(UNIVERSITT) CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM NOV 1 6 1955 H X rv /C. /l//is^ "^14 1959 JO SEP I 2 I99B P CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 1924 088 023 787 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924088023787 THE WORKS CORRESPONDENCE THE RIGHT HONOUEABLE EDMUND BURKE. a iafto ©tftttott. IN EIGHT VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: TEANCIS & JOHN EIVINGTON, ST. Paul's chtibch tabd, abd wateeloo peace. 1852. LONDOIT: GILBEKT AND RIYIMQTON, PMNTEESj ST. John's sqdare. CONTENTS V^OL. IT. PAGE CoBEESPOlTDEirCE, 1791 to 1797 1 Appendix to Correspondence 409 The "Wobks of the Eight Hon. EDiroirD Bueke 495 Advertisement to the Eeader 497 A Vindication of Natural Society; or, a View of the Miseries and Evils arising to Mankind from every species of Artificial Society. In a letter to Lord * * * *, by a late noble Writer. 1756 513 A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful. With an Introductory Discourse concemiag Taste, and several other Additions .... 655 COERESPONDENCE THE EiaHT HONOUEABLE EDMUND BURKE; BETWEEN THE YEAR ItU, AND THE PERIOD OF HIS DECEASE, IN 1797. EDITED BY CHAELES WILLIAM, EAEL PITZWILLIAM, AND LIEUTENAHT-GENEEAL SIE EICHAED BOIJEKE, K.C.B. First Published in 1844. (Continued.) CONTENTS CORRESPONDENCE. Hon 1791. Aug. 16. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Aug. 17. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Aug. 18. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun,, Esq. Aug. 20. Duke of Dorset to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . Aug. Sketch of a Letter to the Queen of France . Aug. 23. J. H. Hutchinson, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke Aug. 25. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Aug. 26. From Monsieur (afterwards Louis XVIII.) to Rt Edm. Burke Aug. 26. Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke Sept. 1. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Sept. 2. Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke Sept. 10. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Chev. de la Bintinnaye Sept. 10. Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke Sept. 17. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Monsieur (afterwards Louis XVIII.) Sept. 18. Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . Sept. 20. Rt. Hon. Henry Dimdas to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Sept. 24. Dr. Laurence to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . . Sept. 26. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Oct. 2. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Chev. de la Bintinnaye Oct. 13. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Chev. de la Bintinnaye Nov. 2. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Chev. de la Bintinnaye Dec. 13. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Dec. 15. Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke Dec. 15. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Dec. 16. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. Dec. 25. Rt. Hon. Henry Dundas to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. 1792. Jan. 8. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq, Jan. 13. Rt, Hon, Edm, Burke to Rich, Burke, Jun., Esq. a 2 PAGE 1 9 ib. 10 11 13 14 16 17 19 21 25 26 34 36 37 ib. 40 44 45 47 48 49 ib. 51 52 53 55 OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. ]X DATE PAGE 1792. Dec. Statement by Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq., of the relations between himself, the Roman Catholics, and the Irish Government 185 1793. Jan. Abbe Edgeworth to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 192 Feb. Letter to Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (proposed for adoption to Rt. Hon. H. Dundas) 193 Mar. 20. Rt. Hon. Henry Grattan to Rich. Burke, Jun. Esq. . . 198 Mar. 25. Rt. Hon. Henry Grattan to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 199 June 12. King of Poland to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 201 Aug. 14. Chev. de Grave to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke ib. Aug. 18. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Wm. Windham, Esq. . . . 202 Aug. 23. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Wm. Windham, Esq. . . .203 Aug. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Comte de Mercy 204 Sept. 22. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Sir Gilbert Elliot 211 Sept. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Wm. Burke, Esq 215 Oct. 7. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Henry Dundas . . . ib. Oct. 10. Duke of Portland to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 216 Oct. 23. Comte d'Artois to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 219 Aug. 18. From the Royalist Army in Poitouto the Comte d'Artois 221 Oct. 10. Comte d'Artois to the Due d'Harcourt 222 Oct. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 225 Nov. 1. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 226 Nov. 6. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to the Comte d'Artois .... 228 Nov. 7. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 231 Nov. 14. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 233 Nov. 14. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Sylvester Douglas, Esq. . . . 234 Nov. 19. Lord Malmesbury to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 237 Nov. 25. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . ib. 1794. Jan. 8. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 239 Jan. State of Affairs relative to France 240 Jan. 10. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rich. Burke, Jun., Esq. . . . 243 Jan. 13. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Emp. Woodford, Esq. . . . 244 Jan. 20. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Duke of Portland 247 June 11. Duke of Portland to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 248 Aug. 4. Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 249 Aug. 15. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Wm. Windham, Esq. . . . 250 Aug. 26. Henry Grattan, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . . 251 Aug. 30. Rt. Hon. Wm. Pitt to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke .... 252 Sept. 1. Comte de Serent to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 253 Sept. 14. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Duke of Portland 254 Sept. 18. Rt. Hon. Wm. Pitt to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke .... 257 Sept. Henry Grattan, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . . ib. Sept. 28, Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to the Abbe de la Bintinnaye . . 258 DATE 1794. Oct. 1. Nov. 30. Dec. 30. 1795. Jan. 20. Jan. 29. Feb. 4. Feb. 19. Feb. 26. Feb. 27. Feb. 28. March 3. March 5. . March 10. March 14. March 17. March 19. May 18. May 22. June. Aug. 24. Sept. 26. Nov. 28. 1796. Jan. 18. Feb. 26. March 3. March 10. March. March 11. March 12. March 24. June 18. June 20. June 22. !• July 28. V^Sept. 2. Nov. 7. Nov. 10. i^ov. 17. l/Kov. 18. vNov. 22. CONTENTS PAGE Henry Grattan, Esq., to Right Hon. Edm. Burke . . • 259 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 260 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Vicomte de Cice 261 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 264 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 266 Wm. Smith, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 268 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke .... 271 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 273 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 277 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 279 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 280 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 281 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 282 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 283 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 284 Henry Grattan, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . . ib. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 286 Messrs. Byrne and Keogh to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 291 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 292 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Edm. Malone, Esq 297 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey ... .298 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 300 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 301 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey ib. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 302 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 303 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 304 Marquis of Buckingham to Rt. Hon. Wm. Pitt . . . 306 Proposal relative to the Penn School 307 John Bowles, Esq., to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke .... 308 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to John Bowles, Esq 309 Rt. Hon. Wm. Pitt to Marquis of Buckingham . . . 310 Rt. Hon. Wm. Pitt to Marquis of Buckingham , . .311 Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke ib. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to John Geoghegan, Esq. . . . 312 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to John Geoghegan, Esq. . . . ib. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 313 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 315 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 316 Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 318 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Thos. Keogh, Esq 321 Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 324 Dr. Laurence to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 328 OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. xi DATE PAGE 1796. Nov. 23. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 329 Nov. 24. Dr. Laurence to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 331 l»^ Nov. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 334 Nov. 30. Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 336 Dec. 5. Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 339 Dec. 7. Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 341 Dec. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey ib. Dec. 20. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 352 Dec. 23. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 354 Dec. 24. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 357 Dec. 27. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 358 Dec. 28. Earl Fitzwilliam to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 360 ^-TJec. 28. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dudley North, Esq 362 1797. Jan. 9. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 363 Jan. 17. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 365 i^eb. 9. Dr. Laurence to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 367 (^Feh. 10. Rt. Hon. Edmund Burke to Dr. Laurence 368 Feb. 11. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 371 '^eb. IS. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence ib. Feb. 17. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 374 "^Maroh 5. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 375 i-^arch 16. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 377 March 30. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham . . 380 April 2. Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 383 April 25. Rt. Hon. Wm. Windham to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke . . 384 May 9. Rev. Dr. Hussey to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke 386 May 12. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey 388 '■"'May 12. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence ib. May 21. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Mrs. Crewe 396 May 22. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Rev. Dr. Hussey ..... ib. May 23. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Arthur Young, Esq 398 May 28. Mrs. Leadbeater to Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke ib. l-^une 1. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 400 "^une 5. Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 402 ^ Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Dr. Laurence 403 1/ Fragment of a Letter from Rt. Hon. Edm. Burke to Lord Chancellor Loughborough 404 I' Sept. 10. *Earl Fitzwilliam to Dr. Laurence 407 * Now first printed from the original MS. (1852.) XU APPENDIX TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. APPENDIX. \_The Papers marked * are now first printed from the original MSS. 1852.] DATE ^*°^ 1^0 Date. "Notes on Copyright Bill and Monopolies generally . . 411 No Date. Concerning the Duration of Monopolies 413 /--iVb Date. *Poor Laws and Settlement ^^^ No Date. Resolutions concerning the Poor Laws ib. 1774. Nov. 30. Notes for Speech on Amendment on the Address . . .415 1775— 1778. i\roZ)ay misfortune of not speaking J''rei\eh well, could have caused this niisundt'rstanding. I think, when we come to explain ourselves, we shall not dill'er in a single point. [Relieve me, however, that whether we agree or difler, in matters of political exjiedieney, I can never for a moment ditl'er from you and your brother in sentiment, nor ceaso at all most sincerely to honour and love you both. I am, my dear sir, Most faithfully yours, frc. Enji. BuHKK. The lihiht Hon. Ediiitmd Ihirh' to fJw Chevalier de la Binliniiayc. l)\.ko-sti-wt, Thmwiiiv, llcti.liur 13, 1791. Mv 01 '.A It Sni, I have given your letter, which \ have just received from Becons- tield, to my son. lie will give you all the satisfaction upon the matter of your complaint which it is in our jiower to give, ^'ou ought to have had clearer instruction and better information, ^'ou ought to have had a provision for the necessary expenses of yoiu' mission. Wo are not the causes why you are not better enabled to execute your trust. I am not disposed to blan\i' or to justify the princes, and those who are employed by them at Coblent/. But the distance of tlu' place, and inevitable accidents, / kiwir, have" been the causes in part of your intercourse not having been as regular as might be wished. I have just heard that they have the sanu' uneasiness at not hearing from you, that you have had at not hearing from them. Nothing has been wanting or shall be wanting on our part to a full explanation between yon on that subject, or towards putting you in a way of a more satisfactory execution of your commission. They have already had my testimony of the fidelity, iseal, activity, and abilities with which you have conducted yourselves. You have had some nuu'tifications, but not a thou- sandth part of those which have been endured by the agents at other courts, from which the friends to yinn- c;uiso had more to expect than here they have had ; and they have not had the conso- lation which you enjoyed, of having, amongst foreigners, decided, faithful, warm, and attectionate friends, to wiioni, in all emergencies, they might unbosom tliemselves. lias the Manpiis la CJuenille a better reception at Brussels, or a more satisfactory intercourse with ministers, or a more confidential friend amongst any of the Flc- 46 CORRESPONDENCE. mings ? Your situation is a situation of difficulty, and nothing but great patience can carry you through it. You have had great merit in your exertions. Your progress has been greater, by far, than I originally hoped for, though still far from what I could wish ; and I am most heartily sorry that you should desert your post at the beginning, and lose the just claim you have to be honoured and valued for essential services. You have desired your recall. I hope for your own sake, and that of your cause, that you have not taken that step definitively. The reason you assign for it is, that my son has brought over Monsieur de Oazalbs to supersede you, — a suspicion, idle, ground- less, and most highly injurious to the honour and good sense of my son. What ? That after recommending you to the princes for this employment, he should be capable of bringing over a person to set you aside ! If neither of us can be civil to a man of consideration in your party, and thereby render him better disposed to a hearty co-operation in your common cause, without giving you a reason to throw up your employment, you may have daily cause for it. When my son took the liberty of requesting you to undertake this mission, he did it because he was fully of opinion that you had talents and zeal fully adequate to the service, and that it would give you those opportunities of showing them, which might here- after obtain you that consideration which is merited by patient and painful services. If your own dispositions do not lead you to continue in this course, my son and I have the consolation of knowing that the loss which the service may suffer by your withdrawing yourself from it, is not owing to either of us. That no marks of friendship, atten- tion, and respect, have, on our part, been wanting towards you and your brother personally, and that, dispersed as the ministers were when you arrived, there has not been the delay of an hour (no, literally not of an hour,) in introducing you and putting forward your cause, and partly by ways that you know, and partly by those with which it is not necessary to trouble you. In the disinterested part we actively take in this affair, we want no apology to any human creature. We have made many enemies here, and no friends, by the part we have taken. We have, for your sakes, mixed with those with whom we have had no natural intercourse. We have quitted our business, we have broken in upon our enjoy- ments. For one mortification you have endured, we have endured twenty. My son has crossed land and sea, with much trouble, and at an expense above his means. But the cause of humanity requires it ; he does not murmur ; and he is ready to do as much and more for men whose faces he has not seen. In the name of God, my dear sir. follow vour own ideas. But nrav do not lav nnnn mv snn CORRESPONDENCE. 47 your quitting this kingdom, who never proposed to the princes that you should come hither with any view but the service of the cause, and your honour and estimation. If you have a mind either to Hve well with your friends, or effectually to serve your cause, you must not be ready to give an unfavourable construction to every appear- ance that you are not able to explain, or which, perhaps, cannot be explained to you. Excuse a liberty which is, indeed, open and honest, but as full of respect and affection as of plainness. I am, my dear sir, your most faithful and obedient humble servant, Edm. Bueke. The Eight Hon. Edmund Burke to the Chevalier de la Bintinnaye. Beconsfield, November 2, 1791. My dear Sie, I thank you very much for the answer to the queries. Present my humble respects to the Vicomte de Oic^ for his obliging attention to my wishes. He mistakes the word rents, which, with us, never signifies annuities paid by the state, or interest of money, but solely the annual payment made by those who hire land or houses. Pensio solvenda domino fwndi. The drift of the question was to know, whether the rise of this rent or payment has been beyond the usual rate of the rise in the price of produce, in provision, &c., where the contract of letting was only for short terms. The purpose was, in this question as in all the rest, to bring to decision one fact : — whether the violence committed by the peasants was the effect of instigation by evil-minded persons, or a natural result of a desire in the people to revenge themselves upon those who they imagined had treated them hardly. I sent you by my brother a letter inclosed to me, and which came through the hands of the Spanish ambassador. I have not courage to talk to you on the cursed conduct of the emperor and his ministers. So much perfidy, pride, cruelty, and tyranny, never was exercised in a like case. My dear friends, patience is necessary, and I trust it will not be unfruitful. Vincenda est orrmis fortuna ferendo. You must bear the vices of your enemies, and the faults of your friends. Had your great people been wise, regular, attentive, and vigilant, they never would have stood in need of my assistance or yours. Alas ! the employ- ment and use of virtue is to cure the evils brought on by vice and 48 COEEESPONDENCE. folly. God bless you both, and believe me perfectly and affection- ately attached to your persons and your cause. Your very faithful and obliged humble servant, Edm. BuilKE. My son is going for a few days northwards. Cannot we see you ? The abb^ has never been here. The Bight Hon. 'Edmund BurJce to Richard BwJce, Jvm., Esq. Beconsfield, December 13, 1791. My dearest Richard, If you are called to Ireland ^ I wish you all success, and that the season were more favourable. Thank you for your ransoming us. Christmas is a time of bills as well as pies, and that for many things. — I see that, without being able to perceive any thing dis- tinct, there is a sort of rumour that forces were collecting on the Rhine. Can you get any light into that matter ? Give the memo- rial from the pope's nuncio, which is in the hands of Cazalfes, to John King, for Lord Grenville. It ought to be put into the news- papers. I know nothing of the pamphlet of the — (hang it, I forget his name) on a counter-revolution. It is the best thing I have seen a great while. I am afraid it is lost. I think I have given it to Secretary King. I see Bintinnaye is mentioned amongst the absent navy-officers. Ought not he to be presented at court, and ought viis et modis ' ? No delay ought to be made, and surely Grenville ought to execute his intentions of being civil, and to in- vite him to dinner with his best company. This day's paper announces the Bishop of St. Pol amongst the grand delinquents. Mrs. Haviland has a letter from Paris denouncing them * as most contemptible in the eyes of all ; but that government is strong indeed which can exist under contempt. But they have a king ; 2 Mr. Richard Burke had been appointed, in the preceding year, agent to the Roman Catholics of Ireland, being constituted their legal as well as political adviser on all points connected with the prosecution of their claims for admission to the privileges of the British constitution, by the removal of the existing penal laws. On his return from Coblentz in this year, he entered on the duties of his employment, and had several communications with the ministers on the affairs of his clients. He left England for Dublin early in the January following, and remained there until April, actively engaged in this business. In a letter to Mr. "William Burke, written in August, 1792, and placed in this collection, he gives a short account of his proceedings. He has further described them in an able paper placed according to its date in this collection. ' Sic in orig. < The ruling party. CORRESPONDENCE. 49 lie indeed is a part of the scheme still more contemptible. Adieu, my ever dear son, adieu ! and God give you, — He alone can give you, — all you deserve from us all. Richard Burlce, Jun., Esq., to the Bight Hon. Edmund BurTce. December 15, 1791. Dear Fathee, I have had a long and very satisfactory conversation with Hobart to-day. We should have immediately concluded, if I would have given up the right of franchise ; — that, however, I shall yet carry. The measure of relief is certainly determined, the par- ticular points will therefore be less difficult. They are convinced of the necessity of conciliating and gaining the Roman Catholics to the interests of government. This single principle goes a great way. It is a great change of things since you first remember Ireland. It will be a great thing for me, if I can complete the work you have begun ; — God knows how little more than fortune I can contribute to the success. But every circmnstance is fortu- nate. The people with whom I am to deal have conceived an opinion of me. I have only time to say my love to all. Yours, R. B. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Bichard Burke, Jun., Esq. December 15, 1791. My dearest. Your uncle has had two very good nights after one bad day, and, thank God, is going on very well. He has vwitten a very proper letter to Walker King about the foolish proceedings of the secre- tary's office with Mr. Debret's office and Mr. Perry's newspaper. Nothing can be added to their absurdity and to his good admoni- tions. Let Walker keep the letter, and let the under-secretary and young man make himself some control on the paramount in- discretion of his old principal. The ministers in Ireland are mad, or think the Catholics so, in proposing an open rupture between them and the Protestant Dis- senters, before the state-church thinks fit to put those people so much upon a footing as to balance each other. But for them ° to ' The Roman Catholics. 50 CORRESPONDENCE. make an open quarrel with a great, perhaps the greatest, party ir the country, for no other reason than that they " offer them the whole of what they themselves possess, whilst the others ' arc making a hard bargain, upon a most scanty and penurious distribu- tion of what they have given, without any limit or measure whatso- ever, to those with whom they have the folly to desire the others to quarrel, is too much to propose to rational creatures in theii situation. It is what they would have accepted some time ago. because they would have done any thing, with any consequences, for the slightest hope of the most trifling relaxation. But now they stand on the firm bottom of legal protection, and of several ol the modes of acquiring and keeping property, and they can ne- gotiate for the rest upon some terms consistent with common sense. You are perfectly in the right in every point. The govern- ment, if it has any poUtical principle, must trust to its operation ; the stipulation of those who have no corporate capacity is non- sense. What should hinder them, if they please, from .shaking hands with the Dissenters to-morrow, whether they get the object or not ? But surely government will not be so absurd as to let it get wind that they are stipulating hostility with one set of the subjects against the other. Hitherto all relaxation of penalties proceeded on principles of union. They relaxed towards Dis- senters to unite Protestants. They relaxed towards the Catholics to unite subjects. Union was always the plea. The plan of dividing to govern, if ever politic, must be so from necessity, and then conducted with a most profound secrecy ; otherwise, the attempt will be ungracious, odious, and, in the end, ineffectual. Union must still be the word. I shall possibly throw out a hint to you on this subject to-morrow ; though I had rather have your order for the chaise, and that you brought the Bintinnayes with you. By the way, you ought to write to Calonne and to the princes. When you do, I will too send to Oalonne. What means the Dutch treaty with the emperor ? What a wilderness and maze of errors is this ! I send you the bill of lading of a present of wine made to poor Mary ' by a relation of her's with an exceedingly good-natured letter from Lisbon. He says the wine is of an extraordinary sort. You will give directions about it. Your mother's and uncle's love, and that of the Oarews. Adieu .' adieu ! « The Dissenters. ' The ministers in Ireland. * Mrs. Haviland. COREESPONDENCE. 51 The Bight Ron. Edmund BurJce to Bichard BurTce, Jtm., Esq. December 16, 1791. God send you success ; your cause is very good. If you give liberty to two millions of people in your vs^ay, you w^ill give it to them in a manner very different from that in which it is said five- and-twenty millions have obtained it in another place. You have obtained confidence and good opinion from those you treat with ; and that, in every transaction, is half the business. It is the natural effect of the soundness of your judgment and the candour of your proceedings. Your plan is the very reverse of that which the Dissenters hold out to the Catholics. Theirs goes to alter the representation, whilst it lets the Catholics into a share in the new acquisition. This of yours lets them into the House without alter- ing the structure materially ; and whatever change it makes, affects only those newly admitted ; and that, too, not by render- ing the platform more democratic. It tends rather to carry it far into the aristocratic mode of election. You are aware that at present there are not probably two hundred people in the whole kingdom who can take advantage of the franchise, because almost all the old freeholders had been worn out during the reign of the penalties. No new could be made during that period. But a few years have elapsed since they were made capable, and since that time none were made but considerable purchasers. This I know seems to cut both ways ; but you are not to neglect to use it with discretion. The principal reason for which I hint it to you is that you may not go too far in raising the qualification, as it may reduce the importance to be acquired by the franchise in propor- tion ; in a manner, indeed, to nothing. Five pound freehold is more than double the Protestant qualification ; and if you annex to all voters not exceeding that sum the iond fide renting of a farm of twenty pounds a year, this will be more than sufiScient to prevent occasionality and qualification merely for voting. I do not think you ought to carry either part of the qualification higher. This will be sufficient to quiet all real apprehensions. The feigned apprehensions of monopoly and malignity nothing can quiet. I do not know whether you exclude them from corporate towns. The power of voting in them, too, must take place sooner or later, — perhaps the earlier the better. Suppose that not above a certain number (say a fourth) were to be made capable of bearing a cor- porate office, — I mean the fourth of the aldermen, common-coun- cilmen, &c. &c. — it would be a long time before one-twentieth E 2 52 CORRESPONDENCE. could de facto obtain it ; but the capacity would wholly change their condition. Your uncle has had two excellent nights, and strengthens apace. Your mother is, bating occasional stiffness, very well, and so is Mary. Send the inclosed. It is on your credit that I call this gentle- man the pope's nuncio. If he be not, the letter must be stopped. I thought this one of the good opportimities of writing my thoughts once more. What does our ministry say to the alliance which the assembly hold out to France and Europe \ The fraud here seems ridiculous. There, and in other nations, it will have its effect. They will find it one day causing an alliance very real. You must pay the foreign postage, and get it carefully put in. It can't go till Tuesday. The Might Hon. Henry Dwndas to Richard Burke, Jun., Esq. Whitehall, December 25, 1791. Sir, I have very maturely considered the different particulars which passed in conversation between us yesterday forenoon ; and in compliance with your request, take the first opportunity of inti- mating to you, that Mr. Hobart ' sets out immediately for Ireland, furnished with a full communication of the sentiments of his ma- jesty's confidential servants, relative to the Roman CathoUcs of Ireland. The Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland will, in consequence thereof, take the proper steps on the subject, and will very speedily conimunicate to the Eoman Catholics the determination of government respecting the representations they have made. I must, therefore, refer you to the government of Ireland for any further communications you may wish to hold on this subject. I think it necessary, however, to assure you, that you will do me much injustice if you think that my forbearing to enter into any further particulars with yourself proceeds from any want of per- sonal respect for you ; and, above all, I must entreat you to believe that the steps we have taken for the conduct of this busi- ness, are those which occur to us as the most likely to bring this important question to a happy conclusion. I am, with great truth and regard. Sir, your very obedient humble servant, Heney Dundas. ' Afterwards Earl of Buckinghamshire ; — at this time secretary for Ireland, the Earl of Westmoreland being lord-lieutenant. CORRESPONDENCE. 53 The Bight Hon. Edmund Burjce to Richard Burke, Jim., Esq. January 8, 1792. My EVEa BEAR ElCHAED, I have written to you but twice since your departure. My first was by Mr. Fitzherbert. It contained little more than to tell you that we were all well, and to thank you for the comfortable letter, for so much, that we received from you from Holyhead. The second was pretty long, and contained such reflections as occurred to me on the subject of your journey. It is a matter on which I am doubly anxious, — on its own account, and on account of your con- cern in it. I wish most earnestly that you may achieve this advantage, which I broke off in the middle and " left half told — the story of Oambuscan bold." You are, I hope, the Spenser who will bring it to a happy conclusion. I have seen the address of the Eoman Catholic protesters. It puts me in mind strongly of the spirit of those who called themselves protesting Catholic dis- senters here, who were infinitely hurt that they were not able to make a schism in their short and narrow jacket, but were obliged to take up a benefit upon terms in common with their brethren, from whom it was no trivial part of the object of their application to be distinguished, and with as much odium to those they were divided from as possible. I do not know whether it arises from my anxiety, but I consider that address as mischievous to your design, and that in the highest possible degree. It is full of the most malignant insinuations. It insinuates that there were some persons (who could be no other than those who composed the meeting in which the addressers were out-voted.) whose conduct ought to be thus formally disavowed. It insinuates that there may be some reasons of state, which, vdthout specifying or hinting at it, they presume may exist, for denying the requests which shall be made to parliament; thus teaching their enemies undefined suspicions and exceptions beforehand ; and lastly, they strongly insinuate, if they do not as much as declare, that though they should obtain little, or even nothing at all, they will be perfectly satisfied. If they did no more than slur the society to which they belong, their crime would be of the blackest hue. If, however, others do not look in that light upon what has been done, so much the better. Temper with them is much ; with you it is almost every thing. Whatever your inward sentiments may be, all without ought to bear as great an appearance of neutrality as you can give yourself. It suits with the mediatorial character in which it is best for you to appear ; and it will not relax your vigour in pursuit of your objects. 54 CORRESPONDENCE. So far as to the proceedings of the Catholics in the business of the address. As to government, I cannot yet believe the Irish part to wish well to the reUef desired, because this last step was taken after it was well known to them that Mr. H., their principal member, was sent for to England on this very business ; and it would be natural for them to suspend all proceeding until his return. The address to be sure was theirs. Instead of wishing the demand to be as large as with propriety it could be, that they might have something to reduce in compliance with the desire of those they desired to bring over, by this address they plainly wish to fight off with the Catholics, and to get as little for them as possibly they can. Whether the committee^ thinks it right to address before the session, or to wait and make one work by their petition (which may be the best course), I think they ought to be explicit ; not so much on the mode of answer or contro- versy, but as positive declaration, that they have nothing to disclaim or disavow on their own part, or that of their brethren of any consideration. That they wish to subject their conduct to the strictest scrutiny, whether as loyal and affectionate subjects to the best of sovereigns, or as sober, peaceable, and useful members of society ; that in these particulars they are sure they woidd rank with any others, either of then- own description or of any descrip- tion. That fuU of consciousness of the innocence of their lives, and the goodness of their intentions, it was not for them to suppose any reasons of state for continuing them under the restraints of penal statutes ; because penalties must suppose, if not crimes, at least just causes of suspicion. To lie under those criminal suspi- cions would be still more grievous to them than the penalties themselves. That it would not be believed, if they should assert that they were perfectly contented to be considered in a doubtful light of fidelity and loyalty, either to the king or to the constitution of their country ; or that they were happy to be excluded from the common rights and privileges of British and Irish subjects. That they are as far from that foolish hypocrisy, as they are from an unthankful disposition for what is past ; from a want of grateful acceptance of whatever may be given ; or from a want of submis- sion and patient waiting on the times and conveniences of the legislature, from whose free goodness alone they look for the further alleviation of their sufferings. This is not the less modest and peaceable for being clear, open, and manly. Of all this, however, you will best judge who are on the spot. If government is perfectly in earnest, every thing ought to be made smooth ' i. e. The R. C. Cominittee. COREESPONDENCE. 55 for them. If you find the Roman Cathohcs irreconcilable to each other, and that government is resolved to side with those, or rather to direct those, who would betray the rest, then my clear opinion is, that you ought not to wait the playing the last card of a losing hand. It would be disreputable to you. But when you have given your instructions to the very few in whom you can place confidence for their future temperate and persevering proceed- ing, (as this business may be the work of more sessions than one, and may find more favourable conjunctures,) that you wiU, with a cool and steady dignity, take your leave. Don't learn too eager pursuits from me. Be content to have done your best, and leave the rest to the Disposer of events. " Laudandaque velle — Sit satis, et nunquam successu crescat honestum'." This is the answer; — adieu ! We are all well, and have but one wish in the world. God bless you again and again, my only pride, hope, consolation. Adieu ! Your ever affectionate father, E. B. My former letter was directed as this is, under cover, to F. Kiernan, at the Custom House. Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to Richard Burke, Jwn,., Esq. January 13, 1792. My dear Eichard, I write this to you by the Oomte 0' Kelly, who had been the French minister at Mentz, but who lately resigned his employments on things being brought to extremities with the princes and nobility of France. He is a well-bred, sensible man, and by his late conduct shows that he is a man of honour and principle. He has been lately at Paris. I don't at all like his account of things, nor indeed their aspect in any point of view, with regard to the unhappy party we are inclined to wish well to. Oazalfes quitted this yesterday under a strong, and, I believe, unaffected feeling with 'regard to us, and with every evil presage with regard to the country, having no sort of hope of a change; or, if he could indulge in such a hope, having a bad prospect of any satisfactory effect from it. I think very well of Oazalbs ; and O'Kelly tells me that he is known to be a valuable man in his private life as well as his public, and much loved wherever he is known. I had a ' Lucar, Phars. 9. 571- 56 CORRESPONDENCE. long but not very satisfactory conversation with J. King ; not on his own account, or indeed with regard to the general right disposi- tion of ministers with regard to home affairs ; but they are, with regard to foreign, so full of fears and apprehensions, that I think their operation on them has an effect very little different from a determined hostility to the cause. They have let the King of Prussia slip out of their hands, and they are far from countenancing or using the slightest endeavour to gain Russia, or to keep the King of Prussia in check. I do not know one power upon the Continent upon whom they can count. But this un- pleasant state of French affairs I pass over. I send you, with this, a letter, which Lady Charlotte Wentworth sent me to be trans- mitted to you. I send you also her letter, to let you see that Pelham is still acting the part of a runner to the French revolu- tion, and endeavouring every where, by various rumours and idle expectations, to reconcile the minds of people to it. As to your affair, which touches us more nearly, I find, on com- paring various accounts, that the opposition to it is chiefly in the Castle itself, and that the point against which they set their faces most strongly, is the representation. They say that they would cheerfully give up the bar, and would open the army and navy ; but that to the last they never would consent. For this, I do not find that H.* gave any sort of reason. But the reason is evident enough. The Castle faction, by having commissions now and then to give to this or to that man amongst the papists, would completely gain this or that man, and dispose him to dupe, or to disavow his brethren, but the votes of independent men of property might sometimes give them trouble, and never could be of service to them in any job. They would go into the general mass of the feelings and interests of the country. The reason which induces the Castle to prefer the places to the repre- sentation is the cause, too, that they find a few gentlemen who might, in their families and dependencies, profit of the job, but who could get little of any thing which they are used to feel, by the representation. When I found that the Castle had been set on this, and talked with contempt of Keogh'', and said, that the general wishes of the Catholics were not to be taken from him ; I did justice to Keogh and said what I thought, that it were well for government if they had many men of such abilities to serve them, in which King agreed with me, thinking highly of the man. When I had done that justice, I then said, that whoever pretended to tell me that any people on earth existed that should not wish to * mz. Mr. Hobart. ' Secretary to the R. C. Committee. CORRESPONDENCE. 57 be on as good a footing as others in their community, or were pleased with exclusions and incapacities, all he did was to convince me that he had a poor idea of my understanding, and did not a little less than ' affront me. I find that Hobart does not at aU like you being concerned in the business ; and in that idea, I should not be surprised if he did all he could, underhand, to lessen you in the opinion and confidence of those who employ you, as well as with others. But, by this time, you are at the bottom of aU this, and you wUl see whether it is more prudent for your cause, and safe for your personal dignity, (things that ought never to be separated,) to continue where you are, or to come hither, and solicit where you are sure of being heard at least with respect, and where you may withdraw to quiet, or to remain where you are without proper weight and consideration, as you must do where you are. If you do not speedily see something fundamental settled, you must sink into the character of a mere common solicitor. If the Castle do not wish you as a friend and mediator, they will soon reduce you, for it is completely in their power, into the former situation, and that too with the disadvantage of being an unsuccessful solicitor. Let me know whether you have received four letters from me, all directed to Frank Kiernan. May God bless you ! Throw this into the fire. Your ever affectionate father, E. B. Philip Francis, Esq., to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burlce. January 21, 1792. My dear Mr. Burke, I am sure I need make no apology for requesting you to assist me in an act of piety and gratitude to the memory of one of the best and most learned men of his time, the late Mr. George Thicknesse '. In the narrow sphere allotted to him, I can affirm with certainty, that it was impossible to exhibit greater qualifications of every kind, or to do more good to mankind, than he did. Judge not of his learning and abilities, though you may of his virtue and wisdom, " i. e. almost. ' Formerly head master of St. Paul's School, which situation he resigned June, 1769. The Mercers' Company, who, under Dean Colet's will, are patrons of the school, had so high an esteem for him, that they gave him the nomination of his successor, and settled on him an annuity of 100 gumeas. He was bom in 1713-14, and died December 23, 1790. His father, John Thicknesse, was rector of Farthinghoe, in Northamptonshire ; his brother Philip married Lady Elizabeth Touchet, through whom his descendants have inherited the barony of Audley. 58 CORRESPONDENCE. by the obscurity in which he passed this life, and escaped out of it. Natus moriensqm fefellit. He claim'd no honour from descent of blood ; But that which made him noble, made him good. In the little circle of his friends, I never knew a man so much respected. By his scholars universally he was beloved and reverenced. Even they who neglected his instructions, or forgot his precepts, were tenderly and dutifully attached to his person. Your friend Hickey has succeeded in the bust beyond my expectar tion ; considering that he had nothing but a very indifferent old picture to copy from, and had never seen the original. The per- formance does him so much credit, and he has taken such pains with it, that we, the managers, are perfectly satisfied, and have agreed, for his honour, to let it appear at the exhibition, before it is erected in the school. Some of us pretended scholars have been humming our brains for an inscription ; but what signifies mallea- tion without fire I Be so good as to lend us a little of yours. One of the faults of the inclosed essay is, that it is too long for the tablet. Do see if you can mend it, or make it better ; and let me have your answer by to-morrow or Monday's post. All this family, jointly and severally, desire their most affectionate duty, and dutiful affection, to be presented to Mrs. Burke and yourself. Yours abundantly, P. Francis. P.S. — Observe, we are obliged to mix the honours of the school with the eulogy of one of its greatest masters, of whom Lilly was the first, appointed by Dean Colet. The Right Hon. Edmund Burlce to Richard BurJce, Jwn., Esq. January 26, 1792. My dearest Eichakd, Though we should be happy in hearing from you often, yet when we know that you are well, the first object of our wish is accom- phshed. We should hear from you if you had any thing pleasant to tell. Though we have nothing from you, we hear on all hands that the Castle has omitted nothing to break that line of policy which government has pursued as opportunity offered from the beginning of the present reign : — that, I mean, of wearing out the vestiges of conquest, and settling all descriptions of people on the bottom of one protecting and constitutional system. But bv what COKKESPONDENCE. 59 I learn, the Castle has another system, and considers the outlawry (or what at least I look on as such) of the great mass of the people as an unalterable maxim in the government of Ireland. If I considered only the interest of that mass of the people, I should be indifferent about their loss of their just, rational, and wise object of pursuit during this session. They will have it, because the nature of things will do it. What vexes me is, that it will not be done in the best, the most gracious, the most conciUatory, and the most politic mode. In the present state of Europe, in which the state of these kingdoms is included, it is of infinite moment that matters of grace should emanate from the old sove- reign authority. The harmony of the two kingdoms requires that the king's government should not stand chargeable with any thing proscriptive or oppressive, or which leans with a weight of odium and prejudice on any quiet description of his subjects. Above all, it requires that no harsh measure should seem the result of any unalterable principle of his government ; — for that would be to leave the people no hope from that quarter, from which alone I should wish them to hope every thing. But I shall not trouble you or myself further with what neither you nor I can help. Cazates goes off shortly. His spirits have been greatly sunk ; — I do not wonder at it. The madness, the wickedness, the malice, and the folly, of the greatest part of Germany, is not to be expressed. The Duke of Wurtemburgh takes the lead in Suabia against the persecuted nobility of France, who are hunted from place to place like so many wild boars. The Bintinnayes are well, but in the same state of dejection as Cazalfes. I wish that in the unpleasant view of public affairs, we were com- pensated by any thing cheerful with regard to our narrower circle. Thank God ! with regard to this house, all is well, or perhaps better than you left it. Your mother, your uncle, and all of us, in the best health. Our poor friend Sir Joshua declines daily. For some time past he has kept his bed. His legs, and all his body, swell extremely ; yet his physicians are by no means sure that the case is dropsical. I have been twice called to town by very alarming letters from poor Miss Palmer, who feared that the worst was more nearly at hand than it was. I returned from my second journey yesterday. He was somewhat better when I left town, and this morning we had an account of the event of the day after I had left him. He stiU continued in appearance to mend. The swelling had abated. He takes great doses of laudanum. At times he has pain ; but for the most part he is tolerably easy. Nothing can equal the tranquillity with which he views his end. He congratulates himself on it as a happy conclusion of a happy 60 CORRESPONDENCE. life. He spoke of you in a style which was affecting. I don't beUeve there are any persons he valued more sincerely than you and your mother. Surely it is well returned by you both. Mary and the captain salute you, and the friends they know in Dublin. Your mother's affectionate blessing. May G-od always protect you! Ever, ever, my dearest Eichard, Your affectionate father, Edm. Burke. Right Hon. Edmv/nd Bur he to the Chevalier and Abhe de la Bintinnaye . January 27, 1792. My deae Friends, Chevalier and Abb6 de la Bintinnaye ! I send you an infamous paper, further to exercise your admirable patience. But my chief view is, that it should exercise your excellent talents. It is written, I strongly suspect, by a person of importance enough to require some notice to be taken of it. I think it lies open to a satisfactory and manly answer, and the chevalier may owe it to the manes of the fallen nobility, for whom, after having shed his blood, he has given up his inadequate reward, to put his name to his own defence and theirs. The attack is obliquely upon me, — directly on the noblesse of France ; the next, I conjecture, will be on the clergy. Never did I see so much base and ungenerous malignity in any piece. I think the reflections on it obvious. Whilst so many are suppliant at courts where they are betrayed, and the rest hunted like wild beasts from place to place, through Germany and the Netherlands, it will be glorious to you two, in a country where, though you are not considered according to your merits, you are yet free, and may act the part of men, to defend your persecuted countrymen, fellow-nobles, and fellow-citizens. The newspapers, almost without exception, even those paid by Monsieur de Calonne, are not your friends. In such a state what remains to a man? Himself. I shall write to Du Pont, if he be still in England, to come to town, and to exert himself in the defence of his own corps. I cannot spend the remainder of my life in conflicts. I am entitled to my ease. Yet if you will be so good to come hither, where you shall be as retired as you please, and as much your own masters, I shall cheerfully give you my best thoughts on what you are doing. Believe me, no person can be more attached to your cause, can have more pity for your sufferings, or more love and esteem for your COREESPONDENCE. 61 persons and your family, than I have. Adieu ! and beUeve me most sincerely and affectionately, Yours, Edm. Burke. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Willid/m WeddeW, Esq. Beconsfield, January 31, 1792, late at night. My dear Sir, Not less than twenty times, I verily believe, have I taken up my pen to write to you something which was suggested to me by your most friendly and obliging letter. But because I had too much to say, I have said nothing at all. Your letter, indeed, did not absolutely require an answer. My best thanks were certainly your due ; but I hoped that the same partial goodness which dictated your letter, would presume that I entertained becoming and natural senti- ments on your conduct towards me under the dereliction of so many of my old acquaintance. To thank you was all that I was called upon to do ; and, for not doing this, I stand in need of some apology. But as, along vnth your friendly expressions of personal kindness, some topics were touched upon that made an impression on my mind, so many thoughts crowded upon me, both with rela- tion to the party by which I had been disclaimed, and with relation to the country with which my ties cannot be dissolved, that I feared, if I should touch upon them, I should be drawn on to write, not a long letter, but a tedious dissertation. — " Whilst I was on the terrace of Windsor, I little thought of what was going on at York." ■ — Most certainly I did not. As to the reception of Mr. Fox, with aU the circumstances of honour according to their several modes, by the corporation and the people of York, if this had been done to efface the impressions which had been made upon many by the conduct of several persons in that city and county in the year 1 784, I should have been exceedingly pleased'. I should have found but one thing to regret, which was, that their returning sentiments of ' M. P. for Malton. He had married a sister of Sir John Ramsden, whose half- sister was married to Lord Rockingham. He died in 1792, his widow in 1831, having long enjoyed the affection and respect of all who knew her. ' Mr. Burke refers to the presentation of the freedom of the city of York to Mr. Fox—" At a meeting of the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, Sheriffs, &c. &c. at the Guildhall, August 26, 1791. Resolved :— " That the freedom of this city be presented to the Right Hon. Charles James Fox, in a gold box of the value of fifty guineas, as a proof of the high respect and sincere gratitude of this corporation, for the constant and beneficial exertion of his brilliant and unrivalled abilities in support of the British constitution, upon the true principles of the glorious Revolution, of the just rights of every degree of citizens, and the peace, liberty, and happiness of mankind." 62 CORRESPONDENCE. approbation did not extend further. I should have thought, if that had been the object of those demonstrations of their attachment to Mr. Fox, it would not have been amiss if they had shown some marks of respect, at the same time, to yourself, to Lord John Cavendish, and to Mr. Foljambe''. The assertion of the principles, at that time common to us all, and the circumstances of the county and city at that crisis, would have given a more heal propriety to expressions of sorrow, with regard to mistakes into which their province had fallen, in common with a large part of the nation in other quarters. But they were not guilty of any omission at all ; because they had nothing less in their view than the transactions of 1784. Instead of looking to that period, the memory of which had not been obliterated by a very long prescription, they forgot what passed before their own eyes not above seven years from that time, and flew back to the history of what had happened a hundred years before. But they were not such mere antiquarians as they seemed to be. In their unprecedented compliment to Mr. Fox for govern- ing his conduct by the true principles of the revolution, they plainly alluded to a transaction not quite a hundred years old. He is the first private man to whom such a compliment, I am persuaded, has ever been made. It must have a reference to something done or said relative to the principles of the revolution ; and if I were dull enough to mistake what that doing and saying was, I should be the only man in England who did not perfectly enter into it. When I combined all the circumstances, though I wish Mr. Fox all other modes of honour, I cannot say that I was not concerned at this event. It was not just at York (where I was with Lord Rocking- ham at those very races twenty-six years before, and there first had any acquaintance in that county,) that I apprehended, in the praises of another, I should have found an oblique censure, and the first vote against me amongst the judges to whom I had addressed my appeal. That, too. must go with the rest. In that piece', I have quite satisfied my own conscience; and I have done what I thought due to my own reputation, so far as the public is concerned. Now let me say a word to you, on what would not have been so proper to say to the public, as it regards the par- ticular interests of the party, and my conduct towards them and their leader, Mr. Fox. As to the party which has thought proper to proscribe me on 2 Lord John Cavendish had long represented the city of York, Mr. Foljambe had represented the county for a short time, since the death of Sir George Savile. They were both defeated at the general election in 1 784. Mr. Weddell himself was a candi- date for the county at that election, with Mr. Foljambe. 3 " An Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs," published in 1791. CORRESPONDENCE. 63 account of a book which I published on the idea, that the principles of a new, republican, frenchified Whiggism, were gaining ground in this country, I cannot say it was written solely with a view to the service of that party. I hope its views were more general. But I am perfectly sure this was one of the objects in my contemplation ; and I am hardly less sure, that (bating the insufficiency of the exe- cution) it was well calculated for that purpose ; and that it had actually produced that effect upon the minds of all those at whose sentiments it is not disrespectful to guess. Possibly it produced that effect without that exception. Mr. Montagu* knows, many know, what a softening towards our party it produced in the thoughts and opinions of many men in many places. It presented to them sentiments of liberty which were not at war with order, virtue, religion, and good government ; and though, for reasons which I have cause to rejoice that I listened to, I disclaimed myself as the organ of any party, it was the general opinion that I had not wandered very widely from the sentiments of those with whom I was known to be so closely connected. It was indeed then, and it is much more so now, absolutely necessary to separate those who cultivate a rational and sober liberty upon the plan of our existing constitution, from those who think they have no liberty, if it does not comprehend a right in them of making to themselves new con- stitutions at their pleasure. The party with which I acted had, by the malevolent and unthink- ing, been reproached, and by the wise and good always esteemed and confided in, as an aristocratic party. . Such I always understood it to be, in the true sense of the word. I understood it to be a party, in its composition, and in its principles, connected with the solid, permanent, long-possessed property of the country ; a party which, by a temper derived from that species of property, and affording a security to it, was attached to the ancient tried usages of the kingdom ; a party, therefore, essentially constructed upon a ground-plot of stability and independence ; a party, therefore, equally removed from servile court compliances, and from popular levity, presumption, and precipitation. Such was the general opinion of the substance and original stamina of that party. For one, I was fully persuaded that the spirit, genius, and character of that party ought to be adopted, and, for a long tione, I thought was adopted, by all the new men who in the course of time should be aggregated to that body ; whether any of these new men should be a person possessed of a large fortune of his own creating ; or whether the new man should be (though of a * Vide vol. i. p. 177. 64 CORRESPONDENCE. family long decorated with the honours and distinctions of the state,) only a younger brother, who had an importance to acquire by his industry and his talents ; — or whether the new man should be (as was my case) wholly new in the country, and aimed to illus- trate himself and his family by the services he might have the fortune to render to the public. All these descriptions of new men, and more, if more there are, I conceived, without any formal engagement, by the very constitution of the party, to be bound with all the activity ,and energy of minds animated and awakened by great hopes and views, to support those aristocratic principles, and the aristocratic interests connected with them, as essential to the real benefit of the body of the people, to which all names of party, all ranks and orders in the state, and even government itself, ought to be entirely subordinate. These principles and interests, I conceived, were to give the bias to all their proceedings. Adhering to these principles, the aspiring minds that exalt and vivify a party, could not be held in too much honour and consideration : — depart- ing from them, they lose more than they can gain. They lose the advantages which they might derive from such a party, and they cannot make it fit for the purposes for which they desire to employ it. Such a party, pushed forward by a blind impulse, may for some time proceed without an exact knowledge of the point to which it is going. It may be deluded ; and, by being deluded, it may be dis- credited and hurt ; but it is too unwieldy, both from its numbers and from its property, to perform the services expected from a corps of light horse. Against the existence of any such description of men as our party is in a great measure composed of, — against the existence of any mode of government on such a basis, we have seen a serious and systematic attack attended with the most complete success, in another country, but in a country at our very door. It is an attack made against the thing and against the name. If I were to produce an example of something diametrically opposite to the composition, to the spirit, to the temper, to the character, and to all the maxims of our old and unregenerated party, some- thing fitted to illustrate it by the strongest opposition, I would pro- duce — what has been done in France. I would except nothing. I would brjng forward the principles ; I would bring forward the means ; I would bring forward the ultimate object. They who cry up the French revolution, cry down the party which you and I had so long the honour and satisfaction to belong to. " But that party was formed on a system of liberty." Without question it was ; and God forbid that you and I should ever belong to any party that was not built upon that foundation. But this French dirt-pie, — this its CORRESPONDENCE. 65 hateful contrast, is founded upon slavery ; and a slavery which is not the less slavery, because it operates in an inverted order. It is a slavery the more shameful, the more humiliating, the more galling, upon that account, to every liberal and ingenuous mind. It is, on that account, ten thousand times the more destructive to the peace, the prosperity, and the welfare, in every instance, of that undone and degraded country in which it prevails. My party principles, as well as my general politics and my natural sentiments, must lead me to detest the French revolution, in the act, in the spirit, in the consequences, and most of all, in the example. I saw the sycophants of a court, who had, by engrossing to themselves the favours of the sovereign, added to his distress and to the odium of his government, take advantage of that distress and odium to subvert his authority and imprison his person ; and pass- ing, by a natural progression, from flatterers to traitors, convert their ingratitude into a claim to patriotism, and become active agents in the ruin of that order, from their belonging to which they had derived all the opulence and power of their families. Under the auspices of these base wretches, I had seen a senseless populace employed totally to annihilate the ancient government of their country, under which it had grovra, in extent, compactness, popu- lation, and riches, to a greatness even formidable ; a government which discovered the vigour of its principle, even in the many vices and errors, both of its own and its people's, which were not of force enough to hinder it from producing those effects. They began its destruction by subverting, under pretexts of rights of man, the foundations of civil society itself. They trampled upon the religion of their country, and upon all religion;' — they systematically gave the rein to every crime and every vice. They destroyed the trade and manufactures of their country. They rooted up its finances. They caused the greatest accumulation of coin, probably ever col- lected amongst any people, totally to disappear as by magic ; and they filled up the void by a fraudulent, compulsory paper-currency, and a coinage of the bells from their churches. They possessed the fairest and the most flourishing colonies which any nation had perhaps ever planted. These they rendered a scene of carnage and desola- tion, that would excite compassion and remorse in any hearts but theirs. They possessed a vast body of nobility and gentry, amongst the first in the world for splendour, and the very first for disin- terested services to their country: in which I include the most disinterested and incorrupt judicature (even by the confession of its enemies) that ever was. These they persecuted, they hunted down like wild beasts ; they expelled them from their families and their houses, and dispersed them into every country in Europe ; obhging VOL. IT. ^ 66 CORRESPONDENCE. them either to pine in fear and misery at home, or to escape into want and exil§ in foreign lands; nay, (they went so far in the wantonness of their insolence,) abrogated their very name and their titular descriptions, as something horrible and offensive to the ears of mankind. The means by which all this was done leaves an example in Europe never to be effaced, and which no thinking man, I imar- gine, can present to his mind without consternation ; — ^that is, the bribing of an immense body of soldiers, taken from the lowest of the people, to an universal revolt against their officers, who were the whole body of the country gentlemen, and the landed interest of the nation, to set themselves up as a kind of demo- cratic military, governed and directed by their own clnbs and committees ! When I saw all this mingled scene of crime, of vice, of disorder, of folly, and of madness, received by very many here, not with the horror and disgust which it ought to have produced, but with rap- ture and exultation, as some almost supernatural benefit showered down upon the race of mankind ; and when I saw that arrange- ments were publicly made for communicating to these islands their full share of these blessings, I thought myself bound to stand out, and by every means in my power to distinguish the ideas of a sober and virtuous liberty, (such as I thought our party had ever cultivated,) from that profligate, immoral, impious, and re- bellious licence, which, through the medium of every sort of dis- order and calamity, conducts to some kind or other of tyrannic domination. At first I had no idea that this base contagion had gained any considerable ground in the party. Those who were the first and most active in spreading it, were their mortal and declared ene- mies ; I mean the leading dissenters. They had long shown them- selves wholly adverse to, and unaUiable with, the party. They had shown it, as you know, signally, in 1784. At the time of the regency, (which, when Price's sermon appeared ', was stiU green and raw,) they had seized the opportunity of divisions amongst the great, to bring forward their democratic notions ; and the object against which they chiefly directed their seditious doctrines, and the passions of the vulgar, was your party ; and I confess they were in the right in their choice ; for they knew very well, that, as long as you were true to your principles, no considerable innovations could be made in the country ; and that this inde- ° This sermon was preached on the 4th November, 1789, at the Old Jewry Meeting House, to the Society for commemorating the Revolution in Great Britain, by Richard Price, D.D., &e. CORRESPONDENCE. 67 pendent embodied aristocracy would form an impenetrable fence against all their attempts to break into the constitution. When I came to town ^ though I had heard of Dr. Price's sermon, I had not read it. I dined the day of my arrival with our friend Dr. Walker King ; and there, in a large and mixed company, partly composed of dissenters, one of that description, a most worthy man, of learning, sense, and ingenuity, one of the oldest and best friends I had in the world, and no way indisposed to us, lamented that the dissenters never could be reconciled to us, or confide in us, or hear of our being possessed of the government of the country, as long as we were led by Fox ; — this was far from his own opinion ; but he declared that it was very general in that body, who regarded him, and spoke of him on all occasions, in a manner that one would not speak of some better sort of high- waymen. Of the rest of the party they had a good opinion ; but thought them weak men, and dupes, and the mere instruments of the person of whom they had conceived such unfounded ideas. I was warmed ; and continued, with vehemence, in a conversation which lasted some hours, to do justice to Mr. Fox ; and in as ample and strenuous a manner as I thought the duties of friend- ship, and a matter that touched the public interest, required. It is unnecessary to enter into further details on the subject. I went home, and, late as it was, before I went to bed, I read Dr. Price's sermon ; and in that very sermon (in which were aU the shocking sentiments and seditious principles which I have en- deavoured to expose) the leading feature was a personal invec- tive against Mr. Fox, — very much in the style and manner (a trifle, indeed, less coarse,) in which my worthy friend had repre- sented the general conversation of the dissenters, when Mr. Fox was the subject. It was, I think, but a day or two after that conversation and reading, that I met Mr. Sheridan at Lord North's. He was just come to town ; and, of himself, he spoke with great resentment of the dissenters for their treatment of Mr. Fox in other parts of the kingdom ; which from him I learned was as bad, particularly at Birmingham, as in London. Concerning the French revolution not a word passed between us. I felt as Mr. Sheridan did, and it does not rest on my single assertion. It is known to others, that some part of the asperity with which I expressed myself against these gentlemen, arose from my resentment for their in- curable, and, as I thought, treacherous animosity to Mr. Fox ; particularly when I knew that, during the whole of the preceding '' Towards the end of 1789 or beginning of 1790. F 2 68 COERESPONDENCE. summer, they were soliciting his friendship and connexion. How- ever, they knew Mr. Fox better than I did. The several shots they fired to bring him to, produced their effect. I take it for granted that pubhc principles, connected with magnanimity of sentiment, made him equally regardless of their enmity and of my friendship ; — regardless of my friendship, who was weak enough to adopt his cause with a warmth which his wisdom and temper condemned. What I had thrown down on the first reading of Price's De- claration and Correspondence with France, was only in a few notes, (though intended for pubUcation,) when Mr. Fox, to my great as- tonishment and sorrow, chose for his theme of panegyric on the French revolution, the behaviour of the French Guards. I said what occurred to me on that occasion '. The day ended with sen- timents not very widely divided, and with unbroken friendship. I do not think that at any period of my life I have given stronger proofs of my attachment to that gentleman and to his party, than I had done after that explanation, during the whole of that session and the next, both within and without doors. In the mean time the opinions, principles, and practices, which I thought so very mischievous, were gaining ground, particularly in our party. The festival of the fourteenth of July was cele- brated with great splendour for the first time '. There Mr. Sheridan made a strong declaration of his sentiments, which was printed. All that could be got together of the party were con- vened at the Shakespeare the night before ; that, as the expression was, they might go in force to that anniversary. Applications were made to some of the Prince of Wales's people, that it might appear to have his royal highness's countenance. These things, and many more, convinced me, that the best service which could be done to the party, and to the prince, was to strike a strong blow at those opinions and practices which were carrying on for their common destruction. As to the prince, I thought him deeply concerned that the ideas of an elective crown should not prevail. He had experienced, and you had all of you fully experienced, the peril of these doc- trines on the question of the Regency. You know that I en- deavoured, as well as I could, to supply the absence of Mr. Fox during that great controversy. You cannot forget that I sup- ported the prince's title to the regency upon the principle of his hereditary right to the crovra ; and I endeavoured to explode the ' Mr. Burlte probably refers to the debate on the 9th February, 1 790. 8 A dinner at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, on the 14th July, 1790, Earl Stanhope in the chair. CORRESPONDENCE. 69 false notions, drawn from what had been stated as the revolution maxims, by much the same arguments which I afterwards used in my printed reflections \ I endeavoured to show, that the heredi- tary succession could not be supported, whilst a person who had the chief interest in it was, during a virtual interregnum, excluded from the government ; and that the direct tendency of the mea- sure, as well as the grounds upon which it was argued, went to make the crown itself elective, contrary (as I contended) to the fundamental settlement made after the revolution. I meant to do service to the prince when I took this ground on the regency ; I meant to do him service when I took the same ground in my publication. Here the conduct of the party towards themselves, towards the prince, and (if with these names I could mix myself,) towards me, has been such as to have no parallel. The prince has been per- suaded not only to look with all possible coldness on myself, but to lose no opportunity of publicly declaring his disapprobation of a book written to prove that the crown, to which (I hope) he is to succeed, is not elective. For this I am in disgrace at Carlton House. The prince, I am told, has expressed his displeasure that I have not mentioned in that book his right to the regency ; I never was so astonished as when I heard this. In the first place, the persons against whom I maintained that controversy had said nothing at all upon the subject of the regency. They went much deeper. I was weak enough to think that the succession to the crown was a matter of other importance to his royal highness than his right to the regency. At a time when the king was in perfect health, and no question existing of arrangements to be made, on a supposition of his falling into his former, or any other grievous malady, it would have been an imprudence of the first magnitude, and such as would have hurt the prince most essentially, if it were to be supposed he had given me the smallest encouragement to have wantonly brought on that most critical discussion. Not one of the friends whom his royal highness " delighteth to honour, ''' have thought proper to say one word upon the subject, in par- liament or out of parliament. But the silence which in them is respectful and prudent, in me is disaffection. I shall say no more on this matter. The prince must have been strangely deceived. He is much more personally concerned, in all questions of succes- sion., than the king, who is in possession. Yet his majesty has received, with every mark of a gracious protection, my intended " " Mr. Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France, and on the proceedings in certain societies in London, relative to that event. In a letter intended to have been sent to a gentleman in Paris," 1790. 70 CORRESPONDENCE. service to his family. The prince has been made to believe it to be some sort of injury to himself. Those, the most in his favour and confidence, are avowed admirers of the French democracy. Even his attorney and his solicitor-general ", vi^ho, by their legal know- ledge and their eloquence as advocates, ought to be the pillars of his succession, are enthusiasts, public and declared, for the French revolution and its principles. These, my dear sir, are strange symptoms about a future court ; and they make no small part of that fear of impending mischief to this constitution, which grows upon me every hour. A Prince of Wales with democratic law- servants, with democratic political friends, with democratic personal favourites ! If this be not ominous to the crown, I know not what is. As to the party and its interests, in endeavouring to support the legal hereditary succession of the Prince of Wales, I consider their power as included in the assertion of his right. I could not say positively how soon the ideas they entertained might have recom- mended them to the favour of the reigning king. I did not, how- ever, conceive that, whatever their notions might be, the probability of their being called to the helm was quite so great under his present majesty as under a successor ; and that, therefore, the maintenance of the right of that successor, against those who at once attacked the settlement of the crown, and were the known, declared enemies of the party, was, in a political light, the greatest service I could do to that party, and more particularly to Mr. Fox ; infinitely more so than to the Duke of Portland, or Lord Fitz- william ; because, for many reasons, I am satisfied that these two noble persons are not so ill at St. James's as he is ; and that they (or one of them at least) are not near so well at Carlton House as Mr. Fox and Mr. Sheridan. According to the common principles of vulgar politics, this would be thought a service, not ill intended, and aimed at its mark with tolerable discretion and judgment. For this, the gentlemen have thought proper to render me obnoxious to the party, odious to the prince, (from whose future prerogative alone my family can hope for any thing,) and at least suspected by the body of my country. That is, they have endeavoured completely and funda- mentally to ruin me and mine, in all the ways in which it is in the power of man to destroy the interests and objects of man, whether in his friendship, his fortunes, or his reputation. But I thought there was another, and a more important point in view, in which what I had done for the public might eminently >» Mr. Erskine, afterwards lord-chancellor, and Mr. Pigott, afterwards attorney- general. CORRESPONDENCE. 71 serve the party, and in concerns of infinitely more importance to those who compose the major part of the body, than any share of power they might obtain. I considered the party as the particular mark of that anarchical faction; and that the principle of the French revolution which they preached up, would have them for its first and most grateful victims. It is against them, as a part of an aristocracy, that the nefarious principles of that grovelling rebellion and tyranny strike ; and not at monarchy, further than as it is supposed to be built upon an aristocratic basis. They, who would cheat the nobility and gentry of this nation to their ruin, talk of that monster of turpitude as nothing but the sub- version of monarchy. Far from it. The French pride themselves on the idea, however absurd, that theirs is a democracie royale. The name of the monarchy, and of the hereditary monarchy too, they preserve in France ; and they feed the person whom they call " king," with such a revenue, given to mere luxury and ex- travagance totally separated from aU provision for the state, as I believe no people ever before dreamed of granting for such purposes. But against the nobility and gentry they have waged inexpiable war. There are, at this day, no fewer than ten thousand heads of respectable families driven out of France ; and those who remain at home, remain in depression, penury, and continued alarm for their lives. You and I know that (in order, as I conceive, still to blind and delude the gentlemen of England,) the French faction here pretended that the persecution of the gentlemen of France could not last ; — that at the next election they would recover the consideration which belonged to them, and that we should see that country represented by its best blood, and by all its considerable property. They knew at the time that they were setting forward an imposture. The present assembly, the first born, the child of the strength of their constitution, demonstrates the value of their prediction. At the very instant in which they were making it, they knew, or they knew nothing, that the two hundred and fifty clubs which govern that country had settled their lists. They must have known that the gentlemen of France were not degraded and branded in order to exalt them to greater con- sequence than ever they possessed. Such they would have had, if they were to compose the whole, or even the major part, of an assembly which rules, in every thing legislative and executive, without any sort of balance or control. No such thing : — the assembly has not fifty men in it (I believe I am at the outside of the number) who are possessed of a hundred pounds a year, in any description of property whatsoever. About six individuals of enormous wealth, and thereby sworn enemies to the prejudice 72 CORRESPONDENCE. which affixes a dignity to virtuous well-born poverty, are in the number of the fifty. The rest are, what might be supposed, men whose names never were before heard of beyond their market- town. About four hundred of the seven are country practitioners of the law ; several of them the stewards and men of business who managed the affairs of gefitlemen, bishops, or convents ; who, for their merits towards their former employers, are now made the disposers of their lives and fortunes. The rest no one can give an account of, except of those who have passed to this temple of honour, through the temple of virtue called the house of correction. When the king asked the president who the gentlemen were who attended him with a message, the president answered, that he did not know one of them even by name. The gentlemen of this faction here, I am well aware, attribute this to the perverseness of the gentlemen themselves, who would not offer themselves as candi- dates. That they did not offer themselves is very true ; because they knew that they could appear at the primary assembhes only to be insulted, at best ; perhaps even murdered, as some of them have been ; and many more have been thi-eatened with assassinar tion. What are we to think of a constitution, as a pattern, from which the whole gentry of a country, instead of courting a share in it with eagerness and assiduity, fly as from a place of infection ? But the gentlemen of France are all base, vicious, servile, &c. &c. &c. Pray, let not the gentlemen of England be flattered to their destruction, by railing at their neighbours. They are as good as we are, to the full. If they were thus base and corrupt in their sentiments, there is nothing they would not submit to in order to have their share in this scramble for wealth and power. But they have declined it, from sentiments of honour and virtue, and the purest patriotism. One turns with pity and indignation from the view of what they suffer for those sentiments ; and, I must confess, my animosity is doubled against those amongst us, who, in that situation, can rail at persons who bear such things with fortitude, even supposing that they suffered for principles in which they were mistaken. But neither you, nor I, nor any fair man, can believe, that a whole nation is free from honour and real principle ; or that if these things exist in it, they are not to be found in the men the best born, and the best bred, and in those possessed of rank Which raises them in their own esteem, and in the esteem of others, and possessed of hereditary settlement in the same place, which secures, with an hereditary wealth, an hereditary inspection. That these should be all scoundrels, and that the virtue, honour, and public spirit of a nation should be only found in its attorneys, pettifoggers, stewards of manors, discarded officers of police, shop- CORRESPONDENCE. 