though in such
respectable company. The question with me
量
​1
Bail
[237]
is, not whether you have a right to render
your people miserable; but whether it is not
your interest to make them happy? It is not,
what a lawyer tells me, I may do; but what
humanity, reason, and justice, tell me, I
ought to do."
In many of Burke's speeches imagination
occupies a great share; passion in not a few.
This is the speech of calm wisdom, drawing
from the most extensive information the most
salutary conclusions, and recommending the
most beneficial conduct. From the speech on
American taxation, combined with this, a
reader may derive more acquaintance with the
history and impolicy of our contest with Ame-
rica, than from any other publication; he will
see the facts and the reasonings in close connec-
tion, so as to form one great chain.
This oration, that on taxing America, and
indeed every production of Burke, shew the
absurdity of the opinion of the author of the
Memoirs, that Burke seldom 'spoke to the un-
derstanding. His discourses and writings con-
vey more of united information and instruc-
tion than are to be found in those of any ora-
tor or statesman. whose speeches have been
published. There are, no doubt, orators
whose orations are directed as closely to the
point at issue; but where are there any which
exhibit such a multiplicity of knowledge, and
so profound acquaintance with human nature,
*
[238]
intellectual, moral, religious, social, civil, and
political? From what senator's speeches can
there be formed such a system of wise and prac-
tical ethics as may be deduced from his? I may
be wrong in this opinion; but until it be
proved that there have been or are speeches
containing equally extensive and multiformı
knowledge; equally profound philosophy ;
equally momentous and beneficial instruction,
I am justified in concluding myself to be in
the right. I have perused the orations of
Cicero, of Demosthenes, of Fox, of both the
Pitts, Mansfield, and other eminent orators;
and though I think that each of them is equal
to Burke in several constituents of eloquence,
yet none of them, extraordinary as each of
them is for genius and oratorial powers, com-
municate to the reader and hearer so great a
quantity of new and important, particular and
general truths.
From the terms in which Burke speaks of
the principles of the dissenters and the Ame-
rican spirit of liberty, it has been asserted that
he was more favourable to dissenters than to
the church, and had conceived republican ideas
of freedom. This opinion. (if it be really an-
opinion, and not merely pretended to be so,
in order to charge him with inconsistency) is
maintained on passages taken from this speech
more than on any other grounds. But if we
impartially examine what he says of both the
}
+
}
[239]
t
}
spirit of religion and liberty among the Ame-
ricans, we find that he does not PRAISE either;
he only states their existence, and describes their
effects. They were very powerful moral causes
of the repugnance of the Americans to submit
to British legislation. It is on that account
that he shews their nature and operation. He
does not represent them as objects of appro-
bation, but as motives to a certain conduct.
He does not say the principles of the dissen-
ters are better than those of the church, or the
republican spirit of American freedom is more
agreeable to the rights of man than the more
moderate spirit of English freedom: he says
the dissenters of America are inspired with a
strong spirit of liberty, which, with other
causes, render them unyielding to British au-
thority. The difficulty of coercing men so in-
spired is great, and, with their physical advan-
tages, probably unsurmountable; or if sur-
mountable, with an expence and loss beyond
the value of the object: the attempt, there-
fore, is unwise; and instead of it he proposes
conciliation.
Happy had it been for this nation, happy
for mankind, if his opinions, doctrines, and
plans had been reduced to practice! His pro-
positions were negatived by a great majority:
pauci ac ferme optimus Hannoni assenserunt; sed
ut plerumque fit, optimos plurimi vicerunt.
Mrs. Piozzi, in her Anecdotes of Johnson,
tells us, that when she ventured, even before
་ ༥ ་
[240]
1
J
the Doctor himself, to applaud with rapture
the passage in the speech concerning Lord Ba-
thurst and the Angel, the Doctor said, had I
been in the house, I would have answered it
thus:
<<
Suppose, Mr. Speaker, that to Wharton, or
to Marlborough, or to any of the eminent
Whigs of the last age, the devil had, not with
any great impropriety, consented to appear, he
would perhaps in somewhat like these words
have commenced the conversation:
66
You seem, my Lord, to be concerned at
the judicious apprehension, that while you are
sapping the foundations of royalty at home,
and propagating here the dangerous doârine
of resistance, the distance of America may se
cure its inhabitants from your arts, though ac-
tive: but I will unfold to you the gay prospects
of futurity. This people, now so innocent and
harmless, shall draw the sword against their
mother country, and bathe its point in the
blood of their benefactors. This people, now
contented with a little, shall then refuse to
spare what they themselves confess they could
not miss; and these men, now so honest and so
grateful, shall, in return for peace and for
pro-
tection, fee their vile agents in the house of par-
liament, there to sow the seeds of sedition, and
propagate confusion, perplexity, and pain.
Be not dispirited, then, at the contemplation of
their present happy state. I promise you that
J
[241]
<
?
anarchy, poverty, and death shall be my care,
be carried even across the spacious Atlantic,
and settle in America itself, the sure conse-
quences of our beloved whiggism."
If this parody be corrrectly transcribed by
Mrs. Piozzi, I cannot help thinking it inferior
to the usual productions of the sage. It is also
less able than the passage it is intended to ridi-
cule. Burke's Angel, the advocate of whiggism,
by holding forth the amazing increase of pro-
sperity that was to follow its predominancy, de-
scribes what was to take place under that free
government which good spirits approve. John-
son's devil is a Tory in his heart. The devil
calls the doctrine of resistance dangerous; terms
opposition to acts, which Whigs. thought op
pressive, sedition; and the defenders of the
oppressed the vile agents of sedition. Though
the devil, therefore, professes to love whig-
gism, he speaks the language of a Tory.-
The devil is also out in point of history. The
principles of liberty, which Satan calls danger.
ous, existed in America long before the time of
Wharton and Marlborough. Johnson was so
bigotted a Tory, that he makes even the devil
himself the reviler of whiggism.
“
About this time Dr. Johnson published his
pamphlet, entitled Taxation no. Tyranny,"
which may be in many respects considered as
an answer to Burke's celebrated speech on tax-
ing America. The high church bigotry, which
i i
{
!
[242]
:
frequently sent a cloud over the bright mind of
the illustrious sage, 'prevented his political es.
says from having that superlative excellence.
which marks his criticisms and ethics. His
views on subjects of government are partial,
and want that enlarged comprehensiveness
which distinguishes his other writings. The
usual perspicacity of his mind seems dimmed
by the prejudices of education. His reasoning
not only wants his general expansion, but his
general acuteness and precision. Indeed, where-
ever politics interfered, his estimates of truth,
conduct, and character, appear erroneous-
What but the perversion of prejudice could.
abominate William, the deliverer of this
country, regard the contemptible weakness of
the priest-ridden James, or praise the abandon-
ed, unprincipled profligate, his brother?-a
prince, who evidently considered subjects in no
other light, than as men whose industry and
property were to be lavished in affording him
the means of gross debauchery.
This pamphlet of Johnson partook of the
prejudice which could ascribe great merit to
Charles II. He sets out with assuming a posi-
tion as an axiom, which is not only not self-
evident, but not true; taken absolutely; true
only with certain modifications:-That the su
preme power of every community has the right of re-
quiring from all its subjects such contributions as are
necessary to the public safety or public prosperity.
1
[243]
By the British constitution, the supreme power
of the community has not the right of levying
contributions from its subjects, as subjects, but as
members of an established society, delegating
to individuals, chosen by themselves, the power
of levying contributions. The agent assesses
for the general interest, by permission of the
employer; the employer acquiesces, when he
finds that general interest to be the object, and
marks his judgment of the exercise of the dele-
gated power by the continuance or disconti-
nuance of the agent, when the specified term of
the trust is expired. By the British constitu.
tion, consent of the taxee, immediate or medi-
ate, is necessary to constitute a legitimate tax.
Johnson, considers Britain and America as so-
vereign and subject, not as different members
of a free state, held together by and for mutual
interest; and as members of a free state, suf-
fering partial restraint for general good,—for
their own good, and not the good of others ex-
elusive of theirs. In order to ridicule the re-
sistance of America, Johnson supposes Corn-
wall to resolve to separate itself from the rest
of England, and to refuse to submit to an Eng-
lish parliament; holding a congress at Truro,
and publishing resolutions similar to those of
the Americans. "Would not such a declara-
tion appear to come from madmen ?" The cases
are not analogus: Cornwall is fully represented
in parliament, consequently could not have
2
1
ነ
[244]
that reason for resisting our legislature. If we
were to suppose parliament absurd and wicked
enough to make laws depriving Cornwall of
the most valuable privileges of Britons, without
any demerit, the Cornishmen would have a
right to resist that act, because oppressive, un-
constitutional, and unjust As to the expedi-
ency of exerting the right of resistance, the case
would be very different between Cornwall and
America; Cornwall being both much weaker
and much nearer than the colonies. It is im-
possible that the wisdom of Johnson could have
meant this pretended analogy for reasoning
men. It might pass with mere courtiers, but
would not convince statesmen, even though pre-
possessed in favour of the cause. Its flimsiness
a Dundas, a North, a Thurlow, a Wedder-
burne, and a Mansfield, would perceive as
clearly as a Shelburne, a Caniden, a Chatham,
a Fox, or a Burke. Johnson considered the
subjugation of America, if it persevered in re-
sistance, as certain; not reflecting on the
energetic spirit which inspires men fighting for
what either is, or they think, liberty. His predic-
tions respecting the Americans proved false.
In his political writings we find too much
adherence to generalities, to be practicably be-
neficial. With the most powerful mind, habi-
tuated to abstraction, he reasons on politics
more as an able schoolman than as an able
statesman, Burke, with an equally strong under-
1
}
氮
​[245]
:
standing, as much accustomed to generaliza-
tion, in reasoning on conduct enters into a much
more particular consideration of the actual cases,
in all their circumstances.
66
In a conversation between Johnson and
others, Burke delivered. his opinion on the ef-
fects of parliamentary eloquence, Sir Joshua
Reynolds said, " Mr. Burke, I do not mean to
flatter, but when posterity reads one of your
speeches in parliament, it will be difficult to be-
lieve that you took so much pains, knowing
with certainty that it could produce no effect,
that not one vote would be gained by it."
Waving (replied Burke) your compliment to
me, I shall say in general, that it is very well
worth while for a man to speak well in parlia-
ment. One who has vanity speaks to display
his talents; and if a man speaks well, he gra-
dually establishes a certain réputation and con-
sequence in the general opinion, which sooner
or later will have its political reward. Besides,
though not one vote be gained, a good speech has
its effect. Though an act which has been ably
opposed passes into a law; yet, in its progress, it
is modelled, it is softened in such a manner,
that we plainly see the Minister has been told
that the members attached to him are so sen-
sible of its injustice or absurdity, from what
they have heard, that it must be altered. The
House of Commons is a mixed body, I except
the minority, which I hold to be pure, (smiling)
:
:
+
1
1
}
[246]
!
but I take the whole house: it is a mass by na
means pure; but neither is it wholly corrupt,
though there is in it a large proportion of cor-
ruption there are many members, who gene-
rally go with the Minister, who will not go all
lengths. There are many honest well-meaning
country gentlemen, who are in parliament only
to keep up the consequence of their families.
Upon most of these a good speech will have in-
fluence. The majority, indeed, will always
follow where they are led."
Quo clamor vocat et turba faventium...
+
Some one speaking of place-hunters, Burke
proceeded, "Taking your metaphor, you know
that in hunting, few are so desperate as to fol-
low without reserve; some do not chuse to
leap ditches and hedges, and risk their necks,
gallop over steep precipices, or dirty them-
selves in bogs and mires." Burke, on the same
occasion, delivered his opinion concerning emi-
gration. "We hear prodigious complaints at
present of emigration. I am convinced that
emigration makes a country more populous.
Exportation of men, as of any other commodi-
ties, makes more be produced. Leave breeders,
and you will have more people than if there
were no emigration." Johnson observed, "there
will be more people if there are more breeders.
Thirty cows in good pasture will produce more
calves than ten cows, provided they have good
{
[247]
1
bulls."
Burke answered," there are bulls
enough in Ireland."
་
The club had now received great accessions
of genius and literature. Mr. Gibbon, Mr.
Sheridan, and Mr. Fox, became members.
Fox was generally silent in the company of
Johnson. That could not proceed from fear
even of his talents. Who was, or is, the man
whose powers Charles Fox need fear? His
taciturnity, probably, proceeded from a desire
of information and instruction, which a young
man, of equal abilities, might reap from the
knowledge and experience of the old sage.
Gibbon did not distinguish himself in the club:
he disliked Johnson, and did not enter freely
into conversation when he was present. This
dislike was perhaps partly owing to the very
great difference of their theological tenets; and
as, with all his talents and learning, he had a
considerable share of vanity, probably in some
degree to mortification at the superiority which,
he must have been conscious, Johnson and some
more of the members possessed over even a
Gibbon. Johnson, besides, undervalued that
species of literary effort in which Gibbon ex-
celled, and had declared in his company that
the greater part of what was called history was
nothing but conjecture. Boswell says, that
Johnson had talked with disgust concerning
Gibbon's face, and that the philosopher re-
sented the attack on his beauty; but Boswell
1
}
[248]
1
seems inclined to impute to him frivolous or
bad motives. It is, however, certain that, what-
ever might be the cause, Gibbon was reserved
in the club, and abstained from intellectual
contests. What he said was rather epigramma-
tic and sarcastic than replete with the ability
and learning which his great literary monu-
ment has displayed.
It was Johnson who proposed Mr. Sheridan
to be a member, saying, when he recommended
him,
" he who has written the best comedies of
the age must be a considerable man." Bos-
well considers the admission to the club as an
honour to Sheridan. It certainly was a society
in which there were several men of high emi-
nence, and three to whom it would be difficult
to find three equals: but it could not be reck-
oned a high honour to Sheridan to belong to a
literary meeting, of which James Boswell was
deemed worthy to be a member.
Burke, one evening at the club, speaking of
the deanery of Fern, which was then vacant,
said it must be barreit, and that he believed
there would be a contest for it between Dr.
HEATH and Dr. Moss. Speaking of livings in
general, by this," he said, "that Horace de-
scribes a good manor"
込み
​Est modus in rebus sunt certi denique fines:
Which he translated, "There is a modus in
the tythes and fixed fines," He met, one day,
"
.\
}
[249]
{
with a young gentleman from Ireland, of better
parts and birth than fortune, who was describ-
ing, with no little indignation, the purse-proud
arrogance of some Scotch merchant, .who had,
he said, made a great deal of money by dealing
in kelp, and looked down on gentlemen much
his superiors in family and accomplishments.
"Ay," replied Burke, " he thinks,
Et genus et virtus nisi cum re vilior alga est.
Boswell, who seems to have thought that the
doctrines of imputed merit extended to asso-
ciates in civil life, as well as to matters of religi-
ous faith, and was very anxious to be in parties
of distinguished men, formed a plan of bring-
ing Johnson into a company in which Wilkes,
whom the Doctor detested as impious and se.
ditious, was to dine. Boswell, after surmount-
ing very formidable obstacles, was successful;
and the polite attentions of Wilkes conciliated
Johnson. Boswell details the attentions with
his usual minuteness; he dwells particularly on
the assiduity with which the wit helped the
sage to roast veal, and the eloquence with which
he recommended stuffing, butter, and lemons,
with a peroration on savoury fat and brown.
Boswell afterwards narrated to Burke the his
tory preliminary to this dinner, and unfolded.
his own efforts and difficulties in effectuating
the important interview. He describes the op-
position made by the Doctor's housekeeper ta
xk
[250]
his dining abroad; his own embassy to that
personage, and the persuasive oratory by which
he prevailed on her to consent; his throbbing
exultation when the wise man called for a clean
shirt; and finally, the completion of his joy,
when he got the object of his adoration into a
hackney coach. Boswell records that Burke
gave him much credit for this very able and
successful negociation; and said, that there was
nothing equal to it in the whole history of the
corps diplomatique. The politeness and benevo
lence of Burke would not mortify inoffensive
vanity, or repress well-meaning officiousness,
Boswell thought the remark a very high com.
pliment. Indeed he had a very happy dispo-
sition, to te pleased with praises which many
others would have disliked as ironical.
In America hostilities were now commenced.
It had frequently been asserted in parliament
that the colonists were cowards. One gentle-
man declared that with three thousand men he
could over-ren America. This opinion was
also very generally received out of the house.
Hardly was there to be met a half pay officer,
who did not, at his village club, declare, that
with two or three regiments he HIMSELF Could
subdue America. Burke, who knew the human
mind, general history as well as the particular
state, sentiments, and dispositions of the Ame
ricans, and could infer motive and action from
situation and character, entertained a far dif-
[251 ]
ferent opinion; an opinion which the first
battle between the British and provincial troops
tended to confirm. Although the colonists
were defeated at Bunker's-hill, they lost fewer
men than the British. Besides the valour of
men fighting in what they conceived to be the
cause of their own liberty, they had acquired
great dexterity in the use of arms; and were
excellent marksmen. The Americans made a
successful inroad into Canada, and penetrated
as far as Quebec.
The British Ministry not having foreseen so
vigorous a resistance, had not made the pre-
parations which coercive measures were found
to require. Indeed it does not appear that they
had been at pains, proportionate to the impor-
tance of the object, to attain full information
on the dispositions and resources of the colo-
nies: therefore, although we should admit the
justice and even the expediency of the measures
of Administration, we cannot give them much
credit for the, wisdom of their plans and vigour
of their efforts at the commencement of the
rupture. Perceiving, from the successes of the
Americans, that the present force was very in.
adequate to the purposes of coercion, they re-
solved to open the following campaign with
a much more powerful armament.
The congress sent Mr. Penn and Mr. Lee
to London, to represent " the injustice sus-
tained from the new system of statutes and re-
'
t
[252]
>
;
*
gulations; to state that they had been forced
to take up arms in their own defence; to depre-
cate the farther effusion of blood; and to pray
that his Majesty would adopt some mode for
the repeal of the hurtful acts.' A petition to
this purport was signed by John Hancock, the
president, and all the members of the congress.
It was delivered to Lord Dartmouth, Secretary
of State. Soon afterwards the deputies were in-
formed that no answer would be given.
The parliament opened with a speeeh, de-
claring the necessity of coercion. An address
was proposed, echoing as usual the speech, to
which a very able opposition was made. Burke,
besides going over the grounds of injustice and
inexpediency, demonstrated, that the Minis-
ters were either very deficient in point of infor-
mation, or in faithful reports to parliament.-
They had, he said, given false accounts, repre-
senting dissatisfaction as confined to Boston,
although it was well known to impartial enqui-
rers that it had pervaded the colonies. He had
himself repeatedly asserted, that the discontent
was generally prevalent: the event had proved
him to be right. Ministers, he argued, were either
weak, in adopting momentous measures, or in-
adequate in information, or wicked in concealing
the knowledge they possessed; and in either case
unworthy of being trusted any longer with the
conduct of affairs. He entered into a very minute.
[ 258 ]
recapitulation of the boasts of Ministry, and
contrasted them, with very severe humour, with
the actual performance.
-
Fox, on the same occasion, poured forth a
torrent of his powerful eloquence. In the plain,
forcible language which forms one of the many
excellencies of his speeches, he shewed what
ought to have been done, what Ministers said
would be done, and what was done. "Lord
Chatham," he said, "the King of Prussia, nay,
Alexander the Great, never gained more in one
campaign than Lord North lost he has lost a
whole continent." His sagacious mind, at the
commencement of the war, foresaw the event.
Fox perceived, and predicted, that men fight-
ing for their liberty would be ultimately suc-
cessful. He tried to dissuade his country from
war, foreboding discomfiture and distress from
such a contest. The admonitions of this great
man were disregarded. His country hearkened
not to his warning voice. The actual disaster and
consequent calamity far exceeded the anticipa-
tion of even Fox's foresight.
F.
› November 16th, 1775, Burke brought for-
ward a new conciliatory bill. In his two cele-
brated speeches of the preceding session and
the session before that, he had grounded his
propositions of amity upon the mutual INTERESTS
of the mother country and the colonies. The
ground of his present motion was the RIGHT of
subjects of this realm to grant or withhold all
[254]
>
taxes, as recognized by the great financial sta
tute passed in the reign of Edward I.-statutum
de tallagio non concedendo. On this statute, hé
observed, rested the security of property from ar-
bitrary invasion: a security which constituted
one of the most striking differences between
Britain and absolute governments. He de-
monstrated the impracticability of the Ameri.
can subjects of Britain enjoying this privilege
by representation in parliament, on account
of the immense distance; and, therefore, that
to be on an equal footing with other British sub-
jects, they should be taxed by their own assem-
blies. Edward, one of the wisest and most
vigorous sovereigns that ever sate upon the
throne of England, had, on a dispute about
taxation breaking out between him and his peo-
ple, agreed to this law rather than continue the
contest, so hurtful to both parties. In describ-
ing the character of Edward, he drew the line
between the firmness of wisdom and the obsti-.
}
65
">
nacy of folly. Wisdom pursued her ends no
longer than she found them to be attainable
and salutary. Folly, unable to distinguish, and
filled with conceit, often continued to seek obs
jects, merely because she had once done so."
Burke proposed a bill, in the spirit of that fa-
mous statute, to renounce the future exercise
of taxation without discussing the abstracţ
question of right, to repeal all the laws com-
plained of by the colonies, and to pass an im-
***
[255]
;
Â
mediate amnesty. From the petition of the
congress, the evidence of Mr. Penn, and many
others, he inferred, that the bill would satisfy
America The speech was esteemed by both
parties a most finished piece of eloquence; and,
as well as the two other orations, and indeed
most of the writings of Burke, shewed the igno.
rance and folly of those who assert, that Burke
rarely speaks to the understanding, and chiefly
to the imagination. It embraced every consi-
deration of justice and expediency, dehortatory
of war and recommendatory of peace. The
views of Burke, on both the right and the pru-
dence of the proceedings of government, from
the commencement of the contest to this last
effort to prevent children and parents embru-
ing their hands in the blood of each other, had
been the same. "It is impolitic to provoke to
a separation from the mother-country colonies
which contribute so largely to its wealth and
prosperity. It is inconsistent with the constitu-
tion of Britain that any subject should be taxed
but by himself or his representatives. Such,
from a concurrence of causes, is the disposition
of the Americans, that they will resist whatever
they conceive to be oppression. If recourse be
had to the sword, the conquest of America, at
such a distance, in a country so intersected by
rivers, entangled by woods, and fortified by
mountains, its inhabitants inspired by the love
of liberty, will be difficult, if not impracticable.
[256]
Should it be at all possible, it must be with an
immense effusion of blood and treasure; after
America is so exhausted as to be unable to af
ford any indemnification. Our European ri-
vals will watch the opportunity of intestine dis-
sensions, and we shall be involved in a general
war." These were the predictions of wisdom-
HEU NON CREDITA TEUCRIS!
To whatever subject Burke turned his thoughts,
he looked before, behind, and about him :
αμα προσσω και οπίσσω
Λευςςει, όπως ο χ' ἄριστα μετ' αμφοτέροιςι γενηται.
** Turns on all hands his deep discerning eyes;
"Sees what befel, and what may yet befal;
"Concludes from both, and best provides for all.”
Burke was not a man of ephemerous expe-
dients, but of permanent plans. He not only
saw what was actually the case, but what was
the cause, and what was or would be the effect.
The Minister talked of pacific assurances from
foreign powers. The little details of diplo.
matique intrigue were not the grounds on
which Burke formed his conclusions. He
viewed human nature, and could from situation
infer objects and passion, motive and action.
He concluded that an opportunity of humbling
a powerful and triumphant rival would not be
slipt while such passions as pride and ambition
existed. He knew history in detail, but stu-
died it in principle. From considering the
[ 257 ]
1
:
conduct of France in her relations of peace,
neutrality, alliance, and war, with different
powers of Europe, he could find the main'
spring of her policy. He saw ambition to be
her ruling motive; that her enmity was in pro-
portion to the obstacles, to the gratification of
that passion': that while extension of territorial
power was her principal object, the house of
Austria had been the chief butt of her attacks;
but that from the time that terrestrial supe
riority came to be considered as secondary to
naval, Britain had been her most dreaded
enemy. For near a century this country had
been indirectly her most formidable opponent
by land, and directly her conqueror by sea.
Britain had been the soul of every confederacy
that had repressed her ambition; and in the
preceding war had obtained a superiority un-
precedented in former contests. The great
naval power of England she beheld with jea-
lousy, envy, resentment, and terror. She
would rejoice at an internal contest which
would employ great part of the British force,
and enable her, and her dependent, Spain, to
attack her triumphant rival with considerable
probability of success. From these considera-
tions, Burke concluded that a war with France
and Spain would be a certain consequence of
our perseverance in attempting to coerce Ame-
rica, and adduced that apprehension as a for-
cible collateral argument to assist his direct
Ll
}
t
1
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1
}
[258]
reasoning in favour of conciliation. Thus did
this illustrious senator, from the commence-
ment of the dispute with the colonies and dur-
ing its progress, until it ripened into civil war,
direct the full force of his extraordinary know-
ledge and powers to avert and prevent the
rupture. If it would have been better for this
country to have avoided war with her colonies,
then was she indebted to the efforts of Burke in
endeavouring to preserve peace. If the events
not only in general, but in a great measure in
detail, were such as he predicted, then must we
give much praise to his sagacity and wisdom.
If we acknowledge that the loss from the con-
test overbalanced the gain; if we admit that
our advantage was not equivalent to myriads of
men slain and to one hundred millions of debt
incurred, we must allow that it would have
been fortunate for Britain if she had followed
the counsels of Burke. When we consider the
CONSEQUENCES of the American war, not merely
immediately as affecting Britain, in the waste of
men and money, in the incumbrances entailed
on posterity, and the increased price of every
article of convenience, and even of necessity;
but as affecting France, and through her Europe
in general, and Britain in particular; that but
for the revolution in America, the revolution
in France probably either would not so soon
have taken place, or would have been much
less democratical, and in the natural course
[289].
less turbulent and despotical to herself, and dan.
gerous and hurtful to her neighbours, we must
wish that Government had followed the often
repeated advice of Edmund Burke,
It has been frequently asserted, that the vio-
lence of Opposition stimulated the Americans
to commence resistance, and encouraged its
continuance: that, therefore, first, the American
war, and next, its bad success, was owing to the
opponents of government in this country, and
above all to the ablest, most persevering,
and constant of those opponents--to Shelburne,
Chatham, Dunning, Fox, and Burke.
If our proceedings were originally unjust
and unconstitutional, then were these senators
right in their opposition. But to suppose that
their abilities and eloquence caused the success-
ful resistance of America, is supposing a cause,
which, in the usual operation of moral causes as
known from experience, was very inadequate to
the effect. How the speeches of those at the dis-
tance of several thousand miles could enable
men to make a successful stand against great
armies, it is difficult to conceive; as difficult
indeed in general, as it would be in particular,
if one to assert that the capture of Bur-
goyne's army by General Gates, and Cornwal-
lis's by General Green, were owing to Charles
Fox and Edmund Burke. Other causes, both
physical and moral, are easily discovered for
these two events and the general success of the
*
$
4
[260]
1
}
Americans. Men will fight with the greatest
vigour for their liberties, real or imagined, or
whatever else warmly interests them. Men
can fight with much greater advantage where
they do know the country than where they do
not. If America was conquerable by England,
it must be by the men and money of England.
These were under the direction of Government,
through the majority in parliament. Whatever
troops were proposed by Ministry for any des
tination, whatever money was said to be neces-
sary for their equipment and maintenance, was
granted. They had the choice of the com-
manders, and it was their own fault, if they
chose improper persons. Strange would it be
if opposition eloquence was to be the cause
which rendered all those advantages ineffec-
tual!
The cause which Burke so powerfully es
poused, had, besides Johnson, some able literary
opponents, and, besides himself, some able lite-
rary defenders. He, of political antagonists,
between whom and Burke there was the great-
est degree of contention, was Doctor Tucker.
That gentleman, Dean of Gloucester and Pre-
bend of Bristol, had made commerce a princi-
pal object of his study, had distinguished
himself by several ingenious publications on
trade, and had turned his attention to the con-
test arising between America and her mother
[261]
*
country owing to the revenue laws. Doctor
Tucker had asserted that the opposition to the
stamp act had encouraged the Americans to
resistance. His opinion had drawn forth the
severe animadversion of Burke in his speech on
American taxation..." This (he says) has for-
merly appeared in print, in a regular volume,
from an advocate of thatfaction, (court favourites)
a Doctor Tucker, This Doctor Tucker is alrea-
dy a Dean, and his earnest labours in this
vineyard will, I suppose, raise him to `a bishop-
ric. But this assertion too, just like the rest, is
false." The idea, that a Dean would serve the
court in order to become a bishop, was certainly
derogatory, to the clerical character. Doctor
Tucker disavowed so corrupt motives, in a let-
ter addressed to Mr. Burke,
CC
In that letter he endeavoured to draw Mr.
Burke's character, as a speaker and a writer, in
the following words: My only difficulty,"
says he," is to state your meaning with accu.
racy and precision. Not that you yourself are
unable to express your own thoughts with the
utmost clearness, as well as energy, but you
are unwilling; for you excel in the art of am-
biguous expressions, i. e.. in giving one sense
to your readers, and reserving another to your-
self, if called upon to defend what you have
said. You excel, I say, in this art, perhaps thé
most of any man living. Sometimes you ex-
press more than you mean, and at other times
t
1
1
[ 262 ]
less; but at all times you have one general end
in view, viz. to amuse with tropes and figures,
and great swelling words, your audience or your
readers, and not to let them see your drift and
intention till you have drawn your net around
them." That Burke could express himself with
great ambiguity, and involve his meaning in
tropes and figures, is undoubtedly true; he could
speak or write in any style he chose: but this
speech, to which Dr. Tucker' refers, is as per
spicuous as any speech that could be written, as
an impartial reader must immediately perceive,
The passage respecting Tucker himself is as clear
as any in the whole speech, and without a trope
or figure from the beginning to the end of it.-
Burke's allegation is simply this Tucker as-
serts, that the opposition in parliament to the
stamp-act caused the disturbances in America.
"This assertion is false. In all the papers which
have loaded your table, in all the vast crowd
of verbal witnesses that appeared at your bar
-witnesses which were indiscriminately pro-
duced from both sides of the house, not the
least hint of such a cause of disturbance has ever
appeared." Burke's meaning here is obvious,
and perfectly free from the studied ambiguity
imputed to him by the Dean: plainer or more
precise language cannot be found. His con-
jecture also about Tucker's motives, whether
just or not, is certainly so expressed as to be
very intelligible. It would appear that the
के
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}
↑ 263 1
Dean, who is himself a very vigorous and pre-
cise reasoner when he chuses, here instead of
speaking directly to the point, the primary
causes of the disturbances in America, and to
Burke's particular attack on his arguments,
turns aside to irrelative observations on Burke's
general mode of expression.
Some months after this reply, when, at the
general election, a great body of the Bristol
voters requested (as has been said) Burke to
stand candidate, Dr. Tucker exerted himself
to oppose his success. In this opposition he co-
operated with Lord Nugent, who was the friend
of Tucker, and inimical to the party that sup-
ported Burke. The Dean now proposed a plan,
differing on the one hand from the conciliatory
intention of Burke, on the other from the coer-
cive plans of Ministry. This was, a total se-
paration of the mother country from the colo-
nies; a proposition attacked in Johnson's mi-
nisterial Taxation no Tyranny, and mentioned
with the most slighting contempt in Burke's
Speech on Conciliation. "Another plan has in-
deed been started, that of giving up the colo-
nies; but it met so slight a reception, that I do
not think myself obliged to dwell a great while
upon it. It is nothing but a little sally of anger,
like the frowardness of peevish children; who,
when they cannot get all they would have, are
resolved to have nothing at all.". From the event
it appears, that even a total separation would
[264]
have been more fortunate for us without hosti-
lities, than a plan of coercion, which, after a
long and expensive war, was to end with that
separation. The event has justified the antici-
pation of Dean Tucker's sagacity.
The Minister proposed a bill to prohibit all
trade and commerce with the United Colonies,
with severe penalties against those who should
transgress the law; and commissioners to en-
force its observance. One of the ablest sup-
porters of the proposition was Mr. Wedder-
burne, who reasoned with an ingenuity that
few could equal. Burke opposed the motion
with his usual ability, as of the greatest detri-
ment to Britain, and ineffectual against Ame-
rica. "When the colonies (he said) found they
would not be supplied by this country, they
would go to other markets. Britain would lose
a great source of wealth, with little annoyance
to the colonies, and to the gain of foreign na-
tions. Besides future trade, it would be inju
rious as to the past, as great debts were owing
to the British merchants from the colonies; and
if all commerce was prohibited, an immediate
stop would be put to payments: that thus
merchants would be ruined without the cause
of government being advanced. The bill was
retrospective, for by it the Minister inflicted
punishment for acts thought innocent when
committed. Our Saviour sent his apostles to
teach and proclaim peace to all nations; but
I
}
A
*
[ 265 J
{
the political apostles, to be sent out by the Mi-
nister, would be harbingers of civil war, in all
Its most horrid and hideous forms, accompanied
by fire, sword, and famine." Fox also made a
strenuous opposition to the bill, but it availed
nothing; it was passed into a law. As this
scheme was alledged to be contrived to starve
America, and imputed to a Scotchman, it gave -
rise to many jokes. Wilkes, speaking of this
bill, and perhaps also alluding to the slender-
ness of the Solicitor's person, called him Starva-
tion Wedderburne. Mr. Dundas - distinguished
himself on this question, by his plain, strong
reasoning; and though somewhat laughed at for
his pronunciation by those that attended to
sound more than to sense, was heard with great
attention by the leading men of Opposition, as
well as by his own party. Whatever jokes he un-
'derwent on account of his broad Scòtch; no one,
that looked in his face could, on that ground,
call him STARVATION Harry. Mr. David Hart.
ley proposed a conciliatory bill, somewhat dif-
ferent in detail from Burke's, but on the same
general principles, the abandonment of taxa-
tion, and the repeal of the obnoxious laws.
Burke supported this bill, but to no effect.
All attempts being unavailing to prevent the
continuance of the war, its conduct next be-
came a subject of animadversion. In the dis-
cussion of this subject' Fox took the lead. The
Americans, he contended, had been successful
Mm
[266]
in the preceding campaign, that their success
must be owing either to the weakness and in-
adequacy of the ministerial plans, or to the mis-
conduct, or misfortune of the military and na-
val commanders; and therefore moved an in-
quiry, as the means of fixing the blame, if there
was any, or ascertaining if there was not.
Admitting (said Mr. Fox) the coercion of
America to be right, the question is about the
means. The means have not hitherto answered
the end: we must inquire to what that has
been owing, that we may hereafter either em-
ploy better means or apply them more vigor-
ously. If we wish to subdue America let us
see how it is to be done; and for that purpose,
what has till now prevented our progress."
Fox pressed the necessity of an inquiry with
such force, that the Ministry could not answer
him directly, but were obliged to elude the
question by the common-place pretext of this
not being the proper time for an inquiry: an
answer that certainly saves the trouble of mak-
ing any reply to the most unanswerable reason-
ing. Indeed, whenever Fox chose the right
side, and brought forward the full force of his
mind in supporting it, evasion was the most
prudent mode of opposition to his arguments.
-Opimus
Fallere et effugere est triumphus.
A petition being presented against the pro-
hibitory bill from the West-India merchants,
[267]
ghan
for the immense loss that must accrue to them
by the interclusion of commerce with America,
Burke shewed himself completely master of the
West India trade, and entered into a very ac-
curate detail of the various articles of traffic
between the Islands and the Colonies. Finding
that the Ministry paid no regard to the petition,
or to any information tending to shew the hurt-
fulness of the contest with America, he pro-
posed the following ironical resolution: "That
it is necessary and proper to come to a resolu-
tion, that evidence concerning the state of
America, the temper of the people there, and
the probable resolutions of an act now depend-
ing, is unnecessary to this house, this house
being already sufficiently acquainted with these
matters." When we recollect the obstinacy
with which Ministry refused to listen to any
representations in favour of America, or to
examine evidence on the subject, we must
allow that the irony was fair. In discussing
this question, both parties went over the whole
grounds of the American dispute: the Mini-
sters declared themselves convinced that the
provincials would yield on the first appearance
of the great armament then preparing against
them, and avowed that nothing short of un-
conditional submission would satisfy Govern-
ment. Burke persisted in supporting his uni-
form opinion to the contrary; and from the
treasures of his historical knowledge quoted
1
[268]
+
examples of the fate of armaments sent to a
distant country, and dwelt on the destruction
of the fleet and army of the Athenians at
Syracuse. Among many instances of the suc
cessful resistance of men fighting for their li
berty, he entered at large into that of the Unit
ed Provinces, against which forces were not to
be sent at the distance of three thousand miles,
but from their neighbourhood, forces much,
more numerous and equally disciplined, and
against a much inferior body of people to the
Americans, both in number and resources.
Burke is believed to be the author, or at least
the reviser of various pamphlets and essays not
avowed by him, censuring the measures of Go;
vernment. It is certain that
It is certain that many of the writ-
ings on that side contain arguments that had
been used by Burke.
The Ministerial writers were more numerous
than the Opposition, but less able. Except
Johnson, Dr. Fergusson, Dean Tucker, and
Mr. Baron, the writers for Ministry were
mostly men of inconsiderable talents. Dr.
Fergusson's pamphlet contained the most inge-
nious reasoning: Mr. Baron's account of the
state of ancient colonies shewed much informa-
tion, but did not afford either new or strong
arguments; the question not being how an-
cient states treated their colonies, but how it
was right and expedient for Great Britain to
treat her colonies in the existing circumstances,
A
}
}
E 269]
A history made its appearance about this time,
which, with a considerable degree of intrinsic
merit, had the extrinsic advantage of being on
a subject analogous to the great matter in dis-
pute: Watson's History of Philip II. compre
hending the rise, progress, and successful issue
of the assertion of liberty by the Low Countries,
and shewing in detail, from recent example,
what Burke so frequently pressed on the atten-
tion of the house-the energy with which men,
even before not accustomed to war, fight in
vindication of what either are or they think
their rights.
The Annual Register has been generally as-
cribed to Burke; but from internal evidence I
should apprehend, that although it might be
directed by him, he did not take a great share
in the composition.
Although Burke was not successful in his
great object, the prevention of the American
war, he exerted his powers to endeavour to
lessen its expensiveness. His details on this
subject were very correct, and very important,
giving a most exact account of what might have
been spent, and what was spent; shewing, that
the Minister gave contracts, to answer parlia-
mentary purposes, on terms much worse for
Government than some would have offered. On
the subject of expence, as on every other, he
was the oracle that was consulted by his party.
There might be among the Opposition several
/
1
[ 270 ]
men equal to him in some things, but none in
all. In close logical deduction he was, no doubt,
equalled by Camden, in precision by Dunning,
in foreign information by Shelburne, in ani-
mated eloquence by Chatham, in strength of
reasoning, he, or no man, exceeded Charles
Fox: but, on the whole, no man of Opposition,
in either house, equalled, or nearly equalled,
Edmund Burke; and if we were even to' take
the two ablest men away from the Opposition
during the American war; if Burke and Fox
had been neutral, the balance of talents would
still have been in favour of the Whig party. In
the upper house there were three men of very
great talents on the one side, and one on the
other. Camden had no equal among the friends
of Ministry except Mansfield, whom it is evi-
dent he fully matched in logical reasoning, al-
though he fell short of him in graceful oratory,
in fascinating and persuasive eloquence; and
certainly surpassed him in the knowledge of
the constitution. Chatham and Shelburne had
no equals, except the same great law lord; nor
were there any of the ministerial members of
the House of Commons, whom any one, that
knew the history and characters of the times,
would think of placing on a footing with Chat-
ham and Camden. But when to such men we add
Burke and Fox, where were their equals to be
found?
Although Burke adhered closely to a party,
he by no means went every length with its most
[ 271 ]
}
violent members. Mr. Wilkes made a motion
for a reform in parliament, which Burke did
not think seasonable in time of war. Lord North
treated the subject in too ridiculous a manner.
Burke proposed this session a very humane
bill," to prevent the inhuman custom of plun-
dering ships wrecked on the coast of Great Bri-
tain, and for the farther relief of ships in dis-
tress on the said coast." At first Ministry did
not seem averse to it, but at last it was thrown
out by a considerable majority.
Although the American war had been de-
monstrated by the ablest reasoners, both in and
out of parliament, to be unjust and inexpedi-
ent; and although its effects were severely felt
by the manufacturing and trading towns, in
many parts of the country it was extremely
popular. No pains were spared by Ministers
to make it pass for a war to maintain the just
rights, and the most momentous interests of
Britain. It was inculcated by the court, that
if we should succeed in coercing America, we
should receive so great a revenue from that
country, as to make an important diminution
of taxes. The belief, that the coercion of the
colonies tended to lessen the burthens at home,
made numbers well affected to the war. The
grandees connected with the court contributed
their efforts to spread this spirit. Many of the
inferior gentry took it for granted, especially
in those parts in which the remains of feu-
[272]
#
dal notions gave more than the constitutional
weight to the nobility, adopted the opinions
which they found embraced by Lords and
Dukes, and concurred in stigmatizing as rebels
every one who opposed the plans of Administra-
tion. A considerable part of the trading inte-
rest saw the prospect of contracts and other pro-
fits of war. The pulpits, too often the vehicles
of popular delusion, mindless of the meek and
peaceful doctrines, precepts, and examples of
him whom they professed to obey and follow,
thundered out imprecations of vengeance
against the defenders of their liberties. If any
of the number, instead of calling upon God to
hurl down destruction, instead of beseeching ins
finite Goodness to become the agent of malig-
nity, in the true spirit of morality, piety, and
Christianity, prayed for peace between the mo-
ther country and her colonies," to turn thẻ
hearts of the parents to the children, and the
children to the parents," he was sure to be re-
viled as a rebel. The BEST INFORMED AND ABLEST
men, however, in all parts of the country (ex.
cept those by possession or expectation linked
with the court or courtiers) reprobated the war
with America. But if the informed and the
able could reason, the ignorant and the weak
could rail. Those who could not refute the
arguments of a Chatham, a Fox, and a Burke,
were at no loss for opprobrious names. They
styled the supporters of liberty, and the enemies
7
3
[ 279 ]
of war, Yankees, Republicans, Cromwellians,
and Levellers. Burke was peculiarly obnoxi-
ous, because he had been (of very able men)
the longest, most constant, and persevering
opposer of American taxation and coercion.
The common talk among courtiers and their
dependents in town, the nobility and their re-
tainers in the country, was, that the Americans
were rebels, and that the rebellion was owing
to Opposition leaders. Burke was not moved,
by the attacks of servility and selfishness, from
the road of patriotism; nor, by the frivolous de
famation of ignorance and folly, from the mea-
sures of wisdom; measures unhappily not
adopted by his country.
His enlarged mind did not enter into all
the narrow views even of his own party.
When Mr.Thomas Townshend, a zealous Whig,
expressed his disapprobation of pensions given
to Tory writers, and among others even that of
Johnson, Burke defended the propriety of that
pension as a tribute to merit of the highest
kind, not a purchase of mean service.
Burke was also very liberal in his encomiums
on Lord North's general abilities and disposi
tions, however he disliked his political mea-
sures He used to say he possessed one of the
best heads and one of the best hearts in the
world; he thought that, in point of sterling
wit, he excelled all men. This regard was re.
ciprocal; there was no man whom Lord North
N n
1
[ 274 ]
so greatly admired, and very few whoni he was
privately more desirous to oblige. Burke often
applied to him in behalf of his friends, and
never in vain, if no political interest interfered:
"There is, my Lord, (he would say) an office
vacant that would just suit a very able and
worthy friend of mine; if you have no parlia-
mentary interest to answer, do let him have
the place." "In this case I am happy, my
dear Mr. Burke, I can gratify you." It indeed
was not surprising that two of the ablest and
most amiable men in the nation should cherish
private esteem and regard, notwithstanding po-
litical enmity. On the other hand, there were.
some of his political associates that he privately
disliked; one nobleman, in particular, gene-
rally accused of duplicity, he always carefully
avoided as a JESUIT.
The campaign of 1776 was more successful
than the preceding, as every political reader
must remember. The advantages, however, did
not seem to bring the subjugation of America
any nearer than it was. The Americans were
at first somewhat disheartened by the successes
of the British ; but finding that they either did
not or could not pursue their victories, resumed
their spirits. Resentment also contributed to
this effect. Unconditional submission was re-
quired of them, and peace offered to those only
who surrendered at discretion. Finding them-
selves placed on a footing quite different from
1
[275]
other British subjects, and that they were de
clared rebels, because they would not submit to
taxation but by themselves and their repre-
sentatives, they resolved to assert their inde-
pendence. They considered protection and
allegiance as relative duties precisely commen-
surate, and contended that the King's refusal to
attend to their petitions and to redress their
grievances was an exclusion of the colonies
from his protection; and as protection and al-
legiance were subjects of barter, if the one
was withheld, the other could not be granted.
The congress, in conformity with the instruc-
tions of the delegates from their constituents,
declared America independent. After detail-
ing their various grievances, they concluded,
"that on account of the King of Great Bri-
tain having refused to redress them, the inha-
bitants of the United Colonies were thereby
discharged and absolved from all allegiance
and obedience to him." This declaration was
ratified by most of the provincial assemblies,
A pamphlet, entitled "Common Sense," pub-
lished by Thomas Paine, afterwards so famous
in Europe, contributed very much to the rati
fication of the independence of America. It
was written with that plain and simple energy
which he can exert on any subject within the
reach of his knowledge, and which makes even
sophistry impressive on untutored minds, that
W
[276]
$
{
こ
​judge more from the strength of the language
than the truth of the arguments.
Proposals for peace were made by the Bri-
tish commanders to the Americans. The
Americans, having once asserted their indepen-
dence, were determined to preserve it, and re-
fused to admit any proposals but as an inde-
pendent state..
When parliament met, a motion was made.
by Lord John Cavendish on the grounds of one
of the proclamations by the Howe's, offering
pardon to all Americans who should return.
to their allegiance, and offering to such a
revision of the obnoxious measures. Lord
John proposed, that the house should en-
ter into a committee for the revisal of the acts.
This measure was supported by the utmost abi-
lity of Burke, who, it must be confessed, was
frequently led by party to greater lengths than
impartial judgment could approve, though
never to extremities. He certainly could not
have expected that the motion would have pro-
duced any good effect. The Americans had
made no overtures for conciliation, and refused
to admit any but on a ground to which British
acts could not apply. What purpose could it
serve to make or unmake laws for a country
declaring itself totally unconnected with the
enactors? Besides, as war was actually com-
menced, whether it was originally right or
wrong, the object was peace on the best terms
[277] ·
that could be had. Concession on one side, with-
out any on the other, is not the way to pro-
cure honourable terms of peace. Such a con-
cession would have tended to increase the de-
mands of the Americans, instead of inducing
them to come forward with reasonable offers.
Lord North proposed two bills respecting
America: one for issuing out letters of marque,
another for a suspension of the habeas corpus
as far as the Americans were concerned. This
was called the treason and piracy bill, on the
ground that the Americans were British sub.
jects, and consequently in fighting against
Britain wère guilty of treason; and if in pri-
vateers, or any other ships attacking or taking
vessels belonging to Britain, must be guilty of
piracy. This latter bill was very ably opposed
by Mr. Dunning, on the ground that nothing
short of a rebellion in the heart of the kingdom
existing, or apprehended, justified the suspen-
sion of this important law; that the power of
detaining persons on mere suspicion, without
bringing them to a trial, invested Ministers with
a dictatorial authority inconsistent with perso
nal liberty and security. Burke and some
others of the leading members of Opposition
withdrew from the house when this or any
question respecting America was discussed.
They did attend on ordinary business, but im-
mediately after that was dispatched retired.
They said, they were tired with opposing rea.
son and argument to superior power and num-
}
[278]
7
bers. This secession was not approved of by
Opposition in general, and indeed does not ap-
pear justifiable. Eloquence, as Burke observ-
ed on another occasion, though it might not
procure à majority to members of Opposition,
was not without its effect, in modifying mea-
sures of Ministry. Indeed a very recent in-
stance shewed, that as the late bill had, in con-
sequence of the masterly discussion it under-
went, been modified and defined in a manner
it would not have been without that opposi
tion, if the bill was bad, the opposition on the
whole did good.
The object of this life not being to support
any hypothesis concerning Burke's consistency
or inconsistency, but impartially to narrate
facts, and at the close to form a summary of the
character, I think it my duty to state truth,
whatever effect the statement may have.
Secession from parliament being uncommon,
though not unprecedented, Burke considered
it as incumbent on him to justify his conduct.
He wrote an address to the king, stating the
motives of the seceders.
The address has been printed in several of
the newspapers, and contains Burke's notions
respecting the British constitution, and the va-
rious great events by which it has been effect.
ed. As it never has been avowedly published
as Burke's, for the sake of those readers who
may not have seen the papers in which it was
A
[ 279 ]
+
•
inserted, I shall-endeavour to give the sub-
stance, with extracts from the most material
parts.
The justificatory memorial sets out with re-
presenting to his Majesty the distracted state of
affairs. Our situation it imputes to the mis-
conduct of Government. The alledged mis-
conduct, after considerable detail, it generalizes
into the following short description. "That
grievance is as simple in its nature, and as level
to the most ordinary understanding, as it is
powerful in affecting the most languid passions.
It is an attempt made to dispose of the pro-
perty of a whole people, without their con-
sent. Your Majesty's subjects in the colonies,
possessing the ordinary faculties of mankind,
know, that to live under such a plan of govern-
ment, is not to live in a state of freedom. The
sense of a whole people, most gracious sove-
reign, never ought to be contemned by wise
and beneficent rulers. When no means are
possessed of power to awe, or to oblige, the
strongest ties which connect mankind in every
relation, social and civil, and which teach them
mutually to respect each other, are broken. In-
dependence from that moment virtually exists.
In this state of things, we were of opinion, that
satisfaction ought instantly to be given, or that,
at least, the punishment of the disorder ought
to be attended with the redress of the griev-
ances. Because, whenever a disorder arises
[ 280 ]
from, and is directly connected with a griev-
ance, to confine ourselves to the punishment
of the disorder, is to declare against the rea.
son and justice of the complaint. The methods
recommended and followed, as infallible means
of restoring peace and order, we could not
consider as at all adapted to their purposes.--
We could not conceive, when disorders had
arisen from the complaint of one violated right,
that to violate every other was the proper
means of quieting exasperated minds. Re-
course was had to force, and we saw a force
sent out, enough to menace liberty, but not to
awe resistance." He afterwards goes over the
various measures of Government, both of co-
ercion and conciliation, shewing both to be in-
adequate; affirms, that in the barbarity of the
Germans and the atrocity of the American sa-
vages there was the infliction of misery without
the advancement of conquest. He proceeds
to the arbitrary doctrines which were becoming
prevalent, and as a contrast to these boldly
describes the principles of the revolution, and
of the establishment of the Brunswick family
on the throne of England.
""
Sire, your throne cannot stand secure upon
the principles of unconditional submission, or
passive obedience,-on powers exercised with-
out the concurrence of the people to be go-
verned,-on acts made in defiance of their pre.
judices and habits,-on acquiescence procured
[281]
by foreign mercenary troops, and secured by
standing armies. They may possibly be the
foundation of other thrones: they must be the
subversion of yours.
"It was not to passive principles in our an-
cestors that we owe the honour of appearing
before a Sovereign, who cannot feel that he is
a prince without knowing that we ought to be
free. The revolution is a departure from the
ancient course of the descent of this monarchy
-the people re-entered into their original
rights; and it was not because a positive law au-
thorized the act, but because the freedom and
safety of the subject, the origin and causes of
all laws, required a proceeding paramount and
superior to them. At that ever-memorable and
instructive period, the letter of the law was su
perseded in favour of the substance of liberty.
