appointment of private secretary to the Marquis of Rockingham, and was returned to parliament, as member for Wendover in Buckinghamshire. In the following session, hel "seized the first opportunity of taking an active part in the discussion concerning America. The details are not otherwise known than from a few notes taken by Lord Claremont. Mr. Pitt, who professed to have no specific objection to the Ministry, though he would not give them his confidence, immediately followed Mr. Burke in the debate, and complimented him by observing, that the young member had proved a very able advocate: he had himself intended to enter at length into the details, but he had been anticipated with so much ingenuity and eloquence, that there was little left for him to say: he congratulated him on his success, and his friends on the value of the acquisition they had made.' Many of the acquaintance of Mr. Burke were in the gallery purposely to witness the first display of his powers; one of whom was Mr. Murphy; and they all, on his quitting the house, crowded round him expressing the greatest pleasure at the result, the praise of Mr. Pitt being of itself, in the general opinion, a passport to fame. After this he spoke frequently and at length." pp. 95, 96. The administration was shortlived; and soon after its dissolution we find Mr. Burke in Ireland, paying attention to the antiquities and language of his native country. On the dissolution of parliament, he was invited to become a candidate for the representation of Bristol. It was on this occasion, that, after being declared successful, he delivered his memorable reply to a vexatious question, which was put to him by an elector; namely, whether he meant to vote in the house according to his own opinion or to the instructions of his constituents. "Parliament is not a congress of ambassadors from different and hostile states; which interests each must maintain as an agent and advocate against other agents and advocates; but parliament is a deliberative assembly of one nation with one interest, that of the whole; where not local purposes, not local prejudices, ought to guide, but the general good, resulting from the general reason of the whole. You choose a member indeed; but when you have chosen him, he is not member of Bristol, but he is a member of parlia ment.. If the local constituent should have an interest, or should form a hasty opinion, evidently opposite to the real good of the rest of the community, the member for that place ought to be as far as any other from any endeavour to give it effect. "On another occasion (1780), he told them-'I did not obey your instructions: no. I conformed to the instructions of truth and nature, and maintained your interest, against your opinions, with a constancy that became me. A representative worthy of you ought to be a person of stability. I am to look indeed to your opinions; but to such opinions as you and I must look to five years hence. I was not to look at the flash of the day. I knew that you chose me, in my place, along with others, to be a pillar of the state, and not a weathercock on the top of the edifice, exalted for my levity and versatility, and of no use but to indicate the shiftings of every popular gale.' pp. 180, 181. In the ensuing session he introduced his thirteen celebrated propositions for conciliating America; which were followed by other attempts on his part to prevent the fatal rupture. In this parliament he also acquiesced in a temporary secession of the Rockingham party, and afterwards made his first attack on the administration of India. At the next general election, finding a strong resistance to his pretensions at Bristol, arising from the independence of his conduct in parliament, he resolved at once to give way to it. "Were I fond of a contest,' said he,' I have the means of a sharp one in my hands. But I have never been remarkable for a bold, active, and sanguine pursuit of advantages that are personal to myself.' "The resolution to decline being immediately taken, and as readily declared in another speech, brief, but expressive, he thanked the electors for the favours they had already conferred, and honestly confessed his regret that they would not continue them; adding, that in sorrow, not in anger, he took his leave; in person, as he deemed most proper, rather than by letter as was most customary; for as in the face of day he had accepted their trust, in the face of day he accepted their dismission, conscious that he had nothing to be ashamed of. The appeal was very powerful, and the scene most affecting; increased by the feelings of many of the au ditory on the sudden death of one of the candidates; shewing us,' said Mr. Burke, at the moment, no less truly than pathetically, 'what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!' pp. 239, 240, In 1782 the Rockingham party again came into power. Mr. Burke accepted, on this occasion, the office of paymaster of the forces; in which station he effected a reform in the emoluments of several of the offices of state, which, under all the circumstances, is without a parallel. "The bill to regulate his own office was deemed a species of feat in ingenuity, labour, and knowledge of business; the system being so complicated, and the abuses so ancient, that a universal feeling prevailed among his predecessors, down to the lowest clerks, of the hopelessness of the one being simplified, or the other amended. He nevertheless succeeded in it-sur rendering to the public the interest and other advantages accruing from the enormous sum of 1,000,000/., which was not unfrequently the amount of the balance in hand. His disinterestedness did not stop there. As Treasurer of Chelsea Hospital he became entitled to the profits of clothing the pensioners, amounting to 700. per annum, and, by a new agreement with the contractor, managed to save 6007. more; these