73 boys, clerks of counting-houses, and rustics from the plough, is a paradox, not of false ingenuity, but of envy and malignity. It is an error, not of the head, but of the heart. The whole man is turned upside down before such an inversion of all natural senti- ment and all natural reason can take place. I do not wish to you, no, nor to those who applaud such scenes, angry as I am with them, masters of that description. Visible as it was to the world, that not the despotism of a prince, but the condition of a gentleman, was the grand object of attack; I thought I should do service to a party of gentlemen, to caution the public against giving countenance to a project calculated for the ruin of such a party. When such an attempt was not excused, even as well-intended, there was but one way of accounting for the conduct of gentlemen towards me ; it is, that from my hands they are resolved not to accept any service. Be it so. They are rid of an incumbrance ; and I retire to repose of body and mind, with a repose of conscience too ; perfect, with regard to the party and the public, however I may feel myself, as I do, faulty and deficient in other respects. The only concern I feel is, that I am obliged to continue an hour longer in parliament. Whilst I am there, except in some deep constitutional question, I shall take no part. Lord Fitzwilliam and the Duke of Portland shall not be seen voting one way in the House of Lords whilst I vote another in the House of Commons ; and any vote of mine, by which I may add even my mite of contri- bution towards supporting the system or advancing the power of the new French whigs, I never will give. That corruption has cast deep roots in that party, and they vegetate in it (however dis- credited amongst the people in general) every day with greater and greater force. The particular gentlemen who are seized with that malady (such I must consider it), have, to my thinking, so com- pletely changed their minds, that one knows no longer what to depend upon, or upon what ground we stand. Some of them (besides the two leaders) are, indeed, so high in character, and of such great abilities, that their mistake, if such it be, must make a most mischievous impression. I know they say, that they do not want to introduce these things here, &c. &c., — but this is a poor business, while they propagate all the abstract principles, and exalt to the stars the realization of them at our door. They are sublime metaphysicians ; and the horrible consequences produced by their speculations affect them not at all. They only ask whether the proposition be true ? — Whether it produces good or evil, is no part of their concern. This long letter, my dear friend, is for you ; but so for you, as that you may show it to such of our friends who, 74 COERESPONDENCE. though they cannot in prudence support, will not in justice con- demn me. My dear sir, Most faithfully, your most obliged and obedient humble servant, Edm. Bukke. Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to Richard Burke, Jim., Esq. January 29, 1792. My evee dear Richard, I hardly know whether I desired to hear from you. To hear of you, and of your health and spirits, was all that your mother and I required. I knew too well how little any advice given at a distance from the scene of action is capable of doing. However, though I did not expect it, your letter was not the less acceptable to us all. It made you present to us. It was a picture of your virtue, benevolence, firmness, vigour of mind, and your true fortitude. The same impulse that directs the sun in his course from east to west, has whirled you from Coblentz to Dublin. I trust he will make the proceeding of the little orb, in the same course, give his proportion of benefit in one part, though he has failed in the other ; or, if the good is not obtained by one day's journey, it will warm and prepare the ground for the effect of another. Though you say prudence with regard to yourself is not your forte, and you say truly, yet I hope you are convinced that an attention to oneself is a necessary condition to the care and protection of others ; and that safety, good will, and co-operating minds are necessary instruments in all great and good designs. You tell me the matter will have an argument, and an argument supported by great ability. I con- fess I wish it could be formally done by counsel at the bar, as well as in the House. This I know will be difficult, as the petitioners can only petition as so many individuals, and can have no corporate capacity or delegation whatsoever. But quaere, whether this very thing, showing the mischief that happens from their degraded situations, may not be used as a sort of argument to desire a dispensation with the rule ? This must be a matter of prudence, as to practice ; as to argument, it is forcible, and indeed presents itself in a thousand faces. Let the individuals who sign the petition (if this should be a mode adopted) modestly hint, that they appear before a body whose authority and competence they most cheerfully recognize, and to whose wisdom, benevolence, and justice they willingly submit ; but that they have not the presumption to call them their representatives, in the whole or in any part. But why CORRESPONDENCE. 75 do I hint to you that to which you are infinitely, both from yourself and your situation, more able to judge on 1 Take every thing I say but as a hint thrown out. If this be said, the wording of it ought to be very nice, so as to express the thing, if possible, with- out saying it ; that they wish themselves in a situation in which it would not be an unjustifiable degree of presumption, &c. &c. &c. The matter in itself ought to be firm, but the tone melancholy, querulous, and almost creeping on the ground. They ought to notice the arts used to divide them ; to calumniate their intentions ; to' represent them to be bad citizens because they aspire to be free subjects ; and the addresses of those who, jealous of their franchise, yet are not generous enough to suffer others even to wish for the same enjoyment, though they never had any provocation from them, and have ever cultivated them with all the good ofiices in their power, &c. &c. Surely they ought not to be passed over in silence. Stay whilst there is hope, but no longer than is necessary for the arrangements for a future hope founded on the present despair. Let this committee stick together, and sooner or later they cannot fail. Their failure ought to be instantly followed with an address to the king, expressive of inviolable loyalty, &c. &c., and a bitter complaint (managed in the terms) of those whose calumnies have prevented them from any share in a constitutional and public mode of showing their good affections to the crown. Swift has but just finished a copy of the letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe", and John King has just wrote to me for it to show to his principal \ I have sent it to him, desiring that if it could not instantly lae perused, it might be sent immediately to my brother, to be transmitted to you. I see Langrishe does not communicate with you. Poor Sir Joshua still alive, and a trifle better. Your mother's ten thousand blessings, and the blessings of all here, with those of your ever affectionate and grateful father, Edm. Bcteke. P.S. Ought not you to be delicate about the communication in any extent of my letter to Langrishe without his leave, and the omitting such parts as he may choose as applying particularly to himself 1 If made public, it may be more generalized. " Published in the fourth volume of the present edition of Mr. Burke's Works. 1 Lord Grenville. 76 CORRESPONDENCE. The Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to Richard Burke, Jun., Esq. February 19, 1792. My dearest Richaed, I shall say nothing of our heavy loss ' ; no words can easily express it. His life and his death, and all the former and latter acts of both, show it. It has involved me in some business. I could not trust the post in any manner, to state to you the ap- parently unaccountable conduct of the ministers, and the manner in which you and I stand with them. Whether they at aU read the ample letters which I know they received from you, I cannot tell. This I know, that they seem governed by the counter-repre- sentations they receive from the Oastle. The only impression they seem to have received is that of terror and perplexity. They find themselves well, and would be glad to remain in quiet, though three millions, or three hundred millions, passed their nights with very little rest. But it will be the affair of your committee to be noisy and importunate beggars ; and not to suffer those to enjoy any rest who will give them none. When I was called first to town, early in the year, by poor Sir Joshua's alarming situation, I offered to see Dundas, who sent me word that he would gladly see me, but that the matters on which we should converse would take up some hours. This marked confidence, and a disposition to confer on business, of which your affairs were by far the most important part. The rest related to India matters. King's discourse to me breathed the same spirit as his message. When I came to town, it was in vain that I attempted to see him. At length an inter- view was obtained, as through solicitation. He did not open a word of discourse about Ireland. I introduced it. He preserved a dead silence, and heard me like a man who wished an unpleasant conversation at an end. Nothing could be more completely cold, distant, and even repulsive to me, than the conduct and manner of ministers in this and in every other point. As to India matters, Dundas talked to me, without all sort of comparison, with more openness on the subject, when I was in the very meridian heat of opposition to him, than he did then. You know my memorial about the French affairs. Lord Grenville had it, as I thought, rather at his own desire. When I wished it back, he sent it to me without a word of observation. King told me that he wished to show it (as I had hinted) to the great man of all : I sent it. It is with him, and has been long. No answer from any quarter. It is plain they wish to be rid of my interference in any thing ; though ^ The death of Sir Joshua Reynolds. CORRESPONDENCE. 77 I never showed, nor indeed have I any disposition to meddle in their affairs, properly ministerial; nor in any respect whatever, except in such things as belong to all ministers, and are of general concern to the empire, and perhaps to mankind. But these are, of all matters, those in which they are the most indifferent. So far as to my situation with regard to ministers ; and such certainly is yours. As to opposition, and my relation to them, things remain nearly as they were ; no approximation on the part of Fox to me, or of me to him, or to or from any of his people, except general civility when seldom we meet. I never stay in the House to hear any debates, much less to divide on any question. On the affair of Hastings we converse just as we did. Fox sitting by me at Hastings' trial, spoke to me about the business of the Catholics of Ireland ; and expressed himself, as I thought he would, very strongly in their favour ; but with little hopes of any thing being done. He observed, he said, a close agreement between the chiefs of the opposition and the Gastle ; and that he knew of the Duke of Leinster only who was favourable to their enfranchisement. As to the Duke of Portland and Lord Fitzwilliam, they are, I think, rather more cordial than ever. But the difference between their numerous societies and my extremely scanty society is such, that we do not very often see one another, except when I have dined with the duke, or he, or Lord F. call upon me. In this state of things, your conduct ought to be full of guard and caution, without abating the steady uniformity of pursuit, on which every thing depends. I am persuaded that this business ought not to end without a strong petition directly delivered to the king, and with a declaration made in all the languages in Europe. That to the king should be mere heads, but perhaps they will not be the less lucid, or the less forcible. I should depend much on the effect of such a measure properly executed, and I think we should not differ a great deal about the mode. The danger is of your people's dispersing whilst their enemies are combined, powerful, and (though without any reason) highly irritated. I have seen a letter from Mr. Keogh to Dr. Hussey ", written with infinite force, spirit, and justice ; but there is a proposal in it, which is so capable of being perverted to evil, though very well intended, that I would not for the world it was thrown beyond the hmits of the most perfect confidence. God Almighty . bless you ! I am called off. This goes by O'Hara *. These passages must be altered, and then, so far from having = The Rev, Dr. Hussey, who was subsequently president of the College of Maynooth. Mr. Keogh was secretary to the Roman CathoUc Committee. ^ Probably Charles O'Hara, Esq. M.P., for the county of Sligo. 78 COERESPONDENCE. any objection to Dr. Hussey's presenting it, and attending him, as Mr. Keogh wishes on that occasion, I rather desire it. The letter, bating the critical offer', and the .^lOO quaUfication, is in every point right ; and it breathes a spirit of manly indignation, which ought to be encouraged and kept up. The dfi'lOO qualification is not a thing to be even whispered, because it would tend to make the world believe, what undoubtedly has no foundation in the mind of the proposer, — that, after all has been said, the committee are like Lord Kenmare and his friends, who look only to the accom- modation of a few gentlemen, and leave the common people, who are the heart and strength of the cause of the Catholics, and are the great objects in all popular representation, completely in the lurch. What has been proposed is full high enough, and it ought to be stuck to. Perhaps nothing has been got by going so far. The effect of reading the newspaper has been such, on my mind, even without the acting part which you describe, that I am not yet in a proper temper to make even observations of asperity upon it. Well, it is proof enough, if any thing were before wanting to prove, how dreadful a thing a popular representative power is, to those who are subjected to it without participation. The great thing which 1 wish to know is this, — ^for on this the whole depends, — are the Catholics irritated, or are they frightened with this contumelious treatment ? If they are frightened, and by their fright induced to dissolve their union, or to abate one of their efforts, or abandon any one of their claims, it is all over with them. The scantiness of their claims has produced no other effect than to give people a colour to say, that even in their own conscience they are satisfied they are entitled to very little, and that whatever they may pretend, great caution ought to be used in trusting them with any sort of constitutional liberty. This is vile chicane ; but as little future ground should be given for it as possible. This bill of Langrishe's is not only no relief, but it is mischievous and insolent, and ought to be declared against, in some way or other, very publicly, and rejected wholly, with decency, but firmness. That is, with thanks for intentions ; but their wants and feelings not known, &c. &c. Perhaps the House of Lords ought to be * * *° against it, or it may be followed farther. Thanks ought to be very formally given, by a deputation, to all the gentlemen who voted for them. It is no great labour, and will be useful. Pubhc acknowledgments ought also to be made. Grattan's speech is a noble performance. He is a great man, eloquent in conception and in language, and when that is the case, being on the right side is of = viz. — the proposal described above, as capable of being perverted to evil. ° An illegible word in the MS. CORRESPONDENCE. 79 some importance to the perfection of what is done. It is of great consequence to a country to have men of talents and courage in it, though they have no power. I thought, when I saw the exculpatory pubUcation of the com- mittee, that it was all good, and in many places admirable, and that I was able to trace not only your manner of thinking, but here and there your expressions in it ; but I was told that it was the performance of a number of gentlemen, members of the committee, and lawyers. Perhaps it may as well pass for such, even if you have written it, or some part of it. You have written long letters to Dundas. I wonder at it ; for I know the length only furnished him with an excuse not to read them. The ministers here consider Ireland only as an object that they do not know how to give up ; but tliey take no sort of trouble about it, and do by no means thank you for any that you may take. I hope, however, you have copies for my satisfaction, and, possibly, one day for your own justification. Government has abandoned you and itself ; and the interest of your clients is now your sole consideration. That interest requires the utmost steadiness, not the least heat or tumult. Saturday is the funeral of our dear Sir Joshua. It will be greatly attended. May God greatly and powerfully protect you ! Never had you or any man a greater call for temper, — and oh ! use it all. Do you know a Catholic, Mr. Strange, who has Ijeen spreading idle tales and speculations about you ! The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to the Rev. Robert Bodge '. Duke-street, St. James's, February 29, 1792. My very dear Sir, Your kind and frequent recollection of me in several parts of Europe, and the favourable impressions you have been pleased to give of my intentions to several persons of weight and distinction, give me the greatest pride and pleasure. I hope that you added every where, that I had the honour of being amongst those who love and respect you the most. It would add much to my reputa- tion ; for I think it impossible you should go into any country hi ' A beneficed clergyman of the county of Cork ; at this time travelling on the Con- tinent with Lord Boyle, eldest son of the Earl of Shannon. He had previously travelled with the present Earl of Cork, then Lord Dungarvan, by whose father he was recommended to Lord Shannon. Mr. Dodge was related to the family of General William Haviland, of whom mention is made in this letter. 80 CORRESPONDENCE. which your understanding, manners, and temper, will not obtain consideration for you. I hope every thing from what I hear of Lord Boyle's own natural talents and dispositions, and I think nothing can be wanting to a young person who sees Europe in your company. You have gone through all the standing power and greatness of the world ; you are now amidst the ruins of what is fallen. Power of every name and kind. Power of force, and power of opinion. Italy is deprived of these ; but her grand and fertile nature and her fine position remain. The monuments of art, and taste, and magnificence, which in her prosperity were her ornament, are still our lesson ; and teach, and will teach us, as long as we have sense enough to learn from them, the spirit with which we ought, when we are able, to decorate a country now the most flourishing that exists. These will give her dignity and glory, when her opulence and her power are gone away, and will perpetuate to other ages and other nations the elegance and taste we have had from Italy. I am sure you must have been struck on viewing the splendid ruins, and half-ruins, of the imperial and pontifical Italy, with the littleness and meanness (though not wholly without taste and elegance and neatness) of every thing in this country, although more opulent than any which ever was per- haps in the world. What is London ? Clean, commodious, neat ; but, a very few things indeed excepted, an endless addition of littleness to littleness, extending itself over a great tract of land. This will lead you to the general principles which divert wealth to objects of permanence and grandeur, and to those which confine it to personal convenience and partial luxury. Mrs. Haviland grows, I think, every day better, and more and more enamoured of her residence in Beconsfield, of which place she is the soul, as she would be of a more extended sphere ; as very few are equal to her in vivacity, good-nature, and a disposition to make every thing about her pleased and happy. She is well seconded by her sister. Here we have little news ; the national wealth, credit, and prosperity, go on augmenting from day to day ; we can almost see it grow. The admirers of confusion become almost ashamed of their bad taste, and I have the pleasure of assuring you, that they are neither in heart nor credit. I could wish that the government of Ireland, and the reigning gentlemen there, would take the opportunity of this halcyon calm, to remove with temper and prudence all real cause of discontent from their country, and to unite all sorts of people in an interest in a con- stitution made for the union and happiness of men. My son is in Ireland. He has long been one of the law-agents to the Catholics. You know the firmness and industry with which he acts, in any COKRESPONDENCE. 81 cause which may do good to any description of British subjects. Mrs. Burke and all here desire to be most cordially remembered to you. I think you will partake in our common satisfaction on the promotion of John King '. If you find an Abbate Leonat^ be so good to thank him for the letter he has done me the honour to write to me ; and tell him I hope shortly to be able to send him a collection of my pamphlets, that he may choose such as he thinks may divert and interest him next in the translation. I have the honour to be, with the most sincere respect and regard, My dear sir, Your most faithful and obedient humble servant, Edm. Burke. I see every day our dear Lord Inchiquin, and I have never seen him better. The Right Hon. Edmund Bwrhe to Richard Burjce, Jun., Esq. Beeonsfield, March, 1792. My dearest Richard, A thousand thanks for your letter to your uncle, which we mean to send this night to him on the circuit. I hope you have got the long letter and pacquet I wrote last. I shall not say much now, as I write chiefly to put you in mind of what perhaps you had forgot, that is, that you have a chaise lying useless to you and us at Holyhead ; and that, if you mean to take any little trips in Ireland, surely in common sense you ought to send for it. An application to any of the captains will make them attend to it carefully. Hastings' business going off to the return of the judges. We are here ; we came down yesterday. Miss Palmer, Mr. Grwatkin, and Mrs. Gwatkin, are just this minute arrived. I begin to think that these women look better already ; they are to stay here for some time. Every thing turned out fortunately for poor Sir Joshua, from the moment of his birth to the hour I saw him laid in the earth. Never was a funeral of ceremony attended with so much sincere concern of all sorts of people. The day was favourable ; the order not broken or interrupted in the smallest degree. Your uncle, who was back in the procession, was struck almost motionless at his entering at the great west door. The body was just then entering the choir, and the organ began to open, * Mr. John King, whose family has heen mentioned in a former note, had lately heen appointed under-secretary of state for the home department. VOL. II. G 82 CORRESPONDENCE. and the long black train before him produced an astonishing eifect on his sensibility, on considering how dear to him the object of that melancholy pomp had been. Every thing, I think, was just as our deceased friend would, if living, have wished it to be ; for he was, as you know, not altogether indifferent to this kind of observances. He gave, indeed, a direction that no expenses should be employed ; but his desire to be buried at St. Paul's justified what we have done ; and all circumstances demanded it. I don't think the whole charge will come up to six hundred pound. The academy bore their ovra share of the expense. We do not know his circumstances exactly, because we have not been able to estimate the immense collection of pictures, drawings, and prints. They stood him in more than twenty thousand pound. Taking things at the very worst, I do not think Miss Palmer can have less, when all legacies are discharged, than thirty thousand pound. It was owing, I believe, to his being obliged to take to his bed sooner than he expected, that poor Sir Joshua neglected even to name his nephews, the Palmers. This is the only unlucky thing. They are'deeply hurt, and I do not much wonder at it. It is plain that it is Hastings' plan to continue the trial until peers, commoners, and spectators, run away from it. Law' was three days in opening, but he spent more liours in those three days, than I had done in my four. Plumer ' has spent three days in opening the Benares charge ', and he has not got so far as Hastings' proposition to go up to Benares. He has already spent more hours than Fox and Grrey did in going through the whole. If he proceeds on the same plan, and gives length in proportion to matter, I think he ought to take at least six days more. It is impossible to bring it to an end this session. In my opinion, they make very little way indeed ; though the doctrine, that no agree- ment barred against the rights of sovereignty, seemed to have made the impression intended by the counsel ; but that cannot last long before a discussion of the point. My mind is much bent on you and on your business. You see by my letter how much I approve your plans. I take it for granted you have received it. I shall write to you more fully by a proper opportunity. If your clients relax for a moment, they are gone. Let the storm of addresses blow over. Let fury and treachery do their work. Reason and justice will prevail. Do they think, unfortunate and insane tyrants as they are, that slavery will be rendered more tolerable by adding contumely to it 2 Since 9 The late Lord EUenborough. ' Afterwards solicitor-general, vice-chancellor, and master of the Rolls. '' i. n, the defence against the Benares charge. CORRESPONDENCE. 83 the beginning of time, so outrageous a proceeding as that on the petition * has not been heard of. This shows that the petition ought to have been made reasoned and pathetic, that the treatment of it might have been rendered more striking. However, the Catholics were perfectly in the right to present one of some sort or other. They had been undone, past redemption, if they had suffered themselves to be intimidated from an application. The debate was wholly with them. Grattan's incomparable speech, I think, ought to make a little separate pamphlet. The debate ought to be put into the newspapers here. There is now suffi- cient vacancy for it. I have just read Jones''s letter on this subject. I wish some things had been omitted, but it is as spirited and manly a performance as I think I have seen. The appearance of it, too. at this time is seasonable. Byrnes's Dublin publication of my letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe was so blundering as to vex me. He makes me say, and that at a critical point, the direct reverse of my sense. Debret brought it to me very luckily before he printed it, and I corrected the worst parts. I see, in his second edition, he too has chosen to amend it into a blunder ; but it is a blunder of not much importance. He printed a large edition of two thousand ; what is next 1 know not. I hear it is well spoken of by the opposition here. I think you quite right in ^ The petition of the Roman Cathohc committee had been presented on Saturday, the I8th Feb., by Mr. Egan, M.P. for Taliagh, and was ordered to lie on the table. On Monday, Feb. 20, the Right Hon. David La Touehe, M.P. for Newcastle, moved that the petition be rejected ; this motion was seconded by the Right Hon. George Ogle, M.P. for the county of Wexford, and, after a long debate, was carried ; ayes 208, noes 23. The following is the petition whose rejection Mr. Burke characterizes as such an outrageous proceeding. " To the Right Hon. the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses, in Parliament assembled. " The Petition of the undersigned Roman Catholics, on behalf of themselves, and the Roman Catholics of Ireland, humbly showeth, *' That, as the House has thought it expedient to direct their attention to the situa- tion of the Roman Catholics of Ireland, and to a further relaxation of the penal statutes still subsisting against them, they beg leave, with all humihty, to come before the House, with the most heartfelt assurance of the wisdom and justice of Parliament, which is at all times desirous most graciously to attend to the petitions of the people ; they, therefore, humbly presume to submit to the House their entreaty, that they should take into their consideration, whether the removal of some of the civil incapa- cities under which they labour, and the restoration of the petitioners to some share in the elective franchise, which they enjoyed long after the revolution, will not tend to strengthen the Protestant state, add new vigour to industry, and afford protection and happiness to the Catholics of Ireland ; that the petitioners refer with confidence to their conduct for a century past, to prove their uniform loyalty, and submission to the laws, and to corroborate their solemn declaration, that if they obtain from the justice and benignity of parliament, such relaxation from certain incapacities, and a partici- pation in the franchise which will raise them to the rank of free men, their gratitude must be proportioned to the benefit ; and that, enjoying some share in the happy con- stitution of Ireland, they will exert themselves with additional zeal in its conservation." 84 CORRESPONDENCE, all your schemes. What is that unfortunate man Lord Kenmare doing? He is worthily represented by Sir Boyle Eoche. To make that ridiculous creature a peer, he sells three millions of his countrymen and brethren. Greater mischiefs happen often from folly, meanness, and vanity, than from the greater sins of avarice and ambition. AU here salute you most cordially, and to God I commend you; wishing my best love to all friends in Dublin. Is the provost returned, and how are you there? I suppose Lord Charle^nont is cold to you. How is the Duke of Leinster ? The Bight Hon. Edmwnd Burke to Edmund Malone, Esq.* March 18, 1792. My dear Sir, After Laurence and I had turned our thoughts a thousand ways, we could think of nothing absolutely to our own minds. To find something appropriate to his art, and to the immortality of his fame, is the desideratum. If we could not find any thing that combined these objects, what were we to do ? Why, as the tablet is small, and on a monument, and that the emblems point out the art, the inscription must refer to the fame which triumphs over the tomb. Your first motto, " et statuent, &c. V is a promise of a monu- ment, engraved as an inscription on a monument. The next should have no more than the " inventas, (fee.'" But this supposes not an improvement, not an absolute excellence in an art, but the invention of the art itself; and the line after '■'■ quique sui memores^'' plainly alludes, not to the endearing virtues of private life, but to great, public, and heroic virtue. Besides, perhaps, the lines are too common. Laurence has just opened upon a passage in Tacitus, de Causis^, which, with a little alteration, will, I really think, do, if the tablet will hold it. " Sincera et integra [et nullis pramtatibus detoria] natura toto pectore arripuit artem [Aowestojw''"]. * The celebrated critic and commentator of Shakspeare. He was named in the will of Sir Joshua Reynolds (who died on the 23rd of February in this year) as joint exe- cutor with Mr. Burke. The inscription discussed in this letter was for an ornamented engraved card of thanks, to be presented to those distinguished persons who attended the great painter's funeral. The motto taken from Tacitus was finally adopted. 5 jEneidos lib. vi. ' " De Oratoribus sive de causis oorruptse eloquentiee dialogus, cap. 28. ' The entire passage runs thus : Sic Corneliam Gracchorum ; sic Aureham Csesaris ; sic Attiam Augusti matrem prsefuisse educationibus, eic produxisse principes liberos CORRESPONDENCE. 85 If the whole be too long, what is between the brackets may be left out. Here are some others for your consideration : — " Mussabat tacito [medicina] pictura timore," from Lucretius, altered ' ; or from Virgil the last of these two lines : — llUe quidem ad superos, quorum se devovet aris,} " Succedet famd invusque per oraferetur ''." Your note for the bottom is the thing, with the addition only of " the family," and then it will stand thus : — " The executors and family of Sir Joshua Reynolds return thanks for the tribute of respect paid to departed genius and virtue, by your attendance at the funeral of that illustrious painter and most amiable man, in St. Paul's Cathedral, on Saturday, March 3rd, 1792." Miss Palmer and Mrs. Gwatkin ' give a thousand thanks for the pains you have taken. They think the print very elegant. They propose being in tovrai to-morrow. Best regards to Mr. Metcalf. Adieu, my dear sir. And believe me truly and faithfully yours, Edm. Bueke. The Right Hon. Edmund BwrJce to Bichard Burke, Jun., Esq. My deaeest Eichaed, I have only now time to tell you that the emperor is dead, and the report, by poison. Cazalfes and a Breton friend of his, once a victim of the Bastile, now a suffering aristocrat, came in upon us just at dinner. As they had sat down to cards, came in Wood- ford, very kindly to inform us all of the death of the emperor. It is thought he is dead of poison. His eldest son ' is about twenty- four, little known, and little heard of. The agreement was made, but not executed, for choosing him King of the Romans. This affair, by diverting the minds of the people of Europe from the affairs of France, wiU enable the dominant faction there to bully the little princes on the Rhine, and possibly to make an insurrec- tion amongst them. Though Cazalfes had little to hope from the accepimus, quse disciplina ac severitas eo pertinebat, ut sincera, et Integra, et nullis pravitatibus detorta, uniuscujusque natura toto statim pectore arriperet artes honestas. Tac. de Oratoribus, § 28. * De Rerum Natura, lib. vi. ^ ^neidos lib. xii. ^ Nieces of Sir Joshua Reynolds. ^ Francis, late Emperor of Austria. 86 CORRESPONDENCE. emperor, he is confounded at his loss. He was, however, fixed on his throne ; and if he were disposed to a right use of his power, he had power to use. Now this young prince has a most difficult card to play. The King of Prussia will rule the roast. God knows what will happen ; but things look cloudily for the aris- tocrates. If it should happen that this poisoning should be attributed to some mad monk, as amongst chances the very thing may happen, it wUl be brought to bear against Catholics; and what is worse, against religion every where. Miss Palmer and the Gwatkins are here ; and the Havilands dine. Laurence, Cuppage, and Nagle, came one after the other, so we are as full as we can hold ; and I can say no more to you. I shall write at large. Lord Fitzwilliam has Oazalfes and the Bintinnayes to dine with him on Tuesday. Bintinnaye is going to publish. They are all to be off at the end of the week for Ooblentz. Your uncle set off not very well, but we have a letter from him in good spirits. May God bless and preserve you ! The Bight Hon. Edmrnid Burhe to Richard Burke, Jwn., Esq. March 20, 1792. My deaeest Richard, Your last letter, as all yours do, makes me very happy. Walker' has received one from you, as has John'. They are of the same purport as ours, and therefore all that we can expect under the present circumstances. I am pleased that you are on confidential terms with Grattan* and those who took the manly part which he did on that monstrous, unheard of, shocking, profligate, and unpar- liamentary calling the petition of the Catholics from the table, in order to throw it out with indignity and insult. God forbid, for the sake of general humanity, in which they partake in spite of them- selves, that they' should suffer the punishment, which their folly and wickedness calls for, from God and man. I am glad that you are on decent terms even with them ; and pray, as far as in you lies, keep the terms of common society with those with whom you can keep no other. All the possible charities of life ought to be cultivated, and where we can neither be brethren nor friends, let us be kind neighbours and pleasant acquaintance. The Protestants of Ireland are just like the Catholics ; — the cat looking out of the window, and the cat looking in at the window. The difference of 3 King. * The Right Hon. Henry Grattan, at this time a member of the Irish House of Commons. ^ The Orange party in the Irish House of Parliament. CORRESPONDENCE. 87 being in or out of power is the only difference between them ; and power is a very corrupting thing, especially low and jobbish power. This makes the Protestants a trifle worse, as servility makes the Catholics a little worse on the other hand ; but that fault of servility since my time of observation is a little mended. The old ones indeed, who had remembered with indignation a slavery which was yet but crude, and had still kept up something of the spirit of the struggle, were not debased. The second growth (most of all they who touched the first growth the nearest), and those whom I had seen in their meridian when I began life, whether Catholics or con- verts, were, for the greater part, very low and abject. Such was Anthony Malone°, though only the son of a convert ; and such was a relation of ours, John Fitzgibbon, a convert himself. The last, however, had the most, by far, of a firm and manly character. Had he lived, he would have been astonished rather more than edified at the zeal of his son'. My last conversation with him was at Mill- town, in 1766. We dined tSte-a-tete^ and he spoke to me like a good Irishman. Religion, as such, made no part of our conversa- tion then, or at any former time ; but the condition of his country- men and blood, on account of that religion, from the insane prejudices and furious temper then raging in the lower part of the prevailing faction, seemed to make a proper impression upon him ; although the desire of fortune, the fear of raising disturbance to his declining days, and his ambition with regard to his family, as well as the habits of fear and constraint, hindered him from taking any proper part. However, his mind was right, both as a lawyer and as a man that wished well to his country. I well remember, that the day before, or immediately after, I dined with him, I dined with the then chancellor Bowes'. We talked a great deal on the then state of Ireland. He said, and I believe without meaning to please me, (I am sure he thought his death to be, as it turned out, very near,) that he had been under a very great error relative to Ireland, to which, though a stranger, he said he had always wished well ; and that for near forty years together he had, under that error, been doing an incredible deal of mischief, as attorney-general, or prime-sergeant, (I forget which,) as chief baron, and for some time " Mr. Malone was an eminent member of the Irish parliament. In 1740 he was appointed prime-sergeant, from which office he was dismissed in ] 754, in consequence of having taken an active part in the House of Commons in favour of its riglit to dis- pose, without the precious consent of the Crown, of money already raised and unappro- priated. In 1757 he was appointed chancellor of the exchequer, but was removed in I76O. He died in May, 1776. His nephew, Richard Malone, was created Lord Sun- derlin in 1785. Vide Lodge's Irish Peerage. ' John, first Earl of Clare, afterwards lord chancellor of Ireland. » Lord chancellor of Ireland fx-om 1757 to 1767, created Lord Bowes in 1758. 88 COERESPONDENCE. as chancellor. That a long experience had taught him at length the greatness of his mistake, and that he was extremely sorry that he could not promise himself to be able to make any amends for it, in the short time he had to live, but that he would take care, that by no forwardness of his any further mischief should be done by the penal laws. He was a man not much above the ordinary pitch for compass or penetration, but expressed the ideas he had admirably well. He had a sort of proud, formal, antiquated dignity, with a certain air of great quality, to which, however, he had no preten- sions. He was suspected of strange vices, and possessed no real esteem, though, as his fortune grew, people bowed to him. He had, however, no malignity in his nature : and as soon as he found that the reigning family supposed its safety might be consistent with the prosperity of Ireland, he was ready to fall in with ideas which had more sense and good-nature in them than his unaccount- able Anglicism, whiggism, and Protestantism, which in those days stood with many, particularly with all the rising men, in the place of honour, conscience, and public spirit. Such I found the few that were left in Dublin, when I was there in the autumn of 1766. As to those who fill the present stage, I do not think them at all infected with the old prejudices. They are jobbers, as their fathers were ; but with this difference, their fathers had false principles. The present race, I suspect, have none. From this indication, if I am right in it, I may suppose much good, or much evil, as they are managed. In 1 766, in the governing people, the old false principles were quite worn out. In the squirehood, the pretence of them for the purposes of insolence, oppression, and low provincial politics, stUl existed ; but that shameful rage in Munster was very nearly exhausted, so that things were as I thought more favourable than they had been in 1761 and 1763, to a real reformation. I think they continued so until a little time before you got to Ireland, where I discontinue : — for now you know the theatre better than I do. How they came to change, so as apparently to produce as great a malignity (with a more indecent display of it) as could have been at any former period, I cannot divine, nor shall I be able, in all probability, to do so until I see you. I began by speaking of the character of the Protestants with you. I think it not radically bad ; on the contrary, they have a reasonable share of good-nature. If they could be once got to think that Catholics were human crea- tures, and that they lost no job by thinking them such, I am convinced they would soon, very soon indeed, be led to show some regard to their country. I have written a great deal in the form of letters to you, and had much more to say, but as you have given me no answer to CORRESPONDENCE. 89 the question I asked you, — whether you thought any thing more under my name might be useful to your course in Ireland or here, I have stopped short. If you think it proper that I should write, perhaps a much sharper than what I wrote to Langrishe, and stronger, might be otherwise addressed. Here, the formless letter I have written to Langrishe has been of a good deal of service. The Cathohcs' short apology has been printed by Debret, and is much liked. I think it ought to be circulated. Your committee ought to be at that expense, which I don't think will exceed ten pounds. I will do it at hazard. I was quite sure it was yours, though the committee of lawyers who drew it were named to me, man by man, by Dr. Hussey. Who told him this story I know not. I think I never saw so much in so small a compass. One sentence only, where you close the climax of remedial proceeding by parliament, is a little embarrassed. This only requires the parenthesis to be put by itself, as a sentence independent after the other, and it would be as clear as one could wish. The whole tone, temper, arguments, and reflections, are admirable ; one or two sentences perhaps are too refined. I do not mean that they are not solid, far from it. Perhaps they are too profound. ! what a shocking way my letter to Langrishe is printed in ! In Debret's edition I have corrected it. How stand you with Langrishe ? How with Lord Oharlemont? How with the Duke of Leinster? How with Scott ' I How in the College ? I was not able to show the attention I wished to Hutchinson here ; but I am charmed with the wisdom, the courage, and the dignity of proceeding of his whole family. I have read and heard a good deal of it. I am per- suaded you do not overrate it in your accounts. Agenda. — 1. Get the books out of Dr. OampbeU's hands. Let him not trifle with you. I have trifled in giving them to him. 2. Let an honest and sure hand copy for you the whole of the affidavits (so far as relate to Armagh) contained in the rascally collection in the college relative to the pretended massacre in 1641; particularly an account of the correspondence with Owen O'Neil, then in Flanders, which is a longish piece. The affidavits relative to the besieging and taking the Church of Armagh from Saturday, October the 3rd (as I think), to the Tuesday following. I am sure, wicked as they are, and mostly hearsay, they refute fully the false stories produced on their credit by Temple. Leland went over them with me and poor Bowdens, long since dead. AVe agreed about them ; but when he began to write history, he thought only of himself and the bookseller; — for his history was " Probably Lord Earlsfort ; by which title he was created a peer in 1784, afterwards Earl of Clonmel, and chief justice of the King's Bench. 90 COREESPONDENCE. written at my earnest desire, but the mode of doing it varied from his first conceptions. Had he been more firm, he would have sold his work quite as well as he did. When I left Dublin in 1764, there was a dealer in old goods in Bride-street, who had got together many curious letters, manuscripts of all sorts, and printed books. He had particularly some of Lord Clarendon's correspond- ence relative to Ireland — a missing volume of the Journals of the House of Commons, which parliament bought from him, — a volume of the journals of the confederate Catholics in Kilkenny, — a short printed manifesto of Phelim O'Neil, on his taking arms in 1641, and many other papers, proper to throw light on the most impor- tant part of the Irish history ; — that in which, for some years, that nation attempted to act on its own bottom. These papers were all, as I understand, purchased from him. Are they in the college library ? Dr. Kearney would, perhaps, be the fittest for this inves- tigation. The old furniture-man, who was very curious and intel- ligent, told me that Lord Jocelyn had a most valuable collection in print and manuscript relative to that period. Could they be got at? I am glad that you wish to see more of Ireland. Nunc ultro ad cineres ipsorum et ossa parentum, Haud equidem sine raente, reor, sine numine divum Ades '. And may Grod give it a blessing ! But remember, you go into the very focus of all possible malignity to the cause you have to manage — therefore, examine beforehand into your company, and guard yourself with all possible prudence. I wish you, if possible, to pass not directly from Limerick to Cork, but to go from Limerick to Clonmel. It is a tract of country no way romantic, but in my opinion well worth seeing. If Mr. Butler be living, (I fear he is dead,) who was sheriff of Tipperary in 1764, 1765, or 1766, he will inform you of the extraordinary proceedings of that time. You may learn, likewise, what was then done and attempted at Limerick and at Waterford, but let it not be known that you are making such an investigation. I hope it may not be necessary ; but it may. When you go towards the Blackwater, if we have got any friends alive, and not qu te ruined there, hinder them from showing you any honours in the way which in old times was not unusual with them, but which since are passed away, for in the present age and ' The original passage is — Nunc ultro ad cineres ipsius et ossa parentis, Haud equidem sine mente, reor, sine numine divum Adsumus ; et portus delati intranius amicos. Mn. V. 57. CORRESPONDENCE. 91 reign of newspapers they would be very mischievous. I have long been uneasy in my mind, when I consider the early obligations, strong as debts, and stronger than some debts, to some of my own family, now advanced in life, and fallen, I believe, into great penury. Mrs. Orotty is daughter of Patrick Nagle, to whom (the father) I cannot now tell you all I owe. She has had me a child in her arms, and must be now, I dare say, 74 years old at least. I wish her much to have some relief, so do I to Katty Courtnay. Now, my dearest Richard, I have destined, if you like it, a twentieth of what is lately fallen to us, to these two poor women, — fifty to each ; and I have many strong reasons that it should be wholly your act (as indeed the money is yours), without any other reference to me, than that you know how much I loved them, — that you wiU desire them to keep it a profound secret. I suppose that you consent it should be done at all. God knows how little we can spare it. But I must consider it, and do, as a sort of debt ; but again, do not hint me as the suggester in any sort. I am happy that you find so much comfort in Therry. Our love to him. You mean, I suppose, to take Ballitore " in your way to Limerick. It is hardly out of the road at all. If it be, it is a very trifle. How comes it that the Roches of Limerick did not sign ? Are they Kenmared ? Though they should, if they are inclined to be civil, take their civility in good part. How was Lord Pery to you ? Cazalfes is gone ; the Bintinnayes are preparing to go ; all in very poor heart, and with dull expectations. The little chevalier was at last prevailed on to go to court, where he was received both by the king and queen to his heart's content. He was not introduced by the French minister, and was better received by far than the Due de Levi, (a democrat,) so introduced on the same day, was. It is late, and I am tired. Lord Fitzwilliam met Cazalfes with me. He gave a dinner to him and the two Bintinnayes, — our company, the Duke of Portland, Sir Thomas Dundas, Lord Ossory, Walker King, Dr. Laurence ; — others were expected, but did not come. I had two very long conversations with him. He was very earnest for a reconciliation, or at least some steps towards it, with an old friend : — but I gave him such reasons why it could not be yet, at least, as made him not condemn me, though he left me, after our last conversation, in a mood sufficiently melancholy. He is, in truth, a man of wonderful honest good-nature and in- tegrity. He ' talked much of you, and very kindly. Your mother's blessings ; Mary's, Nagle's and Ann Hickey's love ; and Laurence, who takes this to town to-morrow, desires his remembrance. 2 The residence of the Shackleton family. •" Lord Fitzwilliam. 92 CORRESPONDENCE. Your uncle's health, thank God, rather improves on the circuit. We are all very well. I shall write to you more fully to Cork. They tell me that some of the ladies of Dublin say you are so much a man of business, that you are not seen at any of their balls, assemblies, &c. Don't you go to the Castle balls ? Perhaps you are not invited to the others. Circulate a little. I hear the Bishop of Killaloe* is very right. Surely, in your health, you owe attentions there ; they were kind to you in your sickness. My best regards. The Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to the King of Poland '. Probably March, 1792. Sir, I do not possess a cabinet of medals. If I did, I should find myself at a loss under what class, or in what series, to place that medal, with which your majesty's extraordinary condescension has been pleased to enrich me. It stands alone, and it wiU stand alone, until I know of some prince, ancient or modern, who has done such things, upon such principles, and with such means. It is a great work, sir, that you have accomplished. You have made a part greater than the whole. From the remnant of a ruin, you have constructed an edifice, fairer in its proportions, more commodious for habitation, and stronger for defence and duration, than the original fabric, when it was the most entire. Though your majesty does not share your merit with any other prince, you divide it with your people, — a people, from their generosity and their spirit, from their superior endowments of body and of mind, entitled to every blessing, but from the imper- fection of their laws and institutions, to this time, enjoying none. Under your guidance, the Poles are restored to the advantages of their nature. Hitherto the body of the nation has seconded your endeavours. The exertion of one virtue is always a pledge for the exertion of another. I shall not, therefore, for a moment suffer myself to apprehend, that the Polish nation will not add constancy to their zeal, and that, recruited as it is in the power of its activity, it will not continue to second your majesty in giving perfection and stability to the great work which has been carried so far. I ' Dr. Bernard, translated to Limerick in 1794. 5 Stanislaus 2Qd (Poniatowski), elected King of Poland in 1764, resigned the crown in 1795. CORRESPONDENCE. 93 will go further, and indulge myself in the hope, that no one indivi- dual will remain in such a state of delusion as to imagine, that, under whatever description he may be known, he is, in reality, a nobleman, a gentleman, or even a citizen in any commonwealth, who is continually subjected to the will of foreign powers. No individual will continue to form so erroneous an estimate of things, as to feel himself miserable and degraded, because his country- men are elevated and happy. It is a poor exaltation which consists only in the depression of other men. I love nobility. I should be ashamed to say so, if I did not know what it is that I love. He alone is noble, that is so reputed by those, who, by being free, are capable of forming an opinion. Such a people are alone competent to bestow a due estimation upon rank and titles. He is noble who has a priority amongst freemen ; not he who has a sort of wild liberty among slaves. One so circumstanced is not so much like a person noble from his rank, as one who has escaped from his lot in the general bondage, by injustice, violence, and wrong. There is no nobility, where there is no possible standard for a comparison among ranks. To think otherwise, is to think very diiferently from your majesty. You delight, and therefore the world delights in you, to be considered as the father, not the proprietor of your people. Much, sir, has been already done in Poland ; and it seems to me to be perfect from this circumstance, — that it facilitates any good that may be attempted hereafter. There is room for a long succession of acts of politic beneficence. Nothing is forced, or crude, or before its time. The circumstances which make the im- provement gradual, will make it more sure, and will not make it the less rapid. The reformation your majesty has made, by sub- mitting the power of the diet and your own to the sovereign nature of things, will engage that nature of things to a reciprocity. She, in her turn, will aid your majesty, and the coadjutors who are worthy to co-operate with you in all your future labours, as she has done in all your past. This, sir, is a great and sure alliance. It is worth purchasing by submitting our enthusiasm to her laws. An arbitrary and despotic spirit may be shown, even in plans which have liberty for their object. But there is no mixture of weakness or rashness in your beneficent designs. You neither force nor are forced. You proceed under the array of justice, and you put it under the orders of its natural guide, and cause it to be attended with its well-assorted companions. What, in the event, you may suffer from men and accidents, as the humours of men and the turns of fortune are out of all calculation, I cannot divine : but your glory is safe. The lines with which your majesty has been pleased to accom- 94 CORRESPONDENCE. pany your inestimable gift, are infinitely flattering to me, and even to this nation, whose language (amongst the variety of languages in which you command more by your eloquence than by your authority,) you have honoured by having completely conquered. A few words from that eloquence which made the poniards drop from the hands of assassins, and which -restored regicides to the sentiments of nature, are more valuable than volumes. It is no small addition to my pride in a great sovereign deigning to take notice of my obscure labours (now, under much trouble and vexation, touching to their close), that I owe this honour to a person not less distinguished for his talents and accomplishments as a man, than for his policy and magnanimity as a prince ; — to a person who knows how to adorn and to soften the gravity of his virtues, and the dignity of his place, by the charm of his manners. My son, sir, will preserve the precious deposit. If calumny should persecute my memory in him, he wiU confront it with this testimony. He will show that the wisest and most beneficent of legislators condescended to look with some partiality on the good intentions of his father. By the excellence of the workmanship of this precious medal (whose image and superscription would give it value in the coarsest execution), we see that the arts are successfully protected by your majesty at a time when they sufler a loss, which kings and nations may find it difficult to repair, in the extinction of the greatest genius for those arts, enlightened by the soundest philosophy, and adorned with the most amiable virtues that we ever possessed in this kingdom ; one who was worthy, if his fortune had been such, to perpetuate your majesty's figure upon his canvas. We have lost Sir Joshua Reynolds. Pardon me, sir, if I have been guilty of any of the lesser impro- prieties. Into the great ones I cannot fall. It is not easy for me to answer your majesty's short note in a few words. Brevity is the becoming sfyle of protection and command. It belongs to those whose expressions are chiefly in their actions and in their authority. But age, imbecihty, and gratitude, are naturally loqua- cious. Perhaps, within some bounds, they ought to be so. My limits are not in your majesty's forbearance, for then I might be still longer ; but in my fear of trespassing upon that virtue for which, among so many others, you are distinguished. I have the honour to be, with the most profound respect, attach- ment, and veneration, sir, Your majesty's most obedient, most humble, and obliged servant, Edm. Burke. CORRESPONDENCE. 95 The Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Richard BurJce, Jun., Esq. March 23, 1792. My dearest Richard, We have received yours of the 1 7th, your baptismal day ; which, according to laudable custom, you, I suppose, rebaptized in wine. Your mother observed, that it is the only one which you have dated. The treachery of your old schoolfellow is something beyond the practice even of Irish secretaries, so recorded by Mr. Grattan. I can easily conceive that he who could betray, could over-charge. Indeed, a plain lie is better than such treason. You certainly are in the right not to suffer an incurable alienation between the Catho- lics and Dissenters. If the latter do, iond fide, resolve to relieve their country from this mass of absurd servitude, for so much they have merit, whatever their ulterior views may be. There are few things I wish more, (as I have said in the letters I have sketched to you,) than that the established churches should be continued on a firm foundation in both kingdoms. When I say few, I mean to be exact ; for some things, assuredly, I have much nearer my heart, namely, the emancipation of that great body of my original countrymen, whom a jackanapes in lawn sleeves calls fools and knaves. I can never persuade myself that any thing in our thirty- nine articles, which differs from their articles, is worth making three millions of people slaves, to secure its teaching at the public expense ; and I think he must be a strange man, a strange Chris- tian, and a strange Englishman, who would not rather see Ireland a free, flourishing, happy Catholic country, though not one Pro- testant existed in it, than an enslaved, beggared, insulted, degraded Catholic country, as it is, with some Protestants here and there scattered through it, for the purpose, not of instructing the people, but of rendering them miserable. This I say, supposing that any security were derived from that abominable system. A religion that has for one of its dogmas the servitude of all mankind that do not belong to it, is a vile heresy ; and this I think one of the worst heresies of that protestant sect called Mahometanism. It is a monstrous thing that the Catholics should be obliged to abjure a supposed claim to the property of others. Never was so absurd a charge made on men. I think they are in the right to abjure that claim ; but they ought not to do it without a strong declaration of their indignation at its being, without the smallest foundation, imputed to them. I return to the Dissejiters. I am happy that you find those of 96 CORRESPONDENCE. Ireland not disaffected to this constitution in state ; as to the Church, it is enough for its security, if they are not inflamed with a furious zeal for its destruction, and are content to let it stand as an institution of state for the satisfaction of some part of the people, but as a business in which they have no concern, as they and the Catholics most certainly have none. By the way, don't you think that, in the representation to the king, this business ought to be taken up in this way ? I will send you a few dry heads, and you may see whether they accord with your ideas. As to myself, my resolution about the part I should take, relative to the Dissenters, has been very wavering. I cannot a second time go to the question of the test, and not vote. This kind of thing cannot be repeated ; but I really did wish to take some other opportunity to state their manifest designs and their conduct. This affair of Birmingham, which frightened them at first, now fortifies them. They come forth as persecuted men. They all, as fast as they can meet, take up Priestley, and avowedly set him up as their head. They are preparing to renew the 14th of July. At Manchester they have advertised their thanks to Mr. Thomas Paine for his second work,- — more infamous, if possible, than the first. They keep up their French correspondence as before. In short, the Unitarian Society, from whence all these things originate, are as zealous as their brethren at Constantinople ; and, if care is not taken, I should think it very probable that you may live to see Christianity as effectually extirpated out of this country as it is out of France. I think I shall not meddle in these affairs at all. If I do, I shall certainly separate the sober and well- meaning, conscientious Dissenters, from the new French faction. Your mother has a cold, but otherwise, thank God, is well. Have you got my last long miscellaneous letter ? Always say what you have got ; or, if you are busy, desire Therry, or somebody else, to do it. Let every thing be inclosed to Adey, whether from yourself or others. My last went, by your direction, to Mr. Lawless, and had only R. B., Esq., on the cover. Richard Burke, Jun., Esq., to Lord '. June 2, 1792. As I intimated to your lordship that the Irish government are desirous to preclude the Catholics from all direct intercourse with his majesty's immediate government, I take the liberty of submit- ' Perhaps Lord Grenville. CORRESPONDENCE. 97 ting to your lordship's perusal a few heads of deliberation on that important question. I have stated them here as mere suggestions. Before his majesty's confidential servants came to a formal deci- sion on the subject, I should hope to be permitted to argue the matter at large on the part of the Catholics ; and I have no sort of doubt I should be able to demonstrate, on every ground of constitu- tion and Cii policy, the strict right of the Catholics, as well as of all the other people of Ireland, to lay their representations at his majesty's feet immediately, and without any intermediate channel whatsoever, to address themselves, directly, to his majesty's English ministers. Your lordship must be aware how very imperfectly and super- ficially at best (to say nothing of the extreme delay) the real essential interests of the state can be transacted by formal memo- rials, transmitted backwards and forwards from one side of the water to the other ; and how much better the superior administra- tion, which is charged with the general superintendence of the empire in all its parts and relations, will be able to form its judg- ment, when it has an opportunity of coming into contact, by direct personal communication, with the interested parties themselves, and their representatives. Unnecessary mediums can only produce obscurity and error, whether in pubhc or in private affairs. Although the interest of the people seems more immediately concerned in establishing the principle of a direct communication with the throne, I am convinced that it is not less material to his majesty's interest in the case of the Irish government. As Ireland is a distant kingdom, the government must be in a great degree committed to some leading and predominant interest. If that interest has virtue enough not actually to prefer its own advantage, in all cases, to that of the crown, it cannot be expected to view his majesty's interests with a judgment wholly unembarrassed by any private consideration. It is, therefore, only by communicating with, and hearing, persons unconnected with that predominant party, and even opposed to it, that his majesty and his English servants can come to a true knowledge of many, and those the most critical, concerns of the empire. This is particularly the case in Ireland, where the parliament, the judicature, the church, the various branches of the civil administration, being wholly vested in one description of the people, and being all in one interest, there is no balance against them in favour of the crovra ; and no means by which his majesty can be informed relative to his particular concerns, except through some other description of the people. The government of Ireland, ever since the revolution, has been in the hands of a party , and has been governed on party principles. But VOL. II. H 98 CORRESPONDENCE. it has, by various accidents, been again so subdivided and frittered down, as now to be confined to a part, and that a very small part, of a party. So that if the government of England was to exclude all other sources of information, it would be impossible to conceive a more narrow and partial channel. This would be the case if the government of Ireland was wholly unbiassed in its judgment, and ever so much disposed to give a clear representation of facts. With regard to the latter, it is impossible for me to know whether they have represented them fairly to the English government ; but I know that in Ireland they have taken great pains, and even exerted a singular degree of ingenuity, to render the facts obscure, and to involve the late transactions in such a mist, as to render them unintelligible to the greatest part of mankind. I am persuaded they must appear nearly so to his majesty's English servants. Thus an Irish administration may, whenever it chooses, throw off all control, and persevere in a system adopted without the consent, and perhaps contrary to the wishes, of the crown. They have nothing to do but to misrepresent or confound the facts ; then to say they cannot or will not carry on the government, if informa- tion is received through any other channel. When this is conceded, being master of the facts, they must be master of the deliberation also ; and the English government, instead of being able to regulate, will not be able so much as to comprehend the nature of their proceedings. I confess I do not think it argues much in favour of the good intentions of the Irish government, to require such a degree of blind and exclusive confidence. I do not beheve it is usual for the servants of the crown, in either country, to prescribe to his majesty, or to each other, what intercourse is to be held with the subject. The utmost which is contended for by the minister of any department is, that his own opinion shall finally prevail ; not that his majesty and his other confidential servants shall be pre- cluded from the means of forming their opinion, by communicating with such persons and such description of persons as they think proper. If the Irish government professed to hold any clear and decided opinion upon the Catholic question, their desire to limit the sources of information, and to monopolize the king's confidence, would be more excusable, in favour of the natural partiality which men have to their own opinions. But as they, in a manner, avow, on the present occasion, that they are governed by the opinions, and even by the passions, of those who support them in parliament, and whom they declare themselves unable to control ; and, since they propose no remedy for this state of dependence, in which they represent his CORRESPONDENCE. 99 majesty's government to be, they ought, at least, to suffer his EngHsh servants to use their discretion in inquiring whether some remedy cannot be found. But if the English government is to preclude itself from all information out of respect for Lord West- moreland, who makes the requisition, to please the chancellor, who is afraid of giving offence to Lord Waterford and Lord Shannon, his majesty's councils would be swayed by the passions and pre- judices of Irish ministers and members of parliament, at second and at third hand ; which could neither be for the dignity or the advantage of his government, either in England or in L-eland. I shall trouble your lordship no further on this subject than to observe, that, instead of the English government being excluded from all primary consideration of Irish affairs, the natural course of things would be, that all the great questions of national policy, which must ultimately affect the empire at large, should originate with, or at least be finally decided by, the metropolitan ' govern- ment. There is, however, a particular reason why this particular affair should not be abandoned to the discretion of the Irish govern- ment. In order to disguise to themselves the true situation of things, and to avoid the necessity of conforming to it, they have adopted a variety of principles which are, at least, exceedingly singular. In the first place, they are pleased to qualify the Roman Catholics with the name of a democracy ; and then, calling all official intercourse with them by the formal name of a treaty, they say, it is beneath the dignity of a government to treat with a Roman Catholic democracy/. Thus, under an idea of awing the Catholics by I know not what airs of artificial importance, they preclude the major part of the people from free access to the government ; and, wrapping themselves up in a mysterious reserve, they neither make nor receive any communication relative to the most pressing and important concern of the kingdom. This method of proceeding is necessarily productive of great incon- venience. The Catholics are totally disabled from gratifying their earnest desire of accommodating the attainment of their emancipa- tion to the occasions and convenience of his majesty's government, because they are kept in the dark with regard to the views and intentions of the ministers towards them ; while the ministers, on the other hand, cannot hope to gratify the Catholics, as they refuse to be informed of their wants and circumstances. This voluntary ignorance leads to many erroneous and even contradictory ideas, by which the Catholics become an object of too much and of too little apprehension. It is probable that the Irish ministers have ' vis. the English cabinet. H 2 100 CORRESPONDENCK. come to a determination finally to concede, and to acquiesce in the desires of the Catholics, but they consider it as a necessity that is to be protracted to the last moment, and avoided if possible. As the power of the Protestants is that by which alone the Catholics can be resisted, they endeavour to rouse and animate the Protes- tants against them ; not aware that by exasperating their anger, they do not increase their strength ; but that they make concession more difficult, because it must be obtained through the Protes- tants. Thus the goyernment of Ireland prepares for itself a new and increasing series of embarrassments ; and it is this circum- stance which more peculiarly calls for the speedy and effectual interposition of the English government. Whatever difficulties there may be in carrying a measure of effectual relief for the Catholics, on account of the supposed reluc- tance of the Protestants, (which, however, is infinitely exaggerated,) those difficulties were, in a great measure, if not altogether, created by the Irish government itself. Instead of employing the influence of the crown to conciliate the different parties to each other, and to unite them in one bond of common affection towards his majesty, they thought it a very convenient opportunity to make themselves a paHy, (which they had not before,) by becoming, as it were, the champions of a Protestant interest, and by entering into and inflam- ing the passions and prejudices of that party. This is the real cause of the opposition the Catholics have had to encounter, and with which his majesty (as I understand) is also threatened, on the supposition of his being disposed to relieve his Catholic subjects, whether this is exactly what his majesty has a right to expect from those who, so profitably to themselves, have for many years past supported his government, I will not undertake to decide. But whatever the merits of their conduct may be, I do not imagine his majesty has much to apprehend from their efforts. The violent party in the House of Commons, (consisting mostly of persons in office,) does not amount to above one hundred. This number, which is also the least conspicuous in character and talents, is far from being the majority ; but if it was the whole parliament, that parliament is very far from the whole, and commands but a small part, of the Protestant interest ; and the Protestant interest itself is only maintained in its superiority by the power of the crown, upon which it entirely depends. The idea, therefore, of any resistance from that quarter is perfectly chimerical. Let us suppose that the Irish parliament was determined to show its resentment ; let us suppose that the chancellor, and Lord Waterford, and Mr. Ogle, were to muster the dependants of the Castle in combination with Lord Shannon, Mr. Ponsonby, and other gentlemen in opposition. CORRESPONDENCE. 101 in order to embarrass government, and obstruct the business of the crown : — What could they do ? Would they refuse the supplies, in the distribution of which they find such an ample source of emolu- ment? Would they throw out the mutiny-bill, and disband the army, by which alone their political existence is upheld ? But sup- pose they were to refuse the supplies : — Whose money do they withhold ? The money of the Catholics ; for they, in fact, directly and indirectly, pay almost the whole revenue. It is their loyalty and aifection to their sovereign, which induces them cheerfully to bear burthens imposed by a parliament in which they are not represented, and which treats them with the most outrageous contumely ; and I do not believe their loyalty would be less liberal out of deference to those, whose only motive for embarrassing the crown was its dis- position to afford protection to them. I have troubled your lordship with these circumstances, to show how very idle, to say no worse, the opposition threatened on this occasion is likely to prove. I have no doubt that every other difficulty and objection would be solved with equal facility. I confess I see no reason why the incapacities and disabilities which affect the Catholics should not be done away altogether ; for if they are as good subjects as any other, it is natural they should enjoy equal advantages. Indeed, if every thing was laid open to them, whatever they might acquire in present right, the actual enjoyment would be exceedingly gradual. But if his majesty preferred the gradual mode, and would be pleased to mark out to what extent the present relief should be carried, — and if, upon this, his Irish servants were dissatisfied with his gracious intentions towards this oppressed description of his subjects, I would venture to undertake to find a set of public men in Ireland, who would execute the measure, and in every other respect carry on his government, at least as much to his satisfaction, and at less expense, than is done at present. This, in my opinion, might be effected without any considerable changes, and would by no means preclude his majesty from retaining in his service any particular persons he might wish to favour. Upon this plan, the indulgences to the Catholics would still pass through the medium of the Irish government, and even of the Protestant interest. But I humbly conceive it to be of the utmost importance, at this particular season, that all accessions to the liberty of the subject, and all extensions of public privilege, should proceed, and should be known to originate and to proceed from the sovereign himself. I can take upon myself, in the most solemn and conscien- tious manner, to say, from my own knowledge, that no prince either has, or can have, subjects more deserving of encouragement, or less likely to abuse it, than are the Roman Catholics of Ireland. The 102 CORRESPONDENCE. character of their rehgion disposes them in a peculiar manner to gradations both in church and state. They have been accused of carrying their loyalty and attachment to hereditary succession even to excess, which has been the pretext for most of their sufferings ; and their natural disposition is confirmed into habitual loyalty, by the necessity of looking constantly to the throne for protection against the oppressions of their fellow-subjects. I may add, that they are really conscientious men, who practise their religion in sincerity, according to the best of their judgment, and do not make it a pretext for political combinations formed for pohtical purposes. Those who have the principal influence amongst them, and with whom I am intimately acquainted, are men of sound understandings ; and I do not believe there exists a set of men of more integrity, and simplicity of mind and manners. I do not believe there exists a body of men whom it would be more expedient in any government, at this time, to take up, to cherish, and to cultivate, as a bulwark and security against the prevailing errors and vices of the time, and as a safeguard to the throne and constitution, than the Catholics of Ireland. I do sometimes persuade myself that the deliverance of this people was, as it were, providentially reserved for this season ; that in so critical a moment, so many millions of men might be bound to the throne, by the sense of a recent and immense obliga- tion ; and that the British constitution might be planted in their breasts as in a virgin soil, while the blessings of it are, in a manner, exhausted in the minds of others, and men have become satiated with its long enjoyment. I ought to apologize to your lordship, for troubling you so long ; but I trust the importance of the subject will plead my excuse. I have the honour to be, &c. &c. B.ICHAED BOEKE. Bight Hm. Edmund Burke to the Chevalier and Abbe de la Bintinnaye. London, Jvme 18, 1792. My deau Friends, I have now a moment's, and but a moment's leisure. All my private arrangements of every sort, which the public business had suspended, are come upon me, as they usually do, at the close of the session. But I cannot let my friend Mr. Kerr go off on a little expedition of pleasure and curiosity, which takes him to Coblentz, without wishing him to see you at Brussels, and to embrace you in the name of all that this house and its immediate connexions contained. We thank you most cordially for your CORRESPONDENCE. 1 03 kind and constant remembrance of us, which our irregularity and want of punctuality has not taken away from us. We have the vice of our country in this respect, in a very aggravated degree. But you may depend upon it, that no want of the highest affection, esteem, and respect to you both, forms the smallest ingredient in the composition of our fault. There are few days on which I have not proofs of the good effects of your book, which has made a great impression, and has circulated as much as any French book can do in London. By some mistake, the king and queen have not received the books destined for them, but I shall endea- vour to set that matter to rights. I think I see, at least, some little glimmering of sunshine on the unfortunate affairs of the French chevalerie. God knows how it will end. I have but one thing to observe upon and to regret, that some of the emigrants are more concerned in derogating from the men of abilities amongst their brethren, and in libelUng them in the public prints, than in the support of their common cause. You see how you are indemnified for all your losses of every kind by the reception of the son of Dr. Priestley, who is baptized into the constitution of France, under the godfathership of Mr. Fran9ais, of Nantz. You see that I act my part in this great scene, and appear as the Aristophanes to the Birmingham Socrates, and am supposed to prepare the minds of the people to persecute him, by my talent for ridicule. So you see, we go dowTi with different merits to posterity, hand in hand. Well ! I must console myself in your partiality for what I suffer from Mr. Fran9ais, of Nantz, who, thank God, can do me no great harm, as I am not one of his countrymen, nor a clergyman of the Gallican Church. Believe me, my dear gentlemen, no people alive are more attached to you than this house, and that we beg of you to assure the Bishop of Auxerre and Mademoiselle de Oice, of our most sincere and unalterable attachment. Ever, my dear friends, most truly yours, Edm. Bdrke. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burhe to Richard Burke, Jun., Esq. Beconsfield, Sunday, July 29, 1792. My dearest Richard, We are sorry to find that there is some uncertainty in your coming on Monday. I could not help smiling at the conversation you J 04 CORRESPONDENCE. had with Messrs. Erskine and O'Brien °. I take it, that the wish they expressed for my opinion on the affairs of Poland, and for my subscription towards a war with Russia, was a little display of that wit and humour for which, along with other great talents, these gentlemen are distinguished. If I could believe them serious, I should tell them, that an application to me, from them, was some- what singular. They set no value on my political opinions, neither, perhaps, are they worthy of their attention ; and I assure them that for such arduous undertakings my purse is not of more im- portance than my sentiments. For my part, if either one or both were likely to have any effect, before I engaged myself in such undertakings, I would inquire into the constitutional and political propriety of private men granting subsidies to any of the bellige- rent powers of Europe, however good their cause may be, without the previous sanction of that authority, in which our laws have vested the federal capacity of this kingdom, or without a know- ledge of the sense of one or both Houses of Parliament, who, as they are to furnish any supplies which may deserve that name, and will have matter before them to determine their judgment better than any I can call for, are better able to appreciate, as they are better able to support, any political system than a private combination of gentlemen, however respectable for their wealth or their wisdom. As they are connected with a great and powerful party in parliament, which has lately taken a successful part in the treaty between Russia and the Porte, against the opinion of ministers, (who wished that the former power should be Umited in its acquisitions from the latter,) they may have assurance of a parliamentary support in their very critical measure, which I, who have not the honour of the same confidential communications, do not care to promise myself Mr. Smith, of Olapham, who, I hear, is at the head of the scheme for granting this subsidy, may also, by private communication with the king's ministers, be authorized in taking steps in which I (who, you know, am not favoured by them with any political communications whatsoever,) would, upon no better ground than my conjectures, be rash in following him. I have done all in my power to make my opinions as much known as I could do, on the steps taken by all orders of the Poles, to strengthen their internal government, and to resist foreign force and foreign intrigue, in the disposition of their national in- struments. I thought their proceeding wise in its contrivance, and virtuous in its principles ; and that the conjunction chosen for * The Hon. Thomas Erskine, afterwards lord chancellor, and Mr. Dennis O'Brien, an elector of Westminster, and supporter of Mr. Fox. CORRESPONDENCE. 105 its accomplishment was well taken ; because I conceived that, upon solid ground, they must have reckoned on the support of a power which has since failed them. Without a just ground for the presumption of such support, (which I believe they had,) the attempt at their emancipation from the dominion (such in effect it was) of Russia, however laudable, would be too hazardous. No cause in the world can, as a cause, be more clear in my eyes, or can have more of my warm wishes, than that of the Poles. It happens, in all points, to be the reverse of that of the factions in France. But before I took active measures in their support, if I were capable of taking or advising any, I should look very atten- tively to the means which my country possessed for carrying on war with the powers who seem, primarily or secondarily, to be concerned in this act of crying injustice. There are none of them on whom our natural power can be easily brought to bear. In such cases, we have always endeavoured to supply by alliances the deficiency of an applicable strength. It appears to me, that unless we can engage Sweden and Denmark in our party, we have no ally whose strength is applicable. The doing this would take time ; the war would be protracted ; and I greatly doubt whether, in case of success with these two powers (a matter I think very problematical), their force is sufficient for the very desirable object of securing the independence of Poland. I would give a great deal, if a great deal I had to give, to secure an object of such importance. But I would consider how my country stood before I made one in putting forward a measure that tended to commit, if not its safety, its honour and reputation in an incon- siderable hostility. In all affairs of this kind, I think it quite insane to consider only the pretexts of the persons who would invite you to any measure, and not their manifest designs. I have read, in the news- paper I take in, a series of political essays on the affairs of Poland, the drift of which I thought I could perceive from the beginning; but this morning the design is completely out. It is to find us an ally ; namely, the present ruling powers in France. It is true, there is no other which is now on ill terms with the three united sovereigns. Pray consider that letter attentively. You will see that the French system is the main object, and that the whole tendency of the work, evidently written in subserviency to this scheme, is to defend the French whom we can assist, and not the Poles, to whom neither we nor they (certainly not they) can be any way serviceable. The faction, which never has lost sight of its object for one moment, aims at bringing in the French evil by a back door ; and on pretence of an assistance to the 106 CORRESPONDENCE. Poles, which the French cannot give, we are to become accom- phces in the calamity which their assemblies are, to their power, bringing upon Europe. Finding us warm in the cause of the brave and generous Poles, they would seduce us into a confederacy with the horror, turpitude, baseness, and wickedness of the French revolution. If this be their object, which (until France is fully disclaimed,) I must be certain it is, — though I lament the fate of Poland, as I before lamented its fate, when the cruel partition was made pf that kingdom between the same powers, yet I would sooner let affairs there take their course, and hope for better things from better conjunctures, than, by perhaps a vain and impotent effort to succour Poland, establish at our very door a system of tyranny infinitely more dangerous, which aims directly at the sources of all the happiness that this kingdom has enjoyed and does enjoy, and tends to put a stop to that spirit of progressive improvement which, more or less, every state of Europe has been proceeding in, and to plunge them headlong into that condition of wretchedness, ferocity, impiety, and savageness, into which the parricides of France have sunk their own degene- rate country. No ; let their designs be what they may, the world, and we ourselves eminently, are obliged to those powers, who, when the savages had declared war against one of them, for only exercising (and that indeed poorly) the laws of hospitality towards the victims of their nefarious tyranny, have thought it right, by the arms which were appealed to by the faction itself, to assert the cause of mankind against them. Much success attend their good and virtuous cause ! I say this from my heart, for I do not believe they will act as if it was only a war of kings, and leave out the suffering intermediate orders, who have lost their all for maintaining that aristocratic principle, without which every dominion must become a mere despotism of the prince, or the brutal tyranny of a ferocious and atheistic populace ; the latter, infinitely a greater evil, and' infinitely more shocking to every liberal and well-instructed mind, than even despotism itself. Observe well the topics of the pamphlet of these gentlemen. To give us a confidence in the French arms, they tell us that the ofiicers having in general deserted, the privates and non-com- missioned win soon supply their places, and make good troops. They mean to send our troops to that virtuous school ; to send them to act with those who force the most honourable body of gen- tlemen and ofiicers that perhaps ever existed, to fly from their com- mands and their estates, and to seek refuge in exile and in famine ; and who tell us that the scum of a mercenary common soldiery are the true defence of a country, and the best judges of the COERESPONDENCE. 107 form of government fit for the security of law and liberty. I will never take a step which may tend to have our honest common soldiery sent to the school of the murderers of their generals and their prisoners. I will not send any of our seamen to act with those who have driven away your virtuous friend De la Bintinnaye from their service, and have not left one single naval officer in his post. I will not betray our common seamen, whose glory has been the result of the rigour of their subordination, which they bore with cheerfulness from their love of the English flag, into the contagion of the society of such wild ruffians. I confess to you, that, habituated as I am to the jargon of their abettors, the idea of an aUiance with them is a thing which I can yet scarcely hear of with common patience. If the king (but I never can suppose it) should be so unhappy as to be led into such an alliance, what will he not have to answer for, to his crown, his family, and his sacred office ? As to the gentlemen of this country — but I have done. Whatever they may do, be you the last to be led on, or betrayed, into this horrible pollution. You will be too weak, as I have been, to resist the torrent ; but do not pull up the flood-gates. The old system of things gave you the religious and virtuous education you have had, which I am sure you find abundantly sufficient to make you whatever a man ought to be. I had the same, which, if it did not make me fit for my station in the place and period in which Providence placed me, it was my own fault. God, in his time, will, I hope, give you more of your blood to succeed you. Do your best to continue to them the same benefits (such you think them) that you have received, and be as easily reconciled to pass them through the fire to the grim idol of a Moloch, as to send them to the national education of a Perigord or a Condorcet. I do not think (you remember I have said it over and over again) that any government is safe as long as that sort of thing which prevails in France has an existence. The balance of power is a matter of great moment ; but who has destroyed it ! That very monster by whose aid, it seems, we are to restore it. They have treated the very idea as a mischievous chimera, and re- nounced every interposition in the affairs of other nations, further than by their declared resolution to support the levelling factions which might arise amongst them for the subversion of their govern- ments. The balance of power is a thing they never will main- tain. The other objects they will pursue, and in a way that will make them far more terrible to their friends than to their ene- mies. If lost for a while, the balance of power may be recovered. But the spirit and principles of Europe, once destroyed in the 108 CORRESPONDENCE. stamina of its internal governments, never will be restored. If France can be, as certainly she may be, upon occasion, of use in preserving that balance, she must first be made a part of the sys- tem, and not a principled enemy to the whole of it, as she now is. She must be got to act upon the ideas of statesmen, and not of fanatics. If this meeting should turn out differently from what I have conceived it, and that it leads, neither directly nor indirectly, to any connexion whatever with the French ; and if it appears, under the sanction of government, to be a mode of previously taking the sense of the people for their support in an interposition for which they have provided some rational plan, whoUy distinct from any thing which may serve to prevent the rescue of the monarchy and the intermediate orders of France from the present usurpation and tyranny, I shall most readily pay down my twenty guineas, though, God knows, more than I can afford, to show my admiration of the king, and my perfect good wishes to the generous, unhappy nation, that has suffered so much from the violence and ambition of its neighbours. At the same time observe, that, even with the best intentions, I do not much like the conducting of national affairs by private councils and private subscriptions. They may do well for a charity towards any worthy persons who may be expelled their country, or who may suffer in it from the oppressions of a Eussian or any other usurpation. But to make war with Russia by such means, seems to me great folly. What is the charity of those who can even rejoice in the suffering of the gentry and clergy of France, and even the thousands of imprisoned women, exposed to pine in famine and silence ! Adieu, my dearest ! God bless you and direct you. You may show this to any particular friend who wishes to know my poor sentiments. My dear Richard, Your affectionate father, Edm. Burke. The Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to the Govmtess of Inchiquin ^ Beconsfieia, July, 1792. My DEAE, Madam, I am distressed beyond measure at the command you have laid upon me, because it is the second of the kind I have received, and ' Miss Palmer, niece of Sir Joshua Reynolds, was lately married to the Earl of Inchiquin, afterwards created Marquis of Thomond. CORRESPONDENCE. 109 I really can make little answer to it but what I have done at first. As to our dear friend himself, I have said all that I can say in the paragraph I wrote on his death. You, who have a good taste, . must know that these things cannot be repeated for ever from the same mind without forcing it, and consequently producing some- thing paltry and affected, which will do more harm than good. There remains to me perhaps to write his epitaph. Believe me, this kind of things can not be diversified without end ; and if they were to be so diversified, I am not fit for it, who am used only to have some substantial matter of praise or blame to express accord- ing to my powers, with force and clearness ; and as to mere com- pliments or pretty turned phrases, I never had any hand at them. As to the collection, I have said also all I have to say. If these artists can say any thing more, let them send it to me, and I will do my best that it shall not be ill-expressed. I do not know where what I wrote already for the occasion is, or whether your ladyship has given it to these gentlemen, or kept it to yourself. I send you, since it must be so, another sketch. I suspect that I repeat myself again. If I have, take from both, and make the most of them. I wish some other person conversant in these things would write on them ; not I, who never hazarded sixpence for a picture on my own judgment, and who know nothing of the arts but what I may possibly have endeavoured to know concerning the philosophy of them. However, here is what occurs to me, — • I fear, as I said, a repetition : — "The public has here a collection, of great extent and great variety, of the pictures of the most eminent artists of former ages, made by the most eminent artist of the present time. He chose those pictures as objects at once of study and of rivalship. No person could do more than the great man we have lately lost, from the funds of his own genius. No person ever endeavoured more to take advantage of the labours of others. He considered great collections of the works of art in the light of great libraries, with this difference in favour of the former, that wliilst they instruct they decorate. Indeed all his passions, all his tastes, aU his ideas of employment or of relaxation from employment, almost all his accumulation, and all his expenditure, had a relation to his art. In this collection was vested a large, if not the largest part of his fortune ; and he was not likely from ignorance, inatten- tion, or want of practical or speculative judgment, to make great expenses for things of small or uncertain value." My dear Lady Inchiquin, take this, such as it is, as one of the poor testimonies of love and gratitude to the memory of our valu- able friend, and of my readiness to do whatever you would have me. 110 CORRESPONDENCE. Our best affections to Lord Inchiquin. I go to town on Wed- nesday; business coming on, on Thursday; so we cannot that day wait on you, and indeed, in my little time here, I have much to do. Ever most faithfully yours, Edm. Burke. Bight Hon. Henry Dundas to Richard Burke, Jun., Esq. Whitehall, August 1, 1792. Sir, I received a few days ago your letter to me of the 20th of last month, informing me, as one of his majesty's confidential servants, that the Catholics of Ireland have directed you to lose no time in renewing your application to me for an audience upon the same important affair, which, as their agent, you transacted with me during the last winter ; and desiring me to name the time when you might wait upon me. Before you went to Ireland last winter, I must call to your re- collection, that I exphcitly stated to you, as did Mr. Pitt, that his majesty's ministers here did not conceive it advisable to enter into the discussion of any proposition with respect to the Catholics of Ireland, which did not pass through the Irish government. The same reasons which have heretofore existed, operate now with equal force, and reduce me to the necessity of declining the honour of an interview with you on any business which you, as agent to the Catholics of Ireland, are desirous of transacting with me in that capacity. From the unremitting attention which has been paid by the lord lieutenant to the duties of his high and important station, and the zeal he has manifested to promote, by every means in his power, the general interests of the empire, 1 cannot entertain a doubt of his readiness to receive and transmit any application, from any description of his majesty's subjects in Ireland, when made to him in a regular and constitutional manner. If, therefore, any of his majesty's Catholic subjects have any request or represen- tation which they wish to lay before his majesty, they cannot be at a loss for the means of doing so, in a manner much more proper and authentic than through the channel of private conversation ; and, under these circumstances, his majesty's servants here do not think it proper to depart from the principle which they have esta- blished, by proceeding to the discussion of any subject wherein the CORRESPONDENCE. Ill Irish government is so materially concerned, which does not come before them through the regular channel. Having stated this to you, I shall forbear making any observa- tions on the contents of your letter. I am, sir. Your most obedient humble servant, Henry Dundas. P.S. — Since the above was written, I have been favoured with your letter of yesterday's date. Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to the Abbe de la Bintinnaye. Beconsfield, August 3, 1792. My dear Sir, I received the chevalier's kind letter written on his departure towards the important scene to which his virtue, honour, and pa- triotism carry him. I wish the unravelling of the plot of this ter- rible tragi-comedy may be happy to him, and to all good men. But I confess I have my fears from even the success of those who have been educated and hardened in the shallow, contemptible, and mischievous philosophy, economy, and politics of this age ; which makes them indisposed and unqualified for any great work in the restoration of so great and so undone a kingdom as France. A thousand thanks to you, my dear sir, for uniting me in your concern for these great and important interests. You have ah-eady done much for the cause, and with the greatest and most flattering par- tiality to myself. I have just seen Mr. Lally's book. It is not worthy of an answer. He that can talk of resources to the state from the goods of the clergy, after all the experience that has been had of the unprofitableness of dishonesty, must love proscription and plunder for their own sake. Is it not evident that this very project is the main cause of that confusion and desolation which he laments ? As to his schemes of the British constitution for France, it is not to know either France or England, or indeed any thing of mankind or of human affairs. I am sure he knows nothing of our constitution as it stands, and full as little of the process by which it has been made, and the manner in which it produces its effects. Nothing in England is as it appears to a common observer ; and this worthy gentleman is the very surface of superficiality. If any thing of the kind will amuse your leisure or dissipate your anxiety, I should not be sorry that you employed yourself in the refutation of these political projectors. Otherwise, it is not 112 Correspondence. necessary. Arms, and I am sorry to say foreign arms, must decide your fate. The proceedings at Paris are frantic and wicked beyond the dreams of madmen. Nothing that can happen to you is, or can be, worse than the present state of things, and that is a sort of a comfort in what may befall. My son is wholly taken up with the Irish affairs, which do not go on quite to his satisfaction, but is always cordially attached to you and to all yours. Mrs. Burke, my brother, and our captain '°, are the same. Pray, when you write to the worthy bishop, remember us to him with every expression of regard and esteem, and to Mademoiselle de Cic^. Say every thing for us to the chevalier, to whom I wish every thing which can contribute to his honour and happiness. I am ever, with the most affectionate attachment. My dear sir, Your most faithful and obliged humble servant, Edm. Burke. Richard Burke, Jun., Esq., to William BurJce, Esq. August 17, 1792. My deakest Feiend, I am afraid you will think me unaccountably remiss, in having let all the ships of the season pass without once having written to you. I trust, however, you are too well and too long acquainted with my entire affection, to suppose that my neglect has proceeded from the least alteration or abatement in it. I will not say that I have literally not had time to write, for that would not be true ; but I have in fact been engaged in such perpetual and anxious occupa^ tions, that I had not time for the quantity of matter which con- stantly grew upon me, on which I wished to discourse with you. I therefore postponed my packet for a moment of leisure which never came, or was constantly interrupted with some pressing and indis- pensable occupation. When I wrote to you last summer from Margate, I was, as you remember, setting out for Coblentz. Im- mediately on my return, I got into a negotiation, on behalf of the Irish Catholics, with the ministers here : the soUcitation and dis- cussions attending which pretty well engrossed me during the autumn, and in the beginning of the winter carried me over to Ireland, where I was in pretty hot and complicated political contro- versy ; and since my return in the latter end of April, I have been '° Captain, afterwards admiral, Sir Edmund Nagle, K.CB., a relation of Mr. Burke's on the mother's side. CORRESPONDENCE. 113 actively pursuing the same business here, and 1 am now about to return to Ireland again. In this moment, I snatch up the pen to make myself some amends for my long silence, and that, if possible, you may not be a whole year without hearing from me. Since I wrote to you last, my life has become a little more eventful, and I have, in my Irish expedition, made a kind of essay on the public stage, and upon the whole, I have left a tolerably good impression. As to my foreign trip, it was principally pleasure and curiosity, though not without a view of being useful, if the opportunity occurred. Nothing could be more grateful than the reception I met with universally from the exiled French nobility, whose veneration and gratitude to my father were without- bounds. It was, however, a melancholy thing to see the flower of every thing which was illustrious in France compelled to seek refuge in the little courts of Germany, and in a miserable depend- ence on the false and feeble councils of foreign cabinets, and the hope of their precarious succours. Such then appeared to be those of Austria and of Prussia. (I wish they could be said to be now entirely free from that reproach !) The poor French princes and their followers (the entire nobility of France) were but too much the sport of intrigues, and the victims of this wretched depend- ence. Bythino donee libeat vigilare tyranno •'. Their royal protectors and patrons would neither give them effec- tual support, nor leave them quite without hope. This was their situation while I was there. I received constant marks of their kindness and confidence,^ — to a certain degree partook in their councils, and, at my departure, accepted a sort of provisional authority to treat on their behalf with the English ministers, if I should find them at all disposed to enter into the plans in agitation in the different courts of Europe, for the restoration of the French monarchy. On my return, I found the ministers had made up their minds determinately to a strict neutrality, and that they were resolved not to interfere to the right or left. I therefore pursued this business no farther. In the mean time the Irish affairs came across, and led my thoughts and exertions another way, so that foreign tour turned out nothing more than a pleasant and interest- ing excursion. ]My Irish tour has, indeed, had a very different event, and plunged me over head and ears in public affairs. I cannot pretend to give you a detail of all my adventures on the other side of the water, which, indeed, would be a little history and an account of a political controversy. I wiU, however, give you a ^ * Juv. Sat. X. VOL. II. I 1 14 COKRESPONDENCE. general sketch of it, that you may not be quite unacquainted with the circumstances in which I have been so earnestly engaged. I am not to inform you of the general state and history of the Catholics of Ireland, or of the hardship and merits of their case. These, you were too conversant with my father''s early years and interests, not to be pretty familiar with. You will therefore easily judge, that nothing could be a more natural object of my ambition, than to be engaged in the accomplishment of his earliest desire to alleviate these oppressions, and to be considered and regarded by that description of people. They had already em- ployed me to write some papers for them, about a year before; and immediately on my arrival from abroad, I found one of their body here, who came over to engage me to solicit the English ministry in their behalf. You may imagine no occupation could in every point of view be more acceptable to me. Independent of the particular grounds of argument in favour of the pretensions of my clients, (which I will not trouble you with, as you know there are principles of policy as well as of justice in aU public questions,) I did not fail to urge the advantage that would accrue to the cause of government, by attaching to itself such a body as the Catholics of Ireland ; giving them an interest in the established constitution, and using them as a counterbalance to the great body of the Dissenters, supposed not to be a little infected with the new theoretical doctrines. I found the English ministers disposed to enter into my ideas from the very first, and I succeeded in keeping them so, notwithstanding the reluctance and strenuous opposition of the Irish government. Hobart, who was my schoolfellow at Westminster, and is now secretary in Ireland, was sent over to counteract my negotiation ; but he retm-ned with instructions to comply with the requisitions I had made on behalf of the Cathohcs. These were, a power to practise the law, to serve in provincial magistracies, on grand and petty juries, and to vote at county elections, though on somewhat a larger qualification. The Irish government prevailed only in one thing, by which, how- ever, they contrived to defeat me in the end ; which was, that the concessions should appear to proceed from themselves ; by which means they prevented government from being pledged to support the Catholics in these points ; and they reserved to themselves a power of frustrating the instructions of the English government, in the exercise of the discretion which it was impossible not to leave, as they obtained some in the execution of them. They were determined, at all events, the Catholics should not succeed. That I may explain to you the scheme they pursued, (which was not wholly without art,) I must take the business a little higher up. CORRESPONDENCE. 115 The affairs of the Oathohcs have been for some time conducted by a sort of committee, constructed somewhat on the principle of a representation. Lord Kenmare, an old friend of my father's, had, for a long time, had their principal confidence, but they found out at last that he had made himself a creature of the Castle, which had no other view than to put them off with fair words, and never to render them any real service. The natural consequence was, that he lost his credit by degrees, and the committee got into the hands of more sincere and zealous persons. One of their first steps was to employ me in the negotiation with the English govern- ment. The Castle, on the other side, endeavoured to rally this party of Lord Kenmare, to whom, as was not unnatural from his connexions, and his long nominal lead of the body, many of their principal people adhered. They got them to sign an address which, in effect, disavowed all the proceedings, and even the autho- rity of the committee, the negotiation in which I had been em- ployed, and declared that they would gratefully accept of any thing parliament chose to give. A division being thus made in the body, they persuaded themselves, and the other Protestants, that they might easily discountenance and intimidate the committee and those who adhered to it ; and they succeeded in raising the old Protestant cry, which I doubt would not have been possible, had the Catholics appeared to be united ; which, indeed, they were in effect. The Castle imagined, that by running down one party as low and seditious persons, and strengthening the others by making them the channel of some, though not very effective bene- fits, they should keep them all at their mercy. Accordingly a bill was brought in on this principle, conceding only the profession of the law, with repeal of some few obsolete and insignificant restric- tions. This boon, such as it was, was pretended to be given as a reward to the approved principles and conduct of the addressers ; and every sort of reproach and obloquy was thrown upon the com- mittee. As the negotiation had been so prosperously begun, I resolved to pursue it. When I got to Ireland, the address had just been pre- sented. The Castle people and friends of government received me with every kind of civility ; but it was not difficult to perceive the game they were playing. I was, therefore, obliged to take my part, which naturally was with my committee ; and I found myself at once, involuntarily, in a contest with the government I had gone over to serve and support. However, I had the pleasure to see an infinite majority of the Catholics declare in favour of the committee. It was a new sight in Ireland to see columns of newspapers filled with advertisements for meetings, and with spirited public resolutions of I 2 116 CORRESPONDENCE. papists. Thus I found myself at once, under the name of agent to the Oathohcs, in eifect at the head of a great party. As we had lost the support of administration, it was natural to look to the opposition. I had, from my first going over, received some over- tures, and great civility, from Grattan and Ourran, and several other members of the party, with whom, indeed, I was before acquainted. At one time it was not impossible we should have had the whole, or the greatest part, of the opposition ; but the adversaries contrived to raise such a spirit among the Protestants, as intimidated the greatest number of our parliamentary friends. The tide seemed completely turned against us. However, Grattan at last plucked up heart, and agreed to the bringing in a petition from the committee, praying a share in the elective franchise. He then took up the cause with a force and animation which, if he had followed my advice in showing in time, the adverse spirit would never have been raised. When the petition was brought up, it is difficult to conceive the insolence and indignity with which the majority of the House received it ; but when Grattan and several others came out stoutly to defend the cause, the general appearance of things was changed, and the other party in its turn began to flinch, and seemed perfectly ashamed of themselves, so that you would have said the House was even favour- ably disposed. The next day, however, the enemy rallied again, and our petition was formally rejected ; though it had the day before been brought up, and ordered to lie upon the table. How- ever, the friends we had fought stoutly, and we had infinitely the best of the debate, though they were only twenty-seven in number ; but it was in truth almost all the debating ability in the House. This is a short account of our parliamentary campaign, which, I much fear, is indistinct, as I cannot, in the compass of a letter, enter into particulars enough to make it clear. During all the heat of the controversy, I continue to receive civilities from the court and Protestant party. With regard to the Catholics, it was impossible for any thing to exceed their kindness, affection, and confidence, which grew every day I stayed amongst them. You will naturally suppose that intrigues were not wanting to subvert and undermine me in their confidence. I think I was assailed suc- cessively by almost every party and every kind of men ; however, I contrived to stand my ground. I must say, that my friends showed a degree of steadiness, fidelity, and constancy, which was not to be expected amongst a young party. There is one circumstance in the parliamentary history which I must explain to you, as it must have surprised and probably alarmed you ; — the idea that I had got into a personal scrape. It is true that the violence of the anti-catholic party set up a furious cry against me in the House, and called out CORRESPONDENCE. 117 to have me taken into custody. It was but a fruitless and innoxious display of illiberality ; for I was, in truth, in no danger. At the time when the opposition failed me, I had prepared a petition, which the Catholics were determined to present, however unsup- ported. For want of a more efficient man, I prevailed upon O'Hara to undertake it, which, I will do him the justice to say, he under- took manfully enough ; if he had been able to go through with it, it had done very well. But he was not able to stand the rage of the majority, and was so confounded, that he mis-stated the purport of the petition. I stepped out of the gallery to try to get some member to go up and put him right. I might possibly have been a few inches within the body of the House, upon which they set up a cry of " a stranger in the House," and called out "custody ! custody ! " What end it would have answered to take me into custody, I know not ; but I prevented them by a timely retreat. After the House was up, I stood by the door while the members came out, and had the pleasure of seeing that, individually, they were somewhat ashamed of their rudeness in the aggregate ; and they made me amends by a great deal of personal civility, and even some apologies the next day. This was the only unpleasant circumstance that happened during my stay in Ireland, and I left it in very good humour with all parties. Since my return here, I have been en- gaged in constant solicitation. The Irish government has made a violent resistance to further concession ; and though I think I have the opinion of the ministers pretty generally with me, I despair of getting any thing decisive done in our favour until there is another lord lieutenant, which probably will not be very long. I then trust we shall be able to accomplish our objects. In the mean time we must battle it as well as we can with the Castle and the high- flying Protestants. This question now engrosses the whole atten- tion of politicians in Ireland. AU other questions and interests are merged in it. Though we have so small a party in parliament, the Protestants out of doors are very much divided. By one of the strange revolutions which take place in men''s minds, the Dissenters have become the warmest partisans of the Catholics. What designs their leaders may have ultimately, we must not examine too closely. One of my principal views in going to Ireland was to connect the Catholics, in preference, with the government party. But as the Church will not have them, they must take support where they can get it. I am unwilling to believe ill of men who espouse so good a cause as that of the Catholics ; and, though they have shown some pretty strong symptoms in favour of the French system, I believe it has not taken a deep root. I am sure, however, that it is in the power of government to quiet all the real uneasiness of the country, 118 CORRESPONDENCE. and to secure its own stability, whenever it chooses to take the Catholics by the hand. I am almost ashamed of having taken up so much time in a business which, though important enough itself, dwindles to nothing amidst the great interests which are at this moment at stake. The prospect of all Europe is exceedingly gloomy. We are every day in expectation of the effect of the Duke of Brunswick's invasion at the head of the combined armies of Austria and Prussia. I much fear that the politics of these parties are not sound, not that I imagine they want to dismember France. But they are not cured of the natural jealousy all princes have of intermediate orders, — nobility, clergy, parliament, and all such establishments, from which they have been used in ordinary times to find obstruction to their will. Instead, therefore, of endeavouring to build on these natural foundations of all just government, it is to be feared their object is to carve a sort of royal authority out of this very revolution. The feuillants are most of them the original authors of the revolution ; but like the presbyterians of the last century, finding themselves out-played at their own game of faction, they began to affect moderation, and to take up the cause of the monarchy ; not, indeed, upon its old foundations, but as modified in this new constitution. It is, properly speaking, to support this party that the present war is made on France. A new revolution has taken place in conse- quence of it, more bloody, furious, and violent, than the first. You wiU see the particulars of it in the papers. We have not yet heard that it has gone beyond Paris, but it will extend all over France. What effect this will have on the operations of the combined armies, and the councils of the cabinets, remains to be seen. It is certainly a crisis for all Europe. If this expedition fails, Germany will infaUibly be over-run, and it is vain to think that England can long escape the contagion. England has unaccountably and inconceiva- bly drawn itself out of all intercourse in the aifairs of Europe, the councils of which are almost universally in the worst possible hands; — that of foreign ministers, — the corps diplomatic ; — therefore, God knows what will become of us. The internal affairs of England have taken a very happy turn, at least for the moment. The democratic party is entirely dis- countenanced and run down ; but there it is, and will of course raise up its head the first favourable moment. The association of the " friends of the people," was the first effort, though with great appearance of moderation, to give a practical application and direc- tion to the humours which are afloat. My father instantly went down to the House to attack it. This time he was supported, as you will have seen, very greatly by both sides of the House. It CORRESPONDENCE. 119 was, indeed, a great triumph. I happened to be present, and I do assure you there was as great an eagerness shown to avow and repeat my father's sentiments, as there had been, the year before, to fly at him on one side, and to fly from him on the other. The proclamation which was issued soon after, was a concerted mea- sure between the Duke of Portland and Pitt. The concurrence of sentiment which appeared in the House led to an interview, and that, to the proclamation. Never was any measure so unanimously followed throughout the nation. Your friend has the glory of being the leader of the whole. In fame and eminence it is impos- sible for any thing to stand higher. I am not without my fears for the democratic party. Even the moment of success and vigour in that infinitely superior number who are attached to the constitu- tion, carries with it some appearances of inefficiency, not generally observed, but which are truly alarming. If the Duke of Bruns- wick fails, we shall fall here without a blow. You will have heard much of coalitions. There have been, indeed, some coquetries going on, as was inevitable. The ministers, of course, wish to detach the duke ' and his friends from Fox, with whom he is still formally connected ; though in principle and substance the con- nexion is at an end. This, however, the duke does not see ; and he retains a personal fondness which will not suffer him to believe any deliberate ill. The schism would certainly be attended with many difficulties. I should not be surprised, however, if in the end a general coalition took place. My father thinks the duke ought to come in with Fox, if he will pledge himself to a fair constitutional conduct ; otherwise, without him ; which he might do with great credit and power. As an earnest of the good disposition of court and government, he is supported by them for the chancellorship of Oxford, though against the Duke of Beaufort. He ^ has declined, so our duke comes in without contest. Adieu ! I send you with these a sheet of a letter I wrote on the false news of the taking of Seringapatam. Though that has turned out to be false, we, who were not so sanguine as you in the hopes of the Indian war, are very well pleased with the peace you have made, which is indeed glorious. I am afraid your share of the spoil wUl not be very con- siderable ; but, whatever it is, do not despise it. I received your short letters, similar to that you wrote to Adey, which came long- after the public despatches. Alas ! my dear friend, there I cannot avoid condemning you. It is the rock upon which you originally split, and it can never prove a haven to you. The effect of the termination of the war was very different from what we expected. ' The Duke of Portland. ^ The Duke of Beaufort. 120 CORRESPONDENCE. India stock sunk upon it more than two per cent. I am highly- pleased with D.'s recommendation of you to Lord OornwaUis. I have spoken to him again to renew it. My parliamentary career, if ever it is to be, must wait till there is some coalition of parties. I wait, sometimes with patience, sometimes not ; but on the whole I am convinced, that what is, is best. My outward frame is not the strongest, to say nothing of the inward part ; and many circumstances have occurred to divert my attention from public affairs. However, I still keep a look towards them, and gratify my mind with the dream of doing some- thing on the English stage. I have sometimes thought of parKa- ment in Ireland ; not that I should at all like to pitch my tent definitively there. But God knows how long parliament, or any part of the present system of things, is to endure. The other matters you interest yourself about, I have often reproached myself with. But I do not know that it is entirely my own fault. I have had a project or two for the purpose which has come to nothing. You must recollect something of our circumstances of life, which make my choice in many respects very limited ; but that too may come in its time. * * * * * * * *^ Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Lord Grenville. Beconsfield, August 18, 1792. I do not know whether I can perfectly justify myself in venturing to trouble your lordship, in my imperfect state of knowledge, with any suggestions of mine. But I trust, that however weak you may find my notions, you will believe that they are formed with general good intentions, and that they are laid before you with all possible respect to yourself and to your colleagues, and with real good wishes for whatever may contribute to your reputation in the conduct of the king's business. The late shocking, though long expected, event at Paris, has rendered, in my opinion, every step that shall be taken with regard to France, at this conjuncture, extremely delicate. The part of a neutral power is, in itself, delicate ; but parti- cularly so in a case in which it is impossible to suppose that, in this neutraUty, there should not be some lurking wish in favour of one of the parties in the contest. The conduct of such a power will be looked up to with hope and fear during the contention. ' The part omitted relates to Mr. W. Burke's private aifairs. CORRESPONDENCE. 121 Every thing which such a power says or does, will be construed by an application to the circumstances. The present circumstances are an attack upon the King of France's palace ; the murder of all who were found in it ; the im- prisonment of the king ; his suspension, stated by the faction itself as a deposition; acts of violence which have obliged the majority of the national assembly to absent themselves from their functions ; add to these, the intention, not in the least ambiguous, of bringing the king and queen to a trial ; the resolution expressed by many of putting them to death, with or without that formality. The effect of these things, from their very nature, and from the nature of men, as well as from the principle on which they are done, at a time when theories are rashly formed, and readily pass from speculation into practice, and when ill examples, at all times apt to infect, are so unusually contagious, it is unnecessary for me to state to one of your lordship's sagacity and penetration. This last revolution, whatever name it may assume, at present bears no one character of a national act. It is the act only of some desperate persons, inhabitants of one city only, instigating and hiring at an enormous expense the lowest of the people, to destroy the monarch and the monarchy, with whatever else is respectable in society. Not one officer of the national guards of Paris, which officers are composed of nothing higher than good tradesmen, has appeared in this business. It is not yet adopted throughout France by any one class of people. No regular govern- ment of any country has yet an object with which they can decently treat in France, or to which they can rationally make any official declaration whatsoever. In such a state of things, to address the present heads of the insurrection, put by them into the nominal administrative depart- ments of state office, is to give a direct sanction to their authority on the part of the court of Great Britain. To this time, the King of France's name has appeared to every public act and instrument ; and all office transactions to our court, and to every other foreign court, have appeared in their usual form. If we pleased, it was in our power to shut our eyes to every thing else ; but this is now no longer possible. I should, therefore, beg leave to submit it to consideration, whether to recognize the leaders in the late mur- derous insurrection, as the actual governors of France, is not, at best, a little premature. Perhaps it may be a doubt, as a matter of sound policy, whether more would not be lost by this hasty recognition on the side of the great, settled, and acknowledged powers, than we can hope to gain by pressing to pay our court to this, at best, unformed and embryo potentate. I take it for 122 CORRESPONDENCE. granted, that it will not be easy for Lord Gk)wer * to continue in his present situation. If it were even thought for the dignity of this crown, no man of honour and spirit would submit to it. It is a sacrifice too great to be made, of all generous and noble feehng. I should humbly propose it for consideration, whether, on his retreat, great reserve ought not to be used with regard to awn declaration. If any person standing in the place of a minister should apply to him for an explanation, he ought, in my poor opinion, to be absolutely silent. But if that should not be thought the best course, he might say that he had had leave to return on his private affairs. The King of Spain has no minister at Paris, yet his neutrality has hitherto been complete. The neutrality of this court has already been more than once declared. At this moment, any over-prompt and affected new declaration on that subject, made to the persons who have lately vaulted into the seat of government, after committing so many atrocious acts and threatening more, would have all the force and effect of a declaration in their favour. Although it should be covered with mollifying expressions with regard to the king's personal safety, (which will be considered as nothing but a sacrifice to decorum and ceremony, and as mere words of course,) it will appear to the Jacobin faction as a direct recommendation to their meditated act of regicide ; know- ing, as the world does, their dispositions, their menaces, their preparations, and the whole train of the existing circumstances. In that case, to say, " I hope you mean no ill, and I recommend it to you to do no ill, but do what you please, you have nothing to fear from me," would be plainly to call upon them to proceed to any lengths their wickedness might carry them. It is a great doubt with me, whether a declaration to this new power, a creature almost literally of yesterday, and a creature of treasonable and murderous riot of the lowest people in one city, is not a substantial breach of the neutrality promised to the power to whom originally the neutrality was assured, on the interposition of foreign powers ; namely, to the most Christian king. To take the first opportunity, with the most extraordinary haste, to remove all fears from the minds of his assassins, is tantamount to taking a part against him. Much I fear, that though nothing could be more remote from the intention of this court, yet if such a declaration were made, and if the act of atrocity apprehended should actually take place, we shall be considered as ready accom- plices in it, and a sort of accessories before the fact ; particularly when no declaration on the part of our court has been called for by * At this time ambassadoi' at Paris from the court of London, COKKESPONOENCE. 123 the new power, and that, as yet, they have no minister at this court. If the step of the recal of our minister (supposing such a step in contemplation) should produce any fears in them, I see no use in removing those fears. On our part, the navy of France is not so formidable that I think we have any just ground of appre- hension that she will make war upon us. It is not the enmity, but the friendship of France that is truly terrible. Her intercourse, her example, the spread of her doctrines, are the most dreadful of her arms. I do not see what a nation loses in reputation or in safety, by keeping its conduct in its ovm power. I think such a state of free- dom in the use of a moral and political reserve in such unheard-of circumstances, can be well justified to any sovereign abroad, or to any person or party at home. I perceive that much pains are taken by the Jacobins of England to propagate a notion, that one state has not a right to interfere according to its discretion in the interior affairs of another. This strange notion can only be supported by a confusion of ideas, and by not distinguishing the case of rebellion and sedition in a neighbouring country, and taking a part in the divisions of a country when they do prevail, and are actually formed. In the first case there is undoubtedly more diffi- culty than in the second, in which there is clearly no difiiculty at aU. To interfere in such dissensions requires great prudence and circumspection, and a serious attention to justice, and to the policy of one's own country, as well as to that of Europe. But an abstract principle of public law, forbidding such interference, is not sup- ported by the reason of that law, nor by the authorities on the subject, nor by the practice of this kingdom, nor by that of any civilized nation in the world. This nation owes its laws and liber- ties, his majesty owes the throne on which he sits, to the contrary principle. The several treaties of guarantee to the Protestant succession more than once reclaimed, affirm the principle of inter- ference, which in a manner forms the basis of the public law in Europe. A more mischievous idea cannot exist, than that any degree of wickedness, violence, and oppression, may prevail in a country, that the most abominable, murderous, and exterminating rebellions may rage in it, or the most atrocious and bloody tyranny may domineer, and that no neighbouring power can take cognizance of either, or afford succour to the miserable sufferers. I trust your lordship will have the goodness to excuse the free- dom taken by an old member of parliament. The habits of the House of Commons teach a liberty, perhaps improper, with regard to office. But be assured, there is nothing in mine that has the smallest mixture of hostility ; and it will, I trust, appear that my 124 COREESPONDENCE. motives are candid and friendly, if ever this affair should come into discussion in the House of Commons, and I should feel myself called on to deliver my opinions. If I were, as formerly T have been, in systematic opposition, (most assuredly I am not so now,) I had much rather, according to my practice in more instances than one, respectfully to state a doubt to ministers whilst a measure is depending, than to reproach them afterwards with its conse- quences in my place. What I write will, I hope, at worst, be thought the intrusion of an importunate friend. I am thoroughly convinced that the faction of the English Jacobins, though a little under a cloud for the present, is neither destroyed nor disheartened. The fire is still alive under the ashes. Every encouragement, direct or indirect, given to their brethren in France, stirs and animates the embers. So sure as we have an existence, if these things should go on in France, as go on they may, so sure it is, that in the ripeness of their time, the same tragedies will be acted in England. Oarra, and Condorcet, and Santerre, and Manuel, and Petion, and their brethren the Priestleys, the Coopers, and the Watts — the deputies of the body of the Dissenters and others at Manchester, who embraced Oarra in the midst of the Jacobin club ; — the revolu- tion-society that received Petion in London ; — the whole race of the affiliated, who are numerous and powerful, whose principles, dispositions, and wishes are the very same, are as closely connected as ever ; and they do not fail to mark and to use every thing that shows a remissness, or any equivocal appearance in government, to their advantage. I conceive that the Duke of Brunswick is as much fighting the battle of the crown of England, as the Duke of Cum- berland did at Culloden. I conceive that any unnecessary declara- tions on our part will be to him, and to those who are disposed to put a bound to the empire of anarchy and assassination, a signal discouragement. The cause of my dread, and perhaps over-ofiicious anxiety, at this time, has arisen from what (you will have the goodness to pardon me) I thought rather too much readiness to declare on other occasions. Perhaps I talk of a thing not at all in contemplation. If no thoughts of the kind have been entertained, your lordship will be pleased to consider this as waste paper. It is, at any rate, but as a hint to yourself, and requires no answer. I have the honour to be, &c. &c. Edm. Bubke. CORRESPONDENCE. 1 25 Right Hon. Edmund Burke to the Chevalier de Gram. Beconsfield, Augu3t 24, 1792. SlU, I am obliged to you for the honour you have done me in sending me your letter to the president of the national assembly. The pictiu*e you have drawn of the calamitous state of your country must deeply affect every mind out of which the spirit of system has not effaced aU the genuine sentiments of natural humanity. It is impossible, sir, not to take a particular interest in men who have made sacrifices to their honour, even where we may differ in opinion about the exact propriety of their conduct. I really do justice to the purity of your motives, in your acceptance and in your resignation of the place you held in one of the late transitory administrations. In great revolutions, and in critical situations like those which France has for some time experienced, great errors are, in a manner, unavoidable. He knows little of mankind, and feels less for them, who is not sensible of this, and who will not make a liberal allowance for our common and inevitable infirmity. It is enough if errors are not shown in crimes ; and if, by obstinacy, mistake is not heightened into madness. I believe that your acceptance of ministry, under circumstances under which it was evidently impossible to perform its duties, and in which no degree of reputation could be obtained, was imputable to the dreadful necessities of the time, and to a laudable desire of pre- venting as much evil as may be, where to do good was hopeless. Such a necessity will often involve the best of men in the worst of systems. In that light I consider the new constitution of France, in all its parts. Nothing has happened but what was the natural and inevitable effect of that fatal constitution, and its absurd and wicked principles. Nothing has been the effect of accident. Every successive event was the direct result of that which pre- ceded it ; and the whole, the effect of the false basis on which that constitution was originally laid. A more deplorable monument of the weakness and malignity of which the human mind is capable, never has been raised in any time, or in any country. I am sure it gives me sincere sorrow, that you, together with so many thou- sands of worthy patriots, have been sacrificed to that idol. You speak of returning to France, when such a party as you describe is formed in France. Such a party can never be formed there. The predominant faction have taken good care that their body-politic should not contain within itself any remedy for its own distempers. As their contrivance imitates nature in nothing else, so neither 126 CORRESPONDENCE. does it in this great circumstance of self-healing powers and pro- perties. I shall go to Bath towards the end of next week ; but my stay there will not be very long. On my return, if it suits your con- venience to do me the honour, I shall be happy to receive you, and pay you my respects in this place. I have the honour to be, with very great respect, Sir, Your most obedient and humble servant, Edm. Bueke. Extract of a Letter from the Bight Hon. Edmimd Burke to Mr. William Burhe in India. September, 1792. ****** This is the politics of the little neighbourhood. I will now say a word to the politics of the great neighbourhood. Last winter produced extraordinary phenomena. In my opinion, as long as the desperate system which prevails in France can maintain itself, we shall always find some eruption or other here. The fire is constantly at work ; it sometimes blazes out. It is sometimes smothered, or rather covered, by the ashes ; — but there it is, and there it will be. The whole edifice of ancient Europe is shaken by the earthquake caused by the fire. One part of the building only is level with the ground ; but all is impaired very considerably. For my part, I think that even in the efforts made by princes to re-establish the ancient order of things, signs of great weakness, and even of those causes which they are leagued to prevent, are very discernible. But the complete security of many people here, I hold to be amongst the most alarming of the symptoms of our present distemper. Last winter they were roused from this security, but only to fall into it again. The remedies they used left the distemper where it was, but it has increased the security, which is the most dangerous effect of it. The association for parliamentary reform, which is composed of amateurs of the French revolution, and certainly had the spirit of that revolution for its vital principle, and, in most of the members, for its ultimate object, gave a very great and serious alarm, not most or first to the ministers^ (though to them a good deal too,) but to the older and weighty party of the opposition, who saw, upon that occasion, the necessity of strengthening the hands of govern- ment. They came to an understanding, and thence into a degree COREESPONDENCE. 127 of concert with administration. Many things were proposed, but both parties seemed to agree but in one (and, indeed, no more was much pressed) ; that is, in the address of the two Houses, to be supported by mutual concurrence of the principal of both parties. Fox was put into great straits. The young, and vigor- ous, and enterprising of his party had led in that business. The weighty, grave, important, the men of settled character and in- fluence, were strongly against it. In this situation you may believe he found himself embarrassed and mortified. Though he had done all in his power to excite the spirit from whence that associa- tion had its rise, the measure did not originate from his advice, nor was it carried on from any active encouragement of his. How- ever, when the affair came to the test, he showed which divi- sion in the party he thought it the most for his purpose, or the most agreeable to his inclination, to adhere to. He fell foul on the address, though he well knew that it did in effect begin from the Duke of Portland, and that the draft had been laid before him, and settled in a manner agreeable to his ideas. All this, however, pro- duced no rupture between the duke and him, though on his part great vexation. All this agreement concerning the safety of the fundamental part of the constitution, naturally produced approxima- tion towards each other, of the ministry, and one part of the leaders of opposition. A sort of negotiation between Lord Loughborough and Dundas was commenced with the approbation of the Duke of Portland, for a comprehension of parties, and putting the adminis- tration on a broader and, as they think, a safer bottom. The mi- nisters say, that they think they are full strong enough for the sup- port of their own power and situation, and that they are not the less strong for getting rid of the chancellor "; but they confess they are not strong enough for the public purposes of administration, and for the steps which the exigencies of the time may require. These exigencies can be only the changes brought about in Europe by the situation of France ; but I do not find that these are any part of the object in view by either of the parties, which makes me (who conceive, and indeed am quite sure, that all other politics are absorbed and drawn into that one gulf,) very indifferent about the final result of this negotiation ; I say final result, because, though it seems as if it were broken off, I do not think it is so, conclusively. The difficulty, in fact, is the arrangement of Fox, and that difficulty is greatly increased by the strange conduct held by the Duke of Portland, who, in proposing the arrangement to Fox, never made the political principle upon which that arrange- ^ Lord Thurlow. The great seal having been put in commission in June of this year. 128 CORRESPONDENCE. ment was to be made, any part, much less the fundamental part, of the negotiation. In truth, I do not see how the duke should think of coming into office, or desiring his friends to do so, unless there was something in the circumstances of the moment suffi- ciently urgent to justify a departure from systematic opposition. This could be nothing but the necessity of strengthening the monarchy against the principles of French republicanism; but Fox, upon whom the duke turned the whole negotiation, without the least reference to any political principle, saw plainly that he could not be arranged in a manner suitable to the rank in which undoubtedly he stands. To abandon all the young and energetic part of the party, and the whole body of the Dissenters, upon whom he has lately built his principal hopes, is what would be difficult for him to do. He, therefore, made a point of what he knew Lord Loughborough would not dare even to mention to Pitt, that Mr. Pitfs abdication of the treasury should be a sine qua non in the negotiation; and he prevailed on the Duke of Portland on his part to make an abdication of his pretensions to that situation, to neutralize the office that generally goes with that of first minis- ter ; that is, to put it into the hands of the Marquis of Bath (Lord Weymouth), or the Duke of Leeds. This would, in effect, com- pletely, set aside the Duke of Portland for ever, and put up the treasury in hands avowedly holding it only in interim and ineffectually, to be fought for as a prize by court intrigue or parlia- mentary conflict between him and Pitt. Into this trap the duke has given. Fox will not arrange on other terms, and the duke does not think it advisable to arrange without Fox. You see, that if Pitt did choose to give up his post, of which he is in posses- sion, to game for the chance of it afterwards, how much this arrangement, made to produce peace and settlement, must lead to eternal confusion ; — ^you see plainly enough. I do not know any thing more likely, in the present crisis of politics, to ruin the tranquillity, and, with it, to endanger the safety of the kingdom. As to Pitt, I believe the idea can be no secret to him. But nothing was proposed by Lord Loughborough, the negotiator, but to place him generally in a cabinet office. Pitt did not directly put a negative on it, but said the idea was new to him ;— that he felt the importance of Fox's abilities in the support of government ; — that he had no sort of personal animosity to him, but rather, per- sonally, good will and good liking ; but that, from the part he had taken through the whole session, and particularly on the proclama- tion, he did not see how he could be recommended to the king's confidence, at least without some further explanations. The minis- ters, after this, made no attempt to renew the negotiation. You CORRESPONDENCE. 129 see that the duke is more and more in Fox's power, — indeed, is now delivered over to him, bound hand and foot ; and must be so, until he puts his conduct upon some distinct principle, on which an issue between them may be fairly joined. You may easily conceive that this negotiation, totally destitute of all foundation in political principle, was not, at least in the mode and terms, of my advising. I saw the mischief of any arrangement which should make Fox desperate, and put him, in the most desperate manner, at the head of the worst, designing men, as well as the duke or any one else could do. But my advice was, that, as a founda- tion of the whole, the political principle must be settled as the preliminary; — namely, "a total hostility to the French system at home and abroad ;" that this ought to be put as a test to Fox, on which, if he gave security by declaration and conduct, he would be, if so, separated from the factions, and lose their confidence ; and then, whether he came in or not, the duke would preserve con- sistency, character, and dignity, by adhering to him, and making his power an object in all his mancBuvres, whether of opposition or negotiation. If he refused this test, grounded on the sole motive of a coalition of parties, he would leave the Duke of Portland and Lord FitzwilHam, and all the sound part of their friends, at liberty to take such steps as they pleased for the public benefit; and thus, by an increase of reputation, they would gain more in the nation than they lost in a faction that does not belong to them ; and though, without question, that faction would continue to fight, with Fox and Sheridan at their head, yet, when it was clearly known what they fought for, and on what they divided with their old friends, they would fight at every kind of disadvantage ; — but things have taken another turn. The Duke of Portland does not dare to propose a test to Fox, and Lord Loughborough did not dare to propose an abdication of the treasury to Pitt. The thing that encourages Fox to take the steps, and to make the demands he does, is a persuasion he cannot part with, that is, that the king is grown quite weary of Pitt ; that he is intolerable to his majesty, and that, in that humour, he has no objection at all to him. Fox. I have no doubt that he is confirmed in those sentiments by the ex-chancellor ; but I am sure that they both either deceive themselves wholly, or, at least, greatly exaggerate the grounds of their hope. So far as to this. To your Indian interests I have little to say. I rejoice in the conclusion of the war. I rejoice in the glory which Lord Oornwallis has acquired in the war, and in its termination ; I wish only that you had some share in the advantage of it, which you do not hint at, and I believe is not the case. Lord Guilford, VOL. II. K 130 CORRESPONDENCE. and I believe with ground, is reported to be the successor of Lord Oornwallis. I believe he may have it if he pleases. You may be sure, if that should prove as it is supposed, you wUl not be neglected. What do you say to the Duke of Portland's being chancellor to the university of Oxford ? It was not originally proposed by ministers, but it was countenanced by them. Character had the chief operation. He is vastly pleased. The Duke of Beaufort was the other candidate, but he has given up his pretensions. The Duke of Portland was offered the blue ribbon, but he has declined it. He is vastly pleased with the other. The elder Eichard is at Cheltenham, for a scorbutic humour with which he is troubled. All the Portlands are. there. Our young Richard is again in Ireland ; what success he will finally have, I know not ; but his mind and body are totally occupied with that arduous affair. God bring him safely through it ! My ever dear friend, God bring you safely to us ! May we have one cheerful winter's evening, at the close of our short day, before we go to bed. — Adieu ! — Adieu ! — You are in my heart to its last beat ; so you are with us all. Jane has been ill for a day, by mistake of a medicine ; since then — now the sixth day, she has been gathering strength ; and this morning, I bless God, is in perfect health, as she will tell you in a line or two. We have received all your letters, and a thousand, thousand thanks for them. Old General Conway is infinitely pleased with what you have written to him. The Bight Hon. Edmvmd Burhe to Bichard BurJce, Jim., Esq. Beconsfield, September, 1792. My ever dear Richard, I trust you are in Dublin, and have got safely the two letters I directed there for you. I send this to you by my excellent friend Dr. Moylan. In those letters I gave you my ideas in general. Particularly I pressed what I now press again ; that those to whose cause we wish well in Ireland, would leave off the topic, of which some of them are so fond, that of attributing the con- tinuance of their grievances to English interests or dispositions, to which they suppose the welfare of Ireland is sacrificed. I do not know whether they believe me or not ; or whether they may not think that I too speak from that sort of policy. But believe what they will, there is not one story which the Protestant ascendancy tells of them that is more perfectly groundless than that notion. CORRESPONDENCE. 131 What interest has any individual Tiere, or what interest has the whole kingdom collectively, that the Cathohcs of Ireland should have no share in the election of memhers of parliament \ Since the inde- pendency, (and even before,) the jobs of that government are almost whoUy in their hands. The whole that England or that Englishmen get from it, is a very trifle, not worth the consideration of any, the smallest body of men ; and if they think that the court party, or the ministerial party, or any party whatsoever, on this side of the water, wish to keep down the Catholics in order to keep the whole mass of Ireland feeble, they do an injury to the quietness of their character ; at the same time, infinitely too great an honour to the profundity of their politics. I have never known any of the successive governments in my time influenced by any passion relative to Ireland, than the wish that they should hear of it and of its concerns as little as possible. For this reason, the present set of ministers, who partake of that disposition in a larger measure than any of their predecessors with whom I have been acquainted, have left the whole to the persons to whom they have abandoned Ireland ; and they again to that junto of jobbers who endeavour to secure to them their lucrative repose against the factions who may oppose them there, or the rivals who may want to succeed them from hence. Our friends are greatly, radically, and to themselves most dangerously mistaken, if they do not know that the whole of what they suffer is from cabals purely Irish. Mr. Hobart owes only the accident of his birth to this country. In connexions, in habits, and in the turn and genius of his politics, he is purely Irish. I have read the debate, or rather discourse, at the meeting of the Catholics of Dublin. I doubt whether in any House of Parliament so great ability could be shown in the dis- cussion of any subject. It forms a good omen of what may be ex- pected in Mr. Foster's " popish congress. Nothing could equal the provocation the Catholics have received, particularly from that race of conquerors, the corporation of Dublin. Yet I wish that some things had been more moderated ; not many indeed, but every thing which might even remotely be interpreted into a menace of force, or of any connexion with the cut-throats of France; or which might discover a disposition to throw the blame of what they suffer on this country, in whose moderation and impartiality alone their hopes of redress exist. I assure them, if they will trust a man of some reflection and much experience, that the resources of a per- severing, litigious, dissatisfied obedience, are much greater than those of almost any force, even if any force they had. But any " The Right Hon. John Foster, then speaker of the Irish House of Commons, and an active opponent of the claims of the Roman Catholics of Ireland. K 2 132 CORRESPONDENCE. thing like the menace of a force which does not exist, and which, too, is known not to exist, gives offence where it can inspire no fear, in those who know the true state of things ; and to those who do not know it, raises an alarm, the effect of which is, the desire of opposing to it a contrary force, to support a grievance which is felt only by others, rather than to run the risk of any change which might derange an order, in the preservation of which they have, or think they have, a greater interest than they can derive iFrom a reformation, attended with equal uneasiness and confusion. I am to tell you (but this to yourself,) that Lord Loughborough and Windham are alarmed about the present state of Europe in a manner different from that which is common, and they have a real desire of doing something. I went with Windham to all the ministers, and asked them whether they really thought they should be obliged to adopt internal or external measures of such vigour, as might make a support, greater than that of those who generally go with ministers, necessary to them. That, if they had such measures in contemplation, we could only answer at that moment for a fair description of dispositions, but that such dis- positions to support them against the principles of France, and its power and influence, did seriously exist ; and we believed, if they, on their part, were willing to take such steps as the exigency of the time required, they might be drawn into action. They wished us to be able to speak more decisively and with more authority ; we thought we might soon be enabled to do so. We laid down as a basis, which was the result of much conversation with Lord Loughborough, and, on a full view of things, agreed with our own opinion, that no change whatsoever could be safely made in the substance of the ministry ; and that for any mixture, it was not more desirable than practicable. As to the latter, some conversations had passed relative to it ; but it was found that it could come to nothing ; and at this moment, the support given to government, to have any effect, must be freed even from the suspicion of self-interest in any of those who give it. I gave in a memorial of the state of Europe, which may be considered as a sequel of that which, with so Httle effect, I delivered before to Lord Grenville. Windham thought rather better of the conversa- tion than I did. I reported the whole to the Duke of Portland, who, without determining any thing, seemed not at all displeased with what we had done. He is gone, or will go to-morrow, to town ; where Lord Loughborough will see him. Windham is gone to Lord Fitzwilliam's. So you see, Windham and I are hunting again in couples ! I really fancy you will think all this right upon the whole, I have been melancholy, very melancholy ; CORRESPONDENCE. 133 though, on the whole, God has been pleased to enable me to bear this trying crisis of the world like a man. Windham and I jumped in one idea ; that one feels public affliction less when one makes efforts, never so hopeless, in the cause, than if one lay quite still, and was passively buffeted by the storm. It looks like a sort of fight. In these conversations, enforcing as strongly as I could the necessity of putting a stop to the progress of French arms and principles, I stated, that in order to give us vigour abroad, we ought, if possible, to assure to ourselves tranquillity at home. First, in this great question of the existence of monarchy on earth, to unite the royal family ; secondly, to unite, as much as possible, parties in England ; third, to quiet the dissensions in Ireland. This last most directly concerns you. I found them very uneasy on this head ; but it was a peevish uneasiness that I could not perceive to lead to any thing. Windham thought it was not quite so bad. The only fact I learned from these conversations was, that the report of sending several regiments to Ireland was without foundation, and that they had not given any person authority to declare that they would use the forces of this country to coerce the Catholics. This I heard from Lord Hawkesbury. I throw out to you things as they occur to me. I wish the Catholics would let alone all expressions of limitation of their views and de- signs ; they will always be taken at their word at the limitation ; at the same time, that they do not at all draw nearer the other party to grant them the poor objects which they seek by their volunteer concessions. What is it that they get by adopting at all this new idea of protestant ascendancy ? Why should they fix barriers and securities to it ? Let them leave these to their adver- saries. They have nothing to do, but to declare firmly and simply, that they have no designs whatever to alter the eccle- siastical, civil, or political establishment; but for them to state what degrees of exclusion of themselves from the benefit of citizen- ship is necessary to the security of this establishment, or that any exclusion at all is necessary, is surely not quite so well considered. I certainly, if I had all in my power, would give far more than they now ask ; but leisurely, by degrees, and portion by portion ; and this, my own settled plan of policy, I inculcate as much as I can to others. What the meeting of the third of December will do, I know not. I am rather against their making any petition to par- liament till the mediation you suggested, as covenanted in the treaty of Limerick, has been tried. This will give a dignity to your cause, and will be a more public and solemn appeal, than can be made in any other way, to the enlightened judgment of Europe ; clearing you of the supposed intentions you have of introducing the 134 CORRESPONDENCE. atheistic, sacrilegious, and bloody anarchy of France ; and showing what you do really seek, and the valid grounds on which you seek it. I think, when you are assured that your plan will be adopted, you had as good return. I see they are suspicious. God bless you ! do what you think best. Your mother's cordial blessing. Adieu ! adieu ! Your affectionate and grateful father, Edm. Bueke. Grattan and Hutchinson have been down with me for a day. They are perfectly rfght ; but they say that the ascendants are as hot as fire ; and that they who think like them ' are, in a manner, obliged to decline all society. I believe Mr. and Mrs. Grattan will come hither this week. Your mother greatly longs to see you, and, if it does not materially hurt business, that you would come to us. We have had more light about Louth. They don't like that the money they furnish for beer should be employed to cut the throats of the members. But what is this murder of Morgan ' ? The Might Hon, EdmAmd Burke to Richard Burke, Jwn., Esq. September, 1792. My dearest Eichard, As an indemnity for all your northern disappointments, I give you the satisfactory news of the complete recovery of your dear mother ; which, though we bless God, was tolerably perfect before, I did not look upon to have all its proper honours until this day, when she dined in company. Before, she had a table to herself in the breakfast room ; for, as we grew pretty numerous, I thought it better for her to dine alone. I think we shall set off for Bath next Saturday. Dr. Laurence left us yesterday. He is charmed, as we all are, with the young Keoghs. I assure you I have not seen, to my recollection, three finer boys. They are manly, steady, rational ; of extraordinary good parts, and of a' politeness of beha- viour which I have not seen at their age, but without all affectation and formality ; and we have observed many signs in them of good nature and sensibility. They are gone off this morning under the care of Dr. Laurence. Observe, this is the third, if not the fourth, letter I have directed to you to Dublin, — two under cover to Kiernan, one under cover to Mrs. Keogh. This I direct to the ' viz. Grattan and Hutchinson. * This subject is again referred to in p. 153 of this volume. CORRESPONDENCE. 