To the free choice, therefore, of the people, with-
out either King or Parliament, we owe that hap-
py establishment, of which both King and Par-
liament were regenerated.”
This representation to the Sovereign, which
may be very justly styled a remonstrance, did
not meet with the approbation of other chief
men of the party. He therefore desisted from
his intention.
Anxious to do justice to the subject of this
narrative, I think it my duty to mark the oc-
casional excess of his zeal for liberty, and of
1
$
f
3
[ 282 ]
other beneficial sentiments, as well as his gė
neral principles: an excess leading to evil, as
their wise and moderate operation led to good.
His principles were indeed those of the most
enlarged, liberal, and practical philosophy; but
in his application of them he was not unfre-
quently misled by fancy, or transported by pas-
sion, to notions, expressions, and. conduct,
which his understanding, when unbiassed, could
by no means approve. Whatever his ardent
mind pursued, it pursued with its full force.—
No understanding could take a wider or more
comprehensive survey of the connections and
relations of objects; yet his eager contempla-
tion of whatever engaged his attention, or in-
terested his affections, made him frequently
overlook important parts of the prospect. If
he viewed liberty, he would sometimes omit to
turn his eyes to order; if order, to liberty.
1
f
Burke laid similar sentiments before the
public, in a Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, his
constituent city.
Were we to consider the speech of an orator
as we do the theorem of a mathematician, as
stating a proposition either to be true or false,
and by a chain of intermediations proving the
asserted truth or falsehood; and to consider
the speech as good or bad accordingly, as we
should the demonstrations, many speeches of
the highest celebrity, the result of very great ta-
lents and knowledge, would be in no estimation.
1
200
[283]
1
Cicero's oration in defence of Milo does not
make out the case. He assumes that Clodius
intended to attack Milo; and from that assump-
tion of intention assumes that he actually did
attack from the two assumiptions he infers
the killing of Clodius to be justifiable homi-
cide in self-defence. There is no evidence to
support either of the assumptions. The ag-
gression not being proved to have been on the
side of Clodius, Milo could not be proved to
have killed him in self-defence. Cicero there.
fore does not demonstrate that which was to be
demonstrated. The orator, however, is ad-
mired not for MAKING OUT THE CASE, but for
the ingenuity of the deductions from assumed
premises, and for the pathetic sentiments, for
displaying a very strong understanding and a
very feeling heart. The same observation ap-
plies to many of the orations of other eminent
speakers: we must often consider them rather
as exhibitions of the general ability, knowledge,
or feelings of the author, than,as evictions of the
truths undertaken to be proved.
ง
. If we consider Burke's Letter to the Sheriffs
of Bristol, and estimate its excellence by its
fitness to justify his secession from parliament,
his reasons do not amount to a justification.
But although the state of the country, and
the measures of government, even if they were
as bad as Burke.represents, do not prove that
he was right in withdrawing his assistance, the
f
3
[284]
$
letter is a fresh instance of his wonderful pow-
ers.
In examining the merits of the habeas cor-
pus suspension, from the measure he went to
its proposers, and took a wide view of the whole
of their conduct on American affairs. After
detailing the various proceedings of Govern-
ment, their injustice, inexpediency, and hurt-
ful effects, he rises to a generalization of the
principles to which they have been owing; and
the consequences, not to the colonies only but
to the spirit of our legislation,-to law, to man-
ners, and to morals.
A
In this, as in all his works, he shews his
aversion to the application of unqualified meta-
physical principles to affairs. Experience, and
not abstraction, according to Burke, ought to
be the guide in practice and in conduct. Go-
vernment, he conceived, ought to be accom-
modated to the known opinions and senti-
ments of the people: if, under the same em-
pire, provinces, or classses of men of very dif-
ferent notions should be placed, that their po-
lity ought to be diversified accordingly.
stead,” he says, "of troubling our understand-
ings, with speculations concerning the unity of
empire, and the identity or distinction of le-
gislative powers, it was our duty, in all sober-
ness, to conform our government to the cha
racter and circumstances of the several people
who composed the mighty and strangely diver-
P
" In-
1
[285]
sified mass. I never was wild enough to con-
ceive, that one method would serve for the
whole; that the natives of Hindostan and those
· of Virginia could be ordered in the same man-
ner; or that the Cutchery court and the grand
jury of Salem could be regulated on a similar
plan. I was persuaded that government was a
practical thing, made for the happiness of man-
kind; and not to furnish out a spectacle of uni-
formity, to gratify the schemes of visionary po-
liticians."
?
In speaking of the tendency of ministerial
counsels to arbitrary power, he attacks Hume
as too friendly to unlimited monarchy. He
quotes an observation from his essays in sup-
port of this assertion-" Mr. Hume," he says,
"will not be singular in telling us, that the fe
licity of mankind is no more disturbed by it
(absolute power) than by earthquakes or thun-
der, or the other more unusual accidents of na-
ture."
Burke, as I have said, was prejudiced against
Hume. That Hume was friendly to despotism,
is an opinion more consistent with a cursory
reading of his works than an accurate perusal.
Where our great historian is favourable to the
house of Stuart, he appears rather to palliate
than justify the conduct of its princes. He con-
tends, that it was natural for them to endeavour
to retain the powers which their immediate pre-
decessors had enjoyed, not that it was just; al-
*
[ 286 J
though, from the coolness of his temper, and the
profoundness of his understanding, he disap-
proved of the religious fanaticism of the Puri.
tans, he acknowledges that, as friends to li-
berty, they rendered their country important
services. He even commends their exertions,
as far as they tended to the restriction of un-
limited power, and to the establishment of such
a constitution as we now possess. He attacks
their political efforts only when they tend to the
subversion of the monarchy. Their theologi-
cal absurdities he certainly ridicules, as he also
does the high church bigotry. He exposes the
superstitious mummeries of Laud, as well as the
enthusiastic phrenzy of James Naylor or Praise
God-Barebone. He justifies resistance in cases
of great oppression. He approves of Hambden.
His philosophical mildness added to his wis
dom in reprobating turbulence; but he as se
verely condemns oppression, and stigmatises
those parliaments which were the tools of des
potism. His expanded mind is not partiću-
larly anxious to make England appear to have
possessed a great share of liberty at very early
periods: at the same time he allows, during the
Saxon reigns, there was a considerable portion!
He does not deem precedent necessary to esta
blish our rights to freedom. The existence of
a House of Commons previous to the time of
Edward I. was not the antecedent from which
such a logician as Hume educed the consequent,
[ 287 ]
$
that the people ought, by themselves or their
delegates, to have a share in the legislature.-
According to this philosophical observer and
surveyor of the progress of man, rational liberty
grew and increased with knowledge and wis-
dom. If Burke had not been incensed against
Hume, it is probable he would have considered
the general scope, rather than particular pas-
sages of his writings.
In speaking of that effects the civil war would
produce on the manners of the people, he
draws the following glowing picture :-" Civil
wars strike deepest of all into the manners of a
people. They vitiate their politics, they cor-
rupt their morals, they pervert even the natu-
ral taste and relish of equity and justice. By
teaching us to consider our fellow-citizens in an
hostile light, the whole body of our nation be-
comes gradually less dear to us: the very names
of affection and kindred, which were the bond
of charity whilst we agreed, become new incen-
tives to hatred and rage, when the communion
of our country is dissolved. We may flatter
ourselves that we shall not fall into this misfor-
tune, but we have no charter of exemption, that
I know of, from the ordinary frailties of our na-
ture."
The Earl of Abingdon wrote a pamphlet of
considerable ability and merit, in reply to
Burke's letter, at least to that part of it which
apologized for his secession from parliament.
There was also another respondent. The very
[ 288 Ì
celebrated letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, one
of the ablest performances of Edmund Burke,
was answered by Edward Topham, Esq!
Johnson disapproved very much of this letter
of Burke; he particularly ridiculed his defini-
tion of liberty. That (said Burke) is free-
dom to every practical purpose, which the
people think so." Johnson said, "I will let
the King of France govern me on those condi.
tions, for it is to be governed just as I please."
Whatever it may to a Tory, the definition will
not appear ridiculous to a Whig, nor indeed to
an impartial neutralist. Liberty is one of the
means of happiness. Happiness depends very
much on opinion. The belief, that I enjoy that
means of happiness, has to me, as long as it
lasts, the same effect as the reality: the more the
mind advances in knowledge the more will be-
lief follow reality; but it is the opinion, not its
justness, that constitutes the enjoyment.
Burke does not differ more from his political
opponent, Johnson, than from his coadjutor,
Price. If he disapproves of arbitrary bigotry
on the one hand, he scouts metaphysical refine-
ments of republicanism on the other. "There
are (he says) people who have split and ana.
tomized the doctrine of free government, as if
it were an abstract question concerning meta-
physical liberty and necessity, and not a mat-
ter of moral prudence and natural feeling.
SPECULATIONS ARE LET LOOSE, AS DESTRUCTIVE TO
[ 289 1
\
ALL AUTHORITY; as the former (slavish doċ-
trines) are to all freedom; and every government
is called tyranny and usurpation which is not-formed
on their fancies. In this manner the stirrers up of
this contention are corrupting our understandings;
they are endeavouring to tear up, along with prac-
tical liberty, all the foundations of human society, all
equity and justice, religion and order. In these,
and other observations of the same tendency,
Burke displays the power of his foresight, in
perceiving what would be the bitterness of the
fruit of doctrines then only budding. In the wild
theories at that time beginning to be framed, he
saw and reprobated the seeds of the Rights of
Man. He evidently alluded to "Price's Civil
Liberty" and Priestley's first Principles of
Government." Price felt the allusion so much,
that a considerable portion of an introduction
to an edition of his "Observations" is employ-
ed in an attempt to refute Burke. How super-
ficial examiners of the writings of both niust
those be,who assert that Dr Price and Mr. Burke,
in maintaining the cause of the Americans, dis-
cover the same political principles! There is
not in any of his writings on the French
revolution to be found principles more oppo-
site to the doctrines of the Rights of Man than
in this letter.
Although Burke did not regularly compose
any part of the Annual Register, yet when a
subject, either literary or political, of very great
P P
[290]
importance, occurred, he frequently contributed
his efforts. This year brought forward a work
on new subjects of physical and moral nature:-
Robertson's History of America. The account
of that production of industry and genius, given
in the Annual Register, bears the marks of
Burke's philosophical criticism. It shews an
extent of moral and political views, similar to
that which his writings usually display. This
examination does not teem with imagery, but
is what Burke's compositions on subjects of mere
disquisition frequently are, a connected system
of observation and deduction.
}
The same year that brought to the world a
serious peformance of the first magnitude, pro-
duced also a comedy, greatly superior to any of
the same class that had appeared since the time
of Congreve. The reader must immediately
perceive that this description can apply to no
work of the present or the last age, but the
SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL " Philosophical history
and comic poetry, both likely to descend to the
latest posterity, as they were both most excel-
lent in their kind, were coeval in their birth.
When we take a view of literary talents at this
time, we find these realms standing fully as high
as in political. In the three great departments of
genius, poetry, history, and philosophy,-the
efforts were great, and collectively equal to any
that had ever been made in any age or country.
There, no doubt, have been individuals of still
វ
[291]
greater powers than any displayed in these
times. There have been brighter luminaries,
but never a greater constellation. Indeed men
of very extraordinary genius, as is remarked by
one of the first of our living philosophers (Mr.
Dugald Steuart) have seldom existed in a lite-
rary and scientific age. But, though the indi-
vidual endowment may be greater in ages not
literary, the aggregate is much greater in learn-
ed. In poetry the number at this time was
much more limited than at several periods of
British history. Comedy appeared to have mo-
nopolized poetical excellence. In the true
sense. of the word, Burke possessed the great-
est degree of poetic genius: in common lan-
guage, however, the effusions of his prolific and
sublime imagination and ardent passions would
not be stiled poetry. In history Britain never
equalled, Rome and Greece never surpassed,
Gibbon, Robertson, and Hume. In ratiocina-
tive eloquence Rome hardly equalled, Greece
did not surpass, Fox and Burke; and no country
known to us from history presented such an
assemblage of learned and able speakers. In
criticism there was, amidst great and manifold,
though inferior excellence, the expanded views
and profound investigation of the author of the
Sublime and Beautiful, and of the writer of the
Preface to Shakespeare and of the Lives of the
Poets. Philosophy, natural and moral, abstract
and practical, was diffused over the nation;
}
*
1
E 292 3
and had numbers of skilful and successful vota.
ries. Physics rose, through gradations of most
vigorous efforts, to the researches of a Watson
and a Black, and the discoveries of a Priestley and
a Franklin. To pneumatology Reid and Fer-
gusson applied the sure mode of experiment and
investigation, laying aside hypothetical theories:
the acute and profound understandings of both
pursuing the right track, carried that abstruse
science to a perfection and certainty before un-
known. In practical philosophy, among many
exertions of great utility and note, there were
the commercial lessons of Smith and the moral
inculcations of Johnson. While other authors
were distinguishing themselves in the several
branches of literature and science, Burke ma
nifested his acquaintance with almost all. In
his speeches in parliament, he shewed himself
capable of producing history, poetry, and phi-
losophy, of the highest excellence. In the
knowledge of man he was and could be surpass-
ed by none: yet, from the theatre which he
chose, his powers and, attainments produced
much less effect than those of many greatly. his
inferiors. He narrated, he described, he rea-
soned, he reflected; his narrations, his descrip-
tions, his reasonings, his reflections, were over-
powered by ministerial majorities. Had So-
crates devoted those exertions, and that time, to
unavailing contests in public assemblies, which
he eníployed in communicating the purest and
[293]
}
}
→
sublimest morals; had Johnson bestowed on
parliamentary contention that force and labour
which gave to the world the Rambler, the Idler,
the Lives of Addison, of Pope, of Savage, Dry.
den, Milton, and the Preface to Shakespeare; had
Hume spent in the House of Commons, and in
political factions, those hours which produced
the History of England, which unfolded the
progress of man from barbarism to civilization,
which raised an illustrious monument, shewing
what was right and wrong, wise and unwise,
the loss to society might have been somewhat
equivalent to that which it has sustained from
the direction to party of a mind fitted to grasp
the universe.
Before parliament met the ensuing winter,
very important events had taken place in Ame-
rica. General Howe, with the main army, had
gained several victories, which many have as-
serted might have put an end to the war. Ge-
neral Burgoyne, with the northern army, en-
deavouring to effect a junction with the Com-
mander in Chief, got into a defile, and was com-
pelled to surrender.
In the sessions 1777, Burke returned to his
vigorous attention to parliamentary business.
During no preceding meeting had there been
such a quantity of important affairs, and in
none had the power of Burke been more fre-
quently called forward. Not America only,
but France and Ireland, occupied the attention
#
[294]
}
}
$
+
t
of parliament. The discussion of the concerns
of the sister kingdom brought him into a very
delicate predicament, in which, in the discharge
of his duty, he was under the necessity of act-
ing contrary to the opinion of his constituents,
who had, unsolicited, applied to him to be
their representative, as the strenuous champion
of mercantile interest.
An amendment recommending peace was
proposed to the address. Burke dwelt less on
the original injustice and inexpediency of the
war than formerly. He confined himself chief-
ly to its management and effects. He entered
into a very minute and extensive considera-
tion of the force employed, and the expence
incurred; proving from documents that the
year 1777 cost as many men, and more money,
against the Americans, than in any year of our
wars against the combined power of the house
of Bourbon. November 28, Mr. Fox having
moved, that certain papers should be laid be-
fore the house, Lord North at first agreed,
afterwards made exceptions. Burke said, "I
never heard the noble Lord behave with so
much candour, generosity, and spirit, as he had
shewn in agreeing to the request. He had pub.
lished a bond, wherein he granted all; but in
the end was inserted a little defeasance, with a
power of revocation, by which he preserved
himself from the execution of every grant he
had made. His conduct reminded me of a
}
'
1
[295]
certain Governor, who, when he arrived at the
place of his appointment, sat down to a table,
covered with profusion, and abounding in every
dainty and delicacy, that art, nature, and a
provident steward could furnish: but a pigmy
physician watched over the health of the Go.
vernor, excepted to one dish, because it was
hard of digestion; to another, because it was
unhealthy in this progressive mode robbed
the Governor of every dish on his table, and
left him without a dinner."
When the news arrived of the melancholy
catastrophe of Burgoyne's expedition, Burke
joined the warmest of the party in imputing
the failure to Administration, although hitherto
there were no documents to prove Ministers to
be blameable, either in the plan, or in the means
afforded for its execution. What Burke said
on the subject was therefore, however ingeni-
ous, mere invective, on an assumption, not rea-
soning on information. Men, in that case, were
evidently his objects; not measures, as he did
not know what the measures were. It must be
acknowledged by the greatest admirers of
Burke, that his proceedings on this occasion, in
conjunction with those of other members of
Opposition, tended rather to thwart and embar-
rass Government than to support their coun-
try under its late disaster. Whether the war
was right or wrong originally, ceased now to be
the question. As we were involved in it, we
[296]
must either get out of it bonourably, or carry it on
VIGOROUSLY.. The surest way to procure a good
peace was not to succumb under misfortune, but
to redouble exertion. During the Christmas re-
cess subscriptions had been offered by bodies of
men, for raising regiments to make up for the
loss sustained at Saratoga. Burke represented
these efforts as illegal and unconstitutional: il-
legal, because it was levying men and money
without consent of parliament; unconstitu-
tional, because such levies might be indefinite
as to number, and might be employed to de-
prive the country of its liberties. He did not,
however, prove from either statute or decision,
that raising men without consent of párlia.
ment was illegal; although to have raised
money without its consent, either to pay troops
or for any other purpose, would have been con-
trary to the law and constitution. But the
money here for bounties, &c. was not raised by
Government, it was offered by individuals 13
there was no law against either individuals or
bodies making a present of their own money to
the King, or to whomsoever they pleased: SUCH
CONTRIBUTIONS HAD BEEN USUAL IN TIMES OF EMER-
GENCY, and had been approved of by the most
zealous supporters of the constitution.
The employment of the Indians, which had
frequently, in the course of this session, excited
the severe animadversions and pathetic lamen-
tations of Burke, was on February 6, 1778,
[ 297 ]
3
1
made by him the subject of a regular motion.
In his introductory speech he took a wide view
of the state and manners of the Indian savages:
he argued, that in cruelty they exceeded any
barbarians recorded either in ancient or mo-
dern history; and after a particular detail rosé
to a general survey of savage life, sentiments,
and actions. The infliction of individual pain, he
said, more than the political annoyance of ene-
mies, was their object; that therefore their mode
of hostility was not conducive to the purposes of
civilized nations engaged in war, which are
not torment, but reduction and pacification.
The Indian tribes had formerly, he observed,
been, relatively to either the British or French
settled in their neighbourhood, powerful states:
that then it was necessary to be on terms of
amity with them, but that now their numbers
were reduced, and the nècessity to their neigh-
bours of seeking their alliance no longer exist-
ed;
and nothing but necessity could excuse the
employment of so savage warriors. To the
purposes of conquest or coercion they were
generally inefficacious, whatever personal tor-
ment they might inflict. If extermination were
the object, the Indians would do all they could
to exterminate, by massacring man, woman,
and child; but their barbarities would only be
carried to districts on their own frontiers, and
as to the whole colonies would be impotent.
The consequence of employing them was par-
29
1
[298]
tial butchery, without answering any general
end though they might accompany our forces
whilst successful, in hopes of plunder and butch-
ery, they would immediately desert them on the
appearance of danger, as they had done Bur-
goyne. He reprobated the employment of the
Indians also as a measure of economy. He
maintained, that even were their mode of war-
fare unexceptionable in other respects, the ser-
vice did not nearly repay the expence; all
that they did to annoy the enemy might have
been done by regulars. The barbarities of the
Indians must widen the breach between Britain
and the colonies. He reprobated, at the same
time, an attempt that had been made by Go-
vernment to excite an insurrection in the
southern colonies, of negro slaves against their
masters, as equally barbarous and impolitic.
The Virginians were so enraged at this attempt
that they declared, if all the other colonies
should submit, they would not, to the instiga-
tors of treachery and barbarity. He concluded,
that the only remedy for the alienation of af-
fections, and the distrust and terror of our own
Government, which had been brought on by
their inhuman measures, was for parliament to
inquire seriously and strictly into them; and,
by the most marked and public disapprobation,
to convince the world that they had no share
in practices which were not more disgraceful to
a great and civilized nation, than they were
''
[299]
contrary to all true policy, and repugnant to
all the feelings of humanity: for, that it was
not in human nature for any people to place a
confidence in those, to whom they attributed
such unparalleled sufferings and miseries; and
the colonies would never be brought to believe,
that those who were capable of carrying on a
war in so cruel and dishonourable a manner,
could be depended on for a sound, equitable,
and cordial peace; much less, that they could
be safely entrusted with power and dominion.
Ministers endeavoured to prove, that unless
Britain had employed the Indians, America
would have engaged them'; but brought no
proof to maintain this assertion.
A set of motions was now proposed, in which
Mr. Fox took the lead, for an inquiry into the
state of the forces in America, from the com-
mencement of the war, and the losses sustain-
ed. His object was, to shew that the men and
money employed in the contest had been
thrown away, and that the coercion of America
was unattainable. This proposal was opposed by
Administration, on the ground that it would be
imprudent to expose the number of our forces.
Mr. Fox asserted, that twenty thousand men
had perished in the contest. The Minister an-
swered, that not more than twelve hundred bad
been slain. Mr. Fox, always ready in directly
applying the just criterion, when truth was his
object, moved for an account of all the men
i
I
}
[300]
sent to America, all that still remained, and
that the difference would be the loss sustained.
Particular inquiry was deemed by the friends
of Administration inexpedient. Similar mo-
tions were made in the upper house, and reject-
ed. The great Earl of Chatham, notwith-
standing his bodily infirmities, took an active
share in the business of this session, the last
which that illustrious statesman lived to see.
February 17, Lord North proposed a conci-
liatory plan, which afforded much discussion to
Burke and other leading members of Opposi-
tion. He defended his own plans and conduct
respecting America. He asserted, that it had
always been his opinion, that the taxation of
America could never produce a beneficial reve-
nue to Britain. He had wished to keep the dis
cussion of American taxation as much as possi-
ble out of parliament. To lessen the com-
plaints of the Americans he had proposed, in
1770, the taking off all the duties but that on
tea; and that, in proposing the East India
Company should export their teas duty free, he
had n.eant the relief of that Company in such
a way as would accommodate the Americans,
by affording them tea at a cheaper rate, instead
of being a ground of complaint; that the coer-
cion acts were the effects of necessity, not of
his inclination; and that the warwhich afterwards
ensued had arisen from the Americans and their
abettors. The events of the war, he said, had
}
}
3
1
[201]
}
t
?
turned out quite different from what the coun
try had reason to expect; and that to the event,
and not his well grounded expectations, he
must make his plan conform. He proposed
two bills, one for declaring the intentions of
Great Britain concerning the exercise of the
right of taxing the colonies, and, in fact, re-
nouncing the exercise of the right; another
for appointing commissioners, with full powers
to treat with America. The great defect of
Lord North was want of firmness. With an
excellent understanding and upright intentions,
he too readily sacrificed his own opinion to that
of others; there was in his conduct a defect
very pernicious either to the public or private
manager of important business, he was too easi-
ly born down by opposition to what he himself
thought right. This was very evident in his
parliamentary conduct, and it is not unfair to
conclude, that it took place sometimes in the
cabinet. The more determined abettors of
coercive measures were confounded at the pro-
posed abandonment of the plans they had hi-
therto supported. Mr. Fox professed to ap-
prove of the general object of conciliation, and
shewed that the means proposed were nearly
the same as those intended by Burke in his
conciliatory bill some years before. At the
same time he entered into a full discussion
of the ignorance and weakness which was
compelled, after much loss, to propose plans,
+
F
3
[ 302 ]
-
that if adopted, when offered some years
before, would have prevented that loss. Burke
maintained that the terms of conciliation, how-
ever admissible they might have been at the
commencement of the contest, would be now
too late, as any terms would be short of indepen-
dence, which, he affirmed, the Americans had
now permanently established for themselves,
and had, besides, entered into a treaty with
France for securing. To this sound reasoning,
founded on accurate information, he added ar-
gument less conclusive. He contended that
no terms coming from that Administration
would be received by the Americans. It is
probable that the Americans, or ANY MEN OF
SENSE, would consider WHAT the terms were
proposed by the contending nation, not wнO
were the agents. The bills, in their passage
through the house, were rather the subject of
regulation and modification, than of opposition.
Several provisions proposed by Burke were
adopted, and the whole passed without, a di-
vision.
The state of the navy, now become a more
important subject of discussion than during any
former period of the war, as France had mani-
fested hostile intentions, called forth the powers
of Fox and Burke. In considering the navy,
it appears that Burke either had been deficient
in his usual information, or had argued more
as a party man than as an impartial statesman.
}
2
[303]
•
The navy, as it appeared from the number of
well appointed ships employed in various quar-
ters, or ready to be sent to sea, was in a very
respectable state. Burke asserted that no of.
ficer of character would be induced to take the
command of a fleet in such a condition, an as-
sertion in which he was totally wrong, as seve
ral officers of high reputation declared their
willingness to serve, and one of the first pro-
fessional respectability, highly esteemed by
Burke himself, actually, undertook the com-
mand of the principal fleet. To blame Admi-
nistration, when really wrong, was the duty of
a patriotic senator: to censure them in every
case, whether wrong or right, was the part
merely of an Opposition member. Burke, in-
deed, as we have seen in the "Thoughts on
the Cause of the Discontents," avowed himself
a party man, and persisted, during a great
portion of his life, in that declaration. His
avowal that he was so is nothing to the merit
or demerit of the question; parties are right
or wrong according to their object, and the
means they employ. To attack not measures
only, but men, whatever the measures be,
though commonly practised by parties, is in-
consistent with justice and truth. It is on ques-
tions of great and general policy, involving
measures and not men, that we are to look for
the exertions of Burke in their highest intel-
lectual, moral, and political excellence. Fox
1
[ 304 j
made a motion for an inquiry into the unfor.
tunate expedition from Canada, the purport of
which was to prove that the Minister was to
blame for the disaster; that the plan was wrong;
that Burgoyne had acted agreeably to the te-
nor of his instructions; that the force afforded
him was inadequate. Burke warmly supported
these arguments, although he had neither oral
nor written evidence, and proceeded on conjec-
ture, a conjecture in which he was afterwards
proved to be wrong, it being evinced by docu-
ments that the plan was concerted in conjunc
tion with Burgoyne himself, and that all the
force was supplied to him which he deemed nes
cessary. Here, therefore, Burke was an advo
cate against the Minister instead of a judge :-
a partizan instead of a senator.
The Opposition party, however unanimous
in inveighing against Ministers, by no means
agreed respecting the terms on which they
would proffer peace to the Americans. They
were ranged in two classes:-those of whom
the Marquis of Rockingham was the nominal
head, Fox and Burke the real; and those of
whom, Chatham was the leader, assisted by
Temple, Shelburne, and Camden, in the House
of Lords, by Colonel Barre, Dunning, and some
others, in the House of Commons. In the up-
per house the Chatham party prevailed; in the
lower the Rockingham. Lord Chatham was
utterly inimical to the independence of Ame.
*
[ 305.J
है
t
+
rica Burke and Fox considered it as unavoid-
able. In the upper house the principal sup-
porter of that part of Opposition was the Duke of
Richmond. Chatham, and the members who
joined with him, thought the independence of
America the greatest of all possible national
evils: Burke and Fox admitted the indepen-
dence of America to be a great evil, but not tö
be avoided, without incurring a greater, in the
continuance of hostilities, with the addition of
a French war; and that even after all our
enormous expence of blood and treasure, its
acknowledgement must be ultimately made.
There were some other points in which the dif-
ferent members of Opposition disagreed. Burke
and the Rockingham party were inimical to
reform in parliament: Chatham, Shelburne,
Dunning, and Camden, were for a reform. Fox
and the Duke of Richmond, though they con-
curred with Burke on the subject of American
independence, coincided with Chatham as to
reform in parliament. But though these great
men agreed that some change was necessary,
they by no means proposed the same specific
object and plans. The Duke of Richmond's
scheme of universal suffrage and annual par
liaments would have been the greatest deviation
from the constitution of Britain: a scheme.
arising from theoretical views of possible per-
fection in mankind, and not from the contem-
plation of their actual history and conduct.
Rr
}
}
1
3
[306]
Towards the close of this session, application
was made to parliament in favour of Ireland,
to relieve that country from sundry unjust and
injudicious restraints respecting their manu.
factures and trade. These restraints had in-
jured Ireland, it was alledged, without serving
Britain. The Irish had been hindered from
manufacturing their own wool, in order to
favour the woollen manufactory of England.
The consequence of this was, that Irish wool
was smuggled over into France, to the great
detriment of British manufactures, as with such
materials France was able to rival this island.
The bills were intended to relieve Ireland, and
promote her trade and manufactures, without
injuring those of this country. Burke was the
great and powerful supporter of the bills. On
this subject he displayed an amazing extent of
commercial knowledge; he went over the ma-
nufactures and trade of the two kingdoms, with
the contributions of each to support Govern-
ment; not their actual state only, but their
history and principles. His speech alone was
sufficient to convey to any man of understand-
ing, unacquainted with the relative commerce of
England and Ireland, and the absolute and re-
lative commerce of Ireland, a complete know-
ledgeof the subject. Indeed, whatever speech
Burke made on a new question, exhibited a full
view of the matter in discussion, in all its vari-
ous relations. One circumstance placed him
[307]
$
in a very delicate and embarrassing situation.
His constituents of Bristol apprehended that
their interest would be affected by the bills in
favour of Ireland, supported by their represen-
tative. They intimated their opinion to him,
probably expecting that the intimation might
induce him to withdraw his support of the bills.
Burke was convinced that the bills were gene-
rally equitable as to Britain and Ireland; not
impolitical to Britain, and not injurious even
to Bristol. It came to be the question whether
he would follow the voice of his constituents,
or the voice of his conscience. The lesser ob-
ligation he made give way to the greater; and
though he anticipated rejection at a future poll
for Bristol, continued to support the laws which
he judged to be right.
After much discussion, in which the support-
ers had the advantage, it was agreed by both
parties to defer the main business until the next
session of parliament. The opposers gave way
to some enlargements with regard to Irish.
trade, from which its supporters hoped that, by
allowing them another session before its final
determination, they might become well dispos.
ed to promote some more of the propositions.
May 1st, a bill was proposed for excluding
contractors from sitting in parliament. The
reasons for such an exclusion appeared to be
so very obvious, that even the ingenuity of
Burke brought little novelty of argument. So
Sa
1
1
[308]
near were he and his friends to carrying this
question, that they lost it by a majority of two
voices only, 113 to 115.
A bill, moved by Sir George Saville for re-
pealing certain penalties and disabilities to
which Roman Catholics were subject, was vi-
gorously promoted by Burke. He went on the
ground that no penalties for difference of reli-
gion should be in force af'er the cause of their
enaction had ceased: that restraints, which were
judicious and even neces ary at the time of
their imposition, in order to secure the Protest-
ant religion, were now totally useless: what
was then defence, was now persecution; a prin-
ciple entirely inconsistent with rational reli-
gion. The bill passed with unanimous appro-
bation. Burke's support of this liberal bill' also
added to the displeasure his constituents at
Bristol had conceived against him on account
of his speeches in favour of Ireland.
General Burgoyne had now returned from
America on his parole. He soon found that
he was no longer an object of court favour, or
of ministerial countenance. When the prin-
cipal personages withdrew their regard, others"
followed their example. He applied for a court-
martial, which was refused him, on the ground
that, whilst a prisoner, his preceding conduct'
was not cognizable by any court in this country.
There, it appears, Government was right, be-
cause a court-martial's sentence, if unfavourable,
}
[309]
الحالي
might be ineffectual; as the infliction of either
confinement or death on a prisoner belonging
to the enemy, would be injustice to the enemy,
by whose courtesy only the prisoner was in this
country.
Fox, and Burke very warmly embraced the
cause of the General, with an eagerness, indeed,
that outwent cognizance of its merits. Bur-
goyne solicited parliamentary inquiry. This
the American Minister declared could not be
granted until after a military investigation,
then impracticable, and adduced apposite pre-
cedents to justify the refusal. The discussion,
after much altercation, and very bitter invec-
tive against the Minister by Fox and Burke,
was postponed.
were testimonies to the extraordinary merits:
and services of the illustrious Chatham, recently:
deceased.
The last acts of that session:
. This year Sir William Howe asked permis-
sion to`resign his command, alledging that he
had not enjoyed the confidence and support of
Ministry in such a way as to answer the pur-
poses of his commission. The desired leave
was granted; and Sir Henry Clinton was ap-
pointed in his place. The justice of his allega-
tions respecting confidence and support. was!
a subject afterwards of a parliamentary inquiry,
which ended in such a manner as to leave the
case doubtful.
France, as Burke had often predicted, took
R
[310]
A
an open part in the contest with America. If
we consider this junction with its consequences,
it was a very important epoch even to the his-`
tory of Burke; as it generated, or rather fos-
tered those principles which have since pro-
duced effects, that called forth the full exertion
of his extraordinary powers.
The account given of the commencement
of the naval war in the Annual Register of
1779, carries with it internal evidence of having
been written by Burke: it is a very able ac-
count, and it leans to the side of Admiral Kep-
pel. Besides its general ability, it bears some
peculiar marks of his pen: many parts of the
account are rather ratiocinative than nar-
rative, the production of one that wished
to throw blame on the Ministry and to
praise the Admiral, rather than of one who
merely stated facts, indifferent to whom either
approbation or censure should attach. It en-
deavours to prove, that the First Lord of the
Admiralty had been negligent, and had not pro-
vidéd a sufficient force to cope with that of the
French. The reasoning on that subject is nearly
the same as Burke often used in the house; the
answer to it was the actual state of the navy,
the many ships, well manned and equipped,
sent to various parts of the globe.
*
The commissioners sent to America were not
successful; their secretary, the celebrated Dr.
Fergusson, was refused a passport to the con-
[311]
gress. The congress, as before, would receive
no overtures, unless their independence was
previously acknowledged: this Burke had fore-
seen; and it required much less ability than he
possessed, to foresee that terms not essentially
different from those offered by the Howes, when
the British armament was in unimpaired force,
and America without an ally, would not be re-
ceived by her, elated with the capture of Bur-
goyne's army, and strengthened by an alliance
with France,
This campaign was on the whole disastrous.
The elements seemed to have combined with
the enemy in annoying the British fleet on the
American seas. On the European, the issue of
a battle was not altogether such as the Ministry
and indeed the nation expected, and afterwards
thought it might have been. The considera-
tion of that action, and its consequences, occu-
pied much of the attention of Burke during the
following session. The speech from the throne,
though it did not express, implied a censure on
the operations of the campaign; it asserted,
that our arms had not been attended with the
success which the vigour of our exertions pro-
mised. Burke imputed the failure to the infe-
riority of our fleets and the tardiness of, our
preparations. The conciliatory propositions,
he contended, met with the issue which he ex-
pected, and all-men might expect. The vale-
dictory manifesto of the commissioners was
1
1
辈
​[312
strongly censured by Burke. This manifesto,
the political reader will remember, declared,
that if the Americans did not accede to terms
of conciliation, and adhered to the alliance of
France, the British would change the nature of
the war, and do every thing possible to render
America an useless accession. Burke inveighed
against this declaration as contrary to the prin- '
ciples of humanity and civilized society; that
if a system of desolation was begun by us, it
would be retorted by the Americans, and so á
horrible addition be made to the usual calami-
ties of war. Besides, he said, that threats of
devastation and destruction from those, who
manifestly were not now superior in force, were
idle and vain. It shewed a wish for barbarity,
without the means of being effectually barba-
rous. It was requested that the manifesto
should be disavowed by Administration; and a
motion was made for an address to his Majesty,
expressing the disapprobation of the House of
Commons. This motion was negatived.
Sir
The action of the 27th of July now became
the subject of parliamentary discussion.
Hugh Palliser had published a letter in a morn-
ing paper; containing a statement of the par-
ticulars of the engagement, and replete with
indirect insinuation and direct censure against
the conduct of Admiral Keppel. Keppel de-
clared, that unless this letter was disavowed, he
would accept of no command under which
[313]
Palliser was to be employed: Palliser, in the
house, charged Keppel, in whose praises he be-
fore had been lavish, with misconduct and in-,
'capacity, and applied to the Admiralty for a
court-martial on the, Commander in Chief. This
was readily granted, and Keppel was honour-
ably acquitted. *
Great dissensions in the navy were the con-
sequence of the dispute between the two Admi-
rals. One party blamed Palliser for his pro-
ceedings against the Commander in Chief, an-
other censured Keppel for losing an advanta-
geous opportunity, by an unnecessary appre-
hension of the dangers of a lee shore.
One of the judges, Captain Duncan, when
afterwards elevated to a situation in which his
wisdom, skill, and vigour could fully operate,
has demonstrated, to the complete satisfaction
of both friends and enemies, that an Admiral
may gain a signal victory, though very near a
LEE SHORE.
Fox and Burke endeavoured to prove, that
the fleet had been so inferior to what was re-
quisite, as to manifest great neglect of duty in
the First Lord of the Admiralty. A motion was
made, to censure Lord Sandwich and his col-
leagues in office. Here Burke, as on many
* This trial, of great consequence in itself, derived an
adventitious importance, from its having afforded the first
opportunity of a display of his powers to the greatest judi-
cial speaker of modern times.
ន ន
[ 314 ]
questions respecting the conduct of Ministry,
was a mere party man, not a philosophical po-
litician. No facts were adduced to justify the
censure. Had Burke been, on every question,
the impartial philosopher, he certainly would
have been a still greater character. Impar-
tiality, however, was not to be expected from
the ablest of men, with so very violent pas.
sions, in a situation tending so much to inflame
passion. Unconnected with party politics, in
the calm investigation of the closet, his extra-
ordinary genius must have been a more con-
stant agent of wisdom than when so often bi-
assed by party contentions.
A question now occurred, not of ministerial
conduct, but of national policy, on a subject
that had been partly discussed the preceding
session, respecting the trade of Ireland. Burke
took a very active part in endeavouring to pro-
cure to his native country that relief which she
wanted, and which it was just and politic she
should receive. The Minister for some time
did not interfere in the business, but finding a
great clamour excited against the propositions
by the British traders and manufacturers whose
particular interests they would affect, he at last
opposed them, and they were negatived by a
small majority.
About this period Burke was defendant in a
Chancery suit, in which Lord Verney was
plaintiff. It was alledged by Lord Verney, that
*
•
•
魷
​1
[315]
Burke, his brother, and cousin, had been en-
gaged with him in a stock-jobbing speculation,
by which very great loss had been incurred;
that Lord Verney was the ostensible man, and
had been obliged to make out the engagements;
that Edmund Burke being the only one of the
rest, who had any property, Verney had ap-
plied to him to defray his share of the debt.
On refusal, he filed a bill against him in
Chancery, claiming Burke as his partner.
Burke making affidavit that he was not, the
matter was, of course, concluded in Burke's
favour. A great clamour arose against Burke
for clearing himself in this manner: but a po-
sitive oath of a man of character is certainly
better evidence than vague rumour.
The Roman Catholic bill which had passed
during the preceding session, had excited great
alarms in Scotland, as it was supposed to be
the intention of parliament to extend the relief
to Scotch Catholics. Not the common people
alone, but many of the gentry and clergy, and
of the latter not the ignorant enthusiastic only,
but some of the liberal and learned, considered
the proposed relief as an introduction to
popery. The press teemed with publications.
describing the errors of popery, and imputing
to that mode of faith, even at that time, all the
hurtful principles which sprang from it in the
days of ignorance. Associations were formed
to oppose popery, by mechanics and manufac-
turers in Glasgow, Edinburgh, and other
$
[316]
towns; the weavers of Renfrew and Paisley
displaying a peculiar zeal against the doctrines
of Antichrist. The puritanical papaphobia was
again becoming epidemical. The populace was
inflamed, and rose to tumult and riot in various
places. At Edinburgh, a party of those en-
lightened theologians, the Leith sailors, took
the lead in stirring up vengeance against the
enemies of that religion, for the knowledge and
practice of which they were themselves so emi-
nently distinguished. Assisted by many other
divines, they set fire to chapels, and houses of
the papists. The Roman Catholic sufferers ap-
plied to Burke to present a petition to parlia-
ment, praying for a compensation on account
of the losses they had sustained. Some of the
Scotch had been absurd enough to approve of
the fanatical outrages, on the ground that it was
proper for the people spiritedly to manifest
their hatred of popery. That Burke ridiculed
with great humour, considering so despicable
reasoning as unworthy of a serious refutation.
He also attacked very strongly the supineness
of Government, to which he imputed the mad
violence of the populace.
nap.
It happened, at that time, that the Prime
Minister was indulging himself in a profound
"I hope," said Burke, "Government is
not dead, but asleep :" pointing to Lord North,
"Brother Lazarus is not dead, only sleep-
eth." The laugh upon this occasion was not
more loud on one side of the house, than it ap-
[317]
}
+
peared to be relished on the other. Even the
noble Lord, alluded to on the occasion, seemed
to enjoy the allusion as heartily as the rest of
the house, as soon as he was sufficiently awake
to conceive the cause of the universal joke.
1
Burke took a very active part in a motion
made by Fox for the removal of Lord Sandwich,
Great dissensions had taken place in the navy,
in consequence of the resignation of Lord Howe
and Admiral Keppel, both of which were im-
puted to the want of capacity, negligence, or、
improper partiality of the First Lord of the
Admiralty. He, it was said, had neglected to
reinforce the fleet of Lord Howe, when the fate
of our navy and army in America depended on
the command of the seas. He had furnished
Keppel with an inadequate force for the object
of his cruize. After the Admiral had distin-
guished himself by his conduct in the engage-
ment with the French, he had patronized and
supported the Vice-Admiral in his attack; an
attack that was declared by a court-martial false,
slanderous, and malicious. Fox assuming these
grounds of partiality, negligence, and miscon-
duct, drew a conclusion very fair, if he had esta
blished his premises, that he ought to be removed
from his office. Burke pointed, with all the powers
of ridicule and ingenuity, what he contended to
be error, incapacity, negligence, and treachery
in Lord Sandwich, but did not adduce proofs.
When men of so astonishing force of reasoning
1
[318]
1
A
as Burke and Fox proceed upon assumptions,
a reader fairly concludes that it is from their
wishes, not their conviction that they speak.
During no period had Britain so many difficul-
ties to encounter as under the administration of
Lord Sandwich, yet did her fleets maintain the
dominion of the sea against a combination of
force unprecedented in history. He could not
be a bad First Lord of the Admiralty, who had
fleets ready to withstand the combined power
of America, Holland, Spain, and France, and
to vanquish the two most powerful of these na-
tions. It was not proved that the little impres-
sion made on the enemy in the commencement
of the war was owing to a deficiency in force.
The reasoning, therefore, of Burke and Fox was
inconclusive. It afterwards appeared, that the
opinion they professed to entertain respecting
Lord Sandwich's ability and skill was wrong.
In fact, it was manifest that he was able, skil-
ful, and attentive enough in the management
of our navy, to enable us to make extraordi-
nary efforts. The violent speeches of Burke
tended to inflame instead of allaying the dis-
sensions in the navy: a very dangerous ten-
dency at any time, especially when we were
engaged in so formidable a war.
1
The conduct of the Howes next came to be
a subject of parliamentary inquiry. It as
publicly alledged by the friends of Ministry,
that much more might have been done towards
[319]
}
the subjugation of America. It was even confi-
dently asserted that General Howe might have
repeatedly ended the war, had he followed up
his successes at Long Island, White Plains, the'
Brandy Wine, and German Town. He had
complained of want of confidence and support
from Administration. Lord George Germain
proved that he had furnished him with thirty
thousand men, whereas General Howe said nine-
teen thousand were sufficient. As to confidence,
so great was the trust reposed in him, that the
military plans and measures were left to him-
self.* In 1777 the British troops amounted to
forty-one thousand, and the American to twenty-
three. It must, therefore, either have been
something in the war itself which rendered suc-
cess unattainable, in his mode of carrying it
on, and not the alledged want of support and
confidence from the Ministry that obstructed
his exertions. It was generally reported, and
never contradicted, that dissipation of every
species prevailed in the army while under his
command. That certainly was not the most
effectual mode of subjugating America. In this
case, the most partial admirers of Burke must
acknowledge that he acted as a party man, as
determined to throw blanie on Ministers, whe..
ther they were or were not blameable. He and
* See Stedman's History, vol. i. near the end,
1
M
[ 320 ]
Mr Fox pressed urgently for an inquiry into
the conduct of the Howes. The Ministers de-
clared that they had no share in any attack
upon their character, (" Whatever,” said Lord
North, "our opinion may be in certain matters")
and thought an inquiry unnecessary, but did
not oppose its institution.
It evidently ap
peared, that although the vindication of the
General was the ostensible object of the in-
quirers, the condemnation of Ministry was the
real. Many of the questions that were put did
not respect the Commander in Chief. Those
interrogatories that were relative to him, rather
regarded his general chara&er and conduct
than special proceedings. The answers of the
evidences called by Howe were more in the
style of general eulogium than of special excul-
pation. Ministry seeing that Burke. and the
other Opposition members were partial in their
interrogatories, called in witnesses on the other
side. General Robertson and Mr. Galway gave
a circumstantial, particular narrative, that by
no means coincided with the opinion which
Burke and Fox entertained or professed to en-
tertain. The Opposition members, after hear-
ing the evidence of General Robertson and Mr.
Galway, moved to dissolve the committee,
which was accordingly done; and so ended the
inquiry.
&
We cannot, consistently with impartiality,
credit patriotism, or indeed justice, with the
[ 321.]
#
carrying on an inquiry whilst it appeared to
tend to one object, and when it appeared to
tend to another, propose its abandonment. On
the other hand, it may be observed, that if Mi-
nisters could establish proof of misconduct or
, neglect in General Howe, it was their duty to
bring forward that proof. As no evidence has
been adduced to substantiate the charges against
the General, no person is warranted in im-
puting to him negligence or any other defect
in his military conduct. The inquiry included
General Burgoyne. Nothing came out, tending
to impeach his military character. He had
been unfortunate; but there was no evidence
that he had failed either in prosecuting advan-
tage, or in exerting himself to ward off cala-
mity."
1
A hostile manifesto from Spain, declaratory
of its intention to join in the war, verified a
prediction of Burke respecting the many bad
consequences from the rupture with America.
At the time that he resumed his just disappro-
bation of measures so hurtful to the country,
he attacked men with less reasonable grounds.
He charged Lord Sandwich with being the im-
mediate cause of the Spanish war, by not hav.
ing, in the preceding campaign, furnished the
Admiral with a sufficient force to conquer the
French navy. Here, he again censured the
Minister without substantiating the grounds.
?
Tt
1
[ 322 ]
A bill was proposed in the house to take
away, for a limited time, certain exemptions
from being pressed into the navy, a bill that
necessity alone certainly could justify; but that,
when we were on the eve of being engaged in
an additional war to those by which we were
already so much annoyed, it appeared neces-
sity did justify. The preservation of the con-
stitution was Burke's principal object. Not
admitting the necessity, he strenuously opposed
such an infringement on personal liberty. This
session continued to an unusual length, but
ended in July.
The
During this campaign affairs wore a very
unfavourable aspect. The combined fleets of
France and Spain advanced to the channel; and
the British fleet. found it prudent to retire, in
order to take advantage of the narrows.
campaign in America was attended with vari-
ous success; but Britain was far from advancing
in the object of the contest. The national ex-
penditure was increasing in a most enormous
degree. Still, however, she externally made a
gallant stand, distressed and almost destroyed
the commerce of the enemy. Her naval exer-
tions, in various parts of the globe, were such
as shewed that the First Lord of the Admiralty
had not been deficient in official service, and
that the attacks of Fox and Burke proceeded
from the spirit of party, and did not arise from
that enlarged patriotism which both these per-
1
[323]
1
sonages frequently displayed. The misfortunes
of Britain by no means excited that dissatis-
faction which Opposition seemed to expect.
Now that the nation was engaged in a war with
her ancient enemies, many even of those who
had disapproved of coercive measures respect-
ing America, no longer regarded the Provin-
cials as oppressed fellow subjects but as the
allies of foes. In Britain, therefore, there were
fewer out of parliament in opposition to Go-
vernment than during the first years of the con-
test. The commerce and manufactures of this
country had not suffered so much as had been
anticipated: besides, the war found employ-
ment for a great multitude of people. The
fortunes which certain persons obtained by it,
together with the advantages that were held
out to moneyed men, in subscribing to the pub-
lic loans, occasioned a facility in raising sup-
plies, which was extremely favourable to the
measures of Government, and lessened the ge.
neral discernment of the calamities and dan-
gers of the nation. But though either private
interest, national animosity, or genuine pa-
triotism made the greater number of the British
satisfied with the measures of Government, very
great discontents prevailed in Ireland, because
the grievances under which they laboured, and
to redress which Burke had endeavoured with
such ability, had continued unremoved. At
last it appeared that the Minister had determined
+
}
A
[324]
A
to attend to the complaints of the sister king-
dom. In his Majesty's speech Ireland was re-
commended to the particular attention of par-
liament, to consider what benefits and advan-
tages might be extended to that kingdom.
Burke's attention' was this session directed
principally to the affairs of Ireland, and to pub-
lic œconomy. He censured Ministers for not
having taken effectual steps to give satisfaction
to the Irish nation, in conformity to the address
of parliament. The discontents in that kingdom
heimputed to Ministry, and considered as more
dangerous that they really were and eventually
proved. Whatever subject occupied the atten-
tion of Burke, made a very deep impression on
his mind. In viewing it in the various lights
which his versatile genius could apply to it, it
often so worked upon his imagination as to
transport him far beyond the bounds which
much less than his extraordinary judgment
might see to be prudent. In enumerating
the discontents and disorders of Ireland,
which he imputed to the misconduct of Mi-
nistry, his vivid and fertile imagination mag-
nified them so much, that one who estimated
the condition of that country by his speech,
might have supposed it to be in a state of in-
surrection. He contended that Ministry were
restrained by fear only from pursuing the same
. measures respecting Ireland as they had done
concerning America.
1
ས་
}
[325]
}
{
}
1
The greatest admirers of Burke must ac-
knowledge this was not the way to cement
matters. "Why (says he) have not the Mi-
nistry adopted the same measures respecting
Ireland as they did respecting America? Why
have they not treated Dublin as they treated
Boston? Why have they not shut up the port
of Dublin, burnt Cork, reduced Waterford
to ashes? Why have they not prohibited all po-
pular meetings in that kingdom, and destroyed
all popular elections? Why have they not al-
tered the usual mode of striking juries as was
done by the Massachuset's Bay charter bill ?
Why were not the Dublin rioters brought over
to this country to be tried by an English jury?
Why were not the principal leaders of the
Irish armed associations proscribed, and the
whole kingdom declared to be in rebellion ?