sums, which as regular perquisites of office might have been enjoyed without impropriety or notice, he generously threw into the public treasury." pp. 264, 265. This performance was almost the only "feat" of that administration; the death of the Marquis of Rockingham, and accession of Lord Shelburne to power, having very shortly put an end to it. The following year was memora ble for the commencement of the long-continued impeachment of Mr. Hastings. The extravagance of Mr. Burke's invective during this trial has been a subject of too much remark to be treated by us with any hope of throwing additional light upon it. The warmth, however, which he displayed, though mixed up perhaps with an ambition for oratorical fame, was evidently the warmth of indignation at alleged oppressions; and, standing forth as the manager of a public impeach ment promoted by the house of commons, he felt himself under no obligation to restrain feelings which conscientious convic a tion of the truth of the charges inspired in his own bosom, and which that conviction rendered him anxious to communicate to the minds of others. Still we are far from wish ing to see public advocates indulge in this virulent tone. It is necessary indeed to prosecute public charges with the ardour requisite to convict the offender; but a feeling of humanity and a religious sense of our own weakness should dispose us to pity an offender, though the claims of justice require us to visit the offence with severity and this feeling would chasten the stern tone of virtuous reprobation by representing the laws of God as more concerned in the outrage than even the violated laws of men. We are not determin : ing in this place on the merits of Mr. Hastings's case, but confine our remarks simply to Mr. Burke's share in the prosecution. The line which he took on the subject of the French Revolution, and the separation from Mr. Fox, which was caused by it, are the next points in Mr. Burke's history which call for especial notice: but they are so well known, and have been so fully discussed, that we shall not enter into them largely. For the sake however of illustrating the caution with which Mr. Burke formed his opinions on this as on other great questions, though, when formed, he was inflexible and often intemperate in maintaining them, it may not be unacceptable to produce a few extracts from a letter to Lord Charlemont, dated 9th of August 1789, about three weeks after the storming of the Bastille, in which he opens his mind without reserve. "As to us here, our thoughts of every thing at home are suspended by our astopishment at the wonderful spectacle which is exhibited in a neighbouring and rival country. What spectators, and actors! England gazing with astonishment at a French struggle for liberty, and not knowing whether to blame or to applaud. I saw something like it in progress for seveThe thing, indeed, though I thought ral years, has still somewhat in it paradoxical and mysterious. The spirit it is impossible not to admire: but the old Parisian ferocity has broken out in a shock ing manner. It is true, that this may be no more than a sudden explosion: if so, no indication can be taken from it; but if it should be character, rather than accident, then that people are not fit for liberty, and must have a strong hand, like that of their former masters, to coerce them. "Men must have a certain fund of natural moderation to qualify them for freedom, else it becomes noxious to them selves. What will be the event, it is hard, I think, still to say. To form a solid constitution requires wisdom as well as spirit; and whether the French have wise heads among them, or if they possess such, whether they have authority equal to their wisdom, is yet to be seen. the mean time, the progress of this whole affair is one of the most curious matters of speculation that ever was exhibited." pp. 345, 346. In Very shortly, indeed only two months afterwards, in writing to M. de Mononville, a member of the National Assembly, who requested his opinion on their affairs, he penned his thoughts with his characteristic decision of mind and largeness of view, though still suspending his judgment on the uncertain issue of events not as yet fully developed.— "Permit me then to continue our conversation, and to tell you what the freedom is that I love. It is not solitary, unconnected, individual, selfish liberty. It is social freedom. It is that state of things in which the liberty of no man, and no body of men, is in a condition to trespass on the liberty of any person, or any description of persons, in society. This kind of liberty is indeed but another name for justice, ascertained by wise laws, and secured by well-constructed institutions." p. 349. "When therefore, I shall learn that in France, the citizen, by whatever description he is qualified, is in a perfect state of legal security, with regard to his life, to his property, to the uncontrolled disposal of his person, to the free use of his industry and his faculties :-when I hear that he is protected in the beneficial enjoyment of the estates, to which, by the course of settled law, he was born, or is provided with a fair compensation for them; that he is maintained in the full fruition of the advantages belonging to the state and condition of life in which he had lawfully engaged himself, or is supplied with an equitable equivalent;-when I am assured that a simple citizen may decently express his sentiments upon public affairs, without hazard to his life or liberty, even though against a predominant and fashionable opinion;-when I know all this of France, I shall be as well pleased as every one must be, who has not forgot the general communion of mankind." pp. 350, 351. A little later, writing to the same individual, he speaks somewhat more plainly. "In all appearance, the new system is a most bungling and