135 post-office. I wrote to Mrs. Orewe at you. I wrote to you to Chester also, and to Holyhead. To-morrow I am not without hopes of hearing from you. Your man arrived yesterday, giving us the pleasing news of his having left you well at Namptwich. If we had any news, as we have none, you should have it. It is no news to you that our first and last prayers to God are for you. He loves you better than we do, and knows better than you or we do what is good for you. Your uncle is well, and the Duke of Port- land recovered of his fall. I dined on Saturday at Lord Inchi- quin's to meet Lord Ossory. He told us that Fox said to him that he is as good an aristocrat as any of us. I really do believe him to be so ; but, perhaps, do not the more excuse him. Again and again, God preserve you ! When you go into the south, go into the little houses of our few and reduced relations. It will not make two days difiference. I remember there seven houses where you could have been hospitably received. Of them, I doubt whether one remains, at least in any thing like the former condition. Our love to Therry and to all the Kiernans. Mrs. Nugent is here, and desires her love, as does our Mary. Lord Grenmlh to tlie Right Hon. Edmund Burjce. September 6, 1792. Sir, I received yesterday from our friend King a letter of yours dated the 18th ult., containing suggestions with regard to the mode of recalling our ambassadors from Paris, on account of the late trans- actions there. The points themselves which are principally adverted to in that letter, have already been decided upon ; but I feel that I ought not, on that account, to omit expressing my acknowledg- ments to you for the letter itself. In my situation, I ought always to be glad to receive the opinion of persons of knowledge, expe- rience, and ability, on points of so much delicacy and importance ; and in the manner in which you give it, I cannot but feel a just sense of the motives by which it is dictated, or of the personal attention to myself with which it is accompanied. If our sentiments do not on all points agree, I well know that we have the same object in view ; that the king^s conduct in this crisis should be such as may best tend to preserve these kingdoms from the contagion of the evils which have ruined France. I have the honour to be, sir, Your most faithful and most obedient humble servant, Gkenville. 136 COREESPONDENCE. The Bight Hon. Edmund BurJce to Mrs. Mary Leadbeater '. Beeonsfield, September 8, 1792. My deab Madam, After some tears on the truly melancholy event" of which your letter gives me the first account, I sit down to thank you for your very kind attention to me in a season of so much and so just sorrow to your- self. Certainly, my loss is not so great as yom-s, who constantly enjoyed the advantage and satisfaction of the society of such a companion, such a friend, such an instructor, and such an example ; yet I am penetrated Tsith a very sincere affliction, for my loss is great too. I am declining, or rather declined, in hfe ; and the loss of friends (at no time very reparable) is impossible to be repaired at aU, at this advanced period. His annual visit had been for some years a source of satisfaction that I cannot easily express. He had kept up the fervour of youthful affections, and his innocent vivacity and cheerfulness, which made his early days so pleasant, continued the same to the last. The strictness of his piety and virtue had nothing in it morose or austere ; and surely no hfe was better, and it is a comfort to us to add, more happily spent than his. I knew him from the boyish days when we began to love each other. His talents were great, strong, and various. There was no art or science to which they were not sufficient in the contemplative hfe, nor any employment that they would not more than adequately fill in the active. But his talents, which were not without that ambition which generally accompanies great natural endowments, were kept under by great wisdom and temperance of mind and his opinion, that the exercise of virtue was more easy, its nature more pure, and its means more certain, in the walk he chose ; yet in that, the activity and energy which formed the character of his mind, were very visible. Apparently in a private path of hfe, his spirit was public. You know how tender a father he was to his children, worthy of him by their genius and then- virtue ; yet he extended himself more widely, and devoted a great part of his time to the good of that society, of no mean extent, of which the order of the Divine Providence had made him a member. With a heart far from excluding others, he was entirely devoted to the benefit of that society, and had a zeal, very uncommon, for every thing which ' The daughter of Burke's schoolfellow Richard, and grand-daughter of his school- master Abraham Shackleton. Mrs. Leadbeater published several pieces, in prose and verse, which are much esteemed. She died in 1826. Burke's "worthy friend Abra- ham," who is mentioned by him in the latter part of this letter, is the son of Richard Shackleton. " The death of Richard Shackleton. COERESPONDENCE. 137 regarded its welfare and reputation ; and when he retired, which he did wisely and in time, from the worthy occupation which he filled in a superior manner, his time and thoughts were given to that object. He sanctified his family benevolence, his benevolence to his society, and to his friends, and to mankind, with that reference in all things to the Supreme Being, without which the best dispositions and the best teaching will make virtue, if it can be at all attained, uncertain, poor, hard, dry, cold, and comfortless. Indeed, we have had a loss ! I console myself under it, by going over the virtues of my old friend, of which I believe I am one of the earliest witnesses, and the most warm admirers and lovers. Believe me, this whole family, who have adopted my interest in my excellent, departed friend, are deeply touched with our common loss, and sympathize with you most sincerely. My son is just arrived in Dublin ; my wife is not very well, and is preparing for a journey to Bath, which I trust will re-establish her. My brother, who will hear this news with a sorrow equal to mine, is now at Cheltenham, for the benefit of those waters. Compose yourself, my dear madam, you have your work to do. Pray remember me to the gentleman I have not the honour of knowing, but whose happiness you make. Thank, for me, my worthy friend Abraham for his good-natured letter ; and beg him to consider it as answered in this. I am, with most unfeigned respect and afiection, My dear madam. Your most faithful friend and obedient humble servant, Edm. Burke. P.S. I hope you will assure my dear friend Mrs. Shackleton, the worthy wife of my late invaluable friend, that we sympathize in all she feels; and join our entreaties to yours, that she will preserve to you as much as possible of the friend and parent you have lost. Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Richard BurJce, Jun., Esq. Beconsfield, Sunday, September 9, 1792. My deauest Richard, The horrid scenes which succeed each other with such dreadful rapidity, hardly leave one ease enough of heart or clearness of head to put down any thing, even of our own afikirs, on paper to you with any tolerable coherence. However, amidst these horrors, and after reading the abominable palliation of these horrors in our abominable newspaper, as my morning''s treat, I am first to bless God that I have not the greatest of all possible domestic afflictions 138 COERESPONDENCE. to add to the effects of those public calamities on our minds. Your mother, I bless God, grows stronger and stronger. Your uncle proposes to meet us at Bath. Thence he will go to Weymouth. The Duke of Portland is well of his accident, which had near been fatal. We thank you heartily for your early letter from Dublin, which we received yesterday morning. Thank God for your good passage. We were a little uneasy from the steady prevalence of winds in the westerly quarter, which were besides, at times, very boisterous. I have no doubt that the Herculean faction, whose manoeuvres you speak of, will find the grand juries as ready an organ of their politics as they did the House of Commons. The Catholics complain of the oppression of these grand juries. The grand juries declare they wish to continue the power of oppression ; — who doubts them ? As to you, my dear Eichard, be assured, that in private conversations, in an affair of this difBculty and extent, you can do nothing. Reserve and coolness, and unwillingness to begin or continue discourses on this subject, and not too great a quickness to hear, will give the enemy a better opinion of your discretion, and make them respect you the more. Besides, by leaving them to themselves, they will be less heated with contro- versy, and disposed to think more dispassionately upon the subject. Your mind you will open to your confidential friends in the com- mittee, — there it is necessary ; and that restraint which is prudence with enemies, is treachery with friends. What degree of temperate and steady firmness you may find amongst them, I know not. But every thing wiU depend upon that combination, — that is, the com- bination of perseverance with coolness, and great choice in measures. You cannot too often inculcate to your chief friends, that this affair is of such a nature, that it cannot possibly be the work of a single day, or of a single act. The web has been too long weaving to be unravelled in an instant. No evils, but much good would happen, if it were so unravelled. But that is hardly to be expected without some event which we cannot produce, and would not produce if we could ; — such as the American war and its issue, which brought on ideas of Irish independence, and these again the necessity of con- ciliating the Catholics. This hastened their relief to the point in which it stands by many years. The petition to the king I hold an essential •preliminary ; for any further application to parhament, (whither, to be sure, you must come at last,) until the mind of government and the pubHc in both kingdoms is better prepared than now it is, is to throw away prematurely your last resource. It is a jest to apply to the House of Commons. It would only subject the people to a renewal of the former outrages, and harden the enemy in his oppressive temper and principle. As to the rest, for CORRESPONDENCE. 139 God's sake, when you see any of the Castle people, oppose a little prudent dissimulation to their fraud. There is no danger that you will carry it too far. As to your own friends, you will soon see how they are disposed to the petition, and to a series of connected mea- sures. A fire, and away, will never do. But whatever their dispositions may be, do not you press any thing upon them beyond their power of bearing it ; and above all, do not form any sort of rash resolution, let their behaviour be what it will. Nothing but temper can keep them or you together, or conduct this long business to a desirable end. Don't think this advice to come from an opinion you are likely to fail in this point. Your temper and self-command, thank God, are much better than mine are, or ever have been. I say nothing of the affairs of France, though they are never a moment absent from my mind. Oh God ! They do not suffer any thing else to occupy it. What scenes ! And what will be the end of them ? All agree that they have not, probably, murdered fewer than seven thousand in this last massacre. As for that admirable and heroic clergy, who had devoted themselves to the fury of their robbers ; — that order begins to fly hither in great numbers every day. The Bishop of St. Pol supports them to a miracle by his exertions. A general subscription is become necessary, and I flatter myself it will do. I have put down but twenty ; but Metcalf, who was here, generously put his name down for a hundred ; Col. Ironside for fifty ; Lord Inchiquin twenty ; and our good parsonage, five guineas. So the bishop has got, by his visit here, nearly two hundred. We have already about five hundred and sixty mouths to maintain. It is plain that the abandoned gang in France put their whole trust in the pledge in their hands, and draw out for murder a certain number of victims proportioned to the advances of the Duke of Brunswick ; and here, the infernal faction applaud their policy. We are going to set off with the promise of a reason- able April day. God bless and preserve you now and ever ! Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Lord Grenville. Bath, September 19, 1792. My Loud, I am to acknowledge, with my best thanks, the honour of your lordship's letter of the 6th. I ought to be the more sensible of this mark of your polite attention, because, in submitting to your lord- ship's judgment my weak and crude sentiments upon an important subject, I did not desire or expect an answer. The fact is, (and I 140 CORRESPONDENCE. am afraid it is but too visible,) I wrote the letter in some haste, and under some agitation, the effect of the extraordinary events of the 10th of August, which made, (though far from unexpected,) as they and their consequences do still make, no slight impression upon my mind. But, recollecting that there was little in what I then wrote which I had not suggested before in a discussion of the pro- bable effect of the French revolution upon the whole of Europe, written at the close of the year 1791 ; that this paper had been communicated to your lordship, and that it did not meet your ideas, I resolved not to send my letter. It lay by me until, on some conversation in a meeting, merely accidental, with our common friend Mr. King, I showed to him what I had hastily thrown down, on what I thought a most melancholy state of things. He seemed rather to wish it to be communicated to your lordship, and so I sent it, as I recollect, without even the formality of a direction. I know very well the determination of this court with regard to the neutrality. But I humbly conceived, that, even on that deter- mination, the declaration had been made sufficiently ; and that, under the circumstances, a frequent and affected renewal of the same assurance might be considered by the regicide faction in France as amounting to an encouragement to proceed to the final execution of its designs on their unhappy prisoner, as well as to continue to affront his majesty, our sovereign, by never referring to him, but to the English nation, as a body separate and distinct, and, in its intercourse with foreign powers, not fully represented by the crown. This, since the removal of Lord Gower, they have done. Our object, as your lordship very truly observes, is the same ; namely, the prevention of the prevalence of those principles in this country. But it is my misfortune that I have very different ideas on the mode of compassing our common end. I am very ready to allow that I ought to entertain them with the greatest diffidence myself, and that they ought to have the less comparative weight with others, that I am not officially responsible for their effects. Whatever weight they may have, most certainly the object of them, the French business, is no hght or trivial thing, or such as is commonly occurring in the course of political events. At present, the whole political state of Europe hinges upon it. On the Conti- nent, there is little doubt every thing will take its future shape and colour from the good or ill success of the Duke of Brunswick. In my opinion, it is the most important crisis that ever existed in the world. I know it is the opinion of his majesty's ministers, that the new principles may be encouraged, and even triumph over every interior and exterior resistance, and may even overturn other states CORRESPONDENCE. 141 as they have that of France, without any sort of danger of their extending in their consequences to this kingdom. My poor opinion is, that these principles, considering their quality, and the means by which they are supported, cannot possibly be realized in practice in France, without an absolute certainty, and that at no remote period, of overturning the whole fabric of the British constitution. On that head, however, I do not mean to trouble your lordship any further. My sense of a very urgent, certainly a most unpleasant duty, may lead me, if I can obtain a hearing, to a full explanation of my sentiments in my place. I do not expect the good fortune of the coincidence of any of the king's ministers. But if I may seem (a thing which I assure you gives me a heartfelt concern) to differ with them, they will be amply indemnified by the support of many, and some of them even of the most brilliant abilities in the House and in the kingdom. I have the honour, &c. Edm. Bueke. TTie Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Richard BurJce, Jun., Esq. London, 1792 i. My dear Eichaed, You will receive by the hand of a friend, if you have not received it already, a very full letter from me, in addition to the first two which you acknowledge. I am now in town, trying to take my little part in measures which may quiet the unhappy divisions of the country, and enable it to make head against the common enemy of the human race. To do any good, there ought to be a general cessa- tion, as much as may be, of all public and all private animosities ; and first, the royal family, in my poor opinion, in this question of the very existence of monarchy (as a basis), ought to be reconciled within itself. The next is, that the opposition should be recon- ciled to the ministry ; and that, for that purpose, its dissonant parts should be brought to some agreement if possible ; if not, that the well-intentioned should be separated from the contagion and distraction attendant upon an apparent connexion with those, who, under the false cover of a common party, are as completely sepa- rated in views and in opinions, as the most adverse factions ever have been or can be. That there should be a reconciliation be- ' This letter should prohahly be dated 29th or 30th September, 1792. The letters alluded to in this are mentioned in E. B.'s letter to his son, dated September, 1792 ; and in his letter of the 1st October, he says he left Bath for London on the 27tli Sep- tember. 142 CORRESPONDENCE. tween the Catholics and Protestants in Ireland. This last I hold to be the most essential part of the whole plan. I agree with you heartily, that every hour of delay in this reconciliation puts the execution of so proper and necessary a measure at a distance of years. Will the consideration of what they do, call upon their whole stock of philosophy I I am convinced that folly alone cannot wholly ruin an established empire. Cunning must come to its aid. Amongst the poor devices of this sure and natural ally of absurdity, is the scheme you talk of, but which will hardly take place, of bribing the Cathohc clergy, by giving to them some share in the establishment of the Church, and letting them into a partnership in the odium attendant upon tithes. You observe very rightly, that this would be the destruction of all religion whatsoever ; and when that is destroyed, nothing can be saved, or is worth saving. You say right too, the scheme, taken by itself, is a piece of just and prudent arrangement. I have often recommended it, but for a very different purpose. Many things done from principles of jus- tice, produce in their secondary consequences excellent effects of policy; and for low tricking purposes, 'produce the very direct reverse. As a piece of mere substantive ecclesiastical and civil arrangement, if the ecclesiastical estate was put on a more rea- sonable and durable basis, this would be wise. In future, some- thing of the kind perhaps will be thought necessary. But this is evidently a part of the plan of low cunning, by which they hoped first to divide the laity amongst themselves : — This is, to divide the clergy from the laity. Both will be equally vain in the issue, and mischievous in the attempt. They never will prevail on the laity to take this bribe to the clergy, as a substitute for the essential privileges of subjects refused to them. A clergy known to be creatures of the Castle, and, in a manner, avowedly bribed for the purpose of enslaving their flocks, (the bribe, too, taken out of the bowels of their own poor,) this clergy would lose, and that, in the twinkling of an eye, the little remains of influence which they yet retain. Gentlemen who caU themselves Protestants, (I do not well know what that word means, and nobody ever would or could inform me,) are dupes of their own calumnious representations, which serve to mislead them, and irritate those against whom they are made. In order to render the Catholics contemptible, they have ever represented them as men, in all cases incapable of form- ing any ideas or opinions, or even wishes of their own ; but that their bodies and souls were at the entire disposal of their priests. These miserable creatures, the zealots of the ascendancy, have been fed with this stuff as their nurse's pap, and it is never to be got out of their habit. Their low and senseless malice makes them CORRESPONDENCE. 143 utterly incapable of forming a right judgment on any thing. Such is their notion. But I, who know the Catholics of Ireland better than these gentlemen who never have conversed with them, and who, of course, are more ignorant of the real state of their own country than that of Japan, know that at no time within my obser- vation have the Catholic clergy had a great deal of influence over the Catholic people. I have never known an instance, (until a few of them were called into action by the manceuvres of the Castle,) that in secular concerns they took any part at all. It is different from the time when the clergy were formed of the first and most accredited nobility of the kingdom, which they continued to be long after the reformation had taken place in England. At present, being stripped of all adventitious aids, and having nothing but the mere credit belonging to them, I think that, though not wholly with- out influence, (and God forbid they or any clergy should,) they have rather less than any other clergy I know. You and I have talked over this matter. To those who are acquainted with the prescript form to which the Church of Rome binds its clergy, both as to opinions and the exercise of their functions, (which dogmas, forms, and rules, are just as well known to laity as to priests,) it will easily appear that they have not that range of influence which doctors have, who can teach just what they please, and what they think is most likely, for the time being, to be acceptable and to gain the people. No Roman Catholic priest can make a pleasing discovery to his congregation. He and his congregation are bound by the authority of their whole Church in all times and in all coun- tries, whose general and collective authority infinitely lessens the individual authority of every private pastor, as the strictness of other laws lessens the power of individual magistrates. Whereas, most of us ', who examine critically, full as little as any of them, and for the greater part think less about it, and are indeed inca- pable of doing so, we do and must receive our doctrine from our priest, who himself is not bound up to any thing beyond his own ideas ; and consequently the mass of us depend more upon the individual pastor. Whether I am right in the theory or not, this I know, that the fact is as I state it. A Catholic goes to con- fession. The Church of England thinks it a commendable prac- tice, but does not practise it. The Papist thinks it a sacrament, and that he must practise it. Therefore, when he does it, he does it by a table which any man can buy for sixpence ; and he is well apprised, that, if he performs the common conditions, which he knows as well as his parish minister (bating some trifling observ- ' viz. ua Protestants. 144 CORRESPONDENCE. anees more or less,) he must have his absolution whether the priest will or not, or he has matter of charge against him. It is so of all the sacraments and other ritual observances. Accordingly, I believe there is no penitent in Ireland who would not laugh his priest to scorn, if, sitting in the confession-box, instead of interro- gating him on the seven deadly sins, he was to say a word to him on this topic, or of the election, or any political topic whatsoever. There are too many ' (a million, or thereabouts,) in Ireland, who could hardly keep the secret. If it were even possible to be other- wise, I would much sooner give credit to any one of them speaking of what he knows, than to a million of others who can dare to afiSrm what they cannot know at all, and therefore do not scruple to hazard (at least) a lie. As to their sermons and exhortations, they are public, and every one may know what they are. My inference from the matter is this ; — that if the Castle ascendancy could bribe the whole body of the Roman Catholic clergy (a thing not very likely) into a treacherous conduct towards three millions of their laity, — that not any thing else would result from it than this, that they would never attend on the ministry of one of these corrupt and silly creatures. They would call them the Castleick clergy. They would have other priests ; and though this might add a little to the confusions of the country and to the public expenses, (the great object next to the job, to which they have reduced the public interests,) they might be sure it would not lessen by one the number of those who contend for justice on the tenor of the good old common-law of England, and the principles of the English constitution, and who bear impatiently, as impatiently they ought to bear, the yoke of late prostitute acts of an innovating parliament, made within the memory of some yet living, in derogation of the wisdom, spirit, virtue, and a long line of honour, of the brave ancestors of all the parties, as well as by an insolent violation of public faith, from one of the parties to the other. Alas ! these poor creatures are rendered impotent by their ability, and misled and blinded by their very experience. They are shop-keepers, hucksters, and dealers in retail. They are infinitely expert in the mode of gaining individuals, and at con- triving, with the greatest waste of the human faculties, to obtain the concurrence of others to make a further waste of them. But, for want of ever dealing in the great, they do not know, that, though multitudes may be deluded, they never can be bribed. Their leaders may be bought once, — perhaps twice, but never more. The third time they will not be worth the bribe. But the question is not, as the hucksters j)i ascendancy think, of dealing ^ Meaning, probably, persons in the habit of confessing to the priest. CORRESPONDENCE. 145 with a credulous mob, soon inflamed, soon extinguished. No such thing, as you know as well as I. The igneous fluid has its lodging in a solid mass. There are persons amongst the Catholics of Ireland of deep thought, keen sagacity, and sound understanding ; and those not a few. There are successions of them. If one is bought off", twenty will come on. You have read the discourses at the last Dublin meeting. I don't subscribe to every word in them, no more than to what I hear in parliamentary debates, where I approve the main matter ; but this, I say, that in no parliamentary discussion have I ever heard a topic better handled. I doubt whether, on that subject, man's faculties can go beyond it. Do they think that such men can be cheated by their poor little transparent threads ? The Right Hon. Edmund Bwrjce to Richard Burke, Jun., Esq. London, October 1, 1792. Mr DEAREST RiCHAKD, It was with true satisfaction that we received at Bath your letter from Cork. God Almighty bless you, and direct you in the course you are to take. In it you will neither be governed by a timidity which would enervate you in the execution of your duty, nor by a rashness and heat which would do still more injury in another way. As to your clients, in my opinion, as long as they keep them- selves firm to the solid ground of the British constitution, they are safe for the present, and must be successful ; but if they suffer any mistaken theorists to carry them into any thing like the prin- ciples adopted in France, they will not only be baffled, but baffled with shame. If they have received the fire of the grand juries with a good countenance, I shall hope every thing will go on well. If they are frightened, you may be quite certain that their enemies will fall upon them in that situation, and show them no mercy. They are to look for the renovation of forged conspi- racies, judicial murders, and all the horrors of the period from 1761 to 1766. The great instrument of all their oppression is whetting ; — I mean the grand juries. It was really three days before I could thoroughly quiet the emotions of indignation, horror, and contempt, which were excited in my mind by that infamous libel, the presentment (or whatever it may be called) of the grand jury of the county of Louth ; that is, Mr. Foster's declara- tion of war. I had begun a letter to Edward Byrne upon it. Whether it will ever be sent, will depend on circumstances. Now as to other matters. First, I am to tell you, with a heart I hope VOL. II. I- 146 CORRESPONDENCE. full of gratitude to God, that your mother advances in her recovery as fast as we can expect, and that when I heard from Bath, which I left last Thursday (27th Sept.), no accounts could be better; indeed, her strength, so far as the terrible weather we have had would permit, was getting ground every day, almost since her arrival at that place. You will wish to know what has brought me from it. The Duke of Portland, whom I saw at Bath, is to have a private installation at Bulstrode, to which I am invited, and could not refuse. Since I must make a journey, I thought it best for me to get here, rather before than after the installation, since things in the committee for the refugees were not going on at aU as I wished. Their plan is wrong ; but that is unalterable. However, we go on, as to the money, very tolerably for the time. The Duke of Portland came forward very handsomely. Lord Fitz- william was the eariiest of all ; and he has doubled his £1 00 subscription. The Archbishop of Canterbury has behaved hand- somely too. About d&^GOQ is subscribed, of which we have spent but £1600 ; but the mouths are numerous indeed. All, however, do not call for assistance. Here are seventeen archbishops and bishops, about two thousand clergy, or not much less. In Jersey are five thousand refugees, of which two thousand are priests; yet we do not despair. The ministers will subscribe this week. The newspapers of heU are doing their business diligently, and do all they can to stir up the mob. I don't at all like the spirit of the combined powers. I think I see much, not of mercy, but of De Mercy in it. I am sure he guides all. Oalonne is here, but I have not yet seen him. Adieu ! my ever dear Richard. May that G-od whom you serve in simplicity of heart, take care of you always ! JiigAi Hon. Edmund BurTce to Richard BurJce, Jun., Esq. Bath, October 17, 1792. My ever deab, Richaed, Thanks for your second letter from Cork. You are well, I trust in God you are ; your mother continues uniformly to mend. You both are well, and all is well with us, and so far as concerns us, directly and domestically. Every thing else is quite in a different condition. The horizon, which was covered with a thick darkness, has cleared up ; but it discovers nothing but the most deplorable scenes. The united military glory of Europe has suffered a stain never to be effaced. The Prussian and Austrian combined forces have fled before a troop of stroUing-players, with a buffoon at their head. Savoy, Nice, &c., are occupied without a blow. Whilst COREESPONDENCE. 147 the Duke of Brunswick flies out of Prance, the whole course of the Ehine js ravaged. The empire is left exposed on all parts. The Netherlands are not much better off, internally or externally. Their mountains will not protect the Swiss. A French fleet is preparing which will domineer in the Mediterranean without resist- ance. In short, vigour and decision, though joined with crime, folly, and madness, have triumphed, as they always will triumph, over puzzled politics and unsteady irresolute councils. We have seen a German prince, and a Prussian commander, distrust their military power, and put their confidence in negotiation. They are cheated in their negotiations, and the folly of their negotiations defeats their arms. They have now changed their whole plan, and are resolved to act on the defensive, by a combination formed of all the discordant interests in Europe. They revert to their old plan of a congress. De Mercy and Breteuil are at the head of this hopeful scheme. We add our nothing to their inanity. They propose that all Europe shall form a cordon to hedge in the cuckoo. They are to form a defensive alliance to hinder the propagation of Prench principles ! Well, of the two madnesses, the madness of the Prench rabble is the more noble ! An alliance, of which the casus fcederis is, sophistic maxims ! a league of princes against bad syllogisms ! " I am weary of conjectures" — but do not mean to end them Oatonically. In truth, I have been, as you will imagine, in a state of anxiety as great as could be, whilst events were depending ; but since the afiair is desperate, or at least appears so, I feel myself much more easy. I am not, however, without afflic- tion for the state of the poor Prench refugees. The Duke of Brunswick never consulted them, yet all the blame is thrown upon them. When he resolved to evacuate Prance, he ordered them into Luxembourg, and then removed, or rather drove, them into Limbourg, not as quarters, but as a place where they might have refuge. A hundred to one but they are attacked there. If I were to venture a speculation on all this, some stipulation is made with Dumourier for the personal security of the King of Prance, so far as such a man, in such a government, can make an engagement. That then the Prench, having honourably cleared their country, will offer peace, which will be accepted. Their republic wiU be recognized, and an alliance made to prevent the contagion of opinions. The baseness and foUy of this scheme do not make it in the least improbable. I fear much that the King of Sardinia's dominions in Italy are agitated by some internal troubles. The Prince of Cond6, when he wrote last to some of his friends in England, considered Dumourier's army as prisoners. The Duke of Brunswick's military manoeuvres are allowed to be judicious, L 2 148 CORRESPONDENCE. and even masterly ; and he had certainly the French completely in his power, when he entered into the negotiation. There are those here who know his serene highness very well. They say he is a soldier by character, nature, and education, but that he is an intriguer by taste. He values himself on his talents in that way ; in which, however, he will be led by De Mercy as he has been duped by Dumourier, who is a veteran intriguer ; having been employed by the inner cabinet of Louis the Fifteenth, as a spy on Broglio in the war of Germany, and a secret negotiator in the courts there. There Is something above us in all this. You are in Ireland, and you can get the O'Brien motto translated : — " Laire laidir en ougUerr Or I will do it ; — " The lloody hand on highP I hked what I was saying to Byrne. Of course I should only send it through you. But this French business puts every thing by. Lord Inchiquin, likewise, found work enough for me. He is perfectly discontented, and throws all blame on me. To this add, that Shore * goes out governor-general. You know how I repre- sented him at the bar of the House of Lords. I protested against his appointment at the India House. I could not do otherwise, without disgracing the prosecution. We must do right, and do it simply and rigorously, and trust to Providence for the rest. I remonstrated to Dundas ; I could not see him in London, so wrote to him. He is now in Scotland. I am glad to find I coincided in opinion with you. To petition the king is as right, and that word for word, as you conceive it, as to petition parliament in its present temper would be foolish. This might be declared in some firm, modest, and temperate mode, in the style of lamentation. What you say of the friendly Pro- testants, is of more importance than all the rest; both, in my opinion, for the credit of their body, as for the advantage of your clients. I long much to talk to you on this subject ; but it is more important that you should be where you are. Is it possible that the bar could be got to declare any thing useful in any tolerable numbers ? Your adversaries are very busy every where, and have filled the minds of the people with the idea of a rebellion of the Roman Catholics ready to break out. You cannot conceive the activity of these low wretches, nor their success. Adieu ! my ever dear son. I am called away. Your mother, uncle, and Mary embrace you. Mrs. Nugent has just left us, and is perfectly well. I see Dr. Moylan every day, and an excellent man he is. Your afifectionate father, Edm. Burke. ' Afterwards Lord Teignmouth. CORRESPONDENCE. 149 The Right Hon. Edmund BurJce to Richard BurJce, Jun., Esq. November 2, 1792. My very deau Son, I shall say little to you on the subject which now fills Eiu-ope with consternation and perplexity, because it is not easy to think on it with patience, to speak on it with temper, or to form any sort of clear and precise judgment on the true causes of an event which has nothing to match it, or in the least to resemble it, in history. There is certainly treachery, or a degree of madness and folly, that is wholly without example. My heart bleeds for the poor emi- grants, whose case is truly deplorable, and now without hope, at least, according to all appearances. Let us turn our thoughts to another part of this business, which is somewhat more cheering. The subscription for the French clergy goes on, at least as well as could be expected. Hitherto, it has not in the least languished, and Walker King, who is the soul of it, thinks it will rise to £20,000 before Christmas. However, when I consider the num- bers to be maintained, which by that time we must reckon, here and in Jersey, to amount at least to two thousand, I confess I am frightened about the event. For, cool upon that subject the public must at last, as government gives it neither aid nor even countenance. The horrors of the 2nd of September excited the public compassion, and roused its indignation. Government might have taken advantage, most politically as well as charitably, of that temper, and have exalted the temper of the public to what height it pleased upon that subject, and alienated the people for ever from the French principles and partisans. They took rather the contrary course. On full consideration of the matter, I think their re-entry into France as desperate ; and that, therefore, whilst we have J" 10,000 in hand more than we have an imme- diate demand for, we ought to think of making some permanent establishment for them. The ^10,000, if we can avoid break- ing in upon it, would do this perfectly. I see no place for them but America, nor any better place in America than Maryland ; already much of a Catholic colony, and where that church already has a good estate. There they might make two or three con- vents, and live according to some rule, cultivating the land with their own hands, and the help of a few slaves, and in a little time they would be at their ease. I ventured to tell one of them that you would make them a grant of a sufficient quantity of your land in the Isle of St. John's. This would be good both for them and you. On recollection, the place is too cold and too poor for 150 CORRESPONDENCE. them. When I say I proposed it to one of them, I am incorrect. I only spoke of it as a speculation to Dr. Moylan. But I must confess, if they hke it, I should be glad you had them, for though they are a populus virorum, and must soon wear out, yet they would for some time be sufficiently recruited, and their settlement would draw many others to them, as such monasteries have always done, and must do. Now, since I talk of St. John's, do not forget it whilst you are in Ireland. The last we received from you was from Killarney. I am glad you like the water and mountains, though the owner was as shabby as they are noble. He is resolved to preserve a perfect con- sistency in his folly and meanness. Poor Moylan, who is his friend, I saw was afraid to ask one question about your reception. You cannot think how Bishop Moylan is liked here. Mary French had a letter from Mrs. Carey, in which she tells me you have made up the vexatious and ridiculous quarrel amongst my contemporary old women. You have done well and benevolently, and like yoiu-self. You have had terrible weather for the Blackwater. God send you have not got cold. The fords must have been impassable in those floods. I trust in Grod this will find you safe and well in Dublin. Here lies the stress of your business. If they hold, in their conduct, to the strain and tenor of the Waterford and Tip- perary papers, and to those of Galway and Louth, better they can- not do. I hope that they are not so weak as to suffer themselves to imagine that you or I are playing any politic game with regard to them. We have no connexion of interest with either ministry or opposition here ; and I think you have shown that you do not mean to pay court to the ministry in Ireland at their expense. I am sure I do not pretend to know Ireland as well as they ; but I think I know England as well as most people, or I have lived long to little purpose. The sentiments of the nation must finally decide the dispute between them and the jobbing ascendancy. If they are not sensible of it, their enemies are ; and there is no degree of pains which they do not take to prejudice people here against them. Now I am clear, that every thing they do which has a tendency to show in them any leaning to the French principles, must and does alienate the people here from them ; which, give me leave to assure them, must do mischief to them and their cause. You see that Foster, in the Louth resolutions, (upon the subject upon which I meant to write,) endeavours to alarm government with an idea that they mean a separation from England. He is well aware that nothing could hurt them more ; and the advice, full of fidehty and cordiahty, which I give them, with a view to them and their interest solely, is, that they will keep every act and COERESPONDENCE. 151 word which can be construed to imply that intention at the utmost distance. The papers of the Society of United Irishmen are rational, manly, and proper, in every other respect but this. These gentlemen, so right in every thing else, have in this respect ob- tained very strange information. They think that the conduct of the Castle is the result of directions from hence, and that here they do nothing but plot some mischief against Ireland. Alas ! I wish they could be got seriously, and with a ruhng spirit, to think of it at all. But things move in the reverse order from what they imagine. They think that ministers here instruct the Castle, and that the Castle sets the jobbing ascendancy in motion ; whereas, it is now wholly, and has, ever since I remember, been, for the greater part, the direct contrary. The junto in Ireland entirely governs the Castle ; the Castle, by its representations of the country, governs the ministers here. So that the whole evil has always originated, and does still originate, amongst ourselves. I could enter further into this ; but if they do not take my word for it, I am sorry for it. Many arguments would only weaken what I take to be an evident truth. They ought to peti- tion the king ; not so much for the sake of the petition itself, though it is no contemptible object, as for the impression it will make here. I have, since I wrote the above, had your letter. I am glad you found yourself pleased with the country which has given me my first and my most lasting impressions of a country life. Alas ! all my early friends there are dead, and have left very few traces behind them. Your mother, I bless God for it, has got great benefit from these waters. Every blessing attend you. I am ever, my dear Eichard, Your affectionate father, Edm. Bue-kk. Ought I to write to any one in Cork, to thank them for their civilities to you ? Do you call on Hutchinson, and thank him for us both. I am sure you were not the worse off at Cork for him. The Bight Hon. Eeniiltimatum, and that leads to the beginning of a negotiation. The plan of the Directory is clear. Without committing them- selves, they wish to get from us what they propose in favour of the emperor. In the mean time, they are courting him as much as they insult us, and will offer him alone as much or more as we shall propose to stipulate for him. They can carve up Italy and Ger- many too for him, if they can at any price bribe him to a separate peace. I am not sure but they would, if pushed, restore him all the Netherlands, or all but a strip of coast to connect themselves with Holland, in order to try the question with us alone respecting the latter country. If they can any how, they will make a separate peace with the emperor ; and then they will risk gaining a loss, in attempting an invasion of Great Britain or Ireland. Otherwise, I do not think they have any serious intention of it. The bills will probably create more and more dissatisfaction as they will appear unnecessary. I have not heard from Lord F. for some time. I hope you will have a letter if I have not, before I see you on Sunday. Remember me to Mrs. Burke. God bless you both ! Believe me, dear sir, Ever gratefully and affectionately yours, FUENCH LaUEENCE. P.S. — I scrawl in the midst of noise and confusion about captors and captured in the court of appeals. Once more, God bless you ! Second P.S. — On my return home I found a letter from Lord F., who approves my opinions on Irish affairs. I am, therefore, doubly satisfied that they are in general correct. He does not say a word of coming to town, or taking any public part in the question intended by Mr. Fox. He thinks the forced loan will never go down in the House wdth the country gentlemen. With regard to the Quakers' bill, his opinion is, " that if our society takes the matter up professionally, I should compliment the ' esprit de corps'" with my support." What you tell me of Mrs. Crewe's note, amuses and afflicts, without surprising me. 334 CORRESPONDENCE. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Dr. Laurence. Beoonsfield, Wednesday morning, 11 o'clock, Nov. 1796. My dear Laurence, I have had a bad night, and am very faint and feeble. I do not know where the abstract you mention is in the chaos of my papers, but if I get a httle stronger this day I shall look for it ; but I send you the printed papers, which Nagle has just found. You know that the far greater and the most oppressive part of those laws has been repealed. The only remaining grievance which the Catholics suffer from the law consists in certain incapacities relative to franchises. The ill-will of the governing powers is their great grievance, who do not suffer them to have the benefit of those capacities to which they are restored, nominally, by the law. The franchises which they desire are to remove the stigma from them which is not branded on any description whatever of dissenters in Ireland, who take no test and are subject to no incapacity ; though they [are] of the old long established religion of the country, and who cannot be accused of perverseness or any factious purpose in their opi- nions, since they remain only where they have always been, and are the far greater majority of the inhabitants. They give as good proofs of their loyalty and affection to government, at least as any other people. Tests have been contrived for them to purge them from any suspicious political principles, supposed to have some connexion with their religion. These tests they take; whereas the persons called Protestants, which Protestantism, as things stand, is no description of a religion at all, or of any principle, religious, moral, or political, but is a mere negation, take no test at all. So that here is a persecution, as far as it goes, of the only people in Ireland, who make any positive profession of the Chris- tian faith ; for even the clergy of the established church do not sign the Thirty-nine Articles. The heavy load that lies upon them is that they are treated Uke enemies, and as long as they are under any incapacities, their persecutors are furnished with a legal pre- tence of scourging them upon all occasions, and they never fail to make use of it. If this stigma were taken off, and that, like their other fellow-citizens, they were to be judged by their conduct, it would go a great way in giving quiet to the country. The fear that if they had capacities to sit in parliament they might become the majority and persecute in their turn, is a most impudent and flagitious pretence, which those, who make use of it, know to be false. They could not at this day get three members out of the three hundred, and never can have the least probability from circum- CORRESPONDENCE. 335 stances of becoming the tenth part of the representatives, even though the boroughs made in the time of James I. for the destruc- tion of the then natural interests of the country should be reformed upon any plan vs^hich has as yet been proposed, because the natural interests have been varied and the property changed since the time of King James I. At present the chief oppression consists in the abuse which is made by the powers of executive government, which may more effectually harass an obnoxious people, than even ad- verse laws themselves. I do not know whether you are apprized of all the proceedings in the county of Armagh, particularly of the massacres that have been perpetrated on the Catholic inhabitants of that county, with no punishment and hardly any discountenance of government. All this however is a matter of very nice handling in a British parliament, on account of the jealous independence of that county. Neither the court nor the opposition party I am afraid would relish it, especially as they pretend or may pretend that the subject is to become a matter of their own inquiry. I have written my mind fully upon this subject to Lord Fitzwilliara, but I have had yet no answer, nor, indeed, hardly could. The Jacobin opposition take this up to promote sedition in Ireland; and the Jacobin ministry will make use of it to countenance tyranny in the same place. As to George Ellis and Lord Malmesbury, the Jupiter and his Mercury, I don't care whether they are in the clouds or in the dung ; but one thing I see very clearly, that nothing above or below will prevent the ministers from going through their dirty work. What has been written as argument or observation has had no answer, but it makes no impression, unless perhaps to confirm some people in the obstinacy of their meanness. Do you know that Mr. Crewe has wrote that the Duke of Portland pei-fectly approves every thing in the pamphlet, and yet he has done every thing or concurred in every thing in diametrical opposition to his principles. He will do so in every thing that can be proposed of the same nature. What think you of their finding no one but General Luttrell to whom the safety of Ireland could be committed at this crisis ? All this must have passed through the Duke of Portland, who thinks one way, and who acts or is acted upon in the direct contrary way. I am very sick of all these things. As you know Keogh, I think there is no objection to your seeing him, if you can contrive it. I do not know how you approve my answer to him, but I am sure he does not, by making no sort of reply to me. You will write to Mr. Wilde, and let him know that I have been very ill from time to time, and that you have informed me of 336 CORRESPONDENCE. his inquiry, and that I am much obliged to him for his solicitude about me. The terms prescribed by the thieves of the Directory to the Pope are what might be expected. He cannot help it, being intrinsically weak in himself, and we have refused to put him in a better condition, for fear of the statute of premunire ; and our fleet has thought proper to fly out of the Mediterranean, and to evacuate all the strongholds we had in that part of the world — I think [we make] a more * * * figure than the Pope. In proportion to the strength of body which is enervated by meanness of spirit—" Oh, impotence of mind in body strong." — The parcel waits — God bless you. If you can [get] BoUingbrooke's Abridgment of the Irish Statutes, which is extremely well done, you will see the materials upon which I went in the abstract of the old popery laws, which I gave to the D of P on his going Lord L to Ireland. My poor Richard had a complete copy, which he put into the hands of the committee, with such alterations and additions as they thought proper. Adieu. — Mrs. Burke has had a bad night as well as myself. Dr. Brocklesby has been here and is gone. Parochial news we have none. Yours ever, Edmund Burke. Br. Hussey to the Right Hon. Edmund BurTce. Royal College, Maynooth, November 30, 1796. My dear Sir, In the midst of all your cares and anxieties for the public good, you will permit an old friend, and a very sincere one, to break in for a moment upon you, and to give you some account of myself, and hint a little at what passes around me. The first I owe to your friend- ship, the second to your patriotism. The thoughts, as they arise in my mind, shall descend upon this paper, which I shall neither transcribe nor correct. You are acquainted with all the particulars relative to my journey to this country. I gave you my own ideas upon it with that frank- ness and candour natural to me. Though conscious of my own loyal and royal principles, I dreaded the journey, from the know- ledge I already had of this country. Upon my arrival, I was treated with great civility by the viceroy and his secretary; at least with as much civility as a gentleman is entitled to. In my conversations with each, in private, I spoke my sentiments without CORRESPONDENCE. 337 any reserve. The following week I hastened down to the favourite spot, this '■'■ punclnm saliens" of the salvation of Ireland from Jaco- binism and anarchy. I found it advancing, in every respect, even beyond my expectations. But alas ! I was soon assailed by letters from various parts of the kingdom, complaining of the violence made use of in compelling the Catholic military^, who had enlisted with the explicit promise, or at least with the expectation, that nothing would be required of them contrary to their religious tenets. I returned immediately to Dublin, endeavoured to obtain a con- versation with the viceroy or with his secretary, but they were too busy in settling their bargains with the orators of College Green, about the affairs of this world, to hear a man who came to speak to them about affairs which, they imagine, can only regard the world to come. The violence to the military became, in the mean time, not only a matter of notoriety, but of pubUc complaint from some Catholic noblemen and gentlemen who hold commissions in the army. When the matter was spoken of in my presence, I ex- pressed my strong abhorrence ; and this, forsooth, gave offence at the Castle, and even our gentle friend, the secretary-at-war', told me, that Mr. Pelham felt himself much hurt at the opinions I uttered upon this subject. Only consider, my dear sir, the abject wretchedness of a country, where a man is blamed for expressing his indignation at the view of the worst of all oppressions ! In the mean time, applications were made to me from several military corps, to know what advice I would give them. I felt myself between the two evils, of oppression or Jacobinism. You know my principles too well to be ignorant of the choice which I would make. I exhorted the soldiers to patience, and promised that steps would be taken to remove the grievance. 1 then drew up a sketch of a pastoral letter, in strong terms ; but before I would publish it, I sent it in to Mr. Pelham by his secre- tary, for Mr. Pelham was surrounded by the College Green bargain- makers, and I could not see him. The sketch, however, was kept, nor did I hear a word from the Castle ; neither did I go near it since that day, now more than two months ago. But this ungentle- man-like treatment is not what grieves me most ;— -but the soldiers finding no general redress, have, I am given to understand, formed associations in the camps to redress themselves ; and, in a country not remarkable for military discipline, where this evil wiU end. Heaven only knows. Even if France had not given warning how dangerous it is for any state to make religion a matter of indiffer- ^ The wTiter should have added here, " to attend places of Protestant worship." 2 William Elliot, Esq., afterwards the Right Hon. William Elliot, M.P. for Peter- borough. He died in 1818. VOL. ir. ^ 338 CORRESPONDENCE. ence, surely no man would conclude that in proportion to a soldier's want of religion, he will be faithful and loyal to his king ; or that, in proportion as the soldier is compelled to act the hypocrite, in frequenting a place of worship contrary to his conscience, he will be proportionably brave in the king's service. Hypocrisy and cowardice are natural companions. Who can see, without indigna/- tion, a man in a military garb, the garb of manly courage and candour, with downcast head and arms, whipped like a quadruped to a hostile church by a little tyrannizing officer, who neither fears God himself, nor,' perhaps, believes in Him I And this is the return he makes to the king for his uniform, his commission, and his pay ! How little does his majesty suspect, that those upon whom he heaps honours and most power here, are his greatest enemies ; and the very men who are Jacobinizing this country ? They are urging those cursed sentiments throughout the country, and under the name of " United Irishmen," this evil is extending beyond imagination. Many thou- sands, I am assured, are weekly sworn, through the country, in such a secret manner and form, as to evade all the law in those cases. When I recollect what I repeatedly foretold you, relative to several of the powers of Europe these two years past, all which was literally verified, I am terrified at what I foresee, regarding my own unfor- tunate native country. To pass hy parliament, and break the con- nexion with Crreat Britain, is, I am informed, the plan of the United Irishmen. The wretches never consider that their grievances are not from England, but from a junto of their own countrymen ; and that Camden, Pelham, and Elliot, (whom, notwithstanding my difference with them, I think the three most honest men in office here,) are as completely junto-ridden as my former patron, the King of Spain, is convention-ridden. At any rate, I am shut out from all conversation with the Castle. Persuaded as I am, that I have acted pro modulo as the most faithful and loyal of his majesty's subjects could, I cannot think of offering my sentiments or opinions where, in all probability, they would be unnoticed. I have so long found you ready to give me advice in the hour of need, that I flatter myself you may find a moment to continue the same friendship and protection, especially at this moment, when I may be an instrument in your hands of national utility. Let me, at all events, request you will direct some of your family to send a line to me, acknow- ledging the receipt of this tedious scrawl from Your faithful and affectionate friend, T. HuSSEY. CORRESPONDENCE. 339 Earl FitzwilUam to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burjce. December 5, 1796. My dear Burke, I return the inclosed, because I think it is the original and not a copy. I am happy that you have invited him* to Beconsfield, if not inconvenient to yourself in a private consideration. No harm can come of your seeing him, but possibly much good. The desire he has of communicating with you, goes a long way towards esta- blishing a belief that your opinions have a weight with him ; and if not that, then it is a proof that they have with his connexions ; and that it is necessary that he should appear to them as being on fair terms with you. It would be a pity that he should have to say that you declined even the communication of matters that concerned them. Whilst they continued to look up to you, your opinion may not be the law to them ; but certainly they must have great weight with them, and may, from time to time, check mischievous projects. I lament exceedingly that Grattan and the Ponsonbys are taking up the consideration of the representation of Ireland, and I lament it still the more, because they are doing it at the Whig Club. It is not that the present representation of Ireland is not a grievance ; it certainly is a most crying one, and is, in a great degree, the cause of the misery of the lower orders. Its being so completely aristocratical, leaves the lower orders without protection. In that example we may learn what tyrants we aristo- crats can be, when there is no check whatever on the selfish bent of the human mind. — Happy the country where there is such an alloy of democracy, as brings the overbearing inclination of the great to a fellow-feeling with the low ; as makes it necessary that the one should court the other ; this alone will secure to the lowest an equitable share of protection from their superiors, and render the latter the most useful part of society, even to the former. But still I tremble, when I see ancient arrangements meddled with; there is no ascertaining, when once the dyke is cut, how far the waters will flow ; and I dislike it the more when I see the con- sideration takes its rise, not in a constituted^ but in a self-created authority — it savours of Jacobinism. I have lately thrown out a loose hint upon the subject, by strongly recommending to our friends there, to stand firm in their proper situation, the House of Commons ; — to stick to that. But I fear the reason which, above all others, would weigh with me against agitating any constitutional question, any where but in parliament, will not act in the same ^ Mr. Keogh. z 2 340 CORRESPONDENCE. direction with every one else. The fear of O'Connor* would, above all things, deter me from bringing a constitutional question before a club. The fear of that person may, I fear, induce others to do the contrary ; with a view, as it will be considered, of pre- occupying the ground. Should it prove so, all I say is, that I fear it will not prove in the event to have been well considered. — This is, however, all surmise ; — may my alarms prove ill-founded. — I know the good intentions, and will rely upon the prudence of our friends. They are upon the spot to see the ground; and, I trust, are assured of making the most advantageous dis- positions. The vast scheme of finance is at last out, and it ends in the greatest job for the monied men. — When was such a bonus given ? I have heard of vast premiums by the rise of stock, but never of such a direct bonus. Two points Mr. Pitt has gained by his manoeuvring ; — the first is, he has gained the hearts of the monied men (whom he had lost) by the advantage he has given them ; and the next is, he has terrified all the landed interest into a support of his Jacobinical peace, by the scourge he held up against them. War he has rendered impossible, — the terror of the threat is still alive. As for myself, he has put me in an awkward situation, and has left me in a great doubt what is fit for me to do ; — to subscribe or not, — I have left it in the discretion of my friend Baldwin ", who will see what others of my description will do. I am, in my own case, an instance of the folly of his threatened plan. I am in possession of a large income arising from a settled estate ; an admirable subject for regular taxation, but a person incapable of advancing a sum of money without considerable embarrassment. Yet, had he not relinquished his plan, he would have extorted from me that which I could not give without distress ; whilst he refused it from those, who, on proof, are very capable of supplying him, and who wish it. But circumstanced as I am, — the single, marked opponent of peace, if men of landed property run down to put their names to the subscription, and to gain patriotism and plunder with one dash of the pen, mine must not be the only one not to be found. — I have, therefore, left my conduct to B.'s judgment. Let me hear that you continue to mend ; more acceptable news can never reach Your affectionate friend, W. F. * Mr. Arthur O'Connor, a United Irishnan, and one of the most celebrated democrats of the day. 5 William Baldwin, Esq., some time M.P. for Maltou, afterwards for Westhury. He died in 1813. CORRESPONDENCE. 341 Earl Fitzwilliam to the Biglit Hon. Edmimd BurJce. December 7, 1796. My dear Burke, I certainly forgot to put up Keogh's letter, for I now find it in my pocket ; I suspect I enclosed some other ; what it was I don't know, but if I did, pray send it back. I have the pleasure of hear- ing from Mr. Jenkins ° that your looks are improved since he last saw you, which was in October. I am much obliged to you for your goodness to Milton. I understand you kept him a night at Beconsfield, and carried him to Penn School in the morning. I find there was no occasion for Mr. Baldwin to exercise his judg- ment about subscribing for me to the loan ; before he got my letter, the loan was filled, and the subscription closed: — No want of patriotic subscriptions ; an overplus of patriots and guineas, — disappointed patriots without number, lamenting that their offering could not be received. Bad news from Italy — it seems a strange fatality that, a second time, the Austrians should be defeated, apparently owing to the same cause as their first defeat, — dividing their army. I tremble for their Oispadane republic, — it will be established. I see another subject of alarm ; a Spanish general, whom they had sent to learn tactics (revolutionary ones I surmise) with the army of the Rhine and Moselle, has taken leave of the Directory, to return home with all his acquisitions in the science — the Spanish army will presently be instructed in the true art. Nothing can save that miserable government but the virtue of its subjects, — their innate hatred of the French. Ever yours, W. F. The Bight Hon. Edmimd BurJce to Rev. Dr. Hussey. December, 1796. My dear Sir, This morning I received your letter of the 30th of November from Maynooth. I dictate my answer from my couch, on which I am obliged to lie for a good part of the day. I cannot conceal from you, much less can I conceal from myself, that in all probability I am not long for this world. Indeed, things are in such a situa- tion, independently of the domestic wound, that I never could * He was private tutor to the present Lord Fitzwilliam. He died in 1839. 342 COERESPONDENCE. have less reason for regret in quitting the world than at this moment ; and my end will be, by several, as little regretted. I have no difficulty at all in communicating to you, or, if it were any use, to mankind at large, my sentiments and feelings on the dismal state of things in Ireland ; but I find it difficult indeed to give you the advice you are pleased to ask, as to your own conduct in your very critical situation. You state, what has long been but too obvious, that it seems the unfortunate policy of the hour, to put to the far largest portion of the king's subjects in Ireland the desperate alternative, between a thankless acquiescence under grievous oppression, or a refuge in Jacobinism, with all its horrors, and all its crimes. You prefer the former dismal part of the choice. There is no doubt but that you would have reason, if the election of one of these evils was at all a security against the other. But they are things very alliable, and as closely connected as cause and effect. That Jacobinism which is speculative in its origin, and which arises from wantonness and fulness of bread, may possibly be kept under by firmness and prudence. The very levity of character which produces it may extinguish it. But Jacobinism, which arises from penury and irritation, from scorned loyalty and rejected allegiance, has much deeper roots. They take their nourishment from the bottom of human nature, and the unalterable constitution of things, and not from humour and caprice, or the opinions of the day about privi- leges and liberties. These roots will be shot into the depths of hell, and will at last raise up their proud tops to heaven itself. This radical evil may baffle the attempts of heads much wiser than those are, who, in the petulance and riot of their drunken power, are neither ashamed nor afraid to insult and provoke those whom it is their duty, and ought to be their glory, to cherish and protect. So, then, the little wise men of the west, with every hazard of this evil, are resolved to persevere in the manly and well-timed resolution of a war against popery. In the principle, and in all the proceedings, it is perfectly suited to their character. They begin this last series of their offensive operations by laying traps for the consciences of poor foo1>soldiers. They call these wretches to their church, (empty of a volunteer congregation,) not by the bell, but by the whip. This ecclesiastic military discipline is happily taken up, in order to form an army of well-scourged papists into a firm phalanx for the support of the Protestant religion. I wish them joy of this their valuable discovery in theology, politics, and the art military. Fashion governs the world, and it is the fashion in the great French empire of pure and perfect Protestantism, as CORRESPONDENCE. 343 well as in the little busy meddling province of servile imitators, that apes at an humble distance the tone of its capital, to make a crusade against you poor Catholics. But vehatever may be thought in Ireland of its share of a w^ar against the Pope in that outlying part of Europe, the zealous Protestant, Buonaparte, has given his late holiness far more deadly blows, in the centre of his own power, and in the nearest seats of his influence, than the Irish directory ' can arrogate to itself within its own jurisdiction, from the utmost efforts of its political and military skill. I have my doubts (they may, perhaps, arise from my ignorance) whether the glories of the night expeditions, in surprising the cabin fortresses in Louth and Meath, or whether the slaughter and expulsion of the Catholic weavers by another set of zealots in Armagh, or even the proud trophies of the late potato field ' in that county, are quite to be compared with the Protestant victories on the plains of Lombardy, or to the possession of the flat of Bologna, or to the approaching sack of Eome, where, even now, the Protestant commissaries give the law. In all this business. Great Britain, to us merely secular politicians, makes no great figure, but let the glory of Great Britain shift for itself as it may. All is well, provided popery is crushed. This war against popery furnishes me with a clue that leads me out of a maze of perplexed politics, which, without it, I could not in the least understand. I now can account for the whole. Lord Malmesbury is sent to prostrate the dignity of the Enghsh monarchy at Paris, that an Irish, popish common soldier may be whipped in, to give an appearance of habitation, to a deserted Protestant church in Ireland: — Thus we balance the account ; — defeat and dishonour abroad ; oppression at home. We sneak to the regicides, but we boldly trample on our poor fellow-citizens. But all is for the Protestant cause. The same ruling principle explains the rest. We have abdicated the crown of Corsica, which had been newly soldered to the crown of Great Britain and to the crown of Ireland, lest the British diadem should look too like the Pope's triple crown. We have run away from the people of Corsica, and abandoned them without capitulation of any kind in favour of those of them who might be our friends ; but then it was for their having capitulated with us for popery, as a part of their constitution. We made amends for our sins by our repentance, and for our apostasy from Pro- ' By the " Irish directory," Mr. Burke means the Protestant ascendancy party, then in power in Ireland. * Mr. Burke alludes to popular disturbances in Louth and Meath, and the very questionable means taken by the Irish government to suppress them ; to the attacks on the Catholics in Armagh by Orangemen ; and probably to the " Battle of the Diamond," in that county, in Sept. 1795. 344 CORRESPONDENCE. testantism by a breach of faith with popery. We have fled, overspread with dirt and ashes, but with hardly enough of sackcloth to cover our nakedness. We recollected that this island (together with its yews " and its other salubrious productions) had given birth to the illustrious champion of the Protestant world, Buonaparte. It was, therefore, not fit (to use the favourite French expression) that the cradle of this religious hero should be polluted by the feet of the British renegade slaves, who had stipulated to support popery in that island, whilst his friends and fellow-missionaries are so gloriously employed in extirpating it in another. Our policy is growing every day into more and more consistency. We have showed our broad back to the Mediterranean ; we have abandoned, too, the very hope of an alliance in Italy ; we have relinquished the Levant to the Jacobins ; we have considered our trade as nothing ; our policy and our honour went along with it. But all these objects were well sacrificed to remove the very suspicion of giving any assistance to that abomination the Pope, in his insolent attempts to resist a truly Protestant power resolved to humble the papal tiara, and to prevent his pardons and dispensations from being any longer the standing terror of the wise and virtuous directory of Ireland ; who cannot sit down with any tolerable comfort to an innocent little job, whilst his bulls are thundering through the world. I ought to suppose that the arrival of General Hoche is eagerly expected in Ireland ; for he, too, is a most zealous Pro- testant, and he has given proof of it, by the studied cruelties and insults by which he put to death the old Bishop of Dol ', whom (but from the mortal fear I am in lest the suspicion of popery should attach upon me) I should call a glorious martyr, and should class him amongst the most venerable prelates that have appeared in this century. It is to be feared, however, that the zealots will be disappointed in their pious hopes, by the season of the year, and the bad condition of the Jacobin navy ; which may keep him this winter from giving his brother Protestants his kind assistance in accomplishing with you, what the other friend of the cause, Buonaparte, is doing in Italy ; and what the masters of these two pious men, the Protestant Directory of France, have so thoroughly accompUshed in that, the most popish, but unluckily, whilst popish, the most cultivated, the most populous, and the most flourishing of all countries,— the Austrian Netherlands. When I consider the narrowness of the views, and the total want of human wisdom displayed in our western crusade against popery, it is impossible to speak of it but with every mark of 9 Sic tua Cyrnseas fugiant examina taxoa. Virg. Eel. ix. 30. • In Bretagne. CORRESPONDENCE. 345 contempt and scorn. Yet one cannot help shuddering with horror when one contemplates the terrible consequences that are frequently the results of craft united with folly, placed in an unnatural eleva- tion. Such ever will be the issue of things, when the mean vices attempt to mimic the grand passions. Great men will never do great mischief but for some great end. For this, they must be in a state of inflammation, and, in a manner, out of themselves. Among the nobler animals, whose blood is hot, the bite is never poisonous, except when the creature is mad ; but in the cold- blooded reptile race, whose poison is exalted by the chemistry of their icy complexion, their venom is the result of their health, and of the perfection of their nature. Woe to the country in which such snakes, whose primum mobile is their belly, obtain wings, and from serpents become dragons. It is not that these people want natural talents, and even a good cultivation ; on the contrary, they are the sharpest and most sagacious of mankind in the things to which they apply. But having wasted their faculties upon base and unworthy objects, in any thing of a higher order they are far below the common rate of two-legged animals. I have nothing more to say just now upon the directory in Ireland, which, indeed, is alone worth any mention at all. As to the half-dozen (or half-score as it may be) of gentlemen, who, under various names of authority, are sent from hence to be the subordinate agents of that low order of beings, I consider them as wholly out of the question. Their virtues or their vices ; their ability or their weakness ; are matters of no sort of consideration. You feel the thing very rightly. All the evils of Ireland originate within itself. That unwise body, the United Irishmen, have had the folly to represent those evils as owing to this country, when, in truth, its chief guilt is in its total neglect, its utter oblivion, its shameful indiiferenee, and its entire ignorance of Ireland, and of every thing that relates to it, and not in any oppressive disposition towards that unknown region. No such disposition exists. English government has farmed out Ireland, without the reservation of a peppercorn rent, in power or influence, public or individual, to the little narrow faction that domineers there. Through that alone they see, feel, hear, or understand, any thing relative to that king- dom. Nor do they any way interfere, that I know of, except in giving their countenance, and the sanction of their names, to what- ever is done by that junto. Ireland has derived some advantage from its independence on the parliament of this kingdom, or rather, it did derive advantage from the arrangements that were made at the time of the establish- ment of that independence. But human blessings are mixed, and 346 CORRESPONDENCE. I cannot but think, that even these great blessings were bought dearly enough, when along with the weight of the authority, they have totally lost all benefit from the superintendence of the British parliament. Our pride of England is succeeded by fear. It is little less than a breach of order, even to mention Ireland in the House of Commons of Great Britain. If the people of Ireland were to be flayed aUve by the predominant faction, it would be the most critical of all attempts, so much as to discuss the subject in any public assembly upon this side of the water. If such a faction should hereafter happen, by its folly or its iniquity, or both, to promote disturbances in Ireland, the force paid by this kingdom (supposing our own insufficient) would infallibly be employed to redress them. This would be right enough, and indeed our duty, if our public councils at the same time possessed and employed the means of inquiring into the merits of that cause, in which their blood and treasure were to be laid out. By a strange inversion of the order of things, not only the largest part of the natives of Ireland are thus annihilated, but the parliament of Great Britain itself is rendered no better than an instrument in the hands of an Irish faction. This is ascendancy with a witness .' In what all this will end, it is not impossible to conjecture ; though the exact time of the accomplishment cannot be fixed with the same certainty as you may calculate an eclipse. As to your particular conduct, it has undoubtedly been that of a good and faithful subject, and of a man of integrity and honour. You went to Ireland this last time, as you did the first time, at the express desire of the English minister of that department, and at the request of the lord-lieutenant himself. You were fully aware of the difficulties that would attend your mission ; and I was equally sensible of them. Yet you consented, and I advised, that you should obey the voice of what we considered an indispensable duty. We regarded, as the great evil of the time, the growth of Jacobinism, and we were very well assured, that, from a variety of causes, no part of these countries was more favourable to the growth and progress of that evil than our unfortunate country. I considered it as a tolerably good omen, that government would do nothing further to foment and promote the Jacobin malady, that they called upon you, a strenuous and steady royalist, an enlightened and exemplary clergyman, a man of birth and respectable con- nexions in the country, a man well-informed and conversant in state affairs, and in the general politics of the several courts of Europe, and intimately and personally habituated in some of those courts. I regretted indeed that the ministry had declined to make any sort of use of the reiterated informations you had given them of the CORRESPONDENCE. 347 designs of their enemies, and had taken no notice of the noble and disinterested offers which, through me, were made, for employing you to save Italy and Spain to the British alliance. But this being past, and Spain and Italy lost, I was in hopes that they were resolved to put themselves in the right at home, by calling upon you ; that they would leave, on their part, no cause or pretext for Jacobinism, except in the seditious disposition of individuals ; but I now see that, instead of profiting by your advice and services, they will not so much as take the least notice of your written representations, or permit you to have access to them, on the part of those whom it was your business to reconcile to govern- ment, as well as to conciliate government towards them. Having rejected your services, as a friend of government, and in some sort in its employment, they will not even permit to you the natural expression of those sentiments, which every man of sense and honesty must feel, and which every plain and sincere man must speak, upon this vile plan of abusing military discipline, and perverting it into an instrument of religious persecution. You remember with what indignation I heard of the scourging of the soldier at Oarrick for adhering to his religious opinions. It was at the time when Lord Fitzwilliam went to take possession of a short-lived government in Ireland — hreves et infaustos populi Hiberni. He could not live long in power, because he was a true patriot, a true friend of both countries, a steady resister of Jacobinism in every part of the world. On this occasion he was not of my opinion. He thought, indeed, that the sufferer ought to be relieved and discharged, and I think he was so ; but, as to punish- ment to be inflicted on the ofifenders, he thought more lenient measures, comprehended in a general plan to prevent such evils in future, would be the better course. My judgment, such as it was, had been that punishment ought to attach, so far as the laws permitted, upon every evil action of subordinate power, as it arose. That such acts ought at least to be marked with the displeasure of government, because general remedies are uncertain in their operation when obtained ; but that it is a matter of general uncertainty whether they can be obtained at all. For a time, Ms appeared to be the better opinion. Even after he was cruelly torn from the embraces of the people of Ireland, when the militia and other troops were encamped (if I recollect right) at Loughlins- town, you yourself, with the knowledge and acquiescence of govern- ment, publicly performed your function to the Catholics then in service. I believe too, that all the Irish, who had composed the foreign corps taken into British pay, had their regular chaplains. 