The answer was plain and direct; the Minis-
try dare not." This passage (extracted from
the Annual Register of 1780, p. 26) is a strik-
ing instance of what I have had repeatedly oc-
casion, from the impartiality due to narration,
to mention, that when Burke attacked Minis-
ters, he often acted the part of a violent parti-
zan. Here, his zeal to criminate them led him
to the most inflammatory eloquence. If the
Irish were, as in another part of the speech
he asserts, disposed to insurrection, the persua-
sion, which it was the object of his speech to
give them, that the British Government was
5
1
[326]
1
inclined to employ coercive measures, but re-
strained by fear, was not a likely mode to
prevent insurrection. This much less wisdom
than Burke's could have seen, if his heat at
the time had not prevented reflection. In
speaking of the general incapacity of Minis-
ters, and its effects in reducing the power and
glory of Britain, and imputing the employ-
ment of these Ministers to the influence of se-
cret advisers, he compared them to the mis-
tresses of Lewis XIV. The counsellors of
Lewis finding they could not totally conquer
the King's passion for the fair sex, selected the
old and plainest women they could find, in or-
der to correct, if not totally subdue, the lusts of
the flesh. This, he said, as a political simile,
was justly applicable to the King. His coun-
sellors had managed so dexterously as to keep
a set of Ministers about him, extremely well
calculated to subdue his ambition, and, by a loss
of a considerable part of his territories, to ba-
nish from his breast the lust of power and do-
minion.
Lord North proposed a system of regula-
tions tending to give to Ireland the benefit
of a free trade. Burke, though often trans-
ported by the warmth of his temper into too
great violence of invective against the Minis-
ter, yet, from the liberality of his enlightened
mind, was not wanting in doing him justice,
when his measures appeared to him beneficial
$
[327]
+
and his conduct meritorious. He approved of
the regulations respecting Ireland, if they
should be agreeable to that country. They were
received with great gratitude and applause by
the Irish, who censured the English Opposition
for giving only a silent acquiescence to the re-
solutions, instead of supporting them by the
force of their eloquence.
Burke wrote a letter to his friends in Ire-
land, in vindication of his own conduct. He
represented, that "till the Minister had been
driven to some serious attention to the affairs
of Ireland, by the measures adopted in that
kingdom, his conduct had been extremely di-
latory, indecisive, and equivocal: and that the
minority were justly incensed at him for hav-
ing so grossly sacrificed the honour of the na-
tion and the dignity of parliament, as to re-
fuse to afford any substantial relief to the Irish
nation, till their own spirited exertions had
made every thing that could be done by Great
Britain to gratify them appear not an act of
choice, but of necessity."
Al-
Among various subjects of attack against the
conduct of Administration, the waste of public
money was one of the most important.
though Lord North's individual integrity has
never been impeached; although it never has
been alledged that there was any defalcation of
national treasure for his own use; it is certain
that many of those employed under him made
}
[328]
so immense fortunes as implied MORE OF Publić
MONEY GIVEN THAN OF PUBLIC SERVICE DONE.
Besides the actual servants of Government,
those who had contracts with it had much
greater profits than would have arisen from a
fair competition. Certain contractors were
allowed terms much more advantageous than
those on which others would have supplied the
requisite articles equally well. Burke reprobated
this profusion, both as an unnecessary, and con-
sequently unjust expenditure of the people's
money, and as a source of corrupt influence to
the crown.
The waste and the influence he
considered as mutually acting and re-acting on
each other: that as the waste increased influ-
ence, so the influence increased the facility of
waste. He had, very strenuously, in a preced-
ing session, supported a motion for excluding
contractors from a seat in the house. He now
took a general review not only of the expendi-
ture of the public revenue by the Ministers of
the time, but of the general establishments,
considering the various places in detail, to as-
certain their public utility. After enlarging
on the topics, and entering into a history and
discussion of finance in other countries, he gave
notice, that after the Christmas holidays he
should propose a plan for the reduction of the
public expenditure.
The very enormous expence of our esta-
blishments from the war, and from waste
[329]
continuing to increase, the imposts began to be
severely felt in the nation. The subject now
awakened the attention both of the inhabitants
of the metropolis and of the different coun-
ties in the kingdom. Yorkshire and London,
the chief county and the chief city of the
kingdom, the principal districts of landed and
of monied property, took the lead in expressing
alarm from an expenditure by which they were
so much affected. The city of London and
the county of York each petitioned the House
of Commons to adopt some plan for the re-
duction of expence. Other cities, counties,
and towns followed this example, and establish-
ed a committee of correspondence for promot-
ing the common cause. The eyes of all were
anxiously turned towards Burke, all expected
his plan of reforní.
'
On the 11th of February, 1780, he commu.
nicated to the House of Commons his "plan of
reform in the constitution of several parts of
the public œconomy." This speech is replete
with financial principle, accurate information
as to the detail of establishments, their object
and use, and embellished with all the beauties
of eloquence. It is the speech of wisdom, sẹ-
lecting from the stores of knowledge what
might be practically beneficial. The orations
of Burke, especially those on great and com-
prehensive questions, abound in general obser-
vations, drawn from the most profound philo-
U u
}
>
[ 330 j
sophy; which have the double merit of being
in their place specially applicable to the object
in consideration, and to a variety of other si
tuations and circumstances in the conduct of
life. From his speeches and writings might bè
formed a collection of moral and political max-
ims of the strictest truth and highest import-
ance, but which are not introduced in an ab-
stract form; they are made to bear immediately
upon the case. On the principles of national
revenue he displays an enlarged view of the
subject, which shews a mind capable of writing
a treatise on the nature and causes of the wealth
of nations. Nor could Smith himself, whose
penetrating, investigating, and generalizing
mind the details and principles of finance so
much and so long occupied, have displayed
more complete knowledge and philosophical
views than this speech of Burke, who attended
to revenue, among a multiplicity of momen-
tous objects. At the same time so minute is his
acquaintance with offices, that he appears fit to
have composed a court calendar without copy-
ing from the red-book. His introduction is,
perhaps, one of the most masterly that ever
served to usher in a piece of eloquence. In
that part in which he speaks of the difficulties
he must encounter in conducting à plan of re-
form, a reform bearing on private intérest and
lessening private emolument, he is peculiarly
excellent. What he says applied precisely to
[331]
1
that individual case, and would apply in gene-
ral to any situation in which it was proposed to
sacrifice individual gain from donative to gene-
ral good in the retrenchment of unnecessary
expence. "I feel (says he) that I engage in a
business in itself most ungracious. I know
that all parsimony is of a quality approaching tọ
unkindness; and that (on some person or other
every reform.must operate as a sort of punish-
ment: indeed the whole class of the severe and
restrictive virtues are at a market almost too
high for humanity; what is worse, there are
very few of those virtues which are not capable
of being imitated, and even outdone in many
of their most striking effects, by the worst of
vices. Malignity and envy will carve much
more deeply, and finish much more sharply,
in the work of retrenchment, than frugality
and providence. I do not, therefore, wonder
that gentlemen have kept away from such a
task, as well from good naturę, as from pru-
dénce. Private feeling might, indeed, be over-
borne by legislative reason; and a man of long:
sighted and strong nerved humanity might
bring himself, not so much to consider from
whom he takes a superfluous enjoyment, as for
whom, in the end, he may preserve the abso-
lute necessaries of life." He lays down certain
rules of political economy, which he applies to
the various cases he details, and to the esta-
1
}
[332]
1
blishments which he would retrench; consi→
dering various establishments as wasteful, be-
cause employed in a manner neither tending to
reproduction or to security of what is by other
means produced; and hurtful, as the means of
corruption. His principle is, that whatever
establishments are either more expensive than
gainful, or afford the means of corruption more
than advantage to judicial and political admi-
nistration, ought to be abolished. This general
principle he applies to certain jurisdictions, pub-
lic estates, offices, and modes of disbursement.
On jurisdictions, he proves by accurate docu-
ments and conclusive arguments, that the in-
ferior jurisdictions of the Sovereign, attended
with considerable expence, do not answer any
purpose which might not be better effected with-
out the expence of those establishments, in the
supreme character of Sovereign. On this part,
together with the most authentic detail, the basis
of the ablest and serious reasoning, there is
mixed a great degree of pleasantry and humour.
Speaking of the characters with which the So-
vereign is invested in different parts of South-
Britain, he says, "the monarchy is divided in-
to five several distinct principalities, besides the
supreme: as in the itinerant exhibitions of the
stage, they are obliged to throw a variety of
parts on their chief performer; so our Sove-
reign condescends himself to act, not only the
[333]
principal but the subordinate parts.-Cross a
brook, and you lose the King of England; but
you have some comfort in coming again under
his Majesty, though shorn of his beams, and no
more than Prince of Wales. Go to the north,
and you find him dwindled to a Duke of Lan-
caster. Turn to the west of that north, and he
pops upon you in the humble character of Earl
of Chester. Travel a few miles on, the Earl of
Chester disappears, and the King surprises you
again as Count Palatine of Lancaster. You find
him once more in his incognito, and he is Duke
of Cornwall. So that quite fatigued and satiat-
ed with this dull variety, you are infinitely re-
freshed when you return to the sphere of his
proper splendour, and behold your amiable So-
vereign in his true, simple, undisguised, native
character of Majesty." He proposes, that as
these jurisdictions are expensive, without pro-
ducing public advantage, and are the means of
corrupt influence, they should be abolished. He
applies the same principles to the crown de-
mesnes and the annexed offices; but dwells
most particularly on the household. Many
have ridiculed the minuteness of his detail here;
but if he was right as to fact, the particularity
of his attention was certainly very'meritorious:
whatever saving could take place, without les.
sening the King's power of every constitutional
exertion, was an advantage to the nation,
Į
[334]
The following passages also shew the force
and versatility of Burke's humour:-" Lord
Talbot's scheme of economy was dashed to
pieces; his department became more expensive
than ever ;-the civil list debt accumulated.-
Why? It was truly from a cause, which, though
perfectly adequate to the effect, one would not
have instantly guessed;-it was because the
turnspit in the King's kitchen was a member of par-
liament. The King's domestic servants were
all undone; his tradesmen remained unpaid,
and became bankrupt;-because the turnspit of the
King's kitchen was a member of parliament. His
Majesty's slumbers were interrupted, his pillow
was stuffed with thorns, and his peace of mind
entirely broken,-because the King's turnspit
was a member of parliament. The judges were
unpaid; the justice of the kingdom bent and
gave way; the foreign Ministers remained in
active and unprovided; the system of Europe
was dissolved; the chain of our alliances was
broken; all the wheels of government at home
and abroad were stopped ;-because the King's
turnspit was a member of parliament."" The
household troops form an army, who will be
ready to mutiny for want of pay, and whose
mutiny will be really dreadful to a Commander
in Chief. A rebellion of the thirteen Lords of
the bedcamber would be far more terrible to a
Minister, and would probably affect his power
1
[335]
1
more to the quick, than a revolt of thirteen
colonies. What an uproar such an event would
create at court! What petitions, and committees,
and associations would it not produce! Bless
me! what a clattering of white sticks and yellow
sticks would be about his head!-what a storm of
gold keys would fly about the ears of the Mini-
ster!-what a shower of Georges, and Thistles,
and medals, and collars of S. S. would assail him
at his first entrance into the antichamber, after
an insolvent Christmas quarter! A tumult
which could not be appeased by all the har.
mony of the new year's ode."
The individuals affected by his reform (after
it had fallen much short of his intention) have
inveighed bitterly against Burke for diminish-
ing their profits. That, no doubt, was a serious
concern to themselves and those interested in their
prosperity; but it could be no reason to prevent
a patriot from proposing reduction of useless
expence, that some had gained by it. If a man
find it prudent to dismiss supernumerary foot-
men, or housemaids, he ought not to be deterr-
ed by the consideration, that it would be more
agreeable to these persons to live upon him,
though doing nothing in return. He went
through offices of a higher description than
those of the mere menials of the household, and
proposed the reduction of various places in the
civil list, in which either there was pay without
[
336]
1
service, or where the pay greatly exceeded the
service. An impartial examiner must adnit
the justness and comprehensiveness of Burke's
general principles of political economy, the
accuracy of his details of office, and the appli-
cability of his principles to those details: he
must acknowledge that considerable saving
would have accrued to the nation from the ge-
neral adoption of his plan, as indeed there did
even from the partial. Their utility would
have been much greater if they could be ap-
plied to infinitely more momentous departments
of public expence than any within the civil
list, to the ordnance, the navy, and the army.
The necessary expenditure in these is so very
considerable, that there is a much greater pro-
bability of waste, and opportunity of mismanage-
ment or even intentional misapplication, than in
the comparatively confined expenditure of the
civil list. From the general political principles
of Burke, together with his particular financial
principles, it is probable that if he had fully suc-
ceeded in his first plan of reform, he would have
afterwards extended their operation to the larger
sources of expence. Ministers joined with Op-
position in bestowing the highest applause, not
on his eloquence only, but on his financial prin-
ciples. When, however, the principles came
to be applied to the particular plans of reform,
they did not accede. Burke grounded four
[ 337 ]
bills on his plan, which, after much discussion,
were at length rejected.
A new law was proposed this session for ex-
cluding contractors from parliament, and very
ably supported' by Burke, Fox, and Dunning,
and passed the House of Commons. During
the discussion of Burke's bill, Mr. Dunning,
after enlarging very much on the influence
of the crown, and endeavouring to shew that
it was attended with most pernicious effects,
moved the famous resolution, that "the influence
of the crown has increased, is increasing, and ought
to be diminished." This resolution was supported
by Fox, Burke, and the whole force of Oppo-
sition, with such effect, that, to the surprise
and alarm of Administration, and probably to
the astonishment of the mover himself, it was
carried by a majority of 233 to 215, and on it
several other resolutions were grounded. Al
though this majority was of no long duration
on the side of Opposition, it afforded them well
grounded hopes that their warfare against the
Minister would be at last successful. The
country gentlemen had been so moved by the
state of public affairs as described by Dunning,
Fox, and Burke, that they were staggered in
their opinion of Lord North; and though, after
a short dereliction, they again returned to him,
it was probable that the increasing burdens from
the war, joined to the forcible eloquence of the
*
X X
*
[338]
1
*
Opposition leaders, would induce them entirely
to abandon Administration; as afterwards took
place. On the general ground of diminishing
the influence of the crown, a bill was proposed
under the auspices of Burke, for preventing
revenue officers from voting at elections, but
rejected by a small majority. The bill for ex-
cluding contractors was lost in the House, of
Lords. Whether Lord North had suffered it
to pass without much opposition in the House
of Commons, from either a foreknowledge or
predestination of its fate in the upper house, or
that he did not actually disapprove of it, I
cannot determine. The exclusion of the con-
tractors would probably, in some degree, have
promoted Burke's twofold object, restriction of
profusion and diminution of corruption.
A motion was made by General Conway for
reconciliation with America. It proposed to
remove all their just complaints, but not to ac-
knowledge their independence. It was opposed
by the Ministers, who thought it humiliatory as
to this nation, and ineffectual as to the object.
It was very faintly supported by Burke and the
Rockingham part of Opposition, who thought
it totally inadequate to the objects.
Although the eminent abilities of Burke had
not succeeded in procuring in parliament the
desired reduction of expence, associations con-
tinued to be formed by men of talents and
property, both in London and other parts of
[ 339 ]
$
England, the object of which was reform; an
object which they expected ultimately to ob.
tain. Meanwhile, an association for a very dif
ferent purpose, and composed of very different
persons, gave rise to proceedings of the most
disorderly and licentious kind. A Protestant
association had been formed in England. consist-
ing of persons of nearly the same rank and charac-
ter which composed that of Scotland; persons,
who, though many of them were well meaning
friends to the Protestant religion, were gene-
rally ignorant,' and estimated Popery by its for-
mer, not its modern statę; and who were for
applying towards Papists that intolerant spirit
which constituted one of the worst qualities of
Popery during the ages of ignorant credulity
and clerical usurpation. No man of liberal
sentiments, of any party, had any connection
with them they consisted chiefly of persons
equally low in rank with those who, in latter
times, make up the bulk of the London Corre-
sponding Society. Their object was to pro-
cure the repeal of the law of 1778. They fram-
ed a petition to parliament, to which one hund-
red and twenty thousand of those enlightened
theologians put either their names or their
marks. It was resolved, that as many of the peti-
tioners as possible should attend at the present-
ment of their petition. An advertisement for
that purpose, signed by Lord George Gordon,
was issued. Fifty thousand, at least, assembled
[840]
1
with this view, June the 2d, in St. George's
Fields Thence they proceeded to the House
of Commons, where their petition was present-
ed by their president. The theologians insulted
several members of both parties in parliament.
A mob, whether of Protestant associators, other
rabble, or both, displayed their zeal in fire.
brands, and burnt several popish buildings.
The outrages continued, and rapidly extended
to the persons and houses of others as well as
Roman Catholics. The prisons were destroyed,
and their inhabitants let loose, to co-operate
with the mob. London, for a week, was the
scene of uproar, plunder, and conflagration;
the military force only saved the city from de-
struction. Such are the effects of demagogues,
under whatever pretence, inflaming the po-
pulace by false representations of grievances.
Burke's house and his person also were threat-
ened, as being a strong supporter of Sir George
Saville's bill, and suspected to be a Roman Ca-
tholic. He was represented in some of the
papers as a Jesuit in disguise; and in the print-
shops he was exhibited in the dress of a Friar,
trimming and fomenting the fires of Smithfield.
All this vulgar calumny he treated with con-
tempt. The nickname, Neddy St. Omers, he
was constantly called, and the public actually
believed that he had been brought up at that
seminary, a calumny which he never thought
worth confuting. He always treated common
}
[341]
abuse with indifference, and, perhaps, no man
experienced more of it. It is worthy of obser-
vation, that through his political life he was
more vehemently blamed and abused by his
censurers, and more rapturously praised and
even adored by his admirers, than perhaps any
man that ever lived.
The effects which the riots produced on the
public mind deserve notice. Previous to this
period an English mob was generally consi-
dered as a test of the public opinion, the over-
flowing of popular energy; and military inter-
ference was deemed highly dangerous, if not
altogether unconstitutional. This seemed to
be the opinion of the Duke of Newcastle when
he kept a mob in pay, ready trained and dis-
ciplined, to support the then recent accession
of the house of Hanover, and to suppress Tory
mobs; a mode of conduct which had a more
successful, or at least a more popular effect than
having recourse to military force. The New-
castle mob, as it was called, was long remem-
bered with respect.
The conduct of the mob of 1780 destroyed
for ever the credit and consequence of such a
body. This has been, upon the whole, deemed
very fortunate for the internal peace of the
country, as it has taught Government to op-
pose the smallest beginnings of riot or popular
commotion; a lesson which seems peculiarly
important at the present time.
}
[342]
Burke seemed to have adopted the sentiments
of Horace, at least, with respect to a mob-
Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.
He even attended popular elections with appa-
rent reluctance.
As soon as the peace of the metropolis was
restored, and the parliament assembled as usual,
Burke was indefatigable in his inquiries respect.
ing the cause and progress of the riots, and in
procuring a full recompence for all who had
given in an estimate of their loss. There was no
deduction made from any account of this kind,
so much did the public resent the outrages
which had been committed.
Notwithstanding the disgrace which was in-
curred by the Protestant association, and their
president sent to the Tower, their committee
still attended the lobby of the House of Com-.
mons, disclaiming all connection with the
rioters, and praying, or rather demanding at-
tention to their petition. Burke could not
behold those gentlemen without visible marks
of indignation, and was heard to say within
their hearing, I am astonished those men can have
the audacity still to nose parliament! The general
panic, however, had not yet completely sub-
sided; the parliament wishing to satisfy the
association, brought in a bill by way of com-
promise, to prevent Roman Catholics from
teaching Protestants; a measure which was sup
*
[343 ]
1
posed both conciliatory and innoxious, as very
few of that religion were teachers. Burke was
decidedly against any law which satisfied the
mob, or was likely to oppress any innocent
individual: he discovered that a few persons
would be affected by the proposed measure,
and these he got to sign a petition, which. he
himself drew up, and in which he painted the
proceedings of the Protestant association in
very unfavourable colours. The petition was,
however, supported only by eight members;
and the bill having passed the Commons, was
carried to the House of Lords. Burke still
opposed it with all possible private opposition;
he applied separately to many of the Lords,
and, with his usual eloquence, represented the
measure as impolitic, cruel, and absurd. Lord
Thurlow, who had been lately made Chancel-
lor, encouraged him to have the Lords petition-
ed, as the Commons were. This being done on
the third reading, his Lordship left the wool-
sack, and, in a speech of great energy and elo-
quence, reprobated the bill so successfully as
to have it rejected without a division. This
was a great triumph for Burke. He told some
of his friends, who praised the composition of
the petition, that it should be published in all the
newspapers in England: it never was, however,
published; but a part of it, with some variations,
was afterwards introduced into his famous
speech to the citizens of Bristol.
[344]
1
+
}
The employment of the military, without be.
ing called by the civil magistrate, was certainly
not a desirable measure, but at that time abso-
lutely necessary. The lawless outrages of the
mob, originating in a popular association,
damped associations for the retrenchment of
expence:-so inimical are democratical societies
in their tendency and effects to moderate re-
form. No man reprobated the outrageous
wickedness and madness of the mob more
strongly than Burke: no man was at once a
more zealous friend of constitutional liberty
and a more determined enemy of popular li-
centiousness. As none possessed more exten-
sive knowledge of ancient and modern history,
and politics, or more wisdom to compare and
estimate the tendency and effects of different
governments, none could better appreciate the
value of the constitution of his country. This
session, in which Burke had borne so conspicu-
ous a part, was closed on the 8th of July; and
soon after, this parliament, of which he had
been so active, able, and leading a member, was
dissolved.
Burke finding that his support of the trade
of Ireland, a support, after many difficulties,
at last successful, had displeased a great part
of his constituents, resolved to decline stand-
ing for Bristol. Previous to the election he
made a very masterly speech, comprehending
an account of the proceedings of parliament,
}
[ 845 ]
}
and the principles on which he himself had
acted. In speaking of a bill which had passed
in 1779, (moved by Lord Beauchamp) to pre-
vent imprisonment for small debts, he deliver-
ed his sentiments concerning the debtor laws
in general, and the general question of impri-
sonment for debt. "There are (he says) two
capital faults in our law, with relation to civil
debts. One is, that every man is presumed
solvent; a presumption, in innumerable cases,
directly against truth. Therefore the debtor
is ordered, on a supposition of ability and
fraud, to be coerced his liberty until he makes
payment. By this means, in all cases of civil
insolvency, without a pardon from his credi-
tor, he is to be imprisoned for life. And
thus a miserable mistaken invention of ar-
tificial science operates to change a civil into a
criminal judgment, and to scourge misfortune
or indiscretion with a punishment which the
law does not inflict on very great crimes.
"The next fault is, that the inflicting of
that punishment is not on the opinion of an
equal and a public judge; but is referred to
the arbitrary discretion of a private, nay in-
terested and irritated individual. He who
formally is, and substantially ought to be, the
judge, is in reality no more than ministerial,
a mere executive instrument of a private man,
who is at once judge and party. Every idea of
judicial order is subverted by this procedure.
xy
•
ļ
[346]
If the insolvency be no crime, why is it pu-,
nished with arbitrary imprisonment? If it be a
crime, why is it delivered into private hands to
pardon without discretion, or to punish without
mercy and without measure?"
The opinion and sentiments of Burke on this
subject coincide with that of his sage friend,
Johnson, who, in his Idler, No. 22, maintains
the injustice and impolicy of imprisonment for
debt at the pleasure of the creditor. "The
end (he says) of all civil regulations is to se-
cure private happiness from private malignity;
to keep individuals from the power of one an-
other but this end is apparently neglected,
when a man, irritated with loss, is allowed to be
the judge of his own cause, and to assign the
punishment of his own pain; when the dis-
tinction between guilt and happiness, between
casualty and design, is entrusted to eyes blind
with interest, to understandings depraved by
resentment."-"There can be no reason why
any debtor should be imprisoned, but that he
may be compelled to payment; and a term
should therefore be fixed, in which the credi
tor should exhibit his accusation of concealed
property. If such property can be discovered,
let it be given to the creditor; if the charge is
not offered, or cannot be proved, let the pri-
soner be dismissed." These are the opinions
of two very great men on this subject. Per-
haps it may be thought that they consider the
debtor too much, and the creditor too little.
[347]
Were a mitigation of confinement compatible
with the security of property, were it practi-
cable to compel, in every case, the debtor to
give up his effects to the creditor, as from ef-
fects, not person, his reimbursement must pro-
ceed, confinement might appear no longer to
answer any just purpose to the creditor. The
creditor would then lose nothing, and the la-
bour of the debtor be restored to society. If a
diminution of misery be consistent with the re-
covery of right, if the debtor may be relieved
and the creditor not incur loss, we may expect
it from the humanity, knowledge, and discri-
mination of that learned, able, and benevolent
nobleman who has undertaken the cause of the
unfortunate. In speaking of prisons, Burke
takes occasion to bestow a very just and very
eloquent encomium on the philanthropic How-
ard. "I cannot name Mr. Howard without re-
marking, that his labours and writings have done
much to open the eyes and hearts of mankind.
He has visited all Europe, not to survey the
sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of
temples; not to make accurate measurements
of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to
form a scale of the curiosity of modern art;
not to collect medals, or collate manuscripts;
but to dive into the depth of dungeons, to
plunge into the infection of hospitals, to sur-
vey the mansions of sorrow and pain, to take
the gauge and dimensions of misery, depres-
}
$
}
2
[348]
1
sion, and contempt; to remember the forgot,
ten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the for-
saken, and to compare and collate the distresses
of all men in all countries. His plan is origi-
nal, and it is full of genius as it is of humanity.
It was a voyage of discovery; a circumnavi-
gation of charity. Already the benefit of his
labour is felt more or less in every country; I
hope he will anticipate his final reward, by see-
ing all its effects fully realized in his own. He
will receive not by retail, but in gross, the re-
ward of those who visit the prisoner; and he
has so forestalled and monopolized this branch
of charity, that there will be, I trust, little
room to merit by such acts of benevolence
hereafter."
During the year 1780, affairs in America,
and indeed in Europe, wore a more favourable
appearance to Britain. Charlestown and the
whole province of South Carolina was re-
duced; and the British forces made every ex-
ertion that courage and conduct could pro-
duce. Still, however, the Americans exhibit-
ed no signs of submission. The authority of
Britain was acknowledged in no part, but those
occupied by her forces. A hatred of the mo
ther country was generally prevalent through.
out the colonies. In Europe, Admiral Rodney
had, by a signal victory over the Spanish fleet,
displayed the valour and superior skill of the
British navy. He led his victorious fleet to the
+
[349]
L
West Indies, and there maintained the pre.
eminence of our fleets by considerable advan-
tages, a prelude to a decisive victory, equalling
any in the former annals of British glory,
though since equalled by the victories of the
present war, of the present year, and of the
present month.* The efforts of Rodney could
not have been successful, but with a force that
shewed that the First Lord of the Admiralty
was not inattentive to his duty, and that
Burke, in his imputation of negligence and in-
capacity to Lord Sandwich, was a party speaker,
not an impartial thinker.
7
From the commencement of the American
war, Holland had leaned to the colonies, and
had supplied them with stores. After France
and Spain had become hostile to Britain, she had
also supplied those nations with warlike stores,
contrary to the general principles of neutrality
and particular treaties subsisting between her
and Britain. Various remonstrances on this
subject had been made to the Dutch, which were
disregarded. The Ministry, therefore, resolv-
ing to imitate the example of the illustrious Pitt
during the former war, gave orders for the
seizure of ships laden with contraband goods.
This order was rigorously executed; the Dutch
ships were searched, and contraband articles
* Written Oct. 19, 1797.
[350]
*
taken from them; the full value being paid to
to the owners. The Dutch, very unreasonably,
complained of this proceeding. The British
The
seeing them hostilely inclined, in order to put
their disposition to the test, demanded succours
stipulated by treaty. To this the States Gene-
ral returned no satisfactory answer.
It ap.
peared evident that Holland had determined to
abandon Britain, and join her enemies.
northern powers entered into an association for
promoting a scheme that altered the received
law of nations concerning the right of neutral
states to carry naval stores to the belligerent
powers, and notified to the states at war, that
they had prepared an armed force for protect-
ing every species of neutral trade. It was evi-
dent to every one acquainted with the mari-
time power and situation of the several nations,
that this plan, ostensibly impartial, was really
meant to injure Britain. Thus, from Norway
to Spain, the naval powers were either avow-
edly hostile, or really inimical to Great Britain.
All Europe seemed to have combined to pull
down her naval power. Such a situation, though
alarming, was not without its use. It had a
tendency to STIMULATE THE EXERTIONS OF EVERY
TRUE LOVER OF HIS COUNTRY, AND TO SACRIFICE
NARROWNESS OF PARTY SPIRIT TO GENUINE PATRIO-
TISM. The question was not now, were or were
we not right in attempting to impose taxes on
America, but what were the most efficacious
'
>
$
[351]
means for defending ourselves against so for-
midable a combination? Those were to be con-
sidered as true patriots, not who declaimed
most fluently against the war, but who endea-
voured to find out the most efficacious measures
for national vigour, as the only means of peace.
Out of parliament, disapprobation of the in-
dividual Ministers was in many absorbed in
their wishes to support Government in gene-
ral.
}
1
On February 19th, 1781, Burke revived his plan
of economy, in hopes of better success than
he had experienced the preceding session. He
supported his motion, by a speech necessarily
consisting, as the subject was the same, of many
arguments similar to those which he had used
the
year before; but there was a great accession
of new reasoning, new imagery, new illustra-
tions, which the extent of his knowledge and
fertility of his invention never failed to throw
on any subject, however much it might to other
orators appear exhausted.
*
*
A circumstance distinct from the intrinsic
merit of the question rendered it at this time
remarkable: on it WILLIAM PITT made his first.
speech in the House of Commons.
Mr. Pitt was now in the twenty-second year
of his age, when he entered parliament, with the
expectations of all ranks and parties highly ex-
cited in his favour. It was publicly known that
the illustrious Earl of Chatham had conceived.
}
[352]
$
-
{
the highest opinion of the talents and acquire.
ments of his second son. William had been
educated and formed under the eye of that emi-
nent statesman, who, oppressed with bodily in-
firmities, immersed in public business, and
loaded with years, with the most earnest anxiety
and delight tutored and directed the opening
understanding of his favourite son. From his
earliest age the youth had given the most un-
doubted proofs of intellectual vigour, A regu
lar, judicious, and persevering application did
justice to his great powers. After he had ac-
quired a considerable share of classical litera-
ture, he applied himself sedulously to mathe-
matical studies. This branch of learning was
probably instrumental in forming his masculine
understanding to the precision of thought and
closeness of argument which distinguish his
speeches. He was sent to an university, of
which the exercises have a peculiar tendency
to sharpen, invigorate, methodize, and expand
the mind; and soon impressed both the scholars
and masters of Cambridge with an idea of the
superior figure he was destined to make. De-
voting himself to the studies most prevalent at
his college, more, as Burke had done at Dublin,
for the sake of acquirement than display, he
also treasured up in his mind moral and politi-
cal history and science. Nature had given him
uncommon talents. The plan of his educa-
tion was peculiarly adapted for forming and
[353]
strengthening his faculties, his own choice af-
forded him the most useful materials, and his
judgment directed his powers and exertions to
the most important objects. So qualified and
prepared, on leaving the university, he betook
himself to the study of the law; and with his
powers, previous acquirements, and persever-
ing industry, made very distinguished progress.
His moral qualities and habits greatly facilitat-
ed the operations of his intellect he was un-
tainted by the dissipation which often diverts
to improper objects the force of very great
minds, and by that debauchery which pre-
cludes confident reliance on the exertions of its
votaries, however extraordinary their genius
may be, and even weakens the faculties them-
selves. He had a firmness of temper which
steadily pursued what he perceived to be right;
and adhered to his own plans of conduct, un-
disturbed by the ridicule of frivolity, and un-
seduced by the allurements of vice. His relaxa-
tions from study and business tended to the
improvement of his understanding. Rational
conviviality with men of talents and knowledge
gave to discourse and discussion hours bestow-
ed by many young men on the licentiousness
of the stews or the phrenzy of the gaming-
table.
1
His contemporaries at Cambridge proposed
that he should stand candidate for representing
Ꮓ Ꮓ
[354]
1
the university in parliament: this he declined,
and was returned member for Poole. His first
public appearance had been two years before
his election. Soon after his father's death, a
report had been spread of a negociation hav-
ing gone on the preceding winter, between
Lord Chatham and Lord Bute, for Chatham
coming intỏ Administration. Some said that
Lord Bute had applied to Chatham, others that
Chatham had applied to Bute. This last sup-
position, with great reason, Pitt considered as
derogatory to his father. A statement, pub-
lished by the Chatham family, and drawn up
by Pitt, was considered by Lord Mountstuart
as tending to convey an idea that his father had
applied to Chatham. In endeavouring to re-
fute that notion, he advanced some observations
calculated to make it appear that Lord Chatham
had applied to Lord Bute. Mountstuart, ą
sensible, well informed, experienced man, on
the one side, and Pitt, a youth of nineteen, on
the other, entered into discussion of the sub-
ject. Pitt manifested a striking superiority in
genius and reasoning.
In his speech on Burke's reform, Pitt acquit
ted himself so as to justify the anticipations of
the public in his favour. He in some measure
joind the party which Burke and Fox headed,
but maintained the sentiments of his father re-
specting the independence of America.
[355]
son.
One of the chief excellencies of Pitt's speeches
is the clearness of the arrangement. This ap-
pears to result from a comprehensive mind
viewing the subject in all its parts and relations,
and disposing them in such a way as, from that
view, he perceives, will render them most ef-
fectual. In clearness and comprehensiveness
I think he considerably resembles Dr. Robert-
He completely finishes all that is neces-
sary to be said on one point before he proceeds
to another; so as to preclude the necessity of
repetition. He makes his arguments bear
strongly on the question. In the rapidity and
the abundance of his thoughts, observations, and
arguments, he is probably not equal to Fox.
In the abundance of knowledge, images, and
arguments, neither he nor any man in the house
equalled Burke. But in the appositeness of his
reasonings to the point at issue, in the applica-
tion of means to the end, he certainly equals
either Burke or Fox, and habitually surpasses
them both. If we consider the speeches of these
three great men, Pitt, Fox, and Burke, as we
should do a proposition in Euclid, enunciating
a certain theorem to be proved true or false,
and estimate the arguments of each by their
exclusive tendency to prove the proposition
enunciated, we must certainly give the preference
to Pitt. The closeness of Pitt has converged
the rays of Fox's genius. Fox, no doubt, can
reason closely or loosely as he pleases; but who.
[356]
ever peruses his speeches during Lord North'sad-
ministration, and his speeches during Mr. Pitt's,
will find that, excellent as they were in the former
period, they are still more excellent in the lat-
ter, having their amazing force more compacted
and better directed. In the latter period we sel-
dom find that vehement declamation, that pro-
fusion of invective, which frequently marked his
speeches in the former. Indeed, when we com-
pare Fox's speeches in the House of Commons
with those he makes in mixed clubs, where he
has every thing his own way, and nobody to op.
pose him, we perceive a very striking difference.
In the one he assumes positions neither self-
evident, proved, nor universally admitted to
be true, and declaims upon them as if they
were axioms; in the other he advances no
proposition without either true or plausible
grounds. The acuteness, indeed, of Pitt very
readily perceives a flaw in an opponent's argu-
ment. His eloquence, as well as that of Burke
and Fox, is original. We do not find that it
so specially resembles that of any other orator,
ancient or modern, as to give ground to believe
that he has followed a model. While closely
attentive to logical precision, he has not ne-
glected rhetorical art. His language is proper,
elegant, and harmonious. His speeches, on
the whole, are the result of a strong, full, ca-
pacious, and well formed mind.
About the same time another member ap-
[357]
}
peared on the side of Opposition, also display-
ing talents very superior to those of 'the ma-
jority of parliamentary speakers. Mr. Sheri-
dan having earned and acquired a character by
his comic poetry, surpassing that of any wri-
ter since the time of Congreve, came to dis-
play in the senate a genius that had procured
him such applause on the theatre. Penetrating
acuteness of discernment, fertility of invention,
variety, abundance, and brilliancy of wit,
force and justness of humour, Sheridan pos-
His powers he directs
sesses above most men.
with great dexterity, so as to give them all
possible effect. He is an elegant classical
scholar, and has an exquisite taste. His mind,
however, is not enriched by knowledge equal
to its capacity: hence his eloquence, though
manifesting great ingenuity in occasional ob-
servation, seldom contains a considerable
quantity or variety of new information. That
he can reason well, appears often in the
strength and shrewdness of his remarks and
inferences; but his speeches cannot be said
to have argumentation for a leading character-
istic. His arguments are singly forcible, ra-
ther than collectively chained. Sheridan is not
peculiarly eminent for continuous reply, al,
though his speeches, in opening a debate or dis-
cussing a question proposed by himself, be dis-
tinguished for ability, ingenuity, and eloquence.
But, if his replies are defective, it requires no
[358]
*
great penetration to see that the deficiency is
owing to the want of particular knowledge,
not of general powers. He has dealt more
in sarcasm than any speaker in the house.
Burke, indeed, could be as sarcastic as any
man; but was not so often so as Sheridan. I
remember, when. Sheridan, Fox, and Burke
were co operators in politics, to have heard a
gentleman give the following character of the
severities which each of them occasionally em-
ployed, and Sheridan most frequently. "The
sarcasms of Sheridan, mingled as they are
with the strongest humour and adorned with
the most brilliant wit, appear to result from
natural or habitual acidity of temper; Burke's
to arise either from particular irritation, politi-
cal opposition, or moral censure; Fox never
sour, seldom transported into rage, abounding
in the milk of human kindness, was rarely se.
vere, but from the opposition of party or the
disapprobation of patriotism and virtue."-
Sheridan displays a very thorough knowledge
of human nature, not indeed so much of the
anatomy of mind, as of its active powers, and
the springs that set them in motion. His writ-
ings do not only exhibit manners and the surface
of life; but character, sentiment, and passion;
with their causes and their operation. Men of
genius, in imitative performances, as they ad-
vance in experience, knowing Nature better,
copy from her more closely. In the plays of
[359]
Fielding, written in the early art of his life,
we meet with several fancy pictures; in his first
novel, although there be a considerable degree
of imitation of real life, yet there is in it a
good deal that has no archetype but in the au-
thor's imagination. Tom Jones is a complete
copy of actual and usual existence. This has
been the case with Sheridan in his first come-
dy ingenious and able as it is, some of the
principal characters either do not at all resemble
any to be found in real life, or resemble them
very slightly; of the first sort is Acres, of the
second is Lydia Languish. In the School for
Scandal there is not a character, of which origi-
nals are not to be daily found in real life. This
progression from fancy to actual existence is,
in imitative performances, analogous to that in
philosophical researches from abstraction to
experience. The Rivals is the work of great
genius, operating on somewhat scanty mate-
rials, collected partly only from observation, and
therefore having recourse to fancy: the School
for Scandal is the work of great genius, matured
in the knowledge of that class of objects on
which its-exertions are employed, and taking
real conduct for its archetype.
Sheridan first distinguished himself in par-
liament by a speech concerning the employ-
ment of the military during the riots. Its ob-
ject was to ascertain the circumstances in which
it might be necessary to have recourse to the
[360]
i
•
ཝཱ
military power, and to inquire whether that
necessity, in the case of the riots, was not ow-
ing to the negligence of the magistracy?
Burke voted for his motions, but did not exert
himself in their support. He probably thought
that it was impossible to define a priori what
should constitute such a necessity.
In a discussion concerning Indian affairs,
Lord North proposed certain regulations of the
commercial profits and territorial acquisitions
of the East India Company, against which
Burke made a very eloquent speech, intended
to shew that the plan of the Minister was a vio-
lation of chartered rights; an attempt to rob
the Company, in order to extend the influence
of the Minister, by an addition of lavish and
profligate corruption.
The detractors from Burke have endeavour-
ed to prove, that his defence of chartered
rights, on this and preceding questions con-
cerning India affairs, and the proposed in-
fringement of charters by the East India bill in
1783, wére inconsistent with each other. That
allegation I shall consider when I come to Mr.
Fox's bills.
Towards the close of the session Burke made
a motion concerning the extreme rigour that
had been used to the inhabitants of St. Eusta-
tius, after the capture of that island. He de-
scribed their sufferings, and the rapacity of the
conquerors, in the strongest colours; and took,
>
[ 361 ]
}
as he usually did, a large and general view of
the subject; investigating, from history and
from the writings of the civilians, the right of
conquerors to the effects of the conquered; and
endeavouring to prove that the seizure of pri-
vate property belonging to enemies, in such
circumstances, was a violation of the law of
nations. If by the law of nations is meant the
custom of civilized states, in their various rela-
tions, it does not appear that Burke made out
his case. Besides, Admiral Rodney, the cap-
tor of St. Eustatius, was absent, and it would
have been unjust to have instituted an inquiry
into his conduct without giving him an oppor-
tunity of answering to the charges. The im-
plicit admirers of Burke may impute the pro-
posed prosecution of a victorious commander
to humanity; impartial examiners of his con-
duct will more readily attribute it to party
spirit.
A motion was made, and introduced by the
energetic eloquence of Fox, for the house to
resolve itself into a committee, to consider of
the American war. The motion was supported
by the whole force of Opposition, a combina-
tion of talents of the highest rank,, seldom
united, by Sheridan, by Dunning, by Pitt, by
Burke, and by Fox. Each of these orators, all
fit for being leaders of a political party, exerted
his eloquence on the question. The motion
3 A
362]
was negatived; and soon after the session
closed.
case.
When we consider the number of enemies
with whom Britain had to cope, we might sup-
pose that she would be compelled to act chiefly
on the defensive. This, however, was not the
Her offensive operations were vigorous,
and in some cases successful. Admiral Kem-
penfelt, with an inferior force, defeated a
French fleet off Ushant. Admiral Parker
fought the Dutch off the Dogger Bank, `with
little advantage to either side. In the West
Indies, the British, after capturing St. Eusta-
tius, had several actions with the French fleets;
but without any signal advantages on either
side. In America, the British were victorious
by sea by land several successful inroads were
made into the provinces, and affairs for some
time wore rather a favourable aspect; but re-
ceived a fatal reverse in the capture of thẹ
brave Cornwallis, with the whole of the southern
army. This event contributed, more than any
that had yet happened, to produce an irresisti-
ble conviction in the minds of the British, that
the subjugation of America was impracticable.
As mankind in general judge more from EVENTS
than from PLANS, the discomfiture of our forces
produced great clamours against the Ministry;
even from those who had before been most
strenuous in recommending the coercion of
1
[363]
Amerita, and most sanguine in their expecta.
tion of success. The Opposition, from the ar-
rival of the accounts which came about the
commencement of the Christmas holidays, pro-
posed to proceed against the Ministry with a
vigour now animated by a well grounded ex-
pectation of success. Many, who had profess-
ed themselves the friends of Lord North, either
now really disapproving of his measures, or,
what is as probable, foreseeing that he could
not much longer continue in office, left him.
It was concerted, that the attack should be
begun, immediately after the recess, by Mr.
Fox, who was to make a motion for an investi-
gation into the conduct of Lord Sandwich.
Indisposition for some days prevented that.ora-
tor from attending the house: on which Burke
said, "no one laments Mr. Fox's illness more
than I do; and I declare, if he should continue
ill, the inquiry into the conduct of the First
Lord of the Admiralty should not be proceed-
ed upon; and even should the country suffer
so serious a calamity as his death, it ought tỏ
be followed up earnestly and solemnly; nay,
of so much consequence is the inquiry to the
public, that no bad use would be made of the
skin of his departed friend, should such be hist
fate, if, like that of John Zisca, it should be
converted into a drum, and used for the pur-
pose of sounding an alarm to the people of
England."
•
1
[364]
1
February 7, 1782, Mr. Fox began his at-
tack on the Ministry, by moving accusations
against Lord Sandwich, under five several
heads, which he summed up as the ground of a
resolution declaratory of mismanagement in
naval affairs. Burke supported the motion ;
and though it was negatived, the majority was
so small as to render it probable that Ministers
could not much longer stand their ground.
February 22, General Conway made a motion.
for addressing his Majesty to put an end to the
American War. Burke supported this motion
by all his powers of humour and of serious
reasoning. It was lost by a majority of only
one. February 27th, General Conway put the
motion in a different form, and carried it by a
majority of nineteen. The country gentlemen
now joined Opposition. Lord John Cavendish
made a motion, declaring that the house could
no longer repose confidence in the Ministry,
which was at first rejected by a small majority;
but a few days after, a similar motion was
made, on which Lord North rose, and declar.
ed that he was no longer Minister.
A new
Administration was formed, of which the Mar-
quis of Rockingham was the nominal head and
Mr. Fox the real. Burke was appointed Pay-
master-general.
Thus have we seen Burke steadily and vigo.
rously endeavouring, first, to prevent the con-
test with America; then to end the war, and to
1
[365]
{
have its supporters deprived of those offices in
which they appear to him to follow counsels
pernicious to his country. We have seen him
display knowledge and wisdom equal to any
which a statesman or senator ever exerted.
We see the great philosopher, thoroughly ac-
quainted with every particular and general
truth, applying the most profound knowledge
of the human mind and extensive views
of particular and general history to the conduct
of affairs. On every general question we see
the sage, but on questions respecting particular
men we frequently see the partizan. Burke, in
whatever he engaged, engaged warmly. It is
indeed difficult, if not impossible, for any man
to associate with a set of men, whom he esteems
and respects, without often adopting views and
opinions merely as theirs. The longer one is
connected with a party, the more implicitly
does he embrace their notions, unless they
should go to a length, on either the one side or the
other, to awaken his reflection, and RECALL THE
IMPARTIAL EXERCISE OF HIS JUDGMENT. Burke,
in the progress of the opposition to the Ame-
rican war, became almost a thorough party-
man. We find him frequently supporting
whatever motions any of the Opposition mem-
bers made, with all the zeal that could have in.
spired him from conviction and mature reflec-
tion. He cherished the children of his adop-
tion with as warm affection as if they had been
·
C
[366]
begotten by himself. Besides the general in-
fluence of party sympathy operating on a mind
of the most lively susceptibility, there were
special circumstances in that party which ren-
dered the influence of the sympathy still more
powerful. No man can be more completely
adapted for captivating the minds of those with
whom he has frequent intercourse, than Mr.
Fox. His dispositions are so amiable; his man-
ners so open, frank, and engaging; his deport-
ment so unassuming; he bears his great qua-
lities so meekly about him; he appears so little
conscious of his immense superiority over ordi-
nary men; he is so attentive to the gratifica-
tion of his friends, and indeed to the diffusion
of happiness, that he never fails to win the
love of all with whom he converses. I do not
mention this as a praise to Mr. Fox. A power
of commanding affection, and so influencing
action, may be certainly advantageous to the
possessor himself, and to those within the
sphere of his influence: but it is advantageous
to others, and its exertion meritorious to him-
self, according to its objects. The influence
which Fox has obtained over many is or is not
useful, according to its direction to their real
welfare and happiness, or the contrary. How-
ever that may be, it is a certain fact, that those
with whom he has been embarked have regard-
ed him with an affection much beyond mere
party politics. Those are, of all, the most at-
[367]
tached to him, who, possessing great abilities
themselves, can form the most adequate idea
of his powers. Burke admired and loved Fox;
and though possessing powers of discernment
which even Fox himself did not exceed, be-
came, as the American war advanced, as he
grew more and more connected with Fox, a
more and more implicit supporter of the mea-
sures which that statesman proposed, either
for himself or as the mouth of a party.
A careful examiner of the parliamentary con-
duct of Burke will observe a very considerable
difference between the speeches he made in
supporting his own motions and those of others,
between the children of his adoption and of his
generation. Those of his adoption resembled
the party; those of his generation RESEMBLED
HIMSELF. His speeches, in attacking Sandwich,
Palliser, Germaine, and North, were strongly
tinctured with the partizanship of Opposition,
His speeches on American taxation, on recon-
ciliation with America, on public œconomy, and
such great questions as drew his powers out,
were the speeches not of the party but of Ed-
mund Burke; not of the advocate for a side in
a judicial question, but of a wise and enlighten-
ed senator on momentous subjects of delibera-
tion. Although Fox, in the vehemence of his
invectives against Lord North, had repeatedly
de lared that he wished he might be reckoned
the most infamous of mankind if ever he acted
[368]
in an administration with him, and even said
he would be afraid to be left in the same room
with him, (expressions which every liberal man
will consider as the temporary ebullition of
psssion, not as a deliberate pledge of con-
duct) there was a great resemblance between
these two leaders in several circumstances.
Lord North was a man of most pleasing, ami-
able manners, and very desirous of serving his
friends. Perhaps, indeed, few did more to
promote the interest of those whom he consi-
dered as attached to him. From many, after
his loss of power, he experienced ingratitude;
yet not from all. Several men of great respec-
tability continued to adhere to his cause when
their interest would have directed them to the
opposite course. As he had a heart himself
disposed for kindness, he felt the kindness or
unkindness, gratitude or ingratitude of others
with keen sensibility. One day he happened
to be dining with a gentleman of the law, who
had been a very able supporter of his admini-
stration, and had been patronized by him, and
had ever afterwards manifested the warmest
gratitude and attachment. After dinner, a
little boy, named William, came up to his Lord-
ship, got strawberries from him, and shewed
great fondness for him. Afterwards, at tea,
his Lordship proposing to renew their acquain,
tance, William turned his back upon him.
"Ah! William, (said Lord North) you are
}
[369]
not the only one that paid court to me while I
could give them strawberries, but turn their
backs upon me when I have none to give
them."
Although, no doubt, Lord North's admini-
stration was in many points objectionable; al-
though his indulgence to his friends led him to
too great profusion of donative, his own pri-
vate integrity stands unimpeached. Fox and
Burke, as the leaders of a party, might inveigh
against his continuance in office; as patriots of
extraordinary ability might censure some of his
measures; but neither they, nor any one, ever
accused him of applying the public money to
his own use. As public men, they opposed his
public conduct; as private, they could not per-
sonally dislike a man whose open and amiable
dispositions and manners resembled their own.
The first measure proposed by Fox as Mini-
ster, and supported by Burke, appears to have
been somewhat precipitate:-an offer of peace
to the Dutch, which they received very coldly.
Mr. Fox brought a message from the King,
recommending the adoption of a plan for the
retrenchment of expences. The object of this
was to pave the way for the revival of Burke's
reform bill, which, after several modifications,
passed. Several popular propositions were
made by the new Ministry or their adherents,
and adopted. The resolution of 1769, respecting
3 B
[370]
the Middlesex election, and against which Burke
had displayed such eloquence, was expunged
from the journals of the house. Such measures
were proposed as tended to satisfy Ireland, by
rendering the parliament of that country inde-
pendent of that of Great Britain.
The only
party measure with which this Administration
was chargeable was the appointment of Admi-
ral Pigot to supersede Rodney, who had, on the
famous 12th of April, gained a most celebrated
naval victory. July 1, 1782, the Marquis of
Rockingham died.
Burke wrote the following inscription for the
mausoleum erected to the Marquis's memory in
Wentworth Park, in which Lord Fitzwilliam
has also placed a bust of the author
"Charles, Marquis of Rockingham,-a
statesman, in whom constancy, fidelity, since-
rity, and directness, were the sale instruments
of his policy. His virtues were his arts.
"A clear, sound, unadulterated sense, not
perplexed with intricate design, or disturbed
by ungoverned passion, gave consistency, dig-
nity, and effect to all his measures. In Oppq-
sition, he respected the principles of Govern-
ment; in Administration, he provided for the
liberties of the people. He employed his mo-
ments of power in realizing every thing which
he had proposed in a popular situation. This
was the distinguishing mark of his conduct.
After twenty-four years of service to the pub-
[371]
lic, in a critical and trying time, he left no
debt of just expectation unsatisfied.
By his prudence and patience, he brought
together a party, which it was the great object
of his labours to render permanent, not as an
instrument of ambition, but as a living deposi.
tary of principle.