unworkmanlike performance. I confess I see no principle of coherence, co-operation, or just subordination of parts in this whole project, nor any the least aptitude to the conditions and wants of the state to which it is applied, nor any thing well imagined for the formation, provision, or direction of a common force." "I cannot think, with you, that the Assembly have done much. They have, indeed, undone a great deal; and so completely broken up their country as a state, that I assure you there are few here such antigallicans as not to feel some pity on the deplorable view of the wreck of France. I confess to you, that till I saw it, I could not conceive that any men in public could have shewn so little mercy to their country. "You say, my dear sir, they read Montesquieu. I believe not. If they do, they do not understand him. He is often obscure, sometimes misled by system; but, on the whole, a learned and ingenious writer, and sometimes a most profound thinker. Sure it is that they have not followed him in any one thing they have done. Had he lived at this time, he would certainly be among the fugitives from France. With regard to the other writers you speak of, I do believe the directors of the present system to be influenced by them. Such masters! Such scholars! Who ever dreamt of Voltaire and Rousseau as legislators? The first has the merit of writing agreeably; and nobody has ever united blasphemy and obscenity so happily together. The other was not a little deranged in his intellects, to my almost certain knowledge. But he saw things in bold and uncommon lights, and he was very eloquent.-But as to the rest, I have read long since the Contract Social. It has left very few traces upon my mind. I thought it a performance of little or no merit; and little did I conceive that it could ever make revolutions, and give law to nations. But so it is." pp. 353, 354. The caution and practical regard to what he considered to be the actual state of things, which appears in the foregoing extracts, were manifested by Mr. Burke on other occasions; as, for instance, when his support was solicited to a scheme for parliamentary reform. The service, however, which Mr. Burke rendered to the cause of public order and morals against the pernicious errors of the French Revolution, is the last which he performed for his country. Soon afterwards, the death of his son, on whom he had fixed his fondest hopes, overwhelmed him with a grief from which he scarcely recovered. The torrent and tempest of his sorrow are described as almost terrific. The circumstances of this young man's death were deeply affecting. "The poor sufferer passed the night preceding his dissolution in a very restless and agitated state, though resigned to that decree which was so soon to separate him from the world; but in the morning, hearing the loud lamentations of his parents in an adjoining room, and anxious as far as in his power to relieve their agony by seeming better than he really was, he rose with some assistance, and, leaning on the arm of the faithful housekeeper (Mrs. Webster) and her husband, proceeded to the door of the room in which they were sitting, desiring his supporters to quit him before they came within sight of his father and mother-a kind of affectionate imposition meant to impress them with a belief of his gaining strength. He even made a vigorous effort to tread the room with a firm step, walking across it to the window and thence towards where they sate in the deepest distress viewing him with intense anxiety, but unable to utter a word. To some efforts which he made to console them, excessive grief still prevented any reply;- Speak to me, my dear father,' said he, in a pathetic tone; 'speak to me of religion, speak to me of morality,speak to me of indifferent matters, for I derive much satisfaction from what you say. Shortly afterwards, hearing some noise without doors, he inquired whether it was rain, adding immediately, No; it is but the wind whistling through the trees, and then repeated in a solemn manner three lines from Adam's hymn to the morning, which had been favourites with his uncle Richard, and were repeated by him more than once just before his death: 'His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship, wave.' "He repeated them a second time with increased solemnity,and had scarcely finished the concluding word of the passage, when the hand of death smote him, and, staggering into the arms of his father, was carried in a state of insensibility to bed, where shortly afterwards without reviving he breathed his last. "The grief of this most fond and most affectionate of fathers afforded perhaps one of the most heart-rending scenes ever witnessed in real life, or conceived by the strongest imagination, or described by the pen of fiction; for it was, as an eye-witness and friend of the family used to say, 'truly terrific. His bursts of affliction were of fearful force, so overwhelming indeed as to fright and almost to paralyze those who were around him. For a moment he would be calm, but it was the calm of unutterable despair, when suddenly CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 293. a whirlwind of agony arising in his mind, he would burst from all control, rush into the chamber where his dead son was laid, and dash himself with violence, as it happened, on the bed, or on the lifeless body, or on the floor, calling, in the most affecting exclamations, for the hope of his age, the stay of his life, the only comfort of his declining and now joyless years. It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of this scene, which was frequently repeated during the first day, and exhibited the very desperation of grief; but a promise was then exacted from him, which he kept, not again to go into the room where the corpse remained." pp. 443-445. He drooped ever afterwards; and, though he