348 CORRESPONDENCE. But we see that things are returning fast to their old corrupted channels. There they will continue to flow. If any material evil had been stated to have arisen from this liberty, that is, if sedition, mutiny, disobedience of any kind to command, had been taught in their chapels, there might have been a reason for not only forcing the soldiers into churches where better doctrines were taught, but for punishing the teachers of disobedience and sedition. But I have never heard of any such complaint. It is a part, therefore, of the systematic ill-treatment of Catholics. This s;^stem never wiU be abandoned, as long as it brings advantage to those who adopt it. If the country enjoys a momentary quiet, it is pleaded as an argument in favour of the good effect of wholesome rigours. If, on the contrary, the country grows more discontented, and if riots and disorders multiply, new arguments are furnished for giving a vigorous support to the authority of the directory, on account of the rebellious disposition of the people. So long, therefore, as disorders in the country become pretexts for adding to the power and emolument of a junto, means will be found to keep one part of it or other in a perpetual state of confusion and disorder. This is the old traditionary policy of that sort of men. The discontents which, under them, break out amongst the people, become the tenure by which they hold their situation. I do not deny that in these contests the people, however oppressed, are frequently much to blame ; whether provoked to their excesses or not, undoubtedly the law ought to look to nothing but the offence, and punish it. The redress of grievances is not less necessary than the punishment of disorders, but it is of another resort. In punishing, however, the law ought to be the only rule. If it is not of sufficient force, a force consistent with its general principles ought to be added to it. The first duty of a state is to provide for its own conservation. Until that point is secured, it can preserve and protect nothing else. But, if possible, it has greater interest in acting according to strict law than even the subject himself. For if the people see that the law is violated to crush them, they will certainly despise the law. They, or their party, will be easily led to violate it, whenever they can, by all the means in their power. Except in cases of direct war, whenever government abandons law, it proclaims anarchy. I am well aware (if I cared one farthing for the few days I have to live, whether the vain breath of men blow hot or cold about me) that they who censure any oppressive proceeding of government are exciting the people to sedition and revolt. If there be any oppression, it is CORRESPONDENCE. 349 very true ; or if there be nothing more than the lapses, which will happen to human infirmity at all times, and in the exercise of all power, such complaints would be wicked indeed. These lapses are exceptions implied ; an allowance for which is a part of the under- stood covenant, by which power is delegated by fallible men to other men that are not infallible ; but whenever a hostile spirit on the part of government is shown, the question assumes another form. This is no casual error, no lapse, no sudden surprise ; nor is it a question of civil or political liberty. What contemptible stuff it is to say, that a man who is lashed to church against his conscience, would not discover that the whip is painful, or that he had a conscience to be violated, unless I told him so ! Would not a penitent offender, confessing his offence, and expiating it by his blood, when denied the consolation of religion at his last moments, feel it as no injury to himself; or that the rest of the world would feel so horrible and impious an oppression with no indignation, unless I happened to say it ought to be reckoned amongst the most barbarous acts of our barbarous time ? Would the people consider the being taken out of their beds and transported from their family and friends to be an equitable, and legal, and charitable proceeding, unless I should say that it was a violation of justice and a dissolu- tion, fro tanto, of the very compact of human society ? If a house of parliament, whose essence it is to be the guardian of the laws, and a sympathetic protector of the rights of the people, and eminently so of the most defenceless, should not only countenance, but applaud this very violation of all law, and refuse even to examine into the grounds of the necessity, upon the allegation of which the law was so violated, would this be taken for a tender solicitude for the welfare of the poor, and a true proof of the representative capacity of the House of Commons, unless I should happen to say (what I do say) that the House had not done its duty, either in preserving the sacred rules of law, or in justifying the woeful and humiliating privilege of necessity ? They may indemnify and reward others. They might contrive, if I was within their grasp, to punish me, or, if they thought it worth their while, to stigmatize me by their censures ; but who will indemnify them for the disgrace of such an act ? who will save them from the censures of posterity I What act of oblivion will cover them from the wakeful memory, from the notices and issues of the grand remembrancer^ — the God within ? Would it pass with the people, who suffer from the abuse of lawful power, when at the same time they suffer from the use of lawless violence of factions amongst themselves, that government had done its duty, and acted leniently in not animadverting on one of those acts of violence, if I did not 350 CORRESPONDENCE. tell them that the lenity with which government passes by the crimes and oppressions of a favourite faction, was itself an act of the most atrocious cruelty 1 If a parliament should hear a de- clamation, attributing the sufferings of those who are destroyed by these riotous proceedings to their misconduct, and then to make them self-felonious, and should in effect refuse an inquiry into the fact, is no inference to be drawn from thence, unless I tell men in high places that these proceedings, taken together, form not only an encouragement to the abuse of power, but to riot, sedition, and a rebellious spirit, which, sooner or later, will turn upon those that encourage it ? I say little of the business of the potato field, because I am not acquainted with the particulars. If any persons were found in arms against the king, whether in a field of potatoes, or of flax, or of turnips, they ought to be attacked by a military power, and brought to condign punishment by course of law. If the county in which the rebellion was raised was not in a temper fit for the execution of justice, a law ought to be made, such as was made with regard to Scotland, in the suppression of the rebellion of forty- five, to try the delinquents. There would be no difficulty in con- victing men who were found ^'■flagrante delicto^ But I hear nothing of all this. No law, no trial, no punishment commensurate to rebellion, nor of a known proportion to any lesser delinquency, nor any discrimination of the more or the less guilty. Shall you and I find fault with the proceedings of France, and be totally indifferent to the proceedings of directories at home ? You and I hate Jacobinism as we hate the gates of hell. Why ? Because it is a system of oppression. What can make us in love with oppres- sion because the syllables "Jiascoiiw" are not put before the "ism," when the very same things are done under the " ism " preceded by any other name in the directory of Ireland ? I have told you, at a great length for a letter, — very shortly for the subject and for my feelings on it, my sentiments of the scene in which you have been called to act. On being consulted, you advised the sufferers to quiet and submission ; and, giving government full credit for an attention to its duties, you held out, as an inducement to that submission, some sort of hope of redress. You tried what your reasons and your credit would do to effect it. In consequence of this piece of service to government, you have been excluded from all communication with the Castle ; and perhaps you may thank yourself that you are not in Newgate. You have done a little more than, in your circumstances, I should have done. You are, indeed, very excusable from your motives ; but it is very dangerous to hold out to an irritated people any hopes that we are CORRESPONDENCE. 351 not pretty sure of being able to realize. The doctrine of passive obedience, as a doctrine, it is unquestionably right to teach, but to go beyond that is a sort of deceit ; and the people who are pro- voked by their oppressors do not readily forgive their friends, if, whilst the first persecute, the other appear to deceive them. These friends lose all power of being serviceable to that government in whose favour they have taken an ill-considered step ; therefore, my opinion is, that until the Castle shall show a greater disposition to listen to its true friends than hitherto it has done, it would not be right in you any further to obtrude your services. In the mean time, upon any new application from the Catholics, you ought to let them know, simply and candidly, how you stand. The Duke of Portland sent you to Ireland from a situation in this country of advantage and comfort to yourself, and no small utility to others. You explained to him, in the clearest manner, the conduct you were resolved to hold. I do not know that your writing to him will be of the smallest advantage. I rather think not : yet I am far from sure that you do not owe to him and your- self, to represent to his grace the matters which in substance you have stated to me. If any thing else should occur to me, I shall, as you ask it, com- municate my thoughts to you. In the mean time, I shall be happy to hear from you as often as you find it convenient. You never can neglect the great object of which you are so justly fond ; and let me beg of you not to let slip out of your mind the idea of the auxiliary studies and acquirements which I recommended to you, to add to the merely professional pursuits of your young clergy ; and above all, I hope that you will use the whole of your influence among the Catholics, to persuade them to a greater indifference about the political objects which at present they have in view. It is not but that I am aware of their importance, or that I wish them to be abandoned ; but that they would follow opportunities, and not attempt to force any thing. I doubt whether the privileges they now seek, or have lately sought, are compassable. The struggle would, I am afraid, only lead to those very disorders which are made pretexts for further oppression of the oppressed. I wish the lead- ing people amongst them would give the most systematic attention, to prevent frequent communication with their adversaries. There are a part of them proud, insulting, capricious, and tyrannical. These of course will keep at a distance. There are others of a seditious temper, who would make them at first the instruments, and in the end the victims, of their factious temper and purposes. Those that steer a middle course are truly respectable, but they are very few. Your friends ought to avoid all imitation of the vices of their proud lords. To many of these they are themselves suffi- 362 CORRESPONDENCE. ciently disposed. I should therefore recommend to the middle ranks of that description, in which I include not only all mer- chants, but all farmers and tradesmen, that they would change as much as possible those expensive modes of living, and that dissipa- tion to which our countrymen in general are so much addicted. It does not at all become men in a state of persecution. They ought to conform themselves to the circumstances of a people, whom government is resolved not to consider as upon a par with their fellow-subjects. Favour they will have none. They must aim at other resources ; and to make themselves independent in fact, before they aim at a nominal independence. Depend upon it, that with half the privileges of the others, joined to a different sys- tem of manners, they would grow to a degree of importance, to which, without it, no privileges could raise them, much less any intrigues or factious practices. I know very well that such a dis- cipline, among so numerous a people, is not easily introduced, but I am sure it is not impossible. If I had youth and strength, I would go myself over to Ireland to work on that plan ; so certain I am that the well-being of all descriptions in the kingdom, as well as of themselves, depends upon a reformation amongst the Catholics. The work will be new, and slow in its operation, but it is certain in its effect. There is nothing which will not yield to perseverance and method. Adieu ! my dear sir. You have full liberty to show this letter to all those (and they are but very few) who may be dis- posed to think well of my opinions. I did not care, so far as regards myself, whether it were read on the 'Change ; but with regard to you, more reserve may be proper ; but of that you will be the best judge. Riglit Hon. William Windham to the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. Park-street, Westminster, December 20, 1796- My deae Sib, I hope, in future, and so long as writing shall continue painful, you will never abate my satisfaction in the receipt of your letters, by the reflection of their not being written in your own hand. Expressions so kind, and approbation so flattering, can never fail to be welcome, in whatever hand they may be conveyed. The speech * which you so obligingly commend, is a source to me of satisfaction, from better considerations than any opinion that I entertain of its merit. In that respect it is of as little consequence as need be. But its effect has been beyond both its merit and any 2 Delivered by Mr. Windham on the 16th Dec. 1796, upon General Fitzpatrick'a motion relative to the detention of General La Fayette by the Emperor. CORRESPONDENCE. 353 expectation that I could have formed from it ; and is a strong proof of what may be done with the pubhc mind, and how easily men may be made to think and feel rightly, in innumerable cases where at present they do not, were reason fairly applied to them. You cannot conceive how many people I have had, who have thanked me for speaking their sentiments ; and what a quantity of right disposition there has appeared upon this question, which would have absolutely languished and died, and been lost, both now and for ever, if it had not been revived, and animated, and sustained in life by this seasonable encouragement and protection. All that I have to regret is, that out of respect to others' cold caution, and from fear of meddling with a subject not absolutely my own, I abstained from saying any thing on the situation of Sir Sydney Smith, whose case seemed created for the purpose of confounding those who, being wholly indifferent about him, were thus anxious for the fate of a stranger ', known only by his treason to his own sovereign. Wilberforce, as you will perceive, appeared in his full lustre. What a state is a country in, whose treasures are to be guided by such counsellors ! There was a part that I meant against him, and such simulars of virtue, that I am afraid did not receive its proper application, and was very probably not repeated in the papers. It might be understood of some higher personages than he. Upon the whole, this speech, though nothing in itself, has done knight's service, by counteracting that chapter of a sentimental novel, for such Fitzpatrick's speech was, to which the House was about to sacrifice its character, its policy, and its justice *. By accounts received to-day, that tyrant ally, against whom every presumption is to be admitted, is going on, rendering nearly as much service to mankind, as Wilberforce would do by his humanity ; and in pushing the war with all possible vigour and success, both in Italy and on the side of Kehl. I enclose you the official report. There is at least the hope that, if peace must be made, it will be upon terms so disadvantageous to France, as, besides diminishing their means and their authority, will put people so much out of conceit of the government, as to facilitate any endeavours that may be made to put things into a better state. I will do the best I can about your queries, and am ever, My dear sir. Most faithfully yours, W. Windham. ^ La Fayette. * General Fitzpatrick's speech upon the imprisonment and treatment of La Fayette. 354 CORRESPONDENCE. Bight Hon. Edmund Burle to the Bight Hon. Wm. Windham. Beconsfield, December 23, 1796. My deae friend, I make use of the saturnalian liberty with which you have indulged your Davus at the close of this December. I write with the hand of my friend and kinsman, Nagle, who has indeed been very helpful to me. His brother, a captain- lieutenant in Mahony's chasseurs, whom you had seen at the Duke of York's head-quarters, and who we conceived had been killed, is now reported to be somewhere alive, and a prisoner. I give no great credit to the report, because, had he been alive, I think he must have found some way of letting his friends (though he might be afraid of making known his con- nexion with me) have some intelligence of his situation. The report arises from a letter, written by Count Mahony himself to his brother in Ireland the very day before the count was killed. I never heard before this time of Colonel Mahony having been killed, and therefore the date of the letter (of which I have not been informed) might go something towards clearing the way for further inquiry into the fate of this young man. Perhaps they may know something of the time at the Duke of York's office, or at my Lord Grenville's, or from the secretary of Count Starembergh °. If no intelligence can be had here (which I think the most likely), could you prevail upon Mr. Canning to write to Colonel Crawford, or his brother, to set on foot an inquiry on this' subject ; for I shall be very well pleased to find this worthy creature, in whom I took a very great interest, alive. I have been looking in vain for a curious print which I had in my hand yesterday. It is concerning the imprisonment of La Fayette. It is far from ill-executed. It was torn from a small pocket-book, called the Minor's Pocket-book for the year 1797, to which it served as a frontispiece. It is printed for Darton and Harvey, Gracechurch-street ; it fronts a narrative, said to be taken from a monthly magazine. It is, as you will see, a neat abstract of General Fitzpatrick's speech, and finds nothing about Monsieur de la Fayette worth relating, except the sufferings of his family under Robes- pierre ; and his exile, in consequence of an attempt to save the life of Louis XVI. I mention this, to let you see with what art and system this business is worked up, and that the sentimental novel is, in reality, a political contrivance that has some more meaning than the display of a hypocritical humanity. Why should it not be a pretty subject for a series of prints like the " Rake's Progress," or ' The imperial minister. CORRESPONDENCE. 355 the " Harlot's Progress," to give the BebeTs Progress, in which the heroic exploits and various fortunes of citizen La Fayette might make an useful moral lesson to all English generals who might be inclined to imitate at home what they so greatly admire in their friend abroad ? By the way, I totally forgot from whom it was I heard a very accurate detail of the attempt made, with great regu- larity and well-combined contrivance, by Mr. Church, and others of the Fox party here, to effect the escape of that suffering hero from Olmutz. I heard the name of the physician, who was sent to Vienna for the purpose, though I do not recollect it. He was a young physician of London, and insinuated himself so well into the good graces of some persons of importance in the imperial court, that when Mons. de la Fayette, having had his cue, sent to Vienna to request, if possible, the assistance of an English physician, in whose skill alone he pretended to have any confidence, this emissary was sent to him without any difficulty. The governor of the castle had the humanity to permit La Fayette, upon the doctor's repre- sentation of the necessity of air and exercise for his cure, to go out in an open chaise with him for several days together ; until, all things being settled for the escape, two horses were provided, upon one of which the doctor mounted, and gave the other, with cash for his journey, to the prisoner. The doctor got clear off ; but the other, falling into confusion, and tumbling from blunder into blunder, was discovered, and carried before a magistrate, who delivered him over to the governor. This was the date of any unusual closeness and rigour in his confinement ; and was the cause, as I take it, of the precautions that are taken with regard to the entry and exit of all persons who may visit him in his prison. It is right, of course, that persons who have attempted to make their escape should be guarded with double vigilance. I wish you would ask Laurence whether he recollects from whom I had this detailed account, and the name of the physician who was the prin- cipal actor in the business. Nagle seems to think he has read some short account of it in a newspaper ; but it is rather extraordinary, if it had been thus published, that Fitzpatrick should have taken no notice of it, either to refute the story, if it were public and not true, or to repel the inferences which would arise, in order to diminish the effect of his tragical tale. I think that the substance of what you have said relative to the humanity of politicians of the first or second order, is touched in the account given of your speech in the Sun ; and to me the appli- cation was very intelligible. As to Mr. Pitt's speech, there was nothing at all in it, but a dry point of law. Nothing was said but A a 2 356 CORRESPONDENCE. what might have been urged, if the ease had been that of the most innocent, virtuous, and meritorious suiferer that had ever expe- rienced the severity of fortune. I am sure that the faction will not let the matter rest here. I thank you for the bulletin ; but, on con- sidering the whole matter, I think things still in a very trembling balance, and the final result of the campaign still very doubtful. It is plain that the Austrians were surprised at Kehl ; and that it was rather an escape than a victory. For God's sake, why is the subsidy (or whatever it is) to the emperor reduced to 500,000^., when the King of Pfussia, who had much less need of it, and did much less for it, had fourteen hundred thousand a year, not as a loan, but as a subsidy ? I am afraid we have too much in view a little fallacious economy, which is, in war, little less than madness. I am afraid, too, that we conduct war upon the principles of favouritism, and that we feed the objects of our affections at the expense of our interests. I see nothing said of a provision for the army of Oond^, which has stood the brunt of the war upon that side. The death of the Empress of Russia seems to be a sad con- tretemps. What will become of the French enterprise against Portugal, is now the first object of anxiety. One sees that an active use of the smallest force may keep in check, and possibly bafile, the greatest which chooses to act upon the mere defensive, — a part always unsuitable to great force. Oh ! how open to us was the French and Spanish force at Cadiz ! — which place, at the begin- ning of this century, was an object of what, in the beginning of this century, we knew the value — active enterprise directed against an enemy in his weak points. That expedition failed from causes so evident, that a knowledge of them might have assured against a second failure. The defeat of that expedition not abating the vigour of enterprise, gave us the glorious success at this very Vigo. In itself this event was great, and might have been improved into any thing ; but as long as the war is conducted on its present prin- ciples, our proceedings, at their best, can only bafile some particular design of an enemy. They can never be followed up so as vitally to affect him. I pray to God for the success of Admiral Oolpoys ; but I do not like, after having expended more on the navy (perhaps twice as much as in any former war), that in the two most essential naval ports of Europe, we should be fairly out-numbered by them. I believe that this Brest fleet is contemptibly equipped and manned, and hardly able to stand an engagement, or even the sea and sky ; but as to this latter, they have the advantage of the finest and most opportune ports in the world to run into ; so that, if they should miss Vigo, they may get into Ferrol or Corunna, where they may CORRESPONDENCE. 357 join the Spanish force intended against Portugal, with nearly the same effect as from Vigo itself. Alas ! Europe, for us, hardly opens one hospitable port. Adieu ! Things at St. Domingo seem to have something of a pleasanter aspect, but they are owing rather to the dissensions of the barbarians themselves, than to any efforts of ours, which amount to no more than a poor and uncertain defence of a line too long, too poorly manned, to be of any real strength. I should have great satisfac- tion, however, in this glimmering, if I did not know, with all the rest of the world, that the final effect of our success or defeat will be nearly the same ; and that we are spilling the blood of those planters whom we had refused to protect, until they had become our subjects, as well as the best blood of our own, and of the royahsts of Europe, to make this a more savoury morsel for the regicides. You will have the goodness to excuse this letter, made up of the wanderings of an anxious mind, inhabiting a feeble body ; which dictates its dreams, whilst it is stretched all its low length upon the couch of inaction. I am glad to find that poor Woodford seems, to himself at least, to mend. Poor Lord John Cavendish, who very kindly came to see me a day or two before his death, is gone a little before me. The world never produced a more upright and honourable mind ; with very considerable talents, and a still more considerable improvement of them. He retired from the world exceedingly irritated at the triumph of his enemies, which was carried pretty high against him personally ; and somewhat disgusted with the coldness of his friends, who, at that time, showed little energy of mind, and considered his retreat with too much indifference ^ No more last words of Mr. Baxter, but that I am most zealously and most affectionately. Yours, &c. &e. Edm. Bttbke. P.S. — I have found the print, and send it to you enclosed. The Right Hon. William Windham to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burhe. December 24, 1796. My dear Sie, I cannot refuse myself the satisfaction of informing you, that the news that you will see in the papers is true, and that Lord Malmes- bury is about to spend a happy Christmas with his friends in London ; • Mr. Burke's estimate of Lord John Cavendish ia more fully given in two papers which will be found in the Appendix. 358 CORRESPONDENCE. having received, pour toute reponse to his terms, a declaration that the repubhc could enter into no treaty for countries attached by the constitution to France, and an order to quit France in eight-and- forty hours. His exit will be as splendid as his entry. He affords a brilliant example of the manner in which the ambassadors of suppliant kings should be treated by a high-minded republic. " So should desert in arms be crowned !" I fear, however, this new humiliation will only animate us to' with new expedients and contrivances of meanness. At present, to be sure, every avenue seems to be shut. We must go on with the war, perforce. But I much doubt whether even this necessity, and the privation of all other means, will put us upon making any use of the good dispositions of the interior. I have much to say to you upon that : but I have already, perhaps, said more than I ought, considering how ardently I ought to be supposed to wish for peace, even with the power with which we thought it necessary that every country ought to be at war. Yours, dear sir, in great haste, W. W. The Might Hon. Edmund Burlte to Mrs. Crewe. Beconsfieldj December 27, 1796. If infirmity had not the trick of assuring to itself strange privileges, and having them allowed by the good-nature of others, the old man and woman of this house might well be ashamed in receiving so many of your letters, and sending so little in return. We import things of great value, and, in return, export little or nothing. The truth is, we have had various health, but never any that deserved to be called good. As to news, or speculation upon news, this place affords very little. We see fewer and fewer people every day ; and every day, almost, death thins the stock of our friends, as it has done our family. It is long since I ceased to write any thing with my own hand ; and our friend Ann Hickey is a good-natured and able secretary, both for Mrs. Burke and myself. She is, indeed, very patient, like a good Christian as she is, of a great many dis- agreeable circumstances of my particular complaint. You write to the Duke of Portland and Mr. Windham, through Mrs. Burke and myself, about the military and civil, or uncivil politics of the county of Chester. As to your letters, we do very ' So in original — the reader will easily supply the omitted word. CORRESPONDENCE. 359 frequently communicate them to Mr. Windham, or did so through poor Woodford, as long as he was in a condition to communicate any thing to any person. I do not know that he has any thing to do in miUtia matters, or very httle. The management of the army is with the Duke of York ; the conduct of the war is with Mr. Dundas. As far as I know any thing of Mr. Dundas's office, it is merely executory. Of what nature the Duke of Portland's office is, I know nothing ; for, comparatively, it is but of a new creation, and nobody can tell better than yourself, that retired as I am from the world, and not willing to intrude myself on any one, therefore I never see his grace, nor have any correspondence with him. Though we have so little to do in these matters, we love to read your letters, because you are a good painter, and because you put us in the middle of all the hurry and bustle of your politics. I have told you, I think, two or three times over, that I hate and despise all this militia business ; if it is not good to divert the ladies, I am sure it is not good for any thing else. We cannot make peace, and we will not make war. The enemy despises and laughs at us, threatens us with invasions, keeps us at home to watch our hen-roosts, and does as he pleases about the rest of the world. If he keeps clear of the sea, he has nothing to fear from little Britain and doating old England with the young head upon his old shoulders. How came you to tell me that I said Mr. Pitt was the man to save us from his Jacobin peace 1 I said, indeed, what I thought ; that he was more likely to do it than another ; because, however shaken, he has more of the confidence of the king and the nation, than any of the rest. But, if what I say was worth remembering, you might recollect that I added, that, if he succeeded in his regicide peace, we should not long have a king or a king's minister. Well, since it is your plea- sure in Cheshire, on the stage and off the stage, to drink success to Lord Malmesbury, you had better invite him to eat Christmas pies with you at the Deanery, or at the town-hall at Chester, and there to drink success to his future negotiations ; for his " eight- and-forty hours" is finished some time since, and the next news we expect to hear from him is from London. " Oh ! London is a fine town ! It is a glorious city ; for all the ladies there are fair, and all the men are witty ! " There is a great deal in the old song said of their beauty and their wit, and a couplet or two might be added about their riches ; but, as to their wisdom, little is sung, and less is to be said. Don't you long to see that hero after his achievements ? I know you love chivalry, and he is a Knight of the Bath ; and as how he vanquished the Directory with the odds of five to one against him; besides the little dwarf, Charles La Croix. He is now returned to repose upon his laurels ; and Lady Lavington and Mrs. 360 CORRESPONDENCE. Crewe will weave a garland for his head, which will make him look very spruce after he has struck his national three-coloured cockade, which I am credibly informed he and his trusty squire-arrant, the lean long Sancho Panza, have worn whilst they were performing their enchanted adventure. Don't you long to be in town to hear from their own mouths all the delightful things about Paris ; and how much you and we were mistaken in our opinion about those worthy thieves and murderers I Really, they are not so bad as people would take them to be at a distance. What a pity it is he did not leave his promising white-headed pupil to learn a little longer in their academy ! Well ! my dear madam, the shame and misfortune of our country would make one almost mad, if these punchinello statesmen did not sometimes come out to make us laugh, though through a sad countenance and aching heart. I suppose that a call of the House will shortly bring Mr. Crewe to tovra, and that you will not stay very long after him. I suppose the opposition will contend that we ought to have taken peace in a dirty clout, and not have struggled for any thing ; but it is hard to say what submission or surrender of court Jacobins, or opposition Jacobins, would satisfy their regicide majesties. I suppose Lord Auckland will be next to try his hand. The talk of the town is of a marriage between a daughter of his and Mr. Pitt ; and that our statesman, our premier des hommes, will take his Eve in the garden of Eden. It is lucky there is no serpent there, though plenty of excellent fruit. Adieu ! Forgive all this trifling, and believe that there are no persons who wish you better in this season, or in all seasons, than your old friends of this house. We have lost poor Lord John Cavendish ; he has not left a better man behind him, nor, if the world had known his value, one more capable of being of use to it than he was in his day. His mother's death has brought young Elliot to England. He is much affected with his loss, as I am told, for I have not yet seen him. No more last words of Mr. Baxter ; and so, adieu ! Earl FitzwilUam to the BigM Hon. Edmund Burhe. December 28, 1796. My deae Burke, I made my feeble effort to recall the House of Lords to their principles and their senses ; but of course in vain ; it is not the fashion of the day. The boast on one side was, how far they had gone in humiliation ; on the other, you have not gone far enough ; — neither party willing to give up this post of fame. COERESPONDENCE. 361 My stating, as I did, that the destruction of the system in France was the principle of action three years ago, was treated as visionary and misconception : it was positively denied by Lord Spencer to have been the basis of coalition, and by Lord G-renville ever to have been studiously avoided by administration ; holding himself out as the person best able to explain the intent of the declaration of October, 1793, he asserted that it would be found to guard against such a misconception. The basis of my amend- ment, which was founded upon the principles of that declaration, and extracted from the sentiments of our address of January, 1794, which professes to arise out of that declaration communicated to the House, was therefore set at nought, as founded upon garbled parts of the address, and upon the misconceived principles of the declaration. I trust you will like the amendment : it must be left to the public to judge between the parties, which of the two gives the truest account of past principles and facts ; that is, in the plain acceptation of words, and in the obvious construction of conduct. But I have done ; my conscience is satisfied by the feeble efforts I have made, and by the unequivocal declarations of adherence to what I, in my misconception, understood to be principles of action. By a letter received from Laurence this morning, I find he could not get an opening for the delivery of his sentiments on Friday. Having failed, he has given notice that, after the holidays, he shall take up the subject. It is very consoling to me that this is his intention. I shall be happy that the same sentiments which I have recorded on the journals of our House, are likewise recorded on the journals of the House of Commons. It is heart-breaking to think that they are first abandoned by those whose greatest interest it is longest to maintain them. The country still adhere to them ; but the country will be beaten off when all the higher powers are com- bined to suppress them. Perhaps it is still the more vexatious, con- sidering the tendency of the present state of France. Every thing there seems running to an end. Jacobinism cannot exist without the system of terror. Jealousy between the councils and the Directory, prevent that system being carried to the length necessary for their own preservation ; and I believe Delacroix merely says, the powers of the republic are on the decline. Relache from exertion alone can hold it together. It must crumble to pieces, or the true revolutionary system be regenerated ; the attempting which, offers always a chance of the complete breaking up of the whole. But we interpose for the preservation of Jacobinism. It was for this, I am now told, I became a member of the present administration ! Good God ! Adieu ! Ever affectionately yours, W. F. 362 CORRESPONDENCE. Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Dudley North, Esf. December 28, 1796. My dear Sie, The late melancholy event of Lord John Cavendish's death, as soon as it came to my knowledge, made the trifling strain in which I wrote to you appear to me as a sort of impiety, at the moment when one of the oldest and best friends I ever had, or that our common country ever possessed, was perhaps in his last agony. I was then totally ignorant of that fatal circumstance, and without the least apprehension of any thing like it. The truth is, that it affected me more than I thought I could be affected with any thing, long as I have been familiar with death at home, and having reasons daily to expect my own dissolution. Lord John appeared so very well and so very strong, far beyond what could be looked to from his age, that his departure came on me like a thunder-stroke. I am told that it was to your good-natured visit to me, and to your having let him know that I was in town for a day or two, and, broken and afflicted as I was, I should be happy to see my old friends, I owe the sohd comfort I feel in having embraced him for the last time, and of finding in him, so near our last hours, marks of sympathy, of cordiality, and of confidence, at least equal to any I had received from him at any period since I first had the happi- ness of being acquainted with him. There is lost to the world, in every thing but the example of his life, the fairest mind that perhaps ever informed a human body ; a mind totally free from every vice, and filled with virtues of all kinds, and in each kind of no common rank or form ; benevolent, friendly, generous, disinterested, unambitious almost to a fault. Though cold in his exterior, he was inwardly quick, and full of feeling ; and though reserved, from modesty, from dignity, from family temperament, and not from design, he was an entire stranger to every thing false and counterfeit. So great an enemy to all dissimulation, active or passive, and, indeed, even to a fair and just ostentation, that some of his virtues, obscured by his other virtues, wanted something of that burnish and lustre, which those who knew how to assay the solidity and fineness of the metal wished them to have. It were to be wished that he had had more of that vanity of which we, who acted on the same stage, had enough and to spare. I have known very few men of better natural parts, " Dudley Long, who afterwards assumed the name of North, represented St. Germain in the parliament of 1780 ; Grimsby in those of 1784 and 1790 ; Banbury in those of 1796, 1802, 1806, and 1807 ; Richmond in that of 1812 ; Haddington, &c. in that of 1818 ; and Newtown in that of 1820. CORRESPONDENCE. 363 and none more perfected by every species of elegant and useful erudition. He served the public often out of office, sometimes in it, with fidelity and diligence, and, when the occasion called for it, with a manly resolution. At length, when he was overborne by the torrent, he retired from a world that certainly was not worthy of him. He was of a character that seems as if it were peculiar to this country. He was exactly what we conceive of an English nobleman of the old stamp, and one born in better times, — or what in our fond fancies we imagine such men to have been, and in such times. As to my connexion with him, I began my weak career of public business under his auspices ; I was of too free a spirit not to have opinions of my own, and he was too generous to think the worse of me on that account. Differing with him sometimes about measures, I think we never had any material difference in principle, — no not upon one point. As with him I began my course, so with him, most certainly, I would have retired ; if the business ° in which you and I were so long engaged had not appeared to me to be a solemn and indispensable engagement, from which no human con- sideration could discharge me, until redress was obtained for a suffering people, or that, in the judgment of all mankind, nothing further could be done. When the latter happened, I lost not one moment to execute my purpose. As to the nation, God of his mercy grant they may not suffer the penalties of the greatest and most shameful public crime that ever was committed by any people. Excuse me ! Talking of our departed friend, my pen has run on. I now seldom write, but dictate what I have to say to any absent friend. Be assured that the consolation you have procured me in the last interview with Lord John Cavendish, is an obligation very near my heart. I owe you many, but this is the greatest. I am, with very cordial regard, My dear sir. Your most faithful and obedient humble servant, Edm. Burke. Right Hon. Edmund BurJce to the Bight Hon. William Windham. Beconsfield, January 9, 1797. My dear Sir, I cannot properly express my thanks for your friendly and generous solicitude about me and my health. That physicians can do nothing " The trial of Mr. Hastings. 364 CORRESPONDENCE, for me, I am perfectly convinced. I know what they have pre- scribed, and in which the first men in the profession had agreed, has been of no service to me, but has rather aggravated my com- plaints. I must wait the will of God, and the natural course of things. Bath had been undoubtedly of service to me ; but I doubt very much whether, at this season of the year, it would be of equal utility ; and I do not think that either Mrs. Burke or myself are in a condition to travel. My last London trip did not at all agree with me. I went there but for very little other reason than that my thoughts on the J)resent strange state of things did not leave me much at my ease at home ; but the very idea of going to Bath at a full season, when I cannot take a glass of water but in a crowd, frightens me so much, that I am sure the crowd would do me more harm than the waters would do me good. Here I have appetite enough, better, I think, than at Bath ; but every thing I eat and drink turns to tough phlegm and storms of wind, which scarcely give me half an hour's interval the whole day. I pass the greatest part of it on my couch ; yet, notwithstanding this, I pass my time in bed with less uneasiness than any where else. I hope you've passed this day agreeably. Your set would have suited me very much. I was very uneasy that Laurence could find no place into which he could come with propriety to declare his sentiments in the late debates. Two men occupy the whole scene till the public attention is completely exhausted, and the auditors want to refresh themselves between the acts ; and it is not only that a quarta persona, but even a tertia cannot speak without labouring for it ; such are the laws of your drama. Certainly, neither yourself, nor any other person ever suspected of sentiments like yours, will be permitted to utter them, if either side of the House can help it. I am glad to find that Laurence has taken the only way that was open to him. 1 approve his plan exceedingly, and I hear with pleasure that he gave notice of it in a very proper manner If the newspapers do not deceive us, the French fleet, by design or distress, still continues hovering over the Irish coast. I do not know what instructions our naval force has received, but I agree with you most completely, that a naval force is a very unsure defence. I do not in the least apprehend that, in landing in any part, they would be suddenly joined by any considerable number; but, if they can nestle in the country for any time, especially in the northern parts, they cannot fail o{ profiting of the discontents which prevail so generally in all that part of the kingdom M hope is, that, if they should be abandoned by their navy thev "III find that part of the country overpeopled, as it is ; and h rli capable of maintaining itself, utterly incapable of subsist' ^ CORRESPONDENCE. 365 army; especially a French army, wholly unaccustomed to their mode of living. If a battle should be fought with them, and they should prove victorious, they would be more reinforced, and they would be better provided. I still go on with the work I have in hand, but with terrible interruptions '. God Almighty preserve you to a time when your counsels will be more respected, and when it will not be too late to suffer them to be beneficial. Mrs. Burke still suffers under her cold, which is the worst I ever knew her to be affected with. I hope that poor Woodford continues to mend. Unless you have something very particular to say, don't incon- venience yourself by answering my letters. You have enough to think of, " enough for meditation, even to madness." Adieu ! Once more I recommend you to God. Yours ever truly, Edm. Bueke. Right Hon. William Windham to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke. Park-street, Westminster, January 17, 1797. My dear Sib, What I have understood of the state of your health for some time past, and, still more, what I understand at this moment, must supersede all that unwillingness to obtrude my advice upon you, that has often restrained me, and make me urge my entreaties and remonstrances with a degree of earnestness that I have never hitherto allowed myself, but which the importance and urgency of the case will no longer suffer me to forbear. You must really, my dear sir, come fairly to the point of deciding, in the first instance, whether you wish to recover. If life is really become so insipid or painful that you are really impatient for the scene to close, and if you can reconcile that wish with the interest you feel in the happiness of some of those whom you will leave behind, or with the conviction, which you cannot fail to entertain, that your life is at this moment of more consequence than that, probably, of any other man now living, or than it has been at any preceding period (suppositions which I merely make for the sake of form, and without a suspicion that they can all of them be true), then, indeed, there is no room for further discussion. It is in vain to urge a resort to such means as human precaution and prudence may point out, if the end which they are to obtain is not wished. ' The fourth letter on " a Regicide Peace," published in the 9th volume of the Works, 8vo edition. 366 CORRESPONDENCE. But, if such is not the case, if duty, though not inclination, must enjoin to you the preservation of a life which cannot cease but to the infinite affliction of those whose happiness is most dear to you, and with a loss to the world such as it could never have produced, or been known at least to produce, at any other period, then, surely, you will not have acted up to your own ideas, or to the expectations which others would have reason to form of you, if you persist in resisting those means, uncertain as they may be, which, in the judgment of any persons tolerably skilled, may afford you any means of relief. ' Such means have certainly not been wanting ; nor, should the first fail, were others to be despaired of, had there been a fair disposition to go in search of them. But, in fact, the first had not failed. Bath, which every one had agreed to recom- mend — Bath, the most simple and ready, and easily resorted to — Bath had been tried, and succeeded on the trial, to the full extent that had been hoped. Can you, my dear sir, justify it to yourself, can you justify it to your friends, and those most dear to you, that you have suffered yourself to be diverted by a repugnance, founded on nothing but a dislike of what you call going into public, to defer a repetition of that remedy, till your disorder has now gained such ground, that no one, certainly, can pretend to rely, with equal confidence, on the power of Bath water to stop it ? At all events, let that, or whatever else may be thought prefer- able, be tried without delay. I beg only and claim, in the name of myself, and of those whose claim must necessarily be far stronger that you will take, without an instant's delay, the best advice and follow implicitly what that advice shall recommend. For this pur- pose, if you will not consent to come up to town, I shall set off on Thursday, (the birth-day must prevent my going to-morrow ) and if you do not forbid it, endeavour to bring down Dr. Blane in whom I feel a considerable confidence, with me. Should he be of opinion with the rest, then Bath is that which promises best I shall be ready, putting off an excursion that I had some slight thoughts of mto Norfolk, but to which, however, there were several objections, to accompany you thither as soon as you please, and to stay with you till the meeting of parliament. I shall endeavour also, before I come, to see Dr. Warren My dear sir, though I hope and tr'ust that your last decay of flesh and strength is no more than that which you experienced pre- viously to your going to Bath first, and may be recovered by^the same means, I should certainly never think it necessary, in talking to you, to dissemble any part of my apprehensions. It is on thf contrary, in consequence of those apprehensions, that 1 am thus Sme'to be loS." ' ''''"' ^°"' *'^* ^°" ^°"'<^ ^^^^ - CORRESPONDENCE. 367 My fear of being too late for the post obliges me to close this without saying more ; nor do I know, indeed, what more could be said. The reason of the case lies in a very small compass. That I have said so much, is the result only of that earnest affection with which I am, my dear sir. Most faithfully and anxiously yours, Wm. Windham. Dr. Laurence to the Bight Hon, Edmund Burke. February 9, 1797. O rem ridiculam, Cato, et jocosam, Digoamque auribus^ et tuo cachinno ! Ride, quicquid amas, Cato, Catullum. And yet I doubt whether I should so begin, for there is one tragical incident in my story. You may have heard that a great Dutch house in the city, that of MuUman, Nantes, and Co. has failed. The occasion is now the talk of the Exchange. They had in their hands 44,000^. received from Holland on account of Mrs. Hastings. This was confidentially entrusted to them during the trial. Now Mrs. Hastings (I suppose wholly without the knowledge of that innocent and persecuted man her husband) began to inquire a little too pressingly when it would be convenient for Messrs. Muilman and Co. to transfer into her own name (I know not whether Imhoff or Hastings) the stock which she supposed to have been purchased with her money. It was all gone. I am sorry to add, Mr. Muil- man, finding an exposure of his affairs unavoidable, shot himself; his partner has disappeared, and the house has broken to pieces. Very few annas in the rupee are expected to be recovered. Remember me to Mrs. Burke. I am just returned from arguing on seven different sides, and have a noble lord just come to me as a client on another interest in the same cause. I scrawl in very great haste. Believe me to be. My dear sir. Ever most gratefully and affectionately yours, FuENCH Laurence. 368 CORRESPONDENCE. The Right Hon. Edmund Burhe to Dr. Laurence. Bath, February 10, 1797. My DEAR Laurence, I have been very weak for some days past, and so giddy that I am hardly able to walk across the room. At the first coming on of this bad symptom I was not able to do so much — so that I am not without hopes that it may go off, though, take me on the whole, I am without all comparison worse than when I came hither, but yet the violent flatus's have not been quite so troublesome to me since the complaint in my head is come on. They have taken the town, and are now attacking the citadel — but enough of this. The affair of Mrs. Hastings has something in it that might move a third Cato to a horse-laugh, though the means, I am afraid, by which she and her paramour have made that and all the sums which they have got by their own dishonesty, or lost by the dis- honesty of others or the confusion of the times, [might cause] the laughing Democritus to weep as much as his opponent : but let whoever laugh or weep, nothing will make Mr. Pitt or Mr. Dundas blush for having rewarded the criminal whom they prosecuted, and sent me and nineteen members of parliament to prosecute, for every mode of peculation and oppression, with a greater sum of money than ever yet was paid to any one British subject, except the Duke of Marlbro', for the most acknowledged public services, and not to him if you take Blenheim, which was an expense and not a charge out of the account. All this and ten times more will not hinder them from adding the peerage, to make up the insuffi- ciency of his pecuniary rewards. My illness, which came the more heavily and suddenly upon me by this flagitious act, whilst I was preparing a representation upon it, has hindered me, as you know, from doing justice to that act, to Mr. Hastings, to myself, to the House of Lords, to the House of Commons, and to the unhappy people of India, on that subject. It has made me leave the letters that I was writing to my lord chancellor and Mr. Dundas, as well as my petition to the House of Commons, unfinished. But you remember, likewise, that when I came hither at the beginning of last summer, I repeated to you that dying request which I now reiterate, That if at any time, without the danger of ruin to your- self, or over-distracting you from your professional and parlia- mentary duties, you can place in a short point of view, and support by the documents in print and writing which exist with me, or with Mr. Troward, or yourself, the general merits of this transaction, you will erect a cenotaph most grateful to my shade, and will clear CORRESPONDENCE. 369 my memory from that load, which the East India Company, king, lords, and commons, and in a manner the whole British nation (God forgive them), have been pleased to lay as a monument upon my ashes. I am as conscious as any person can be of the little value of the good or evil opinion of mankind to the part of me that shall remain, but I believe it is of some moment not to leave the fame of an evil example, of the expenditure of fourteen years' labour, and of not less (taking the expense of the suit, and the costs paid to Mr. Hastings, and the parliamentary charges) than near 300,000?. This is a terrible example, and it is not acquittance at all to a pubhc man, who, with all the means of undeceiving himself if he was wrong, has thus with such incredible pains, both of himself and others, persevered in the persecution of innocence and merit. It is, I say, no excuse at all to urge in his apology, that he has had enthusiastic good intentions. In reahty, you know that I am no enthusiast, but [according] to the powers that God has given me, a sober and reflecting man. I have not even the other very bad excuse, of acting from personal resentment, or from the sense of private injury — never having received any ; nor can I plead igno- rance, no man ever having taken more pains to be informed. There- fore / say, Bemember. Parliament is shortly to resume the broken thread of its business — if what it is doing deserves that name. I feel the same anxiety for your success as if what has been the best part of me was in your place, and engaged as he would have been in the same work, and I presume to take the same liberty with you that I would have done with him. The plan you have formed, like all the plans of such comprehensive minds as yours, is vast, but it will require all the skill of a mind as Judicious and selecting as youi-s, to bring it within the compass of the apprehensions and dispositions of those upon whom it is to operate. There would be difficulty in giving to it its just extent in the very opening, if you could count even upon one person able and willing to support you ; but as you will be attacked by one side of the House with all its force, reluctantly heard and totally abandoned by the other, if you are permitted any reply at all, a thing which under similar circumstances has been refused to me, it will not be heard by the exhausted attention of that House, which is hardly to be kept alive, except to what con- cerns the factious interests of the two discordant chiefs, who with different personal views, but on the same political principles, divide and distract the nation. But all this I must leave to your judg- ment, which, with less parliamentary experience, has infinitely more natural power than mine ever had, when it was at the best. This, only, I shall beg leave to suggest, that if it should be VOL. II. B b 370 CORRESPONDENCE. impossible (as perhaps it may be) to bring your opening speech within any narrow compass, such as two hours, or thereabouts, that you will make your reply as sharp and pointed at the personal attacks, that I am sure will be made upon you, as you can ; and that you will content yourself with reasserting the substance of the facts, declaring your readiness to enter into them if ever you are furnished with the means. I have no doubt that in the course of the debate, or in this session, you will find opportunities to bring forth what your discretion may reserve on the present occasion for a future one, when you may be at more liberty. Though I am sensible enough of the difficulty of finding a place in debate for any of those who are not arranged in the line of battle, abreast or ahead, in support of the one or the other of the great admirals. My dear friend, you will have the goodness to excuse the interposi- tion of an exhausted and sickly judgment like mine, at its best infirm, with a mind like yours, the most robust that ever was made, and in the vigour of its faculties ; but allowance is made for the anxious solicitude of those, whom sex, age, or debihty exclude from a share in those combats in which they take a deep concern. Yours ever, Edmund Bueke. February 12. P.S. My health continues as it was when I began this letter. — I have read Erskine's pamphlet, which is better done than I expected to find it. But it is little more than a digest of the old matter, and a proposal to remove all our evils by a universal popular representation at home, by giving to France at once all that we have thought proper to offer, on supposition of concession, and all that she has chosen to demand without any regard to our concession, together with a cordial connexion with her and a total alienation from other powers, as a pledge of future peace. This, together with bringing Mr. Fox into power, forms the whole of the pamphlet. This would certainly make short work of the treaty. — This pamphlet does not make your motion the less necessary, and without a reference to it you may keep it in your eye. — Mrs. Burke, thank God, is better of her cold : she salutes you. Dear Sie, I have suppressed the newspapers — he knows nothing of this dis- agreeable business ; but I am in hopes, from Dr. King's letter to me, that an injunction will be laid early to-morrow to prevent the sale, and that you all will pursue such rigorous measures against CORRESPONDENCE. 371 Swift and Owen as the law will enable you to do. I had a letter by the coach informing me of it. — Will you beg of Doctor King to write to Mr. Burke to-morrow, and tell him what he has done in Rivington's business. Yours truly, E. Nagle. Right Hon. Wm. Windham to tlie Right Hon. Edmund Burke. February 11, 1797. My dear Sir, I write this from Reading, where I arrived in time to have pro- ceeded to the Speaker's \ from whom I have found a note, offering me a bed, and informing me that I should probably meet Mr. Pitt there. I feel, however, more disposed at present to remain where I am ; and I should, besides, have lost the opportunity of shooting back this Parthian arrow at you. I shall join them in the morning, and try my hand, but with little prospect of the effect it will produce, to raise our counsels to some nobler pitch than any they have flown to hitherto. We soar no Pindaric heights ; and I am afraid are now likely to sink lower and lower, and never to rise again in the face of this GalUc falcon. My hopes are in you and General Hoche. The recipes are rather of an opposite nature, but may conspire to the same end. To reahze one part of them, as well as for every reason, public and private, let me entreat you, my dear sir, to avail yourself of what- ever skill and prudence can do for your recovery, and as a main article of that prudence at present, to put yourself fairly in the hands of Dr. Parry. With best respects to Mrs. B., and compliments to all who are with you. I am, my dear sir. Your most faithful and affectionate humble servant, W. Windham. The Right Hon. Edmv/nd Burke to Dr. Laurence. Bath, February 15, 1797. My dear Laurence, On seeing the advertisement in the newspaper, all newspapers and all letters have been kept back from me till this time. Mrs. Burke ' Mr. Addington, afterwards Viscount Sidmouth. B b 2 372 CORRESPONDENCE. opened yours, and finding that all the measures in Dr. King's, yours, and Woodford's power had been taken, she ventured to deliver me the letters of to-day, which were read to me in my bed about two o'clock. This affair does vex me, but I am not in a state of health at present to be deeply vexed with any thing. Whenever this matter comes into discussion, I authorize you to contradict the infamous reports which Doctor Brocklesby tells me are given out by the opposition, " which are, that this paper had been long circulated through the ministry, and was intended gra- dually to slide into the press." I never had a clean copy of it but one, which is now in my possession, and never communicated that but to the Duke of Portland, from whom I had it back again. But the duke will set this matter to rights, if in reality there were two copies and he has one. I never showed it, as they know, to any one of the ministry. I never gave a copy of it even to Lord FitzwilHam. If the Duke of Portland has really a copy, I believe his and mine are the only ones that exist, except what was taken by fraud from loose and incorrect papers by that villain Swift, to whom I gave the letter to copy. As soon as I began to suspect him capable of any fraud and breach of trust, you know with what anxiety I got the loose papers out of his hands, not having reason to think that he kept any other. Nor I believe in fact, unless he meditated this villany long ago, that he did [possess] or now possess[esJ any clean copy. You [may] tell this to Brocklesby, to whom I have not time to write. I never communicated that paper to any one out of the very small circle of those private friends from whom I concealed nothing. But I beg you and my friends to be cautious how you let it be understood, that in disclaiming this publication and circulation, I do not retract any one of the senti- ments contained in that memorial, which was and is my justifica- tion, addressed to the friends for whose use alone I intended it. Had I intended it for the public, I should have been more exact and full. It is written in a tone of indignation against the resolu- tions of the Whig Olub, which were directly pointed against myself and others who seceded from that club, which is the last act of my life that I shall ever repent of '. Many temperaments and explana- tions there would have been, if ever I had a notion that it should meet the public eye. But no wonder that sueji villajns as Owen should proceed as they do, when our courts of justice seem by their proceedings to be in league with every kind of fraud and injustice. They proceed as if they had an intricate settlement of 10,000?. a year to discuss in an affair that might as well be decided in three ' The expression is ambiguous, but the writer's meaning clearly is, that his recession from the Whig Club is the act of his life, which he shall the last repent of. \. ' -•■-.- CORRESPONDENCE. 373 weeks as in three hundred years. They let people die while they are looking for redress, and then all the proceedings are to begin over again by those who may think they have an interest in them. While one suit is pending, they give knaves an opportunity of repeating their offences and of laughing at them and their justice, as well they may. I wish heartily that, if the lawyers are of opinion that they may spin out this mockery a year or two longer, I may not vex my dying hours in fruitless chicane, but let the villany, which their maxims countenance, take its course. As to any relief in the other courts, I have been in them, and would not trust the fame and fortune of any human creature to them if I could possibly help it. I have tried their justice in two cases of my own, and in one, in which I was concerned with others in a public prosecution, when they suffered the House of Commons in effect to have the tables turned on them, and under colour of a defendant to be criminated for a malicious prosecution. I know them of old, and am only sorry at my present departure, that I have not had an opportunity of painting them in their proper colours. Why should not the court of chancery be able to know whether an author gives an imperfect copy to a printer to be published whether he will or no, and has not left "himself master of his own thoughts and reflections ? This is the very case made by the wretch himself, but a court can't decide in years whether this thing ought to be done or not. In the mean time he enjoys the profits of his villany, and defies them by villanies of the same ' kind and to the same person. But I allow that it is better that even this kind of justice should exist in the country, than none at all. — Adieu. I am now in my third dose of physic which I have taken in the course of thirty-six hours. The symptoms of my disease are quite changed. I have hardly any excitation, but my strength, rest, and flesh, are gone. Nothing goes through me. I cannot walk alone from my couch to my bed. The giddiness is not the effect of the Bath waters, for I do not drink them, nor have except for two days in the beginning, and when I had no giddiness. The opiates I have totally left off. Yet things remain where they were. I am perfectly satisfied with my physician, both in point of skill and profession ; but nature is too strong for him, and I grow worse hourly. — What day is fixed for your motion ? ''I suppose the oppo- sition have not neglected this affair of Ireland, and the ministers well deserve whatever may happen, from the insolent manner in which they received the warnings of Mr. Fox, particularly as what he said was no more than a repetition of what they chose to forget. Yours ever, E. BuEKE. 374 CORRESPONDENCE. Bight Hon. Wm. Windham to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke. Friday, six o'clock, February 17, 1797- My deau Sib, You may imagine what our anxiety is, when your fate almost may hang upon the report which each day may bring. Dr. Parry's opinion has every air of being right. God grant that your strength may hold out, so as to give a fair chance to the course that he is pursuing *. In such a state of uncertainty about what is so infinitely precious, one has no heart to talk much about other things ; I should, otherwise, like to tell you, that the paper, which villany has thus brought out, is received in a manner which could leave you nothing to regret, but the havoc it is making with the character and credit of Mr. Fox '. One hardly knows what to wish upon that subject; but with respect to you nothing can be more satisfactory. Mr. Pitt, with whom I first saw it, when we met at the Speaker's, was not only highly gratified with it (more, perhaps, than one would wish him to be), but thought it a model of the sort of style in which it was written ; and which, by the way, when it suits the subject, is more forcible than any other, and always accords more with the general taste. Another satisfactory circumstance, which I should like to dilate to you, in the midst of an ocean of calamity, is the manner in which the fatal reverses in Italy have been received at Vienna. No despondency, no change or relaxation of purpose ; a determination to pursue the war to the last extremity. The secretary of Sir Charles Whitworth, too, who is come over from Petersburgh, gives hopes of the Emperor of Russia. But of that, when you hear that he is an illumine, your hopes, any more than mine (notwithstanding many favourable circumstances), wiU not be sanguine. Ever, my dear sir, Most faithfully yours, W. Windham. ' Mr. Burke had just gone to Bath. ' Mr. Windham alludes to the surreptitious publication by a dishonest amanuensis, under the title of " Fifty-four articles of impeachment against the Right Hon. C. J. Fox," of Mr. Burke's "Observations on the Conduct of the Minority," written in 1793 and sent in a private letter to the Duke of Portland for his grace's use only. The letter and the " Observations," are pubUshed in the 5th volume of this edition. COKRESPONDENCK. 375 The Bight Hon. Edmund Burhe to Dr. Laurence. Bath, March 5, 1797- My dear Laurence, I AM extremely pleased that, under whatever disadvantages of time and preparation, you have made your debut : I am pleased hkewise with the short reply you made, and it was sufficient to the miserable buffoonery which was the only answer that could be made to you. I shall send you as a postscript to this, a copy of what Mr. Wind- ham has written to Mr. Nagle on occasion of that commencement. You do not tell me how you voted on the Irish question. Since you could not be heard till three o'clock, I am glad you did not attempt to speak, though I much approve the line you proposed to take. The invasion of Ireland, as an unforeseen event, could not be better provided for ; but it was an event that ought not to have been unforeseen. Herein is placed the true gist of the question. As to the armed neutrality who were coquetting with you some time since, 'tis, I conceive, composed principally of the persons of which it was formed in the last parliament. They are a body without sense and without principle, and are and can be true to nothing. They are utterly unfit to form that third party of your constituent and j'our country, which you hinted at with so much propriety. If any of them speak a word to you again upon any public business, you ought to answer with all the coldness and reserve that is pos- sible. I look upon tiers parties to be in themselves things very critical, sometimes very necessary, but that cannot, and perhaps ought not, to endure long. That division of party which I loved and trusted, did for some time form that tertium quid, but, through the error of the excellent person who then led them, they were, or rather he was, not neutral, but perplexed and inconsistent. When it joined ministry, it neither could or ought to preserve its neutrality, but it ought to preserve its credit and coherence, and to have given a new bias to the body to which it was aggregated. How that came to fail we all know but too well. I am far from being sure that time and events may not make up a new party, but it can never be from altogether the same elements. I am exceedingly mortified at this scheme of issuing small paper. Still more so at the repeal, or temporary suspension, which will lead to more suspen- sions, of two most salutary acts of parliament made to prevent the abuse of private credit, which abuse so strongly militates against the use of public credit, and perhaps, now at this time more than ever. It prevents all possible operation of the certain remedy which the evil would have furnished to itself. Had I been in par- 376 CORRESPONDENCE. liament and in my strength, I should most certainly have spoke and voted against these, I apprehend, fatal measures. All the circum- stances of Sir John Jervis's affair render it a very brilliant piece of service, but still the naval power of the common enemy is not materially impaired. The French armament from Holland is a serious matter, if we have no fleet in the Downs, as I suspect we have not. At any rate it is sufficient to prove the utter insufiiciency of a passive defence, whether by sea or land, for the protection of these countries, or for sustaining their credit. — As I have now some moments of ease, though more reduced in my flesh than ever, and that I fall away every day, I have a mind to anticipate in part the work I was preparing, and in a letter to .you or to some other friend, if you should think it not advisable to address it to you, I might give rather results and conclusions, than formal detailed dis- cussions against the plans of armament which can end in nothing but our ruin. All these false and ill- understood precautions against danger serve only to augment the public alarm, to waste the resources of the country, and to destroy the vital principles of public credit. How comes it that we have no established course of intelligence, which I am sure, easily might have been had, in Hol- land ; but I strongly suspect that amongst all our expenditures very little is laid out in this way. — To say a word of myself, though falling away to a shadow, I find my little strength rather increased than impaired, and my nights, thank Grod, are unusually good — • not having had a bad one for these last four past, and the two last quite as good as in my best health. I am taken once in about seven or eight days with a vomiting, which gives me great tem- porary relief, but contributes at the same time to emaciate me more than any thing else, even more than the purging, which is the only means by which I can be kept open — for I don't know what the medium is, in this respect. God bless you. Eemember me affectionately to Lord Fitzwilliam, and with all gratitude. Mrs. Burke is better of the rash which had broken out upon her, and she does not seem, thank God, to be in other respects worse. I am ever Most affectionately yours, E. B. Extract from Mr. Windham's Letter to Mr. Nagle. " Dr. Laurence's first performance, you may tell Mr. Burke, succeeded perfectly well. He keeled a little in the launching ; which gave me some minutes' anxiety. But he soon righted, when he touched the water, and showed, as he is, a grand first rate." CORRESPONDENCE. 377 The Bight Hon. Edmwnd BurJce to Dr. Laurence. March 16, 1797. My dear Lattrencb, It is very unlucky that the reputation of a speaker in the House Commons depends far less on what he says there, than on the account of it in the newspapers. Your speeches, which are made late in the night, supposing no foul play, (which however I suspect,) are taken by the journeymen note-makers, and when there is not room for them in the paper, even if they were able to follow you. In the late instance, however, this was unavoidable, since you spoke to vindicate the reputation of your friend, which no consideration of prudence with regard to yourself could prevail on you to omit. As you stated [it] in your letter, it must have been very impressive, and as honourable to your abilities, as it was to the goodness of your heart. As to Mr. Fox's speeches, he seemed to have laid [aside] his abilities along with all decency, liberality, and fairness ; and placed himself in the rank of the Adairs, the Bastards, and those gentlemen whose cause he supported, and to whose understandings, " by an extraordinary alacrity in sinking," he chose to level himself. What he said of me was nothing more than his old song, frequently sung, though with a little more liberality in my own presence, and always responded to without a possibility of reply. The major part of his topics have been answered by me in print, and the public must judge between us ; but there is one fact, which as it passed fifteen years ago most people may not so well remember; though that too I dis- cussed with him in the House of Commons without a reply, or the possibility of his making any. He has the impudence to say that the reduction of places that I made was not sufiBcient, and that more would have been made in Lord Rockingham's and his administration, if time had been given to them for that purpose. Both are absolutely false ; — In the first place, any lessening of the reduction proposed in my original plan and that which appeared in the act, was not of my doing, but of his own, and the ca- binet to which he belonged ; and I was no way consulted about it, though I certainly acquiesced in it, and, on the whole, thought it sufficient. In the next place, I do solemnly declare that I never heard him, nor any body else of that cabinet, propose any reduction of ofiices, but of the two were of opinion that the matter had been carried too far, rather than that it had fallen short of their mark. They must have thought that it did not fall short, because they knew very well that they never could have had an opportunity 378 CORRESPONDENCE. SO favourable for reduction as during the dependence of that bill, and in the flood-tide of its popularity. Mr. Fox now thinks that neither this, nor the Pay-Office Bill, nor the Contractors' Bill, which, though moved by another, ' was left wholly to my management, as it was originally schemed by myself, nor of Mr. Dowdeswell's and my plan, to his and our honour adopted by Mr. Crewe, were of the least significance in lessening the influence of the crown in that House, and in the other, or in the Scotch election for peers by the abrogation of the Scotch lords of police. I know he told me, and that to the best of my recollection in the presence of others, that the acts which he now finds to be so very frivolous were the means of turning out Lord Lansdowne, and that he had lost his question in the same number of votes as the places that had been suppressed. As to those that had been retained, he perfectly agreed with me both in the policy and the justice of retaining them, considering them as I did as right in themselves ; and with regard to the holders in possession or rever- sion, as property, to all intents and purposes. I cannot say exactly in what form Mr, Rose put the recriminatory charge which he made on Mr. Fox with regard to the places of that kind, which Mr. Fox had held, and disposed of. Mr. Fox's reply seems to indicate that he was charged with squandering away their income and value. If so, his reply was proper, because the charge was unparliamentary, and not at all to the purpose in argument. But if it was urged, as it ought to have been, that Mr. Fox had himself considered those places his property, as an argument ad hominem, it would have been conclusive against him. For if he sold that as property which was not such, by his own admission he was guilty of a fraud. But it were an endless task to go through aU the non- sense and ribaldry which he chose to vent upon that occasion. As to his arguing for a change of his opinions from the greater burdens which now exist on the public, 'tis perfectly absurd — First, because injustice is not less injustice, though it may admit some palliation on account of the necessities of those who are guilty of it; and next, because those remnants of remnants of savings, which Mr. Windham has so justly ridiculed, become more and more contemptible according to their disproportion to the weight of the charge which they are brought to counterpoise. He has used another argument which seems to have more weight, which is, that it may be necessary for maintaining the character and credit of the opposition ; but at a miserably low ebb is that character and credit which is obliged to have recourse to such frauds and impos- tures. Mr. Pitt was very wrong in giving to them the countenance he had given, and which, after the able speech he had made, was CORRESPONDENCE. 379 no proper conclusion to be drawn from his arguments. Mr. Wind- ham, in my opinion, even from what I see in the papers, never made a more able and eloquent speech. I particularly admire the manly tone of scorn with which he treated the miserable impos- ture of the motion. I thank him heartily for his speech, and subscribe an unfeigned assent and consent to all the articles of his creed. I forgot to say a word about fees, which it seems is one of the articles of charge against Mr. Windham''s office. Whether they be exorbitant or not, is more than I can judge, but that they are profitable to the officer is no objection, provided they are not onerous to the public, or oppressive to those that pay them. This was so much my principle upon the reform, that I carefully reserved the fees to the pay-office ; but in the progress of the bill I was absolutely forced by the frauds of Colonel Barre, acting on the principles of Lord Shelburne, who attributed every sort of public evil to fees, in a famous speech of his, and by the unparalleled treachery of our own party I was beat out of my plan, and com- pelled, whether I would or not, to bring from that abolition a charge of 6000Z. a year, or rather more, upon the public, for the official expenses which before had cost nothing, except for the paymaster's salary and some other salaries, which latter were insignificant. Whether the office has been impaired in its diligence and its spirit of accommodation from that time is more than I can positively say, but I believe that it has. I am sorry to have troubled you so much on these matters, but as they relate to facts which may not be so generally known, I wish you not to throw away this letter. I have no objection to your showing it to any body, but do not desire it to be shown to any one but Lord Fitzwilliam and Mr. Windham. As to you, " Macte esto virtute tua"- — -don't be discouraged from taking the independent line, which makes you vote with different men, but always upon the same principle, and not like these vile and most abject wretches who compose the armed neutrality ; who, if they were not the most contemptible of the human race, would be the most odious. — Thank God, you have but one political friendship to attend to, and in that you will never find any clashing with public principle. — As you are stiU solicitous about my health, I am to tell you that to-day has been one of my best days ; and though I can't walk without an arm, I have moved about a good deal, at least a good deal for me. Flesh as before. Adieu. Yours ever, E. B. P.S. Will the gentlemen do any thing in my affair with Owen — or liave they given it up ? If they have given it up, why is it so ? 