"The virtues of his public and private life
were not, in him, of different characters. It
was the same feeling, benevolent, liberal mind,
which, in the internal relations of life, conci-
liated the unfeigned love of those who see men
as they are, which made him an inflexible pa-
triot. He was devoted to the cause of liberty,
not because he was haughty and untractable,
but because he was beneficent and humane.
Let his successors, who from this house
behold this monument, reflect that their con-
duct will make it their glory or their reproach.
Let them be persuaded that similarity of man-
ners, not proximity of blood, gives them an
interest in this statue.
REMEMBER, RESEMBLE, PERSEVERE.'
*
J
A circumstance, which happened about this
time, exposed Burke to a good deal of detrac
tion. Powel and Bembridge, formerly stewards
to Lord Holland, when Paymaster-general,
had been summoned by the House of Commons
to account for a balance remaining in their
hands. Their account appeared to most people
[372]
5
a very lame one.
Burke, however, undertook
to vindicate their conduct and character. Some
of his friends, particularly Colonel Barré, think-
ing very unfavourably of Powel and Bembridge,
strenuously dissuaded Burke from interfering.
He, however, was not convinced, and pa.
tronized them. As their defalcation soon be-
came very evident, Burke's defence of them
was imputed to the meanest motives. There
is no evidence adduced, to prove that he vindi-
cated them, on really knowing them to be
guilty; but he is certainly chargeable with
listening to wrong information, or being guided
by erroneous judgment; a charge which merely
proves that he was not infallible.
It was understood by Burke, Fox, and their
adherents, that the Duke of Portland was to suc-
ceed the Marquis of Rockingham. Lord Shel-
burne, however, found means to procure the
appointment for himself, without consulting
with the other members of Administration.
Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke immediately resigned.
Each, in a very able speech, assigned the mo-
tives of his resignation. Lord Shelburne was
known to be against the independence of Ame-
rica,
Burke and Fox considered it as a neces-
sary preliminary to peace, because it could not
be withheld, and the Americans would not
treat unless it were previously acknowledged.
Burke and Fox, who were both open, and above
the petty artifice of court intrigue, were dis-
1
f
[373]
f
pleased with the mode of Shelburne's appoint-
ment, as it had been private, after they consi-
dered him as having agreed that the Duke of
Portland should be invested with the office, and
that the plans of the Rockingham Administra-
tion should be pursued. Pitt, though offered
a high appointment in the Rockingham Mini-
stry, would not accept of it; and abstained from
much connection with Fox and Burke. He had
embraced the sentiments of his father respecting
the independence of America; sentiments dif-
ferent from those of Burke and Fox. During
the Rockingham Administration, Pitt made a
motion for a reform in parliament, which he
supported by very ingenious arguments; argu-
ments, however, the strength or weakness of
which depends entirely on the circumstances of
the times.
Pitt, when Lord Shelburne was made First
Lord of the Treasury, was appointed Chancel-
lor of the Exchequer; an appointment to which
the same objections could not be made as to
that of Premier, Pitt being under no engage.
ments to the late Administration.
Military operations were in a great degree
suspended in America. Admiral Rodney had
gained a great victory in the West-Indies. In
Europe, Gibraltar was the principal scene of
There the courage, conduct, and genius
of Elliot destroyed the works of the Spaniards,
and so rendered the continuance of a siege im-
war.
[374]
1
practicable; whilst the ability and skill of Lord
Howe relieved the garrison from the evils of a
blockade. In the East-Indies, though Britain
had to contend with the French, the Dutch,
and the national powers from the northern
parts of the hither peninsula to the southern,
yet was she victorious, through the abilities of
Hastings.
During the winter a negociation was opened
between the belligerent powers, tired with a
war wasteful to all parties; and a peace was
concluded in January, 1783.
When the session opened, the terms of the
peace were very severely arraigned by Oppo-
sition, now consisting of the friends of Burke
and Fox, and of Lord North, who had formed
the famous coalition.,
When parliament met, December 5th, 1782,
Fox explained the grounds of his resignation
and that of his colleagues. When in Admini-
stration, he had proposed "to recognize the
independence of the United States in the first
instance, and not to reserve it as a condition of
peace." To this proposal Lord Shelburne had
agreed, and had written an official letter to the
Commander in Chief in America, to communi-
cate the resolution to the United States. Fox
then considered Shelburne as having pledged
himself to agree to an unconditional acknow-
ledgement of the independence of America,
"Judge then, (said Fox) of my grief and asto
[375]
nishment, when, during the illness of my noble
friend, the Marquis of Rockingham) another
language was heard in the cabinet; and the
noble Earl and his friends began to consider
the above letter as containing offers only of a
conditional nature, to be recalled, if not ac-
cepted, as the price of peace. Finding myself
thus ensnared and betrayed, and all confidence
destroyed, I quitted a situation in which I found
I could not remain either with honour or
safety." Burke declared himself actuated by
the same motives, and determined by the same
reasons as Mr. Fox, to retire from the Mini-
stry. He made a very able and brilliant speech,
full of wit, satire, and argument, against the
Prime Minister; contending, that his conduct
had been a composition of hypocrisy and ab-
surdity. Although many might blame Burke
and Fox for withdrawing their powers from
Administration, merely because they had been
thwarted in some measures, and in one appoint-
ment, when the country so much wanted the
services of its greatest men, yet no one can
charge them with artifice or duplicity; what
they did, they did boldly and avowedly.
However much several members disapproved
of certain parts of the King's speech, consider.
ing unanimity as necessary at so critical a junc
ture, no one proposed an amendment. When
the conclusion of peace was announced to par-
liament, the terms on which it had been made
[376]
1
excited great disapprobation, both from Burke,
Fox, and their friends; and from Lord North and
his friends. Pitt, with the assistance of hardly
any very able man but Dundas, had, in the House
of Commons, to cope with the combined strength
of the North and Fox parties. The Ministerial
speakers defended the peace as the best that
could be attained in the circumstances of the
country. The coalesced opponents maintained
that our resources were still in a flourishing
state, and that the army and navy were in the
best condition, and could easily stand the brunt
of another campaign. This favourable view of our
situation was certainly much more consistently
exhibited by Lord North, Mr. Courtenay, Mr.
Adam, and Lord Mulgrave, who had uniformly
maintained that our army and navy were in a vi-
gorous state, than by Burke, Fox, and Sheridan,
who had as uniformly maintained that they
were in an exhausted state during many years,
when the national finances had certainly not
been so much drained, nor so many of its troops
consumed as at that time. Burke and Fox
could not justly alledge that the state of our
finances and forces were much meliorated dur
ing their short Administration. They had re-
peatedly asserted that peace on any terms was
adviseable to Britain, when in a much less ex-
hausted situation. They had offered peace to
Holland; they had proposed unconditionally, to
recognize the independence of America; they
[377]
had shewn themselves anxious to attain what
they so often said was necessary to the salva-
tion of Britain on any terms. Their disappro-
bation, therefore, of peace we may, without
any deviation from candour, conclude to have
arisen fully as much from party opposition as
from a conviction of its inexpediency.
}
The ministerial speakers, after defending
the main object, attacked the coalition. They
contended, that an union between men of so
heterogeneous principles as those which Burke
and Fox, on the one hand, and Lord North, on
the other, had always professed to entertain,
must be from some different reason than mutual
agreement of political idea. The combined
parties procured a majority in the house, and
passed a vote of censure on the Ministry. The
coalition was bitterly inveighed against both in
and out of parliament. Though prevalent in
both houses, it was on the whole un popular. To
arraign an union of men once opposite or even
inimical to each other, without considering the
object of the combination, or the conduct of
its members in their combined capacity, would
be the result of prejudice, not of judgment.
A change of circumstances often renders it just
to deviate from that plan of political conduct
which it was once right to pursue, and to act
with those men whom it was once right to op-
pose. The abuse thrown out against Burke
and the other coalesced leaders, merely because
3 c
+
[378]
they had coalesced, after much mutual obloquy,
was the abuse of ignorant declaimers, not of
impartial, informed, and able reasoners. Very
able, well informed reasoners, no doubt, did
very severely blame the coalition; but that
blame must have proceeded from either a view
or anticipation of their conduct.
In consequence of the vote of censure, the
Ministers resigned their employments. A new
Ministry was appointed, composed of Burke,
Fox, the Duke of Portland, and their friends;
Lord North, Lord Loughborough, and their
friends. Burke had his former employment of
Paymaster-general, an employment he accept-
ed for the sake of reform. The business of
the greatest importance, which occupied the
attention of Parliament during the remainder
of this session, was the opening a commercial
intercourse with North America, by repealing,
in the first place, the prohibitory acts which
had passed during the contest; and, in the se-
cond, preparing such new regulations as the
acknowledgment of American independence
rendered necessary. In the new relation in
which America now stood, many new modifi-
cations were requisite for the purposes of com-
mercial intercourse. A temporary act was
passed, investing his Majesty with certain pow
ers for the better carrying on trade and com-
merce between his Majesty's dominions and
the United States. This act was to operate
}
*
[379]
1
:
{
only a limited time, until that branch of com-
merce should be settled by both parties on a
more permanent footing. East India affairs
also were the subject of investigation at this
time. No law, however, was grounded on the
information procured by the committee during
this session.
*
The more complicated and numerous en-
gagements of public business prevented Burke
from being so frequently in company with his
friend Johnson, as before he had plunged so
deeply in politics. Whether, on the whole,
the great mind of Burke might not have been
exerted with as much or more advantage to
mankind in the calm pursuits of literature and
philosophy, may be questioned. It is certain
that every man of extraordinary intellectual
powers is not, in proportion to his talents, fit-
ted for conducting political affairs. Hume,
speaking of the literary efforts of one of the
greatest men the world ever saw, Bacon, after
his dismission from public business, says, "that
great philosopher at last acknowledged with
regret, that he had too long neglected the true
ambition of a fine genius; and, by plunging
into business and affairs, which require much
less capacity, but greater firmness of mind,
than the pursuits of learning, had exposed
himself to such grievous calamities."-Burke
was evidently deficient in that command of
temper which is indispensably necessary to
A
}
4
$
[ 380
t
}
the management of important business. We
see that those of his efforts, which have had
the greatest influence on mankind, have been
literary more than political. Many of the
greatest admirers of his genius have lamented
that it should be devoted to faction; that those
talents, which could instruct, delight, and il-
luminate his own and every future age, should
have been so often employed in pursuing objects
which very inferior talents could pursue with
equal effect; that a mind of compass and ener-
gy equal to any of the age should be wasted in
making or supporting motions about the at-
tacking this or that Minister, screening this or
that opponent of Ministry. On questions which
required nothing more than plain common un-
derstanding and obvious inference from testi-
mony,, he would often soar to the highest sub-
limities, which would have made an eminent
figure in poetry. With a genius for compre-
hending every subject of human knowledge, he
was often the follower of mere party politics.
His literary friends regretted his devotion ta
politics. Goldsmith has hit off Burke's charac-
ter, including the prolixity into which the exu-
berance of his genius and fulness of his mind
often transported him, in the following lines:-
}
}
"Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,
We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much;
Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind;
{
Y
鵲
​1
[381]
'Tho' fraught with all learning, kept straining his throat,
To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote;
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refinia,
And thought of convincing, while they thought or dining:
Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit,
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for å wit;
For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient,
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.
In fine, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in pay, Sir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor !”
Had Dr. Johnson, from his early youth, de-
voted himself to parliamentary efforts, it is by
no means probable, that he would have done
as much good to society as by his Dictionary,
Idler, Rambler, Preface to Shakespeare, and
Lives of the Poets. Of the members of the
literary club, Sir Joshua Reynolds had the
greatest intercourse both with Burke and with
Fox. Johnson frequently observed, that Sir
Joshua adopted the opinions of these great men
too implicitly. Reynolds (he said to Boswell)
is too much under the influence of the Fox-
star and Irish-constellation. There is, replied
Boswell, no Fox-star; but, Sir, there is a dog-
star. Johnson here must have meant a play of
words, as he had the very highest opinion of
the abilities of Fox. Johnson, about this time,
in order to ascertain whether his mental powers
were impaired, determined to try to learn a
new language, and fixed upon the Low Dutch.
Finding he learned it with facility, he desisted,
thinking the experiment had been sufficiently
{
[382]
}
}
>
tried. Burke's ready discernment perceived,
instantaneously, that it was not a fair trial, as
the Low Dutch is a language so near our own;
had it been one of the languages entirely differ-
ent, he might, he said, be soon satisfied. Din-
ing one day at Sir Joshua's, Johnson repeated
his gradation of liquors-claret for boys, port
for men, brandy for heroes. "Then," said
Burke, let me have claret : I love to be a boy,
and to have the careless gaiety of boyish days."
Though Burke relished a cheerful glass, he did
not exceed ; and did not prefer strong wine.
As the Ministry had been active in procuring
a separate establishment for the Prince, the
leading men of them were frequently with his
Royal Highness. One day, after dinner, the
Prince, about to propose a bumper toast, asked
Burke, if a toast-master was not absolute? He
instantly answered, "yes, Sir, JURE DE VINO."
"That is the only way," replied his Royal High-
ness," in which I should wish to be absolute."
Burke, in speaking of any person, could
very happily assume his style. A gentleman
in company observing, that the language of
Young resembled that of Johnson, Burke re-
plied, "it may have the appearance, but has not
the reality; it possesses the nodosities of the
oak, without its strength."
Burke for some time had been devoting his
attention to the affairs of India, to the com-
merce, territorial possessions, and general state
1
[ 383 ].
1
+
+
of the Company's affairs, and also to the con-
duct of their servants in India. It is not doubt-
ed that the knowledge of Burke was instru-
mental in supplying Fox with the materials
from which he formed his bill; a bill, to the
passing of which neither Burke nor Fox anti-
cipated any powerful obstruction. The Minis-
try had certainly many symptoms of strength
superior to that possessed by any Ministry since
the commencement of this reign. It combined
the leading members of both parties during the
American war. It united philosophy and ge-
nius with official experience. To consolidate
parts, formerly heterogeneous, into one mass,
a great weight of aristocratic influence was
superinduced. Lord North retained many of
his numerous supporters. Fox had a less nume-
rous, but more able band of friends: The re-
sult of this union of genius, experience, rank,
and property, was a majority seldom seen in
favour of the Minister from the time of the il-
lustrious Pitt. It was more likely to continue,
because not depending solely on the native ge
nius of the Minister, it had so many strong
adventitious supports. Strong, however, as
the building appeared, there was a latent flaw.
The Administration had been evidently forced
upon the Sovereign, and was suspected by
many, and known by some, to be disagreeable
to that personage and his courtiers. The peo.
ple also regarded the coalition with a jealous
i
***
5
1
}
[ 384 ]
ร
eye. The party which the coalition had driven
from power, it might be well supposed, would
narrowly watch every opportunity which either
the favour of the Sovereign, or the people,
might improve to them. The India bill of Mr.
Fox afforded them the opportunity they wished.
+
The session met on the 11th day of Novem-
ber. The speech and address were received in
the House of Lords, without any censure, ex-
cept from Earl Temple alone; and in the House
of Commons with unanimity and applause.,
was
1
}
Nov. 18, Fox introduced, with a speech that
few ever equalled, and even he himself, never
surpassed, his famous India bill. To enter into
a detail of a measure so well known, would be
unnecessary, and, indeed, foreign to my pur-
pose. It may not, however, be irrelative to.
repeat its leading objects and features, as Burke
its most strenuous supporter. The system
proposed by Fox characterised his ardent dar-
ing spirit, his comprehensive, expanded, and
inventive genius. Whether in its tendency
and principles a good or a bad measure, it was
undoubtedly at once open, decisive, and efficient.
He either assumed or concluded that the East-
India Company had so completely mismanaged
their affairs as to be in a state of insolvency,
and that their servants had been guilty of the
most atrocious oppression in India. On this
hypothesis or conviction he formed his plan.
To prevent the continuance of mismanagement
t
[ 385 ]
}
!
*
by the East India Company, he proposed what
would have been certainly very effectual as to
that object, the taking the management of their
own affairs, territorial and commercial, entirely
out of the hands of the proprietors and the di-
rectors; their house in Leadenhall-street, to-
gether with all books, papers, and documents:
vesting the entire management, the appoint-
ment of all officers and servants, the rights of
peace and war, ard the disposal of the whole re-
venue, in the hands of certain commissioners, to
be appointed, in the first instance, by the whole
legislature, and afterwards by the Crown. It
was proposed they should hold their offices
by the same tenure as the judges of England,
and thus not be dependent on the Minister of
the time. The proposed commissioners were
eight of the particular friends of Mr. Fox.
For preventing oppressive and despotical pro-
ceedings in the administration of the territorial
possessions, a second bill was added, ascer-
taining precisely the powers of the Governor-
general, supreme council, and other officers
which the commissioners might appoint; and
also the privileges of the zemindars (land-hold-
ers) and other natives.
*
Mr. Pitt took a vigorous and de ided part in
opposing this bill. From him indeed and Dun-
das did it meet with almost the sole opposition
it experienced in its passage through the House
of Commons Pitt attacked it in the first place
3 D
1
[386]
+
}
*
as an infringement, or rather annihilation of
the Company's charter; insisting that the
charter was as clear and strong, and the right
founded on it as well ascertained, as that of any
chartered body in the kingdom; that the viola-
tion of the India Company's rights, glaringly
unjust in itself, militated against the security
of all chartered rights. He argued, that be-
sides its injustice respecting the Company, it
would be dangerous to the constitution, by es-
tablishing an influence independent of the le-
gislature; an influence that, from its nature,
would be under the controul of its creator, Mr.
Fox. He did not hesitate to impute so unjust
and so unconstitutional a plan to an ambi-
tious desire of being perpetual dictator. Dun-·
das coinciding with Pitt's idea, that the system
was unjust and unconstitutional, and concur-
ring in his assignation of motives, entered into
a detailed discussion of Fox's statement of the
finances of the Company; insisting that their
affairs were by no means in that desperate state
which Fox alledged. The proprietors and di-
rectors of the East India Company petitioned
the house not to pass a bill, operating as the còn-
fiscation of their property and annihilation of
their charters, without proving specific delin-
quency that might merit the forfeiture of their
privileges and property; asserting, that proved
delinquency alone could justify such a bill, and
desiring the charges and proofs might be
1
1
[ 387 ]
t
+
brought forward.
The people, in general,
were strongly impressed by the arguments of
the opposers of the bill, and the representation
of those whose rights and property it appeared
to affect.. Burke made, at the second reading, a
speech equal for eloquence to any he had ever
produced; whether, however, in the accuracy
of his information, in the justness of his con-
clusions, in the truth of what he advanced,
and the wisdom of what he proposed, he equal-
led his own efforts on other occasions, was not
then so evident.
:
· Burke admitted, to the fullest extent, that
the charter of the East India Company had
been sanctioned by the King and Parliament;
that the Company had bought it, and honestly
paid for it; and that they had every right to it,
which such a sanction and such a purchase
could convey. Having granted this to the op-
ponents of the bill, he maintained, that, not-
withstanding that sanction and purchase, the
proposed change ought to take place. He pro-
ceeded on the great and broad grounds of
ethics, arguing that no special covenant, how-
ever sanctioned, can authorise a violation of the
laws of morality; that if a covenant operates
to the misery of mankind, to oppression and
injustice, the general obligation to prevent
wickedness is antecedent and superior to any
special obligation to perform a covenant; that
parliament had sold all they had a right to sell;
5
+
>
I 388]
*
کو
they had sold an exclusive privilege to trade, but
not a privilege to rob and oppress; and that if
what they sold for the purposes of commerce was
made the instrument of oppression and pillage,
it was their duty, as the guardians of the conduct
and happiness of all within the sphere of their
influence and controul, to prevent so pernici-
ous an operation. After laying down this as a
fundamental principle, he proceeded to argue
that there had been, and were, the most flag-
rant acts of oppression in India by the servants
of the Company; that the whole system was
oppressive. from the beginning of the acquisi-
tion of territorial possession. He entered into
a detail of the principal instances of pillage,
rapine, violence, and despotism, attributed to
the English, and dwelt with great energy and
pathos on those acts of which he alledged Mr.
Hastings to be guilty.
*
On this subject he brought forward the prin-
cipat heads of what afterwards occupied so
much of his attention in the prosecution of the
Governor-general. His imagination, warming
as he went along, figured to him, that the only
monuments by which the proceedings of the
British were distinguished, were waste and de.
solation. Other conquerors, he said, of every
description, had left some monument either of
state or beneficence behind them. "If their
passion or their avarice drove the Tartar hordes
to acts of rapacity or tyranny, there had been
1
[389]
K
ม
time enough in the short life of man to repair
the desolations of war by the acts of magnifi-
cence and peace. But under the English go.
vernment all this order was reversed. Our
conquest there, after twenty years, was as crude
'as it had been the first day. The natives scarce
knew what it was to see the grey head of an Eng-
lishman. Young men (almost boys) governed
there, without society and without sympathy with
the natives. They had no more social habits with
the people than if they still resided in England;
nor indeed any species of intercourse, but that
which was necessary to the making a sudden
fortune with a view to a remote settlement.
Animated with all the avarice of age, and all
the impetuosity of youth, they rolled in one
after another, wave after wave, and there was
nothing before the eyes of the natives but an
endless, hopeless prospect of new flights of birds
of prey and passage, with appetites continually
renewing for a food that was continually wast-
ing. Were we to be driven 'out of India this
day, nothing would remain to tell that it had
been possessed during the inglorious period of our
dominion, by any thing better than the ouran.
outang, or the tyger.". The peroration was an
eulogium on his friend Fox as the mover of the
bill. After a very animated general panegyric,
he entered on the praises of the bill, anticipat-
ing the fervent and adoring gratitude with
which he and the supporters of it would be
A
1
น
}
*
[390]
+
regarded in India. He said, "There was not
a tongue, a nation, a religion in India, which
would not bless the presiding care and manly
beneficence of that house and of him who pro.
posed to them this great work. Their names
would never be separated before the throne of
the Divine Goodness, in whatever language or
with whatever rites pardon was asked for, sin,
and reward for those who imitated the Godhead
in his universal bounty to his creatures."
The bill passed the House of Conimons by a
very great majority. When it came to the Peers,
it met, if not with an abler opposition, with a
much more numerous in proportion to the num-
ber of the assembly; and talents (with the excep
tion of Lord Thurlow) were chiefly on the side
of Ministry. The acute and comprehensive ge-
nius of Pitt, with the sound sense and extensive
knowledge of India affairs possessed by Dundas,
had exhausted the arguments that could mili
tate against the bill. Even Thurlow brought
forward little new matter on the general merits
of the bill, but confined himself chiefly to the
attack on Hastings. "If (said he) Hastings
be a depopulator of provinces, and an enemy
to the human race, let his crimes be brought
forward." The close habits of judicial investi-
gation of that great man represented invective,
however eloquent, against an individual as
mere inanity, unless supported by proof.
Though defended by the Duke of Portland,
{
3
献
​[391]
Lords Stormont, Carlisle, Sandwich, and Lough-
borough, with all the force of their respective
talents, it was thrown out in the House of
Peers. Whether the more decisive opposition
that it met with in that house was owing to the
Lords, from having had more time to consider
its principles and effects, being convinced that
it was an unjust and dangerous measure, or to
some extrinsic cause, I cannot take upon me to
determine. It is certain, that of the Peers (with
the exception of the Duke of Richmond, Lord
Rawdon, Lords Thurlow and Camden, and a
few more) those who were most zealous in op-
posing it, were not those whose talents and ha-
bits of discussion rendered them the most com-
petent judges of great political regulations. It
was understood in the House of Commons that
it had been represented by authority to many
Peers, that those would not be considered as
the friends of the Sovereign who voted for the
bill. Resolutions of great boldness and decision
were adopted, after much debate, by the house,
declaring that it was derogatory to the honour
of the Crown, and subversive of the constitu-
tion of the country, to report any opinion or
alledged opinion of the King on any proceeding
pending in parliament, so as to influence the
votes of the members. The King determined
on an entire change of Administration. The
principal members were immediately dismissed
from office, and a very general resignation of
M
f
Pr
}
[392]
employments took place. Pitt was appointed
Prime Minister. The majority, however, con-
tinued in favour of Opposition in the House of
'Commons. A series of motions was proposed
and adopted, tending to prove that the Minister
ought not to continue in office without the sup-
port of the House of Commons. That no one
could be long Minister if thwarted by the House
of Commons, is obvious; at the same time,
neither law nor precedent was brought forward
to prove that the continuance of a Minister in
office contrary to the approbation of the House
of Commons was unconstitutional. The King
certainly, as chief executive magistrate, has a
right to chuse his own Ministers, (unless un-
der disqualifications ascertained by law) for
performing any branch of the executive duties.
The House of Commons have a right to im-
peach, on the ground of malversation in office,
any of the Ministers, but not to prescribe to
him in his choice of a Minister. Notwithstand-
ing the remonstrances of the House of Com-
mons Pitt continued in office. Although the
majority was against him in the house, it was
very evident that it was for him in the nation.
His Majesty seeing that the opinion of the
House of Commons continued contrary to his
own, and conceiving it to be contrary to that
of his people, determined to put it in the power
of the people to manifest their approbation or
disapprobation of their present representatives.
1.
}
+
[393]
}
By dissolving parliament, he virtually asked this
question, DID YOUR LATE REPRESENTATIVES SPEAK
YOUR SENSE OR NOT? If they did, you will re-
elect them; if not, you will elect others. Being
asked this question respecting their late repre-
sentatives, the greater part of the people an-
swered No. A very considerable majority of
members friendly to Pitt was returned.
The new parliament met the 18th May, 1784.
The first business which exercised the talents
of Burke was a motion for preventing a scru-
tiny into the election of his friend Fox, at the
instance of Sir Cecil Wray. Fox, on this oc-
casion displayed a minute, accurate, and pro-
found knowledge of law, which astonished the
most eminent professional men on both sides.
This motion was negatived, and the scrutiny
proceeded..
June 14th, Burke made a motion for a re-
presentation to the King, the general object
of which was to vindicate the conduct of Op-
position, and to censure that of Administration.
It dwelt particularly on the rectitude and ex-
pediency of the late East-India bill, and on the
dreadful consequences it affirmed likely to ensue
from the dissolution of parliament. Although
Burke's speech on this occasion contained very
great ingenuity, yet the main arguments were
necessarily a repetition of what had been fre-
quently urged before. The motion was nega
tived without a division.
3 E
है
[394]
1
Several bills were proposed by Pitt respect-
ing India affairs, preparatory to his great plan
for managing India. His bill was nearly the
same as that which had been rejected by the
preceding parliament. Its principal opponents
were Mr. Francis, Mr. Eden, and Fox. Burke
did not enter much into its merits. It pro-
ceeded on a principle different from that of
Fox, that the affairs of the Company were not
in a desperate state; that the Company were
fully competent to the management of their
commercial concerns. It proposed that the do-
minion of the territorial possessions should be
placed under the controul of the executive
government; and that a Board should be insti-
tuted for this purpose, to consist of the Mini-
sters for the time being. He considered this
plan as the most efficient for the prevention of
the oppression of the Company's servants in
India, and for the preservation and improve-
ment of our political interests in that country;
and that, on the whole, it would remedy the
evil, without the confiscation of property, or
the disfranchisement of a great corporate body.
Fox represented it as a half measure, and inef
ficient as to its professed object, and that, it
increased to an enormous degree the influence
of the Crown; that the Commissioners propos-
ed by his bill could only be removed upon-an
address from parliament; that his plan was
open and responsible; that the Board of Con-
1
[395]
#
Fox
troul, by Pitt's bill, depended entirely on the
Crown, and that any or all of its members might
be removed, if they should contradict the man-
dates of the advisers of the Crown; that the
negative of the Board of Controul to those ap-
pointments, l'eft nominally to the Directors,
made that Board really the Directors.
affirmed that openness marked every part of
his own bill, but that Pitt's was a dark delusive
scheme to take away by sap the claims of the
Company. Whether, on the whole, the course
which Fox steered, or the course which Pitt
steered, was the best for India and for Britain,
belongs not to a biographer of Burke to deter-
mine.
During the parliament which was now com-
menced, the uncommon genius and eloquence
of Burke were treated by many in the house
with a disrespect which they never before ex-
perienced. It must be confessed, that the rich-
ness of his mind very often diffused itself into
too great prolixity. Beautiful, sublime, and
pathetic, as many of his luxuriant expatiations
were, they did not always tend to promote the
business at issue. Were Homer to recite his
grandest descriptions, his most pathetic epi-
sodes, or most exact characteristics of human
nature, to an assembly of men engaged on spe-
çial business, that recital might be very prob-
ably considered as an interruption to their own
affairs. It might also happen, that there might
1
[396]
J
!
be in such an assembly of men, fully competent
to the details of business, many who might
have neither taste to relish, nor understand-
ing to comprehend such excellencies. In such
a situation, a man of the greatest genius might
naturally expect to meet with checks. Burke,
besides, was very irritable, and often hurried by
passion into most violent expressions. His
prolixity and irritability gave occasion to treat-
ment of which his powerful genius might, per-
haps, be in some degree the cause. While he
spoke, several members made a point of cough.
ing, beating the ground with their feet, and
even hooting. Frolick, perhaps, might have
its share in this mode of opposition, as a great
part of the most active senators in that way
were of an age when allowance may be made
for sport and frolick; and others might claim
some of the allowance to juvenile age, although,
as to date, their youthful years were long pass-
ed. Coughing and hooting were also very
convenient in other respects. The lungs and.
feet were forthcoming for noise, when drafts
upon the brain for argument might not be so
easily answered. The former wère duly ho-
noured; the latter might be returned with the
answer of no effects. The dignity of conscious
superiority ought to have rendered Burke in-
different to such disturbance. He might have
contented himself with reflecting that their
hoots and coughs could not render them in any
[397]
·
*
degrée equal to him: the croaking of the frogs
pught not to have discomposed the lion. In-
stead of that, he frequently fell into the most.
outrageous fits of passion. He once told them
that he could discipline a pack of hounds to
yelp with much more mélody, and equal com-
prehension.
In the beginning of July, he made a speech
on the enormities he ascribed to Hastings. In
the picture he drew, he displayed powers which
might have composed a most admirable tra-
gedy. The sufferings he figured to himself,
and the avarice and cruelty which his fancy
drew as causing them, contained an equal de-
gree of interest and passion with any exhibited
on the stage. He brought forward a string of
motions, as the foundation of an inquiry into
the conduct of Mr. Hastings. Pitt very briefly
opposed this, because there were not proofs of
the fact, on the supposition of which Burke
grounded his inquiry. It does not appear that
at that time there really was that undoubted
evidence of delinquency, which only could sup-
port the proprièty of the motions, Burke's
fancy and passions getting much warmer from
opposition, pictured to him Hastings as the
greatest monster that had ever existed. Per-
sisting in pressing the subject, he was at length
overpowered by a loud and continual clamour.
Burke did not enter much on Pitt's bill for
the prevention of smuggling, and the commu-
+
1
[398]
1
tation a&t. On the commutation act Mr. Cour-
tenay very much distinguished himself, not
only by his humour, but by his information and
reasoning.
tò
In the last measure of the session, framed by
the able and, liberal mind. of Dundas, most of.
the members were of one mind:-the restora-
tion of the forfeited estates. Burke appears to
have been so much occupied by inquiries into
the conduct of Hastings, that he, during the
latter part of that session, seldom spoke,, and
never for any length of time. The session
closed the 20th of August.
Whilst the transactions of the Governor-ge-
neral were engaging the thoughts of Burke aș
a public man, a circumstance took place that
much moved his feelings as a private. Dr.
Johnson, after recovering from an alarming
shock, was now in a state of health which, to-
gether with his age, appeared to predict a spee-
dy dissolution. Burke went frequently to see
his venerable friend, now confined to the bed
of sickness. One day, he, along with his friend
Mr. Windham, and several other gentlemen,
was visiting the dying sage. Burke said, "I'm
afraid, my dear Sir, such a number of us may
be oppressive to you ?"-" No, Sir, (said John-
?”—“
son) it is not so; and I must be in a wretched
state, indeed, when your company would not
be a delight to me." Mr. Burke, in a tremu-
lous voice, expressive of being very tenderly
[399]
affected, replied, "my dear Sir, you have al-
ways been too good to me." He immediately
afterwards went away. This was the last cir-
cumstance in the acquaintance of these two
eminent men.
The lofty spirit of Johnson, unbroken by
old age and complicated disease, Burke vene-
rated, as he had admired his intellectual force
and exertions. He suggested to Boswell, as ap-
plicable to Johnson, what Cicero in his Cato
Major says of Appius :-" Intentum enim animum
quasi arcum babebat, nec languescens succumbebat
senectuti:" repeating, at the same time, the fol-
'lowing noble words in the same passages:-
"Ita enim senectus honestæ est si seipsa defendit, si
jus suum retinet, si nemini emancipata est, si usque
ad extremum vitæ vindicat jus suum.”
Perhaps literary history does not afford a
more striking instance of extraordinary talents,
more happily and beneficially exerted, than in
the mind of Samuel Johnson. An understand-
ing, acute, poignant, forcible, and profound;
an imagination, rich, strong, and brilliant; a
most retentive memory, stored with knowledge;
were uniformly directed to promote the cause
of wisdom, virtue, and religion. "His Essays
(to use the words of his able biographer *)
form a body of ethics." In the usual progres-
Mr. Murphy, in his Life of Johnson, p. 155.
[.400 ]
!
sion of great minds, he became, as he advanced
in years and knowledge, more practical. His
Rambler shewed more of man in his general
nature, as he himself says of Dryden: his Idler,
as he says of Pope, more of man in his local
manners. His Rambler was the work of a pro-
found, comprehensive philosopher: his Idler,
of a man of genius, experienced in life. The
former describes men as they always are; the
latter as they were then in England. As a cri-
tic, the world, since the time of Aristotle, has
seen few, if any, equal to Johnson. Disregard.
ing mere usage, he follows nature and reason.
He considers not the mode in which the Greek
tragedians arranged their performances, but
the operation of passion, sentiment, and cha-
racter in real life. He estimates imitative
works by their likeness to originals. As a bio-
grapher, he stands unrivalled. He thoroughly
knew the human understanding and heart;
was perfectly acquainted with the kind of cir-
cumstances in which his subjects acted; with
their individual history and character. In his
literary portraits he ably marks the progress of
mind; the incidents and causes which retarded
or accelerated its movements, and the comple-
tion of its powers, attainments, and exertions.
As a philologist, Johnson had not mere know-
ledge, but also science: he not only collected
usages, but investigated principles. He has
enriched our language; and improved it, if not
[401]
A
in ease and elegance, in precision and force.
In politics he shewed less advancement than in
philology, criticism, biography, and ethics. I
do not mean the erroneousness only of his par-
ticular notions, but the mode of his general
reasoning. In his other writings be is practi-
cally wise; in his political, speculatively ab.
stract.
From the whole of his works numerous and
important additions have been made to the ge-
neral mass of information; and still more mo
mentous accessions to the general mass of in-
struction. Such have been the consequences
of an extraordinary mind, exerted upon ob-
jects dependent for success on its intrinsic ef-
forts. The moral character of Johnson was as
estimable as his intellectual was admirable. He
was temperate, intrepid, magnanimous, just,
pious, benevolent, and beneficent. His head,
his heart, his purse, were employed in doing
good, and in dispensing happiness. His man-
ners were less agreeable than his other qualities.
were valuable. His temper was irritable;-he.
was impatient of folly and frivolity. He had
an INTOLERANCE TO NONSENSE, very unpleasing
to its numerous votaries; and very trouble-
some in the intercourse of fashionable life: he
was peculiarly inimical to nonsense and folly,
arrayed in the garb of sense and wisdom. But,
with some defects in his social habits, he was,
3 F
[402]
→
as a moral and a religious being, far above
common men.
Johnson esteemed Burke above all men: he
said, he was a perpetual stream of mind.
"Burke is the only man, whose common con-
versation corresponds with the general fame he
has in the world. Take up whatever topic
you please, he is ready to meet you." As
Johnson always praised the wonderful genius
of Burke, Burke allowed the extraordinary ta-
lents of Johnson. One evening that they spent
in company with Mr. Langton, Johnson hap-
pened to take most of the conversation. On
their way home, Burke observed to Langton,
that Johnson had been very great that night,
Langton admitting this, added, "he wished he
had heard more from another person. Oh,
no, (said Burke) it is enough for me to have
rung the bell to him." This observation arose
from Burke's modesty had he appreciated
with impartiality his own powers, he would
have reflected that Johnson or no man was his
superior in genius and acquirements. That
was, indeed, Johnson's own opinion. He one
day quoted, as a very high compliment, an
eulogium on his journey to the Western Islands.
"Mr. Jackson (he said) told me, there was
more good sense upon trade in it, than he
should hear in the House of Commons in a
year, except from Burke." Burke, who, as
>>
{
**
[ 403 ]
}
}
}
}
well as his friend Johnson, delighted most in
exhibitions of human nature, preferred those
parts of the tour that describe the inhabitants
to those which merely paint the face of the
country.
Burke was one of the chief mourners at the
funeral of his illustrious friend; the others were,
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John Hawkins, Mr.
Coleman, and the deceased's faithful black ser-
vant. These were present, besides Dr. Horsley,
General Paoli, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Malone, and
many other distinguished persons. Burke, in
the ardour of his feeling for the loss of Johnson,
uttered the following sentence:-" He has
made a chasm which not only nothing can fill
up, but which nothing has a tendency to fill
up-Johnson is dead. Let us go to the next
best.-There is nobody -No man can be said
to put you in mind of Johnson." If Burke's'
own mind had been uniformly directed to lite-
rature and philosophy, as Johnson's was, and not
interrupted by party politics, he would have
been even greater than Johnson.
Although, except Burke, there was no man
whose literary powers were equal to those of
Johnson, there were still some men of very
great talents, and many of considerable abili-
ties. Robertson, from the publication of his
American History, had rested on his shield.
Gibbon had now given to the world a great
portion of his able and operose work; a work of
+
+
[ 404]
*
which the pious men may disrelish some parts,
on account of the anti-christian tendency; acute
reasoners may alledge, that to promote his fa-
vourite notions, he often makes assertions
without proof; yet every reader of judgment,
comprehension, philosophical and political
knowledge, must allow, that it is a most illus-
trious monument of industry and genius. An-
other history had just appeared, embracing pe.
riods much better known; but, though recit-
ing transactions with which every literary man
was well acquainted, exhibiting new and pro-
found views of the character of the agents,
and unfolding moral and political causes;
marking their operation and effects. The phi-
losophical pen of Fergusson rendered Roman
affairs the ground-work of the deepest and most
expanded moral and political science. Reid
was applying to the subtle subjects of pneuma-
tology the Baconic organ,-induction,-much
more invariably, and conséquently more suc-
cessfully, than any preceding metaphysicians.
Horsley was defending our religious articles
and establishments against the theories and
operations of misemployed genius and learning.
Blair was promoting practical religion and mo-
rality, by making taste the auxiliary of just
sentiment and reasoning; and was disseminat-
ing the love of elegant literature, by simplify-
ing to common capacities the rules for the va-
rious branches of composition: performances
$
[405]
of a lighter cast contain the appropriate excel-
lence. The Rolliad and Birth-day Odes were
very happy effusions of wit and satire. Miss
Burney redeemed novels from the disrepute
into which they had fallen.
Burke was at this time engaged about no lite..
rary production; his attention, though partly de-
voted to the temporary subjects of parliamentary
discussion, such as the Scrutiny and Irish Pro-
positions, was chiefly employed about Indian af-
fairs. From the year 1772 he had kept a watch-
ful eye over the conduct of the Company's
servants. He had accurately investigated the
circumstances and causes of Lord Pigot's im-
prisonment in 1776, and has been one of the
principal agents in the establishment of the
delinquency of the Company's officers, and
ascertaining the causes. Afterwards, when
Dundas was investigating the conduct of Rum-
bold, some circumstances were brought forward
respecting Mr. Hastings, from which Burke
conceived that there was ground for an inquiry
into his conduct.
*
In contemplating Indian affairs, the Nabob
of Arcot's conduct and transactions came to be
very minutely considered by him, and were
the subject of a very able speech in the suc-
ceeding session.
This year Burke was chosen Lord Rector of
the university of Glasgow, of which the fol-
lowing account is extracted from the perio-
#
[406 ]
་
>
•
dical publications of the time." April 10th,
1784, the Right Honourable Edmund Burke
was installed in the office of Lord Rector of the
university of Glasgow; he was attended by
several persons of rank and eminence; the
spectators were very numerous, and testified
their satisfaction by the highest marks of ap-
probation and applause. His Lordship, after
taking the oaths of office, addressed the meet-
ing in a very polite and elegant speech, suited
to the occasion. Having attended public wor-
ship in the college chapel, he was afterwards
entertained by the gentlemen of the univer.
sity."
3
July 14th a cause was tried before Mr. Justice
Buller and a special jury for a libel against
Mr. Burke by the Public Advertiser. Two
men had been pillored at Bristol, for an unna-
tural crime, and had been very severely beaten
and abused by the multitude, to the danger of
their lives. The humanity of Burke interested
itself in the sufferings of wretches, however
worthless, when those sufferings arose not from
the sentence of the law, but from the violence
of individuals. An infamous paragraph ap.
peared in the papers, insinuating that Burke's
reprobation proceeded not from abhorrence of
the cruelty, but from sympathy with the cri-
ninals. So very scandalous a libel was referred
by. Burke, without any animadversions: from ´
Kimself, to the Attorney-General. A prosecu-
>
←
ماء
407]
tion was commenced, and a hundred and fifty
pounds damages awarded to the plaintiff.
About the time that this atrocious calumny
appeared against Burke's character, there was
a very daring attark made upon his property,
and not without success. September 28th, his
house at Beaconsfield was broken open, and
robbed of a variety of plate and other valuable
articles. The robbers proceeded with a degree
of deliberation not very common in such ad-
ventures. They came down from London in a
phaeton, which they had hired in Oxford-street.
They broke open a field-gate at the side of the
road, opposite to the avenue which leads to the
house, and left their phaeton in a corner of the
field. Mr. Burke was in town, but Mrs. Burke
and the rest of the family were at Beaconsfield,
The rogues made their way into the house
through the area. They proceeded to the place
where the plate in daily use was kept, the rest
being in an iron chest in a pantry, in which the
butler slept having got 150l. worth, they re-
treated with their booty. They left behind
them a match and tinder-box, a sack, a wax-
taper, a fashionable cane, and an iron instru-
ment for forcing window.shutters. They also
left a tea canister, which they carried out of the
house; but they broke it open, and took out of
it all the tea. The robbery was discovered about
six o'clock, and a pursuit instantly set on foot,
but to no purpose. It was afterwards found
[ 408 ]
that they had crossed the country to Harrow,
and from Harrow returned to town, through
Islington. The perpetrators were suspected
to have been a discharged servant and accom-
plices, but it was not ascertained.
January 25th, 1785, parliament met. The
first occasion on which Burke made a speech,
calling forth his powers, was on the payment
of the Nabob of Arcot's debts. On the 28th of
February Fox made a motion for the produc-
tion of papers relative to the directions by the
Board of Controul for charging on the revenues
of the Carnatic the Nabob of Arcot's private
debts to Europeans. Dundas maintained that
a principal part of the debt was just, as far as
the documents in their possession could be
credited, and that the remainder was to be the
subject of discussion; that the claimants might
prefer their claims, subject to the examination
of the other creditors, the debtor, (the Nabob
himself) and of the Company, whose revenues
the result would affect. Burke, who had been
at great pains to render himself completely in-
formed respecting the affairs of India, delivered
- an oration displaying most extensive know-
ledge of that country, and the wisest general
principles. If the facts were as he represented
them, the alledged debts arose from a collusion
between the Nabob and certain servants of the '
Company, who had been guilty of the most
heinous frauds, oppression, and cruelties. The
[ 409 ]
pictures of the sufferings of India, and of the
wickedness of its plunderers and oppressors, in
force, animation, and colouring equal any that
had ever been presented exhibiting misery
and guilt.
A motion being made for a parliamentary re-
form by Mr. Pitt, April 18, and supported
with great ability by him, Mr. Fox, Mr. Dun-
das, and other gentlemen, Burke, conformably
to that general plan which had ever regulated
his political reasonings and conduct, declared
himself inimical to any change in the represen-
tation. On that subject he took an opportu
nity of reprobating the dissemination of doc-
trínes among the people, tending to persuade
them that they were aggrieved in the inequa-
lity of franchises. The people, he said, were
very quiet and contented until they were told
that their constitutional rights were violated.
Mr. Richard Burke, Edmund's son, imbibed
the opinions of his father, on the inexpediency
of innovation in the constitution of the legisla-
ture. When Major Cartwright wrote very
earnestly in support of universal suffrage and
annual parliaments, Richard published a most
acute answer, shewing the danger of such a
project, and characterising the classes of indi-
viduals who were most favourable to its adop
tion.
Lord North also spoke very ably against a re-
3 G
}
[ 410 j
A
1
form, and the bill was thrown out by a consi-
derable majority. -
The greater part of the remainder of the
session was occupied about the commerce of
Ireland.
As in the year 1780 the trade of the sister
kingdom had been freed from the hurtful re-
strictions by which it had long been shackled,
and which the wisdom and eloquence of Burke
so clearly saw, conscientiously attacked, and
ably exposed; and as in 1782, its political in-
dependence had been completely established;
the only object which remained for the consi-
deration of the governments of the two coun-
tries, was the settlement of a system of commer.
cial intercourse between them, on the firm ba-
sis of reciprocity and mutual advantage. To
effectuate that important object, Mr. Pitt made
very minute and extensive inquiry into the re-
lative and absolute state of manufactures, and
other materials of commerce, in both kingdoms.
Receiving, in resolutions of the Irish House of Com-
mons, assurances of the wish of that body to
settle their commercial intercourse on the basis
of reciprocity, and also the outlines of a plan
for the purpose, he submitted to the house
propositions to be offered to Ireland on the
part of Britain. These he reduced into two ge.
neral heads :-
First, The importation of the produce of our
[411]
colonies in the West Indies and America into
Ireland.
Secondly, A mutual exchange between the
two countries of their respective productions
and manufactures upon equal terms.
The examination of merchants and manufac.
turers took up so much time, that for some weeks
there was little or no debate in the House of Com.
mons. The propositions afterwards were the sub-
ject of very ample discussion, during which the
leading men on both sides distinguished them-
selves. They passed through both houses of the
British parliament; but, when offered to the con-
sideration of the Irish, they experienced so cool
a reception, and so small a majority, that their
virtual abandonment was deemed expedient.
The Irish propositions called forward less
the oratorial powers or philosophical expan-
sion of Burke, than the extent and minuteness
of his knowledge. This appeared very strik-
ing in his conversations on the materials and
processes of various articles of manufacture,
the market for them, and the probability of its
being affected by the proposed plan. Indeed
no subject escaped his attention.
Burke, whenever he spoke of the enormities
of the East India Company's servants, describ
ed Mr. Hastings as the Captain-general of ini-
quity; and pledged himself to bring forward
momentous charges against him, as soon as he
should arrive in England. During the recess of
[412]
で
​}
1785, Mr. Hastings returned from India. Par-
liament met January 24, 1786. After his Ma-
jesty's speech had undergone a discussion, Ma-
jor Scott, agent to the late Governor-general of
Bengal, reminded the house that Mr. Hast-
ings had been some months arrived from his
government; and he, therefore, called on Mr.
Burke to bring forward the charges. Mr. Burke
replied to the Major, by relating an anecdote
of the great Duke of Parma, who, being chal-
lenged by Henry the Fourth of France "to
bring his forces into the open field, and instant-
ly decide their disputes," answered, with a
sniile, "that he knew very well what he had
to do, and was not come so far to be directed by
an enemy.
Though Burke did not immediately proceed
to the proposed investigation of Mr. Hastings's
conduct, it now engaged his atttention so much
that he did not enter greatly into other subjects
of parliamentary deliberation. On the Duke
of Richmond's plan of fortification, while Pitt,
of the Ministers, stood almost alone, Opposi-
tion was conducted by the joint ability of Mr.
Windham, Mr. Courtenay, Mr. Fox, Lord
North, and Mr. Sheridan; but without the aid
of Burke. On the reduction of the national
debt, the transfer of duties on wine from the
Customs to the Excise, and several other sub.
jects of consequence, he did not take an active
part.
[413]
#
February 17th he called the attention of the
house to the conduct of Mr. Hastings.
No measure, which he ever supported, sub-
jected Burke to more obloquy and abuse than
the prosecution of Hastings. The most frivo-
lous, contemptible, and malignant motives
were ascribed to him by those who either were
favourable to the Governor-general, from admi-
ration of his general conduct, from gratitude for
particular benefits, or pretended to be so from re-
ceiving pay. Mr. McCormick, in deducing the
proceedings of Burke from resentment against
Mr. Hastings, on account of inattention to Mr.
William Burke,is merely the repeater of hack nied
abuse; and has not, as in many of his asser-
tions against this great man, the merit of ori-
ginality. That Burke, or any man, would un-
dertake so laborious a task, which required
such minuteness of investigation concerning so
intricate details, the materials to be fetched
from such a distance, with so great and power-
ful a body inimical to an inquiry, merely be-
cause his friend had been slighted, is hardly
within the compass of credibility. The allega-
tion is supported by no proof, and is altogether
improbable.
Although the prosecution of Hastings long
engaged, and at last fatigued the public atten-
tion; and although Burke's conduct in it has
been often discussed; yet there are many who
have neither considered the rise and progress
[414]
of the discussion, nor the series of Burke's pro-
ceedings, so as to be able to form an accurate
estimate of his motives and reasons.
It may,
therefore, be not irrelative to the object of this
work to take a short review of the steps that led
to the impeachment.
The act of 1773 had empowered his Majesty
to constitute a supreme court of judicature,
whose authority should extend to British sub-
jects, or such others as were for the time em-
ployed in the service of the India Company.
Complaints were made by the Supreme Coun-
cil, private subjects of Britain in India, and the
Company, 1. That the judges had greatly ex-
ceeded their powers: 2. That it extended its ju-
risdiction to persons whom it does not appear
to have been the intention of the King or Parlia-
ment to submit to its jurisdiction: 3d. That it has
taken cognizance of matters, both originally and
pending the suit, the exclusive determination of
which they humbly conceive it to have been the
intention of the King and Parliament to leave
to other courts: 4. That the judges consider
the criminal law of England as in force, and
binding upon the natives of Bengal, though
utterly repugnant to the laws and customs by
which they have formerly been governed. Pe-
titions were presented to Parliament by three
classes, affected by what they conceived to be
an unwarranted assumption of jurisdiction:
first, the agents of the British subjects; se-
[415]
}
condly, the Governor-general and Council;
thirdly, the Company. The petitions were re-
ferred to a Select Committee, composed of
members of different sides of the house; Burke
was one, and Dundas was chairman. The
object of the Committee was an inquiry into
the proceedings, not of Mr. Hastings, but of
the judges.
A great variety of facts were
stated to the Committee, particularly under the
first head of complaint. It appeared, that the
English judges had taken cognizance of causes
between native land-holders not in the service
of the Company; consequently, by the act of
parliament, not within the jurisdiction of the
English court; and had proceeded in several
cases to inflict severe penalties on those who re-
fused to recognize their authority. The most
important instances of alledged extra-judicial
assumption were, in civil actions, the Patnar
and the Cossijurah causes. In the first, two na-
tive magistrates, men of rank and respectabi-
lity, were imprisoned, and their effects confis-
cated, by an English sheriff, for their official
conduct in a case out of the jurisdiction of the
English court. In the second, the Rajah of
Cossijurah having resisted the jurisdiction of
the court, the sheriff had dispatched an armed
force to compel obedience; but the Governor-
general and Council ordered a more numerous
body to march speedily, and prevent what they
conceived to be illegal acts. The most noted in-
stance of interference in extra-judicial cases of
[416]
L
*
criminal process was the trial and execution of
Nundcomar for forgery. That person had
been proved to have been guilty of the crime;
but neither he, nor the person whose name
was forged, were subject to the jurisdiction
of the English court. By the laws of India
forgery is not punishable capitally. Thus a
man was put to death by a court, to which
he was not amenable, for a crime not ca.
pital by the laws to which he was amenable.