put forth many able productions, which shewed that the decline of his life brought with it no decline of his powers, he rather shrunk from publicity, and regarded himself as a desolate old man. pension was procured for him, which he did not enjoy long. He died in July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. A of Mr. Burke, we know not any In looking back upon the history points with which we are more struck, than his sterling honesty, the masculine and practical character of his understanding, and the singleness of view with which he devoted the whole energy of his wonderful mind to the pursuit of any object which he had once deliberately undertaken. A deeper acquaintance with the depravity of our na ture, and a nearer communion with the promptings of his own heart, would probably have abated somewhat of the fervour of his resentments, kindled as they were by public objects and not debased by any considerable admixture of private and personal feeling. In religion indeed, as well as in politics, he is represented to have been sincere, and devoutly attached to the ordinances of our established church, though tolerant of the rights of conscience in others. But his is not the only instance of the tendency of a political life to absorb the mind of a statesman so entirely as to cast into the shade those infinitely higher interests which belong 2 P to immortal beings, and to tempt him to forget, that liberty itself, and good government, and well administered institutions, are not the chief good of man, though they are con ducive to it, and deserve an attachment all but supreme. Another feature in Mr. Burke's character, was his generous and disinterested liberality to ingenious persons in distress. Mr. Barry the painter had no claim on his patronage, but found in him a steady and unvarying friend. Another literary adventurer is said to have applied to him with "no introduction but his own letter no recommendation but his distress; but hearing that he was a good man, and presuming to think him a great one,' he applied to him with a degree of success far beyond any possible expectations he could form. Mr. Burke, with scanty means himself, and unbribed by a dedication, gave him his friendship, criticism, and advice, introduced him to some of the first men in the country, and very speedily became the means of pushing him on to fame and fortune." p. 247. Another well-known anecdote is related of him, which illustrates at once the benignity and the purity of his character. "Walking home late one evening from the House of Commons, Mr. Burke was accosted by one of those unfortunate women who linger out existence in the streets, with solicitations, which, perceiving they were not likely to have effect, she changed her manner at once, and begged assistance in a very pathetic and seemingly sincere tone. In reply to inquiries, she stated herself to have been lady's maid in a respectable family, but had been driven through gradations of misery to her present forlorn state; which she confessed to be wretched beyond description, and looked forward to death as her only relief. The conclusion of the tale brought Mr. Burke to his own door. Turning round with much solemnity of manner, he addressed her, Young woman, you have told a pathetic story; whether true or not, is best known to yourself; but tell me, have you a serious and settled wish to quit your present way of life, if you have the opportunity of so doing?" Indeed, sir, I would do any thing to quit it. Then come in,' was the reply. Here, Mrs. Webster, said he to the housekeeper, who lived in the family for about thirty years; here is a new recruit for the kitchen: take care of her for the night, and let her have every thing suitable to her condition, till we can inform Mrs. Burke of the matter.'-She remained a short time under the eye of the family, was then provided with a place, and turned out afterwards a well-behaved woman." pp. 248, 249. Indeed, Mr. Burke was one of those rare characters who, being great without effort, are the same in public life as in private; and he thus justified that fine compliment, paid to him by Dr. Johnson, "If Burke were to go into a stable to give directions about his horse, the ostler would say, 'We have had an extraordinary man here.' p. 488. As a proof that on ordinary occasions he was accustomed to take the same plain and common-sense view of things which characterised his decisions on matters of wider concern, we may refer to the advice he gave to Mr. Barry early in the career of that eccentric and ill-fated artist, whose calamitous destiny he almost prophetically described to him. The same firmness of mind which led Mr. Burke always to regard things as they are, not as they may be represented, seems to have rendered him negligent of misrepresentation and calumny, when directed against himself. "The rumours of his being a Roman Catholic, of being educated at St. Omer's, and others of the same stamp, had, it seems, reached Bristol after the riots in London; and being believed by many of the electors in a certain sphere of life, Mr. Noble begged his sanction to write to Mr. Shackleton to receive from him, as his preceptor, a formal contradiction of them. The reply was a negative; To people who can believe such stories,' said he, it will be in vain to offer explanations. His friend repeated the recommendation more pressingly: If I cannot live down these contemptible calumnies, my dear friend, I shall never deign to contradict them in any other manner,' was again the answer." p. 243. Though we consider it was the moral strength of Mr. Burke's character, as exhibited in the consistency and (we might even say) unity of his public proceedings, that gave him an influence, which no intellectual superiority, or mere oramand, his eloquence (it must be torical eminence, could alone comadmitted) was of no common order. |