380 CORRESPONDENCE. The Right Hon. Edmimd Burke to the Bight Hon. Wm. Windham. Bath, March 30, 1797- My dear Friend, Though my mind is full indeed of all that is going on, in a strange kind of harmony of discord, between both sides of the House, I thought it unnecessary to trouble you with any of my melancholy reflections upon tha|; sad subject. The opposition have never manifested, at least not in so great a degree, or so avowedly, their ill-intentions to their country, as to its credit, its finances, or its policy, — I may almost say, to its being. They have gone so far as to attempt to force the bank paper, which they had done every thing to depreciate, upon the soldiers and the sailors ; and thus, by discontenting these descriptions, to leave it without an army or a navy, or perhaps, what would be worse, an army and navy full of mutiny and sedition. To the plausible part of their objec- tions an answer is made ; but nothing is said, within or without the House, to expose the designs which have given rise to this sort of discussion. In debate, as in war, we confine ourselves to a poor, disgraceful, and ruinous defensive. What is the reason that Mr. Pitt does not avow the principle of a firm and effective alliance with the emperor? Why does he continually postpone a full decla- ration of his sentiments on that head"? Why does he suffer an ally of Great Britain, who, while he is such is an integrant part of the strength of Great Britain, and in a manner part of Great Britain itself, to be called a foreign power, and the assistance afforded him to be considered as money thrown away, as if we had no relation whatsoever to him ? Since we are resolved to make no active use of our own forces, he is the only energetic portion of the British power ; and the question is, whether, in such a war as this, we ought to disarm that portion of our strength which alone discovers any life. The consequence of all this must be as fatal to Mr. Pitt as to the king and the nation. He cannot make peace, because he will not make war. He will be beaten out of all his intrenchments. The enemy is turning his flanks. I find he is left alone to make his defence, and perhaps he chooses to be so ; but it has a very ill aspect to those who speculate on the duration of a ministry. These speculators multiply. They increase the con- fidence of the leaders of opposition, and they add to the number of their followers. All this arises, as I conceive, from Mr. Pitt's considering the part he has taken in this war as the effect of a dire necessity, and not of a manly and deliberate choice. But when a man shows no zeal for his own cause, we are not to be surprised CORRESPONDENCE. 381 that no others will show any zeal for his person. He would not consider those who are attached to him from principle to be his friends, and he will find that he has a very insecure hold of those whose attachment is wholly without principle. They who make a man an idol, when he is off his pedestal will treat him with all the contempt with which blind and angry worshippers treat an idol that is fallen. You are the only person who has taken a manly part ; and I can truly assure you, that your enemies are so far from being exaspe- rated, that they are rather softened by this conduct. It is the only conduct that can mitigate the animosity of enemies like yours. Ireland is in a truly unpleasant situation. The government is losing the hearts of the people, if it has not quite lost them, by the falsehood of its maxims, and their total ignorance in the art of governing. The opposition in that country, as well as in this, is running the whole course of Jacobinism, and losing credit amongst the sober people, as the other loses credit with the people at large. It is a general bankruptcy of reputation in both parties. They must be singularly unfortunate who think to govern by dinners and bows, and who mistake the oil which facihtates the motion, for the machine itself. It is a terrible thing for government to put its con- fidence in a handful of people of fortune, separate from all holdings and dependencies. A full levee is not a complete army. I know very well that when they disarm a whole province, they think that all is well ; but to take away arras, is not to destroy disaffection. It has cast deep roots in the principles and habits of the majority amongst the lower and middle classes of the whole Protestant part of Ireland. The Catholics, who are intermingled with them, are more or less tainted. In the other parts of Ireland, (some in Dublin only excepted,) the Catholics, who are in a manner the whole people, are as yet sound : but they may be provoked, as all men easily may be, out of their principles. I do not allude to the granting or withholding the matters of privilege, &c., which are in discussion between them and the Castle. In themselves, I consider them of very little moment, the one way or the other. But the principle is what sticks with me ; which principle is the avowal of a direct determined hostility to those who compose the infinitely larger part of the people ; and that part, upon whose fidelity, let what will be the thought of it, the whole strength of government ultimately rests. But I have done with this topic, and perhaps for ever, though I receive letters from the fast friends of the Catholics to solicit government here to consider their true interests. Neglect, contumely, and insult, were never the ways of keeping friends ; and they had nothing to force against an enemy. 382 COEKESPONDENCE. I suspect, though Woodford has said nothing of it, and perhaps the more for his having said nothing of it, that the perfidious and cowardly design of destroying the French corps ' in our service still goes on. A part of the aim, I suspect, is at yourself. It v^^ill un- doubtedly require the utmost diligence and firmness, as well as so much temper as can consist with those quahties, to carry you through. God Almighty direct you, for this matter is almost above my hand. It is evident that the opposition have directly, and without any management at all, embraced the French interests, and mean to shake our credit and resources at home, and destroy all possibihty of connexion abroad. It is equally plain that, except by yourself, they are not met manfully upon either of these grounds. Their best' fire is only to cover a retreat. What is the reason that Gifibrd's book is not strongly recommended and circulated by them ' and theirs 1 There are but a very few pages in that book to which I do not heartily subscribe ; but they ought to subscribe to the whole of it, unless they choose to be considered as criminals soliciting for a pardon, rather than as innocent men making a defence. However, I have great satisfaction in telling you that your manly way of proceeding augments the number of your favourers every day ; and not only your nature, but your policy, will induce you to proceed in the same course. I have attempted to resume my work, but the variable state of my health continually calls me from it ; otherwise, our scheme of defence, founded solely upon fear and meanness, would not be persisted in. Adieu ! and believe me ever with the truest, most affectionate, and most grateful attachment. My dear friend. Yours, most sincerely, Edm. Buuke. Five o'clock. My last night was pretty good, but I have not passed an equally good day. My strength, however, improves. Otherwise, I make no great progress. Mrs. Burke, thank God, is, on the whole, rather better than when we came here. " The corps of French emigrants. ' %. e. the best fire of the ministers, * " Them " no doubt means the government. CORRESPONDENCE. 383 The Right Rev. Dr. Hussey^ to the Right Hon. Edmund BurJce. Waterford, April 2, 1797. My ever dear Friend, Your letter of the 29th March, which I received yesterday, was a cordial to me in this my honourable exile. Though your bodily in- firmity forced you to employ another hand to write it, yet the sentiments were your own — " Spiritus intus alit ;" and Providence still preserves you for some wise and weighty purpose. You need not regi-et not having seen my letter to Mrs. Burke upon a late false report regarding you ; as it was written in the most cordial paroxysm of grief, the sentiments it contained were probably unfit for any eye. I sent it to Mr. King, who very properly returned it to me unopened. I have not had the smallest commu- nication with the Castle since my complaints of the compulsion employed to whip the Catholic military to Protestant worship. Scarce a Sunday passes without instances of this outrage occurring in some part of this country. Our friend, Dr. Moylan, had an audience two months ago of the lord-lieutenant, to show him a letter from his vicar-general, the parish priest of Kinsale, complaining that two privates of the Sligo militia, for refusing to assist at Protestant worship, were tried the next day by a court-martial, and sentenced to * * * ' lashes, and I am told that one of them is since dead of his wounds. His excellency treated the affair with such coldness, and the reception was such, that Dr. Moylan, whom you know to be one of the meekest and most humble of mankind came away quite disgusted. The instances are so frequent in this diocese of this impolitic tyranny, that, when I convened the clergy of my communion, it was one of the articles of my pastoral charge to them, to use all their spiritual power to resist it. The whole of my pastoral letter, which is a short one, and intended only as a preface to a longer one, will be printed in a week, and a copy of it shall be sent for you, under Mr. King's cover. I know that its contents will not be acceptable to some ; but I am come hither, not to flatter my enemies, but to do my duty. I have not, nor will I ever resign the presidency of Maynooth. As I receive neither salary nor emolument from it, I feel no dishonour, and I see the necessity of holding it, at least until the plan be finally settled. As to the commission which you desire me not to give up, I still hold it without ever having inquired whether any, or what salary is annexed to it. Enough for me, that it contains his majesty's sig- ' Dr. Hussey was, at this time, Roman Catholic Bishop of Waterford. ' The number is blank in the MS. 384 COREESPONDENCE. nature, to whom I am attached, not only as every subject ought to be, but also from personal considerations, for the honourable men- tion which he has graciously condescended to make of me at different times. I have not said any thing about these last circum- stances to Mr. Windham. Have the goodness to direct me. I am, with unalterable respect and friendship, Ever faithfully yours, Thomas Hussey. The Bight Hon. William Windham to the Bight Hon. Edmvmd Burke. Fulham, Apiil 25, 1797. My dear Sir, I cannot help troubling you with a few lines to enforce the purpose, which you appeared to have formed when I left you, — of putting out a short letter on the measures necessary to be taken for the immediate safety of the country ; or, at least, with a view to any thing like a successful termination of the war. The danger is coming thundering upon us, and, as far as I can perceive, will find us miserably unprepared, in means as well as in spirit, for such a crisis as it is likely to bring with it. When the fund of submission fails us, we have no other ; and it seems that, liberally as we are disposed to draw upon that resource, there is not much more than it can yield us. Though the East Indies should follow the West, though Ceylon and the Cape should go the same road as Martinico, St. Domingo, and all the splendid possessions that we have pur- chased at the expense of the forces by which they were to be retained, yet it is not clear that the enemy will vouchsafe us peace ; and still less clear is it, that the country could survive such a peace three years. In this state it seems impossible, at least it is not to be wished, that the country should go on long vdthout some great struggle, — a struggle to throw off this load of peccant matter that oppresses it, and to set the vital powers free, if they yet retain sufficient force and spring to recover us from the state of debility to which we are reduced. The idea of a country perishing, as we are doing, not by the course of nature, not by the decay of any vital part, hardly even 'by disease or sickness, but by the constraint of a situation, in which all our powers are rendered useless, and all our efforts serve only to exhaust ourselves, is more horrible than any other mode of ruin ; and recalls to one's thoughts what I recoUect to have read of, a year or two ago, of a man, who, having wedged his hand in a rock on the sea-shore, was held there till the tide flowed over and drowned CORRESPONDENCE. 385 him. We are fixed in a similar cleft ; and here, I fear, we shall remain struggling, and beating ourselves to pieces, till the great revolutionary tide pours over us, and vsfhelms us, never to be heard of more. I cannot but think, therefore, at such a moment, a letter like that vsrhich you had in contemplation would be of the most season- able use, by showing to the country a way in which its zeal and energy, if it has any, may find vent. I have but little doubt that there is in the country a considerable deal of energy ; at least, in comparison of any thing that has yet appeared. But it is the want of knowing how to exert it that has repelled and kept it down. The common feeling of people is, and that which sinks them into inaction and despondency, that there is nothing to be done ; that every means have been tried, or, at least, that none now remains. The idea of offensive war is so totally lost ; the means of such a war appear so totally exhausted ; the ignorance of the people is so complete, or rather, their ideas are so false, of the state of things in the maritime provinces, and of the effects to be produced there, if we were really to direct our efforts on that side, that they never will conceive, of themselves, the possibility of such a war, nor ever, I fear, be brought to it, except by being made to understand, that peace is absolutely unattainable, and that an attack upon the coast of France is the only means of defence. It must, after all, be confessed, that when the whole force of France, and all its dependencies shall be transferred to this side, the dispositions of the royalists, aided by all the efforts that we can make, will find it sufficiently difficult to produce any effect. Still it is the only chance, and that which affords you the benefit of other chances ; — the commotions, namely, which may be expected in other parts of France, and which such diversion is most likely to bring on as well as turn to account. I have not an idea, while I am stating this, that such a plan will ever be attempted by the present cabinet, nor would the attempt of bringing the country to such ideas be made with most advantage in their persons. But necessity may bring on something of the sort. Attempts continually made on our coasts may lead in the end to a return ; commotions in France may again raise the Vendue and the Ohouans; and thus a war be gradually formed, in which the royalists of both countries may find themselves united against that union, which has long taken place between the Jacobins of the two coun- tries. The difficulty, I fear, will be to find the royalists here. It will hardly be in Mr. Fox and his friends ; and I do not think that among Mr. Pitfs friends, the spirit of royalty burns with too bright a flame. VOL. II. c c 386 COREESPONDENCE. The business of the fleet is as well over as such a thing can be ^ I am almost inclined to wish that the Admiralty had refused to comply, and tried the bringing home Jervis's fleet to stop any attempt of the mutineers to carry the fleet to the enemy ; depending upon the dissensions that would have arisen among them, and the dread of consequences, when they had time to contemplate them, for reducing them to submission in the mean time. What news may be in London at present, I don't know, as I write this from Fulham. The last gives the possibility of some turn that may save the emperor from immediate submission ; but it is only a possibility. One anecdote of the emperor I cannot forbear mentioning. When his courtiers were besieging him with demands for peace, and urging that Vienna must fall, he answered by saying, " Eh bien ! esi^ce que Vienne est Tempire ?" The emperor and Thugut, however, are the only persons who stand upon that ground. I believe we also have an emperor here to do the same : but where is the Thugut ? Farewell ! my dear sir. To keep as distant as possible one of the great calamities of the time, take care of yourself ; conform to Dr. Parry's directions ; and, I should still be inclined to add, con- sent, now that you are going on so well, to let Dr. Fraser be pre- pared with a knowledge of your case. I do not see what levity there could be in this ; and I certainly see the chance, at least, of some advantage. I am, my dear sir, most truly yours, Wm. Windham. Let me beg you to add my best respects to Mrs. Burke, and compliments to the rest of your family. The Bev. Dr. Hussey to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burhe. Waterford, May 9, 1797- My dearest Friend, I was in a distant part of this diocese when your last kind letter of the 27th of April * arrived. I can now more accurately give you the information you asked. There are only ninety-seven Catholic priests in the diocese, of whom thirty-nine are parish priests. Their parishes are, almost all, unions of two, and some three, parishes ; and in each parish is a very decent chapel. Some of the parishes — for instance, two of those in Waterford, that of ' The mutiny at the Nore. ° This letter has not been recovered. CORRESPONDENCE. 387 Clonmell and of Dungarvan — contain five thousand communicants ; and that of Oarrick-on-Suir between six and seven thousand. From the best calculation I can make, I infer there are about 280,000 Catholic communicants in the diocese. We do not in general admit any to communion before the age of fifteen. The number of Protestants, of every description, does not exceed 2500, and these are chiefly in Waterford, Clonmell, and Carrick-on-Suir. In the parish of Dungarvan there are but twenty-nine Protestants, besides the parson, his wife and children. In the country parishes scarce any Protestant, except here and there a gentleman, whose wife and children are Protestants, and all the servants Catholics. The peasantry are a quiet, moral, and industrious race ; under- rent for their potatoes, from five to eight pounds per acre, which they endeavour to pay by labour at sixpence per day, besides their food ; whilst the wife fattens a hog or two to pay the re- mainder of their wants. In Waterford they annually kill, from September to June, about 130,000 hogs, which, at the average price of four pounds each, you see, makes 520,000?. The con- sumption of pork in the navy gives them a sure market. I have always been able to establish, in the principal towns, a charity- school in each, to instruct the children of the poor, gratis, in read- ing, writing, and accounts. In the charity-schools of Waterford, the clergy of the establishment wanted to have no catechism taught but the Protestant one, and seemed inclined to assimilate them to the charter-schools ; but the Quakers of this city, who form the most numerous branch of Protestants, and are the most regular tod industrious sect in it, opposed such illiberality, and almost all the clergy of the establishment have withdrawn from it ; and the few among them who subscribed have ceased, one or two excepted, to pay their subscriptions. Almost all the parish priests of the diocese are respected and beloved by their respective flocks, and are, of course, very decently provided for by them. The emoluments of the Catholic bishop are usually between four and five hundred pounds per annum. I declined receiving any, but have appointed an econome to collect them, that they may be em- ployed for the general good of the diocese, in order that my suc- cessor, who probably may not be able to live independent of his place, may not be hurt by me. I shall soon return for a few weeks to London, to settle some private affairs ; but, before I return here, I shall, please Cod, visit you wherever you happen to be. I shall know in London where to meet you. I hope you will assure Mrs. Burke of my respects, and that my attachment for you shall be unalterable until death. Thomas Hussey. c c 2 388 CORRESPONDENCE. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to the Bight Bev. Dr, Hussey. Bath, May 12, 1797. My dear Friend, My not having heard from you, and ray strong suspicion of the uncertainty, not to say the infidehty, of the communication between this and Ireland, makes me fearful of your not having received my last two long letters. I am so anxious about you in your present critical position, that I shall not feel perfectly easy until I hear from you. There is another matter upon my mind, of the greatest magnitude, with regard to your church in Ireland, and indeed to the welfare of all churches, and to the state there, that I would buy, if it were possible, half an hour's discourse with you almost at any price ; but as this cannot be had, I must take the oppor- tunity of some safe hand for submitting to you my sentiments by letter. Adieu ! Pray let me hear every circumstance relative to you, both public and private ; the more minute you are the better. As to me, I am extremely feeble ; but in other respects, thank God, not worse. Pray tell me your mind how far a concession to the Oathohcs at this time, and done with as good a grace as our un- gracious circumstances will admit, might tend to prevent the spreading of the spirit of the north, in the south of Ireland. Cork is not far from you, and a visit there to your worthy brother- bishop might be of use in helping you to form a judgment on this arduous matter. Believe me, ever most truly and affectionately yours, Edm. Burke. The Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Dr. Laurence. Bath, May 12, 1797- My dear Laurence, The times are so deplorable that I do not know how to write about them. Indeed I can hardly bear to think of them. In the selec- tion of these mischiefs, those which have the most recently oppressed and overpowered, rather than exercised the shattered remains of my understanding, are those of the navy, and those of Ireland. As to the first, I shall say nothing except this, that you must remember from the moment the true genius of this French revolution began to dawn upon my mind, I comprehended what it would be in its meridian ; and that I have often said, that I should dread more from one or two maritime provinces in France, in which the spirit CORRESPONDENCE. 389 and principles of that revolution were established, than from the old French monarchy possessed of all that its ambition ever aspired to ; that we should begin to be infected in the first nidus and hot-bed of their infection, the subordinate parts of our military force, and that I should not be surprised at seeing a French convoyed by a British navy to an attack upon this kingdom. I think you must remember the thing and the phrase. I trust in Grod that these mutineers may not as yet have imbrued their hands deeply in blood. If they have, we must expect the worst that can happen. Alas ! for the mis- chiefs that are done by the newspapers, and by the imbecility of the ministers, who neither refuse or modify any concession, nor execute with promptitude the resolutions they take through fear ; but are hesitating and backward, even in their measures of retreat and flight : in truth they know nothing of the manoeuvre either in advance or retreat. The other affair, hardly less perplexing, nor much less instantly urging, is that of Ireland. Mr. Baldwin was here, and he spoke something, though indis- tinctly and confusedly, of a strong desire that he supposed the Duke of Portland to have to be reconciled to Lord FitzwiUiam. Whether this is mere loose talk, such as I have uniformly heard from the day of the fatal nipture, is more than I know. My answer was, that while the cause of this calamitous rupture was yet in its operation, I had done every thing which a man like me could do to prevent it and its effects, but that now the question was not what should reconcile the Duke of Portland to Lord FitzwiUiam, but what would reconcile Ireland to England. This was very near the whole of our conversation. You know he does not see very far, nor combine very much. I have had a hint from another quarter, not indeed very direct, to know whether it was my opinion that a concession to the Irish Catholics would quiet that country. To this I have given no answer, because at this moment I am utterly incapable of giving any, the least distinct. Three months ago, perhaps even two months ago, I can say with confidence, notwithstanding the hand from which it would be offered, it would have prevented the discontents from running into one mass ; even if the compliance had been decently evaded, and future hopes held out, I think these mischiefs would not have happened ; but instead of this every mea- sure has been used that could possibly tend to irritation. The rejection of the memorial was abrupt, final, and without any tem- perament whatsoever. The speeches in the House of Lords in Ireland were in the same strain ; and in the House of Commons, the ministers put forward a wretched brawler, one Duigenan of your profession, to attack Mr. Fox, though they knew that as a British 390 CORRESPONDENCE. member of parliament, he was by them invulnerable ; but their great object was to get him to rail at the whole body of Catholics and Dissenters in Ireland in the most foul and unmeasured language. This brought on, as they might well have expected from Mr. Grattan, one of the most animated philippics which he ever yet delivered, against their government and parliament. It was a speech the best calculated that could be conceived further to inflame the irritation which the Castle-brawler's long harangue must necessayly have produced. As to Mr. Fox, he had aU the honour of the day, because the invective against him was stupid, and from a man of no authority or weight whatsoever ; and the panegyric which was opposed to it, was full of eloquence, and from a great name. The attorney-general, in wishing the motion withdrawn, as I understand, did by no means discountenance the principle upon which it was made, nor disown the attack which was made, in a manner, upon the whole people of Ireland. The solicitor- general went the full length of supporting it. Instead of endea- vouring to widen the narrow bottom upon which they stand, they make it their policy to render it every day more narrow. In the parliament of Great Britain, Lord Grenville's speech turned the loyalty of the Catholics against themselves. He argued from that zeal and loyalty they manifested their want of a sense of any grievance. This speech, though probably well intended, was the most indiscreet and mischievous of the whole. People do not like ■to be put into practical dilemmas. If the people are turbulent and riotous, nothing is to be done for them on account of their evil dispositions. If they are obedient and loyal, nothing is to be done for them, because their being quiet and contented is a proof that they feel no grievance. I know that this declaration has had its natural effect, and that in several places the Catholics think them- selves called upon to deny the inference made by ministers from their good conduct. It seems to them a great insult to convert their resolution to support the king's government into an ap- probation of the conduct of those who make it the foundation of their credit and authority that they are the enemies of their descrip- tion. I send you two extracts of letters, for Lord Fitzwilliam's and your information, from intelligent and well-informed people in Cork * ; * Extract of a Letter from Cork ; dated May 3, 1797. " As to the affairs of this country, I neither know what to say or think of them • hut this I am sorry to be able to assure you of, that there is a rery great and general change in the minds of the people here, brought about within a short period. No more of that enthusiasm of loyalty and detestation of French principles, which pre- vailed so much on the late alarms. It is now ' The English minister and gotemmen.t CORRESPONDENCE. 391 and one of them from a gentleman of much consideration and influence in that place. These will let you see the effect of that conduct which tends to unite all descriptions of persons in the south, in the same spirit of discontent, and in the same bonds of sedition with those of the north. As far as I can find, no part of the army in Ireland is yet tainted with the general spirit ; but under a general discontent it is impossible it should long continue sound ; and even if it did, it is as impossible that such a country can be ruled by a military government, even, if there were no enemy abroad to take advantage of that miserable state of things. Now suffer me to throw down to you my thoughts of what might be expected under the existing circumstances, from the mere grant of an act of parliament for a total emancipation. This measure I hold to be a fundamental part in any plan for quieting that country and reconciling it to this ; but you are well aware that this mea- sure, like every other measure of the kind, must depend on the manner in which it is done, the persons who do it, and the skill and judgment with which the whole is conducted. And first, my clear detest poor Ireland, and would set us to Gutting one another^s throats, as tliey have done in the north,' &C. d-c. In short, such is the language spoken by every man almost you meet, and a great deal worse. Government's ingratitude, in an absolute refusal of any further boon to the Catholics, has roused the resentment of the quietest spirits ; and the severe punishments inflicted in some places on the militia, for going to mass, instead of the Protestant church, is surely, not to give it a worse appellation, impolitic in the extreme." Extract of a Letter from Cork ; dated May 4, 1797. " By the Dublin papers you will see what is going on there. We can expect no remedy from a wretched junto, who are involving their country in certain ruin. A letter from a man in government (whom I cannot mention) to his friend here, laments the infatuation of what he calls the interior cabinet, to which he of the exterior has no access. The great turnings out there give us some hopes of their filling up the mea- sure of their iniquities before it is too late to save us. That interior cabinet must have choked up every channel of communication to the king, or we never could be aban- doned to the situation we are now in. The swearing has reached to Carberry ; and it is said to have got into Blackpool, which is known to be the most Protestant suburb of this city. Roger O'Connor was obliged to fly for his apostleship, and his steward would have been probably convicted at the assizes, had he not put off" his trial. The minds of men are much changed since Christmas. The golden opportunity was lost to government, of assuming the whole merit of granting what is certainly but a small boon. "It must come, in spite of ascendancy, with many other reforms through every department, otherwise the foundation will be undermined. The tithe-folks are hard at work to increase them, and as overbearing as ever. It is astonishing how the interest of the moment can blind them. But until some commutation takes place, the country never can be quiet. " Tithes will ever be one of the most powerful weapons a demagogue can wield. On the whole it appears to me that the minds of men are so heated that nothing but the horrors of revolution can cool them. Many wish for the experiment, and to fly to ills they know not of." 392 CORRESPONDENCE. opinion is, that as long as the present junto continue to govern Ireland, such a measure, into which they must manifestly appear to be reluctantly driven, can never produce the effects proposed by it, because it is impossible to persuade the people that as long as they govern, they will not have both the power and inclination totally to frustrate the effect of this new arrangement, as they have done that of all the former. Indeed it will appear astonishing that these men should be kept in the sole monopoly of all power, upon the sole merit of their resist- ance to the Catholic claims, as inconsistent with the connexion of the two kingdoms ; and yet at the same time to see those claims admitted, and the pretended principle of the connexion of the two countries abandoned, to preserve to the same persons the same monopoly. By this it would appear that the subject is either to be relieved or not ; and the union of the two kingdoms abandoned or maintained, just as it may answer the purposes of a faction of three or four individuals. But if that junto was thrown out to-morrow along with their measure, government has proceeded in such a manner, and committed so many in violent declarations on this subject, that a complete emancipation would no longer pass with its former facility, and a strong ferment would be excited in the church party, who, though but few in numbers, have in their hands most of the ultimate and superior property of the kingdom. These diffi- culties appear to me to be great. Certain it is, that if they were removed, the leaders of the opposition must be taken into their places, and become the object of confidence to an English govern- ment. They are to a man pledged for some alteration in the con- stitution of parliament. If they made no such alteration, they would lose the weight which they have, and which is necessary to quiet the country. If on the other hand they were to attempt a change upon any of the plans of moderation which I hear they have adopted, they would be as far from satisfying the demands of the extravagant people whom they mean to comply with, as they would be in preserving the actual constitution which was fabricated in 1614. The second infallible consequence would be, that if a revolution of this kind (for it would be a revolution) were accomplished in Ireland, though the grounds are a little different, yet the principle is so much the same, that it would be impossible long to resist an alteration of the same kind on this side of the water ; and I never have doubted since I came to the years of discretion, nor ever can doubt, that such changes in this kingdom would be preliminary steps to our utter r;uin : but if I considered them as such at all times, what must they appear to me at a moment like the. present ? I see no way of settling these kingdoms but by a great change in the superior CORRESPONDENCE. 393 government here. If the present administration is removed, it is manifest to me that the Duke of Bedford, and Lord Guilford, and the Duke of Northumberland, and Lord Lansdowne, all, or most of them, under the direction of Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Fox, will be the sole option ; that if they took in the Duke of Portland, they must take him in, at best, in the state of utter insignificance in which unfortunately he now stands. That they would gladly take in my Lord Fitzwilliam I have no question ; but I am sure he would have no support, and never would be suffered to play any principal part, as long as he holds the maxims, and is animated by the sentiments for which, as a statesman, we value him. He certainly would be best in Ireland, but I am very far from being sure that his connexions there would look up to him with the same simple and undivided affection which they formerly did ; and I am equally uncertain whether he would leave behind him a ministry, which in the mass would be better disposed to his sup- port, than those who had formerly betrayed him. Besides, I cannot look without horror, upon his being conjoined (and possibly found in a new reign in such a conjunction) with a ministry who have spared no pains to prove their indifference at least, to the local honour and interest of their country, or to the general liberty of Europe. And, indeed, who have wished to leave no doubt upon any mind, that it is their ambition to act in this country as a subordinate department to the Directory of the French republic. I see no ray of hope but in some sort of coalition between the heads of the factions who now distract us, formed upon a sense of the public danger. But unfortunately their animosity towards each other grows with the danger. I confess that if no such coali- tion is made, and yet that a change should take place, I see in the present ministry and its partisans an opposition far more formidable than that which we have at present ; and that after a while, at least, their principles and their modes of proceeding will not be found very different from those of the present opposition. I must add, since I am opening my mind so much at large, that when I look at the state of the civil list in Great Britain, which I have reason to know and feel to be full two years in debt to most of the departments, I see no means of carrying on government upon any thing like a broad bottom, even officially ; to say nothing of the necessary accommodation to those expectants who will look to come forward with advantage, or to retire without marks of disgrace ; and both parties have emulously concurred in cutting off all those extraneous means of accommodation, which might supply the deficiency of the civil list resources. In Ireland things are yet worse. They have seized upon aU the means of govern- 394 CORRESPONDENCE. ment, in order to accommodate one family, and its dependencies ; and they have so squandered away every resource, under the pre- tence of providing a home defence, that not only is Ireland unable to form a system of comprehension, but England will soon find itself unable to supply that kingdom with the means of its ordinary existence. To whatever point of the compass I turn my eyes, I see nothing but difficulty and disaster. You will naturally say, Why therefore do you reason in a state of despair 1 I do it, that Lord Fitzwilliam and yourself may see my melancholy reveries in this deplorable state* of things. The very consideration of the difficulties which strike me, may suggest to better heads than mine, the means of overcoming them. I do not know whether you have seen Hussey's pastoral letter. It is written with eloquence and energy, and with perhaps too little management towards the unfortunate system which rules in Ireland at present ; but it is the product of a manly mind, strongly impressed with the trust committed to his hands for supporting that religion, in the administration of which he has a very respon- sible place, and which he considers as in the commencement of a new persecution. It is therefore no wonder that he recommends an adherence to it under all circumstances, which many people animated by a contrary party zeal may not approve : but men must act according to their situation, and for one I am of opinion that it were better to have a strong party zeal, provided it is bottomed in our common principles, than any thing resembling infidelity, which last we know, by woeful experience, is as capable of religious persecution as any sectarian spirit can possibly be. I received your letter of yesterday. Nothing can equal the pre- cipitation of ministers in acceding to the demands of the first mutiny. Nothing but want of foresight can be alleged in favour of the formalizing delay to effectuate the purposes of the grant which had been extorted from their fears. But this will ever be the case of those who act from no principle but fear. The moment that is over, they fall into a supine security. I agree with you, that no folly ever equalled their attempt to beg off discussion upon this subject. They ought to have known that it would have no other effect than what it had, which was to provoke and inflame the discussion they so childishly sought to avoid ; but the whole is the result of that meanness of spirit which has brought on all our misfortunes, and rendered all our resources fruitless. Delicacy alone has been the sole cause of ray silence to Mr. Windham, with relation to the affairs of Ireland; otherwise he is entitled to, and he possesses my most unreserved confidence. I have therefore no sort of difficulty in wishing him to know my CORRESPONDENCE. 395 thoughts upon that subject. They will not be very encouraging to him, because I am greatly afraid that the preposterous method [of] beginning with force and ending with concession, may defeat the effect of both. If things had been in their natural course, I should certainly have agreed with him. No concession on the part of government ought ever to be made without such a demonstration of force, as might ensure it against contempt. It will always be a matter of great moment in whose hands the force to be applied in domestic disturbances is placed. Never, no, never shall I be per- suaded that any force can appear otherwise than as odious, and more odious than dreaded, when it is known to be under the direc- tion of Lord Carhampton. I will not enter into all the particulars, but among the many mischievous measures lately adopted, his nomination to the office of commander-in-chief led to by far the worst consequences. When I am opening my mind to you, I must add, that as long as a shallow, hot-headed puppy, proud and presumptuous, and ill- behaved, hke Mr. Cooke, has the chief or any credit at the Castle, or with ministry here, I can expect no sort of good from any thing that can be done in parliament. When we talk of giving way to Mr. Grattan and the Ponsonbys, I suppose it is meant that they should be taken into the Irish ministry ; else to give them a triumph, and at the same time to leave them in a state of dis- content and dissatisfaction, if we consider the interest of govern- ment as government, is to act against the most obvious dictates of common sense. Adieu. I may truly say with Addison's Cato, " I am weary of conjecture." I will not add with him, that " this must end them." But they must soon be ended by the Master of the drama, to whose will, pray with me, that we may be all, in all things, submissive. — Don't forget to send me the report of the House of Commons, and that of the House of Lords, if you can get it ; though I do not know why I am anxious about it, because as a nation our fate seems decided, and we perish with all the material means of strength that ever nation has possessed, by a poverty and imbecility of mind which has no example I am sure, and could have no excuse even in the weakest. Adieu, adieu. Yours ever, E. B. 396 CORRESPONDENCE. Right Hon. Edmund Burhe to Mrs. Crewe. Bath, May 21, 1797- Dear Mrs. Oeewe, We are very much obliged to you for the comfort we have had (the greatest we have had), by your company and correspondence since we came hither. We have now to let you know that all hopes of any recovery to me, from any thing which art or nature can supply, being totally at an end, and the fullest trial having been given to these waters without any sort of effect, it is thought advisable that I should be taken home, where, if I shall live much longer, I shall see an end of all that is worth living for in this world. We may be some time, perhaps four days, on the way ; but that will depend upon my strength. The times, indeed, are deplorable ; and the spirit in England appears to be, if at all, not much better than in Ireland ; nor is the club at the Crown and Anchor one jot less treasonable than the committee at Belfast ; and, what is worse, the names are higher, and members of parliament openly show themselves there ; whereas, it does not appear that, in Ireland, any of the principal people are at all connected with the seditious French revolutionists of the lower order. But I cannot look at the disorders there or here without reflecting with sorrow and indigna- tion at the provocations given to disorder of every kind, by what is called the government, in Ireland, and by the treacherous and pusillanimous conduct of government, both here and there, in concealing and positively denying, as you know they did, the existence of these disorders, until they broke out in the dreadful manner we see them. You know that they have, over and over again, represented the people there to be happy, and contented under their direction, and now no army is large enough to coerce them. God bless you until we meet. Yours ever and ever, Edm. Bueke. Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to the Bev. Dr. Hussey. Bath, May 22, 1797- Mr DEAR Feiend, I hope you received my last letter ", strongly recommending it to you, of whatever force your calls hither may be, not to quit Ireland whilst you had reason to apprehend that any serious accusation ' This letter has not been recovered. CORRESPONDENCE. 397 against you should be preferred in any shape whatever ; lest your coming hither on your affairs should, by your enemies, be construed into a jflight ; and this, from the nature of the enemies you have to deal with, could only serve to render them more ferocious, untract- able, and dangerous ". My opinion is, that you ought to go to Dublin, and there quietly to wait until they should make some attack upon you. I then hinted some heads, very short and scanty indeed, for your defence ; but they were such as I had taken principally from your own conversations, and were intended as nothing more than means to recall them to your memory. If all this affair be blown over, what I have said ought to pass for nothing. I would neither shun nor court inquiry ; but in case they should proceed in any judicial or in any parliamentary way, after I had made my defence personally, if the parliamentary mode should be pursued, I should insist that, before they proceeded to any resolution against me, which should affect me in my reputation or otherwise, I should be heard by my counsel ; and for that counsel I should certainly choose Mr. Curran, the most able advocate that I know. If they proceeded to indict me, or to move an information against me as for a misdemeanor, I would proceed just in the same way, and defend myself in the same manner ; more shortly, but modestly and firmly, in my own person ; more at large, by the same counsel. But I trust they will in one thing have prudence, and let you alone, contenting themselves with the illiberal abuse they have thrown upon you. When you come to England, you will not find me at Bath. I am to be taken from this place next Wednesday, that is, the day after to-morrow, as all hope of recovery from my original disorder is over, though my life is not immediately threatened. There is not even a remission in the original complaint, so that I shall be better at home, in all probability, than any where else ; and there, in your way to London, and the more frequently afterwards the better, I shall be most happy to see you. Mrs. Burke presents her most affectionate compliments, and believe me, my dear sir, Most truly yours, Edm. Bueke. * The Irish government took great offence at the pastoral letter of Hussey, men- tioned in his letter to Burke of the 2nd of April of this year. It formed the matter of accusation referred to here. 398 CORRESPONDENCE. Bight Hon. Edmund Burke to Arthur Young, Esq. Bath, May 23, 1797. My dear Sir, I am on the point of leaving Bath, having no further hope of benefit from these waters ; and, as soon as I get home, (if I should live to get home,) if I should find the papers transmitted me by your board, I shall send them faithfully to you, though, to say the truth, I do not think them of very great importance. My constant opinion was, and is, that all matters relative to labour ought to be left to the conventions of the parties ; that the great danger is in govern- ments intermeddling too much. What I should have taken the liberty of addressing to you, had I had the strength to go through it, would be to illustrate or enforce that principle. I am extremely sorry that any one in the House of Commons should be found so ignorant and unadvised as to wish to revive the senseless, barbarous, and, in fact, wicked regulations made against the free-trade in matter of provision, which the good sense of late parliaments had removed. I am the more concerned at the measure, as I was myself the person who moved the repeal of the absurd code of statutes against the most useful of all trades, under the invidious names of forestalling and regrating. But, however, I console myself on this point by considering that it is not the only breach by which barbarism is entering upon us. It is, indeed, but a poor consolation, and one taken merely from the balance of misfortunes. You have titles enough of your own to pass your name to posterity, and I am pleased that you have yet spirit enough to hope that there will be such a thing as a civihzed posterity to attend to things of this kind. I have the honour to be, with very high respect and esteem. Dear sir, your most obedient and very humble servant, Edm. Buuke. Mrs. Leadleater to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke. May 28, 1797- With a heart melted to overflowing, I cannot restrain the attempt to express my grateful sensations on receiving the greatest, and, alas ! I fear, the last proof of that unvarying friendship with which our ever-loved, our ever-honoured friend has favoured us ! I may transgress the bounds by intruding at this awful period; but I cannot help it. My affection and my sorrow will be excused, I CORRESPONDENCE. 399 believe, for thou hast ever looked kindly and partially upon me, and so has thy beloved wife, with whose feelings I sympathize, could that avail. This day's post brought me thy letter of the 23rd instant, dictated and signed by thee. Such attention, at such a time, and in such a situation ! It was like Edmund Burke ! It was like few others, but it is not bestowed upon hearts who do not feel it. — I look back on that friendship formed in the precious days of innocent childhood, between thee and my lamented parent. — -I trace its progress, which is so imprinted on my mind, that I almost seem to myself to have been a witness to it. — I see it continue unabated, notwithstanding the different sphere of life in which you moved, to the period of it ; — and may we not hope that there is an union of souls beyond the grave ? The composure and fortitude dis- played in thy letter is the greatest consolation we could receive with the tidings it conveyed of thy health. Since thou dost not allow us to hope for its restoration, we will hope better things than is in the power of this world to bestow. — My mother appears to decline, and looks to the end of her race as near. All the other branches of this family, I believe, are well in health. My brother continues the school, which, I believe, was never in higher estima- tion than at present. My husband regrets very much that he never shared with us the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with thee. We all unite in cordial unaffected love to thee. I thought I would say how we were, believing thou would be pleased to hear of our welfare, though how long that may be continued, seems doubt- ful. — The general fermentation throughout this nation, forebodes some sudden and dreadful eruption, and, however obscure or retired our situations may be, there is little prospect of escaping the calamity. This may cause us to admire, nay, adore the mercy, as weU as the wisdom of Him, who gives and takes life, in removing those so dear to us from the evil to come. My mother desires thou may accept as much love as she is capable of sending thee ; her heart is full of it towards thee ; and she bids me say, she hopes thou hast lived such a life, that thy end will be crowned with peace ! So be it, with my whole heart ! Thy affectionate obliged friend, Maky Leadbeater. Our best wishes, and dear love to thy wife. Abraham Shackleton has the melancholy satisfaction of perusing dear Edmund Burke's account of his poor state of health. He hopes (trusts) that a quiet resting-place is prepared for him. The memory of E. Burke's philanthropic virtues will outlive the period when his shining political talents will cease to act. New fashions of political sentiment will exist; but philanthropy, — immortale manet ! 400 CORRESPONDENCE. The Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Dr. Laurence. Beaconsfield, June 1, 1797. My dear Laueence, It is not easy for me to describe to you the state of Lord Fitz- william's mind. Indeed the condition of all affairs, of Irish affairs in particular, especially as they relate to him, both as a man and as a statesman, are enough to perplex a very clear understanding, such as in truth his ^understanding naturally is; but independently of these difficulties, which I feel to press equally upon any judgment of my own, he has those which result from his own passions, from a strong predilection to Mr. Fox with regard to this side of the water, and a still stronger with regard to Mr. William Ponsonby on the other side. As to Mr. Ponsonby, he seems to be guided by nothing but his passions. He is by his natural temper perhaps the most vehemently irritable and habitually irritated of any person whom I have ever heard of — I mean of a man conversant with public affairs; and he is even yet more hot in deliberation and council than he is in debate. Lord Fitzwilliam has not only his predilections, but he is influenced, too much so in my opinion, though very naturally and very excusably, by a rooted animosity against Mr. Pitt, and, indeed, what he has not in particular to himself, an incurable suspicion of his sincerity. If his predilections had been returned by any correspondent degree of attachment or confidence on the part of Mr. Ponsonby or Mr. Grattan, I should not be inclined to blame the confidence which he has in them, because, independently of their conduct (under great provocations, I admit) they are, especially the latter, men of integrity and public spirit ; but they not only do not act in confidence or in concert with Lord Fitzwilliam, but they are actually engaged in personal connexion, and combined in public arrangements, in a manner that would virtually exclude my Lord FitzwiUiam as much from all influence and direction in public affairs as Mr. Pitt does, or pos- sibly can do. It is plain that Ponsonby ' has concerted the infernal plan of what he calls parliamentary reform, with the opposition here, and eminently with his son-in-law, Mr. Grey, with whom he is con- nected full as much by politics as he is by family ties. Lord Fitz- william sees this parliamentary reform thus pushed in concert by the opposition in both kingdoms exactly in the same light which you and I do, and yet without regard to the dreadful consequences which he foresees from this measure, and without regard to the total, ' The Right Hon. William Brabazon Ponsonby, created Lord Ponsonby in 1806, whose daughter married Charles, second Earl Grey, who was prime minister from 1830 to 1834. COERESPONDENCE. 401 at least temporary, alienation of those people from his confidence, his connexion, and his principles. I plainly perceive that if he was consulted, he would advise to throw every thing into their hands. If I am asked what I would myself advise in such a case, I should certainly advise the same, but with this temperament and express previous condition, that they renewed their confidence in Lord FitzwilUam, whom I hold to be the only person to settle Ireland ; and that they give him some assurance as a man, a gentleman, and a friend, that they will be practicable about their schemes of changing the constitution of the House of Commons ; and that they will desist from the scheme of an absentee-tax, which in its principle goes more to the disconnexion of the two kingdoms than any thing which is proposed by the United Irishmen. As to Mr. Grrattan's other project, of laying new taxes upon Enghsh com- modities, and the principle upon which he proposes it, — namely, that England is a foreign and a hostile kingdom and adverse in interest, [it] is, I think, a measure he would hardly persevere in. I think the difficulty of the case is extreme, when you consider the military government established on the one hand, and the wild democratic representation proposed as its cure [on] the other. If Lord Fitzwilliam cannot be the lord-lieutenant, a thing to which he never would consent, and indeed in prudence ought not to do, leaving an adverse cabinet behind him, and if that adverse cabinet be, as it is, full as little disposed to trust to him as he is to rely upon it, the only way in which he can be serviceable is in a media- torial capacity ; and this office of a mediator he certainly cannot perform in the temper he is in at present. I have entered into a very great detaU with him, perhaps into too great a detail upon all those points, not being quite sure that I should live to converse with him again upon the subject ; yet I am afraid that I have poured too much into a mind in itself over anxious and over full. He does not like, nor indeed do I much, the manner in which he seems to be indirectly and without the least confidence consulted about a particular member of an arrangement, I mean that of naming your namesake. Judge Lawrence, to be chancellor of Ireland. It is plain that they mean some change to satisfy the people, but not essentially to alter their system, or to bring in any man whose local weight and authority might counterbalance that of Lord Clare and his faction, or prove a gratification to any descrip- tion of the people, or to facilitate any general arrangement ; and they seem to want a sort of sanction from Lord Fitzwilliam, with regard to a single member of some system with which he is wholly unacquainted. The thing was first suggested to him by Lord Carlisle, and Woodford in a letter to me made the same suggestion, VOL. II. D d 402 CORRESPONDENCE. to be communicated to Lord Fitzwilliam as from Mr. Windham. He was naturally much against giving any opinion on the subject ; for which he gave many good reasons ; but he was so hurt at those unconfidential confidences, that he was for some time unwilling that I should communicate his reasons for declining any opinion in my answer to Mr. Woodford's communication. However, I persuaded him to let me do it, as I am sure that, guarding himself by a prudent suspicion, he ought to be as open to hear, as cautious to determine upon any matter relaiive to Ireland. This is all with which I have to trouble you at present. As to the state of my body since my return, I cannot help smihng at the thought of Woodford's seeing it in so gay a point of view ; for I am sure if I should live to see you, you will rather think me a man dug out of the grave than as a man going, as I am, into it. I am infinitely weaker than when I left this, and far more emaciated. " Pallor in ore sedet, macies in corpore toto." I look like Ovid's Envy, but thank God without much envying any one ; and certainly not in a condition to be envied, except by those who prognosticate the dreadful evils of every kind which are impending over us. Adieu ! Mrs. Burke salutes you cordially ; and believe me Ever yours, E. B. P.S. I forgot to tell you that I have seen and conversed, though not enough, with Dr. Hussey ; but this I know, that he has stated facts sufficient to justify almost every thing which might have been considered as indiscreet in his pastoral letter. Right Hon. Edmund Burke to Dr. Laurence. Beconsfield, June 5, 1797. My dear Laurence, I am satisfied that there is nothing Uke a fixed intention of making a real change of system in Ireland ; but that they vary from day to day as their hopes are more or less sanguine from the Luttrellade. The system of military government is mad in the extreme — merely as a system, but still worse in the mad hands in which it is placed. But my opinion is, that if Windham has not been brought into an absolute relish of this scheme, he has been brought off from any systematical dislike to it. When I object to the scheme of any mihtary government, you do not imagine that I object to the use of the military arm in its proper place and order ; but I COEEESPONDENCE. 403 am sure that so long as this is looked upon as principal, it will become the sole reliance of government — and that from its apparent facility, every thing whatsoever belonging to real civil policy in the management of a people will be postponed, if not totally set aside. The truth is, the government of Ireland grows every day more and more difficult ; and consequently the incapacity of the jobbers there every day more and more evident ; but as long as they can draw upon England for indefinite aids of men, and sums of money, they will go on with more resolution than ever in their jobbing system. Things must take their course. As to the state of this kingdom, it does not appear to me to be a great deal better than that of Ireland. Perhaps in some points of view it is worse. To see the Thames itself boldly blocked up by a rebellious British fleet, is such a thing as in the worst of our di'eams we could scarcely have imagined. The lenitive electuary of Mr. Pitfs bill is perfectly of the old woman's dispensatory. The only thing which he spoke of, and which has any degree of common sense, is a general association of the whole kingdom to support government against all disorders, and all enemies foreign and internal ; but I doubt whether he has stuff enough in him to carry it into execution. What is all this coquetting with Sheridan ? and what, except shame, do they get by it ! Farewell, and God bless you ! Yours ever, E. B. Right Hon. Edmund BurJce to Dr. Laurence. Nerot's, Tuesday. My dear Laueence, I have passed a night without a wink of sleep. This sleeplessness has rather given me employment in thinking, than that thought has interrupted my sleep. I have turned over the affair of the subsidy in my mind, together with Lord Fitzwilliam's letter. On the coolest and maturest consideration, I am perfectly convinced of three things — 1st. That the subsidy proceeding is mo< illegal ; — 2nd. That it is unconstitutional, that is, against the spirit, use, and fundamental duties of the House of Commons; — 3rd. That in the then state of things (whether induced by Mr. Pitfs want of a previous manly course of action, or not) it was necessary for the preservation of public credit, and not to run across and traverse the loan. The paper I enclose proves, I think, the last point. So that if you agree with me, I do not see but that your falling in with D d 2 404 CORRESPONDENCE. Lord Fitzwilliam, doing the thing with political modesty and management as you proposed, may be very right. I see it will be difficult to disentangle the pohtical consequences of this proceeding from the constitutional. To come to a direct censure would damn the war and all our alliances. The first act of my opposition— was in conjunction with others to force Pitt's father and Lord Camden to take an act of indemnity. But there, though the not sitting of parliament was a better excuse than here is had,— yet the act itself was directly ilhgal. But as to the unconstitutional tendency there was none in it. They resisted for awhile the indemnity— but they were beat out of it. There was no censure, but on the contrary, the necessity was admitted— the obstinacy of adhering to prerogative, only blamed and scouted. The ministry did not suffer by it— nor will Mr. Pitt, if he will be well advised. But this we shall talk over. Woodford may not be well. I wish to see you, if possible, before you go to the House. I dine at home. God bless you. Yours ever, E. B. Fragment of a Letter from the Right Hon. Edmund Burhe to Lord Chancellor Loubghhorough. Without a date. My dear Lokd, I am to inform you that your good-natured presentation has had its full effect, and that Mr. Etty is parson of Whitchurch. By that one arrangement your lordship has the satisfaction of making several people happy : the person who resigned the living not the least so. Your prot^g^ is much attached to a very pleasing young woman, the daughter of a worthy clergyman in this neighbourhood. Without this preferment there was no hope of their union. All the parties have a considerable degree of merit ; and they feel much gratitude for the happiness they enjoy, and the good prospect which, in their estimate, lies before them. I am sure I am myself extremely obliged to you on this occasion, and should think myself much to blame if I neglected to make you my best acknowledg- ments. We must enjoy those transient satisfactions as they arise, without inquiring too minutely into their probable duration. God knows how long the church establishment, on which these people exist, and to which such multitudes are now breeding up, is likely to last. But whenever that goes, it will go with every thing else. CORRESPONDENCE. 405 When that grand period will arrive, it is not easy to foresee with exactness : but there are plain and evident marks of its approach. I don't mean that they appear in the event of this or that measure (though the prospect in that point of view is gloomy enough), but in the dispositions of men which prepare bad events and improve accidental misfortune into systematic ruin. I very much doubt whether, in any country, they who have the charge of us the poor flock are sufficiently aware of the giant strides with which the great overbearing master-calamity of the time is advancing towards us. All you, the great, act just as if you thought a thousand things were to be feared or pursued for their own separate sakes, when, in reality, none are worth notice, otherwise than as they tend to promote or resist the cause of Jacobinism. What amazes me, even to consternation and horror, is, that people, otherwise of the very best understandings, proceed exactly as if every thing stood in the situation in which you and I saw them thirty years ago, at a time when very great errors led but to very slight consequences ; and not as they are now, when very slight mistakes lead to incal- culable evils. Then the greatest changes which could be appre- hended, could very little affect the domestic happiness of the greater part of mankind ; — now no man's fireside is safe from the effects of a political revolution. I confess that the conversation I had with your lordship, when you were kind enough to pay a short visit to this melancholy abode, filled me with no small uneasiness at that time and ever since. From the tenor of that conversation I collected, that if the ministry should exist at all in the form it had lately taken, it must lose for ever that cement of cordiaUty, of co-operation, and of unity of design, for which alone political coalitions are worth pursuing and framing. This disunion has happened at the time, in the manner, and on the subject which of all others is calculated to render it fatal. We see our way but ill before us ! I thought that the reputation and the permanence of Mr. Pitt's administration was the very corner- stone of the salvation of Europe. I thought that the junction lately made was the security of that angular piece. You know that although I had no share in the executive detail (a thing for which I have little capacity and no liking), how ardently I wished, how earnestly I laboured for, and how truly I rejoiced in the late arrangement. But would to God it had never been made ! without it there was a possibility (in truth, no more than a possibility) of avoiding ruin. But now, at least in my bosom, every ray of hope is extinguished. 406 CORRESPONDENCE. I know that many of those who considered themselves as Mr. Pitt's friends, and many of those who were in the closest connexion with the Duke of Portland and with Lord Fitzwilliam, were against the late coaHtion. They will, neither of them, be sorry to see them kept in with humiUation and mortification, or whai one set of them will like better, to see them kicked out with disgrace. But their rejoicing will be the grief of a late posterity. " The child will rue, that is unborn, the hunting of that day." » It is as I expected : Lord F. is not to go to Ireland. The reason, as I hear, for his not going, is that alone for which I should wish him to go at all. It was apprehended that he would make some changes in Ireland. I have seen and conversed with Lord F. upon Ireland ; though not at all about the arrangements of men, nor the difficult case which has since occurred, and of which it did not seem to me that Lord F. had the least suspicion. He desired to talk to me as to a man of some knowledge in the affairs of Ireland, and of great zeal and earnestness that the king's business should go on prosperously in that kingdom, and at this time. I gave him my honest opinions (which you know as well as he knows them) on that subject. I took the liberty, even before I had seen him, and on the prospect of Hutchinson's death (or instantly after it, I forget which) to caution him against jobbing away the two offices which he held, particularly that of the college. Of this I am sure that, before Hutchinson's death, I wrote to Grattan to exert himself to prevent that seminary of the church of Ireland from becoming a matter of state accommodation, or private patronage. I wrote to the D. of P. a long letter to the same effect. Even in the first paroxysms of grief, under the heavy hand of God, when Windham's kindness broke in upon me, finding it long before given out that I was soliciting, and in one paper it being asserted that I had secured it to myself, I spoke and wrote my mind very fully to him against this radical job, which struck at the rising generation, and poisoned public principle in its first stamen — and when I heard that one Dr. Bennet, not content with his bishopric, was so greedy and so frantic, at this time, when the church labours under so much odium for avarice, as to wish to rob the members of its seminary, men of the first characters in learning and morals, of their legal rights, and by dispensation to grapple to himself, a stranger and wholly unacquainted with the body, its lucrative provostship, as a commendam, I wrote to the D. of P. strongly to enforce the idea I expressed to your lordship in our conversation, and before to him by letter, against unstatutable nominations. I considered a dispensa- CORRESPONDENCE. 407 tion to be to the statutes only as equity to law ; and that he the D. of P. had no right by his arbitrary will and pleasure to recom- mend a violation of the law, and the robbing of other people of their undoubted rights. Earl FitzwilUam to Dr. Laurence ". Wentworth, Sept. 10, 1797. My dear Laurence, I was in hopes of receiving any of the works, as soon as they came from the press, but I am afraid you have forgot me, for I see they are published, and I have not a single copy ; will you be so good as to order the printer to send to Grosvenor-square twenty-four copies, and to let the porter know what they are. The preface is in the papers ; I like it exceedingly ; it gives the character of the man, of the real patriot and true friend of mankind, by pointing out the motives of his conduct in a manner that carries conviction. In looking among my own papers I lament to think that the generality of the letters which I received from him, in the early stages of the French revolution, are lost, I am afraid ; for I find scarcely any ; and among those on that subject which still remain, there are very few that I can think fit for the public eye — the greatest number in my possession are on Irish affairs principally : a subject too recent, and in its nature involving many things that certainly render them still less so on that subject, you will naturally suppose it impossible he should have written to me, but with a liberty that must render them fit only for private inspection, till the generation is gone, and in a manner forgotten, whose names and characters form the ground of his observations. But since I have been here, I have been looking out his corre- spondence with my uncle ' — this correspondence, as far as it goes, is curious in most of its parts, as it forms a history of the principal measures which occurred between 1776 and 1782; and makes out the motives for the conduct, and the principles upon which the great body of the opposition acted on those occasions — every line and letter of it come in proof of the immaculate virtue of the writer — not an iota of this his inmost thoughts, and most private senti- ' This letter was not inserted in the original edition of Burke's Correspondence, but it contains opinions so honourable to Burke, that it is incumbent on the editors not to lose the present opportunity of giving it to the world. With respect to the letters on Irish afTairs to which Lord Fitzwilliam alludes, the editors considered that the objections which he entertained in 1797 to their publication at that time, no longer existed in 1844, when the Correspondence was published, and, accordingly, most of them were printed at that period. ' Charles Marquis of Rockingham. 408 CORRESPONDENCE. ments, that can cast a suspicion upon the purity of his principles, both in a moral and a political point of view. His honour, his fide- lity to his engagements and attachments, are conspicuous in the highest degree : his consideration for the character, credit, and reputation of his friends appears always uppermost in his thoughts ; for them and for the public, whose welfare he considered as involved in theirs, he thought, he planned, he advised, — personal considera- tions never appear to have a place in his mind — his purity and disinterestedness are beyond all parallel, and all praise. I will soon send them up, and when you read them, I am sure this remarkable feature throughout the whole course will strike you. I know you are well aware of this striking part of his character, and will learn nothing new on that score by this correspondence ; but still to see it so made out, by the proof of a long course of years, is pleasing and satisfactory ; for though the quality of disinterestedness is not that which gives him most the superiority over other men, (very inferior capacities are equal to that virtue,) yet it is the quality, about which eminent politicians are always attacked by the envy of the mean and the vulgar, and therefore it is pleasant in sifting into his private sentiments, to see him so clearly eminent even in that. Though this correspondence is, one may say, the history of a past age, the great actors in which are gone, few of them remain, yet if you think part of it fit hereafter for publication, there are many things in it that must be omitted, and I shall be anxious to see what you mean to give to the public — the collecting it together has not been the business of an hour — Lord Rockingham's papers were kept in no order, and I have had a great chest of papers, heaped up in a state of the most complete disorder, to ransack, piece- meal, for the purpose. Pray let me hear how poor Mrs. B. does, and whenever you see her, assure her of my earnest wishes for her health and comfort. Most truly yours, W. F. APPENDIX; COMPRISING DETACHED PAPEES, NOTES FOE SPEECHES, ENCLOSURES OMITTED IN THE CORRESPONDENCE. APPENDIX. Notes on Copyright Bill and Monopolies generally. " Monopoly " is contrary to " Natural Eight." " Free-Trade " is the same thing as " Use of Property." \I)efinition. — Monopoly, is the power, in one man, of exclu- sive dealing in a commodity or commodities, which others might supply if not prevented by that power.] No monopoly can, therefore, be prescribed in ; because contrary to common right. Its only lawful origin is in the convention of parties, which gets the better of law. [Note. — The convention is valid, not merely by the will of the parties, but on account of a presumed compensation for the right that is given up.] The State, representing all its individuals, may contract for them ; and therefore may grant a monopoly. They ought not to grant this monopoly on arbitrary principles, but for the good of the whole. What ought to be their rules in granting a monopoly 2 1st. The principle of encouraging men to employ themselves in useful inventions. 2nd. The principle of encouraging them to great risks in useful undertakings. A matter may be of great difficulty in the invention, and of great use in the imitation ; a monopoly here may be equitable, in favour of the inventor. The beginnings of many useful undertakings may be fuU of risk and danger of all kinds ; the following of them safe. Here, there- fore, is another equity for monopoly. {Note. — Nothing here said of monopoly purchased from the State ; nor of that monopoly which grows out of the power of dealing on a large capital, or of disadvantageous intelligence, &c. This last is not monopoly, properly so called. The former is in the nature of a tax.] 412 APPENDIX. Monopoly is an odious term ; but one that is in no sort applicable in that odious sense to privileges of this nature (patents), even if they were to continue not for some limited time, but to the end of the world. Monopoly in the odious sense is the turning that to private profit, which before was common. The combination of materials, which produces a given effect, if never before discovered or used, cannot be said to have been common to the world. The materials, as mere gross physical objects, had certainly an exist- ence in nature, so Jias every material which can be used in any art, but it is not making a monopoly of what was common to obtain a patent for a new combination. It is the direct reverse : for the condition of the patent, compelling a discovery, makes that common which was private before. It is observed that the first discoverers of any great improvement have been ruined. This, so far as nature is concerned in it (as it is in some degree), is a con- stitution of things greatly to be lamented, and it cannot be seen without much grief. But as far as it arises from the envy, the avarice, the malice, or the frowardness and petulance of mankind, surely it is to be resisted as any other mischievous effects of the base and degenerate part of human nature. To defraud the labourer of his hire has been set down among crimes of the deepest aggravation. But to deprive the inventor of the profit of his discovery, is that aggravated crime much aggravated, as adding ingratitude to injustice, and suffering that man to be himself a beggar, who has brought new riches into the common stock of society. I therefore resolved with myself, if I should be in any situation capable of forwarding or of thwarting, never to stand in the way of any man's fair and honest pretensions to profit by his own ingenuity and industry. I never have done it, and nothing but the clearest and most decisive conviction of fraud or inutility can make me do it. I know very well that reason must put bounds to this as well as to every right feeling, or it will run into a fault. But I should think it odd if I were to begin here. To say that this restrains and cramps industry is not true. It is the very reverse. Nothing encourages industry, skill, and invention so much, as to secure to every man the profits of the labour of his own hands and his own mind, and whenever a patent ends, it is then a present and donation to the public. It is so in some measure from the beginning. They have given nothing for it but the breath of their authority, which costs them nothing. APPENDIX. 413 Concerning the Duration of Monopolies. I KNOW of no dealing, except in books of the author's own inven- tion, wherein a perpetual monopoly can be reasonable. A book is an invention which, taken in the whole, it is not probable that any other man in the world, but the individual author, could have supplied. It is that which, of all others, is the most readily multiphed by copies : with this advantage, that all the copies are as good as the original ; in which it differs from pictures, and agrees with machines. The equity of a monopoly in favour of mechanical inventions is not so strong and evident, because it is not improbable that many men may hit on a contrivance, in all respects the same, without commu- nication ; and it has so happened. Monopolies ought, therefore, not to be granted in perpetuity for such contrivances. As to new undertakings, where, not the invention, but the risk gives a sort of title to monopoly, the duration of the monopoly ought not, in equity, to be continued longer than till the under- taker is compensated the full value of the risk. Perhaps the best way of estimating this risk, is by the supposed loss of the capital, and the ordinary simple interest of the money, or the current value of insurance. This ought to be the utmost extent. If he has gained his capital with compound interest, this ought to be the very utmost ; it seems, indeed, rather too much. 1st. Because, by suffering others to trade, he is not excluded, but is at least on equal footing with others. 2nd. Because he has advantages from prior possession of market, which does, in many cases, operate as a monopoly. 3rd. Because the new dealer does himself run a risk, and there- fore stands upon the equity of the former ; and he runs a risk for a beneficial purpose, as much as the first dealer does ; for to extend trade is beneficial as well as to discover it ; and risks are run in extending as well as discovering. There will be some difference where, in the original grant of the monopoly, a price has been limited. Such monopohes may, therefore, have limits ; in most cases they ought to have limits ; else they will transgress the purposes of their establishment, which was to discover a benefit for the most beneficial, that is, the most generally beneficial, purposes. 414 APPENDIX. Poor Laws and Settlement. I THINK it may be fairly said that the poor laws in this country compose one of the most burdensome, complicated, and perplexed systems of economy that has ever been known in any country. From the time in which this nation took the poor out of the care of occasional voluntary benevolence, and placed them under the tutelage of police, changing the imperfect voluntary duty of charity into a perfect and compulsory obligation to be enforced by law, with many advantages, certainly great inconveniences and diffi- culties ensued. It is a full proof how much our very best virtues, separated from the direction of an enlarged and legislative prudence, may come to have all the effect and operation of vice. Injustice and oppression have been made (by a sort of equivocal generation) to arise from the exertion of the most extensive plans of national charity that perhaps ever were formed. A parish is a district sufficient for its own purposes, originally ecclesiastical or manorial, but which has no proper relation to the exercise of industry. That men who live near one another should resort to one place of worship, and there exercise their devotions and charity, and make a parochial fund for the maintenance of both, is right, because it is convenient ; but for no other reason under heaven. A parish has no relation to the exercise of industry. Patria est ubicunque feliciter agis — I might add utiliier — a carpenter who has no work in his parish is not of it as a carpenter, he belongs to the place which calls for his employment, and finds him food. To send him any where else is to banish him without a crime, to punish him upon a possibility of delinquency, inferred from a possibility of poverty. Profession has nothing to do with locality ; by con- fining a man where he cannot have employment, and keeping him from where he can, you do a double injury. Transportation to America is not more a punishment than to send him where he may possibly starve. Parishes consider themselves as having no common interest. It is to prevent a man being a possible burden to one parish that he is made an actual burden to another. Resolutions concerning the Poor Laws. Resolved, That under the present constitution of the laws of this kingdom for settling and maintaining the poor thereof, every native of APPENDIX. 