These, and many other instances of the usurped
jurisdiction, proved to be hateful and terrible
to the natives, were reported by the Committee
to the house; observations were added, not
only on the justice but the political tendency
of the usurpation by the judges. The Com-
mittee was now instructed to take a wider
range of inquiry: it was "appointed to take
into consideration the state of the administra-
tion of justice in the provinces of Bengal, Ba-
har, and Orissa, and report the same, as it
should appear to them, to the house, with their
observations thereupon; and they were in-
structed to consider how the British possessions
in the East Indies may be held and governed
with the greatest security and advantage to this
country; and by what means the happiness of
the native inhabitants may be best promoted."
Their investigation being now not confined
to the proceedings of judicative officers, ex-
tended itself to the deliberative and executive,
In the course of this discussion, acts and pro-
[417]
f
ceedings of Hastings excited their animadver-
sion. Many statements were laid before the
Committee which tended to attach blame to the
conduct of the Governor-general; at least, ac.
cording to the notions of right and wrong that
prevailed in England. *
J
In the management of the revenue, Mr. Hast-
ings had assumed a principle, "that the ruling
power in India was the absolute proprietor of the
soil; that, therefore, the zemindars (or land-hold-
ers) were subject to every exaction they could
possibly bear, which the English Government
chose to require." This principle, so contrary
to British notions, was also inconsistent with
those of India; so that, if geography changed
the nature of justice, such exactions were not
consonant to justice in India. As the Com-
mittee was instructed to consider, among other
things, how the security and happiness of the
native inhabitants might be best promoted, it
was a part of their duty to report conduct
which certainly did not tend to promote that secu-
rity and happiness.
The Rohilla war also attracted their notice.
* Mr. Sheridan, in one of his celebrated speeches on the
Begums, delivers an opinion that right and wrong do not
depend upon geography. Many may probably think he has
reason on his side; there is, however, authority, and the
authority of some of the richest men of the nation, in favour
of a maxim, that what would, in Britain, be oppression and
robbery, was, in India, justice.
3 H
+
[ 418 ]
1
The Governor-general had been forbidden
by the East India Company to engage in of-
fensive wars. He had, however, assisted the
Nabob of Oude, Sujah Dowla, in the reduc-
tion and extirpation of the Rohillas. The
Committee saw no grounds for this expedition
and extirpation. Mr. Hastings, afterwards
speaking on this subject, said, "an occasion
took place, when, by a slight deviation from the
defensive plan, our alliance with the Nabob
might be converted into solid advantages. In
effect, the same reasons which before urged us
to shun every military expedition, now operated
in the contrary direction, and recommended
the employment of our army for the purpose of
REDUCING Our EXPENCES and ADDING to our cUR-
RENCY." It is by no means probable, that the
Committee would have admitted this principle
of Mr. Hastings, that it is a good reason for
war, that it may add to currency; in other
words, that aggression is just, when it may bring
money; even had it been laid before them. But
as the position had not then been advanced, the
Committee had not an opportunity of allowing
it the due weight.
It was stated to the Committee that the Ra
jah Cheyt-Sing had been expelled from Benares
for the following reasons:-In an agreement
between the Nabob of Oude and the Governor-
general, it was settled that Cheyt-Sing, the trị-
butary of Oude, should transfer one half of his
}
[ 419 ]
tribute to the India Company; that the zemin-
dary of Benares, which had descended to him
from his father, should be guaranteed to him
by the Company on paying that tribute; the
Company pledging its faith that no encroach-
ments should ever be made on his rights by the
Company. This faith was pledged for the Com-
pany by the signature of WARREN HASTINGS.
The rights guaranteed by this pledge was the
undisturbed possession of the zemindary of
Benares, on the due performance of his part of
the covenant, the payment, monthly, of a sum
amounting annually to about 260,0001. Cheyt-
Sing was uniformly punctual in the stipulated
payments, as Hastings himself admitted.
On the breaking out of the war with France
in 1778, the Governor-general required from
Cheyt Sing a contribution not stipulated in the
agreement, the establishment and mainte-
nance of three battalions of Seapoy's. Estimating
the expence of the required troops: at about
55,000 1. (five lacks of rupees) he ordered the
Rajah to pay that sum immediately into the trea-
sury of Calcutta. Cheyt-Sing pleading inability
to obey this order of payment, beyond agree.
ment, instantly prayed for delay and for
monthly instalments. That accommodation was
not allowed him; he was compelled to pay the
whole of the exaction within three months. The
same demand was made the two succeeding
years, and the Rajah was obliged to submit.
f
}
[420]
In 1781, an additional demand of thirteen
hundred horse was made by Mr. Hastings.
The Rajah equipped part, but declared his in-
ability to furnish the whole of the requisition.
Mr. Hastings deigned no answer to this repre-
sentation; but proceeded to Benares, accused the
Rajah of a conspiracy to stir up rebellion, and
finally put him under arrest. The Rajah's sub-
jects conceiving their Lord, to whom they were
warmly attached, to be in danger, attacked his
guards, and forcing their way through them
with great slaughter, rescued the Rajah, and
conveyed him to a distant place of refuge.
Thence he sent a suppliant letter to the Go-
vernor-general; to which he made no reply,
but attacked the troops of Benares as if in a
state of rebellion, and soon reduced that whole
country. The Rajah retired into banishment
among the Mahrattas. The expulsion of a
proprietor, on specified conditions, for not com-
plying with every demand beyond these condi-
tions, (although he had contributed consider-
ably more than the contract stipulated) by no
means accorded with the Committee's ideas of
justice.
Hastings declared it to be his opinion, that
Cheyt-Sing's REBELLION was only a part of a
grand combination against the Company. Ru-
mours had spread that the Begums, the grand-
mother and mother of the Nabob of Oude, were
concerned in this conspiracy, and had foment-
1
[421]
Σ
ed the insurrection in Benares. Certain jaghires,
(treasures) had been left by the late Nabob for
the support of his widow and mother, and the
property had been secured to those Princesses
by the guarantee of the Supreme Council of
Calcutta. After the expulsion of Cheyt-Sing,
the Nabob had met Mr. Hastings at Chunar,
and a treaty had been concluded between them,
by which the Nabob was permitted to resume
the jaghires,-to seize upon the property of
his parents that was bequeathed to them by his
father, and guaranteed by the Council, of which
the principal member now sanctioned the con-
fiscation. The Nabob acknowledged a very
great debt to the Company; and as his mother
and grandmother were very rich in money,
jewels, and other effects, their property was, no
doubt, a very efficient and productive fund for
the liquidation of his debts. It was, besides,
alledged, that the Begums were likely to use
their treasures to very pernicious purposes.
There could not be more effectual means for
preventing them from the misapplication of
money, than leaving them none to misapply.
The payment to the Company of the treasure
so confiscated would, no doubt, add to the
currency: it was, therefore, in the view of emo-
lument, a very desirable object. The opinion,
that the Begums were likely to make a bad use
of their money, had for its support numbers of
affidavits, which the Chief-Justice and Mr.
I
I
[422]
Hastings professed to credit much more than
the Committee approved. The matter of the
affidavits was chiefly general,-that the Begums
were disaffected to the Company; and the evi-
dence hearsay, that it was reported they fo-
mented the rebellion of Cheyt-Sing. No. spe.
cific proofs were adduced to shew that they were
disaffected to the English, fomented the rebel-
lion of the Rajah, or, indeed, that there was
any rebellion to foment. Mr. Hastings, how-
ever, professed to think otherwise; and at last
not only permitted, but URGED the Nabob to seize
the property of his mother and grandmother.
Mr. Middleton, Hastings's agent in that country,
was instructed to insist on the Nabob's resump-
tion of the jaghires, and found (to use his own
words) much trifling evasion and puerile excuses
in the Nabob, when admonished to plunder his
parents. At length, however, he consented;
at least the act was performed, and with such
expedition and industry, as to leave the Prin-
cesses, before imensely rich, almost without the
necessaries of life. The Committee disapprov
ed very highly of the confiscation of the pro-
perty of the Begums. It is possible, that if a
certain witness had been present, and that it had
pleased God to allow him the full use of his
memory, he might have given to the Committee
unequivocal proofs of the purity of the Gover-
nor-general's intentions.
{
It appeared also to the Committee, that PRE-
[423]
2
SENTS had been accepted by the Governor-gene-
ral, although contrary to the orders of his em-
ployers and the tenor of his oath.
attas
To his conduct the war with the Mahrattas
and with Hyder-Ali were imputed by the
Committee.
{
These were the principal heads (though
not all) on which the Committee grounded a
a report, containing strong disapprobation of
Hastings's conduct. The facts were certainly
such as to justify very unfavourable notions
respecting the equity and even policy of Mr.
Hastings's government. He might afterwards
refute the charges, or assign satisfactory rea-
sons; but as they stood, supported by respect-
able evidence, it was the duty of Burke, and
every other member of the Committee, to make
the report they did. There is not the shadow
of a proof that Burke was actuated by resent-
ment against Hastings; and if he had, the ori
ginal object of the Committee did not relate to
the Governor general; he became the object
of consideration in the unforeseen progress of
inquiry. The result was such, that if Burke
was actuated by resentment, duty required the
same conduct that resentment would prompt.
Mr. Dundas, as chairman of the Committee,
brought up the reports. On them was ground-
ed a series of resolutions, condemning, in the
most decisive terms, the whole system of In-
dian politics. The last resolution set forth,
{
1
[424]
That Warren Hastings, Esq. Governor-gene-
ral in Bengal, and William Hornby, Esq. Pre-
sident of the Council at Bombay, having, in
sundry instances, acted in a manner repugnant
to the honour and policy of this nation, and
thereby brought great calamities on India, and
enormous expences on the East India Company,
it is the duty of the Directors of the said Com-
pany to pursue all legal and effectual means
for the removal of the said Governor-general
and President from their said offices, and to
recall them to Great Britain."
Burke, whose comprehensive mind consider-
ed every subject on which it engaged in all its
relations of cause, effect, and circumstances,
after the inquiry of the Committee, made India
more than ever the subject of his attention;
and not discovering exculpatory matter to un-
do the impression made on him, the Commit-
tee, and the house, by the narrative of Mr.
Hastings's conduct, thought that there was
sufficient reason for an impeachment. This
he pledged himself to move, when Mr. Hast-
ings's return should enable him to refute false.
charges. What there was in such conduct, on
grounds, till overturned, at least probable, to
impute it to the operation of resentment, had
the existence of that passion, or even of an
adequate cause been proved, it is difficult for
an impartial man to discover. If it was re-
sentment, the passion was guided by much
1
(
[425]
more wisdom, and accompanied by much more
justice than it generally admits. Burke wait-
ed for an extensive knowledge of facts before
he drew a general conclusion, and after he had
done so, publicly avowed his resolution; so
that Mr. Hastings had the time and means of
bringing forward his defence.
I have thought this recapitulation of the rise
and progress of the proceedings against Mr.
Hastings necessary, to remind those of my
readers who have forgotten the circumstances
of the case, that THE DISCUSSION OF THE GOVER-
NOR-GENERAL'S CONDUCT WAS NOT OF BURKE'S
SEEKING, BUT FORCED ITSELF ON HIM, IN CON-
JUNCTION WITH OTHER GENTLEMEN, IN THE PER-
FORMANCE ÓF A PARLIAMENTARY DUTY FOR
WHICH THEY WERE SELECTED.
هير
-
It is not my intention to enter into the
merit or demerit of Hastings as ascertained
after the evidence on both sides had been
brought forward. Arguments to prove his
- innocence would be unnecessary and presump-
tuous, after its establishment to the satisfac-
tion of the highest court of judicature in the
kingdom. An attempt, after such a purga-
tion, to attach guilt to him would be arro-
gant and indecorous, as it would be setting up
the opinion of an individual against the autho-
rity of collective wisdom. From the EVENT of
the trial, compared with the allegations of Burke,
many were confirmed in the opinion, that his
3 !
1
}
1
[426]
3
1
object was the persecution of a man whom he
knew to be not culpable. Whoever considers
the Rohilla war, the administration of the re-
venues, the presents, the expulsion of Cheyt-
Sing, and the seizure of the treasures of the
Begums, with the documents, testimonies, and
circumstances that appeared to the Committee,
and afterwards, even on the trial, may find
sufficient grounds for a man, feeling and rea-
soning as an Englishman, to impute culpability,
great culpability, to Mr. Hastings. His sub-
sequent justification of conduct, apparently
blameable, does not render the inquirer into
these appearances, and very prominent ap-
pearances, of wrong the object of censure. A
man must judge from probability, and very
strong probability, until it is proved not
to be true. Apparent culpability is a pro.
per subject of investigation, although, on in-
quiry, either proof of guilt should be want-
ing, or innocence be established. We can no
more justly blame Burke, Fox, and Sheridan,
for moving an impeachment on the chief sub-
jects, and other gentlemen on less important
charges, nor the House of Commons for agree-
ing to the motions, although the Peers after-
wards acquitted the defendant, than we should
blame an Attorney-general for commencing a
prosecution upon the probable grounds of
oral and written evidence, or a grand jury for
finding a bill, although the person arraigned
18
M
[427]
}
should, on his trial, have a verdict in his favour
of Not Guilty.
Presuming Hastings, therefore, innocent, be.
cause NO PROOFS OF THE CONTRARY WERE FOUnd
BY THE HOUSE OF PEERS, I shall consider the
prosecution against him rather as a display of
powers than as an eviction of truth. Perhaps
never a judicial inquiry called forward such
án exertion of genius, such an extent of know-
ledge, such a force and variety of eloquence.
The subjects were indeed of the highest im-
portance: the question was, whether or not a
man, entrusted with a power that extended
over many millions, a power designed to be
exercised for the joint advantage of its subjects'
and its bestowers,-was employed for the ad-
vantage or hurt of either or both? Whether
Mr. Hastings, invested by the India Company
with an authority which rendered the interests
of that commercial body and the happiness of
the most extensive and populous countries in
a great measure dependent on his wisdom and
will, had been, on the whole, the author of
good or the dispenser of misery? The matter to
be determined was not whether a small island
had been plundered by its prætor, † a pecula.
tion and oppression, which, if true, from the
vicinity of the province to the supreme power, ‡
*
Sicily, + Verres, + Rome.
'
}
E428
练
​could be soon punished and easily redressed
but whether a multiplicity of large nations had
been pillaged, 'desolated, and destroyed by the
Governor; a peculation and oppression, much
more enormous, because the trust was so much
more important; the miseries inflicted by its
breach must be much more extended; and from
the extent of the sufferings and remoteness of
the scenes, redress would be impracticable.
The exposure of enormities, which might
have taken place in such circumstances, and
were alledged to have actually taken place, re-
quired most persevering industry and the
greatest, ability. Both they occupied. When
we consider that, for several years, the conduct
of Mr Hastings employed a great part of the
intellectual exertions of Sheridan and Fox, and
a much greater portion of those of Burke,-and
that, in fact, no material delinquency was prov-
ed against the object of the frequent and reite- -
rated attacks of so extraordinary force and per-
severance, can we refrain from thinking these
operations, respecting their professed object, a
WASTE OF GENIUS ?-a waste unparalleled in the
annals of intellectual effort. If Hastings had
been really guilty, their time would have been
mispent, because they did not bring the proofs
to demonstrate that guilt to the judges: if really
innocent, their powers and labours were mis.
employed in endeavouring to prove what was
not to be proved.
429]
*
The friends of Hastings very injudiciously
and uncandidly ascribed bad or frivolous mo-
tives to the chief men on both sides of the house
who voted for the impeachment. Their asser-
tions or constructions, however, prove nothing
against the propriety of the measure.
It was
very easy to assert that Burke was actuated by
resentment; that Fox, Sheridan, Windham,
Courtenay, and other leading members of
Opposition, merely wished to gratify Burke ;
or that Pitt, Dundas, Grenville, and other
leading men of Administration, were actuated
by jealousy of the influence of Hastings. It
requires no great ability to assign bad motives;
and besides, the motives, even were they proved
to be bad, would not affect the truth or falsehood
of any proposition which they might dictate.
If we believe a friend to be innocent, and able
to prove his innocence, we are very imprudent,
and indeed very foolish, in resting his exculpa.
tion on any thing extrinsic.
Although I certainly must consider the won-
derful eloquence displayed during the proceed-
ings respecting Hastings as eventually a waste
of genius, yet I am far from meaning to say,
that at the time it was a wrong direction, of
talents. Besides, the speeches of the great ora-
tors contain a very uncommon portion of the
wisest general observations. The opening
speech of Burke on the modes of bringing a
public delinquent to justice, on the character
县
​1
*
[430]
and situation of the accuser, and the motives
by which he ought to be actuated, exhibit at
once a most extensive knowledge of the crown
law of this kingdom, of the science of jurispru-
dence, and of ethics in general; and in that
view, without considering its reference to Mr.
Hastings, it combines legal information and
mo: al instruction. His speech on the Rohilla
war unites a most complete acquaintance with
the Roman policy in the management of distant
provinces, and, that of modern Europe, to the
wisest and most liberal principles respecting that
department of government. His eloquence, if it
did not prove the points he wished to establish
concerning Hastings, and was in that view a
waste of genius, yet contains facts, images, sen-
timents, and philosophy, that render it delight-
ful and estimable,
That mind which could itself produce such
astonishing intellectual efforts, paid the just
tribute of praise to extraordinary exhibitions
of genius in others. On the celebrated speech
of Sheridan on the Begum charge, he bestowed
the following very high, but not exaggerated
panegyric.
He has this day surprised the thousands,
who hung with rapture on his accents, by such
an array of talents, such an exhibition of сара.
city, such a display of powers, as are unparal-
leled in the annals of oratory; a display that
reflected the highest honour upon himself-lus-
1
1
[431]
$
tré upon letters-renown upon parliament-
glory upon the country. Of all species of rhe-
toric, of every kind of eloquence that has been
witnessed or recorded, either in ancient or mo-
dern times; whatever the acuteness of the bar,
the dignity of the senate, the solidity of the
judgment-seat, and the sacred morality of the
pulpit, have hitherto furnished, nothing has sur-
passed, nothing has equalled what we have
heard this day in Westminster-Hall. No holy
seer of religion, no sage, no statesman, no ora-
tor, no man of any literary description what-
ever, has come up, in the one instance, to the
pure sentiments of morality, or, in the other,
to that variety of knowledge, force of imagi-
nation, propriety and vivacity of allusion,
beauty and elegance of diction, strength and
copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity of
conception, to which we have this day listened
with ardour and admiration. From poetry, up
to eloquence, there is not a species of composi-
tion, of which a complete and perfect specimen
might not, from that single speech, be culled
and collected."
{
After quoting this encomium, Mr. M'Cor-
mick makes the following observations, which
require animadversion. "How sweet is praise,
when uttered by the lips of eloquence! Yet
sweeter still, when it flows from the heart of
sincerity! But Mr. Burke's language, on this
occasion, was dictated by artifice. The near ob.
1
*
པ་-་
A
[432]
2
2
servers of his sentiments and emotions could
perceive that he felt himself surpassed by Mr.
Sheridan in all the favourite walks of his own
genius; that the canker-worm of envy had
gnawed its way into his bosom; and that he
strove to conceal its sharp corrosion under
the shew of the most zealous and liberal ap-
plause
>>
There is nothing easier than to assign bad
motives, but their existence is to be proved by
something more convincing than mere asser-
tion. Is there any evidence that Sheridan was
the object of envy to Burke? Mr. McCormick
adduces none. There is, therefore, only his
affirmation, to which a negative is an equiva-
lent. But, as a matter of verisimilitude, what is
there in the relative talents, character, and si-
tuation of both, that could render it probable?
Sheridan is, no doubt, a man of great genius
and great eloquence; but is there any thing in
his genius or eloquence, the superiority of
which could gnaw the mind of Burke? Let an
impartial reader peruse the speeches and con-
sider the efforts of both, and answer this ques-
tion: let him read the most admired produc-
tions of that very admirable,orator, and let him
compare them with the speeches of Burke on
American taxation, on reconcilement, on œco.
nomy, on the India-bill, on the opening of the
charges against Hastings, and let him shew in
Burke that inferiority which only can be the
2
P
[433]
}
3
cause of envy. From the manner in which
Mr. McCormick expresses himself, it would ap-
pear, that it was parliamentary eloquence in
which Sheridan displayed such powers as to
mortify Burke. But could he be supposed to
be so ignorant of his own extraordinary ta
lents, às to be mortified by the exhibition of
very great talents in any one? If the percep-
tion of very great parliamentary abilities in
another was to fill the breast of Burke with jea-
lousy and rage, that cause must have existed
respecting another person of his own party
certainly as much as concerning Sheridan. No
man can admire the force and versatility of She-
ridan's genius more than I; but certain I am
that I do not under-rate it, when I think, that
a man could not envy his senatorial powers, who
would not envy those of Fox; and there is nei-
ther proof nor any allegation that Burke did
so. If literary talents were to excite the envy
of Burke, was there any man he knew in that
species of excellence superior to the Litchfield
sage? And there was never the smallest evi-
dence, nor, indeed, insinuation, that Burke
envied Johnson. Was there any thing in the
situation of Sheridan, that could corrode the
breast of Burke? Were situation to be always
proportionate to abilities, both were in a con-
dition much less exalted than their elevated ge-
nius-but Sheridan was not higher than Burke.
In the esteem of those whose opinion they
3 K
2
[434]
}
would both think the most valuable, was Sheri-
dan above Burke? Was he more highly praised
by the Duke of Portland, Earl Fitzwilliam, and
others of the highest rank of their friends; or
by Mr. Windham, Mr. Fox, and others of the
highest talents? In the opinion of the world
Sheridan did not stand higher. Thus, there
existed no cause which could render it probable
that Burke was actuated by such a passion.
Mr. McCormick brings no proof, from Burke's
words or actions, that he was envious of Sheri-
dan. Unsupported by proof, and contrary to
probability, this injurious charge against the
character of a most extraordinary personage
falls to the ground:-it is a charge that the
liberal and great mind of Sheridan himself
could not believe to be well founded.
>
The commercial treaty with France first oc-
cupied parliament during the succeeding ses-
sion. This treaty, believed to be the result of
the extensive information of Hawkesbury, the
acuteness and diplomatic knowledge of Eden,
ministering to the comprehensive genius of
Pitt, was considered in two relations,-commer-
cial and political. As to its mercantile arrange.
ments, it was the triumph of commercial philo-
sophy over usage, and of a general over partial
interest. It was a practical application of the
principles and demonstrations of Smith con-
cerning the reciprocal advantages, to skilful and
industrious nations, of a free trade. The dis-
EX
[ 435 ]
the real circumstances of the case, we shall find
cussions of the treaty, both in the House of Peers
and Commons, called forward the most import-
ant subjects of oeconomical science Its political
object was liberal and great,-it was to terminate
the animosities between Britain and France,
that had been productive of so great evils to
both. Whether it was or was not attainable,
it is now impossible to ascertain, as the circum-
stances are so totally changed. It was to its
political tendency that the principal opposition
was made. Fox endeavoured to shew, that
France still continued her plans of ambition,
although she varied her modes of execution.
While amusing us, he said, with commercial
connections, she was, by the increase of her ma-
rine, and her intrigues with foreign states,
preparing for political annoyance. This ground
was also taken by Burke. He had, at the com-
mencement of the American war, and on every
other occasion, endeavoured to impress on the.
house and nation the aspiring views of France,—
that the supremacy over Europe and its depen-
dencies was the object; that Britain was the
most formidable opponent to her aggrandize.
ment; that the humiliation of Britain was con-
sidered as the necessary, and, indeed, only
means of certainly accomplishing her ends;
that the animosity of rivalship inspirited the
operations of ambition; that the mutual action
and re-action of these principles had, on every
1
ག་ཟ
**
7
f
[436]
opportunity, manifested themselves. The doc-
trine he held before, the doctrine he held then,
the doctrine he held since, the doctrine he held
THE
always, was the same-Trust no friendly pro-
testations from France-France hates Britain;
France would subject Britain; FRANCE HAS THE
WILL TO CONQUER BRITAIN, BUT WANTS
POWER. LET US GUARD AGAINST INCREASING HER
POWER AND INFLUENCE, THROUGH SUPINENESS OR
CREDULITY, WHOSE INTENTIONS ARE SO MALIG-
NANT. A few months afforded a striking in-
stance, that while her professions were friendly,
her intentions were hostile; that she was em-
ploying every effort of policy to detach from
us our natural ally; and was preparing to second
her intrigues by force, when the vigour of the
British cabinet and the activity of Prussian
troops defeated her machinations.
In Mr. Pitt's motion for the consolidation of
the Customs Opposition unanimously acqui-
esced, and Burke bestowed on it very high
pràise.-
March 28, 1787, a motion was made for re-
pealing the Test-act. Although Burke had been,
-in 1772, favourable to a similar motion in be-
half of the Dissenters (though a motion not al-
together to the same extent) he did not support ❤
the repeal. His detractors charged him with in-
consistency for this conduct. But if we examine
*He withdrew from the house without voting.
r
1
£
[ 437 ຫຼື
no inconsistency in the support at one time,
disapprobation at another; and that both were
guided by liberal and sound policy. Indul-
gence to a part was wise and benevolent, when
not interfering with the good of the whole.
In 1772, there were among the Dissenters no
known principles inimical to our establishment.
Before 1787, principles unfavourable to the con-
stitution of our state had been published by
their leading men, and had been reprobated, as
was before shewn, by Burke; not only prin-
ciples, but designs hostile to our church esta
blishment had been avowed by a most dis-
tinguished person among them. They were
(Dr., Priestley informed the public, in a pam-
phlet) wisely placing, as it were, grain by
grain, a train of gunpowder, to which the match
would one day be laid to blow up the fabric of
error, which could never be again raised upon the
same foundation." This declaration by a MINER
was a sufficient reason and prudence for keep-
ing him and his connections at such a distance
from our fabric as to prevent the intended ex-
plosion.* From their recent conduct and de-
"
* The sanguineness of Priestley's temper here prevailed
over his wisdom. It was certainly very unwise to tell the
supporters of the church, who were, by far, the more power-
ful body, that he designed to subdue them; he could not
hope thereby to intimidate them to submission, but might
expect to put them on their guard. The loquacious exul-
}
[438]
clarations, Burke saw a danger in encouraging
the Dissenters, which he could not have seen at
a former period, because it did not exist.
Pitt, although he, from the philosophical en-
largement of an enlightened mind, had been
friendly to the Dissenters, when he considered
the differences between them and the church
as being merely about speculative points, yet,
when he saw proceedings intended to subvert
so important a part of our polity, thought cir-
cumspection and vigilance absolutely necessary.
When there was an avowed design to sap the
fortress, it became the duty of the garrison
to secure the out posts. Lord North, in op.
posing the appeal, besides the consideration
of general expediency, by which men of such
minds as Burke and Pitt are influenced in po-
litical conduct, had the additional motives of
particular notions. He was, though not a
bigotted, a strenuous high-churchman, had
uniformly opposed the Dissenters merely when
maintaining articles contrary to his belief, with-
tation of anticipated success is often a most powerful ob
stacle to its attainment. Conspiracies, that would have
eluded the penetration of wisdom, have been exposed by the
premature triumph of ringleaders and accomplices; no doubt
such exposure, though even by the most ingenious and learn-
ed man, is foolish. Hence we may learn how absurd their
reasoning is, who in any case infer innocence, merely because
the alledged operation of guilt would imply folly.
J
[.439 ]
out cherishing designs subversive to the con-
stitution which he supported.
As Lord North and Burke were both men
of great classical erudition, and very frequently
introduced quotations from ancient authors,
they sometimes had friendly disputes concern-
ing some of the passages. Burke had studied
ancient language merely as a vehicle of ancient
ideas. Lord North, besides studying it for the
purpose which general reason dictates, was
thoroughly acquainted with it in the way which
local usage prescribes: having been taught at
Eton, he was perfectly instructed in the metri
cal parts. One day, Burke having occasion to
use the Latin word vectigal, pronounced it vec-
tigal: Lord North told him it should be vectigal.
Burke proposed a bet of a guinea: Lord North
agreed, and of course gained. In the prosody
of the language, both the Scotch and Irish are,
no doubt, much inferior to the English; and
we hear mistakes as to quantity from some of
the ablest and most learned men among them
which an English boy would detect. I remem-
ber once to have heard some Latin conversa-
tion between a very respectable master of an
academy near London, esteemed among the
best scholars in the profession, and one of the
first literary Scotchmen of the age; both spoke
the language with fluency and propriety in
other respects, but the latter not in point of
prosody. It was with difficulty that the master
1
1
1
[ 440 ]
of the academy convinced the learned Doctor
that he was not erroneous in pronouncing con-
fĕro, confero. Although he has manifested him-
self to the world to be most intimately and pro-
foundly conversant in the history, character, ge-
nius, customs, manners, laws, and politics of the
Romans, yet was he inaccurate in their sounds;
although few men in England could equal him
writing sense prose, yet many boys might surpass
him in writing nonsense verses.
Little, except the impeachment of Hastings
engaged the political attention of Burke until
the time of the REGENCY.
To dwell upon the melancholy event that
rendered a plan of Regency necessary, would
be extremely absurd, indecorous, and unfeel-
ing. It, however, in the alarm during the ca-
lamity and the joy at the recovery of the per-
sonage whom' it had pleased Heaven to afflict,
manifested how highly he was prized by his
people.
On its being ascertained that a temporary
incapacity existed for exercising the functions
of government, Mr. Fox's idea was, that during
this incapacity there was virtually a demise of
the Crown; that therefore the next heir should
assume the powers of government whilst the
incapacity continued. Mr. Pitt's opinion was,
that in such a case it rested with parliament to
supply the deficiency, as in other circumstances
not before provided for by the existing laws,
#
}
[441]
J
Great ability was displayed on both sides; but
as the necessity for its exertion on that subject
soon ceased, I shall not enter into its details.
Much obloquy was attached to Burke on ac-
count of the violence of his conduct, and still
more, of his expressions. Impartial truth ob-
liges me to acknowledge that his language was
very intemperate; it was indeed so much so as
to excite the blame of his friends and associates,
In estimating character, however, we must
take THE WHOLE of action, not PART of expression.
Burke conceived that it was the intention of
Ministry to make the Regent dependent on a
party, of which they were the heads; and cer-
tainly displayed very extraordinary abilities in
opposing their plans, whether they were selfish
or patriotic. "There was (he said) a partition
of power, in which the Prince was destined to
have an official, a mere nominal character; while
all the places and real dignities, were given to
another. This partition was more odious and
offensive than the famous Partition Treaty, re-
lative to the succession, on the death of the last
Prince of the house of Austria. It was a par-
tition founded on the most wicked and mali-
cious principle: every thing that was degrad-
ing and restrictive, every thing that could stamp
suspicion and indignity on the Prince's charac
ter, was implied in what the bill withheld from
hịm; while, on the other hand, all that waş
3 L
[ 442 ]
graceful, all that was calculated to hold up a
character as great, as virtuous, and meritorious,
was given where an opposition was set up
to counteract the Executive Government."
Burke's intemperance in debate appeared, per-
haps, more during the Regency discussion than
at any other time. Once, when he was called to
order, he made the following reply: "Order is
an admirable thing, perfect in all its limbs,
only unfortunately it squints, and wants the
aid of some expert oculist to enable it to see
straight. I also wish to préserve the utmost
delicacy; but delicacy, though a being of per-
fect symmetry like the former, is only a subsi-
diary virtue, and ought always to give way to
truth, where the case was such; that the truth
was infinitely of more consequence than the
delicacy." Burke drew up the questions ad-
dressed to Mr. Gill, the Lord Mayor, contain-
ing very bitter invectives against Administra.
tion. He also wrote an answer to Mr. Pitt's
Jetter to the Prince of Wales. Indeed he, how-
ever reprehensible in the violence of his expres-
sions, displayed his talents during the Regency
bills fully as much as at any other period of
his life. The view he took of circumstances
and proceedings was great and comprehensive,
whether just or not; if there were too fre-
quently sallies of passion, there was always effu-
sion of genius.
1
[443]
}
રૈ
While the Regency was the subject of serious
consideration in parliament, it occasioned seve-
ral very humorous compositions out of doors. Of
these, the Regency Cauldron, in imitation of that
of Macbeth's witches, was the most distinguished.
So forcible, indeed, was its humour, and bril-
liant, its wit, that by many it was imputed either
to Courtenay or Sheridan. There were, indeed,
a number of very laughable and ingenious writ-
ings subsequent to the Rolliade and Birth-day
Odes; such as the Cabinet Stud, Royal-Recol-
lectious, and many others. On the side of Op-
position there was certainly greater versatility
and variety of powers than on the side of Mi-
nistry. For Administration there were exten-
sive knowledge, comprehensive understand-
ing, strong reasoning, masculine and dignified
eloquence; there were industry and practical
ability in the conduct of affairs. In the other
party, there were, besides the materials and
powers of serious reasoning and eloquence, the
materials and powers of sportive exhibitions.
From the one you could derive information
and instruction: from the other, information,
instruction, and entertainment.
In both you
met with the equals of Cicero and Demost-
henes. In the Minority you met with Con-
greve and Swift. Burke, who was one of the
wittiest of men himself, was also the cause of
wit in others, as "Simkins's Letters to his
Brother Simon in Wales" can testify.
}
1
$
1
[444]
3
i
Th
This versified attack on Burke's proceedings
against Hastings made its first appearance in
"The World," a fashionable paper of the day,
conducted by Edward Topham, Esq; the same
gentleman, I believe, who before undertook to an-
swer Burke's "Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol."
"The World" teemed with paragraphs, appa-
rently intended to be severe on the conduct of
the Managers of Hastings's trial, and especially
on Burke. The strictures on that subject, both
-in prose and verse, were usually very inferior
to "Simkins's Letters." The composition of
"The World" * was evidently that of a mind by
no means congenial, either in taste or genius, to
Burke's. It was not surprising that the author
of turgid phraseology and pompous inanity,
frivolous conceits and declamatory rant, should
disrelish beauty, sublimity, knowledge, and
philosophy.
k
Burke frequently spent a considerable part
of the recess either in visiting Ireland, or dif-
J
* About the same time that "The World" was so much
distinguished for sonorous trifles in prose, there was an in-
undation of verse of the same species, under the signature of
Della Crusca, Anna Matilda, Laura Maria, and others, of
whose writings the leading characteristics were reciprocity
of extravagant compliment, multiplicity of superfluous epi-
thet, and abundance of melodious nonsense. The vigorous
and severe satire of Gifford, by his Mæviad, either silenced
these versifiers, or gave their talents (such as they were) a
different direction.
[ 445 ]
t
ferent parts of this kingdom. Some years be.
fore the period of his life at which I am now
arrived (to the best of my recollection in 1785),
Mr. Windham and he took a jaunt to Scotland:
they rode their own horses, went by Edinburgh,
and proceeded northward to the Highlands.
Though Burke, like his friend Johnson, de.
lighted chiefly in the exhibition of the human
mind in its constitution and diversity of opera-
tions, he also was much delighted with external
appearances of nature. Passing through Athol,-
a district of Perthshire, watered by the Tay
and its tributary rivers, and abounding in pic-
turesque scenery, variegated from the verdant
sweetness of cultivated vallies, and of woods in-
terspersed with streams, and divided by a ma-
jestic river, to the bare rocks and heathy moun-
tains of the Grampians, they viewed Dunkeld
and Blair, seats of the Duke of Athol, by art
and nature wonderfully fitted to gratify a taste
for the BEAUTIFUL and SUBLIME. Coming to a
country inn, they were much struck with the
beauty and elegant manners of the landlord's
daughters. The father, they found, was a gen-
tleman, the representative of a respectable fami-
ly, but of small fortune; and that in order to
enable him to give his children a good educa-
tion, to supply the deficiency of his patrimony,
he had had recourse to industry. Mr. Burke
and Mr. Windham were very much pleased with
the conversation of the young ladies; and from
[446]
the first town they came to, sent them a copy
of Cecilia; a present at once a high compliment
to the taste of the young ladies and the genius
of the author; and which they prized very
highly, coming from such donors. One of
the Misses M'Laren (that was their name)
was soon married to a gentleman in the
neighbourhood. The younger, some years
after, married a medical gentleman who pro-
cured an appointment in India.
The fol-
lowing circumstance is said to have produced
the appointment and accelerated the marriage.
Mr. Dundas, riding from his hunting-seat in
Strathern, to visit the Duke of Athol at Blair,
stopped at the inn. Accosting Miss M'Laren
with his usual gallantry, and bestowing high
and just praises on her beauty, he said, "he
was surprised that, so fine a girl had not got a
husband." "Sir," replied she," my marriage
depends upon you." On me, how so?" " There
is," she answered, "a young gentleman,
whom I am under promise of marriage as
soon as circumstances will permit. He has
been in the shipping service of the East India
Company, and wishes to procure a settlement
in Bengal, as an intimate friend of his, Mr.
Dick, married to my eldest sister, is one of
the principal surgeons in Calcutta, and would
have it in his power very effectually to serve
him in his business." Mr. Dundas, having, on
inquiry, found that Mr. McNabb (the gentle,
to
1
*
[ 447 ]
man in question) was a man of merit and pro-
fessional skill, on his return to London sent
him permission to go to India. The marriage
was concluded: soon after they sailed; and are
now established at Patna.
Crossing the Tumel, where, near its conflu-
ence with the Tay, it forms the beautiful pe-
ninsula of Logerait, the travellers proceeded,
through Strath Tay, to Taymouth, the seat of
the Earl of Breadalbane, one of the grandest
scenes in the Highlands. Continuing their
route by the banks of Loch-Tay, towards Inve-
rary, they one evening came to an inn, near a
church yard: amusing themselves with reading
the inscriptions on the tomb-stones, they were
addressed by a gentleman in a clerical habit,
who, after some conversation, requested their
company to drink tea at the parsonage house.
They complied, engaging their host to return
with them to the inn to supper. They disco-
vered Dr. McIntire, the clergyman, to be a
man of much information, excellent sense, and
peculiarly conversant in the history and actual
state of the Highlands. They perceived also,
that he was well acquainted with the affairs of
India, where he had a son in a high situation.
Burke, who understood the Irish language,
spoke to Dr. M'Intire in that tongue. He was
answered in Erse; and they understood each
other in many instances, from the similarity of
these two dialects of the ancient Celtic. The
<
[ 448 ]
Doctor shewed him an Irish Bible, and inform-
ed him that there had been no translation of
the Scriptures into Erse till about twenty years
before that there was a version of the Testa-
ment published by the clergyman of the ad-
joining parish (through which the gentlemen
had passed) Mr. Stewart of Killin; and that
that gentleman, in conjunction with two of his
sons, and with the assistance of other clergy-
men,
of whom Dr. M'Intire himself was one,
was preparing a translation of the Old Testa-
nent.* Burke expected, and perceived, that
his host's notions concerning, both the authen-
ticity and merit of Ossian by no means co-
incided with the opinion which he himself had
formed. Burke, indeed, admitted that there
might be songs in the Erse descriptive of he-
roes and their actions, as there are in the Irish,
and in all languages; but denied that there was
any evidence to prove that a regular epic poem
had ever appeared in that tongue, and denied
* How far this work is now advanced I have not heard.
The chief conductor was Dr. Stewart of Luss, in Dumbar-
tonshire, son to the translator of the Testament. It may
have, perhaps, received interruption from the death of his
father and brother. It would be of peculiar advantage at
the present momentous season to have a translation of the
Bible into the Erse tongue, in order to counteract the ma-
lignant efforts of disseminators of infidelity, who have pub-
lished among the Highlanders versions of Paine's works,
and similar productions.
7
4493
also that the poems, asserted by Mr. Mâcpher-
son to be translated from it, in whatever lan
guage they had been originally composed, post
sessed that excellence which Scotch critics as
cribed to them. He thought that these, în
their strictures upon Ossian, were guided more
by national prejudice than by that vigorous in
vestigating genius by which they were gene
rally distinguished.
>
Mr. McCormick, in speaking of the trial of
Hastings, endeavours to shew that Burke made
a job of it for the benefit of his own particular
friends. That Burke exerted himself to servé
those whom he loved and regarded, no one will
deny. He procured for his brother, Richard;
the Collectorship of Grenada, during the first
administration of Lord Rockingham; and the
appointment of Secretary to the Treasury in
the last. When member for Bristol, his influ
ence got the Recordership of that city for his
brother also. Richard Burke was a man of very
considerable abilities: he was engaged in several
publications, and had even by some persons been
deemed one of the authors of Junius. Letters
that appeared in the Public Advertiser, signed
Valens, during the American war, were sup-
posed to be written by Richard, with the as-
sistance of William, who afterwards went tơ
India. Meanwhile Richard was studying law,
and was called to the bar the same year with
Mr. Erskine. He was acquiring reputation,
3 M
[450]
2
*
}
and was highly thought of by Lord Mansfield.
His rising character, and the opinion of that
eminent man, began to procure him consider-
able business, when he was appointed Secretary
to the Treasury. The duties of his new office
interrupted that close application to the law,
which might in time, have raised him to a high
rank in his profession. But, as from his accept-
ance of that employment, it was presumed that
political exertions more than juridical were
his object, after his loss of office he did not re-
cover his former business as a Counsellor.
Still, however, he was esteemed by professional
men as a lawyer of great knowledge and talents.
As such he was entitled to employment. On
the impeachment of Hastings he was, recom
mended by his brother to be one of the Coun-
sel. 7-Is a man blameable for endeavouring to
promote a person to an employment, for which
he is fit, because that person is his brother? If
he is, Burke deserves censure. Burke also pro-
posed Dr. Lawrence to be one of the Counsel-
lors. Dr. Lawrence had displayed great lite-
rary talents, both in humorous and serious
productions. In addition to his general talents,
he was known to be a man of professional in-
dustry and ability. Was it a reason, that a
person should not be proposed by another to
fill an office for which he was fit, because he
was the proposer's friend? If that was the case,
Burke was to blame. Speaking farther of the
+
[451]
Counsel in the prosecution of Hastings, Mr.
McCormick says, "Mr. Burke also took care to
introduce his own son into this profitable job, as
soon as he was called to the bar." The answer
to this assertion is very short:-Mr. Burke's
son was NOT introduced to this profitable job.
The proof that he was not is the RECORD OF THE
TRIAL.
Mr. McCormick mentions a report that
Burke was a marriage-broker, and received a
considerable sum of money for effecting an
union between the Earl of Inchiquin and Miss
Palmer, the niece and heiress of Sir Joshua
Reynolds. Although he declares his disbelief
of this rumour, he speaks of it in such a way
as tends rather to accredit it, to those, at least,
who should take assertion or insinuation for
proof. A report (if such a report existed,
which I do not know, as I never heard of it)
totally inconsistent with the character of its
subject, and supported by no evidence, requires
no discussion. Most of these reports and in-
sinuations are associated with the straitened
circumstances of Burke ; as if it were a neces-
sary consequence, that, because a man is not
rich, he will therefore be guilty of roguery.
Burke certainly was far from being attentive
to pecuniary concerns: although totally free
from the extravagance of profligacy, he was ha-
bitually liable to the waste of inattention. He
neither gamed, nor indulged in debauchery;
3
1
}
1
3
[ 452 ]
1
yet he spent a great deal of money, and was
often embarrassed. His great mind did not
value riches, which he saw could be acquired
by the meanest talents and qualities. Judging
rightly in not considering money as a con-
stituent of excellence, he acted wrongly in
not sufficiently valuing it as, an article of use.
As a wise man, thinking the possession of mo-
ney to be no proof of merit, he too much
neglected it as an instrument of convenience.
He had not a practical impression of the very
plain and obvious truth, that, though a weak
and ignorant man is not one whit less weak
and ignorant for his possessions, a wise and
learned man may render his wisdom and learn-
ing still more pleasing and useful to others, and
himself, with, than without a competent for-
tune; that although wealth ought not to add
to the importance of any individual with others
deriving no good from it, it is very comfortable
to the possessor. Besides, even if he had valued
money as much as prudence required, his gene-
rosity was so great, that it would most power-
fully have counteracted the effects of this valu-
ation. His detractors say that he did not 'pa-
tronize indigent merit: numberless instances
might be adduced to prove the contrary.
He
not only patronized merit, and sheltered it from
those attacks which it might otherwise " from
the unworthy take;
wherever he found it,
but he relieved distress
even although in objects
حمة
[ 453 ]
2
not peculiarly meritorious.. His political con-
nections, besides, led to very great expences,
both in his general mode of living and in spe-
cial contributions. There have been several
imputations of unjustifiable means used by him
to recruit his frequently exhausted finances;
but there is no evidence of either the truth of
such assertions, or the justness of such suspi-
cions. Wanting probability in his general cha-
racter, and proof as to particular acts, they will
be more or less readily believed by different
persons, according to their consciousness of
what they have done themselves, or conception
of what they would do in such a situation.
Occasional difficulties in his affairs did not pre-
vent his philosophic mind froin enjoying very
great happiness in the exercise of the kindest
affections to his friends and family. No man,
indeed, could be a warmer friend, a more indul,
gent master, a more affectionate father, and a
fonder husband; no one was, in all his actions,
more influenced by his private connections,
unless duty interfered.
His desire of extending the means of be-
neficial conduct made him bestow attention
on practical medicine, and he frequently made
up prescriptions. He once, in an attempt
of this sort, involved himself in very great
unhappiness for several hours. Mrs. Burke
haying been indisposed, her husband under-
took to make up a draught ordered by the
r
[ 454 ]
physician; but unfortunately mistaking one
phial for another, he gave her laudanum. The
mistake being immediately discovered by exa-
mining the other phial, efficacious antidotes were
applied; and the lady, after undergoing much
torture from the conflicting operation, to the
inexpressible terror and horror of her husband,
at length recovered.
and
Burke lost, in his eminent friend Sir Joshua
Reynolds, almost the last of the literary
convivial associates of his early years. Sir
Joshua had always regarded Burke as the first
of men, and was in turn loved, esteemed, and
respected by his illustrious friend. He had
assisted him when embarrassed, and, by his will,
after cancelling a bond for 20001. bequeathed
him 20001. more. The orator and painter were
so often together, and the fulness of Burke's
mind ran in such abundance, force, and clear-
ness, that Sir Joshua must have remembered
many of his ideas, and even expressions. At
the opening of the Royal Academy, Jan. 2, 1769,
Sir Joshua, the President, delivered a discourse
on the object of the institution and the princi-
ples of painting. At the annual distribution of
prizes, he also thereafter delivered an oration
on similar subjects. The ingenuity of the re-
flections, the extent of the knowledge, and the
elegance of the composition, made them sup-
posed by some to be the productions of genius
more exclusively devoted to literary efforts than
[ 455 ]
1
Sir Joshua's. They were, at one time, imputed
to Dr Johnson, Admitting the just and phi
losophical view exhibited by Mr. Courtenay
of the influence of that great man's intellectual.
exertions on literary composition, readers had
no evidence that he actually assisted the painter
in composing his essays. From his intercourse
with Johnson it was probable that he derived
knowledge and principles which may have been
transfused into his discourses. But neither tes-
timony, nor the internal evidence of the works
themselves, are in favour of the supposition that
they were written by Johnson. Mr. M'Cormick
thinks they must have been written by Burke;
and internal evidence is certainly much more
in favour of his hypothesis than of the former.
Burke was much more conversant in the fine
arts than his friend Johnson. But there is the
testimony of Mr. Malone, who had every op-
portunity, as the constant companion of Sir
Joshua, to be informed of the truth during Sir
Joshua's life and as his executor, from the
perusal of papers after his death, who had the
best means (if any one could have them) of not
being deceived himself, and could have no mo-
tive to deceive others, positively asserts that
they were the composition of Sir Joshua himself
Agreeing, therefore, in the probability, a prioriy
of Mr. McCormick's supposition, I think it òvèr-
turned in fact by the evidence of Mr. Malone.
Burke was one of the chief mourners at his
#
<
V
[436]
He
friend's funeral. An account of the procession
was drawn up by Mr. Burke and Mr. Malone.
The following sketch of his character, composed
by Burke, was also published. "His illness
was long, but borne with a mild and chearful
fortitude, without the, least mixture of any
thing irritable or querulous, agreeably to the
placid and even tenor of his whole life.
had, from the beginning of his malady, a dis
tinct view of his dissolution; and he contem-
plated it with that entire composure, which
nothing but the innocence, integrity, and uses
fulness of his life, and an unaffected submission
to the will of Providence, could bestow. In this
situation he had every consolation from family
tenderness, which his own kindness had, indeed,
well deserved.
*
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS was, indeed, on very
many accounts, one of the most memorable
men of his time. He was the first Englishman
who added the praise of the elegant arts to the
other glories of his country. In taste, in grace,
in facility, in happy invention, and in the rich-
ness and harmony of colouring, he was equal
to the great masters of the renowned ages. In
portrait he went far beyond them; for he com-
municated to that description of the art, in
which English artists are the most engaged, a
variety, a fancy, and a dignity, derived from
the higher branches, which even those, whơ
professed them in a superior manner, did not
1
鹭
​t
[457]
+
always préserve, when they delineated indivi
dual nature. His portraits remind the specta-
tor of the invention of History, and the ame-
nity of Landscape. In painting portraits, hế
appeared not to be raised upon that platform,
but to descend to it from a higher sphere. His
paintings illustrate his lessons, and his lessons
seem to be derived from his paintings.
"He possessed the theory as perfectly as the
practice of his art. To be such a painter, he
was a profound and penetrating philosopher.
"In full assurance of foreign and domestic
fame, admired by the expert in art and the
learned in science, courted by the great, ca-
ressed by sovereign powers, and celebrated by
distinguished poets, his native humility, mo-
desty, and candour never forsook him, even
on surprise or provocation; nor was the least
degree of arrogance or assumption visible to
the most scrutinizing eye, in any part of his
conduct or discourse.
"His talents of every kind, powerful from
nature, and not meanly cultivated by letters,
his social virtues in all the relations and all
the habitudes of life, rendered him the centre
of a very great and unparalleled variety of so-,
cieties, which will be dissipated by his death.
He had too much merit not to excite some jea-
lousy, too much innocence to provoke any en-
mity. The loss of no man of his time can be
3 N
}
7
}
5
1
3
}
1
[458]
felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed
sorrow." Perhaps the history of eloquence does
not afford a more masterly instance of pane-
gyric than this which I have just quoted; at
once general and appropriate, compressed and
complete; exhibiting, in a few words, the con-
stituents, operations, and effects of its subject's
characteristic excellence.
Not long before Burke was deprived of his
friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, another gentle.
man, who had once been very intimate with
him, endeavoured to renew their intercourse.
Mr. Gerrard Hamilton had always retained a
very warm regard for Mr. Burke. He fully
admitted his reasons for discontinuing their
political connection, and uniformly praised the
letter that Burke wrote on the occasion, as one
of the finest compositions he had ever perused.
He venerated the disinterestedness that had
resigned the pension. His admiration of the
talents of his late friend rose higher and
higher as they more fully unfolded themselves,
and many of his exhibitions he contemplated
with astonishment. When the abilities of Fox,
more exclusively parliamentary, raised him to
be the leader of Opposition, Hamilton said, "In
parliament only would Mr. Fox be the first
man; in parliament only would Mr. Burke NOT
be the first man." The discriminating mind
of Hamilton distinguished between that com-
bination of cognitive and active powers that fits
[459 ]
the possessor for leading men, and those intel.
lectual powers and attainments which fit the
possessor for delighting, informing, and in-
structing men; between a Themistocles and a
Sor ates; a Demosthenes and a Homer, a Cecil
and a Bacon. Hamilton did not enter much
into any of the political parties during the
American war, nor afterwards. He was, in-
deed, supposed to have been the author of some,
at least of one of the letters of Junius, from the
well known circumstance of his having, one
morning, very accurately discussed to a noble-
man the merits of a letter that he conceived to
be that day in the Public Advertiser, which he
had not then seen; and that it was found after-
wards that the insertion of the letter had been
that day neglected, but the next morning ap-
peared in it, and was exactly what he had de-
scribed. His knowledge of it, antecedent to
publication, proves that he either wrote it
himself, or had been informed of it by the
author. This inference, however, applies to
that letter only; and if he embraced any party,
he did not publicly embrace it with ardour.
As an impartial observer, he perceived the ten-
dency of measures more accurately than those
who were actively engaged. When Mr. Fox
brought forward his East-India bill, Hamilton
immediately saw that the project of admini-
stering the commercial and territorial affairs of
the Company by a junto, (however individually
7
1
[460]
respectable) appointed by the proposer, would
alarm the court, and turn the. supporters of
the bill out of office. He advised some of the
members of the coalition party to dissuade the
leaders from persisting in their plan. Mr. She-
ridan, Mr. Courtenay, and several other men
of high rank in the party, are understood to
have privately signified their apprehensions of
the consequences; and recommended to the
Ministers to leave the management of their
commercial concerns to the Company, as some
of the Directors had, on that condition, inti-
mated an acquiescence in the rest of the scheme.
The advice of Hamilton, and the representą-
tion of those members, had not the desired ef-
fect. The consequence was as Hamilton had
predicted. Soon after the Regency, he ex-
pressed an eager desire that Burke and he
should return to the footing of former times.
Mr. Courtenay, who was very intimate with
both, was one of those who signified to Burke
the wish of Hamilton. Burke said that there
were several circumstances which would render
it impossible for him to have the same pleasure
in the company of Hamilton that he had for-
merly felt; and that he thought, without that,
their meeting would not answer any purpose to
either. It does not appear that Burke meant
to throw any blame on Hamilton himself: but
their separation had caused much obloquy,
(though very unjustly) that made a great im.
}
•
[461]
pression on the sensibility of Burke, in so much
that though he knew it not to proceed, from
Hamilton, he could not help associating that
gentleman with a subject of uneasiness and dis-
pleasure...
I have carried the private history of Mr.
Burke somewhat farther than his public, as I
am now coming to a momentous subject of his
inquiry and portion of his conduct, the series
of which I did not wish to interrupt.
Soon after the close of the Regency delibera-
tion commenced the
FRENCH REVOLUTION,
To enable us to estimate the conduct and
reasoning of Burke respecting the French re-
volution, it is necessary to recall to our minds
the old government; the causes and operations
that produced and effected a change; the change
itself; the actual state of opinions, sentiments,
and affairs, after it had taken place. From the
consideration of these subjects only can it be
evinced, whether Burke's proceedings were or
were not conformable to wisdom and rectitude.
Subordinate to this general subject of discus-
sion is the more special inquiry, whether they
were or were not consonant to his former prin-
ciples and actions? The object of the first in-
quiry is THE INTEGRITY OF HIS INTELLECTUAL
AND MORAL EXERTIONS, relatively to most mo-
4
[462]
mentous concerns of a great portion, of man-
kind, whether his plans and counsels tended to
the melioration of the human race: of the se-
cond, whether he has been CONSISTENT WITH
HIMSELF. The criterion of the former is the
nature and tendency of the French revolution;
of the latter, his own antecedent principles, de-
clarations, and conduct.
The legitimate object of government is the ge-
neral good. That government is the best, which
produces,FROM PERMANENT CAUSES, the greatest
good, and least evil, to those within the sphere
of its operation. That this is the true test by
which to examine any system of polity, both in
its principles and practical effects, will, I be-
lieve, be very generally granted. If we weigh
the old government of France in this scale, it
will be conceded by every impartial man, that
it was deplorably wanting. Perfection, indeed,
is to be expected in no system formed by man;
but there are gradations of excellence in human
contrivances. There have been many plans of
polity, and there are several, in which the gene-
ral good has been and is much more steadily
and successfully pursued than under the old
government of France, which he would mis-
name, that should call it any thing else but a
despotism. Instead of making a part subser-
vient to the whole; of estimating either per-
manent regulations or temporary measures by
the aggregate of happiness they were calculated
[463]
to produce, the pleasure and caprice of a very
small part was the motive and rule for govern-
ing the whole. The comfort and welfare of
twenty millions was of no account when com-
pared with the freak or fancy of the despot,
the interest or inclination of his favourites, and
the instruments of his despotism. The sug-
gestion of a priest or a prostitute would deso-
late a province, and drive from the country its
most industrious inhabitants. In the earlier
ages, France had some semblance of a limited
constitution. The monarch himself had his
power sufficiently, and more than sufficiently,
restrained by the feudal aristocracy; but even
then, it was a liberty confined to individuals,
not extending to the community at large; ef-
fecting therefore partial superiority, and not
general benefit. The feudal aristocracy was
destroyed by Richelieu, and the separate des-
potisms consolidated into one entire mass. The
following picture of the state of the, people,
under such a government, though glowing, is
not exaggerated.
66
During 175 years (from, 1614 to 1789,)
France had been without even the appearance
of a voice in the direction of her own most
momentous concerns. Every thing was under
the controul of a government, that had no other
means for the support of its authority but cor-
ruption and cruelty. The people were studi-
ously depressed by ignorance, by poverty, and
*
'
[464]
**
}
extortion.
The men of wealth and distinction
were purchased either by the baubles of courtly
ostentation, or by a lavish waste of the public
revenue. They were rewarded with the most
iniquitous and incredible of all institutions, an
exemption in some sort from the duty of con-
tributing to that revenue, which was endea-
voured to be exclusively wrung from the grasp
of the poor, the weak, and the laborious. They
were prevailed upon to countenance, by being
admitted into a partnership of the use of arbi
trary imprisonment, punishment without an
accusation and without a hearing, and the con-
finement of the Bastile. In vain would the reader.
expect from us, in this place, the instructive dis.
play of all the multiplied engines of Gallic despo-
tism; the army of spies, perpetually employed
by government, and intruding themselves into
all the haunts of men; the mode of deciding ju
ridical questions, without pretending to submit
them to the sentiment of an impartial jury, with-
out confronting witnesses with each other or the
accused; nay, with the audacious and uncon-
trolled practice of the judge to admit the private
solicitations of the parties at issue. By the feu-
dal institutions that prevailed, the peasant was
rendered, like the ox, the mere property of his
superiors; and the tyranny of the lord was only
suspended and checked by the tyranny of the
officers of government, who dragged him from
his starving family to work in some corvée of .
[ 465]
3
public concern or of absurd magnificence,. or
to sell him the salt, respecting which he was
neither permitted to choose the time at which
he would purchase, nor the quantity he would
take."*
Such a state of government, such a situation
of the governed, was, no doubt, very inconsistent
with justice, and called loudly for a change.
Besides the badness of the government, other
causes, some more remote and general, some
more immediate and special, contributed to
prepare and excite the French to shake off the
yoke. Learning becoming daily more preva-
lent in Europe, and having been fostered in
France by the ostentatious vanity of Lewis XIV.
though limited, during his reign, to subjects of
taste and sentiment, or to physics, yet soon
extended to subjects of moral philosophy and
politics; discussions by no means favourable to
the theoretical approbation of such a govern-
ment as that of France, however prudence might
dictate a practical acquiescence. These specula-
tions took a more abstract and metaphysical
form than in countries where liberty was a prac-
tical benefit; probably, because at the time it
was impossible to have their practical effect ex-
perimentally ascertained. As learning, in gene,
3 0
New Annual Register for 1790, vòl. i. page 120.
[ 466 ]
ral, increased, these disquisitions in that meta-
physical node became common in France, but
hitherto only among scholars. Their connec-
tion with America afterwards disseminated prin-
ciples of freedom among the people in general.
The enormous expences incurred by her pro-
jects of aggrandizement, the profligacy of her
court, and the profusion of her ministers, had
thrown the finances of France into the greatest
embarrassment. The inferiority of the revenue
to the expenditure was such as to announce
approaching bankruptcy, unless most speedy,
means were employed to bring the expence
within the income. Calonne advised the call-
ing of the Notables The Notables found an
assembly of the States necessary. Calonne was
banished, Neckar was appointed Minister of
Finance Letters were issued for convoking
the States-general. The spirit of liberty be
coming more fervid from the heat of elections,
the action and re-action of opinion, sentiment,
and sympathy, the States assembled. It was
proposed by government that they should meet
in three different chambers, according to anci-
ent usage.
The people apprehended, that if
they were in separate bodies, the clergy and
nobility might controul the third estate; and as
they had resolved, not merely to make financial
regulations, but to procure the redress of grie-
vances, they conceived that the two privileged
orders, from dependence on the court, and for
3
་
"
A
[467]
the preservation of their own immunities, would
unite in over-ruling the popular voice. They
therefore insisted that the States general should
consist of one body only, and regulations be
established according to the majority of votes.
The Court refused the Third Estate persisted,
and met as a National Assembly, inviting the
nobles and clergy to join them as individual
members. The King ordered them to separate:
it was replied, "The Nation assembled has no
ORDERS to receive." Troops were summoned
by the Court to Paris, and surrounded the capi-
tal. The people of Paris took the side of the
national representatives; the army caught the
prevailing feelings, the Bastile was destroyed,
and the old government fell.
The notion, that a change from an oppressive
and corrupt system must be good, was a natu-
ral, but not necessarily a wise conclusion.
Emancipation from that despotism was or was
not a proper subject of rejoicing to the lovers
of mankind, according to the probability that
the effect would be well regulated liberty, order,
and happiness. Britons, in general were de
lighted with the overthrow of a fabric so
Every reader must remember the joy that pervaded all.
ranks in this country on hearing that the Third Estate had
carried its point, and even that the Bastile was destroyed.
I remember, some weeks before that period, I happened to
be at the little Theatre, when an actor, making some com-
·
}
[468]
contrary to that liberty which they themselves
enjoyed. This was a natural and a benevolent
pleasure; but as it is profoundly remarked in
the masterly investigation of Burke's "REGI-
CIDE PEACE" in the Monthly Review of No-
vember 1796, "The great danger to a virtuous
man arises from the excess of his virtuous pro-
pensities themselves. It is his duty to preserve,
with the most religious care, a just balance
among all the natural sentiments and moral
principles of his character; and to watch with
the utmost vigilance the first appearance of any
tendency to excess, in any single principle or
passion. He must never forget the maxim of
ancient wisdom, omnes virtutes mediocritate qua-
dam esse moderatas.' If he abandon himself to
the guidance of any single principle, it matters
not whether it be a zeal for the glory of God,
or for the salvation of men; for the quiet of
society, or for the establishment of liberty; for
Popery or Calvinism; for Monarchy or for
Democracy; it is sure equally to drown the
voice of reason, to silence the feelings of nature,
to dishonour his own character, and, (if he be
armed with power) to vex and scourge the
•
mon place observation, from the Trip to Margate, on the fri-
volity of the French, made the following addition, “ yet I
do admire them for their present efforts in favour of liberty.
›There was a loud clapping, and even huzzaing, from every
corner of the house, for near half an hour.
4
[469]
A
9
human race." The fove of liberty, a sentiment
in itself so noble, and so congenial to the feel-
ings of an Englishman, was so powerful as to
conquer other sentiments. Admiration of the
exertions which overthrew the despotism, ab-
sorbed horror for the outrages, and detestation
for the violence and injustice, which soon mark-
ed the proceedings of its subverters; and im-
peded the consideration of the tendency of the
new order of things. While many approved of
the French revolution as a triumph of liberty,
without attending closely to any of ITS DISTIN-
GUISHING FEATURES, some, from considering cer-
tain peculiar characteristics of it, which coin-
cided with their own notions, prized it the more.
Many, admiring the constitution of England,
conceived that the French revolution would
generate a government similar to that which
the English had ascertained. Some, whose
ideas of political establishments were formed
from their own abstractions, much more than
from experience, admired the French doc-
trines of the Rights of Man, which fell in
with their own ideas on the principles and
origin of CIVIL and POLITICAL LIBERTY. They
admired the French for declaring the equa-
lity of mankind, and making that principle
the basis of government, instead of modify-
ing it according to circumstances and expe-
diency. Others, considering less the SOURCES
of political right than the MODES of intellectual
น
[ 470 ]
process, commended the legislators of France,
- for taking, as they said, reason, instead of autho-
rity and example, for their guide. "It was time,"
(one very able writer remarked, and another
repeated) "that legislators, instead of that
narrow and dastardly coasting which never ven-
tures to lose sight of usage and precedent,
should, guided by the polarity of reason, ha-
zard a bolder navigation, and discover, in un-
explored regions, the treasure of public feli-
city." These were the views of men of much
more genius, speculative philosophy, and ge-
neral learning, than conversancy with practi-
cal affairs. While men of vigorous and syste-
matic understandings, habituated to specula-
tions, approved of processes of mind conform.
able to their own, men, whose classical erudi-
tion had a greater influence in forming their
opinions than experience and reason, and who
judged of political equity and wisdom more
from the practice of the ancient republics than
from general history and investigation of mind,
compared with the circumstances of the case,
admired what they conceived to be approaches
to the democratic spirit which they found
arrayed in so beautiful colours by their favou
rite orators and poets. Statesmen of high rank,
and the highest talents, venerating liberty in
general; presuming French liberty would ren-
der its votaries happy; imputing the aggres-
sions of France on this country and other na-
•
[ 471 ]
}
tions to the corrupt ambition of a court; and
anticipating tranquillity from her renovated
state, rejoiced at a change that foreboded peace
to Britain and to Europe. * The first avowed
censurers of the French revolution were men
whose talents and characters did not give much
authority to their opinions, and they had not
discovered strong arguments. The ablest nien
on the side of Administration abstained from
delivering any opinion concerning the internal
proceedings of a foreign state, that had not
then interfered with our's. Ability was chiefly
in
support of the change among our neighbours,
as far as opinions had been declared. While men
of generous sentiments in Britain favoured the li-
berty of France; while men of genius approved
of what they conceived consonant to their own
political theories, or habits of reasoning; while
sanguine statesmen prognosticated a new and
happy order of things to the nations whose in-
terests were the subjects of their thoughts, wis-
DOM attempted to correct the errors and re-
strain the excesses of benevolent sentiments,
to prevent the prevalence of partial theories,
to make not metaphysics, but experience the
guide to judgment; and to teach men, from
the whole circumstances of the case, what judg-
ment to form.
* See Fox's Speech on the Army Estimates, Feb. 1790.
?
}
}
[472]
1
Burke, as the friend of mankind, had repro-
bated the old despotism of France: although
he thought it in the reign of Lewis the Six-
teenth softened in its exercise by the progress
of civilization, and the personal character of
the monarch, still he deemed the welfare of the
people to rest on an unstable basis, and to re-
quire very considerable reform before it could
be a good government. But esteeming arbi-
trary power a great evil, he knew that unwise
efforts to shake it off might produce greater
calamities. Respecting the spirit of liberty, as,
when well directed and regulated, a means of
human happiness, his respect for it in every in-
dividual case was proportionate to its probable
tendency to produce that end, where he had
not actual experience to ascertain its effects.
From principle and habit, guided by EXPERIENCE
in his judgments and conduct, he considered
liberty as a matter of moral enjoyment, and
not of metaphysical disquisition. It was not
merely the possession of it that constituted it a
blessing, but the possession of it in such a de-
gree, and with such regulations, as could make
it subsidiary to virtue and happiness, without
being able to produce vice and misery. Its
operation as a bles ing or a curse depended, he
thought, partly on its intrinsic nature, partly
on the character of its subjects, and partly on
more extrinsic causes. He uniformly contro-
verted those doctrines of the Rights of Man,
[ 473 ]
រ
which would allow the same degree of liberty
to all persons and in all circumstances. Like
Livy, he did not think a horde of barbarians
equally fitted for the contests of freedom, as
men in a more advanced state of knowledge
and civilization. Neither did he conceive that
every one state, though refined, was equally fit
for the beneficial exercise of liberty, as every
other state not more refined. The controul,
he thought, must be strong in the direct ratio
of passion, as well as the inverse of knowledge
and reason. "I DO NOT (he said) REJOICE TO
HEAR THAT MEN MAY DO WHAT THEY PLease,
UNLESS I KNOW WHAT IT PLEASES THEM TO DO."
And in another place, " SOCIETY CANNOT EXIST
UNLESS A CONTROULING POWER UPON WILL AND
APPETITE BE PLACED SOMEWHERE; AND THE LESS
OF IT THERE IS WITHIN, THE MORE THERE MUST BE
WITHOUT. IT IS ORDAINED IN THE ETERNAL CON-
STITUTION OF THINGS, THAT MEN OF INTEMPERATE
MINDS CANNOT BE FRee. THEIR PASSIONS
FORGE THEIR FETTERS.
In considering the French revolution, his
expansive mind did not view parts only, but
the WHOLE. Had his consideration of it been
partial, his sensibility might have been grati-
fied by the emancipation of millions: but a sa-
gacity, as penetrating as his views were com-
prehensive, had discovered to him the nature
of those principles which guided the revolu-
tionists, as well as the characters on which they
3.P
J
1
1
[ 474 ]
1
were operating. The notions of liberty that
were cherished by the French philosophy he
knew to be speculative and visionary, and in
no country to be reducible to salutary prac.
tice that they proposed much less restraint
than was necessary to govern any community
of men, however small, such as men are known
from experience to be: he knew also that the
volatile, impetuous, and violent character of
the French required, in so great a nation, much
closer restraints than that of many other states.
Infused into their liberty was another ingre
dient, which tended to make it much worse
than it would have been in itself. From the
same philosophy from which they had derived
their extravagant notions of freedom, they also
received infidelity. Burke had, many years
before, predicted that their joint operation, un-
less steadily guarded against, would overturn
civil and religious establishments, and destroy
all social order. This was the opinion which he
had maintained of infidelity and speculative
politics in general, in his Vindication of Natural
Society, and in his Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol;
and of French infidelity and speculative poli-
tics in particular, in his speech after returning
from France in 1773, and in all his speeches and
writings, whenever the occasion required his
admonition. With religion he foresaw that
morals would fall; and that instead of the old
arbitrary government, which he thought might
J
}
475
A
?
1
have been IMPROVED into a limited monarchy,
at once combining religion, liberty, ord r,
and virtue, a compound of impiety, anarchy,
and wickedness would be substituted. The
composition of the National Assembly, the de
gradation of the nobility, the abolition of the
orders, the confiscation of the property of the
church, and many other acts, tended to con-
firm the opinion which he had formed. Much
as he detested the outrages, he execrated the
principles more; foreseeing, that in their una-
voidable operation they would lead to much
greater enormities. In the principles and de-
tails of the new constitution he did not expect
either happiness, or even permanent existence.
Uniformly inimical to metaphysics, as the in-
strument of intellect in planning conduct, * he,
CONSISTENTLY WITH HIMSELF, reprobated the
speculative doctrine of the Rights of Man.
Conceiving that the end of government, the
good of the community, was, as appeared from
experience, best attained when power was en-
trusted to talents, virtue, and property, † he
disapproved of a system which permitted its
* See his Speeches on American Taxation, on Conciliation
with America, on allowing the Colonies to tax themselves by
Representatives; Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, and in his
works, passim.
4
+ Thoughts on the Discontents; in his speeches and writ-
ings, passim.
3
[ 476 ]
exercise TO ALL MEN EQUALLY, without any con-
sideration of their fitness., CONSISTENTLY WITH
HIMSELF he reprobated such a disposal of
power.
1
J
The vicinity of France to England made him
apprehensive lest the speculations of that
country should make their way into this, and
produce attempts against a constitution founded
upon observation and experience, not upon vi-
sionary theories. The approbation manifested
by many in this country, both of the principles
and proceedings of the French revolutionists,
increased his apprehension, and he took the
first proper opportunity of endeavouring ta
point out the danger of encouraging the Gallic
notions. An occasion offered itself, at the dis-
cussion of the Army Estimates for the year
1790.
Adverting to the revolution in France, Fox
considered that event as a reason for render-
ing a smaller military establishment, neces-
sary on our part. "The new form," he said,
that the government of France was likely to
assume would, he was persuaded, make her a
better neighbour, and less propense to hostility,
than when she was subject to the cabal and in-
trigues of ambitious and interested statesmen."
The opinion, that the new order in France was
likely to produce more happiness to the inhabi
tants and more tranquillity to adjoining states,
especially to this country, seems to have been one
[
[ 477 ]
(
of the principal causes that rendered this phi-
Janthrophic and patriotic personage favourable
to the French revolution. The anticipation of
happiness to the French themselves seems to
have arisen from the attention of his great mind
being turned more to the general effects of liber-
ty than to the contemplation of the particular
characters of its new votaries; and to the prin-
ciples and views of its most active supporters,
as manifested in their declarations and conduct.
The anticipation of tranquillity to other states,
from the prevalence of freedom in France, even
had there been nothing peculiar in the nature
of that freedom and the habits and dispositions
of its votaries, seems to have arisen more from
theory than from the actual review of the his-
tory of free countries. Had the comprehensive
and full mind of Fox called before him his own
extensive knowledge of the actions of mankind,
he would have immediately perceived that free
nations have been as propense to hostility as the
subjects of an arbitrary Prince; and, as he him-
self will readily admit, to much more effect,
because with nruch more energy. The reason-
ings of the great orator seem to be, on this sub-
juct, derived from abstract principles much
more than expérience. This was, indeed, the
case with Mr. Sheridan and other eminent men
friendly to the French revolution.
Y
༤
Burke soon after delivered his sentiments on
the subject: entertaining the very highest opi-
[ 478 J
•
nion of the genius and wisdom of his friend,
he expressed his anxiety lest the approbation
of the French by a man to whose authority so
much weight was due, should be misunder-
stood to hold up the transactions in that country
as a fit object of our imitation. After express-
ing his thorough conviction that nothing could
be farther from the intentions of so able and
uniformly patriotic a champion of the British
constitution, he entered upon the merits of his
arguments, and of the question from which they
had arisen. Fully coinciding with Fox respecting
the evils of the old despotism, and the dangers
that accrued from it to this country, and concern-
ing the wisdom of our ancestors in preventing
its contagion, as well as their vigour in resist-
ing its ambitious projects, he thought very dif-
ferently of the tranquillity to neighbours and
happiness to themselves, likely to ensue from
the late proceedings of France. "In the last
age (he said) we had been in danger of being
entangled, by the example of France, in the net
of relentless despotism. Our present danger,
from the model of a people whose character
knew no medium, was that of being led, through
an admiration of successful fraud and violence,
to imitate the excesses of an irrational, unprin-
cipled, proscribing, confiscating, plundering,
ferocious, bloody, and tyrannical democracy."
The ardent sensibility of Burke's mind often
transported him, as I have repeatedly remark-
賣
​1
[479]
ed, into very, violent expressions. Impartial
investigators, however, of his conduct will at-
tend less to incidental warmth of language than
to the series of opinion, relatively to its grounds;
and of action, relatively to its causes and cir-
cumstances.
The more completely we examine Burke's
intellectual operations and political exertions
in detail, and the more full and accurate our
induction of their principles is, the more clearly
shall we see that his arguments and proceed-
ings on the French revolution were on the
same broad grounds as in the former parts of
his life. I do not hesitate to say, that the very
same process of understanding produced op-
position to the ministerial plans respecting
America and his reprobation of the French
principle of legislation; and I refer to his chief
writings and speeches on both for the proof of
my assertion. His reasoning during the Ame-
rican contest was this:-You have derived great
benefit from the colonies under the constitution
by which they have been heretofore managed:
in attempting to establish a different constitu-
tion, you are neither sure of the practicability
nor of the effect.
His reasoning on the principle of the French
revolution was:-They have before them a ba-
lance of estates, a controul of powers, into which
their own, after the Assembly of the States gene-
ral, might have been easily modelled, and from
*
}
*
[ 480 ]
which a great share of actual liberty and hap
piness has been derived. BE GUIDED BY EXPE-
RIENCE, AND NOT BY UNTRIED THEORIES, He was
apprehensive of the consequences of the French
system to the constitution of England. As in
his Vindication of Natural Society, he had shewn
the probable effects of the false philosophy of
Bolingbroke; and on his return from France,
of that of Helvetius, Voltaire, and Rousseau, to
social order; he had, in his Letter to the Sheriffs
of Bristol, animadverted on the political specu.
lations then disseminated in this country, and
had reprobated the reasoning of men, who
pursued the same object with himself, because
they argued from ideal notions of the Rights of
Man. He had perceived the notions spreading,
not only among those who had talents and
learning for such disquisitions, * but into clubs
and societies, of which many of the members
could not be competent judges of metaphysics,
and might be led by, wild and misunderstood
theories to the most speculatively erroneous
and practically hurtful opinions and sentiments
concerning the constitution of this country.
He argued from the same ratiocinative princi-
ple respecting this country, that he had done
in the case of America, and was doing in the
case of France:-TRUST NOT UNTRIED SPECULA.
+
* Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley.
C481
TIONS: ADHERE TO THE LESSONS OF EXPÉRIENCE.
This was the corner-stone of his political reason-
Íng. ´HE, AT THAT VERY EARLY STAGE OF IT, WITH
SÁGAĈITY ALMOST PROPHETIC, DISCOVERED, in its
operations, principles, and spirit, a tendency
to THOSE VERY EFFECTS NOW KNOWN TO EUROPE
BY DIREFUL EXPERIENCE: "" They laid the axe
to the root of property. They made and re-
corded a sort of institute and digest of anarchy,
called the Rights of Man. Their conduct was
marked by a savage and unfeeling barbarity.
They had no other system than a determination
to destroy all order, subvert all arrangement,
and reduce every rank and description of men
to one lével. Their signal of attack was the
warwhoop; their liberty was licentiousness;
and-their religion was atheism." Burke con-
cluded this first public discussion on the French
revolution with a very high and just eulogium
on the genius and dispositions of his friend Fox.
It was in reply to this speech that Fox, after
expressing his esteem and veneration for Burke,
declared, "that if he were to put all the politi-
cal information that he had gained from books,
all that he had learned from science, or that the
knowledge of the world and its affairs had
taught him, into one scale; and the improve-
ment he had derived from Mr. Burke's conver-
sation and instruction into the other; the latter
would preponderate." Still, however, he could
not agree with the opinion of his friend respect-
3Q
}
*
1
1
-
[ 482 ]
攀
​ing the French revolution, at which he rejoiced,
as an emancipation from despotism. He de-
clared himself as much an enemy to democra-
tical despotism, as to those of aristocracy or
monarchy; but he did not apprehend that the
new constitution of France would degenerate
into tyranny of any sort.
"He was (he said)
a friend only to a mixed government like our
own, in which, if the aristocracy, or indeed
any of the three branches, were destroyed, the
good effects of the whole, and the happiness de-
rived under it, would, in his mind, be at an
end.".
Sheridan expressed his disapprobation of the
remarks and reasonings of Burke on this sub-
ject much more strongly than Fox had done.
He thought them, he said, quite inconsistent
with the general principles and conduct of so
constant and powerful a friend of liberty; and
one who so highly valued the British govern-
ment and revolution. Indignation and abhor-
rence of the revolution in France he thought
not consonant with the admiration of that of
England. Detesting the cruelties that had
been committed, he imputed them to the natu
ral resentment of a populaçe for long suffered
and long felt oppression. He praised the Na-
tional Assembly as the dispensers of good to
their own country and other nations. "The
National Assembly (he said) had exerted a
firmness and perseverance, hitherto unexam-
[483]
pled, that had secured the liberty of France,
and indicated the cause of mankind. What
action of theirs authorised the appellation of a
bloody, ferocious, and tyrannical democracy ?"
Burke perceiving Sheridan's view of affairs in
France to be totally different from his, dis-
approving particularly of the opinion, that
there was a resemblance between the principles
of the revolutions in France and in England,
and thinking his friend's construction of his ob-
servations uncandid, declared, that Mr. Sheri-
dan and he were from that moment separated
for ever in politics. "Mr. Sheridan (he said)
has sacrificed my friendship in exchange for the
applause of clubs and associations: I assure
him he will find the acquisition too insignificant
to be worth the price at which it is purchased."
With a mind, from such a range of know-
ledge, and such powers of investigation and
induction, so principled, as he possessed;
Burke had, from the beginning, betaken him-
self to consider the series of the French pro
ceedings; and to procure from every quarter
such information as could enable him to under-
stand the several parts, and comprehend the
whole. The accurate Editor of his Posthu-
mous Works informs us, that he desired all
persons of his acquaintance, who were going
to Paris (and curiosity attracted many) to
bring him whatever they could collect, of the
greatest circulation, both on the one side and
484 -]
}
+
the other. He had also many correspondents,
not only among the English and Americans re-
siding there, but also among the natives, to
whom, as well as to other foreiguers, he had
always done the honours of this country, as far
as his means would permit him, with liberal hos-
pitality. Among others, he received letters, en-
deavouring to trick out the events of the revo-
lution in the most gaudy colouring, from Mr.
Paine, Mr Christie, and Baron Cloots, after-
wards better known by the name of Anachar-
sis. It was in answer to a letter of this kind,
from a French gent'eman, that he wrote his ce
lebrated" Reflexions."
་་
*
The sentiments and opinions declared in the
House of Commons by Messrs. Fox and Sheri-
dan induced Burke "to enlarge his Reflexions
from the first sketch," and more closely to
contemplate its probable influence on British
minds. Dr. Price's Sermon, preached some
months before, and then published, appeared
to him to contain principles very different
from those which had established and preserved
our constitution; and to praise certain parts of
the French proceedings on grounds which, if
admitted in this country; he thought would tend
to overturn the existing polity. He now,-
therefore, viewed the French system not only
as likely to affect those inmediately within the
sphere of its operation, but as likely to be held
up by its votaries and admirers as a model for
"
[485]
this country. "Farther additions (as his Edi-
tor tells us) were successively made, as the
French proceedings and plans more completely
unfolded their principles and spirit." The work
was published in October, 1790,
$
A subject more momentous than that which
now occupied this extraordinary mind cannot
well be conceived,-whether a total political
change in the situation of twenty-five millions
of men was likely to produce happiness or mi-
sery to themselves, and to other nations? Such
an inquiry was made by a man who grasped eve-
ry important subject of his thoughts in all its
relations, comprehended the detail of acts, the
existing situations, the display of characters, the
established measures of judgment and principles
of action, intellectual processes and moral rules.
These were the GRAND PREMISES from which he
undertook to deduce his conclusion, that the
French revolution was, and would be, an enor.
mous evil to mankind. The ingenious and
profound author of the Vindicia Gallica, who
seems to have made the operations of intellect a
peculiar study, speaking of experience, ob.
serves that there is an experience of case, and
an experience of principle. Both these com-
bined to form the ground work of Burke's rea-
soning. He considered the particular proceed.
ings of the French revolutionists: from com.
paring the variety of particulars, he endea-
youred to ascertain their general character;
&
ว
! ་
เป
[486]
and also to investigate the causes both of the
proceedings and the character. In this pro
cess of things, history or the experience of fact
was the guide which he endeavoured to follow.
He was completely master of pneumatology,
perfectly acquainted with the constitution and
operations of the understanding and affections;
knew what directions of them were or were
not favourable to the accomplishment of their
best ends the discovery of truth, the promo-
tion of virtue, and the performance of duty.
He investigated the principles of reasoning and
of morality which guided the heads and hearts
of the revolutionists. In this he rose to expe-
rience of law or the philosophy of mind. So.
licitous about the happiness of France, but still.
more anxious about the happiness of Britain, he
takes the new system into consideration, as it
affects the one, and may affect both. In the
principles of political reasoning, in the canons.
of philosophy, admitted by the revolutionists,
there appeared to him a fundamental defect so
important, that no superstructure, raised on
such a basis, could stand. This was, in all
public concerns, THE TOTAL REJECTION OF EXPE-
RIENCE AS A GUIDE TO JUDGMENT AND TO CON-
DUCT. In all regulations for the public good,
they commit the whole to the mercy of untried
speculations: they abandon the dearest inte-
rests of the public to loose theories: they
despise experience, as the wisdom of unlet
tered men." Thoroughly acquainted with
f
!
1
487]
"
civil and political history, viewing cause and
effect in the modes of reasoning, of conduct,
and of government which he had contem-
plated, he conceived that, in expecting extrava-
gant and absurd inferences, wild and noxious
conduct, from THE REJECTION OF EXPERIENCE,
he DREW A JUST CONCLUSION. Habituated him-
self to take experience for his guide in po-
litical disquisitions; he at least, in doing so,
proceeded CONSISTENTLY. It was not only
the adoption in general of untried specula-
tion which he thought pernicious, but the
individual speculation which they substituted
for experience. "They have the rights of man.
Against these there can be no proscription,
against these no agreement is binding; these
admit no temperament and no compromise;
any thing withheld from their full demand is
so much of fraud and injustice. The objec-
tions of these speculatists, if its forms do not
quadrate with their theories, are as valid against
an old and beneficent government as against
the most violent tyranny and the greatest usur-
pation." This idea of the rights of man, Burke
saw, arose partly from confusion of terms, and
partly from erroneous speculation. If it was
pretended that all men have an equal right to
govern, the answer to this is, that government
is a matter of convention, an agreement for
the purpose of obtaining a specific end, the
aggregate advantage of the parties.
« Prior
1
ir
2
ww
3
[ 488 ]
to convention, (says the profound inquirer into
"the Principles of Moral and Political Science**)
every one has a right to govern himself, but not
to. govern any one else. THE GOVERNMENT OF
OTHERS, then, prior to convention, is NOT MATTER
OF RIGHT TO ANY ONE, although to have govern-
ment, and this purged of every person inca-
pable or unworthy of the trust, is MATTER OF
EXPEDIENCE to every one." The right is the
creature of expediency, in every individual
case; and in general classes, it is right that they
should govern who are most fit for answering
the end of government, the promotion of the
general good of the conventional society. All
men are not equally fit for governing it is,
therefore, not equally right that all men should
govern. Rejecting the rights of man, as in
that abstract unqualified form, and applicable
to every possible case, the foundation of just
government; he delivers his sentiments on the
real rights of men, as ascertained by the prin-
ciples and circumstances of civil society.
shall quote this part of the work at considerable
length, as itcollects into one whole his opinions,
reasonings, and principles, concerning the
foundation, rights, and duties of legitimate
government.
1
I
"Far am I from denying in theory; full as
Vol. ii. p. 471, on the exercise of legislative power.
1
1
[489]
1
far is my heart from withholding in prátice,
(if I were of power to give or to withhold) the
real rights of men. In denying their false
claims of right, I do not mean to injure those
which are real, and such as their pretended
rights would totally destroy. If civil society be
made for the advantage of man, all the advan-
tages for which it is made become his right; it
is an institution of beneficence, and law itself
is only beneficence acting by rule. Men have a
right to live by that rule; they have a right to
justice as between their fellows, whether their
fellows are in politic function or in ordinary
occupation. They have a right to the fruits of
their industry, and to the means of making
their industry fruitful. They have a right to
"the acquisitions of their parents; to the nourish-
´ment and improvement of their offspring; to
instruction in life and consolation in death.
Whatever each man can separately do without
trespassing upon others, he has a right to do
- for himself; and he has a right to a fair portion
of all which society, with all its combinations
of skill and force, can do in his favour. In this
partnership all men have equal rights, but not
to equal things. He that has but five shillings
in the partnership has as good a right to it as he
that has five hundred has to his larger propor-
tion; but he has not a right to an equal dividend
in the product of the joint estate; and as to the
3 R
會
​{
{
1
!
:
[490]
sl are of power, authority, and direction which
each individual ought to have in the manage-
ment of the state, that I must deny to be
amongst the direct original rights of man in
civil society; for I have in my contemplation
the civil social man, and no other. It is a thing
to be settled by convention.
"If civil society be the offspring of conven-
tion, that convention must be its law. That
convention must limit and modify all the de-
scriptions of constitution which are formed
under it. Every sort of legislative, judicial, or
executory power, are its creatures. They can
have no being in any other state of things; and
how can any man claim, under the conventions
of civil society, rights which do not so much
as suppose its existence?
"Government is not made in virtue of natu-
ral rights, which may and do exist in total inde-
pendence of it; and exist in much greater clear-
ness, and in a much greater degree of abstract
perfection: but their abstract perfection is their
practical defect. By having a right to every
thing, they want every thing. Government is a
contrivance of human wisdom to provide for hu-
man wants. Men have a right that these wants
should be provided for by this wisdom. Among
these wants is to be reckoned the want, out of
civil society, of a sufficient restraint upon their
passions. Society requires not only that the
passions of individuals should be subjected, but
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}
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[491]
$
that, even in the mass and body as well as in the
individuals, the inclinations of men should fre-
quently be thwarted, their will controlled, and
their passions brought into subjection. This
can only be done by a power out of themselves;
and not, in the exercise of its function, subject
to that will and to those passions which it is its
office to bridle and to subdue. In this sense
the restraints on men, as well as their liberties,
are to be reckoned among their rights. But
as the liberties and the restrictions vary
with times and circumstances, and admit of
infinite modifications, they cannot be settled
upon any abstract rule; and nothing is so
foolish as to discuss them upon that prin-
ciple."
+
In this passage, containing what may be
called the POLITICAL CREED OF EDMUND BURKE,
we might refer to those who have most minutely
studied and completely comprehended his an-
tecedent works, whether there is in it any sen-
timent or expression INCONSISTENT with his for-
mer opinions. To the contemplators of the
British constitution it may be referred, to de-
termine whether there be any thing in Burke's
articles of political faith contrary to its prin-
ciples and regulations. To those conversant
in the consideration of the principles of govern-
ment in general we may apply, to point out
what there is in these notions CONTRARY TO A
3
1
"[
J
[492 ]
WELL REGULATED LIBERTY; to a polity adapted to
the promotion of the general good. Assertions,
that his publication in general, or any series of
arguments in it, were inimical either to the civil
rights of man, or to the British constitution,
are mere empty sounds until established by
proof.
Guided by the same experience, which rested
government upon expediency instead of ab-
stract rights, he inquires into those principles
which tend most powerfully to promote its ob
ject; the security and happiness of the com.
munity. To controul the workings of passion,
he, from his acquaintance with the mind of man,
and with the actions of men in domestic, social,
civil, and political relations, had formed a con,
clusion that there was not so powerful a check-
as religion. Religion, he knew, had, in all ages
and countries, in proportion to its being well
understood and followed, tended to soften bar.
barism, restrain wickedness, meliorate the affec-
tions, and promote happiness. A principle of
so beneficial operation, he considered it to be
the indispensable duty of lawgivers to en-
courage; and from the experienced proportion
of happiness to the proportion in which it ex-
isted in individuals or societies, he inferred,
that wherever that principle was wanting the
consequence would be misery. From the
sources of the French revolution, into which
•
}
I 493 ]
A
great draughts of infidelity had been studiously
infused; he had anticipated the prevalence of
irreligion. From contemplating the actual
conduct of the revolutionists, he found that
what he had expected had come to pass,—that
impiety prevailed, almost to atheism. From
their want of religion he augured ill of their
future virtue and happiness. I do not say that
Burke reasoned rightly in this case; but that
this was the process of his reasoning. If any
one will prove, from history and the consti-
tution of human nature, that either individuals
or nations may do as well without religion as
with it, then it must be conceded that Burke
was wrong in his general principle. If it can
be proved, in contradiction to what Burke
and many others have asserted concerning
their irreligion, that the French revolutionists
were very religious men, then must it be al-
lowed that he was wrong as to fact.
.}
P
1
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Considering religion as the most weighty
counterpoise to violent or vicious passion, he
infers, that it is most necessary in those go-
vernments in which passion is most likely to
prevail. In Eastern despotisms, where the vi-
cious passions of a few individuals, for want of
political restraint, would be apt to reign with-
out controul, the salutary effects of religious
restraint are manifest. Under governments in
which the people have a large share of the power,
he thought that there must be a great aggregate
}
[494]
of violent passion, and therefore a proportion-
able quantity of religion even politically neces.
sary. Convinced of the utility, and indeed the
necessity of religion to the well-being of a state,
he considered such means as were subsidiary to
it as proper to be inculcated. These, reasoning
in his usual way of practical. wisdom, he, con-
cluded to be indefinable in any abstract propo
sition, and that they must be accommodated to
particular circumstances, degrees of knowledge,
and habits of thinking. Religion, he consider-
ed as cherished by national establishments,
which should be on the whole judiciously con-
stituted, even though liable to some objections.
The effects of religion, supported by an eccle-
siastical establishment accommodated to differ-
ent conditions and circumstances of men, hẹ
illustrates from the state of England, as an ex-
ample which the French,, by the correction of
their own orders, might have followed; and
a warning to the English by what to abide :
and perhaps in no writings is there to be
found a more philosophical and profound view,
though, like all useful philosophy, simple and
intelligible, of the effects of different gradations
of spiritual teachers to different ranks in so-
ciety. "The people of England (he said)
know how little influence the teachers of reli-
gion are likely to have with the wealthy and
powerful of long standing; and how much less
with the newly fortunate, if they appear in a
1
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[495]
:
:
manner no way assorted to those with whom
they must associate, and over whom they must
even exercise, in some cases, something like
an authority. What must they think of that
body of teachers, if they see it in no part above
the establishment of their domestic servants?
If the poverty were voluntary, there might be
some difference. Strong instances of self-de-
nial operate powerfully on our minds; and a
man who has no wants has obtained great free-
dom and firmness, and even dignity. But as
the mass of any description of men are but
men, and their poverty cannot be voluntary,
that disrespect which attends upon all lay po-
`verty, will not depart from the ecclesiastical.
Our provident constitution has therefore taken
care that those who are to instruct presump
tuous ignorance, those who are to be censors
over insolent vice, should neither incur their
contempt, nor live upon their alms; nor will it
tempt the rich to a neglect of the true medicine
of their minds." This was the reasoning of
expanded and practical wisdom, considering
not what might be necessary for men, if they
thought and acted always according to rea-
son, (such men experienced wisdom does not.
know) but for men with the infirmities, imper-
fections, and erroneous criteria of judgment,
which are generally found in life. He does not
assert that religion is abstractly and intrinsi-
cally better for being impressed by persons of a
3
}
1
son.
[ 496 ]
"C
certain external appearance and situation, but
that it is more impressive on certain ranks on
account of these adventitious circumstances;
and that therefore the gradation is useful. Re.
ligion, he concludes, has been and is a most be-
neficial sentiment, even when mixed with some
ingredients not in the abstract consonant to rea-
Sentiments and principles of every sort
partake of the cast and character of the mind in
which they exist. Superstition (he says) is
⚫ the religion of feeble minds." He therefore
would regulate it, rather than proscribe it; and
disapproves of the violent proceedings of the
French against men, merely because they were
superstitious. To a disregard for religion he
imputes the confiscation of the church lands;
because, if it had been from the necessity of
the state, there could be no reason for a general
seizure of the property of any class of indivi-
duals; the want ought to be supplied by an
equal contribution from all. Taking the re-
ports of the popular Minister as his docu-
ments, he does not admit that the necessity
did exist. A partial proscription, either where
there was no want, or a want affecting the
members of the state generally, he imputed
to a dislike of the proscribed class. Besides its
actual injustice, he saw that the degradation of
the clergy consequent on this seizure of their
property would, in the natural course of senti-
ments, lessen the influence of their instructions,
À
".
[497]
:
by making them considered as mere hirelings of
the state. This reduction of the clergy, com-
bining with the known sentiments of the philo.
sophers, whose writings had been so instrumen-
tal to the revolution, he deduced from a design
to abolish the Christian religion. It seems to
me (he said) that this new ecclesiastical estab-
lishment is intended only to be temporary,
and preparatory to the utter abolition, under
any of its forms, of the Christian religion, when-
ever the minds of men are prepared for this last
stroke against it, by the accomplishment of the
plan for bringing its ministers into universal
contempt." The confiscation of church proper-
ty is imputed by Burke to a design formed
by the French men of letters to abolish the
Christian religion. The literary cabal,” he
says, "had, some years ago, formed something
like a regular plan for the destruction of the
Christian religion. This object they pursued
with a degree of zeal which hitherto had been
discovered only in the propagators of some
system of piety. What was not to be done
towards their great end, by any direct or im-
mediate act, might be wrought by a longer pro-
cess, through the medium of opinion. To com-
mand that opinion, the first step is to establish
à dominion over those who direct it. They con-
trived to possess themselves, with great method
and perseverance, of all the avenues to literary
fame. Many of them indeed stood high in the
ན་
3 s
༣
[498]
*
ranks of literature and science. These atheistical
fathers have a bigotry of their own; and they
have learnt to talk against monks with the spi-
rit of a monk. But in some things they are
men of the world. The resources of intrigue
are called in to supply the defects of argument
and wit. To their system of literary monopoly
was joined an unremitting industry to blacken
and discredit, in every way and by every means,
all those who did not hold to their faction. To
those who have observed the spirit of their con-
duct, it has long been clear that nothing was
wanted but the power of carrying the intole-
rance of the tongue and of the pen into a prose-
cution which would strike at property, liberty,
and life." Whether Voltaire, and other philo.
sophers and literary men of France, intended to
overturn the Christian religion, their writings
and conduct had evidently that tendency; and
where there is, in the conduct of men of talents
or even men of common understanding, a di-
rect and constant tendency to any object, in-
tention may be very fairly inferred. After
investigating the intellectual and moral prin-
ciples by which the French were directed, esti-
mating, from history and the constitution of
the human mind, their tendency, and shewing
their effects in the proscription of property
without any evidence of delinquency, he pro.
ceeds to the policy of the new French govern-
ment in its provisions for strength and security..
[499]
•
He considers the organization of the new legis-
lative, executive, judicial, military, and finan-
cial establishments adopted by the National
Assembly, and finding the same predilection
for untried theory in their principle, the same
inconsistency and inefficiency in their details,
infers that they will neither be permanent, nor
answer their purpose while they last.
Thus did Burke, reasoning from EXPERIENCE,
an experience comprising the particular state
and proceedings of France, the history of man-
kind, and the constitution, moral and intellec-
tual, of the human mind, conclude that a revo-
lution, in its acts and principles so contrary to
the lessons of that great beneficial TEACHER,
would produce, as it was then producing, dis-
order, injustice, and misery. When it shall be
proved that his deductions from particular fact,
general history, and the philosophy of mind, are
not justified by the premises, then it must be
conceded that his REFLEXIONS on the Revolution
of France were ill founded. When it shall be
established that mankind or individual men, dis-
regarding religion and property, in their moral
estimates, and experience, in their intellectual
conclusions, have attained order, virtue, and
happiness, then may it be proved that Burke's
reasoning was false and sophistical. But until
that theory be confirmed by a legitimate induc-
tion, the REFLEXIONS OF BURKE, Grounded on
EXPERIENCE, MUST BE ADMITTED TO BE JUST, -
1
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1
3
[ 500 }
From the event, indeed, we might almost ascribe
to him the GIFT OF PROPHECY. He has certainly
displayed that degree of divination which arises
from a thorough knowledge of the nature and
relations of man, and that can from causes an-
ticipate effects. If we examine what Burke
said would be the consequence, and compare it
with what is the actual state of affairs, we may at
least confidently assert that he has not been mis-
taken: we may even affirm that his predictions
have not exaggerated the irreligion, anarchy,
tyranny, and injustice which they anticipated,
Such a system as Burke conceives to exist,
and likely to exist, in France, producing and
and likely to produce fatal effects, he natu-
rally reprobated as a model for the imitation
of England. He thought it incumbent on him
to dwell on this subject, as a disposition had
been manifested to assimilate the French re-
volution of 1789 to the English of 1688. Dr.
Price had, at the anniversary of our revolu
tion, advanced, on the great event comme-
morated, concerning the tenure of the Crown,
and other subjects of British polity, princi-
ples which Burke thought dangerous, espe-
cially when combined with not merely an
approval of the French revolution, but an ex-
ulting joy at the degradation of the Monarch and
privileged orders, and an address of congratu
lation sent to the National Assembly, on the
overthrow of their monarchical government.
i.
}
[ 301 3
Burke maintains, that one of the principal
sources of the happiness which the British na-
tion enjoys under its present constitution, is its
habitual and general adherence to the dictates
of experience; the practical avoidance of great
innovations. In his illustration of this just and
salutary doctrine, he, it must be owned, goes
somewhat farther in the instance of the rights
asserted at the revolution than history altoge-
ther justifies, or indeed the great objects of his
work required. The arguments which he ad-
duced, fully established that the French revo-
lution did not tend to the good of its votaries,
even when compared with their own old despo-
tism; much more, that it was not a model for
Britain to follow. It was, therefore, unneces
sary to inquire what was the RIGHT of Britain,
in any supposeable case, when it was obvious-
what was EXPEDIENT in the existing state of
things. This subject leads him to the question
of resistance, in which he shows himself a mo-
derate, wise Whig! "The revolution of 1688,"
he says,
" was obtained by a just war; the
only case in which any war, and much more a
civil war, can be just,-necessity.
The ques-
tion (of resistance) is (like all other questions
of state) a question of dispositions, and of
means and probable consequences, rather than
of positive rights. As it was not made for
common abuses, so it is not to be agitated by
common minds. The superlative line of de.
s
[.502]
1
}
?
of
marcation, where obedience ought to end,
and resistance must begin, is faint, obscure,
and not easily defineable. It is not a single
act, or a single event, which determines it.
Government must be abused and deranged in-
deed, before it can be thought of, and the pro-
spect of the future must be as bad as the expe-
rience of the past. When things are in that
lamentable condition, the nature of the disease
is to indicate the remedy to those whom nature
has qualified to administer, in extremities, this
critical, ambiguous, bitter potion to a distem.
pered state. Times, and occasions, and provo-
cations, will teach their own lessons. The wise
will determine from the gravity of the case;
the irritable from sensibility to oppressive,
the high-minded, from disdain and indignation
at abusive, power in unworthy hands; the brave
and bold, from the love of honourable danger
in a generous cause: but with or without
right, a revolution will be the very last re-
source of the thinking and the good.".
I have hitherto, in considering the REELEX-
IONS, attended only to its ratiocinative scope,
and have endeavoured to estimate its character
as an eviction of truth, an exertion of reasoning,
and an operation of wisdom. As a display of
genius it equals any production of the age, even
any of Burke's own. "Arguments (to use the
words of by far the ablest of his literary oppo-
nents) every where dexterous and specious,
*
[503]
sometimes grave and profound, cloathed in the
most rich and various imagery, and aided by
the most pathetic and picturesque description,
speak the opulence and the powers of that
mind, of which age has neither dimmed the
discernment nor enfeebled the fancy, neither
repressed the ardour, nor narrowed the range."