415 England residing in any parish or place in which he is not a hired servant by the year, nor an apprentice legally bound, nor an occupier of some tenement of at least the yearly value of ten pounds, nor possessed of an estate of his own there, is removable, by order of two justices of the peace, to the place of his last legal settlement, upon a general complaint made by the parish officers that he is likely to become chargeable, and judgment given by the said justices that the said complaint is true ; without any rule for the direction of the said officers in making such complaint, or the said justices in giving such judgment. That every such person is compellable to reside at the place of his last legal settlement, although the said place of settlement should afford but insufficient or no means of employment, and although the person subject to such restraint hath never been actually chargeable to any parish or place. That such arbitrary power of removal and restraint is a subver- sion of natural justice, a violation of the inherent rights of mankind, and not justified by the true policy of a commercial nation, but totally repugnant thereto. Eesolved, That a committee be appointed to examine into the powers given by the laws for settling and maintaining the poor (and particularly the statute of the 13th and 14th Charles II.) to justices of the peace and parish officers, and to report their opinion of the most effectual means of restoring the labouring part of this kingdom to that liberty which all free and industrious subjects ought to enjoy, of exercising their industry wherever they shall find it most to their advantage. Notes for Speech, on Amendment on the Address, Nov. 30, 1774. The eyes of the world are fixed upon this new parliament ', and the manner by which you begin will determine much on your real character, and the spirit of all your future proceedings. The late parliament sleeps with its fathers, and its works follow it ; but you certainly succeed to your constitutional inheritance with many heavy incumbrances. There are great demands * The third parliament in the reign of George III, Mr. Burke was then member for Bristol. 416 APPENDIX. upon your wisdom ; there are vast arrears of dignity to be recovered. As a preliminary to restoring order in the empire, it seems to be absolutely necessary that parliament should re-establish the reve- rence that is due to it, and without which it cannot properly perform its functions. Nothing is more beautiful in the theory of parliaments than that principle of renovation, and union of permanence and change, that are happily mixe4 in their constitution : — that in all our changes we are never either wholly old or wholly new : — that there are enough of the old to preserve unbroken the traditionary chain of the maxims and policy of our ancestors, and the law and custom of parliament ; and enough of the new to invigorate us and bring us to our true character, by being taken fresh from the mass of the people ; and the whole, though mostly composed of the old members, have, notwithstanding, a new character, and may have the advantage of change without the imputation of inconstancy. Permit me to say, that this method of random address has two ill effects. First, it hinders the benefits of having a new parlia- ment, by infecting it with the passions of the old, and pledging itself as if it had been the continuance of the old ; whilst the wisdom of their measures, to say the least, are only on trial. And next, it surely is not for our dignity to bind ourselves in this manner. No man ever addressed himself into importance ; and no flatterer, however he might improve his interest, ever raised his dignity by his adulation. This amendment ' is exactly suited to the circumstances of a ' The following is the amendment referred to by Mr. Burke. It was moved by Lord John Cavendish, and seconded by Mr. Frederick Montague. The address had been moved by Lord Beauchamp (the second Marquis of Hertford), and was carried by 264 against 73. " That an humble address be presented to his majesty, to return his majesty the thanks of this House for Ms most gracious speech from the throne ; and to assure his majesty that, animated with the warmest zeal for his service, and for the glory and prosperity of his reign, we shall enter into the consideration of the present situation of his colonies in America, with that care and attention which the delicacy and import- ance of the object require. " And humbly to represent that our inviolable duty and respect to his majesty, as well as our situation in an immediate delegated trust from his people, will not permit us to form any opinion upon a matter which may not only sensibly and deeply affect the landed and commercial interests of our constituents, but lead to consequences of a still more alarming nature, without the fullest and most satisfactory information ; and to that end, most humbly to request that his majesty would be graciously pleased to give orders that all the accounts received from America may be laid before this House with all convenient dispatch. , , , , . , " And that when, by such information, we shall be enabled to form a proper judg- ment we will humbly offer our advice on this delicate situation of affairs, and APPENDIX. 417 new parliament. It engages no old member in the emancipation of the sentiments which have arisen from his information, and it does not engage any new member in sentiments that can arise from no information. ******* We shall render the bitter draught more salutary, if we convince the world that it is not from a predilection to such courses, but from absolute necessity, we resort to them. To be slow to anger is the attribute of that Being whose anger is truly dreadful. There is a graciousness, there is a wisdom, there is a majestic reserve, in being slow to decide, in a case where blood may be the consequence of the decision. You may always pass with great dignity from clemency to rigour; it is a down-hill road. But the retrograde course is never honourable, and but very rarely prudent. In this course — in any course, I should like to decide once for ever ; and, there- fore, to be careful how I decide. I should not be fond of thinking that an escape or retreat was open to me, by a sudden change of my conduct. That country is undone, which suffers levity and in- constancy to be reckoned in the catalogue of its resources. But if, what I think rather looks to be the case, those who undertake to lead, resolve to remain exactly in the state they stand in at present, unless driven by events, — stillness becomes a state of inaction, and loquacity suits but ill with indecision. I am convinced that there are many members of the last parlia- ment now in the House, who never would have voted for the acts of the last session, if they had foreseen the consequences which we feel at present. It will be wise in us not to be led as they were led, by precipitate declarations to inconsiderate actions, and, what is the inevitable consequence, to a fruitless repentance. Who can avoid being touched with the most poignant emotion, when he compares the state of things at this the opening of his majesty's third parliament, with their condition at the opening of his first? Sir, the House has many young members who are saved the feeling of this painful contrast ; but the aged Israelites weep at the view of the second temple ! Oh ! what a falling off is there ! Oh ! how soon this sun of our meridian glory is setting in clouds, in tempests, and storms — in darkness and the shadow of death ! At that happy meridian, sir, we triumphantly withstood the combination of all Europe. Every part of the globe bowed under the force of our victorious arms ; and, what was a combination endeavour to find the means eflfectually to support the honour of his majesty's crown, and the true dignity of parliament, which shall he best adapted to connect both with the permanent peace, concord, and prosperity of all his majesty's dominions." VOL. n. E e 418 APPENDIX. new under the sun, we had all the trophies of war combined with all the advantages of peace. The rugged field of glory was buried under the exuberance of luxuriant harvest. The peaceful olive was engrafted on the laurel ; arms and arts embraced each other. The messengers of victory, sent from every quarter of the globe, met the convoys of commerce that issued from every port, and announced one triumph while they prepared another. In the season of piracy and rapine, the ocean was as safe to navigation as the tranquil bosom of the Thames. All this was done by the concord, by the consent, and harmonious motion, of all the parts of the empire ; and this harmony, consent, and concord, arose from the prin- ciple of liberty, that fed, that animated, and bound together the whole. But now, while those enemies look on and rejoice, we are tearing to pieces this beautiful structure ! The demon of discord walks abroad ; a spirit of blindness and delusion prevails ; we are pre- paring to mangle our own flesh, in order to cut to pieces the bonds of our union, and we begin with the destruction of our commerce, as a preliminary to civil slaughter, — and thus opens this third parliament ! Notes for Speeches. — American War". SlE, I rise for the first and for the last time to deliver my senti- ments on the bill that is before you *. It would not be right to trouble you frequently. The moment this parliament adopted and justified the whole line of your measures, the question was decided. If the general plan, with regard to America, on which you have for some years past proceeded, be judicious, this bill is unexcep- tionable. For it is exactly in the spirit of the rest ; and as it is of the same nature, it will, I have no doubt, produce exactly the ' These papers were evidently written as preparations for speeches upon matters to be discussed in the House of Commons, relating to the disturbances in the American colonies, and the war which grew out of them. They are probably not given in the exact order of time in which they were written, as the papers are without date, or any heading or title to show the particular subject to which they belong ; but this is of the less importance as they are otherwise very imperfect ; being little more than a collection of detached thoughts, put down on paper as they rose in the writer's mind, many of them forming maxims of policy and government of general applica- tion. * The bill " to restrain the trade and commerce of the provinces of Massachusett's Bay," &c. — brought into the house by government, upon the motion of Sir Charles Whitworth, Feb. 17, 1775. APPENDIX. 419 same consequences. It is the Boston Port Bill upon a larger scale. The principle is prolific, and does not degenerate by the descent. As the Boston Port Bill produced the New England Bill, this New England biU will produce a Virginian bill, and the Virginian a Carolina bill ; until the statute book becomes nothing but a long roU of acts of general attainder, extinguishing trade and proscribing provinces. We have got into these difiiculties by the most unaccountable means, and no less extraordinary are the devices by which we propose to get out of them. In order to preserve our authority, we are resolved to destroy our dominions. The proceeding against the colonies is not that of a sovereign whose subjects are in rebellion ; but it is that of one independent nation against another ; where, not having the means of direct in- vasion in their power, they resolved, by indirect means, to ruin and beggar those whom they are not able to conquer. It is possible that such a conduct may, between such nations, and in such a case, be a proper one. But a sovereign who, instead of fighting the rebels in a province, lays a dead hand on the trade of his subjects, is no better than a madman ; he acts himself in the spirit of the rebel and the robber whom he persecutes. The great principle in subduing such disorders, is to strike at the individual criminals, and to beat down the armed resistance ; but religiously to preserve the objects of trade, of revenue, of agricul- ture, and every part of ihepuhlic strength, because it is the strength of the sovereign himself. Our proceeding is the direct contrary. Our military force, though not spared, is feeble and confessedly insufficient. But we make our war, not on the armed hand, or the rebellious head, but on the vital principle of our own national strength, and on the source of the public health and vigour. Better, a thousand times, to send a regular army, full legions, and well-equipped squadrons of men-of-war, to fight with rebellious America, and overwhelm them with the entire compacted weight of our power, and the instantaneous exertion of our whole strength, than to waste the national vigour in a protracted, lingering hos- tility, which has neither the energy of war, nor the comforts and advantages of peace. Sir, you know that you are at a considerable expense already in military preparations and equipments. Now, I insist that it were far better to double and to treble your forces, whilst you let the trade lie open, than to spare your force and ruin your trade. For, whilst that trade goes on, the means of providing for your armies continues ; — you have wherewithal to support the taxes that the E e 2 420 APPENDIX. war occasions. But by the loss of trade the people lose every thing. You can better support great armies with trade, than the smallest without it. It will, I know, be said, that they refuse to trade with Great Britain. Well, they do wrong, and this is mischievous ; but you are just now as well able as ever to keep them in a great measure from trading in what you prohibit ; and whilst they trade elsewhere, they accumulate wealth, which will enable them, if ever commerce should return to its old channels, to discharge debt and renovate credit. But from beggary nothing can come but wretchedness ; from bankruptcy, nothing but bankruptcy. In the late war, the expenses were incredible ; (you were at an expense equivalent to the pay of four hundred thousand men ;) but they were continually supplied, because that war and British trade went on together. My clear opinion upon this sure principle is, that it will cost you less to maintain an army of thirty thousand men in America, than to pass this single biU. It is next to a demonstration, that if you have no way of ruling but by destroying your trade whenever your government is at- tacked, you must infallibly and very shortly be ruined, beyond all resource and all redemption. And why all this attack on trade ? Because the Americans have agreed not to import any of your goods ? How often have I heard from that side of the House that this agreement was futile, impracticable, contrary to the nature of man, and the nature of things, and must inevitably dissolve of itself. Yet this very measure of folly and weakness has, however, struck such terror or such charms into you, as to induce you to imitate it at the hazard of every thing that is dear to you. Mr. Bollan's character and authority '. A VEUY singular fate this of Mr. BoUan. He has gone through as many metamorphoses as any fable in Ovid. We first admit him in character of agent and inhabitant. Then we refuse him in both. The House of Lords accept him in both — vir nunc fcemiTia, Cceneus, Bursus et in veterem, &c. He is here again, what will the magic wand of honourable gentlemen make him ? We hear that the council cannot appoint an agent. Who told him so ? Where is his authority ? On what law, statute or com- mon, or on what usage is that opinion founded I It is said they * This gentleman was agent for the Massachusett's council. APPENDIX. 421 may appoint a special but not a general attorney. On what autho- rity is that distinction founded ? It amounts to this ; — that we are resolved not to hear the only person we can hear ; but are mighty ready to hear any one else. Pray observe how this argument runs ; a general agent you will not admit, and a particular agent you cannot receive ; because you are in haste, and will not give notice. For he that has not notice of a particular suit, cannot appoint an attorney. What is sophistry but to add insult to injus- tice ; — to mock the people whom you are destroying. If the habit of doing wrong converts it into right, — if the practice of injustice turns it into equity, we have a precedent, clear, recent, of the highest authority (our own) in another and a stronger part of this very case °. But I do not insist (very much otherwise) on our adhering to this precedent. There are some virtues which, mixed with vices, serve only to increase the depravity of the whole composition. I do not press you to consistency. When you sen- tenced 25,000 people, the helpless women and innocent children, or far the major part of them, to death by famine, and refused to put them on their trial, or hear any person to plead for them, or so much as to present a petition for them, this is a precedent ! But it is a precedent which I do not wish you to follow. I dare not charge this murder on the House. I hope it was done through haste and inadvertency. For the whole world I could not have had the least share in that transaction ; and I am sure I do not wish you to repeat it in this lesser act of injustice. This injustice is great, but not so great as the former. Franchises are for the preservation of men's liberties, properties, and lives. To leave the franchise and take away the rest is a miserable resource ; it is seething the kid in the mother s milk. It is bad to take away a charter ; it is worse to take away a city. I thought you did an injury in the Middlesex election ; I am sure it would be worse to cut off the right hand. ******* The bread of the needy is their life blood. He that defraudeth them of it is a man of blood. He that taketh away his neighbour's living slayeth him. It is found necessary to break down and level such rugged obstruc- tions as human reason and common sense, before the way can be " The bill mentioned in a preceding note, which received the royal assent, March 30, 1775. 422 APPENDIX. made smooth and even, for the march of injustice. All the rules of policy were to be cancelled, all the principles of commerce were to be overturned ; and lest even the tender and sentimental sympathy which men have for their own interest, should interfere to protect the provinces which you are devoting to destruction, it is now for the first time to be proved, that the trade of these pro- vinces is of no advantage to you. 1st. That a trade which you destroy in its present hands, and present place of carrying on, may be transferred to other persons and other places at your pleasure. [Qucere : — whether the power of trading to one place, does not arise from the trade to many. The greatest trade is always the cheapest. We are snug, and say we will sell in Germany, if we don't sell in America ; but I tell you, if you don't sell in America, you will not sell in Germany.] 2nd. Because a man has broken in a trade by giving injudicious credit, that trade is a loss to the nation. 3rd. The balance of trade, which you contended for so long, is a mischievous principle ; the effect of which is to accumulate a debt, and the more it inclines in your favour, the greater the debt. 4th. That a trade may go on increasing for a hundred years, and all the while the persons concerned in it may lose their money. ik iii ik s{f !4c sk sk This is my apology for my former weakness in seeming to find fault with the past conduct of ministers. I shall now make an humble apology for presuming to dissent from those measures which they propose at present ; and I will endeavour to clear my conscience as well as I am able, with as little offence to place or power as I can use in any sort consistently with that discharge of duty. The moment is critical ; but it would be an affront to your sensibility to enlarge upon its importance. I confess I feel an anxious horror and perturbation, that does not suffer me to keep quiet night or day, — a poignant anguish that thrills through my heart, — on the crisis that approaches. I shall endeavour to put up some fixed points to which I will direct ray thoughts, to keep me from being distracted by the multitude and weight of the considerations that rush in upon me, and they are these four. First, that you have not sufiicient information before you to direct your judgment. Second, that you mistake the object for which you are contending. Third, that you do not know that the APPENDIX. 423 means which you use are not adequate to the end. Fourth, that the end, if obtained, is useless and undesirable. First, as to the information. All external information which you may have, through the extensive medium of mercantile commu- nication, is denied to us, as making no fit object for the considera- tion of this committee. In the next place, all information which may tend to let us know the opinions of persons who, from their situation and lights, are capable of giving us any information, either of importance or authenticity, is denied to us, because it might expose the friends of government to danger. This is the more extraordinary, because the noble lord, but two days ago, stated it as the duty of a governor, to stand out and avow himself, let the danger be what it would; in which sentiment I heartily agreed with him ; and nothing is more certain than that the opinion of such persons is infinitely more material than the gross and naked facts ; for the degree of force, the apphcation, the necessity of force at all, its power of compassing its end, and even the applicability, or non-applicability of any civil or juridical regulations, — all depend upon the opinions of the men on the spot, and the reasons and authorities with which they support them ; otherwise, (so far as regards our information,) the most careless, injudicious, ignorant and foolish men, might as well be in place there, as the most wise, the most careful, and the most enlightened persons we could send. They owe us, I apprehend, the benefit of their wisdom for conducting our affairs there, and of their experience in laying a ground for our conducting them here. Besides, I am convinced as to the danger of these persons if we adopt measures of rigour here. Our governors will be censured there, and universally censured, as the authors and advisers of the whole project, when our information, and their safety, might at once be compassed, by laying the whole before us. At the beginning of the session, I expected that on this day, a great political map of America, founded upon actual observations, taken on the spot with the best instruments and by the most competent observers, would be laid before you ; that a great statesman-like display would be made of the state of each province, the powers of the government, the force of the military, the disposi- tion of the gentry, the views of the merchants, even the feelings of husbandmen, and all this founded on the rock of authenticity. "Qualis status urbis, quae mens exercituum, quis habitus pro- vinciarum, quid toto orbe terrarum validum, quid segrum fuerit." This a great statesman would have done ; this a great parliament would have done. I owe submission to a wisdom that is above me, 424 APPENDIX. but my vote to what is to be my conscience. On my conscience I am sure you have no information that would not be considered as a mockery of any parish club. Now the objects which you contend for, I apprehend to be unwise and unjustifiable. It is said that you are not now contending for this or for that particular object ; your whole sovereignty is at stake. This is the direct contrary of fact, if understood as it is used. Come to a true state of the question. They insinuate as if the question was simple and naked between you, on which a single issue was joined which you were to try by battle between you and them ; — sovereignty, or no sovereignty. But our sovereignty has been questioned since we have passed certain acts which are stated by the colonies to be violent, unjust, and tyrannical. If so, the question is not whether our sovereignty is to be maintained as an abstract and unrelated proposition, as gentlemen would describe, but whether our sovereignty is to be maintained in this manner of exercising it, and accompanied with all these acts. For you must prove that the opposition to any exercise of your legislative authority was antecedent to these acts, or you cannot disunite the question of the propriety of these acts from the question of the sovereignty you would maintain. You know that your original quarrel was not for commercial, or any general economical regulations, but for taxes. Had parliament not been delivered over to a delusion of which there is no parallel in history, their force would have been employed solely upon that revenue until it was obtained ; and then, having obtained one object, they might go with the strength and credit of that victory to attempt another conquest. Instead of doing this, which (God knows) would have been work enough, whilst they had a quarrel on one set of laws upon one principle, they made a series of new laws upon new principles, every one more odious, and every one ten times more difficult to execute than the former ; until, by seven years' labours, you had piled up a superstructure of oppression, which no foundation of authority, though laid in the depths of hell itself, was able to bear. When the Americans complained of one grievance, you sent them another, and another upon that ; as if men were to be reconciled to tyranny by the accumulation of its oppressions. Your quarrel now is not even in taxes. Oh, would to God it were no worse ! It is on no less than seven other heavy and grievous complaints, altogether making a system of tyranny. Tst. Treasons and misprisions of treason. 2nd. Stores. 3rd. On an indemnity and free pardon for all who murder under colour of office. APPENDIX. 425 4th. For an act which subverts justice, by enabling a governor to change the returning officer for every distinct cause. 5th. For an act to coerce a nation not yet assimilated, and to form a line of circumvallation of arbitrary povi'ers on the back of the colonies. 6th. For the worst of all, — the Boston Port Bill ; which, after making the satisfaction prescribed for the offence, finds no pardon ; which, after satisfying justice, proscribes for ever. 7th. The refus- ing petitions, — by which you abdicated. When you have got rid of these, I will admit that you are then resisted in commercial regulations, and that it is for your authority to make those regulations you are contesting. For the present, it is for a system of tyranny. These are the laws you have super- added to your original contention, and the worst and bitterest is upon the Boston Port Bill. Your second object, more dear to you, is, the counsellors which were the source of all your woes. Their power, and an honourable concession on the part of this country, I admit to be irrecon- cilable. The option, therefore, is between the ministry and your colonies. The end, if obtained, would be a sudden cessation of violence, without putting an end to discontent. If subdued by an army, an army must be kept up in peace, — doubled in war. You keep an army for France, to tyrannize over your people, — you become tributary to your enemies. Oh, the meanness of pride ! Oh, the impotence of unjust and overbearing force ! At length, then, you are come to this : — that your confidence is in the faith of the House of Bourbon, and our strength in the alliance of France and Spain ! The first object of governors is to know their people ; — second, to proportion the exertion to the object, — the moving force to the weight to be moved ; — third, to know their ground well, and to pro- vide in case of error or accidental mistake. Every thing you say of the restive and stubborn temper of America recoils upon yourself; for either you knew this temper, or you knew it not. If you knew it, why have you not, in eight years' time, provided against it ; if you knew it not, it was a criminal ignorance. To know the subject-matter and the art ; fleece your sheep, if you please, but don't take bristles for wool, and mistake a wolf for a sheep. 1st. Ignorance of the object. 2nd. Ignorance of the art. Not to know timber ; and then, not to understand how to work it. Look behind in order to accuse, and accuse in order to remedy. 426 APPENDIX. Every thing in executive government depends on wise men. If proper, support them ; if otherwise, you betray your trust. The question is, whether you will keep your ministry or your colonies. There is not an argument they use now, which was not held out then. There is not a disappointment of the present year, that was not a reiteration of the disappointment of every year during that period. You ought to have subdued them in the first campaign, for two reasons : — first, because their fury and animosity was not so great as it is now. Secondly, because, if you trust to the chapter of accidents, — your sacred anchor, — your main stay, — your great hold and grappling, — you have them less in your power every hour of delay. If ever a rupture with the colonies shall synchronise with a breach in Europe, it must be nearer now than it was seven years ago. I would not have this regarded as a mere mercantile consider- ation, nor give way merely because trade was distressed. I would not be outdone by America in a contention of virtue ; but I would know what it was that I risked ; and the vast stake I played for, would make me wish to be very sure that it was such a controversy upon my side ; and that I was very sure it was my justice, my honour, and my policy, that I was supporting by the ruin of the whole of my commercial interests ; — that I was not playing the fool in order to play the tyrant ; and that I was not beggaring myself in order to rob others. What are you at war for ? It was for the taxes ; then you were to proceed to enforce these taxes by arms, until your revenue was enforced by those armies which it was to maintain. If not for revenue, but for trade laws, then the strong arm of the military was to be used to enforce an obedience to trade laws. But, instead of doing this, while you had a quarrel on one set of laws on one prin- ciple, you made a series of new laws on new principles ; every one of which was as odious as the first ; and whatever was the begin- ning, your quarrel now is for the whole mass, and your worst and bitterest quarrels are on the last. It is in public, as in family and private quarrels ; it is a trifling difference at first, but the bitter quarrel is for the lie and the blow ; and in such a case it would be ridiculous to talk as such persons do, who are the paltry, partial, tiresome narrators of their own story ; — to say, in quarrels whether an egg was round or oval, when the blow was given for " liar and scoundrel." Let them tell this story to toad-eaters, &c., not to a national council. APPENDIX. 427 You are now come to the anxious crisis of the important matter before you. The labour of the House, for this session, is completed, and we are at length in a situation to view the whole system together. Now that you have finished, I wish that you may be able to look upon it with the satisfaction of a wise Creator in his accomphshed creature ; and to say with truth and triumph, that you see your work, and that all is good. Whatever the work may be, I see no Sabbath to succeed it. We have finished this work, only to commence a long series of long, long labours. We are launching out into a sea to which I can observe no shore, and the atmosphere is lowering upon every quarter. I will not conjecture ; — though the foresight of the evils involved in this measure is rather prophecy than divination. But let us set by this unpleasing image for a while, and consider the scheme which is comprehended in the acts, and in the two bills that are at present under consideration. I think they come so much from the same ideas, that however inconsistent in the provisions * * * :{: :{; :H :^ »i: :^^ The object of those laws is the single 6olony of Massachusetfs bay. They are to operate on their immediate object as punishment, on the rest as example ; an example to be followed by you and felt by them, unless they universally join to relax in their resistance to your practice of taxing them without their consent. And first, to fix some landmarks in the vast field of this infinite matter, in which I declare I scarce know where to end and where to begin, my mind is so charged and saturated with the subject. The first act concerning the harbour of Boston, is to take away from them benefits of nature. The second, to deprive them of their civil privileges ; and the third, to strip them of all their judicial rights. This severe and sharp act is not a punishment of individuals, but a proscription of whole cities and provinces ; a sort of execution which, in the first instance or consequentially, you ordain for almost a whole quarter of the globe. I do not know whether it arises from the most degenerate insensibility, or from the most magnanimous strain of heroic constancy ; but, whatever be the cause, I am beyond measure surprised that you seem to feel no sort of terror at the awfulness of the situation in which you are placed by Providence, or into which you thought proper to intrude yourselves. A whole people culprit ! Nations under accusation ! A tribunal erected for commonwealths ! This is no vulgar idea, and no trivial under- '■' The MS. is imperfect here. 428 APPENDIX. taking ; it makes me shudder. I confess that, in comparison of the magnitude of the situation, I feel myself shrunk to nothing. ■Next to that tremendous day in which it is revealed that the saints of God shall judge the world, I know nothing that fills my mind with greater apprehension ; and yet I see the matter trifled with, as if it were the beaten routine, an ordinary quarter-session, or a paltry course of common gaol-delivery. It has not been so handled as it ought. The colonies have not been treated wjth that enlarged, liberal, substantial justice, which confers a becoming reverence and majesty on a seat of imperial judicature. Nor, on the other hand, do we seem to proceed with that violent and rapid course of domineering injustice, which, scorning to be fettered by equity and much more empty forms, fascinates the weakness of mankind, and bows the world before you, as to wicked beings, but of a superior order. If we lose our dominions, I am not surprised at it. We do not seem, by our virtues or our faults, to be a people qualified for empire. We do not proceed, (you will pardon a boldness which arises from infinite regard to the object, and not from the smallest disrespect to you,) we do not proceed as if we had any thing like a thorough sense of the importance of what we are about ; — for instance, T don't know what is meant by making an example of a whole people. I have said a little on the style of the justice or injustice which ought to be used, proportioned to the magnitude of the object. The next is, the quality of the object which you are governing in this manner. They are Englishmen. They went out from you at a time when you were not quite so civihzed and disciplined to obedience as you are to-day. They were the most unmanageable part of an unmanageable people. They were not content to wait until things were ripe for general resistance. Then, they are of a repubUcan religion. This has been their nature. Their educa- tion has been democratical ;— their first charter merely demo- cratical ; their second, such as you now think to alter for being still too much so. They have not been softened by ease and luxury. The genial warmth of court influence has not yet miti- gated the rigour of that barbarous and rustic love of Hberty. Hard works on land ; rough lives at sea ; — these have been the habits that finish the nature and education of most of your American colonies. These are the people to whom you propose to be content and happy under a state of military servitude, stripped of every mark and character of a free people. The thing is absolutely impos- sible. If, indeed, the question were upon the miserable inhabitants of Bengal, who are submissive (as they have been well described) APPENDIX. 429 by nature, religion, and inveterate custom, — have been formed to obedience, and where the only question is, to whom they shall be slaves, they expect, they desire no liberty. How well thought ! — to force juries on them, and to take them away from the English in another hemisphere ! Then you never allow for the distance of the object ; you cannot govern there by a military power. Remote provinces must be governed with a light hand, because the very army that governs them will be impossible to be governed itself; and that very military authority which you set up to govern against the genius of a people, will become the very means of putting an end to your authority. It is absolutely impossible to govern, from England, upon such principles. You must vest your military despot with an absolute authority to act pro re nata. The state of things may be totally altered within the four months necessary for your communication. Military power is a good ally to government, — the worst of all substitutes for it. After the remoteness of the object, consider the nature of man- kind, averse to the worst of all tyrannies — a republic despotism ; that is, the entire subjection of one people to another, where the ruling nation has all the power, and the other lies under a base servitude. They may obey a king ; because, all happiness being comparative, they see nothing better in any part of his dominions ; because they may grow enthusiastically fond of him ; because they may unite in him the rays of national pride ; and because they may make the greatness of his power the object of the public glory. Removed from their sight, they may imagine him as a sort of emanation of the divinity ; but to see the gross terrestrial concrete of millions of people, — all the lees of seven millions, — every one free but themselves, this is against the nature of mankind, and they will not bear it. Therefore, whether this evil breaks out into an immediate com- bination, (which for us is by far the most desirable,) or whether it will he rankling and festering at their hearts, — manifesting itself in a sullen, stubborn disobedience to all your acts, until, finding you in some state of public disaster, engaged, and perhaps unfor- tunately engaged in war, they will add their revolt and attack to complete your ruin, and to sink you into the abyss of slavery and perdition : — qvad procul. 430 APPENDIX. This charter of incorporation, with all its peculiar parts and cir- cumstances, forms an entire franchise ; the exercise of a corporate right, agreeably to the mode of its tenure. A franchise I cannot persuade myself to be a matter of mere indifference to those who hold it. It is a valuable right, and is so considered in the eye of the law. The law never appoints any remedy except for things which are deemed possessions of value. If a man is prejudiced of his portion of it, a mandamus lies to restore him. If the body corporate is injured in it, their action lies against those who interrupt them. A franchise being, therefore, a valuable possession, it is pro- tected by the law, and cannot be lost but by the delinquency of the individuals or of the body. Magna Gharta, on this principle, has ma;de as express a provision for franchises, as for life or liberty. It has included the whole in the same article. It has provided that they should not be forfeited except by the judgment of the peers or the law of the land. If, then, the delinquency be the ground of the forfeiture, it is of the substance of the law of this land, and it is of the substance of all .law of all lands, and of all the principles of justice, 1st, That the party accused must be summoned to appear; 2nd, That the delinquency be proved; 3rd, That the persons claiming the franchise should be heard in their own defence by themselves or their counsel. To say that this is not a forfeiture, but a regulation, is to add insult to injury. Change of names makes no alteration in the essence of things. It is a great comfort to the man who loses a valuable right, that he loses it for regulation, and not for punish- ment. Truly, his condition is finely mended. If he is charged with a delinquency, he can make his defence ; he will be confronted with the adversary and his witnesses, his own will be examined, every question of fact will have its issue, every matter of law its argument. It is not an arbitrary value that is set on a franchise ; it is the share that every man has in the government of his country. The form of a constitution under which a man lives is generally one of the dearest objects to him. Oceans of blood have been shed in this country, in other countries, and in all times, upon the form of government only. What were almost all the wars in all the cities of Greece, but on the quantity of democratic power which ought to be in each constitution ? A regulation diminishing the extent of a right, is, pro tanto, a forfeiture of it. If I have a right to elect a certain magistrate, to APPENDIX. 431 place that election in another is surely to take away the right and interest I have in the choice of the officer ; though the same remain as to the office, my share in it is gone. To say you take it away to give a better, is to set your judgment on a man's good in the place of his own, which is a definition of civil servitude. This act being, therefore, to take away the rights of men, which by law could only be taken away for delinquency, is, to all intents and purposes, a bill of pains and penalties, a bill for punishing some delinquency by the power of parliament, which the ordinary process of law cannot reach. Whether regulation or penalty, the substance is, that the party loses something by it, and he has a right to be heard. But if you proceed by regulation, he suffers the very same punishment without having one of the same means of defence. According, therefore, to this new mode, a man stands better with a charge of high crimes and misdemeanors against him, than when he is charged with no deUnquency at all. So a man may be regulated out of his liberty, his property, and his life. One regulation leads to another; or, as Lord North expresses it, one necessity leads to another. Sup- pose you find that the assembly is as untractable as the council ; you may regulate the assembly ; you may, by regulating, annihilate it, and send over a bashaw of one or three tails to govern the colony ; by your legislative power you may do all this, but if you refuse to hear the parties, you may take away the whole charter, piecemeal, without one word of accusation, hearing, trial, witness, or law. The weak and distempered state of government in America was not caused by the Stamp Act solely, nor was it to be removed solely by the repeal. It arose from original defects in that government itself. The repeal, indeed, was a most necessary leading measure to the settlement of that part of the empire ; and, therefore, it was a measure most worthy of your dignity and your wisdom ; but he must have been worse than ignorant who believed this measure to be sufficient. It was a foundation, indeed, for building up a great plan of strong and just government, formed upon principles of equity and freedom, as well as of strict subordination ; but a repeal of a law never could be a plan of legislature. I depend for the good behaviour of subjects upon their gratitude. Miserable is that government which depends for obedience upon 432 APPENDIX. the virtue of its people, and not on the wisdom, the temper, and the firmness of its own policy. Since then we saw a change. The late chancellor of the exche- quer loved to please every body ; make, repeal, make again. An unstable government will ever have a disobedient people. The policy is to form an American revenue, new and sufficient, or to enforce the old duty on tea ; — the war of the pepper-corn. The three acts to be considered as one body of American politics. The arguments of their proposers are to show in what light they are to be taken, and how they are to be pursued. How former errors necessitate the latter, I will not examine. You propose that these measures shall content America, and put it into good humour; so that for the future, yeu may govern without an army, or terrify them into such an acquiescence, that the terror of your power here may be the substitute for an army there ; and that this fear will ride upon their minds, and enable you to govern upon principles that are pleasant to you, though universally disgust- ful to them. If, however, such measures will not content America, — will not produce the flow of good humour ; or if it be the nature of men to be so elastic, that the very moment the weight is off it will rise again, and not be kept down by any force but that which immediately presses, — (that this must be the case, you know,) — then you cannot govern without an army. Therefore you must govern with an army, or not at all. Here is laid the foundation of military government, — purely and simply a military government ; — a government of soldiers and custom-house officers ; — and this is now resolved on. I say so, because no one has argued from the present good disposition of America, no one has argued from their probable future good humour. Nobody has urged the strength of the posts there, which these forces are to sup- port. But whether you can provide a revenue, either there or here to furnish a sufficient standing army for such a government, you ought to ask,— What education have they had! Freedom !— What is their nature ? Englishmen ! You have laid a false foundation,— that they will be satisfied not to be governed as a free people. The act cannot be final,— must be an example ; the example and lesson to be drawn from hence is, that you will diminish privilege after privilege. " Light after light goes out, and all is night !" APPENDIX. 433 The argument stands thus : — You must be an object of revenue. If you are, you are slaves to all intents and purposes. If you resist, you are then to be deprived even of those exterior marks of freedom which you possessed, and become slaves, as well in appearance, as in reality. It is of no use to rail at America. Nobody has ever railed down a fever. These are not the charms that cure the ague that shakes us ; these are not the mrla et voces quihus hunc lenire dolorem. The more vehemently you argue against them, the more you show the universality and danger of the distemper, the poverty of your indica- tion, and, possibly, the inefficacy of all your remedies. If I were worthy to say what is fit to be done in so exalted a situation, I should think it imprudent to state these American dis- orders quite so high. It is not politic to do so, for many serious reasons. You are not certain that the measure is equal to the principle. Its operation is distant in time and in place ; and at best, it must be very uncertain. You may find some lenity advisable when, after this, you can hardly adopt it with honour or reject it with safety. ****** I trespass on you with less reluctance, because the worst that can happen to you, or to me, is to tire your patience. I can, I know very well, convince nobody ; yet, to a certain degree, I go on. I acquit my conscience ; I discharge my mind at random ; I sow, broadcast, seeds of ideas, thousands of which perish, and perhaps deserve to perish ; but I have observed, here and there, that some shoot up, at some time, or in some shape or other, which is harvest enough for husbandry so poor as mine. American Colonies. I WAS ever of opinion that every considerable part of the British dominions should be governed as a free country, otherwise I knew that if it grew to strength, and was favoured with opportunity, it would soon shake off the yoke, intolerable in itself to all liberal minds, and less to be borne from England than from any country in the world. Description of the mode of carrying on War against the Colonies hy Acts of Parliament. Among the many odious, nameless things which are bred out of the rank rottenness of our civil disorders, the worst is the daily VOL. II. F f 434 APPENDIX. formation of acts of parliament against the spirit of laws, the prin- ciples of legislation, and all the fundamental rules of sound policy. In other civil wars, all the mischiefs were mischiefs of the sword. In that tumult, laws were silent. Inter anna silebant leges. Happily, very happily, they were so ; because if they learned the language of civil dissension, they had spoken no longer the language of laws, which are and ought to be nothing but the organ of reason, equity, and justice. But this endence (written after they had sustained a defeat). The Americans — as I have and do repute them the first of men to whom I owe eternal thanks for making me think better of my nature — though they have been obliged to fall down at the present before the professional armies of Germany, have yet afforded a dawning hope by the stand they have made, that in some corner of the globe, at some time, or in some circumstances or other, the citizen may not be the slave of the soldier. American War. How long shall we remain in the porch of mischief and disgrace, before we enter into the temple of victory and honour ? The grand betrayer, hope, is our sole friend— the great sweetener and the great deluder of life. There is a period of things between the best and the worst, which is perhaps not the most unfit for recollection and change of system. It is time that great wealth and power can endure great errors ; but in everything there is a maximum beyond which no power can sustain itself. It is often the very misfortune of power that it is too fond of trying this extent, and, confiding in its own greatness, despises the lessons of prudence and caution. Moderate strength, alliance with wisdom, has often carried men and nations through APPENDIX. 435 great perils, where the greatest power has been destroyed, when joined with obstinacy and presumption. Effect of Peace o/1782. Acknowledgment of Independence of America. A GREAT revolution has happened — a revolution made, not by chopping and changing of power in any of the existing states, but by the appearance of a new state, of a new species, in a new part of the globe. It has made as great a change in all the relations, and balances, and gravitations of power, as the appearance of a new planet would in the system of the solar world. " Aspice converso mutantem pondere mundum, Terrarum tractusque maris, ccelumque profundum." On a Financial Measure during the American War. In this state I am by no means disposed to enter into the value of the bargain you make, whether three or four or five per cent. I wish it were of any avail to scrutinize these matters so nicely : but our condition is not so happy. The accurate account of irra- tional expenditure, the nice economy of boundless profusion, the careful husbandry of bankruptcy and ruin, may be curious opera- tions, but sure they are disgustful employment. Militia. All evils are first introduced by slow degrees, on plausible pre- tences, and on popular grounds. It is a great problem to reconcile defence with liberty. Jealousy of all military power is fundamental in all free states. The militia by late acts has been brought very nearly to a regular army. As it has approached the true military standard, it has departed from the constitution. An armed people is the true constitutional militia of the kingdom. Whigs. It is possible enough that the Whigs of former times may have been guilty of some faults, and fallen into some mistakes. If they F f ? 436 APPENDIX. have, let the Whigs of this day avoid their errors, and act more consistently with their own principles. Let the Tories value themselves upon a faithful adherence to every old error, and a steady perseverance in every false maxim. They are universal assertors of hereditary right, and will take care to err with their forefathers. They will fight for the error of their forefathers, as for their freehold. But let us take the reverse method ; and instead of following the errors of the Whigs, if there was any thing right in the principle or the pretences of the Tories, let us adopt it. Criminal Law. I HAVE always admired in the economy of our manufactories the profitable purposes to which they often turn the refuse materials of their work. Out of this refuse they create new materials of new manufactures, and sometimes enrich themselves as much by what was sacrificed in the first design, as by their original pursuit. The statesman of the highest order ought not to be too proud to draw hints from arts and trades. We are sent by Divine Wis- dom yet lower for instruction ; " go to the ant, thou sluggard." We might, by the application of the same principles, turn the refuse and disgrace of society to its greatest benefit and to its brightest ornament. From the guilt and crimes of this country, our wisdom might produce blessings and ornaments to the world. Agriculture might cover, with the richest harvests, the soil now buried in cold, gloomy, and unprofitable forests. The arts that dignify our species might shine in a desert, and the praises of God be chanted by five hundred melodious voices and tuned instruments, where nothing is now heard but the howling of wild beasts. There is great difficulty to reconcile humanity with safety, and what we owe from paternal compassion to human weakness with indignation against vices and crimes— death is cutting the Gordian knot— some great plan might be devised for putting an end to by far the greater number of capital punishments, by showing that they are not necessary.— My chief reason for preferring transporta- tion to labour (at home), is not to habituate man to the sight of servitude : but where we cannot transport, I prefer it to any other punishment, as severe to the criminal and useful to the public. I have no great idea of the benefit of such labour, but if I can save life, every thing which is not lost, is to be computed for gain. APPENDIX. 437 They are the diseased and infirm part of our country, which we must treat with sharpness indeed, but with all the tenderness in our power. They are under cure ; and that is a state which calls for tenderness, and diligence, and great consideration. We are in a great hospital, and it ill becomes us to be angry with our patients. We are not at liberty to dispose of the lives of men according to our will and pleasure. Criminal law is the science of nature, in that point of view, made out by experiment and by reason. We dis- cover, but we do not make its rules; and we have to look to neglects of duty, not only on the part of others, but of ourselves, lest our crimes should be greater than theirs. If we have taken no care to prevent crimes, we act cruelly in punishing men for faults in which we were accomplices. Arbitrary Power. Those who endeavour to soften the features of arbitrary power, represent its violent exertions as being extremely rare, and as affecting very few persons. They observe that life is no more em- bittered by the fear of such acts of tyranny, than it is by the dread of earthquakes in countries where they are known not to happen frequently. This is, I think, the most favourable point of view in which a government without law can be considered. Storming tlie Closet. " Storming the closet" — a cant word, and there are a host of in- vidious names for every thing ; but as it is commonly understood, and has ever been applied, I should never quarrel with it. I know no other honourable way of coming into the closet. It signifies an attempt to persuade the king to appoint the ministers and servants of the nation, not on motives of a private, but public nature — by the sense which parliament and the people entertain of their integrity, public spirit, ability, diligence, and suc- cess. This is what is called " storming the closet." No objection to mining and sapping the closet — to appointing ministers by in- trigue, cabal, treachery, by tales, by whispers, by women's tattle, but never by parUament. This is the case of absolute monarchies, and this one of the blessings of that kind of government. As we approach to it, we increase this kmd of blessing, and we feel the effects of it. 438 APPENDIX. Faction. The test which discriminates faction is founded in the eternal nature of things, which you can never note down or address away. The test of faction is the resolution to support, or continue the power of some set of men, totally independent of their wisdom or their weakness, of the good or the evil effect of then; counsels. I HAVE no opinion of the dead letter of laws or proper politics. I know that the whole of government is in the wisdom of those by whom it is executed. It is by vigilance to watch all opportunities, by sagacity to know them, celerity, industry, and vigour to pursue and propose them, that it has ever done, and ever alone can do great things. It is to know the temper of man and to manage it with judgment, that is government; and if those who rule have not a reasonable human proportion of these qualities, it is vain to expect any thing of them. It is mind that works on mind. Men are not governed as with a charm by a dead form of words, nor this great mysterious whole held together by chains, made out of shreds of parchment. However, there are certain great principles, certain fundamental maxims, to which public conduct is directed; which when known and recorded, prove a sort of rule to those who govern, and become a security which gives great ease and comfort to those who are in subjection. Canada Bill of \1l4i. The right of conquest on one hand, the rights of nature on the other. The first means only the power of acting absurdly or wickedly. The next are the inviolable charter of mankind. I am not able to get to the bottom of all these controversies, but understand geography enough to know, that if we hold no toleration is to be granted to them, we declare ourselves enemies to mankind to the best of our power. To establish our political institutions, not for the civil happiness of the peoiple, but for their conversion to some religious tenet, never has failed and never can fail of being infinitely mischievous. APPENDIX. 439 Office Bill introduced ly Mr. W. Pitt in 1785. It was the remark of an observing and pleasant man, that he would engage to attaint half the House of Commons, without their having the least knowledge of the matter. I wish it to be considered that those who serve the state are a very numerous body, and that debasing and enslaving them wiU go deep in vitiating the whole mass of the people. However you may rate office, all the world takes its tone from thence according to their ranks ; and their servility and baseness will and must be the servility and baseness of the whole kingdom. That having no honour or character, they will become mere eye servants, and the business of every department wiU be done without skill, foresight, zeal, energy, and activity. It is essential, not only to avoid pecuniary corruption, (which I believe and hope will be found very rare,) but that business shall be done vdth alacrity and love of reputation. When the spirit of office is gone, every thing is gone along with it ; but when you put your whole system under a degrading inquisition, while the whip is over it, you may see some- thing done ; but when that is removed, the debasement remains, and the servile vices begin to gain ground ; and for the class of servile vices there is no cure. Speech at County Meeting of Bucks, 1784. The people never give up their liberties but under some delusion. The great give them up by design. Aristocracy. I AM accused, I am told, of being a man of aristocratic principles. If by aristocracy they mean the peers, I have no vulgar admiration nor any vulgar antipathy towards them. I hold their order in cold and decent respect. I hold them to be of an absolute necessity in the constitution, but I think they are only good when kept within proper bounds. 440 APPENDIX. Policy of the British Government with regard to France. The grand principle of French policy is to gain a superiority in naval power over England. This is so, notwithstanding that Lord North IS of opinion, by virtue of a discovery for the first time made by a British minister, that we have no reason to suppose that France believes us her most formidable enemy,— probably one reason for his seeing this armament go on ; for, presuming that France had enemies more formidable, she was preparing that fleet agamst them,— not against us. She was preparing to act against Prussia, or Austria, with her fleet. But, whatever we thought of the poUcy of France, it was undoubtedly our policy, not so far to trust to the use they might make of their force, as to leave our- selves weaker than they. The moment it became certain that we were to have a war with America, that moment it became very pro- bable that we should have a war with France. Whenever a state enters into a civil war, she is to look to her neighbours. A war with France, in a long-continued course of hostility, must be reckoned as a certainty. To show ourselves prepared for it, is the very best way to prevent it, or at worst, to meet it. It was there- fore our interest to prevent it or to prepare for it. It is remarked that we have, as a nation, a disposition to clumsy mimicking of French manners. We followed France, but with the slow and awkward pace of servile imitators. When she interfered to humble Portugal, we interfered hkewise to humble Portugal. When she made a treaty with America, we attempted to make peace with America. When she sent out a fleet to America, we sent out a fleet after it. When she had collected a vast fleet at Brest, we thought of adding to the six ships we had at Portsmouth ; — and thus, always weaker, always later than France. Our whole policy was military ; — we never dreamt of any other. We rejected conciliation with America, until we found that she had made a treaty with France. We had provided no alliance whatever; therefore, our whole dependence was on our naval strength. It was the more necessary to attend to it in Europe, because there was necessarily a considerable diversion from it by the operations in America. All these considerations made it necessary to prepare, and we had three entire years for that preparation. Lord North and the American War. There are several ways of losing an empire. One, for the ways to ryiin are infinite, is a premeditated ignorance of our true situation. APPENDIX. 441 I expected a great map to be unrolled, on the largest scale. I was surprised, and with some degree of indignation, when, in the committee, my honourable friend, stating the haughtiness of these gentlemen under our misfortunes, in a speech which would have done honour to Athens in her proudest state, censured the style of argument of a great statesman of antiquity, and found Demosthenes in the wrong, when, &e. — He thought that there was great eloquence and but little reason in his argument. But how could my honourable friend degrade his own talent so much as to think that there could be any real eloquence, any that could stand the test of time and command the admiration of ages, except in just sentiment and in sound reason ? There is an exalted principle, and there is an heroic prudence, which are not the less just and true, but the more true and the more just, because they are nearer to the correct standard of perfect nature, and not muddled and concocted with the dregs of mean passions and httle views. For these, the great man I mention founded the most glorious defence of a long series of public conduct that the world ever heard. * * I really think it proper that we should take a review, from time to time, of the American war, on some sort of principle. That we should consider it as a thing referrible to some sort of design or some certain end, in order to see whether this end is rational and important ; for I see very plainly, that upon whatever motives we originally entered into this war, (what nobody is to be praised or blamed for,) we continue it at present, not from reason, but from habit. We consider it as a thing belonging to us, — as a necessary part of our natural constitution ; a thing to exercise our hopes and fears, our exultation and depression, (as we hear what we call good or bad news,) but not at all as a matter of counsel and deliberation ; that seems every day to get more and more out of sight. Whenever we state the desperate condition of our affairs in America, the answer is, " Very bad indeed ! But how will you get out of it?" and this is spoken with a sort of tone of triumph. The noble lord exalts his voice with double force, — expands his chest,- — • throws about his arms, — crows, and chuckles, and flutters, as if he had laid his adversaries dead at his feet. This discussion is not a question of deliberation ; it has some- thing criminal in it ; we have culprits before us. The war is the least part of itself, pars minima est ipsa puella sui, — the apparatus, the ordnance, the transports, the clothing. When the steward is prodigal, it is not merely his prodigality ; all partake of it. If I had a mind to charge a minister that I thought could only serve his country by giving up his post, I would take, for matter of 442 APPENDIX. charge, the subject of the noble lord's defence ; for I would state, that his prince and his country having, for six years together, trusted him with all its actual wealth and the whole stretch of its credit, with all its forces by sea and land, and trusted with the most unlimited confidence for near seven years ; and that, by his negli- gence, his incapacity, his ignorance, and treachery, he had reduced his country to such difficulties, that he challenges the whole collec- tive wisdom of mankind to find a way out of it. This would be my charge. It is the noble lord's defence against accusation. It is his title to power and favour, and his argument in favour of himself and his politics. But I am not now in a regular impeachment. I cannot admit that the noble lord's despair of getting out of the American war furnishes a good reason for us to continue it. I am bold to say that this is a shocking and indecent way of talking, and goes on a great variety of silly suppositions ; for it goes on a pre- sumption, that no wisdom can furnish means of doing what he or the gentleman or two on this side of the House cannot. That only supposes that what they cannot do is not to be done by mankind. Now, though I think as well of my honourable friend's abilities as any man can think of them, I cannot flatter him so much as the noble lord does. But it supposes, too, that what a man, uninformed of the interior state of the business, is too wise to promise without that knowledge, is impossible. If, then, the impossibility of getting out of the war becomes a reason for continuing it, I ask, — is that reason only temporary ? — impossible just at this moment ? — or is it likely to remain for ever ! If the chance of this impossibility be perpetual, then the assertion amounts to this, — that we must have an eternal war ; but if it be only arising from temporary difficulties, then you are bound to show that, from the nature and distribution of your forces, these difficulties are likely to cease, and that what is not practicable this year will be practicable next. ***** * *** ***** He (Lord George Germain) does not assert that it is physically impracticable to get out of it. He only asserts that we must make a bad and dishonourable peace. Considering the claims and grounds on which we went to war, I think so. This is bad enough ; but there are degrees in bad treaties of peace. He is to show that, by continuing the war indefinitely, the treaty is likely to be the better. His objections to peace are, 1st, American indepen- dency ; — 2nd, their connexion with France, and Spain, and Holland. If their disconnexion be the object, you must show that warring on them is the way to disconnect them, or that you can subdue them altogether. APPENDIX. 443 Hope is the principle of activity ; without holding out hope, to desire one to advance is absurd and senseless. Suppose, without a sous in my hand, one were to say, " exert yourself, for there is no hope," — it would be to turn me into ridicule, and not to advise me. To hold out to me the hopelessness of my condition never was a reason for exertion ; for when, ultimately, equal evils attend upon exertion and rest, rest has clearly the preference. * * ^Z Hi ^ ik Stf dC ^ Stf ^If A wise man always walks with his scale to measure, and his balances to weigh, in his hand. If he cannot have the best, he asks himself if he cannot have the next best. But if he comes to the point of graduation where all positive good ceases, he asks him- self next, what is the least evil ; and, on a view of the dovraward comparison, he considers and embraces that least evil as compara- tive good. Upon this principle, if we were to make a peace directly vdth America, on terms of absolute independence, I am not called upon to assert that it would be good for us. I may admit it as a great evil, without any sort of prejudice to my argument ; but I have no doubt to assert, that this evil to-day, would be far less than the same evil two years hence, when we may have wasted forty millions of money, and twenty thousand lives more in the struggle. Now, if no hope is held out, or no other hope than that which is so blown, so faded, so worn out, that the mention of it is the greatest of all inducements to despair, then the option we make is this : we choose the independence of America, aggravated with two years' charge, preferably to the same independence free from all this load of evil ; — a preference never made by any people in their senses. To say that if we carried the war out of their country they would fall upon us somewhere else, is to say that they are better calculated, by their situation, for an offensive than a defensive war ; in direct contradiction to all that is known by so much melancholy experi- ence of America, where their disposition, situation, and every thing, so leads them to the defensive. But if you suppose them to invade you in England or the West Indies, do you then think that 80,000 men and twenty millions of money would not better enable you to repel them than to subdue them ? — an absurdity so gross, that I do not know how it ever entered into the head of man. "But they would still aid France and Spain, and would not make peace upon gaining independency." — Let us examine this likewise. What are you in war with France and Spain about? Why, about this very same independence of America. I would rather 444 APPENDIX. make peace with all these powers, than bring America on your back ; unless you say that, after the point is given up, you will still continue the war. If you do, (for I have now nothing to do with the policy of it, one way or the other,) do you think that the use of 50,000 men, and all the consequences, would not give you an advantage against them 2 I ask now, — advanced in June, — the campaign of South Carolina being over, and that of the northern to begin, — does he not know (because he has set^ed the plans of both) that Sir Henry Clinton is preparing a vigorous offensive campaign against General Wash- ington ? There is the caput rerum. If not, they are superior to you in every part of America, and the pillar of your hope is over- thrown. If Clinton has not done his duty, is he to be continued by ministers for the pleasure of railing at him ? He executes their plans, or he does not. ****** I thank my friend for giving us one more opportunity, before we depart, of considering this subject. By all the temperate forbear- ance of our forefathers in forming and maturing these colonies, that were the glory of humanity and the pride of the improved virtue and wisdom of the modern world, — by all the blood and treasure wasted in losing them, — by all our own errors, — by every feeling with which we mean to honour our nature when we call it humanity, — let us be content with all our former mistakes, and at length * Vfi JJC t^ 5J% *JC t* ?l^ *!* 5|C Hints for a Treaty with America. (Probably, 1778 *.) That this empire, being unhappily at present divided into two adverse parts, it is the interest, and ought to be the wish of both to reunite. That it is the permanent interest of both, to prevent either part, from weakness, or fear, or jealousy, or any other cause, from being ever dependent, more or less, upon France. That the connexion between England and America is natural, from all the sources of connexion ; — that of France with either, is not so. It had been desirable that the original connexion should never have been interrupted ; and that they had mutually respected, with- out having actually tried each other's strength. * Lord North's bill for appointing commissioners with powers to treat, &c., was brought into the House, Feb. 19, 1778. APPENDIX. 445 Each party feels the power of the other ; — we, that America is not to be conquered ; — they, that England is not a power to be provoked with impunity, and without bringing infinite calamities upon the country with which she is engaged. The knowledge of our mutual power of serving and hurting each other, becomes a ground for a rational and permanent con- nexion. That our old affections may be revived ; and endeavours ought to be mutually used for that purpose. That there are a great number, and among that number very con- siderable people, who have always had the most cordial regards for America ; and, on that account, have suffered a total proscription from court, and no slight temporary unpopularity from the nation. That these people, commonly called the Whigs, have ever been favourable to the universal freedom of the empire ; and have desired the subordination of any part no further than has appeared to them necessary to that perfect union of the whole, which is, and has been, at all times, their first and dearest object. If that union, now unhappily broken by measures in which these persons have not had the smallest share, can be restored by that party which they do and have opposed, forgetful of every other consideration, they will give them an honest support in any plans that may be mutually agreed upon between the ministry and the congress of America. This mode of treaty they conceive to be attended with one capital advantage ; that the enemies of America are in power here, and have, therefore, the means of proposing such terms of accommodation as they can immediately execute. But if America should be so irritated in the present instant, or so doubtful of a perfect security in future, from a reconcilement patched up on necessity, then they must look to some other people here, if they wish to make or preserve any terms with England. On what footing, or on what concessions, the ministry mean to treat, is not known. Both the position and the terms on which the Whigs will treat, (if they should be found in a condition to treat at all,) are perfectly known, — at least in the principal lines. First, they are not inclined, for the present, to controvert the in- dependence of America, as a situation. She is de facto independent ; and there is attendant on so great a misfortune one advantage, that she is in a posture in which she can treat, and on which there is no dispute that her stipulations are perfectly obligatory. This is the publicly declared opinion of the Duke of P , in the House of Lords, and of Mr. F. and Mr. B., in the House of Commons. But the Whigs wish to treat upon that footing,^ — not to continue a 446 APPENDIX. separation, but to reproduce a connexion suitable to the nature and circumstances of things. Next, as to the terms. If many of us were to settle them, the negotiation would be very short. The terms would be just what America, no longer irritated, should think best for her own advan- tage ; because we are very clear that such would not differ essen- tially from those which Great Britain, for her own sake, ought to desire. But America, i£ she really wishes a reunion with England, must consult the credit of her friends in their own country. If they should make what is called a bad peace, they will be for ever dis- graced, and will lose that authority which is necessary to preserve them as a strong bond of connexion between the two countries. Therefore, it would be advisable that America should yield something to us ; such as, — first, a recognition of the sovereignty of the king ; for this country, being essentially monarchical, there is no other way of uniting its members but under the supremacy of the crovm. — Secondly, some marked preference (which might be more than returned) in trade, and as near as circumstances can permit to the act of navigation (this act is much the favourite of the people here, and would not be so disadvantageous to America as it is commonly thought) ; but this would admit of many tempera- ments. — Thirdly, some sort of contingent of men, ships, money, &c., in case of foreign wars ; this would reconcile the minds of people here to the pacification. Perfect satisfaction would be given, as to any or all the acts of parliament, whether enacting or declaratory. At present they are suspended, and the authority of the crown and parliament sufifers a sort of discontinuance ; so that what is to be done with regard to the objects of these acts must arise rather from the new treaty than from the obligation of the ancient laws. The business of taxation would not admit the least dispute. An amicable spirit would soon settle every thing. In a word, this is the spirit in which the body of the Whigs would treat. But if any others can treat in a more acceptable manner, they have their best wishes ; being far more anxious for this union at any rate, than for any personal or party advantage. APPENDIX. 447 Notes for Speech, — Contractors' Bill'. The point on which the nation is now at issue with the noble lord is corrupt influence. The question is, whether a contract is influence, and whether it is an influence apt to corrupt : that is, apt to lead the mind of the member who has it to an obedience to him that gives it ? The principle of not suffering too great a dependence on the crown of the members of this House is the principle of this motion. The questions are, — whether that principle of policy is constitu- tional ? — whether it be justified by the practice of our ancestors ? — and whether it is properly applied in the present case ? Not to suffer new places to come into parliament, and to be mul- tiplied ad infinitum with an indefinite value. One contract may be worth all the places in this House. As to merchants, the question has nothing to do with them. Two observations concerning them : — 1st, Never, on any matter of trade, law, theology, politics, are they diligent in attendance ; 2nd, not one merchant voting with ministry without a contract ; which shows why they come here. Contracts are not professional. If Mr. Harley would not take a contract from this side of the House if in power, it is plain he thinks a contract an object of favour and an obligation ; — a matter of con- nexion with the government that gives it, or he would receive it equally from any man. He is a banker ; would he refuse cash from the most violent Whig in the kingdom ? He is a wine- merchant ; would he refuse to sell a hogshead of wine, though he were sure it was all to be squandered in drinking the memories of Walpole, Pelham, and Townshend, and others more obnoxious ? Why ? because his trade has no connexion with his politics ; his contract has. Take it in another view. One of his contracts is a clothes' contract. If I took him a bill to discount, he never would enter into the politics of the drawer or the indorser ; but if any one that sits near me sent to him for a certain number of livery-suits, he would turn away the messenger who was come to laugh at him. All this would be right ; for what man, who had a suit to make, ever dreamed of sending for a wine-merchant ? Did any colonel, who wanted to clothe his regiment, ever think of sending to his banker ? ^ These notes were probably made with reference to Sir P. Jennings Gierke's bill, in 1778, for depriving contractors of seats in the House of Commons. Vide note, vol. i. p. 364. 448 APPENDIX. Did any man, who wanted a complete set of new liveries, ever think of applying to the privy-councillor ? Merchants have no more experience or knowledge, out of the line of their particular trades, than other men ; and sometimes they have less. Suppose I got — suppose the lord-advocate got a con- tract for oatmeal for the navy, and the attorney-general for biscuits ; —suppose one contracted for beer, and the other for beef, though neither of them ***** It is plainly out of, their line. Dialogue between a Contractor and a Citizen. A FllAGMENT. Well, if it is so, I must have patience ; I am afraid there is no hope. Contractor. As sure as you live, the king is his own minister, and, therefore, all your complaints are ridiculous. Had you not better be one among us ? Unanimity is the word. You do not mean to make a revolution ? You would not bring in the Pretender, would you ? Cit. No ; not that. Con. Why, then, what would you do ? Cit. I can tell much more easily what I feel, than what I am to do. I will think of that when I see my way a little more clearly. I don't like this story of the king's being his own minister, and am not inclined to believe a word of it. If he be, one thing I am quite certain of, — he is the worst minister, as he is the best king,in^he world. Nothing turns out right in his hands. I rather think that a pack of wretches are got about him, who delude and deceive him for their own vile purposes. These we can turn out, if incapable ; punish, if guilty. His public assertion was not publicly denied, nor privately, that ever I beard of; and it tallies exactly with the declaration of Charles the First, when his parliament used to accuse his evil advisers and malignant persons about him; his answer always was, that the things complained of were solely his own. He was so far from denying it, that he used to express very great indignation and resentment at their continuing to charge his coun- sellors, after his frequent and solemn exculpations of them. Lord Clarendon (and he is above all exception) is my voucher for this. By this means he forced himself into the responsible situation. You know the consequences. Charles the Second trod in his steps. Sir William Temple is as explicit as Lord Clarendon, and much more APPENDIX. 