His subject is as extensive as political sci-
ence-his allusions and excursions reach almost
every region of human knowledge." A most
perspicacious critic gives the following striking
account and just description of the ornamental
portion of the publication. * "In his orna-
ment he is rich to profusion. His metaphors
are drawn from every object in the creation,
diyine and human, natural and artificial, an-
cient and modern, recondite and familiar, sub-
lime and grovelling, gross and refined. He
ranges from the angels of heaven, to the furies
of hell; from the aeronaut, soaring above the
clouds in his balloon, to the mole, nuzzling
and burying himself in his mother earth; from
the living grasshopper of the field, and from
the cuckow of the air, to the stuffed birds and
the dead mummy of the Museum; from the
wild orgies of Thrace, to the savage proces-
sions of Onondaga; from the organic moleculæ
&
1
* Monthly Review for November, 1790, p. 314, on
Burke's. Reflexions,
1
[304]
of the metaphysician, to the scales, weights,
and ledger of the shopkeeper; from the kettle
of the magician, and the dark science of the
hermetic adept, to the porridge-pot of the scul-
lion, and the pickling and preserving know-
ledge of the experienced cook; from the decent
drapery, furnished from the wardrobe of a mo-
ral imagination, to the huge full-bottomed per-
riwig of a bedizened monarch; from the purity
and delicacy of a Roman matron, to the filth
and nastiness of a village pig-stye; from the
sweet fragrance emitted by the bloom of a
young, lovely, and beautiful female, in the
morning of her days decorating the horizon of
life, to the foul stench exhaling from the men-
tal blotches and running sores of an old, rot-
ten, ulcerated, aristocrat." To antecedent and
consequent, wit, humour, beauty, sublimity;
and pathos, lend an aid not wanted for eviction
of truth, but adding delight, admiration, and
astonishment to instruction and wisdom. To
collect instances of these excellencies is easy,
the difficulty in such abundance would be the
selection:-
* Copia judicium, sæpe morata meum ést.
Perhaps there will not be found a happier in
stance of contemptuous exhibition than in the
following passage, in which he warns his cor-
respondent not to judge, from certain republi-
can publications, of the opinions and senti-
ments generally prevalent in England. "The
{
{
[505]
vanity, restlessness, petulance, and spirit of
intrigue of several petty cabals, who attempt
to hide their total want of consequence in bus-
tle and noise, and puffing, and mutual quota-
tion of each other, makes you imagine that
our contemptuous neglect of their abilities is a
mark of general acquiescence in their opinions.
No such thing, I assure you. Because half a
dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the field
ring with their importunate chink, whilst thou-
sands of great cattle, reposed beneath the sha-
dow of the British oak, chew the cud, and are
silent, pray do not imagine that those who
make the noise are the ONLY INHABITANTS of the
field; that of course, they are many in number;
or that, after all, they are other than the little,
shrivelled, meagre, hopping, though loud and
troublesome insects of the hour." *
The description of the exulting joy displayed
by an eminent Dissenter on the humiliation of
the King of France, and the fall of the monar-
chy (a joy reasonable, if a rationally free and
happy constitution appeared likely to result
from the overthrow of despotism, but prema-
ture and groundless as the case actually stood)
shews a force of comic humour, a brilliancy
of witty allusion, a poignancy of satirical insi-
nuation, seldom exceeded, or, indeed, equalled
3 T
*Reflexions, p. 126-7.
A
[306]
by any writer whose comic powers have been
the exclusive sources of his fame.
"This inspires a juvenile warmth through
his whole frame.. His enthusiasm kindles as he
advances; and when he arrives at his 'perora-
tion, it is in a full blaze. Then viewing, from
the pisgah of his pulpit, the free, moral, happy,
flourishing, and glorious state of France, as in
a bird-eye landscape of a promised land, he
breaks out into the following rapture:-
• What an eventful period is this! I am
thankful that I have lived to it; I could almost say,
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. I have lived to
see a diffusion of knowledge, which has under-
mined superstition and error. I have lived to
see the rights of men better understood than
ever; and nations panting for liberty which
seemed to have lost the idea of it. I have lived
to see thirty millions of people, indignant and re-
solute, spurning at slavery, and demanding li-
berty with an irresistible voice. Their King led
in triumph, and an arbitrary Monarch surrendering
himself to his subjects,'
}
"Before I proceed further, I have to remark,
that Dr Price seems rather to over-value the
great acquisitions of light which he has obtain-`
ed and diffused in this age. The last century
appears to me to have been quite as much en-
lightened. It had, though in a different place,
a triumph as memorable as that of Dr. Price,
!
1
Ľ 507 9
and some of the great preachers of that period
partook of it as eagerly as he has done in the tri-
umph of France. On the trial of the Rev. Hugh
Peters for high treason, it was deposed, that
when King Charles was brought to London for
his trial, the apostle of liberty in that day con-
ducted the triumph. I saw,' says the witness,
his Majesty in the coach with six horses, and
Peters riding before the King triumphing.' Dr.
Price, when he talks as if he had made a disco-
very, only follows a precedent; for, after the
commencement of the King's trial, this precur-
sor, the same Dr. Peters, concluding a long
prayer at the royal chapel at Whitehall, (he
had very triumphantly chosen his place) said,
I have prayed and preached these twenty
years; and now I may say with old Simeon,
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.' * " Peters
had not the fruits of his prayer; for he neither
departed so soon as he wished, nor in peace.
He became (what I heartily hope none of his
followers may be in this country) himself a sa-
crifice to the triumph which he led as Pontiff.”
Often as it has been quoted, I cannot refrain
from repeating the citation of that passage in
which a most charming woman is described by
the pen of taste and sensibility; a sensibility
State trials, vol, ii. p. 360, 363:
1
!
[ 508 ]
raised to the highest pitch by the misfortunes
of its object.
"It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I
saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness,
at Versailles; and surely never lighted on this
orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more
delightful vision. I saw her just above the ho-
rizon, decorating and cheering the elevated-
sphere she just began to move in,-glittering
like the morning-star, full of life, and splen-
dour, and joy. Oh! what a revolution! and
what an heart must I have, to contemplate
without emotion that elevation and that fall!
Little did I dream that, when she added titles.
of veneration to those of enthusiastic, distant,
respectful love, she should ever be obliged
to carry the sharp' antidote against disgrace
concealed in that bosom; little did I dream
that I should have lived to see such disasters
fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a
nation of men of honour and of cavaliers. I
thought ten thousand swords must have leaped
from their scabbards to avenge even a look that
threatened her with insult.-But the age of chi-
valry is gone.”
The same all-grasping genius exhibits most
striking examples of the pathetic, the terrible,
the sublime. The following few lines appear
to be the dictates of a prophetic spirit, at least
of that prophetic spirit which marks his reason- ·
ing in general on the French revolution, as it
[509 ]
1
did on the American war; the prescience which
arises from wisdom contemplating objects in
in all their circumstances and relations, and
from cause inferring effect. Speaking of the
French republic:-" In the present (form) it
can hardly remain ; but before its final settle-
ment, it may be obliged to pass, as one of our
poets says, through great varieties of untried
being, and in all its transmigrations, to be.
purified by fire and blood." One who had not
read Burke would think that such a description
had proceeded from the actual survey of the
violent and multiplied vicissitudes and revolu-
tions of the French government, and its per-
nicious and bloody consequences to the civi
lized world, and not from anticipation.
son.
Impartiality obliges me to acknowledge that
in some subordinate parts of the REFLEXIONS,
Burke's imagination and feelings have carried
him beyond the bounds of cool reflecting rea-
His account of the virtues of the French
noblesse appears exaggerated, at least as far as
can be judged from the samples of them that
we have had occasion to see in this country.
The same observation will, on the whole, ap-
ply also to their clergy, concerning whom the
experience of this country can hardly justify an
opinion, that they were very learned or able men
as a body, although as such they are decent and
inoffensive, and so far respectable. The exag-
geration, however, of the imputed merit does
t
D
}
ི་
510 J
not affect the justness of the argument. Men
ought not to have been degraded merely be-
cause, as a class, they were neither distinguish-
ed for eminent wisdom or virtue, if, with a me-
diocrity of abilities and good dispositions, they
could by certain regulations be made useful in
their former rank, of which experience might
shew the probability. There have been, and
are, in free and well constituted governments,
classes not distinguished by qualities of the
head or heart, beyond classes somewhat lower,
the aggregate of whose power, exertions, and
influence, has a beneficial effect on the commu.
nity at large. With regard to the clergy, their
use as a body must be, and was great, even
with their ordinary attainments. Policy, there-
fore, required that they should be preserved in
that situation of respect in which their use
could have been the greatest; and justice re-
quired that there should be no confiscation
where there was no delinquency. It was not
necessary to magnify the characters of the
French noblesse and clergy as a warning to
England. Educated in a free country, with
every spur to the exercise of unprejudiced
reason, our nobility were much superior as a
BODY to those of France, (however contemptible
some individuals may be) as from various causes,
national and professional, are the clergy of
Britain AS A BODY to those under the old go.
vernment of France.
&
[ 511 ]
But though there may be too high colouring
in some portions of this extraordinary perfor-
mance, where is there to be met a work which
so completely unfolded the principles of thought
and action that guided and prompted the
French revolutionists, which so accurately, mi-
nutely, and fully predicted the consequences of
such theory and practice, as BURKE'S REFLEXIONS
ON THE REVOLUTION OF FRANCE?
When this production made its appearance,
it was by all celebrated as the effort of uncom-
mon genius, although very different notions
were entertained concerning its reasoning. By
those who were enamoured of the French li
berty, without considering its peculiar nature, ad-
juncts, and effects, the book was abused as a defence
of arbitrary institutions. By those who are averse
to untried theories, and resolve to adhere to esta
blishments on the whole good, it was praised as
the ablest vindication of the constitution, which
experience, a surer guide than hypothesis, taught
them to revere, and prompted them to love.
The first public tribute of gratitude and praise
bestowed upon it came from a very respectable
and important part of our national establish-
ment,—THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. Many mem-
bers of that learned body considering Burke's
performance as not only an admirable work of
genius, but as a treasure of valuable principles,
the most momentous to the friends of English
liberty, loyalty, virtue, and religion, proposed
气
​[312]
1
that the university should confer the degree of
LL.D. on its illustrious author. The following
account of the proceedings on that subject are
extracted from the Gentleman's Magazine for
February 1791:
"Mr. Urban, I have always thought it a va-
luable circumstance in your Magazine, that it
has been from its commencement a register of
the current literature of the times. From such
original documents of the progress or variation
in the public opinion respecting religion, taste,
and politics, are collected the most interesting
materials of literary history. I conceived,
therefore, that whatever tends to mark the
public opinion of a work so valuable, on so many
accounts, as Mr. Burke's " Reflexions," would
be acceptable to you. I have sent you the Ox-
ford address to Mr. Burke, on the publication
of his "Reflexions," together with Mr. Burke's
You are probably aware, that the
Masters who signed the address, proposed to
the heads of houses, that a diploma degree of
LL. D. might be conferred on Burke; and
that the proposal was rejected, from an appre-
hension, as it has been said, that the degree
would not have met with the unanimous votes of
the members of convocation. However that
might be, the degree was certainly not opposed
by the heads of houses, from any disaffection
to the cause which Mr. Burke had so nobly and
patriotically defended. It was rejected by seven
answer.
[ 613 ]-
heads against six.
of the rest of the
dress will speak.
For much the greater part
university the following ad
ADDRESS FROM THE RESIDENT GRADUATES IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.
"TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDMUND BURKE,
"We whose names are subscribed, resident
graduates in the university of Oxford, request
you to accept this respectful declaration of our
sentiments, as a tribute which we are desirous
of paying to splendid talents employed in the
advancement of public good. We think it fit
and becoming the friends of our church and
state, to avow openly their obligations to those
who distinguish themselves in the support of
our approved establishments; and we judge it
to be our especial duty to do this in seasons
peculiarly marked by a spirit of rash and dan-
gerous innovation. As members of an univer-
sity, whose institutions embrace every useful
and ornamental part of learning, we should
esteem ourselves justified in making this ad.
dress, if we had only to offer you our thanks
for the valuable accession which the stock of
our national literature has received by the pub-
lication of your important " Reflexions." But
we have higher objects of consideration, and
nobler motives to gratitude: we are persuad-
ed, that we consult the real and permanent
3 U
I
1
}
{
[414]
1
interests of this place, when we acknowledge
the eminent service rendered, both to our civil
and religious constitution, by your able and
disinterested vindication of their true prin-
ciples; and we obey the yet more sacred obli-
gation to promote the cause of religion and mo-
rality, when we give this proof, that we honour.
the advocate by whom they are so eloquently
and effectually defended."
This address was conveyed to Mr. Burke by
Mr. Windham, of Norfolk; through whom Mr.
Burke returned his answer:
MR. BURKE'S LETTER TO MR. WINDHAM.
MY DEAR SIR,
"The valuable present I received from the
resident graduates in the university of Oxford,
becomes doubly acceptable by passing through
your hands. Gentlemen so eminent for science,
erudition, and virtue, and who possess the un-
common art of doing kind things in the kindest
manner, would naturally choose a person quali-
fied like themselves to convey their favours and
distinctions to those whom they are inclined to
honour. Be pleased to assure those learned
gentlemen, that I am beyond measure happy in
finding my we'l meant endeavours well received
by them; and I think my satisfaction does not
arise from motives merely selfish, because their
declared approbation must be of the greatest
importance in giving an effect (which without
+
t
2
1
Ab
sis]
that sanction might well be wanting) to an
humble attempt in favour of the cause of free-
dom, virtue, and order, united. This cause it
is our common wish and our common interest
to maintain; and it can hardly be maintained
without securing on a solid foundation, and
preserving in an uncorrupted purity, the
noble establishments which the wisdom of our
ancestors has formed, for giving permanency to
those blessings which they have left to us as our
best inheritance. We have all a concern in
maintaining them all: but if all those, who are.
more particularly engaged in some of those esta-
blishments, and who have a peculiar trust in
maintaining them, were wholly to decline all
marks of their concurrence in opinion, it might
give occasion to malicious people to suggest
doubts, whether the representation I had given
was really expressive of the sentiments of the
people on those subjects. I am obliged to those
gentlemen for having removed the ground of
those doubts.
I have the honour to be, &c.
EDMUND BURKE."
Of those who, from talents and knowledge,
were competent judges of literary and political
discussions, the Ministry and their friends, the
greater number of the nobility and landed
gentry, a considerable portion of monied men,
some of the leaders of Opposition, most of the
members of the universities, most of the clergy,
+
[316]
most gentlemen of the navy and army, a few of
the professed men of letters, rather the smaller
part of two of the learned professions, admir-
ers of the constitution, for its experienced bless.
ings, conceived the highest opinion of the rea-
soning and wisdom of Burke's book. Of those
who were NOT competent judges, great numbers
praised it upon trust:-common courtiers, house-
hold troops, underlings of office, and many
other servants or retainers of Government
whose employment and situation did not require
ability and learning, admirers of royalty merely
for its trappings and appendages; the greater
number of persons of fashion, their dependants,
and imitators; in short, such as were the mere
parrots of the informed and wise.
On the other hand,-of men of talents and
knowledge, who, though they admired the ex-
ecution, condemned the tendency of the RE-
FLEXIONS, there were those of high speculative
notions of liberty; the majority of Burke's for-
mer associates, the very ablest of them in the
House of Commons, and some of the ablest in
the House of Peers; the greater number of
professed men of letters, who, from their habits
of metaphysical disquisitions, often followed
theory more than experience; men of the par-
tial erudition which Grecian and Roman litera-
ture bestows, who formed their opinions more.
from particular models than general principles.
and history; many of the legal and medical,
7
[517]
professions, a few of the clergy, a few of the
nobility and gentry, a greater portion of the
monied interest than of the landed, dissenting
preachers, philosophical deists. Of those whe
were NOT competent judges, great numbers con-
demned Burke's REFLEXIONS upon trust:—re-
tainers of Opposition, understrappers of letters,
implicit believers of infidelity, inferior trades-
men and mechanics, debating-society orators,
revolution club-men, declaimers at public meet-
ings,-in short, also, merè parrots of learning
and ingenuity.
The first answer to Burke came from the able
pen of Dr. Priestley. A considerable part of
this publication was a vindication of Dr. Price's
opinion concerning the source and tenure of
monarchical power in England: the rest is on
the happy effects to be expected from the glo.
rious principles of the French revolution, from
which Priestley forbodes the enlargement of li
berty, the melioration of society, the increase
of virtue and of happiness. As Priestley neither
shewed, from history nor from the constitution
of the human mind, that these principles, in their
usual operation and consequence, tended to pro.
duce all those blessings, it is the less surprising
that the event was so totally contrary to his
predictions.
But the answer to Burke, which produced the
most important effects in these kingdoms, was
the "RIGHTS OF MAN," by the noted Thomas
1
$18
Paine. Perhaps there never was a writer who
more completely attained the art of impressing
vulgar and undistinguishing minds. The plain
perspicuity of his language, the force of his ex-
pressions, the directness of his efforts, wore so
much the appearance of clear and strong rea.
soning (to those that judge from männer more
than matter) that numbers, borne down by his
bold assertions, supposed themselves convinced
by his arguments.
The substance of his doctrine was peculiarly
pleasing to the lower ranks. When mechanics
and peasants were told that they were as fit for
governing the country as any man in parlià-
ment, the notion flattered their vanity, pride,
and ambition. While he had for the ignorant
these notions of equality,*"so agreeable to the
populace," he had additional charms, in meta-
physical distinctions and definitions, to delight
the half-learned with the idea, that when they
were repeating his words, they were pouring
forth philosophy. For them he had imprescript-
ible rights, organization, general will, attaint
upon principle; and many other phrases, from
which his votaries thought themselves as much
instructed as the under Grave digger in Hamlet
supposed himself from the learned distinctions
}
* See an instance of the same kind in Hume's History of
the Reign of Richard II. speaking of John Ball.
[ 519 ]
of the upper. This mode of procedure it would
be very unjust to impute to the want of powers
of evincing truth, wherever truth was his ob-
ject. He had, certainly, in his Crisis" and
"Common Sense" displayed most penetrating
acuteness and great force of argument. It was
not from weakness that he reasoned upon as-
sumptions, nor from confusion of ideas that he
made unintelligible definitions: it was from
dexterous art, and a versatility of genius, ac-
commodating itself to diversity of objects and
persons, but adapting itself peculiarly to those
classes who would believe themselves convinced
when they were only persuaded. It would be
foreign to the purpose of this work to enter
into the detail of Paine's " Rights of Man."
-
The amount of his theory is this: That no
government is just, which is not actually, and
has not been historically and originally, founded
on what he calls the Rights of Man. He applies
this general principle to existing governments,
and finding that none of them are reconcileable
to his notions of natural equality and the rights
of man, except that of America and the new
constitution of France, he proposes that all
others shall be pulled down; but first, and
especially, what we call the Constitution, and
he the usurpation, of England. England ex-
hibits a polity by no means conformáble to the
ideas of Thomas Paine. France he considers
as approaching nearer to consummate perfec-
$
[ 620 ]
In
tion than America. One of the chief evils, con,
trary to this natural equality and rights of man,
was the existence of artificial distinctions; such
as rank, title, and corporate bodies. To level
all distinction and rank, was one indispensable
ingredient in every system established on these
grounds. The inequalities subsisted to a great
degree in Britain, as appeared from the King,
the House of Peers, the House of Commons, the
universities, and the accumulation of estates
through the absurd rule of hereditary succession.
He inveighs against a mixed government, as an
unjust controul on the operation of the general
will, and contrary to the rights of man.
France, great advances had been made in
the levelling system, and greater were likely
to be made therefore England was a very bad
government, and France a very good one, and
likely to be still better. The English govern-
ment, consequently, ought to be pulled down,
and to be rebuilt upon the French model.
Another reason for pulling down the English
system was, that between seven and eight hun-
dred years ago it had been conquered. This de-
fect in its origin was an argument paramount to
expediency from its present state. Mr. Thomas
Paine has not proved from history, that govern-
ments, founded on these levelling principles,
have been conducive to the purposes of good
establishments-the happiness of society: he
has not proved, from the constitution of the
1
[ 521 ]
human mind and experience of human nature,
that men act better without CONTROUL than with
it; and that there is an equality of capacity for
government in all men; an equality necessary
to render their government expedient. His
theory is founded on an assumption, and is
not supported by proof. It is not only not
conformable, but is contrary, to experience ;
therefore it carries in it the grounds of disproof.
Though inadmissible as a chain of reasoning,
it certainly displays very great and variegated
ability. There is a strong sarcastic humour in
it, which, to many readers, supplied the defici-
ency of the reasoning: jokes passed for argu-
ments, ludicrous stories for lucid illustration;
lively invective was received for energetic elo-
quence, bold assertion for unanswerable de-
monstration.
The societies and clubs, fast increasing in
number and divisions, testified the highest ap-
probation of Paine's" Rights of Man ;" and very
industriously, through their affiliations, spread
cheap editions of it among the common people,
in all parts of the kingdom; but especially in
populous cities, towns, and villages. When we
consider that Paine reprobates the polity of this
country, and advises the people to unite and subvert
it, and that the Revolution and Constitutional So-
cieties in London, with affiliated clubs in other
parts, praised and DISSEMINATED these doctrines
among those who were most likely to swallow
3 X
}
!
:
[ 522 J
them, we can be at no great loss to comprehend
the intention of the propagandists. Wherever
tendency is obvious in the habitual conduct of
men having the use of their reason, design m may
be fairly inferred.
Meanwhile, Burke, having received an an-
swer from the gentleman to whom he had writ-
ten his letter, replied in a second, entitled
"A Letter to a Member of the National Assem-
bly."
After retouching several subjects that he had
brought forward in his REFLEXIONS, he proceed-
ed to examine the French system in its institų-
tions and principles, with their effects on mo̟.
rals and manners. In his former treatise he
had chiefly considered public and political con-
sequences; in the present, he carries his view
to private, social, and domestic happiness; and
proves that their plans of education and civil
regulations sprung from the same source of un-
tried theory, and tended to the same disorder
and misery. On the subject of juvenile tuition,
he shews the extent of his knowledge, and the
profoundness of his wisdom. He reprobates
the principles by the French system inculcated
on youthful minds, the precepts taught, and
the models exhibited. "Their great problem
is to find a substitute for all the principles which
hitherto have been employed to regulate the
human will and action. They find dispositions
in the mind, of such force and quality, as may
་
[523]
fit men, far better than the old morality, for
the purposes of such a state as theirs, and may
go much further in supporting their power, and
destroying their enemies." He illustrates the
principles instilled concerning parental affec-
tion, marriage, and other principal sentiments
and relations of man; and knowing that Rous-
seau was the chief model held up to the imita
tion of youth, whom they were enjoined, `stimu-
lated, and exhorted to copy, analyses his cha-
racter, to ascertain the-effects likely to result
from following such an example. He also cha-
racterizes Voltaire, though with much less pro-
found investigation than Rousseau; and Hel-
vetius more generally than Voltaire.
,,
. The next publication of Burke on French af
fairs was the Appeal from the New to the
Old Whigs Before this comes under consi-
deration, it is necessary to recapitulate some
parts of parliamentary history In session 1790,
after the discussion between him and Messrs.
Fox and Sheridan, he had adhered uniformly
to the sentiments he then avowed. He had op-
posed the repeal of the Test-act, and a motion
for a reform in parliament. Mr. Fox and he
had still continued on terms of friendship, al-
though they did not so frequently meet. In
1791, a bill was proposed for the formation of a
constitution in Canada. In discussing it Burke
entered on the general principles of legislation,
considered the doctrine of the rights of man,
犟
​[.524 ]
proceeded to its offspring, the constitution of
France, and expressed his conviction that there
was a design formed in this country against its
´constitution.
After some members of the party had called
Burke to order, Mr. Fox spoke. Mr. Fox con-
ceiving an insinuation of maintaining republi-
can principles, as applicable to the British con-
stitution, to have been made against him by
Mr. Pitt, * and that part of Burke's speech
tending to strengthen that notion, to remove the
impression, declared his conviction that the
British constitution, though defective in theory,
was in practice excellently adapted to this coun-
try. He repeated, however, his praises of the
French revolution; he thought it, on the
whole, one of the most glorious events in the
history of mankind; and proceeded to express
his dissent from Burke's opinions on the sub-
ject, as inconsistent with just views of the in-
herent rights of mankind. These, besides,
were, he said, inconsistent with Burke's former
principles. He contended also that the discus-
sion of the French revolution was irrelative to
the Quebec bill.
Burke, in reply, said, "Mr. Fox has treated
me with harshness and malignity: after having
* On this subject, Mr. Pitt, in the course of the discus
sion, explained his meaning to Mr. Fox's satisfaction.
•
[ 525]
2
1
harassed with his light troops in the skirmishes
of order, he brought THE HEAVY ARTILLERY of
his own great abilities to bear on me." He
maintained, that the French constitution and
general system were replete with anarchy, impi-
ety, vice, and misery; that the discussion of á
new polity for a province that had been under
the French, and was now under the English
government, was a proper opportunity of com-
paring the French and British constitutions.
He denied the charge of inconsistency: his opi-
nions on government, he insisted, had been the
same during all his political life. He said, Mr.
Fox and he had often differed, and that there
had been no loss of friendship between them: but
there is something in the cursed French constitu-
tion, which envenoms every thing. Fox whis-
pered, "there is no loss of friendship between
us.” Burke'answered, “there is! I know the
price of my conduct; our friendship is at an
end." He concluded with exhorting the two
great men that headed the opposite parties-
"whether they should move in the political
hemisphere, as two blazing stars in opposite
orbits, or walk together as brethren, that they
would preserve the British constitution, and
guard it against innovation."
Mr. Fox was very greatly agitated by this re-
nunciation of friendship, and made many con-
cessions; but in the course of his speech still
maintained that Burke had formerly held very
1
[ 526 ]
different principles, and that he himself had
learned from him those very principles which
he now reprobated. He endeavoured to sup:
port his allegation by references to measures
which Burke had either proposed or promoted;
and also cited ludicrous expressions and obser
vations of his to the same purpose. This repe.
tition of the charge of inconsistency prevent-
ed the impression which the affectionate and
respectful language and behaviour, and the con-
ciliatory apologies of Fox might have probably
made on Burke. It would be difficult to deter-
mine with certainty, whether constitutional
irritability or public principle was the chief
cause of Burke's sacrifice of that friendship
which he had so long cherished, and of which
the talents and qualities of its object rendered
him so worthy. However that may have been,
it is certain, that Burke and Fox from this time
never were on their former footing. It has
been asserted also that Mr. Fox had made cri-
tical,animadversions in private on the REFLEX-
IONS, which reached Burke's ears, mortified
him as an author, and displeased him as a
friend-that he had considered it rather as
an effusion of poetic genius than a philosophi-
cal investigation. As Burke certainly intended
to investigate, and knew Fox to be endued with
talents fit to examine and appreciate any pro-
cess of reasoning, (if he allowed his mind the
fair and full exertion) it was natural for hint
[597]
either to be mortified, that to a man, whose
judgment he so highly prized, he had appear-
ed not able to execute his design; or to be dis-
pleased that a partial exertion of his friend's
extraordinary powers had prevented a fair de-
cision. It is certainly natural for a writer
to value what has cost him much labour and
thought, and to feel mortification on unfavour-
able criticism, if he highly respects the judg-
ment of the critic, or believes him impartial
in that particular case; and to be displeased, if
either desultory examination or partiality pro-
duce an erroneous verdict. In allowing that
Burke might have had the feelings of an author,
we only admit that he was subject to the com-
mon infirmities of a man.
66
Some days after the discussion between Fox
and Burke, the following paragraph appeared
in a very able diurnal publication, in the in-
terest of Mr. Fox and his party. Morning
Chronicle, May 12, 1791. The great and firm
body of the Whigs of England, true to their
principles, have decided on the dispute between
Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke; and the former is
declared to have maintained the pure doctrines
by which they are bound together, and upon
which they have invariably acted. The conse-
quence is, that Mr. Burke retires from parlia
ment.'
Burke, presuming that this consignation to
retirement, and the implied censure on his con-
}
1
[ 528 ]
duct here declared, in the confidential vehicle
of the opinions and sentiments of those who
now called themselves the Whigs, entered into
an inquiry into the title of the opposers of his
doctrines to assume that appellation. The in-
quiry led him also to consider the circumstan-
ces and grounds of the dispute between him
and Fox. These inquiries, principally, and the
criticisms by the leading men on his book, sub-
ordinately, constitute the subject of his " Ap-
peal from the New to the Old Whigs." In this
performance he speaks of himself in the third
person, expressing himself very modestly on
the literary merits of his work: he assumes a
more decisive tone in speaking of its scope
and tendency. While he employs much
humbler language concerning his own talents
than any other person of any party would use
on the same subject, he bestows the full but
not exaggerated praise on the powers which
adorned parliament. Considering retirement
as approaching, if not by relegation, by volun-
tary exile, he bestows the following valedictory
eulogium on the characters that composed it:
"Leaving the service of his country, he leaves
parliament without all comparison richer in
abilities than he found it. Very solid and very
brilliant talents distinguish the ministerial
benches. The opposite rows are a sort of´se-
minary of genius, and have brought forth such
and so great talents as never before (amongst
}
[529]
ús at least) have appeared together. If their
owners are disposed to serve their country, (he
trusts they are) they are in a condition to ren-
der it services of the highest importance. If,
through mistake or passion, they are led to con-
. tribute to its ruin, we shall at least have a con-
solation denied to the ruined country that ad-
joins us we shall not be destroyed by men of
mean or secondary capacities."
He defends his reasoning on the French re-
volution, the propriety of discussing its prin.
ciples and effects, when considering the plan of
a new constitution for Canada, and maintains
the consistency of his political conduct through
life. "Strip him (he says) of his consistency,
you leave him naked indeed." His uniform
principles he illustrates by a recapitulation of
his speeches and conduct. He cites the opinions
of the most renowned Whigs of the time of
King William and Queen Anne, especially those
delivered on the trial of Dr. Sacheverel, when
the political creed of the Whigs, if ever, was
freely repeated, to shew that his notions, though
disapproved of by the new Whigs, are in unison
with those of the old. Venerating and loving
the constitution in general, his anxiety was
particularly excited by the danger he appre-
hended to its different members at different
times, for the democracy, the aristocracy, or
the monarchy, as 'the one or other appeared
3 Y
}
1
[ 580 3
likely to be borne down. On this subject he
has the following illustration:
"Whilst he opposes his defence on the part
where the attack is made, he presumes, that
for his regard to the just rights of all the rest,
he has credit in every candid mind. He ought
not to apprehend, that his raising fences about
popular privileges this day, will infer that he
ought, on the next, to concur with those who
would pull down the throne: because on the next
he defends the throne, it ought not to be supposed
that he has abandoned the rights of the people.
“A man who, among various objects of his
equal regard, is secure of some, and full of
anxiety for the fate of others, is apt to go to
much greater lengths in his preference of the
objects of his immediate solicitude than Mr.
Burke has ever done. A man so circumstanced
often seems to undervalue, to vilify, almost to
reprobate and disown, those that are out of
danger. This is the voice of nature and truth,
and not of inconsistency and false pretence.
The danger of any thing very dear to us re.
moves, for the moment, every other affection
from the mind. When Priam had his whole.
thoughts employed on the body of his Hector,
he repels with indignation, and drives from
him with a thousand reproaches, his surviving
sons, who with an officious piety crowded about
him to offer their assistance. A good critic
(there is no better than Mr. Fox) would say,
[ 531 ]
1
that this is a master-stroke, and marks a deep
understanding of nature in the father of poetry.
He would despise a Zoilus, who would conclude
from this passage that Homer meant to repre.
sent this man of affliction as hating or being
indifferent and cold in his affections to the
poor
reliques of his house, or that he preferred a
dead carcase to his living children."
This pamphlet was chiefly written in the
month of July, while Burke and his family
were at Margate. During that period, he seem-
ed totally unemployed; his mornings were
mostly spent in walking about the fields, and
especially towards the North Foreland, whence
he used to take great pleasure in viewing the
ships; the evenings, in easy and familiar inter-
course with many of the Margate visitors, in
the libraries, or at the rooms. He there, as
indeed, on every occasion, attended church
regularly. He was devoutly attentive to the
prayers, and also to the sermons, if the preach.
ers kept within their sphere of moral and reli-
gious instruction; but when they departed from
their official business, he could not always re-
frain from testifying his disapprobation. At
this time there happened to be at Margate a
popular preacher from the vicinity of London.
That gentleman, like the Grecian declaimer who
undertook to lecture before Hannibal on the art of
war, delivered, in the presence of Burke in
Margate church, a long political sermon.
$
[532]
1
<<
Burke manifested an impatience which was ob
served by the whole congregation. He several
times stood up, and took his hat, as if he ex-
pected that the discourse was about to end, and
afterwards sat down with visible marks of dis-
appointment and dissatisfaction. This proba-
bly arose from his dislike to political sermons,
as that one was not worse than discourses in ge-
neral are by persons of common abilities, who
speak flippantly on subjects beyond their reach.
His disapprobation of such sermons he strongly
testified in the following passage in his REFLEX-
IONS:- POLITICS AND THE PULPIT are terms
that have little agreement. No sound ought to
be heard in the church but the healing voice of
Christian charity. The cause of civil liberty
and civil government gains as little as that of
religion by this confusion of-duties. Those
who quit their proper character, to assume
what does not belong to them, are, for the
greater part, ignorant both of the character
they leave, and of the character they assume.
Wholly unacquainted with the world in which
they are so fond of meddling, and inexperien-
ced in all its affairs, on which they pronounce
with so much confidence, they have nothing of
politics but the passions they excite. Surely the
church is a place where one day's TRUCE ought to be
allowed to the dissensions and animosities of man-
kind."
Although the "Appeal" very ably contrast-
[533]
1
ed the doctrines of the old Whigs with those of
Paine and other writers, supported and disse-
minated by the new; and the work was distin-
guished for closeness of reasoning and regula-
rity of method, as well as for energy and depth
of observation; it was not equally read with
bis preceding performances on the subject.
At the time that Burke was adding a strong
redoubt to the fortress which he had raised; the
fabric underwent an attack so vigorous and so
ably conducted as must have overthrown it, had
not the foundation been laid very deep, and the
superstructure consisted of the most massy and
well disposed materials. In summer, 1791,
Mackintosh's VINDICIA GALLICA was published.
Other writers, in attacking Burke's REFLEXIONS,
had mixed subjects foreign to that work; ´had
charged the author with a dereliction of former
opinions, and some of them had imputed either
unworthy or frivolous motives. Mr. Mackin-
tosh, rejecting every irrelative question, pro-
ceeds to the main object. Having studied
Burke's writings and conduct, and investigated
their principles, he had discovered the charge
of INCONSISTENCY to be unfounded; and had seen
that if the matter in consideration had been his
general conduct, instead of a particular work; de-
reliction of a former system, opinions, and action
could not be a subject of just accusation. The
VINDICIA GALLICA is very evidently the result
of very great and very variegated powers and
{
挚
​[534]
}
attainments. Taste, learning, invention, judge,
ment, eloquence, acute reasoning, profound
philosophy, and habits of correct and elegant.
composition are most fully and happily displayed.
His illustrations and allusions manifest great ex-
tent and multiplicity of knowledge; the lumi-
nous arrangement, a comprehensiveness of
understanding that examines every relation of
its subject; fertility of invention and correct-
ness of judgment are shewn in framing his the
ory and giving it consistency; strong and ani.
mated eloquence is exhibited in various parts of
the work, especially in describing the miseries
of the despotism, the progress and completion
of its overthrow, and the joy of its subjects on
emancipation; close and perspicuous state-
ment, vigorous argumentation is the promi
nent character of his discussion; profound phi-
losophy, of his exhibitions of mind. The ob-
vious purpose of the learned and able author is
the melioration of the condition of man. Know.
ledge, science, and genius, prompted by phi-
lanthropy, do .not always discover the most
effectual means for the attainment of their ends.
The perfection of reason consists in giving
every object a consideration proportioned to
its relative importance. This philosopher, turn-
ing his mind chiefly to possibility of happiness,
rather overlooks capability of attainment. Con.
vinced that men, habitually guided by reason,
and determined by virtue, would be happier ·
}
[535 ]
under small than considerable restraints, he
proposes a controul too feeble for the actual
state of mankind; for the actual state of any
men now existing; much more of a people
whose national character, FROM the old despotism,
and other causes, required a greater degree of
controul than some of their neighbours. Ar-
guing from untried theory, instead of expe-
rience, it is not surprising that the conclusions
of this great man have been entirely contra-
dicted by the event. The changes which he
vindicates are too rapid FOR THE PROGRESSION
of the human character. * Mr. Mackintosh's
position, that considerable evil must be hazarded
for the prospect of good to posterity, admits of
great limitations, according to the degree and
quantity of the sufferings, and the probability
of the recom pence.
Burke this year, on the annunciation by the
French Ambassador of the acceptance of the
new constitution by the King, wrote "Hints
for a Memorial," to be delivered to Monsieur
Montmorin. It contains an application to the
existing circumstances of his general principles
on the French revolution. He describes its
*The reader will find this subject ably explained from a
view of the operations of mind, and beautifully illustrated
from the analogy of nature, in Dr. William Thomson's Let-
ter to Dr. Parr, annexed to Dr. Parr's Statement of his
Dispute with Curtis.
[536 ]
ture and effects, and its partizans in different
countries. He marks the probable progress
of its spirit, he details circumstances in adja-
cent countries likely to promote its aperation.
He combats the opinion of those who thought
that it would be dissolved from its own vio-
lence. It is, he thinks, invulnerable by inter-
nal attacks solely. Its resources, he alledges,
are not in its credit, in its national finances, or
any of the usual constituents; but in its wick-
edness, which makes all property subservient to
its use. He sums up his arguments into three
propositions :-first, that no counter-revolu-
tion is to be expected in France from internal
causes solely. Secondly, That the longer the
present system exists, the greater will be its
strength. Thirdly, That as long as it exists
in France, it would be the interest of the revo-
lutionists to distract and revolutionize other
countries. This is one of three memorials
published after his death.
In 1792, the operations of French principles
in this country became very extensive and very
dangerous. Paine had published his second
part of the "r Rights of Man," which may be
{
considered as an exhortation to the subjects of
existing governments, especially of Britain,
TO A PRACTICAL APPLICATION of the theory
of his first part. The purport of it was simply
this: "I have before told you that your go-
vernment is a very bad one: I now earnestly
A
}
[537]
recommend to you to get rid of it; pull down
your monarchy, aristocracy, all your establish-
ments, level every distinction; so only can you
enjoy the Rights of Man." This second part
was by the societies spread with still more inde-
fatigable industry and ardent zeal than the
first. Productions connecting the speculations
and precepts of Paine with the example of
France, as lessons and models for this country,
were widely dispersed. Thomas Paine was re-
presented as the Minister of God dispensing
light to a darkened world. * Government
finding attempts to reduce these wild theories to
practice, issued a proclamation recommending
to individuals to discourage such writings and
their probable effects; and enjoining the magis-
trates to employ means for preserving the public
tranquillity, which these attempts tended somuch
to disturb. An association, as the reader must
remember, had been formed by Messrs. Sheri-
dan, Mackintosh, Erskine, Courtenay, Lord
Lauderdale, Major Maitland, Messrs. Grey,
Whitbread, and Lambton, comprising great
talents, property, and respectability, under the
•
3 z
+
*
Especially in a very daring daily paper of that time,
the object of which was to abuse the constitution of this
country. In the Argus there were two verses in imitation of
the praise of Newton :
"The world was hid in universal night."
“God said, let Paine arise, and all was light!"
}
[538 ]
hame of the "Friends of the People," to procure
a reform in parliament. Although the character
of the individuals who composed this body, and
the stake many of them had in the country, pre-
cluded every idea that their object was any
thing more than a moderate reform, yet they
afforded a colourable pretext to the formation
of societies of a very different description and
of very different views. Under pretence of
seeking reform, many individuals, in every
quarter of the country, established Correspond-
ing Societies, of which it has by no means
appeared, that all the members sought a mode-
rate reform, or by peaceable means. The dis-
cussion of the proclamation brought forward
the sentiments of many of the members on re-
form in parliament. Burke, as he had always
done, declared his disapprobation of it as un-
necessary, and reprobated its agitation at that
time as dangerous. Other members, who had for-
merly been favourable to reform in parliament,
opposed it then. Mr Pitt conceiving that
every political measure was to be estimated not
merely on abstract principles, but on these,
combined with the circumstances of the case,
argued, that although a reform might have been
expedient before the minds of many indivi-
duals were unhinged by Paine and his co-ope-
rators, any change would then be improper, when
ideas of subversion were entertained. During
the recess of 1792 the public ferment increased.
The French having dethroned their King, and
t
[539]
massacred their opponents, deputations- were
sent from the societies in England to congra.
tulate them on the progress of light. The re-
treat of the Duke of Brunswick, a retreat not
displeasing to some even of the moderate friends
of liberty, to those, at least, who considered the
good of real liberty in the abstract more than
of the phantom that had assumed its name in
France, greatly emboldened the democratical
republicans of England; who admired that phan-
tom. The French, elated with success, pub-
lished their proffer of support to all people who
should be desirous of what they (the French)
termed liberty. About the capital the ap-
proaching downfall of the British constitution
began to be a subject of common talk. King,
Lords, and Commons, church and state, were
described as on the eve of dissolution. The
garrulous vanity of some of the weak and ig
norant members of the democratical societies
boasted of the situations they were to attain
under the new order to be speedily established.
There was evidently (as far as people can judge
from circumstances) a design formed to over-
throw the constitution; and confidence of its
success. * Wisdom, indeed common prudence
dictated to Government to take effectual mea-
sures for crushing pernicious designs. It may
* To accurate and impartial observers of the sentiments
and opinions prevalent among many in 1792, especially in
November of that year, I appeal whether this account is
exaggerated.
[540]
}
}
be said that there was no proof of the existence
of a plot sufficient to bring the supposed con-
That was, doubtless, very
spirators to trial.
true at that time;
but there are certainly num-
berless cases which call for the vigilance of de-
liberative assemblies, which could not be evinced
on a judicial trial.
Burke, on the commencement of the war
between the German potentates and the French
republic, had sent his son to Coblentz, with the
knowledge and approbation of Government, in
order to know the dispositions of the allied
Powers. From the apparent want of concert be-
tween these potentates, he did not augur highly
of the success of their efforts. It was early his
opinion that nothing short of a general combi-
nation of established governments, co-operating
with the royalists of France, could subdue a
system, which, if not crushed, he conceived
would be destructive to all existing society.
Soon after the retreat of the King of Prussia,
and the subsequent successes of the republicans,
he wrote the second memorial contained in his
posthumous works. He exhorted this country
to take the lead in forming a general combina-
tion for the repression of French power and of
French principles. Before this was published
the opening of the Scheldt, and the acts of France
to promote her own aggrandizement, and also
measures and decrees tending to interfere with
the internal government of this country, had
produced hostilities.
[541]
The internal dangers of the nation had ex-
cited a general association in defence of liberty
and property against republicans and levellers.
The militia was embodied, other precautions
were taken by the executive government, and
parliament was assembled. Burke coincided
with Ministry in contending that great danger
existed to this constitution, and country from
Jacobinical principles, and designs abroad and at
home. The Duke of Portland, Lord Fitzwilliam,
Lord Spencer, and other leading men of the old
Whig interest; Lord Stormont, Lord Carlisle,
Lord Loughborough, and, except Messrs. Adam,
Courtenay, and Lord Guildford, the principal
men of the North part of the coalition, were
impressed with the same alarm, and also the
learned, ingenious, and able friend of Burke,
Mr. Windham. Mr. Fox and his party ridi-
culed the idea of internal danger, considered
the invasion of France as a combination of des-
pots against freedom, and declared their joy at
the compelled retreat of the Prussians and Aus-
trians. Fox censured Ministry for removing
from the Guards officers who had sought and
received fraternity from the enemies of kingly
government abroad, and were connected with
societies inimical to the British constitution at
home. Mr. Fox, indeed, seems to have retain-
ed his admiration of the French spirit when it
was evidently producing effects contrary to
what, if he had attended chiefly to them, his
patriotism, benevolence, and wisdom could
{
1
[ 542 j
have approved. With a mind of a force and
comprehension which few have equalled, he did
not always turn his attention to the whole
"circuit of affairs." Possessing intellectual op-
tics which nothing within the reach of man could
elude, his views were not always equally circum-
spicient. One object sometimes engaged his
mind so much as to prevent the due considera-
tion of others equally important. Adopting a
principle, he was sometimes guided by it too
implicitly, without subjecting it to the modifi-
cations, or bounding it by the limits which
were necessary either to just deduction or pru-
dent measures. On certain occasions the powers
of his extraordinary genius have been exerted
rather in the invention of the most apposité
means, than in the choice of the wisest ends.
The love of liberty, a sentiment so natural to
a noble and generous mind, and so congenial tó
the feelings of an Englishman, so much occupied
this great man, that he cherished its excesses,
and even its counterfeit; a counterfeit pro-
ducing the greatest mischiefs, both to its vƠ-
taries and their neighbours. The question was
not, whether foreign despots, attacking a free
country, deserved the support or opposition of
a free country, and the good wishes of its citi-
zens? If stated in that abstract form, it must
certainly be answered in the negative. But
whether a nation of known ambition, increased
energy, in the career of external conquest, sti-
mulating internal discord in all countries to
·
[543]
which its agents had access, was not to be re-
pressed, because, in the attempt to check, we
must have the assistance of arbitrary powers?
This was the reasoning of Burke and Windham,
in which they, on the whole, coincided with Dun-
das, Grenville; and Pitt. The question of expe-
diecy of war with France was certainly a subject
concerning which men of the greatest talents
and best intentions might differ, according to
the view they took of it; as, indeed, such men
did differ. Those who are thoroughly satisfied
of the justice and policy of the war with France,
unless uncandid, must admit, that of the able
men who opposed it, THEIR CHARACTER and 1HEIR
STAKE in the country was a ground for believing
that most of them opposed it from conviction.
Never did parliamentary eloquence shine
with more lustre than during the debates rela-
tive to the internal state of the country and
the war with France. The subject was, indeed,
of much more extensive and complicated im-
portance, and of still nearer interest, than that
of America itself. Parliament contained a still
greater assemblage of genius than during the
discussion with the colonies. Burke never ex-
*
* The speeches of Messrs. Dundas, Windham, and Burke,
on the effects of the new doctrines in this kingdom; those
of Lord Grenville and of Mr. Pitt on the conduct of France
and the causes of the war, contain most important informa-
tion concerning that momentous period; as do those of their
opponents vary great ingenuity.
[544]
1
}
erted his mind with more energy during the
vigour of his age, than now that he had attained
his grand climacteric. But as he considered
the questions agitated as of infinitely greater
moment, he was still more anxious to have
other members, whose talents he admired and
venerated, of the same sentiments and opinion
with himself. He was peculiarly desirous to
impress Fox with his own notion of the perni-
cious materials of which the French system
was composed, the direful effects that had
proceeded, and were likely to proceed from
it, the necessity of the most vigorous efforts
to repress its extension, and even to crush
it's existence. Entertaining the very highest
opinion of his extraordinary talents, he urged
his co-peration, and was disappointed to dis- '
pleasure when he failed of success. In these
opinions and sentiments we see the origin of
his Letter to the Duke of Portland,
66 on the
Conduct of Domestic Parties." The letter was
never intended to be made public. It was de-
signed for the perusal of his Grace and Lord
Fitzwilliam only, to account to these noblemen
for his disapprobation of the most active mem-
bers of that party, with which they still conti-
nued in some degree to act; and deposited with
the Duke, not to be read by him and his friend
until a separation from Mr. Fox, which he per-
ceived must take place, should ensue.
A rough
draft of the letter had been copied by the ama.
núensis whom he employed. From that a sur-
[ 545]
*
reptitious copy was printed in the beginning of
1797, in which the title was falsified; and it was
represented to be " fifty-four articles of im-
peachment against the Right Hon. Charles
James Fox." An injunction from Chancery was
applied for immediately by the friends of Burke ;
but too late; the mischief was done. By the trea-
chery of a confidential agent, a paper was given
to the public which was intended for the private
perusal of two friends. On hearing of the
publication, Burke, then at Bath, wrote Dr.
Lawrence the letter which he quotes. There
he says,
"Wherever this matter comes into
discussion, I authorize you to contradict the
infamous réports, which (I am informed) have
been given out, that this paper had been cir-
culated through the Ministry, and was intended
gradually to slide into the press.
.. But I beg
you and my friends to be cautious how you let
it be understood that I disclaim any thing but
the mere act and intention of publication. I
do not retract any one of the sentiments con-
tained in that memorial, which was and is my
justification, addressed to the friends, for whose
use alone I intended it. Had I designed it for
the public I should have been more exact and full.
It was written in a tone of indignation, in con-
sequence of the resolutions of the Whig Club, †
4 A
*Preface to Burke's Posthumous Works.
+ In the Whig Club, at their meeting in February 1793,
Lord William Russell proposed a resolution approving of
[546]
1
which were directly pointed against myself
and others, and occasioned our secession from
that club; which is the last act of my life that
I shall under any circumstances repent. Many
temperaments and explanations there would
have been, if ever I had a notion that it should
meet the public eye,"
Burke had in 1792 privately used every effort
in his power to bring Fox to join in what he
considered as the salvation of his country.
Alarmed as he was at the progress of French
principles in this country, rapidly accelerated
by the success of its power on the continent,
he conceived the preservation of the constitu-
tion, of the country, of every thing dear to
Britons, to be in the power of Fox. "With Mr.
Fox (said he) we may save the country; even
without him we ought to attempt it." His re-
gret and displeasure at the failure of his at-
tempts has probably led him to an asperity in
his strictures upon Fox in this letter to the
Duke of Portland, which many, who agree with
Burke's sentiments and opinions on the general
questions, will think unjust. Every measure
the conduct of Mr. Fox, and expressed in such a manner as
to convey a censure on those members who had of late dif-
fered with him in political sentiments and conduct. Burke,
Windham, and other eminent men, who considered them-
selves as implicated in the censure, desired to withdraw their
names from the club.
+
[ 547 ]
of the Minority during that period, every op-
position to the plans of Government respecting
internal or external politics, he censures, and
charges them all on Mr. Fox. Even societies
to which he gave no countenance," the Friends
of the People,"
"" the Friends of the Freedom of
the Press," are presumed by him to be objects of
reprobation, and Fox to be principally blameable,
because he supposes he might have prevented
their formation. Here Mr. Burke makes two sup-
positions the ground of an inference. First, that
the two societies in question are inimical to the
constitution; a supposition not probable, from
the character and interest of the members that
formed either; nor justified by their subsequent
conduct. Secondly, that Fox could have pre-
vented that formation; which is not certain.
In summer 1793, the political labours of Burke
had an agreeable relaxation in his visit to Ox-
ford, when his friend, the Duke of Portland,
was to be installed Chancellor of the university;
a ceremony which was conducted with great
dignity and splendour. Burke received the
most flattering marks of attention, both in
public and private, from the principal persons
who composed the meeting. During this week
he was the guest of the Rev. Mr. Winstanley,
Principal of Alban-hall and Camden Profes-
sor of Ancient History; a gentleman for whom
he always manifested a particular esteem, and
whose interest he endeavoured, on all occasions,
to promote. This circumstance, with innu-
[548 ]
:
}
A
merable others of the like nature, might be
adduced in contradiction to the assertion,
that Burke was not a warm friend of literary
merit.*
Young Mr. Burke was, at this time, with Mr.
Windham, Mr. Malone, the Hon. Frederick
North, and others, admitted to the honorary
degree of L L. D.
The eagerness of Burke to repress French
principles and power appeared this summer,
in the joy he discovered on hearing the news of
the taking of Valenciennes. Mr. Dundas dis-
patched a messenger to communicate the tid-
* Another asssertion, equally ill-founded, that Burke's
knowledge of languages was superficial, stands refuted by
unquestionable authority. Mr. Winstanley, in a letter to a
friend, expresses himself in the following terms, which,
though unauthorized, I take the liberty to transcribe.
"It would be indeed as useless, as it would be presump-
tuous, in me, to attempt to add to the reputation of Mr.
Burke. Among the studies to which I have immediately
applied, there is one, which, from his attention to the more
important concerns of active life, it might be supposed that
he had overlooked :-I mean that of ancient and modern
languages. Those, however, who were acquainted with
the universality of his information, will not be surprised to
hear that it would be exceedingly difficult to have met with
a person who knew more of the philosophical history and
filiation of languages, or of the principles of etymological
deduction, than Mr. Burke."
The character of Mr. Winstanley, as a man profoundly
skilled both in the ancient and modern languages, stamps an
authority upon his judgment, sufficient to overturn all vague
assertion, that Burke was little acquainted with the learned
tongues.
[549]
4
ings to Mr. Burke, whom he found at a country'
theatre, at Charlefont, some miles from Bea-
consfield. Burke, on reading the letter, went
upon the stage, and read it to the audience with
every mark of delight. Towards the close of
the year, when affairs wore a less favourable as-
pect to the Allies, he wrote a third memorial,
entitled "Remarks on the Policy of the Allies
with respect to France." In this paper he in-
timates, that the object of the several allied
Powers was evidently private aggrandizement
more than the support of legitimate govern-
ment, religion, and property, against Jacobin
ism. He gives a very pathetic description of
the dreadful state of France under the existing
anarchy; and contends that whatever partial
changes may take place, that while the princi-
ples continue, similar misery, if not the same,
is to be expected; that the reduction of parts
of the French territories under the dominion
of any of the Allies could not promote the
wisest purpose of the war. The only certain
means of restoring order, religion, and pro-
perty in France, was, by committing the chief
direction of every thing respecting her internal
affairs to the emigrant princes, nobility, gen-
try, and clergy. These, which he calls the
"Moral France," ought to have the arrange-
ment of the government now usurped over the
arithmetical and geographical France. Under
them only could it be expected, he thought,
2
T
[ 550 ]
that the blessings of religion, order, virtue,
and property could be established. After the
great convulsions and the state of anarchy then
prevalent, it was his opinion, that the esta-
blishment of a fixed and permanent constitu-
tion could not be effected without the prepara-
tory exercise, by those classes, of something
approaching to a military government. When
that should be fixed, he recommends a scheme
of "discriminating justice, tempered with en-
lightened mercy," of the greatest wisdom, if it
were expedient that those classes should possess
the power which it pre-supposes. It might be
a question with many, whether these emigrants,
either in their general conduct and characters,
or in their behaviour, had. exhibited such ta-
lents and qualities as would render a discre-
tionary power in their possession likely to form
a good government. At the same time, those
who think the most meanly of the emigrants as
a body, will allow that there was some proba-
bility that any government they had contrived
could not be more inconsistent with liberty and
happiness, than the Robersperian and succeed-
ing schemes in France.
The vigilance of Government, and the pre-
vention of all communication with France, had
repressed, but not crushed the doctrines of.
Paine and his coadjutors. Of the new theories,
there were gradations and classes, adapted to
different kinds of readers or hearers. For the
[ 551 ]
vulgar there were the vehement declamation,
the unqualified invective, the poignant abuse,
the well-aimed sophistry of Paine himself, and
on his plan. As genius invents, humbler ta-
lents imitate. There were thousands of Jaco-
binical writers, who endeavoured to accommo-
date his notions, speculations, and precepts,
to the varying circumstances of affairs, in order
the more effectually to inflame. Demagogues,
calling themselves political lecturers, did their
best to promote the same end of exciting disaf
fection, desire of innovation, and the conse-
quent action. As the lessons of Paine and his
imitators in writing, and the efforts of Thel-
wall and his fellow labourers, could produce ef-
fect among only the very lowest and most
ignorant, there were authors of a higher
cast of literature, though much beneath the
abilities of Paine. By these novels were con-
structed to misrepresent the existing institu-
tions, orders, and classes, to readers of a taste
above relishing the coarseness of Paine, or the
feebleness and ignorance of itinerant lecturers.
There were others to devise systems of philo.
sophy, to please those that dabbled in what
they supposed metaphysics. These set them-
selves about overthrowing the doctrines of re-
ligion and a future state; free agency, natural
affection, friendship, and patriotism; that thus
philanthropy might not operate in the cases in
which it was most likely to produce happiness,-
אי
[ 552 ]
'as a
as a moral improvement: they proposed the disso-
lution of all government, the annihilation of
property, and the levelling of ranks and distinc-
tions,-as a political improvement. To excite, fo-
ment, or increase discontent among the unin-
formed, there were Paine and coadjutors; for
persons of more taste and knowledge, but with
confined views of mankind, there were Hol-
.croft's novels; for those that had a glimmering
of metaphysics, and who, engaging in what they
did not understand, forgot what they did, there
was Godwin. Paine, Holcroft, and Godwin had
established three great banks of anarchy and in-
fidelity (there might be much greater capitalists
that did not avow themselves) whose notes in-
ferior dealers took, and circulated for current
cash.
Inflamed by teachers and ministers of sedi-
tion, many of the populace conceived them-
selves to be totally deprived of their rights,
and that nothing would restore them but a na-
tional convention. A plan of this sort having
been tried in Edinburgh, and a meeting hav-
ing taken place, under that name, in which
also the subordinate phraseology of the French
was adopted, to shew the model of imitation;
the meeting having been' dispersed by the acti-
vity of the chief magistrate, and the leaders
punished, an assembly of the same kind was
* A national convention of delegates having, by our constitu-
tion, no authority to alter the government; but, according
[ 558 ]
}
preparing to be held in England. While the so-
cieties, their committees, and sections, by their
proceedings, severally and jointly, shewed the
object to be a change, not indeed exactly defin
ed, but obviously not consistent with the existing
constitution of this country, and by means not
warranted by its laws. These plans verified
the predictions of Burke respecting the effect
of wild theories in this country, as the whole
system of the French operations, in principle
and detail, in every transfer of power, had ve-
rified his predictions concerning their effect in
France. The issue of the trials that followed
the inquiry concerning the proceedings of the
societies, does not, in the least, affect the pre-
dictions of Burke. All that the acquittal
proved, was, that the jury did not receive the
legal definition of treason in the same sense in
which the Attorney-General used it as the
ground of the indictment; or the grand jury
as the ground for finding a bill. There might
be devised by the fertile invention of wicked-
ness many modes of conduct of equal moral
culpability and political hurt with those that
are punishable capitally. Every impartial man
will see grounds for inference in cases where
there are not grounds for verdicts.
Burke had resolved to retire from parliament
4 B
to Paine's Rights of Man, necessary to regenerate the go
vernment of Britain.
[554]
1
when the trial of Hastings should be finished.
This summer a sentence was passed, and Burke
soon after resigned his seat.
During the important period of Burke's par-
liamentary life, the eloquence of the senate had
received very considerable improvement. Able
men took a wider range of knowledge; inves-
tigated more profoundly; and thus their dis
éussions, besides their immediate applicability
to the questions at issue, contained a much
greater quantity of general truth. Although
this effect may be in some degree owing to the
progression of philosophy, yet it has been cons
šiderably accelerated by individual genius. In
Fox's orations we have found, from the com-
mencement of his intimacy with Burke, a more
rapid advancement in political philosophy than
even his own great mind would probably so
soon have produced. All those who admiré
the force of his eloquence, (and who, that pos-
sesses taste, and, what is of more consequence,
comprehension of understanding, that does not?)
if they have attentively considered its progres:
sion, will acknowledge that Burke's conversation,
speeches, and writings have tended to enhance
its value. Mr. Grey, Lord Lauderdale, Duke of
Bedford, Messrs. Courtenay, Erskine, Sheridan;
and other distinguishing observers, who look up
to Fox as the highest where they themselves are
high, will admit that great additions have been
made to the attainments of their friend by Ed-
•
1
[555]
1
P
1
mund Burke, Great minds only can derive
great accessions of intellectual riches from in-
tellectual treasures. There is a gentleman of
the first, talents, cultivated by literature and
disciplined by, science, who has profited beyond
most men from the example and lessons of
Burke, as his mind was more peculiary fitted
for receiving the advantages, not by nature
only, but by a similar course of previous study,
Mr. Windham, before he entered parliament,
had bestowed very great: attention on letters
and philosophy, and had attained uncommon
excellence in logical closeness, acute reasoning,
and profound investigation. Intimately ac-
quainted with other men of letters, and a most
favourite companion of the Litchfield sage, he
had a mind well fitted by nature, and prepared
by pursuit and habit, for receiving the wisdom-
of Burke. Between men of cogenial minds, in-
timacy is generally the follower of acquaintance;
Mr. Windham soon became the most confi.
dential friend of the illustrious personage. Like
Burke, he loved liberty as the means of hap-
piness; venerated the British constitution, as
the best preserver of freedom to that extent.
Thoroughly acquainted with the human mind,
he perceived that the surest ratiocinative guide
was experience; and was, therefore, like his
friend, an enemy to speculative innovations,
His speeches are less those of an orator that
wishes to impress your feelings, than of a
1
[ 566]
}
philosopher, who seeks to inform, convince,
and expand your understanding. His ora-
tions were less frequent than those of many
very interior speakers, (at least very in-
ferior reasoners) he seldom spoke much, un-
less on important subjects; but the know-
ledge, the argumentation, the philosophy ex-
hibited by him when he did speak, had rendered
his character very high; as also the estimation
in which he was held by the party of which he
was a member, and by those of the opposite
side. From his own rules of reasoning he had
judged unfavourably of the French system,
proceeding on principles so very contrary.
The expanded philosophy of his friend confirm-
ed the conclusions of his own mind. He repro-
bated the new order of France, and dreaded it
when practically held up as a model for Britain.
Then did his powers fully unfold themselves.
In the discussions on the internal state of the
country, as affected by the dissemination of le-
velling doctrines, animated by the momentous
subject, he displayed an energetic eloquence
that few could equal; but that he himself has
since equalled, when occasions arose to call
forth his MIND.
On the same subject, the internal state of the
country, Mr. Dundas had very fully displayed
his intellectual powers: powers, which those
who confound principals and adjuncts do not
justly estimate; but those who can, in their ope
2
[557]
*
rations, appreciate the qualities of mind, highly
value. Official habits of business so easily
master common details, that it is not reckoned
a proof of great talents to be distinguished as
a man of business. To transact affairs in the
precedented routine is certainly a matter of no
ingenuity or ability; but that is no proof that
great ability may not be shewn in the transac-
tion of affairs. Mr. Dundas is distinguished
not merely for business, but for the ready com-
prehension of the most complicated details and
intricate relations; for instantaneous perception
of the case, application of the principle, deci-
sion of resolution, and promptness of dispatch.
Both in the senate and in office he is most pe
culiarly eminent for immediately taking off the
husk, and finding the kernel. An understand-
ing naturally strong, had been exerted in his
profession long enough to invigorate his fa-
culties without contracting their exertion. He
too, for a long period of his parliamentary life,
rarely spoke, unless on great occasions. On
these he shewed the readiness of his penetra-
tion, the extent of appropriate knowledge, and
the masculine strength of his intellect. One
proof of his penetration was, that he first per-
ceived the nature of a very great mind, and its
fitness even in early youth for that situation
* See Burke's character of Mr. Grenville,
[ 558 ]
which generally requires maturity of years to
be united with genius.
August 2, 1794, Mr. Burke met with a domestic
loss, which afflicted him very heavily, in the
death of his only son. That gentleman had given
proofs of considerable abilities. Those who were
most intimate with him give him the praise of
a clear, acute, and vigorous understanding;
and affirm that, if his health had permitted the
close and intense application which he was dis-
posed to bestow, he would have equalled most
men of his age. Even with the interrupted atten-
tion which he was able to give, he had acquired
the high opinion of men of rank and talents;
an opinion which his conduct as agent for the
Roman Catholics of Ireland confirmed. On
the nomination of Lord Fitzwilliam to the
viceroyalty of Ireland, Mr. Burke was appointed
his secretary; but his premature death inter
vened. He was deeply conversant in the histo-
ry
and constitution both of Ireland and Britain.
He is said to have ministered to the genius of
his father in collating some of the instances of
speeches and opinions by old Whigs, to whom
his father appeals from the new. He died at
Cromwell-house, Brompton, aged 36, and was
buried in Beaconsfield church. His father
could never after bear to see the place of his
interment; and when going from his villa to
town, instead of coming through Beaconsfield,
he took a cross road behind an eminence which
[559]
intercepted the sight of the church. But al-
though he felt his sorrows as a man, he bore
them as a man. His grief was, "
His grief was. "strong and
deep," (says the Editor of his Posthumous
Works) " but it never relaxed the vigour of his
mind, whatever subject called upon him to ex-
ert it ; nor the interest which he took, to the last
moment, in the public weal.” *
On the subject of the Irish Catholics, the
opinion of Burke, as often expressed, and parti.
cularly in his Letter to Sir Hercules Langrish,
was, that a gradual and modified relief should
be granted to them, so that they might finally
be raised to a level with other dissenters.
At the state trials, Burke's name had been
very freely mentioned by the first judicial ora-
tor of this country and age. Some months after,
on the return of Lord Fitzwilliam, when the
causes of the recall were the subject of inquiry
by the Peers, the Duke of Norfolk threw out
some reflections against Mr. Burke," as having
written a book, which, amidst much splendour
of eloquence, contained much pernicious doc-
trine, and had provoked, on the other side, a
very mischievous answer." This attack drew
from Burke a reply, in which he also took no-
tice of the animadversions made on his works
ર
* The beginning of the same year he lost his brother
Richard, whom he most affectionately loved.
+ Preface to Posthumous Works, page 67.
[560 ]
}
at the trials.
The letter is dated May 26, 1795)
and shews that his domestic affliction had not
impaired the vigour of his faculties: it was ad-
dressed to his highly prized friend Mr. Wind-
ham. Burke directs chiefly against his oppo
nents his versatile, sportive, but strong and
sarcastic humour. He enters into a most elo-
quent vindication of his own conduct respect-
ing the French revolution; protesting that his
object was the preservation of that religion, vir-
tue, and happiness, which the French system
was using every effort to destroy. He strongly
expresses his regret that the King of Prussia
had abandoned the alliance; and endeavours to
demonstrate that nothing short of a general
combination, pursuing the same object in con-
cert, will prevent the French system from over-
whelming Europe.
Soon after the death of his son, the King was
pleased to settle a considerable pension on him
and Mrs. Burke His detractors had alledged
that his embarrassed circumstances had been
the cause of the part he took in the French
revolution; that he wished to conciliate the
favour of Ministry, and thought this a very ad-
vantageous opportunity. To assign motives is
so much easier than to combat arguments, that
it is not surprising that many of Mr. Burke's
opponents have chosen that mode. To promote
effectually even the purposes of malignity, re-
quires an invention not merely following the
[ 561
It's
3
suggestions of malice, but regarding also con-
sistency and probability. The general charac-
ter of Burke, his sacrifice of interest to princi-
ple, or even to party, with very little inter-
mission from the year 1765 to 1790 (for it can-
not well be doubted, that if he had chosen to
sacrifice other considerations to his interest, he
might have got into office) renders the charge
improbable. What, however, is improbable
may be true. It is possible that one may act
the part of an honest disinterested man for
twenty-five years, and turn a rogue the twenty-
sixth. But it is to be presumed he will not
become so gratuitously. Supposing, as Mr.
McCormick asserts, that Edmund Burke had
humbly applied to Ministry to admit him as one
of their creatures, would he desert all his old
friends for nothing? If he became the tool of
corruption, where was the bribe? If he attack,
ed French liberty to please the British Ministry;
if, to` gratify them, he attempted to shew the
evils of untried theories, and especially of such
a theory as theirs, he certainly conducted him-
self very foolishly in procuring no emolument,
no appointment, no official situation from them
during the time that he bore the brunt of the
battle. While in parliament, and that he could
effectually serve them, he received nothing.
The pension was presented to him when he was
no longer in a situation to give them his as.
sistance. It must therefore have been some
4 C
i
[582]
}
other cause, not a bargain for gain, that made
him attack the French system. Besides, if he
were ever so corrupt, his arguments depended
upon their intrinsic force, not on his motives
for wielding that force.
His pension having become the subject of
disapprobation from Lord Lauderdale and the
Duke of Bedford, he, in the beginning of 1796,
wrote a Letter to a noble Lord, (Lord Fitz-
william) on the strictures made on him by Lord
Lauderdale and the Duke of Bedford. There
are occasions on which it becomes a duty to
assert one's own merits. This Burke does in
the letter in question. Firmly, but without ar-
rogance, he goes over his reform plans, his pro-
ceedings respecting India, and others of the
principal acts of his life. What he says of his
services to this country, impartial examiners
of his conduct must think MUCH LESS than truth
would have justified, or even occasion required.
The retrospective view of the means by which
the Duke of Bedford's ancestors acquired their
property must have been the mere effect of
anger at a censure passed on a just recompence, .
and not intended as reasoning. It is generally
said that Burke's account of 'the Russell ac-
quirements is erroneous; but however that
may be, it was foreign to the purpose. The
Duke of Bedford had a right to inquire into
the disposal of the public money. Mr. Burke
could have proved, as Lord Grenville did prove,
[ 563 ]
}
that in that case it was a tribute to merit. The
argument against the Duke of Bedford's con-
duct, from what Lord Keppel, his uncle, would
have thought, had he been alive, is also irrela-
tive. But with some objections to particular
arguments, this letter displays an extent of
knowledge, a brilliancy of fancy, and a force
of genius that shew it to be Burke all over. *
The allusion (page 3.) to John Zısca's skin is
not-new to Burke: in 1782 he had applied it to
Mr. Fox, when ill, and, as Burke had some ap-
prehension, dangerously. The following pas-
sage on the loss of his son is. peculiarly pa-
thetic :
"Had it pleased God to continue to me the
hopes of succession, I should have been, accord-
ing to my mediocrity, and the mediocrity of
the age I live in, a sort of founder of a family; +
I should have left a son, who, in all the points
in which personal merit can be viewed, in sci-
ence, in erudition, in genius, in taste, in ho-
nour, in generosity, in humanity, in every li
beral sentiment, and every liberal accomplish-
* A reviewer having met a friend who had read this
letter before he himself had perused it, asked him what he
thought of it? The gentleman answered, "it is Burke all
over."
English Review, April 1796.
+ It is believed that a peerage had been intended for Burke;
but that, on the death of his son, the intention was aban-
doned, as an unavailing honour.
[564]
ment, would not have shewn himself inferior
to the Duke of Bedford, or to any of those
whom he traces in his line. His Grace very
soon would have wanted all plausibility in his
attack upon that provision which belonged more
to mine than to me. He would soon have sup-
plied every deficiency, and symmetrized every
disproportion. It would not have been for that
successor to resort to any stagnant wasting re-
servoir of merit in me, or in any ancestry. He
had in himself a salient, living spring of gene-
rous and manly action. Every day he lived he
would have repurchased the bounty of the
crown, and ten times more, if ten times more
he had received. He was made a public crea-
ture; and had no enjoyment whatever, but in
the performance of some duty. At this exigent
moment, the loss of a finished man is not easily
supplied.
"But a Disposer, whose power we are little
able to resist, and whose wisdom it behoves us
not at all to dispute, has ordained it in another
manner, and (whatever my querulous weak-
ness might suggest) a far better. The storm
has gone over me; and I lie like one of those
old oaks which the late hurricane has scattered
about me. I am stripped of all my honours;
I am torn up by the roots, and lie prostrate on
the earth! There, and prostrate there, I most
unfeignedly recognize the Divine justice, and
in some degree submit to it.”
3
·
1
•
1
[565]
}
{
In the letter to the Duke of Bedford be alludes
to the efforts of that nobleman, and other illustri-
ous characters, to stir up an opposition to the trea-
son and seditious-meeting bills. These bills he
thought highly expedient, and the last absolutely
necessary. Seditious meetings, he had been
long aware, had become very prevalent, espe-
cially those for the purpose of hearing dema-
gogues abuse the constitution, in what they
called lectures, Weak and ignorant as these
lecturers were, he does not, therefore, think
them harmless, and recommends to Govern-
ment effectually to shut up such schools of
rebellion and Jacobinism. Wisdom neglects
no agent of mischief, however personally con-
temptible. Edmund Burke advises Ministry
to guard against the machinations of John
Thelwall.
Burke now spent his time almost entirely in
the country. In his literary studies, in the
soothing company of his wife and friends, in
the pleasing prospect of being able to satisfy
every just demand, and to leave a competent
provision for the faithful and affectionate part-
ner of his cares, in the exercise of active bene-
volence, and in the consciousness of having
done his duty, he received all the consolation,
for the irreparable loss he had sustained, of
which he was susceptible. While he had em-
ployed every effort which a philanthropic heart
1
C
[566]
}
could prompt, and the wisest head could direct,
for stimulating civilized governments to com.
bat irreligion, impiety, immorality, inhuma-
nity, cruelty, and anarchy, he in a narrower
sphere relieved, to the utmost of his power,
those who had suffered exile and proscription
from the direful system. His heart, his house,
his purse, were open to the distressed emigrants.
Through his beneficent contribution and in-
fluence, a school was instituted in his neighbour-
hood, for the education of those whose parents,
from adherence to principle, were unable to
afford to their children useful tuition. This
school still continues to flourish, and by the
judicious choice of teachers, to answer the wise
and humane purposes of the institution.
While thus promoting the advantage of fo-
reign sufferers, he did not relax in his attention
to the humble and industrious of his own
countrymen. He continued to encourage and
superintend benefit clubs among the labourers
and mechanics of Beaconsfield, and was himself
a subscriber for their advantage. The object
was to encourage industry, to cherish affection,
to establish a fund of provision for the sick and
aged, which should not be merely elemosinary,
where frugality and activity should be the
means, in some degree, of independence, and to
cheer parents with the prospect of having their
children instructed in religion, virtue, and the
knowledge useful for their stations. The in-
[ 567 ]
stitution flourished under the auspices of its
founder. I conversed, at Beaconsfield, with
several of its members, soon after the author
was no more, and from their plain unlettered
sense received the strongest conviction of the
goodness of the plan and the wisdom of thẹ
regulations; and in the emotion of their hearts,
the expression of their countenance, the flow-
ing of their tears, saw much more than I could
have perceived from words,-their adoring gra.
titude and admiration.
These exercises of private beneficence did
not withdraw his mind from the consideration
of the public interest. When the appearance
of melioration in the principles and government
of France induced our Sovereign, desirous if
possible to restore to his people the blessings of
peace, to make overtures for conciliation with
the French Directory, Burke resumed his pen.
Having found that all his predictions from
the principles and first phenomena of the
French system had been verified, and been in
detail even worse than he had forboded,-that
they disavowed every religious and moral obli-
gation which regulates the conduct of men,-he
totally disapproved of agreements with them,
their probable adherence to which would pre-
suppose that they admitted the same rules of
morality as other men. His opinion he sup-
ported in his "Thoughts on the Prospect of a
Regicide Peace." Never had the force of his
>
7
[568]
។
wonderful genius more completely manifested
itself than in this work, which he wrote under
the idea that it was not long to precede his
death. Of its general excellence we cannot
have an abler description than in the introduc-
tion to the review of it by the " British Critic."*
"Accustomed as we are, in common with
most other reading men of this country, to con-
template with admiration the powers and re-
sources of Mr. Burke's extraordinary mind, we
have found ourselves more impressed than usual
with the letters now before us; more than by
any publication which has come from his pen
since the celebrated book of 1790, on the French
revolution. We have seen even more regular
and finished excellence in this than in that com-
position. The splendors of that tract were
sudden and astonishing; they flashed like light-
ning upon the reader, and left him afterwards,
for a time, in a state of comparative darkness;
but here all is luminous, and the fire of the ir-
radiating mind shines steadily from the begin-
ning to the end. The energy and beauty of
the language, the force and liveliness of the
images, the clearness and propriety of the his-
torical allusions and illustrations, all combine
to give an effect to these letters, not easily ri-
valled by the pen of any other writer. Age
* For December 1795, page 661.
1
[569]
has certainly not impaired the genius of Mr.
Burke; he asserts himself to be on the verge of
the grave: "whatever I write, (says he) is in
its nature testamentary;" yet he writes with
the vigour of a man who had just attained the
maturity of his talents.”
4
The amount of his reasoning is this:-Thẻ
system of France is impious, enormously wick-
ed, and destructive to all within its sphere :
we must either conquer it, or be destroyed our-
selves. Peace would enable it to operate ra
pidly to our ruin: let us, therefore, avoid peace.
Although the idea of eternal war with the Ja-
cobins must, to us of common apprehension,
appear extravagant, and ultimately ruinous,
yet it must be admitted that the views and con.
duct of the French rulers are such as to shew
that peace is at present impracticable, and to
justify Burke's reasoning as applicable to pre-
sent circumstances. Considering peace as the
most pernicious policy, he exhorts his country-
men to vigour and perseverance in combatting
an irremediable evil. His exhortation is very
eloquent, and, as far as respects present cir-
cumstances, replete with the soundest reason-
ing and most salutary lessons of conduct. To
encourage the exertion absolutely necessary
for the salvation of the country, he shews that
our resources are such as, if wisely directed to
the great and main object, may save the country.
4 D
"
[ $70 ]
His eloquence, founded in truth, addresses to
his fellow subjects the most powerful motives to
bring into action their physical and moral re-
sources.
"A dreadful evil impends. By en-
ergetic efforts we can be saved; by pusillani-
mity, relaxation, or indifference, we must be
ruined.'
>>
I shall forbear selecting passages from this
extraordinary work, because it has been so re-
cently in the hands of all readers.
"6
Several answers were attempted to Burke's
Thoughts on a Regicide Peace," some of
them very abusive. Burke, had, indeed, at
almost every period of his life been the object
of scurrility and invective: attacks which all
eminent men must pay, who speak and act ac-
cording to their own perceptions of truth and
of rectitude. The part that he took on the
French revolution, and on the dissemination of
Jacobinical doctrines in these realms, made
him detested by all those who wished these
doctrines to be reduced to practice. Catiline's
Rights of Man conspirators reviled Cicero,
Burke threw upon their designs light: they
loved darkness better. The description of the
English Jacobins in the " Regicide Peace," so.
just and so animated, inflamed that body with
rage. One of their apostles, in a rhapsody of
abuse, comprising almost every scurrilous term
the language could afford, has a conclusion,
which the Monthly Review" notices as very
"r
1
袋
​等
​[571]
laughable: « John Thelwall calls Edmund
Burke a scribbler!" The " Thoughts" under-
went in the " Monthly Review" the ablest
and most complete discussion that any work of
the author had undergone since Mackintosh's
answer to the "Reflexions."
Burke respected genius and learning, even in
an opponent. The author of the "Vindicia
Gallica" was invited to spend the Christmas
holidays, 1796, at Beaconsfield; where familiar
conversation added, if possible, to his admira-
tion of Burke. Soon after that time Burke
went to Bath, as his health was in a bad state;
but in the course of the Spring he recovered.
}
Mr. McCormick, in mentioning an advertise-
ment published by Mr. Owen, relatively to him
and Mr. Burke,* conceives that the severity of
the advertisement hastened the death of Burke.
If it would have been any glory to have accele-
rated to the world the loss of Edmund Burke,
the framer of the advertisement must rest his
fame on some other grounds. The advertise-
* The reader, no doubt, remembers a surreptitious copy,
of the " Regicide Peace" being offered to the public by
Mr. Owen,, but stopped by an injunction of Chancery,
preventing this invasion of literary property. Mr. Owen's
own account was, that he had been desired to account
for the profits of the Letter concerning the Duke of
Bedford, though not compelled to refund; that therefore
he published what did not belong to him. His own rea-
soning is sufficient to enable us to form a just judgment.
*
[·572]
ment was in November 1796, and Mr. Burke
was in good health four months after. The
petty attempts of malignity, during his life, tọ
disturb his peace were as unavailing as the
petty attempts of malignity after his death are
to blacken his character. On his return tq
Beaconsfield, he proceeded in the plan of
which the "Regicide Peace" was a part; and,
although Heaven was not pleased to permit him
to finish his task, there is in this, the last of his
works,* the same accuracy, minuteness, and ex-
tent of knowledge; the same sportiveness of
humour; the same brilliancy of fancy, vigour,
and variety of argument; the same grand com
prehensiveness of view, that had for forty
years distinguished the productions of Edmund
Burke. Having, in the former letters on the
same subject, established the necessity (at least
in the existing circumstances) of perseverance
in the war with France, and stated the suffi-
ciency of our resources, he in this part gives ą
complete enumeration of our means of carry-
ing on the contest, in the richness of the coun-
try and the spirit of its inhabitants. He
anxiously wishes that other nations might sq
awaken to a sense of their real interests, as to
combine in the most vigorous opposition to a
system carried on on the avowed maxims of
* And hitherto the last of his posthumous publications.
·
[573 ]
་
robbery; but his chief object was to rouze his
own country. His last advice is to succumb
not under difficulties:. "unite vigilance and
courage; guard against your ambitious and in-
solent foe, who will, if he can, enslave you,
his most detested, as most dreaded enemies, as
he has done others; but he cannot, enslave you,
if you are stedfastly determined to defend
yourselves." His health, from the beginning
of June, rapidly declined; but his body only,
not his mind, was affected. His understand-
ing operated with undiminished force and un-
contracted range: his dispositions retained their
sweetness and amiableness. He continued re-
gularly and strenuously to perform the duties
of religion and benevolence: his concern for
the happiness of his friends and the welfare of
mankind was equally vivid. His goodness even
extended to uneasiness on account of the fatigue
and trouble of attending his sick-bed, occa-
sioned to the inmates of his house. When his
favourite domestics, confidential friends, and
nearest connections, were eager to bestow the
nightly attendance of nurses, he solicitously
importuned them not to deprive themselves of
rest. Although his body was in a state of con-
stant and perceptible decay, yet was it without
pain. The lamp of life was consuming fast,
but was not violently extinguished. The
week in which he died he conversed with li-
terary and political friends, on various sub-
[574]
1
jects of knowledge, and especially on the aw-
ful posture of affairs. He repeatedly request-
ed their forgiveness, if ever he had offend-
ed them, and conjured them to make the same
request in his name to those of his friends that
were absent. Friday, July the 7th, he spent
the morning in a recapitulation of the most
important acts of his life, the circumstances in
which he acted, and the motives by which he
was prompted; shewed that his comprehensive
mind retained the whole series of public affairs,
and discussed his own conduct in the arduous
situations he had had to encounter. Dwelling.
particularly on the French revolution, and on
the separation from admired friends, which it
had occasioned, he spoke with pleasure of the
conscious rectitude of his intentions; and in-
treated that, if any unguarded asperity of his
had offended them, to believe that no offence
was meant. He expressed his forgiveness of
all who had, either on that subject or for any
other cause, endeavoured to injure him. The
evening he spent in less agitating conversation,
and in listening to the essays of Addison, his fa-
vourite author. The next morning, after some
time spent in devotion, and after bearing a most
pathetic and impressive testimony to the excellent
conduct of his wife in situations of difficulty and
distress, as well as through the whole course of
their relation, he fell into a slumber; and when
he awoke, being very placid and composed,
1
[575]
again desired to hear some of the elegant essays
of the Christian moralist. The last subjects
of his literary attention were the INCULCATIONS
OF PRACTICAL WISDOM, GUIDING TO TEMPORAL
AND ETERNAL HAPPINESS. He frequently had,
during his last illness, declared, what his inti-
mates knew well before, his thorough belief of
the Christian religion, his veneration for true
Christians of all persuasions; but his own pre-
ference of the articles of the church of Eng-
land. In that mode of faith he was educated,
and that he preserved through life. His end
was suited to the simple greatness of mind which
he displayed through life, every way unaffected,
without levity, without ostentation, full of na-
tural grace and dignity. He appeared neither
to wish nor to dread, but patiently and placidly
to await, the appointed hour of his dissolution.
He had conversed for some time, with his usual
force of thought and expression, on the gloomy
state of his country, for the welfare of which his
heart was interested to the last beat. His young
friend, Mr. Nagle, coming to his bed side, after
much interesting and tender conversation, he
expressed a desire to be carried to another
apartment. Mr. Nagle, with the assistance of
servants, was complying with his request, when
Mr. Burke, faintly uttering, "God bless you!"
fell back, and breathed his last, Saturday July
8th, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his age,
1
1 576 J
On Saturday the 15th he was interred. His
funeral was attended by the Duke of Portland,
Lord Fitzwilliam, Mr. Windham, Dr. Law-
rence, and many others of the nobility and
gentry. The pall-bearers were :-
The LORD CHANCELLOR,
Duke of PORTLAND,
'
Duke of DEVONSHIRE,
Earl FITZWILLIAM,
SPEAKER of the HOUSE of Earl of INCHIQUIN,
COMMONS,
Sir GILBERT ELLIOT,
The Rt. Hon. Mr. WINDHAM.
Not the least affecting part of this solemn
scene were the members of those benevolent in-
stitutions which the deceased had patronized, in
deep, though plain mourning, performing the
last duties to their revered benefactor. He was
buried in Beaconsfield church, and, by his own
desire, close to his son.
A sermon was preached in the church the
following Sunday, which characterized the de-
ceased sage and philanthropist with such pa-
thos as deeply to affect all the hearers.
On hearing of the death of a man whom
kindred mind taught him to prize higher than
most men could rate, Mr. Fox, proposed that
his remains should be deposited in the na-
tional Mausoleum of Genius; but was soon in-
formed that a clause in the departed sage's will
had requested the forbearance of posthumous
honours.
1
[ 577 ]
}
THE LAST WILL OF EDMUND BURKE.
"If my dear son and friend had survived me,
any will would have been unnecessary; but
since it has pleased God to call him to himself
before his father, my duty calls upon me to
make such a disposition of my worldly effects
as seems to my best judgnient most equitable
and reasonable; therefore I, Edmund Burke,
late of the parish of St. James, Westminster,
though suffering under sore and inexpressible
affliction, being of sound and disposing mind,
do make my last will and testament in man-
ner following:-
"First, according to the ancient, good, and
laudable custom, of which my heart and un-
derstanding recognize the propriety, I be-
queath' my soul to God, hoping for his mercy
through the only merits of our Lord and Sa-
viour Jesus Christ. My body I desire, if I
should die in any place very convenient for its
transport thither (but not otherwise) to be bu-
ried in the church, at Beaconsfield, near to the
bodies of my dearest brother and my dearest
son, in all humility praying that, as we have
lived in perfect unity together, we may toge-
ther have a part in the resurrection of the just.
“I wish my funeral to be (without any punc-
tiliousness in that respect) the same as that of
my brother, and to exceed it as little as possi-
ble in point of charge, whether on account of
4 E
2
[578]
1
my family or of any others who would go to
a greater expence; and I desire, in the same
manner and with the same qualifications, that
no monument beyond a middle-sized tablet,
with a small and simple inscription on the
church-wall, or on the flag stone, be erected.
I say this, because I know the partial kindness
to me of some of my friends. But I have had,
in my life-time, but too much of noise and
compliment,
"As to the rest, it is uncertain what I shall
have after the discharge of my debts, which,
when I write this, are very great. Be that as it
may, my will concerning my worldly substance
is short. As my entirely beloved, faithful, and
affectionate wife did, during the whole time in
which I lived most happily with her, take on
her the charge and management of my affairs,
assisted by her son, whilst God was pleased to
lend him to us, and did conduct them often in a
state of much derangement and embarrass-
ment, with a patience and prudence which pro-
bably have no example, and thereby left my
mind free to prosecute my public duty or my
studies, or to indulge in my relaxations, or to
cultivate my friends, at my pleasure; so, on
my death, I wish things to continue as sub-
stantially as they have always done. I there-
fore, by this my last and only will, devise, leave,
and bequeath, to my entirely beloved and in-
comparable wife, Jane Mary Burke, the whole
3
+
[579]
real estate of which I shall die seised, whether
land, rents, or houses, in absolute fee-simple;
as also all my personal estate, whether stock,
furniture, plate, money, or securities for mo-
ney, annuities for lives or for years, be the said
estate of what nature, quality, extent or de-
scription it may, to her sole uncontrouled pos-
session and disposal, as her property in any
manner which may seem proper to her, to pos-
sess and dispose of the same, whether it be real
estate or personal estate, by her last will or
otherwise. It being my intention that she may
have as clear and uncontrouled a right and title
thereto and therein as I possess myself, as to
the use, expenditure, sale, or devise. I hope
these words are sufficient to express the abso-
lute, unconditioned, and unlimited right of
complete ownership I mean to give to her to
the said lands and goods; and I trust that no
words or surplusage or ambiguity may vitiate
this my clear intention. There are no persons
who have a right, or, I believe, a disposition to
complain of this bequest, which I have duly
weighed, and made on a proper consideration
of my duties, and the relations in which I
stand.
>
"I also make my wife, Jane Mary Burke
aforesaid, my sole executrix of this my last will;
knowing that she will receive advice and as.
sistance from my excellent friends Dr. Walker
King and Dr. Lawrence, to whom I recom-
[ 58D ]
50%
mend her and her concerns, though that, per-
haps, is needless, as they are as much attached
to her as they are to me. I do it only to `mark
my special confidence in their affection, skill,
and industry.
"I wish that my dear wife may, as soon after
my decease as possible (which, after what has
happened, she will see with constancy and re-
signation) make her will, with the advice and
assistance of the two persons I have named.
But it is my wish also, that she will not think
herself so bound up by any bequests she may
make in the said will, and which, while she
lives, can be only, intentions, as not during her
life to use her property, with all the liberty I
have given her over it, just as if she had writ-
ten no will at all; but in every thing to follow
the directions of her own equitable and chari-
table mind, and her own prudent and mea-
sured understanding.
<<
Having thus committed every thing to her
discretion, I recommend (subject always to
that discretion) that if I should not, during my
life, give or secure to my dear niece, Mary C,
Haviland, wife of my worthy friend Captain
Haviland, the sum of 10001. or an annuity equi-
valent to it, that she would bestow upon her
that sum of money, or that annuity, condi-
tioned and limited in such manner as she, my
wife aforesaid, may think proper, by a devise in
her will or otherwise, as she may find most con-
2
{
[381]
#
venient to the situation of her affairs, without
pressure upon her, during her life. My wife
put me in mind of this, which I now recom-
mend to her. I certainly some years ago gave
my niece reason to expect it; but I was not
able to execute my intentions. If I do this in
my life-time, this recommendation goes for
nothing.
}
"As to my other friends and relations, and
companions, through life, and especially the
friends and companions of my son, who were
the dearest of mine, I am not unmindful of
what I owe them. If I do not name them all
here, and mark them with tokens of my re-
membrance, I hope they will not attribute it to
unkindness, or to a want of a due sense of their
merits towards me. My.old friend and faithful
companion, Will. Burke, knows his place in my
heart. I do not mention him as executor or
assistant. I know that he will attend to my
wife; but I chuse the two I have mentioned, as,
from their time of life, of greater activity. I
recommend him to them.
"In the political world I have made many
connections, and some of them amongst per-
sons of high rank. Their friendship, from po.
litical, became personal to me: and they have
shewn it in a manner more than to satisfy the
utmost demands that could be made from my
love and sincere attachment to them. They
are the worthiest people in the kindgdom: their
582
intentions are excellent, and I wish them every
kind of success. I bequeath my brother-in-
law, John Nugent, and the friends in my poor
son's list, which is in his mother's hands, to
their protection: as to them and the rest of my
companions, who constantly honoured and
chused our house as our inmates, I have put
down their names in a list, that my wife should
send them the usual remembrance of little
mourning rings, as a token of my remembrance.
In speaking of my friends, to whom I owe so
many obligations, I ought to name especially
Lord Fitzwilliam, the Duke of Portland, and
the Lord Cavendishes, with the Duke of De-
yonshire, the worthy head of that family.
"If the intimacy which I have had with
others has been broken off by political differ-
ence on great questions concerning the state of
things existing and impending, I hope they will
forgive whatever of general human infirmity, or
of my own particular infirmity, has entered
into that contention. I heartily entreat their
forgiveness. I have nothing farther to say.
C
Signed and sealed as my last will and
testament, this 11th day of August, 1794,
being written all with my own hand.
"In the presence of
DUPONT,
WM. WEBSTER,
EDMUND BURKE.” (L. S.)
WALKER KING.”
[583]
r
A
A
"On reading the above will, I have nothing
to add or essentially alter; but one point may
want to be perfected.and explained. In leaving
my lands and hereditaments to my wife, I find
that I have omitted the words which in deeds.
create an inheritance in law. Now, though I
think them hardly necessary in a will, yet to
obviate all doubts, I explain the matter in a
Codicil which is annexed to this.
´(Signed)
EDMUND BURKE.”
THE CODICIL.
"I Edmund Burke, of the parish of Beacons-
field, in the county of Bucks, being of sound
and disposing judgment and memory, make
this my last will and testament, in no sort re-
voking, but explaining and confirming, a will
made by me, and dated the 11th of August,
1794, in which will I have left, devised, and
bequeathed, all my worldly effects, of whatever
nature and quality the same may be, whatever
lands, tenements, houses, freehold and lease-
hold interests, pensions for lives or years, ar-
rears of the same, legacies, or other debts due
to me, plate, household stuff, books, stock in
cattle and horses, and utensils of farming, and
all other my goods and chattels, to my dear
wife, Jane Mary Burke, in as full and perfect
manner as the same might be devised, convey-
ed, or transferred to her by any act or instru-
ment whatsoever, with such recommendations
{
as in my will aforesaid are made, and with a
桌
​[584]
t
-wish that in the discharge of my debts the course
hitherto pursued may be as nearly as possible
observed. Sensible, however, that in payment
of debt no exact rule can be preserved, the
same is therefore left to her discretion, with the
advice of our friends, whom she will naturally
consult. The reason of my making this will
or codicil to my former will, is from my having
omitted, in devising by that will my lands and
hereditaments to my wife aforesaid, the full
and absolute property thereof, and therein I
have omitted the legal words of inheritance.
Now, though I think those words, however ne-
cessary in a deed, are not so in a will; yet, to
prevent all questions, I do hereby devise all my
lands, tenements, and hereditaments, as well as
all other property that may be subject to a
strict rule of law in deeds, and which would
pass if undevised to my heirs, I say I do devise
the same lands, tenements, and hereditaments,
to my wife, Jane Mary Burke, and her heirs
for ever, in pure, absolute, and unconditional
fee simple.
"I have now only to recommend to the
kindness of my Lord Chancellor (Lord Lough-
borough), to his Grace the Duke of Portland,
to the Most Honourable the Marquis of Buck-
ingham, to the Right Honourable William
Windham, and to Dr. Lawrence, of the Com-
mons, and Member of Parliament, that they
will, after my death, continue their protec-
[ 585]
4
tion and favour to the emigrant school at Penn,
and will entreat, with a weight on which I dare
not presume, the Right Honourable William
Pitt to continue the necessary allowance which
he has so generously and chafitably provided
for those unhappy children of meritorious pa-
rents; and that they will superintend the same,
which I wish to be under the immediate care
and protection of Dr. Walker King and Dr.
Lawrence; and that they will be pleased to exert
their influence to place the said young persons
in some military corps, or some other service,
as may best suit their dispositions and capacities,
praying God to bless their endeavours.
""
Signed and sealed as a codicil to my
will, or an explanation and confirmation
thereof, agreeably to the note placed at
the end of it, this 30th day of January,
1795..
** In the presence of
WALKER KING,
RICHARD BURKE,
EDWARD NAGLE.”
}
EDMUND BURKE.”
Mr. Burke was about five feet ten inches high,
well made and muscular; of that firm and com-
pact frame that denotes more strength than
bulk. His countenance, I am told, had been
in his youth handsome. The expression of his
face was less striking than one, who had not
4 F
î
[586]
'
1
seen him, would have anticipated. During the
vigour of his age he had excelled at the manly
exercises most common in Ireland, especially
leaping, pitching the bar, and throwing the
stone.
No charge has been more frequently made
againſt Burke than one that would affect either
his intellectual or moral character, or both.
This was the charge of INCONSISTENCY.
The unjustness of this charge has, I trust,
appeared through this narration. The more
fully we consider his principles, reasonings, and
conduct, the more minutely we examine the
parts, the more comprehensively we contem-
plate the whole, the more completely shall we
see that Burke has been, in his intellectual pro-
cesses, in his moral and political conduct, uni-
formly CONSISTENT. "LET EXPERIENCE BE YOUR
GUIDE, AVOID UNTRIED SPECULATIONS."? That
maxim governed his reasonings respecting
America. <<
Experience (he said) has shewn
you that your former mode of treating your
colonies has been beneficial; do not change
that mode for an untried theory of taxation."
Experience taught him that religion was
friendly to virtue and order. The lesson taught
by his exposure of the Bolingbroke philosophy
"Do not for speculations of infidelity
abandon those principles of religion which ex-
perience has taught you to be necessary to good
government, virtue, and happiness." In his
was,
[587]
ů
f
letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol he speaks the
same language. "Some men propose untried
speculations on the rights of man as the foun-
dation of government.. I reprobate these no-
tions, because not sanctioned by experience."
On the French revolution, his doctrine is, "reli-
gion, justice, and regard to property, have been
proved by experience to be necessary to the
well being of society. I reprobate a system
that disregards these principles; because, fol-
lowing my constant guide, experience, I per-
ceive that the new theory and practice must be
pernicious." He preserved consistency, by vary-
ing his means to secure the unity of his end:
when the equipoise of the vessel in which he
şailed was endangered by overloading it upon
one side, he carried the weight of his reasons
to that which might preserve the equipoise.
These were the rules of his judgment and con-
duct. Adopting and applying these rules
from the beginning to the end of his intellectual,
moral, and political efforts, EDMUND BURKE WAS
CONSISTENT.
Having already endeavoured, in the course
of this narrative, to exhibit the prominent fea-
tures of Burke's intellectual and moral charac-
ter, I shall conclude with a brief summary,
which will merely collect my scattered obser-
vations.
Edmund Burke was endowed by nature, in a
most extraordinary degree, with that combina-
Thi
}
[ 588 ]
}
tion of powers which constitutes genius: an un-
derstanding rapidly penetrating, energetic, com-
prehensive, and profound; a memory, quick, re-
tentive, and capacious; a fancy vivid, versatile,
rapid, and forcible. Art and discipline improved
these powers, and furnished them with ample
materials. Those who have partially considered
the operations of Burke's genius have supposed
his fancy to have predominated; but a more
thorough acquaintance with his mental opera-
tions would convince them that, though his
fancy ranges through every region of knowledge,
and soars to every height of science, for amuse-
ment, embellishment, allusion, or analogy; yet
reason is the faculty that presides in his intel-
lectual processes. Whatever sportive, beauti-
ful, or grand imagery may decorate his works,
the body is history and deduction, antecedent
and consequent. Disciplined by the soundest
philosophy, his ratiocinative operations proceed
from principles the most efficacious in the in-
vestigation of truth and conveyance of instruc
tion. The great guide of his reasoning is Ex-
PERIENCE; an experience not merely of model,
but of law, comprehending not merely indivi-
dual governments and societies, but the con-
stitution of nian. This was the light by which
he saw the effects of Bolingbroke's speculations.
'This shewed him the consequences of the new
philosophy of France, sixteen years before it
was reduced to practice. This pointed out the
[ 589 ]
danger of the new theories respecting Ame-
rica, of Price's and Priestley's new doctrines
on government. This gave him from the
commencement a complete view of the con-
sequences of the French revolution. His pow-
erful understanding, besides being guided by
the best director as to the objects of pursuit
and rejection, was in all its efforts compre-
hensive. It carried its views to all the parts
and to the whole; to causes and effects; to
adjuncts; to every relation or circumstance
which might affect the subject in question. This
COMPREHENSIVENESS OF CONSIDERATION is manifest
in his survey of the internal state and history of
this country;-in his "Thoughts on the present
Discontents;" in his examinations of our sys-
tems respecting America; his plan of œcono-
my; his views of the affairs of India; and,
above all, in his conclusions concerning the
revolution of France.
. The materials with which a mind so endowed,
so guided, and so operating, was furnished,
were as extensive as the history and principles
of physical and moral science, as the history
and practice of art. Great as were his pow-
ers of acquirement, successfully as they had
been exerted, his means of communication were
no less efficacious. No orator ever surpassed
him in the whole constituents of eloquence, and
in the most important few equalled him,-in the
information, principles, moral and political les-
[590 ]
}
}
sons, which his speeches and writings convey.
If we judge from detached parts of his works,
there may be inequalities found. In the struc-
ture of St. Paul's there may be stones less smooth
than some in a small cottage. We judge not
from the minute parts, but from the whole of
the massy, strong, magnificent, and sublime
work.
If a common understanding may venture to
notice in such a mind as his what it thinks the
most prominent features, I should say that an
understanding of the most extraordinary force,
directing its exertions to the whole compass of
phenomena, and guided, in the conclusions it
draws from that wide range of premises, by
the direction of experience, has been among the
excellencies which have most peculiarly distin-
guished Edmund Burke: that poetically rich,
splendid, beautiful, and grand, as his imagery
is, he is CHIEFLY EMINENT FOR THE DISCOVERY OF
MOMENTOUS TRUTH, AND THE COMMUNICATION OF
MOMENTOUS INSTRUCTION. A genius that has
shewn a fitness for any species of exertion; has
rarely been more frequently and completely ex-
erted to render men wiser, better, and happier.
The more closely the intellectual history and
principles of this wonderful personage are ex-
amined, the more thoroughly, I may venture
to assert, shall we be convinced that, with every
power, and numberless exertions, in sublime
}
}
C
दे
*
[ 591 ។
poetry, his principal and most successful ef
forts have been in sublime practical philosophy.
The qualities of his heart were no less amia-
ble and estimable than his talents were astonish-
ing:-benevolent, just, temperate, magnani-
mous. He loved his country, loved its consti-
tution, because he believed it the best adapted.
for its happiness: at different times, from the
same principle, he supported different members
of it, when he thought the one or other likely
to be overbalanced. During the prevalence of
the Bute plans, dreading the influence of the
Crown, he supported the People; and, for the
same cause, during the American war. After
the overthrow of the French monarchy and
aristocracy, and the dissemination in Britain of
the principles that had destroyed these orders,
apprehending similar effects, if not vigorously
opposed in England, he strenuously supported
the monarchy and aristocracy. Thus discri-
minately patriotic in public life, in his private
relations his conduct was highly meritorious.
A fond and attentive husband, an affectionate
and judiciously indulgent father, a sincere
friend, at once fervid and active, a liberal and
*
By poetry the reader will perceive that I mean creative
fancy: the sense in which Lord Bacon uses it, when deriving
the three great species of composition, history, poetry, and
philosophy, from their sources in the understanding, memory,
fancy, and reason.
[592 1
kind master, an agreeable neighbour, a zealous
and bountiful patron, he diffuscd delight and
happiness. His principles were as strict and
his habits as virtuous as his dispositions were
kind.
His manners were pleasing, insinuating, and
engaging, in all companies, but especially in
the exercise of hospitality in his own house.
His ardent sensibility rendered his temper irri-
table: his rage, though violent, was not lasting.
The contention of active politics called that in-
firmity forward much more frequently than a
calmer situation might have done.
Such only were the trivial foibles that his
enemies could with truth alledge, to counter-
balance his qualities and talents. With so little
alloy, and so much sterling value, in realms in
which great talents are frequent, and great vir-
tues not rare, in the usual course of intellectual
and moral excellence, centuries may pass be-
fore Providence again bestow an
EDMUND BURKE.
FINIS.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 03078 0400
B 660,782
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་།
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