449 minute and satisfactoiy. You will see how much merely nominal a thing his ministry was, during the far greater part of his reign. Con. Yet you see he got the better of all his opposers, and of all his sets of ministers too ; who, in their turn, from his instruments, became opposers. He was an easy, good-natured man, and bore faction as long as faction could be borne. He bore it till patience came to require a greater exertion than resistance. His sloth was then conquered. Then he roused himself, and the course he took was manly. He brought things to a plain issue, and drove the nation to this simple and distinct alternative, — either to bear his measures, or to risk the miseries of a civil war in the kingdom. From that moment they made the choice. He, besides, threw him- self on the old party of the church and monarchy, which'was sure ground. It was his folly ever to depart from it. He called upon the Tories, and they carried him through nobly. Cit. You think that example a good one ? Con. I do, as far as success proves a measure to be right ; and I think I am as well founded in quoting the successful example of Charles the Second as you can be in urging the ill success of King James. Cit. The Pretender is a foolish business. The fault of that family is obstinacy. They do not mend by domestic examples. Charles the First lost his head by his obstinacy. The loss of Charles the First's head was no lesson to Charles the Second. It taught him dissimulation, not amendment. It taught King James neither amendment nor dissimulation. His obstinacy was his ruin, and it had like to have been ours, but that God and King William preserved us. My grandfather told me, that the grandfather of this Pretender lost his crown by being his own minister. You may have seen the Earl of Sunderland's apology for himself. He said that he had King James's positive order for every thing he did. Con. Observe, my friend : — that King Charles did succeed, is what you cannot deny. On my part, I agree that if King James, in his scheme of being his own minister, had followed exactly the plan of Charles the Second, his ill success would have been as decisive against it. Cit. But I cannot allow it. King Charles did not live long enough to make a fair experiment in his single person. The very same scheme was continued to its maturity, and it failed in his successor ; that is, it failed at its time, — it could not before. Great national evils are not understood, much less cured, at once. The whole space of time, from the decisive step you speak of with so much applause, to the Revolution, was not above seven or eight years. VOL. II. G g 450 APPENDIX. Con. And long enough, of conscience. A person eight years in possession of all the powers and influence of government, who can carry a point of this kind for eighteen years, and if for eighteen, for ever, is unworthy of his situation. But you are not quite fair with me, my good friend. Observe, that you do not deny, that, so far as Charles was concerned, he succeeded. I was very ready to own, that if King James, in his scheme of being his own minister (contrary, as you say, to the principles of the constitution), had followed exactly the plan of Charles the Second, the failure, in his hands, would have proved as much against the wisdom of the plan, as if his brother had been deposed in his own person. But he departed from it essentially, with regard both to measures and parties. Like a bigot as he was, he brought religion into the ques- tion, on which he quarrelled with the Tories and High Churchmen, and that was his ruin. Had he stuck to them, they would have stuck to him ; and they never would have quarrelled about popular privileges, which had been as much attacked in the preceding reign as in his. A party for royalty, by principle, would have proved a poor check upon a prince who endeavoured to exalt that very power, which it was their point of honour and conscience to support. Cit. Not perfectly conclusive, I confess. There is a great deal of guess-work in all politics. But you misconceive the drift of my observations. I did not bring them to prove that such an uncon- stitutional scheme is impracticable ; but that, taking it for granted that it is very undesirable, (for the people at least,) I do not, in any of my distresses, think of resorting to the Pretender. That gentleman, I am persuaded, inherits the principles of his family, though he inherits nothing else. Eead Bolingbroke's account of his transactions with his father. Though without dominions, he would still be minister, defied all rational counsel, and per- severed to the last in keeping his own way of thinking ; though by it he disgusted even those miserable refugees who had, appa- rently, no resource but the revival of his cause. Bolingbroke and Ormond were obliged to quit him, and all but a few Scotch and Irish as senseless as himself; and the present Pretender, to prove his legitimacy, is noted for the same obstinacy. Therefore, my good sir, it is indifferent to me, whether the scheme of the Stuarts was practicable for any length of time, or could be pur- sued with safety to the prince or not. You say it prevailed under Charles II. It did, indeed, to the disgrace, and very nearly to the ruin, of this country. If being reduced to a servile dependence on France could have been a matter of shame to a prince who had no taste for glory, of conscience to one who had no religion, or of fear APPENDIX. 451 to one who never looked beyond to-morrow, — his plan of govern- ment evidently subjected him to that dependence. The fact is, he knew it ; but, with his eyes broad open, he preferred a dependence on a foreign power, to a reliance on the affections of his people. His vitiated taste led him to believe that a pension was more honour- able than a grant ; and it was a known saying of his, that it was better to depend on a generous monarch than on a turbulent and factious assembly of mean persons. Therefore, he lost the con- fidence of all his people, who held high that power of popular grant of money. He was not half a king at home ; and, abroad, his fear of a great part of his own people, and his contests with them, made him to give the alarming growth of the French naval power no sort of check ; until it became so very formidable, that when, in the reign of King William, it was resisted, the Eng- lish navy proved weaker than that of the enemy, which chased the fleet of Great Britain into port (it was not, indeed, so long and so diversified a chase as we have since seen) ; and it was only by the assistance and cordial co-operation of Holland, that it was able to meet the enemy's fleet, and to attain that superiority which, for nearly a century, extinguished the naval power of France. Had Charles been compelled to make use of his fleet, it must have fallen a sacrifice to that of Lewis XIV. ; for he had alienated Holland, insulted her, and broken all connexion with that useful ally. In- deed, his conduct was such, that, though he had been courted to take the balance of power into his hands, yet he was at length left without an ally in the world ; for I look upon it as a certain thing, that when it is known that the King of Britain is his own minister, no power in Europe will have any connexion with him. Gon. This neglect of the navy was singular in Charles II., be- cause he valued himself as a connoisseur in ship-building, fre- quently visited the dock-yards, and a naval review was one of his favourite amusements. Git. It was his amusement ; — rather expensive, however, for an amusement ; — but it was no more ; for his navy was not superior to that of Holland, and it was so inferior to that of France, that he was unable to resist it. But he concealed the growth of the French naval power with all industry, for fear it should disturb him in his favourite designs ; and if any one stated the dreadful pro- gress of the enemy, he had him represented as a disaffected person, and a pensioner of France ; and in this way his hirelings repre- sented Algernon Sidney and Eussell, — the glories of this nation ; while he himself was, though not then known, a pensioner ; and, by his acquiescence in the growth of the marine of France, earned his pension honestly. o g 2 452 APPENDIX. Law of Debtor and Creditor. Sir George Savile to Edmund Burke, Esq. No date, probably 1780. Deae Sib, Pray tell me how the inclosed suits your taste. Will you be so good likewise to spend this week in devising sundry clauses and provisions, establishing the separation and dis- tinction we seemed to agree in, between the criminal and civil parts of a debtor's case. 1. Every honest man will pay his debts if he can. 2. What an honest man should do, the law may compel him to do if it pleases. 3. But it should not give his body, either on the idea of recom- pense for the debt, nor as a revenge for the creditors, nor as a torture to force his payment, or screw it out of the compassion of his friends or the public. N.B. In that case whipping, or pinching with hot irons in the public street, at the discretion of the creditor, would be preferable, and excite more compassion than imprisonment, and the pubhc would not lose its property in his labour. 4. When we have pursued the means of getting the creditor his demand as far as is right, the criminal question arises. 5. No criminal inquiry — no punishment. 6. I am assured that nine debtors are guilty to one innocent. But I answer that the law will rather have ten guilty escape, than one innocent suffer. 7. Therefore they must not all be driven on a heap into prison together. 8. Nevertheless a roguish debtor is one of the first-rate of- fenders. 9. A careless debtor, guilty of such extravagance after borrow- ing, as would be folly if it were his own money, is guilty of a crime, and is a second-rate offender. 10. Both of them crimes very necessary to be prevented by punishment. 11. The presumption I allow to be so far against the debtor, that a good share of proof should lie on him (by his books, neigh- bours, character, &c. &c.) to prove he did not game, he did not drink, he was not idle, &c. &c., — nay, that he did not venture in trade rashly. The above heads may perhaps suffice for the present. Dear sir. Very much yours, G. Savile. APPENDIX. 453 Character of Lord John Cavendish^ If any one were to ask, abroad, who were the naen now living upon whom this nation valued itself, and whom we were to hold out as the specimens of what this country could produce, to give one an idea of its virtue, every man would certainly name Lord John Cavendish as the first. He is a man who would have adorned the best of commonwealths at the brightest of its periods. An accom- plished scholar, and an excellent critic, in every part of polite literature, thoroughly acquainted with history, ancient and modern ; with a sound judgment ; a memory singularly retentive and exact, perfectly conversant in business, and particularly in that of finance ; of great integrity, great tenderness and sensibility of heart, with friendships few, but unalterable ; of perfect disinterestedness ; the ancient English reserve and simplicity of manner. He is a true Cavendish. The only fault is that, perhaps, the singular modesty and moderation of his nature does not always give that energy and lustre to his virtues which are necessary to give them their full effect and to captivate the populace. He avoids ostentation to a fault, and is more afraid of setting himself off than other statesmen are studious of putting themselves forward. Once a lord of the treasury, and twice chancellor of the exchequer, which he accepted with reluctance, and gave up with joy, he did his official duty with astonishing diligence and firmness, — diligence rare in such a case ! From the Bight Hon. Edmund BwrJce to Lord John Cavendish. My Lord, I address my thoughts, upon a subject which has long engaged my mind and deeply affected it, to your lordship, because I know you. I am sure that if I have conceived an esteem for your character, it is not because I have seen it at a distance. I have seen you placed, after long meditation, singly, in a chosen light, with spikes between you and the crowd, enlarged by the deceptions of art above the human form, and painted out for theatrical show and vulgar admira- tion. I have walked all round you, and have seen you at all hours, ^ This paper, entitled, " Character of Lord John Cavendish,'^ is followed by another in the form of a letter to Lord John ; but whether it was intended for transmission or not is exceedingly doubtful. The form of a letter may have been that which Burke adopted for putting on paper his opinion of the merits of a friend for whom he had the highest respect and regard. Imperfect as these fragments are, it would have been unjust to the memory of Lord John Cavendish to have withheld them from the public eye. 454 APPENDIX. and in all humours ; and I, who have brought my mind to so exclu- sive a veneration for the Divine perfections, that I have no admira- tion left for those of men, beyond my understanding of them, am yet very willing to honour virtue, so far as I am able to recognize and comprehend it. I should be ashamed to look for it in statues and on shelves, and to neglect it in life ; but if I see the same great qualities in John or Charles, I trust that I am disposed to give them as much credit, and to love them full as well, as when I read of them in a O^to or a Tiraoleon. The heart is pinched up and contracted by the very studies which ought to have enlarged it, if we keep all our praise for the triumphant and glorified virtues, and all our uneasy suspicions, and doubts, and criticisms, and exceptions for the companions of our warfare. A mind that is tempered as it ought, or aims to come to the temper it ought to have, will measure out its just proportion of confidence and esteem for a man of inva- riable rectitude of principle, steadiness in friendship, moderation in temper, and a perfect freedom from all ambition, duplicity, and revenge ; though the owner of these inestimable qualities is seen in the tavern and on the pavement, as well as in the senate, or appear- ing with more decency than solemnity even there. He will put his confidence in them, though they should appear in a figure not lofty, nor much imposing, and though his address should at first be cold, dry, and reserved, and without any thing at all of advance or courtship in it. Far from taking away its value, every thing which makes virtue accessible, simple, familiar, and companionable, makes its use more frequent, and its reality a great deal less doubtful. Neither, I apprehend, is the value of great qualities taken away, by the defects or errors that are most nearly related to them. Simplicity and a want of ambition do something detract from the splendour of great qualities ; and men of moderation will sometimes be defective in vigour. Minds (and these are the best minds) which are more fearful of reproach than desirous of glory, will want that extempo- raneous promptitude, and that decisive stroke, which are often so absolutely necessary in great affairs ; and I have often thought that it is one of the main advantages of the social endeavours of public men, acting by joint principle, consent, and counsel, that they pro- duce opposite virtues and faults, — whilst they honestly stick together, and bear one another's burdens, as men and Christians ought, — and temper one another, and make an excellent whole out of defective parts. The individual is, to be sure, the less perfect for this ; and those who love to whine over human infirmity rather than to relieve it, will think it a subject of great lamentation ; — yet many a thing which, single, is mischievous, in arrangement is useful. Set this man with another, and his very defect will be of service. You APPENDIX. 455 know my opinion upon insulated morality and politics ; — it is fit that our social condition should be thus combined. The world will operate difierently according to our temper. Almost every body, in the sanguine season of youth, looks in the world for more perfec- tion than he is likely to find. But a good-tempered man, — that is to say, a man of a wise constitution, will be pleased, in the midst of his disappointment, to find, that if the virtues of men are below his wish and calculation, their faults have beneficial effects ; whereas the iU-tempered man grows peevish at finding, what he will as certainly find, the ill consequence attending the most undoubted virtues. I believe we shall do every thing something the better, for putting ourselves in as good a humour as possible when we set about it'. Enclosures from Bicliard Burke, Jun., Esq., to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke '. Copy of the Address from the French Noblesse at Brussells. MM. LE Due D'Uziis, le Due de ViUequiers, le Marquis de la Quenille, le Vicomte d'Hautefeuille, le President de Robieu, le Baron de Cendreville, — Commissionaires de la noblesse Fran^oise, nomm^s par les frferes du roy pour la partie de la noblesse qui reside a Bruxelles, sont venus pour avoir Thonneur de voir Monsieur Burke ; ils saisissent avec empressement I'occasion de rendre hom- mage aux vertus et aux talents de son illustre pfere, et lui t^moigner Fadmiration et la reconnoissance que son ouvrage a inspird a tons les Frangois sincferement attaches a leur religion, 'k leur roy, et aux loix du royaume. A Bruxelles, le 7 Aout, 1791. Copy of the Answer to tlie preceding Address. Gentlemen, I shall immediately communicate to my father the honour you have conferred upon him. That testimony of coinciding sentiments which you are pleased to call the expression of your gratitude, cannot fail to go to the bottom of his heart. It is a matter of no inconsiderable pride to him, that those principles upon which the circumstances of ' Endorsed on the ba«k, in Mr. Burke's handwriting, " To Lord John Carendish." There is no date, but it was probably written at the time of the retirement of Lord John Cavendish from public life. ' Referred to by a note, vol. i. p. 626. 456 APPENDIX. the time made him presmne to assert the common cause of all gen- tlemen, should not be disavowed by a body in whom the sense of true honour has been the distinguishing character for so many ages. This testimonial will be preserved in his family, and descend as an hereditary honour. I consider it as the genuine voice of the king- dom of France; for, as you well know, it is not the geographical situation which makes a country ; but wherever the spirit and virtue of the nation resides, there the country is. We learn what sort of men have taken possession of France, when we behold those whom they have driven out of it. By a providential reaction of evil, the dispersion of the French nobility has become the most signal refutation of all the calumnies invented to discredit the very principle of honour. This is not all. You have redeemed the character of the French nation in the eyes of all Europe. The states of which it is composed, see in you a hope of recovering their lost companion. A principle is not wanting which may once more cement that great communion of the civilized world which has been broken by the apostasy of France. For, gentlemen, your senti- ments, character, and manners, are a pledge to all mankind, that your restoration to your patrimonial possessions, and to that in- heritance of public estimation in which you constituted the strength and pride of your country, will also be the restoration of those principles of religion and of justice, which form the only foundation of civil society and of national intercourse. From, the Gomte (TAriois to the Bight Hon. Edmund Burke \ Rotterdam, ce 22 Aoust, 1794. Monsieur, Je viens d'apprendre, avec une sensible peine, la perte cruelle que vous avez faite. Non seulement je partage votre juste douleur, mais je rdunis a vous, et a tous les ames vertueuses, pour regretter un homme qui par ses qualit^s, et sa parfaite loyaut6, aurait pu 6tre si utile a sa station, et h la cause qui intdresse Thumanit^ entifere. Je ne vous parlerai point aujourd'hui, monsieur, des affaires g^n&ales ; cette lettre est uniquement consacr^e a vous exprimer les sentiments doloureux, dont la mort de M. votre fils affectent mon coeur. Cependant je compte tout sur votre int^rM pour moi, qu''en chargeant le Oomte de S^rent de vous remettre ma lettre, je ' An enclosure in the letter of the Comte de S^rent, dated September I, 1794; referred to by a note on page 253 of this volume. APPENDIX. 457 lui prescris en meme terns de vous informer de ma position actuelle, de ma Constance indbranlable, et de ma confiance sans reserve dans les sentiments, les principes, et T^nergie du ministfere Britannique. Oomptez a jamais, monsieur, sur ma parfaite estime, sur ma con- sideration pour vous, et sur tons les sentiments de reconnoissance que je me plais h vous devoir. Charles Philippe. M. Edmund Bukke. Twelve Resolutions relative to the recent Negotiations with France, 1797 \ 1st. Resolved, That at the opening of parliament on the 21st of January, 1794, his majesty having communicated to both his Houses of Parliament a pubUc declaration, bearing date from Whitehall on the 29th of October, 179-3, wherein he set forth to all Europe the views and principles by which he was guided in the present war, was further graciously pleased to recommend from the throne, and this House did in consequence assure his majesty that in all our deliberations we would never lose sight of the true grounds and origin of the war ; and in relation thereto, this House did then proceed to declare that we have been called upon by every motive of duty and self-preservation to repel an attack made upon his majesty and his allies, founded upon principles which tend to destroy all property, to subvert the laws and religion of every civilized nation, and to introduce universally that wild and destructive system of rapine, anarchy, and impiety, the effects of which, as they have already been manifested in France, furnish a dreadful lesson to the present age and to posterity. 2nd. Resolved, That by an amendment moved and negatived in this House on the .30th of December last, a charge of rashness and of injustice, with regard to the commencement of the present war, having been brought against his majesty's government, and through that govern- ment against his majesty's late parliament and the people of Great ' The original of this paper is not in the handwriting of Mr. Burke, but as some of the corrections are so, there can be little doubt of its expressing the views which he entertained of the then state of European affairs (beginning of 1797), and more espe- cially of the recent mission of Lord Malmesbury to Paris. It does not appear that the resolutions were ever moved in either House of Parliament. 458 APPENDIX. Britain, this House feeling it to be their duty at all times when, in a new parliament, such a charge shall be brought against the honour and justice of this nation, to make serious inquiry into the truth of the same, and especially remembering the solemn pledge given to his majesty by this House in the late parliament, " That, in all our deliberations, we can never lose sight of the true grounds and origin of the war," has taken the aforesaid charge into consideration ; and this House is of opinion that the grounds and origin of the war, as a just and necessary war of self-defence, as well as the principles on which the aggression of the enemy was founded, are truly set forth in the above-mentioned address to his majesty, on the 21st of January, 1794, and this House does hereby re-affirm the same. 3rd. Besolved, That in his majesty's public declaration of the 29th October, 1793, the king, under the circumstances there stated, demanded from France " that some legitimate and stable government should be established, founded on the acknowledged principles of universal justice, and capable of maintaining with other powers the accustomed relations of union and peace." 4th. Besolved, That at the opening of the session of parliament on the 29th October, 1795, his majesty informed this House " that the distrac- tion and anarchy which has so long prevailed in France, had led to a crisis, of which it was then impossible to foresee the issue, but which must, in all human probability, produce consequences highly important to the interests of Europe ;" and his majesty further added, "that should this crisis terminate in any order of things compatible with the tranquillity of other countries, and affording a reasonable expectation of security and permanence in any treaty which might be concluded, the appearance of a disposition to negotiate for general peace, on just and suitable terms, would not fail to be met, on his part, with an earnest desire to give it the fullest and speediest effect;" and on the 8th of December following, his majesty, by message, acquainted this House " that such crisis had terminated in an order of things which would induce him so to meet any disposition for negotiation on the part of the enemy." 5th. Besolved, That no disposition whatever for negotiation having been shown by the enemy, Mr. Wickham, his majesty's plenipotentiary to the APPENDIX. 459 Swiss Cantons, was authorized to inquire of Monsieur Barthelemi, ambassador from the French repubhc at Basle, — and upon the 8th March, 1796 (while an armistice was subsisting between the French and imperial forces on the Rhine), did accordingly inquire, — " whether there was a disposition in France to open a negotiation for the re-establishment of a general peace upon just and suitable terms, by sending, for that purpose, ministers to a congress ; whether there would be the disposition to communicate to Mr. Wickham the general grounds of a pacification such as France would be willing to propose, or whether there would be a desire to propose any other way whatever for arriving at the same end." That on the 26'th of the same month an answer was returned by Mr. Barth^l^mi. That such answer was both haughty and evasive. That the mode of negotiation offered by his majesty was therein peremptorily rejected. That it stated no other in which his enemies were willing to concur. That at the same time it asserted a principle under which "the terms of peace must have been regulated, not by the usual consideration of justice, policy, and reciprocal commerce, but by an implicit submission, on the part of all other powers, to a claim founded on the internal laws, and separate constitution of France ; as having full authority to super- sede the treaties entered into by independent states, to govern their interests, to control their engagements, and to dispose of their dominions :" and that his majesty's ministers showed a proper and laudable concern for the true honour of the British name, in declaring (as they did, in an official note, dated from Downing- street, on the 10th of April following) "that such answer left nothing for the king but to prosecute a war equally just and necessary." 6th. Resolved^ That on the 6th September, 1796, his majesty's secretary of state for foreign affairs availed himself of the confidential interven- tion of the Danish ambassador at this court, and of the Danish minister at Paris, to demand passports from the executive Directory for a British envoy. That to this written application, the Danish minister, after waiting three days, obtained only a verbal answer, prohibiting in future any mediation of any neutral power, but offering passports to any British plenipotentiary who should demand tliem in person on the frontiers. That the said Danish minister, judging, as well from the tone and manner of the French minister as from the purport of such verbal answer, did consider what he was chai-ged to communicate as an immediate refusal of the application which had been made by the British court ; and with a wish, for the sake 460 APPENDIX. of humanity, that he might meet with better success at some future period, he did express his fear that this period was still at a great distance. And this House is of opinion, that the manner in which such intervention was received by the executive Directory, "indicated the most hostile disposition towards Great Britain, and at the same time afforded to all Europe a striking instance of that injurious and offensive conduct which is observed on the part of the French government tow,ards all other countries." 7th. Resolved, That notwithstanding the discouraging style of the aforesaid verbal answer, his majesty's ministers, on the 24th of September, renewed immediately to the executive Directory the demand before made for the necessary passports. That such passports having been granted on the express condition that the British envoy should be furnished with full powers both for negotiating and definitively con- cluding peace. Lord Malmesbury, on the part of his majesty, arrived at Paris on the 22nd October. That the executive Directory having, the next day, given to Monsieur de la Croix, the French minister for foreign affairs, the necessary powers for concluding peace, but limiting him in the negotiation of it, to conform himself to the instructions to be given him, and to report what passed from time to time thereupon, his majesty's plenipotentiary lost no time in presenting a memorial, in which he proposed to negotiate on the footing " of making compensation to France by proportionable restitutions for those arrangements to which she would be called upon to consent, in order to satisfy the just demands of the king's allies and to preserve the political balance of Europe." — But it was not until the 27th November, after various criminations of his majesty and of his ally, the emperor, and other objections of a dilatory nature, that his majesty's plenipotentiary received from the executive Directory a formal and positive acknowledgment of the proposed principle, accompanied by an invitation to him to designate, without the least delay, and expressly, the objects of reciprocal com- pensation which he had to propose. That Lord Malmesbury having, accordingly, on the 1 7th December, presented two memorials, containing the outlines of the terms of peace, and having declared, both verbally and in writing, his readi- ness to enter, with a spirit of conciliation and fairness, into a dis- cussion of the same, or of any counter-project of the executive Directory, he was the next day required to sign the confidential memorials, contrary to the known established rules of diplomatic proceedings, and to deliver his ultimatum within twenty-four hours. APPENDIX. 461 That Lord Malmesbury, having signed the memorials, but declined to give such ultimatum, and having repeated his offers to enter upon the discussion in the most amicable manner, did on the same day receive a note from Monsieur de la Croix, announcing that the executive Directory " would listen to no proposals contrary to the constitution, to the laws, and to the treaties which bind the repub- lic," — as well as requiring his majesty's plenipotentiary to depart from Paris in eight-and-forty hours. And it further appears to this House, that on the evening of the 16th December, the very same evening when Lord Malmesbury requested a conference with Monsieur de la Croix, for the purpose of presenting his specific propositions relative to the terms of peace, a fleet, and troops on board, sailed from the port of Brest, to invade his majesty's kingdom of Ireland. 8th. Resolved, That this House is of opinion, that the hostile disposition of the French government towards the whole system of policy on which the general state of Europe has hitherto stood, and more especially towards the honour, interests, and the very independence of this country, strongly appeared in the several preliminary discussions relative to Lord Malmesbury's mission ; in the " difference of the credentials given to the French minister ; in the repeated endeavours to break off the intercourse when opened, even before the first steps towards the negotiation could be taken ; in the inde- cent and injurious language employed with a view to irritate ; in the capricious and frivolous objections raised for the purpose of obstructing the progress of the discussion ;" and in the various departures made, or demanded to be made, from the long-established rules and usages of diplomatic proceedings. That such hostile dis- position was more clearly manifested in the demands of an ultima- tum, made on the very outset of negotiation ; and that it was proved, without all possibility of doubt, by the abrupt termination of the negotiation, accompanied with an obstinate adherence to a claim which was inconsistent with the principle of compensation so recently " established by mutual consent, which had before been rejected by his majesty, and which never can be admitted :" — "a claim that the construction which that government affected to put (though even in that respect unsupported by the fact) on the internal constitution of its own country, should be received by all other nations as paramount to every known principle of public law in Europe, as superior to the obligations of treaties, to the ties of common interests, and to the most pressing and urgent considerations of general security." 462 APPENDIX. 9th. Besolved, That, judging, as this House can only judge, from the declara- tions and conduct of the actual government of France towards this country, more especially on occasion of the different overtures made by his majesty for the purpose of effecting a general pacification, as also from the principles and designs which that government has manifested in their intercourse with all the neutral powers, and above all with the United States of America, in various instances notorious to Eutope and the world, this House has not yet received any sufiScient assurance, that there does at present exist in France a government "founded," as his majesty among other things demanded, " on the acknowledged principles of universal justice ;" or that there is at present an order of things established there such as his majesty was induced, by his own benevolent dispositions, to hope " compatible with the tranquilHty of other countries, and affording a reasonable expectation of security and permanence in any treaty which may be concluded." 10th. Besolved, That the alliance of the princes or states possessing the Nether- lands, and other adjoining countries on this side of the Rhine (all which dominions the extravagant pretensions advanced and insisted upon by the actual government of France, would, as a preliminary to any discussion, annex for ever to the French territory), has been uniformly and invariably considered by this House, from the date of the earliest records of parliament down to the present time, as an alliance which it is, in all cases, the duty and interest of the English nation to cultivate and strengthen in opposition to France ; that it has been repeatedly acknowledged by his majesty's ancestors, and this House, to be of the highest importance to the prosperity and safety of our commerce and of our power, as well as the best security to the general liberties of Europe ; and that, accord- ingly, it has been ever sought and maintained at a price far beyond that of any other alliance of the crown of these realms. That by the existing treaties, which this House has seen and approved, between his majesty and the Emperor of Germany, this nation has guaranteed the restitution of the Netherlands to the house of Austria, and that the courage and magnanimity with which the emperor, in situations the most difficult and disastrous, has declared his fixed resolution of keeping inviolate his engagements with the crown of Great Britain, as well as the great and unprecedented exertions which he has made in the common cause, add a new obligation on this House and the British nation, not less sacred than the most solemn faith of treaties. APPENDIX. 463 11th. Besolmd, That with regard to the other objects of the late negotiation, this House has seen with pleasure the declaration of Lord Malmesbury in his first memorial, bearing date the 24th of October, 1796, that, " if his offers should not be accepted, or if the discussions which might ensue should fail to produce the desired effect, neither that first general proposition, nor those more detailed which might result from it, could be regarded, in any case, as points agreed upon or admitted by his majesty.'" 12th. Besolmd, That, confident in the resources and spirit of the people of Great Britain, this House will support his majesty, with zeal and persever- ance, in the vigorous prosecution of a war which was begun, on the part of his majesty and his allies, to repel a wanton and unprovoked aggression, founded on principles subversive of the whole political, civil, and religious system of Europe ; which has only been con- tinued because the same principles have never ceased to operate on the mind of the common enemy, and which, as it at present appears to this House, nothing but the increased and intolerable distress of that enemy can bring to a determination, wise, honourable, and safe, for his majesty and his allies. Edmund Burhe to the Committee of Correspondence for the General Assembly of New YorJc. Beconsfield, August 2, 1774. Gentlemen, I was prevented by pressing business and by not the best health, from sending you a letter by the July packet. When I had last the honour of writing to you on your affairs, I entertained no strong apprehensions that the clause in the Quebec Bill, concerning the boundary of that new province, could materially affect the rights of your colony. It was couched in general and saving terms ; it reserved all rights and confirmed all adjudications ; it was in all appearance sufficiently equitable ; but upon a close consideration and subsequent inquiry, I found that you might be very much affected by it. I take the hberty of stating to you the light in which it appeared to me, and the conduct which I held in conse- quence of that view of your interests. I must first observe to you, that the proceedings with regard to the town of Boston, and the province of Massachusetts Bay, had 464 APPKNDIX. been, from the beginning, defended on their absolute necessity, not only for the purpose of bringing that refractory town and province into proper order, but for holding out an example of terror to the other colonies, in some of which (as it was said) a disposition to the same, or similar excesses, had been marked very strongly. This unhappy disposition in the colonies was, by the friends of the coer- cive measures, attributed to the pride and presumption arising from the rapid popidation of these colonies, and from their lax form and more lax exercise of government. I found it in general discourses, and indeed in public debates, the predominant and declared opinion, that the course of this resistance to legal power ought to be weak- ened, since it was impossible to be removed. That any growth of the colonies, which might make them grow out of the reach of the authority of this kingdom, ought to be accounted rather a morbid fulness than a sound and proper habit. All increase of the colonies which tended to decrease their advantage to this country, they con- sidered as useless and even mischievous. From this predominant way of thinking, the enormous extent of the colonies was censured. It was not thought wise to make new grants of land but upon the weightiest consideration, — if at all. Prerogative was to be strengthened as much as possible ; and it was thought expedient to find, in the tractable disposition of some provinces, a check upon the turbulent manners, and a balance to the less manageable plan of government, in the others. These principles (whatever their merit may be) became very fashionable during the agitation of the Massachusetts bills in the House of Commons. A peer, who I think does not always vote in the majority, made a sort of proposition for an address to the king, that no more lands should be located in America. This was the substance of the proposition. Although it proceeded no further, for reasons of decorum, the ministerial side in that House fell in very directly with those sentiments, and, as I am told plainly, showed a resolution to act in conformity with them, as far as the power of the crown, in that particular, extended. It is true that a few lords, and Lord Rockingham in particular, objected to the idea of restraining the colonies from spreading into the back country, even if such restraint were practicable : for by stopping the extent of agriculture, they necessitated manufactures, contrary to the standing policy of colonization. The general sentiments were, how- ever, as I have stated them. I mention this disposition of the House of Peers particularly (though it prevailed almost equally elsewhere), because the Quebec Bill originated in that House. Very many thought, on a careful perusal, that the lines of the plan of policy I have just mentioned, were very distinguishable in that APPENDIX. 465 bill as it came down to us. It was for that reason I became more uneasy than at first, about the lax and indeterminate form in which the boundary clause of this new colony was worded in the original bill. The idea, which (whether seriously adopted by ministry or not) was very prevalent, that the British colonies ought to be re- strained, made it necessary that this restraint should not be arbitrary. It was the main ground of the amendments which I proposed and carried ; with regard to the boundary clause, how- ever, as a mere unconnected arrangement, it was right to define with clearness, although such a plan of policy never had existed, or should pass away, as I hope and think in some degree it has, with the first heats. The bill passed through the House of Lords with some opposi- tion, but no amendment ; but when it came into the House of Commons the ministers confessed that it was hastily drawn ; and they professed great candour in admitting alterations. The part by which your province would be directly affected, was only the boundary clause. As the boundary was in the most material parts in the original bill, only constructive, and in general words of reference to the " houndary lines of the other provinces, as adjudged or allowed by the crown^'' I thought it necessary to know with regard to you, what lines had been actually drawn, and next, what principles were to guide in adjudging your real boundaries in future. With regard to the first point, I found that a line of division between your colony and that of Quebec had been allowed by the king, in council, to be run from a point on Lake Champlain, in forty-five degrees of north latitude. So far had been agreed between the governors of the two provinces, and allowed. But no line had been actually run in consequence of this agreement, except from the river Connecticut to the lake. Even this line had not been formerly allowed ; and none at all had been run to the westward of Lake Champlain. So that your boundary on the north had never been perfectly delineated, though the principle upon which it should be drawn had been laid down. For a great part of the northern frontier and for the whole of the western, until you met the line of New Jersey, you had no defined boundary at all. Your claims were indeed extensive, and I am persuaded just ; but they had never been regularly allowed. My next object of inquiry therefore was, upon what principles the board of trade would, in the future discussion, which must inevitably and speedily arise, determine what belonged to you and what to Canada. I was told that the settled, uniform doctrine and practice of the board of trade was this : that in questions of boundary, where the VOL. ir. H h 466 APPENDIX. jurisdiction and soil in both the litigating provinces belonged to the crown, there was no rule but the king's will, and that he might allot as he pleased, to the one or to the other. They said also that under these circumstances, even where the king had actually- adjudged a territory to one province, he might afterwards change the boundary, or, if he thought fit, erect the parts into separate and new governments at his discretion. They alleged the example of Carolina, first one province, then divided into two separate govern- ments ; and which afterwards had a third, that of Georgia, taken from the southern division of it. They urged besides the example of the neutral and conquered islands. These, after the peace of Paris, were placed under one government. Since then they were totally separated, and had distinct governors and assemblies. Although I had the greatest reason to question the soundness of some of these principles, at least in the extent in which they were laid down, and whether the precedents alleged did fully justify them in that latitude, I certainly had no cause to doubt but that the matters would always be determined upon these maxims at the board, by which they were adopted. The more clearly their strict legality was proved, the more uneasy I became at their conse- quences. By this bill a new province under an old name was, in fact, erected; the limits settled by the proclamation of 1763 were cancelled. — On your side a mere constructive boundary was esta- blished ; and the construction, when examined, amounted to nothing more than the king's pleasure. No part of your province (not even of the settled quarters of the country) quite to the river Hudson, was secured from the possible operation of such a principle. Besides, there was a possibility (at least) that, in the settlement of the boundary, ministers would naturally lean to extend those hmits the most, where the royal prerogative was most extensive, and con- sequently their power the highest. I do not mean to charge them with that intention ; but no laws stood in the way of such an in- clination ; if it ever did exist, or should happen to exist hereafter. This was not (as it might be between two ancient British colonies) a mere question of geographical distinction, or of economical distri- bution, where the inhabitants on the one side of the line and on the other lived under the same law, and enjoyed the same privileges of Englishmen ; but this was a boundary, discriminating different principles of jurisdiction and legislation ; where, in one part, the subject lived under law, and in the other, under prerogative. From these impressions I proposed my objections on the second reading, reserving a more regular opposition to the committee. In the interval, I conferred with Lord Dartmouth and Mr. Pownal, and afterwards with Lord North, upon the subject ; but first I APPENDIX. 467 formed my plan for an amendment to the clause as it stood in the bill, before it was committed. I could have wished for a more perfect and authorized information, but I was obliged to act at the instant. The bill came in late in the session ; and if I had let it pass for want of being instructed, the occasion could, in all human probabi- lity, never be recovered. I saw you had claims founded on these grounds. The old Dutch settlement ; the placing of the five nations within your government ; the boundary line of Governors Moore and Carleton ; and the maintenance of the Fort of Oswego, during the late war, which carried you to Lake Ontario. These claims had no fault but the want of definition ; to define is to abridge. Something then must be given up. I was persuaded that, when one negotiates with power, it is policy to give up hand- somely what cannot be retained, and to gain that strength which will always more or less attend the reasonableness of a proposition, even when it is opposed by power. I thought that well secured and tolerably extensive boundaries were better than the amplest claims which are neither defined nor allowed. My idea was to get the limits of Quebec, which appeared to many as well as myself intended to straiten the British colonies, removed from construction to certainty, and that certainty grounded on natural, indisputable, and immovable barriers — rivers and lakes where I could have them ; lines where lines could be drawn ; and where reference and description became necessary, to have them towards an old British colony, and not towards this new, and as was thought favourite, establishment. I assured ministry that if they refused this reasonable offer I must be heard by counsel. As they found some opposition growing within and without doors, and they were in haste to carry through their bill, brought in so late in the session, after some discussion and debate, they gave way to the amended clause as you see it. The work was far more troublesome than those who were not present can well believe. It cost us near two whole days in the committee. The grand difficulty arose from the very unsettled state of the boundary of Pennsylvania. We could not determine whether it advanced northward beyond Lake Erie, or ran within that lake, or fell to the south of it. And this uncertainty made the whole matter beyond expression perplexing. Objections on the part of Quebec were raised to the last moment, and particularly to the post of Niagara, which Mr. Carleton, I am told, was very earnest to have within his government ; but by the act it is ex- cluded, and is on your side. I believe some imagined that these H h 2 468 APPENDIX. difficulties would make me give up the point, but it is carried, and, if not a perfect arrangement, it prevents a very bad one ; and may form a basis for a much better, in times more favourable to the old colonies. After the affair was over, it was suggested to me that I ought to have expressly defined this line to he the limits of New York, as well as of Canada. To this I answer that I was aware of the inconveniences which might arise from the want of this clear specification, supposing the board of trade to act insidiously, unfairly, and captiously, which I have no reason to imagine they will do, from any thing I have observed in them, or in other parts of ministry. But I confess, when 1 consider that Canada is put on the other side of the waters, its bounds being expressly so marked out, it appears to me abso- lutely impossible to say to whom the land on this side belongs, except to you ; unless his majesty should choose to erect a new government, a thing no way likely or convenient for any good purpose. The Quebec line was constantly stated and argued in the House as the boundary between the provinces of Quebec and New York, in that public discourse (rather than debate) which latterly we had on this subject. I think the line to all intents and purposes as much your boundary as if it were ever so expressly set down. Canada, at least, cannot say " this belongs to me." I did not press to have the line, called the boundary between New York and Canada, because we should again fall into dis- cussion about the bounds of other colonies, as we had about those of Pennsylvania, which discussion alone had very near defeated me. It would be asked why the line along Nova Scotia, New Hampshire, and the Northern Massachusetts' claim, was not called the boun- dary of these provinces as well as of New York ? It would be said that this act was to settle a constitution for Quebec, and not for adjusting the limits of the colonies; and in the midst of this wrangle the whole object would have infallibly escaped ; the House, as it was, grew quite tired of it. All business stood still, whilst we were wording the clause, and on our difficulties Lord North proposed to revert to the old words, which he said to him were the best, and that he only gave way to the sentiments of other people, who, on his concession, found a difficulty in effectuating their own purposes. I must, therefore, accept what I could get. And the true method of estimating the matter is to take together the time, what we escaped, and what we have obtained ; and then to judge whether we have not had a tolerable bargain. Those who were present congratulated me, as on a great advantage. I am sure I acted APPENDIX. 469 for the best, with great rectitude of intention, and a good deal of assiduity. I send you the bill with the amendments marked. As to the other parts of the bill, they are matters of more general policy. As I have already given you a great deal of trouble, I do not mean to detain you any longer upon foreign matter. I received your obliging letter of the 31st of May, and am extremely happy in the honour of your approbation. You undoubtedly may dispose of my letters as you judge proper. I must, in this respect, confide entirely in your prudence, being fully satisfied that the matter wUl always direct you sufficiently in what you ought to conceal, and what to divulge. I have sent off long ago the Wawaganda and Oheescoks Acts. I have had the honour of seeing Mr. Oruger at my house on his return to Bristol. I endeavoured to attend to him in the manner to which his merit and connexions entitle him. I have the honour to be, with the highest esteem and regard, Gentlemen, Your most obedient and humble servant, (Signed) Edmund Bueke. Mr. Bancroft to Earl Fitzwilliam. 1, Upper Belgrave-street, London, December 19, 1848. My Lord, Your lordship may remember that I once spoke vpith you on the subject of Burke's correspondence as agent of the province of New York. In America we have very few of his letters written in that capacity. Of one complete one, which I found in New York, I made a copy. I enclose a copy of it, which I beg your lordship will do me the honour to retain. At the same time, I cannot but express a hope that your lordship wUl direct an examination of Mr. Burke's papers, with a view to finding other communications from him of a similar nature, and of equal or even greater interest. I have the honour to remain, With high respect, yours, Geoege Banceoft'. ^ Mr. Bancroft was minister from the United States to Great Britain in 1848 and 1849. No letters of the kind alluded to by Mr. Bancroft have been found among Mr. Burke's papers. 470 APPENDIX. Richard BurJce, Jim., Esq.,' to the Rev. T. L. O'Beirne^. Dublin, 1792. Deae Sir, I am extremely obliged to you for your letter of the 20th January, which I should have answered much sooner, if I had not deter- mined to answer it fully ; which a good deal of occupation has prevented me from doing before this. I am glad that at least you have not forgot me, while I am tossing about in this boisterous sea ; it is good to have an anchor somewhere, and I trust I shall find one in you. My last letter was written in a good deal of haste ; in substance, however, it contained my genuine feelings and deliberate thoughts ; and if they appear to you hot and precipitate, it was only because I had not time to give them the hue of that reflection, of which they were in reality the result. It seems to me impossible that you should altogether disagree with me ; but I see the delicacy of your situation, and, without expecting more, I am flattered that you show yourself so far interested in me, as in return for mine, to give me your advice, which is judicious and sound, as far as it applies to the circumstances. You have indeed misunderstood me in some things, and I am glad to have an opportunity to explain them. " In adding this letter to the present edition, the editors of the "Correspondence" feel it a duty to remark on the injustice done to the chaiiacter of the writer in a recent publication. In the " Memoirs of the Whig Party, by the late Lord Holland," his lord- ship observes of Richard Burke, " His son was sincerely attached to his father. It was his only virtue." The qualities which, in the world, are estimated as virtues, or the reverse, vary with the dispositions and character of the individuals who form and pronounce the estimate. It would, therefore, be necessary to enter upon an investiga- tion of Lord Holland's own qualifications for pronouncing an opinion upon this subject, before much weight could be attached to an opinion which seems to have been hazarded at random, and to have been put upon paper rather for the sake of the antithesis, than because It was the result of sober observation and inquiry. Of Richard Burke, Lord Holland could have known little or nothing, as he left Eng- land in March, 1793, when scarcely more than nineteen years old, and remained abroad till long after R. Burke's death. The late Lord FitzwiUiam, and the Bishop of Rochester, had formed a very different opinion, as may be seen by reference to page 249 of this volume. These persons were at least as good judges of men as Lord Holland, and certainly much better acquainted with the character and conduct of the younger Burke. As to his observations on the father, he states in his " Memoirs" that he had " only a schoolboy's acquaintance with Mr. Burke." Those whose personal acquaintance with him was greater than Lord Holland's, formed a different opinion of that great man's character in many essential par- ticulars. * Afterwards Bishop of Meath. Mr. O'Beirne was at this time in London, and much consulted by the government upon matters connected with Ireland. He accompanied Earl FitzwiUiam to that country, as chaplain, on his lordship's being appointed lord- lieutenant. He was raised to the see of Ossory on his recommendation, and returned with him to England upon his recall in March, 1795. APPENDIX. 471 My meaning in saying " I would do anything for the government here, but betray my clients," is simply this : the only service the Oastle seems to expect from me is, or (even to comprehend whether they are still in the same mind, I know not) was, to help them to lull the Catholics with vain assurances, or as vain and unbeneficial concessions — to put off the evil day — to keep all apparently fair and quiet, regardless what evils were brooding beneath, or what treasures of difficulties accumulating for their successors, and the permanent government of the empire. This was the ill-fated ser- vice rendered by Lord Kenmare', who performed it well, while it could avail to suppress the wishes of an oppressed people, instead of relieving them. This policy is one main cause of the difficulties of the present hour. To apply it now to the cure of the evil, would have been as absurd for me to attempt, as it was for the Oastle to wish it. What use would it have been to have persuaded the Eoman Catholics to pretend to have been contented with what both they and I know to be wholly incompetent to their relief. The service I was able to perform was of a different kind. When all that could be done was little for present alleviation, and scarcely more than the seed and promise of future benefits, I could have helped government to make up in demonstrations of kindness the deficiencies of actual service, and by mixing a little enjoyment with a good deal of hope, have put the Eoman Catholics in a silent and steady course of gradual benefit, and constant contentment for many years. I would have enabled them to do away the distrust and ahenation which a long course of suspicious conduct has produced, together with that sort of vain supercilious dignity with which they affect to treat the Roman Catholics. I would have aided govern- ment in doing the direct contrary of all they have done, and might really have been of some use in bringing the minds of the Protestant laity and clergy to an acquiescence in the necessary policy of widening the foundations of the state, and strengthening themselves by a reasonable extension of its privileges. For this task accidents have given me some qualifications both of opinion and reality. I * Valentine, first Earl of Kenmare, who died in 1812. His lordship, and some other Roman Catholics of rank and fortune in Ireland, had lately withdrawn from the general Catholic committee, appointed some years before by the great body of Irish Catholics, to procure a relaxation of the popery laws in that country, and had exerted themselves, at the instigation of the Irish government, to procure addresses to the crown and Irish parliament, in which a much smaller measure of relief was prayed for than was likely to give satisfaction to the mass of their fellow-countrymen of the same religious persuasion. The party in Ireland adverse to granting any relief, thus contrived to sow dissension amongst the Catholics themselves, to the great detriment of the Catholic cause. Lord Kenmare and his adherents were at this time usually called in derision " The Ad- dressers." ■472 APPENDIX. would have performed this service for them, with fidelity at least, and as long as I stay here I am willing to do it. When you say that " the first symptom of violence would suggest to me the propriety of separating myself from the Catholics," you exactly hit my idea, except that I go further, and should take my leave if I saw those principles prevalent, which, without a struggle, would produce the dissolution of this or any other state. Indeed I consider violence as quite out of the question, (except on a supposi- tion I shall mention presently,) whether the Catholics confine their desires within the limits of the constitution, or whether, by finding no quarter from government, they are driven to abandon its princi- ples, to take refuge in popularity, and to avail themselves of all the advantages of their cause and situation to play a desperate game. Your correspondents talk to you of violence. It is indeed in their language and thoughts, but nobody else thinks of it. Among the Roman Catholics, I could fancy myself among the councillors of a just and peaceful state. By every thing I see, and every thing I hear of the principal Protestants, you would imagine yourself at the meetings of rebels breathing nothing but blood and desperation. As long as you see my little flag at the stern of the Catholics' vessel, be sure there is nothing there unworthy of the cross, or of the harp. Depend upon it, my dear sir, I am as far from approving of or acquiescing in the sentiments and measures of anarchy, as my clients are from adopting the one or the other — on any principle. It is because I reprobate such sentiments and such measures from the bottom of my heart, that I deeply lament the system adopted by the Castle, if system it may be called. I may have some preten- sions to understand that subject, as in the study of the French revolution I have made a complete course of anatomy of anarchy. As it has occupied my thoughts incessantly for now near three years, I may be allowed to have a tolerable guess at its distant causes, as well as its outward effects. I do assure you the humours of the Roman Catholics have not yet that determination, and I also give it you as my solemn and conscientious opinion, that the conduct of the leading Protestants, countenanced and in most things actuated by government, is pre- cisely and exactly calculated to make a French revolution in Ire- land. If I was in their place, with that intention, I should act just as they do. Hoc Ithacus velit. I thought when I left Brussels, that I had got rid of the politics of the emperor, but I find them here. Do not imagine that the people can any where destroy a government, without its own assistance. Here they are so good as to take all the trouble upon themselves: not that I accuse them of acting intentionally on that principle, but it is the effect of indiscre- APPENDIX 473 tion, inefficiency, and perverse obstinacy, proceeding from pride and passion, as I will presently call to your recollection. As it is my determination at present not to separate myself from the Roman Catholics, and as I am in this respect governed by my opinion of my duty, my first desire is (since fortune has involved me in the concerns of so large a part of his majesty's subjects) that my principles and conduct should be justified in the eyes of his majesty. If therefore what I take the liberty of familiarly writing to you, does not supply you with sufficient grounds for this purpose, I will trouble you to let me know, that I may put my thoughts into a more regular form, which you will be so good as afterwards to make that use of, which may be the most dutiful, and the most respectful on my part towards his majesty. It is my duty to submit my opinions, such as they are, upon the conduct of a business so important, and which touches so nearly. As the wisdom of every measure, and every system of policy, depends upon the circumstances, it much imports to know, who are the Catholics, and what they are. The government of Ireland is either deceived, or pretends to be deceived, upon the first point. If I may judge by your letter, they do not deceive you, for you speak to me of my clients (the general committee) as the Catholics ; in this you certainly are not mistaken, though your friends here choose to play at cross purposes, and to give that appellation to those who with various motives, and from various deceptions, have signed L. B., and two or three more addresses °. Assuming the fact, as you and I conceive it to be, I am extremely desirous that his majesty should entertain a just, that is, a favourable opinion of the Catholics, without which the continuance of my connexion with them cannot be approved. I can take upon myself to assure you, that the Roman Catholics in general, and their nomination the committee^ are, as far as men can be (taken in the gross and with the weaknesses and feelings of man), equally remote from sedition, and from every principle which leads to it. In three miUions of men, there will be here and there a rash (perhaps a criminal) individual. In a great and critical public discussion, much will be done and said liable to misinterpretation ; but nothing has hitherto been done by them, and which may fairly be referred to them as a body, which, taken with its causes and circumstances, will not be found to deserve approbation. With regard to their general dispositions and sentiments, I can only speak my opinion, no man can do more. I think the Roman Catholics of this kingdom, and I believe you agree with me in ^ Addresses prepared by the party of Lord Kenmare. 474 APPENDIX. thinking them so, among the best, if not the very lest subjects his majesty has. To my certain knowledge, the principal men among them (I speak without reference to Lord Kenmare's adherents) are disposed to cultivate the principles, and to be subservient to the interests of good government, and therefore of his majesty's govern- ment. They retain almost universally the strictest principles of religion, which is the first security to government, and for the performance of every duty ; at the same time they are totally free from any of those foreign ties, or dangerous dogmas, of which the Roman Catholic persuasion was formerly suspected, though I believe unjustly. Rank for rank, and with equal advantages, I really think they are superior to the Protestants in talents, knowledge, and manners. This observation I believe to be just with regard to the whole people of Ireland, from which you cannot separate the idea of Catholics. The better sort of the Roman Catholics, who have the guidance of them, are sound, judicious, and discreet men ; they are mostly in the mercantile line, (being excluded from all others,) and they partake in the virtues of it, sobriety, frugality, order, and economy. The common people (which from the long and evil operation of the laws at present in force) — out of all proportion numerous, and for the greater part wretched indeed, and in the last possible degree of poverty and contempt — is yet much more indus- trious, sober, honest, and (as the fact is here) amenable, than could be expected in such circumstances. I leave yourself to judge upon this general description, whether this is a people which ought to be treated in the aggregate as a vile intractable rabble, to be thrown away, given up as wholly desperate, and rejected as unworthy — or whether they do not deserve some kind and grateful consideration for being what they are, with the difficulties they have had to con- tend with, and whether they do not form perhaps the best materials for the reparation of the state. They surely do not deserve the scornful and vindictive animosity which is entertained against them by those who, being subjects of the same sovereign, being appointed by that sovereign to rule over them, and being fed by the labour of their hands, are bound to love and to cherish them. Such is my real opinion of the Catholics, on which I would risk my character and my life. However, as every thing human has infirmities, and contains in itself principles of destruction, we are not to conceal from ourselves that many considerations render the Roman Catholics a subject of delicate and critical management. Although the habit is in general good, it is capable of breeding the most dreadful disorders. You will recollect that in its composition (though hitherto not in its APPENDIX. 475 principles) it is wholly and alsolutely democratical, and therefore must have a constant determination to that particular evil. It consists, in the first place, of an immense populace — of a clergy very little, if at all, elevated above the level of the people (upon whom it is wholly dependent), either in condition, education, or income. — A hierarchy in name only ; and even the superior clergy, though respectable in life and education, have nothing exterior to attract reverence. The better sort of the laity are, as I said, citizens and a trading interest which is popular in its nature ; so that the very aristocracy of the Roman Catholics is democratical. If I was to define a democracy, I would say it was a people among whom there prevailed a great equality, and existed no other means of injluence, but opinion alone. This is exactly the condition of the Roman Catholics. Civil and ecclesiastical establishments are the great organs of monarchical government. You will observe that with regard to the Eoman Catholics, three millions of his majesty's subjects, three- fourths of the Irish kingdom, there is not one oSice, civil, military, or ecclesiastical, not one object of ambition, no trust, no emolu- ment, no preferment, no grace, no favour, by which government can join one man, either directly or indirectly, through his con- nexions or dependents ; so that with regard to them, his majesty's government is palsied, and deprived of all the human aids and subsidiary instruments of authority which we call influence, into which, by various causes, no small part of the royal authority has resolved itself in these kingdoms. The influence of the crown moves in a very narrow circle, and the great mass of the people is not penetrated with a single ray of it. This circumstance is what makes the narrow bottom of the Irish government : it is a symptom of still increasing uneasiness, because the Roman Catholics, being the bulk of the Irish nation, and no longer under active persecution, must increase both in number and opulence. As to the landed gentlemen, or pretended aristocracy of the Roman Catholics, on whom you are bid to rely, do not let us deceive ourselves, no such thing exists. Please to recollect that the operation of the popery laws was and is intended to destroy the landed interest of that persuasion. It is but nine years that any Roman Catholic is capable by law to purchase one foot of land, nor possess it, except on such terms of vexation, and public and domestic servitude, as made him sell it at any price. That interest is reduced to a shadow. It is nothing but envious practical consciousness of their total want of consequence even among their own people, which has induced these addressers to recede. That very insignificance disables them from serving government. 476 APPENDIX. What can be greater than the landed interest of England ? And yet, if our country gentlemen of our House of Commons (and the landed interest is well represented there) were to withdraw, and erect a separate standard, disdaining to follow Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and the persons of active talents — let me ask you what figure would Mr. Bastard, Mr. EoUe, Mr. Powys, Sir G. P. Turner, Mr. Drake, jun., cum multis aliis, cut (I mean them no disparagement) ; but what followers would they be able to draw after them, if, like the handful of Catholic country gentlemen, they were to set them- selves up as the representative body of the whole nation. The knights derive their consequence, and maintain their ascendancy, only by being joined with the citizens and burgesses. Apart they are nothing. What, then, do you expect from the poor, shattered, broken-hearted gentry of a proscribed persuasion (most of them of nominal fortunes, and loaded with debt), and who have never exer- cised their minds in one civil occupation of any kind ? My dear sir, you see how enamoured a government must be of delusion who could for a moment hope support from such a rotten reed, and did not see, at once, that if the Eoman Cathohcs had any principle of government within themselves, it must be in their commercial inte- rest. A nation of three milUons of men, to be governed by a few weak, hot-headed, incapable country gentlemen, and who now labour under the odium (true or false) of treachery and desertion ! There was, however, a kind of passive service which they would and did perform. They were the showy matter of the body ; the fear of losing the advantage of their name was a constant check upon the rest. On occasion, when they were clearly right, they might have even interfered with a decisive weight ; government has unprofitably squandered that resource. It was a pledge in their favour which they have taken, and taken ill, and therefore the Roman Cathohc body is now democratical without any qualification whatsoever. As to the clergy, their power has for a long time past been dwindling away, and the same injudicious and ill-timed effort of the Castle, with regard to them, has made them an object, not of consideration and authority, but of jealousy and suspicion. You will be so good as to remember what I am now going to take the liberty of telling you. If any further attempt should be made to seduce their clergy, to make a political engine of them, or even to prevent them from actively co-operating with the laity, infallibly they will be shaken off", even to the very name. Consider what an evil it will be to have a people, and this people, without a rehgion. It always hangs much looser upon them than is commonly thought. In France they disencumbered themselves of it in about a year. The first step will be— remember what I tell you— to make the clergy APPENDIX. 477 elective, as in France. There the example begins. No earthly power can prevent it, and no human wisdom foresee, avert, or limit the consequences'. If ever there was a people, in the fundamental principles of mind, formed for a just monarchical government, and, at the same time, from a similitude of adventitious and collateral circumstances, remote and recent, liable to precipitate into the dregs of demo- cracy, it is the Roman Catholics. Their minds are ulcerated and inflamed, not only by their situation (which is oppressive and degrading beyond the example of any other nation), but by the exasperation of the late discussion, the political irritation of the measures of government, the breach of faith, the calumnies so industriously circulated — the animosity systematically excited against them, and the virulence of all the dependents and creatures of the Castle. They are accused of seditious intentions ; the proof that they are not guilty is that they have not made a sedition, for there is nothing to prevent them but their own good liking. I see them at all hours, and in aU humours, and have never heard an intimation of violence, except on supposition of total and hopeless rejection. On this idea I have heard some angry words, as, " May the first blood I shed be for my king and the constitution of my country ! the British constitution I should infinitely prefer, but some sort of constitution I will have." " The constitution of England is a good one, and the church of England may be better than ours, for aught I know ; but if Church and State are two great idols, before which my privileges and those of my posterity are to be sacrificed for ever, let them go to hell ! " These things may, but I think they ought not, to impress you to the disadvantage of the Roman Catholics. In my opinion, they are the expressions of minds not corrupt, but full of sensibility. Good or bad, it is right you should know how things stand. As to myself, I am very well satisfied the Castle wishes I were gone. My friend Hobart is so very angry with me, as to have made an attempt to have me taken into custody for putting my nose (it was literally no more, for I do not believe there were ten of them who could see me,) into the House of Commons. I understand they owe it to the discretion of my friend Lord Pery, that this piece of angry folly was not executed ; at which I heartily rejoice. Your letter would also convince me of their desire to get rid of me. Such is their wisdom ! They consider it as an evil of the last magnitude that there should be a handle apt and ready, by which ' The estatlishment of the Roman Catholic college at Maynooth, about two years later, probably averted the evil here aiiticipated. 478 APPENDIX. they may lay hold of the Catholics whenever they choose, and guide them at pleasure. They lament it as a misfortune that any person exists well affected to government, not ill affected towards them- selves ; who possesses the confidence of the people, and who, though without any great habits in the detail of business, is not wholly unconversant in the greater combination of public affairs, and the nature of the human mind. They feel me as an incum- brance, and consider my presence as a sort of reproach. I am not disposed to relieve them from that inconvenience, nor will I, so long as I am convinced that my presence encourages the hopes, moderates the passions, and helps to support the loyalty, of the best and most calumniated part of his majesty's subjects, and while it fixes their pursuits to rational and constitutional objects. The Castle has endeavoured to cover me with every kind of reproach, and to destroy my character and influence by every art. They have succeeded but little with the Catholics, or not at aU ; and I consider their anger as the petulance of children interrupted in their malicious trifling. It disturbs me not. If their obstinate perseverance in delusion and rashness should render things desperate, or any change of cir- cumstances should deprive me of all hope, I shall go ; and they will be foolish enough to rejoice ; for they will think the evil to be removed when I know it to be incurable. Their poor minds are disturbed because they see resolutions, and meetings, and publications, and a great deal of prate and noise up and down the country. They attribute all this to me, who am but the fly on the chariot- wheel — what terrifies them is a mere whistling of the wind. It may droop of itself ; they may lull it asleep ; but the true evil is the secret, dry, and silent rot, by which the distemper of the times, aided by the assiduous efforts of the government there', destroys the principles of adherence, and eats away the framework of society. That it will fall of itself, but into what forms and modifications of ruin, no man can tell. This will be the final effect of the system now pursued ; as to the moment, I may be mistaken as to a month, perhaps a year. The first report the Castle chose to spread concerning me, and that before I had been here a week, was, that I held a language of insolent intimidation — to the prejudice of the cause of my clients. Now as to the facts. If I made use of intimidation to you, I did to them ; for I spoke exactly the same language with regard to the danger to be apprehended, if government did not anticipate all other persons in a sincere and cordial union with the Eoman » The Castle of Dublin. APPENDIX. 479 Catholics. That was my opinion, and it is still so. To point out to statesmen a state necessity seemed to me neither absurd nor improper. The best reason that I can conceive for repealing laws enacted to secure the Protestant interest is, that, instead of securing, they expose it to the most imminent danger. This argu- ment, such as it was, I used only to the lord-lieutenant, his secre- tary, the chancellor, Sir H. Langrishe, and the attorney-general — persons whom I knew to be servants, and thought to be confidential servants, of the crown. How these arguments came to be disclosed and disfigured for the purpose of injuring me, is for them to account. That they should have thought what I said a menace, proceeds from the degree of inflammation in which their minds very visibly were. I did not suppose myself to be so very terrific. But I find, as the hare said when the frogs leaped into the river as she ran along the bank, " Here are those who are afraid even of me." Your friends seem to have adopted the opinion of the Protestant populace : that there was a " General Burke come over to put him- self at the head of the Papists." Another report, for which I am obliged to the Castle, is, that you had pledged yourself to support our application on the points pro- posed to you". Depend upon it, I have not committed you, nor said any thing to imply a dissent between the English and Irish govern- ments. I do not, indeed, know that any thing of the kind exists, except as far as the Castle, by an unprovoked denial of it, seems to argue a guilty conscience ; and, as far as my opinion of your judg- ment leads me to suppose, you disapprove of what has been done here. I certainly said that Lord Kenmare's address was the only obstacle we met with in England ; Keogh knows it to be so as well as me, and he knows very well that Hobart's arrival so altered the state of things as to prevent your asking him even to dinner. — I find a strong disposition in the Roman Catholics to believe that the pro- scriptive principles and precipitate conduct of the Castle is not congenial to your opinion. They still look forward towards England with a fond hope. I will own to you that I have not taken any great pains to discourage them. For this I am, perhaps, to blame. But, if it will be any particular satisfaction to you, and you think the public service will be much benefitted by it, I wiU undeceive them. They shall be taught to know that they have no friends in any part of the empire ; that it is your pohcy also to divide and break them to pieces ; to turn the clergy, for whose doctrines they are persecuted, into the accom- plices of their oppressions, and the superintendents of their " Mr. O'Beirne is here addressed as one in tlie confidence of the English government upon Irish affairs. 480 APPENDIX. slavery ; to raise a Protestant outcry against them, and under the simulation of friendship or favour, to cover them with contumely and reproach. If you positively desire this task of my friendship, I will perform it. But, to return to the subject. On a general view of the circumstances of the Catholics, and of the times, the policy to be pursued was plain and obvious. When the nation stood divided into three great masses, it was very clear that, instead of making new divisions, the Protestant Church party, in which government resides, if it could not have ioth the other parties, ought to endeavour to gain one of them, and in preference that which, being properly the people, is most necessary to a government, and which assimilates most in its character and principles with the constitution in church and state. This was, and must have been, the policy ; and, therefore, how the government of this country came, as it were, to fall back into the old partial and prescriptive system, to take refuge in the prejudices and resentments of the Church Protestants, to inflame them against the Roman Catholics, their most natural and surest resource ; and how the Castle has contrived, in a plan of concilia- tion, to fill every thing with fear, confusion, suspicion, and division, and to alienate and disgust every description of men; — this appears so extraordinary, that it is worth while to pursue the train of cir- cumstances which have led them to turn their back upon the object of this original destination. To find the way out of the labyrinth, we must see how they got into it. In the whole proceeding there has been a mixture of passion, in which indeed it originated, and that not the passion of fear alone, though it was, and still continues to be, a main ingredient. You will recollect the dislike and iU opinion which Hobart so visibly showed of Keogh. He was not new to him ; and the negotiation I carried on with you, was not, as it might have appeared to you, the beginning of the transaction, but was in fact the middle of it, or rather the end of another transaction. The Castle has maintained for eight or ten years a struggle in the general committee, in the person of Lord Kenmare and his party against another party, of which Keogh ' was the most efficient man. This contest devolved upon Hobart when he became secretary^. The party which the Castle espoused was finally routed and defeated just before the commencement of our negotiation, and on the express point of an immediate application to parliament, in which the reference to the king's confidential servants in England was involved. So that the ' An Irish gentleman of the Roman Catholic persuasion, of considerable ability and weight in the country. 2 Chief secretary in Ireland : Lord Westmoreland being at this time viceroy. APPENDIX. 481 Castle took up this business by compulsion, under all the exaspera- tion of recent defeat ; and Hobart's journey was a submission (which he perhaps thought humiliating) to an adversary whom he hated and despised. The business itself was operose, and the requisitions I made much greater than they liked to grant. Partly to get rid of part of the difficulty, by having it in their power to moderate the con- cessions at pleasure, and partly to bring the Catholic committee again into his power, Hobart (or some other) formed the scheme of rallying Lord K.'s party, overturning and dissolving the general committee, and making an appeal to the Catholics at large. How much absurdity, violence, injustice, and insidiousness, were involved in this proceeding, and all the concomitant circumstances, I will not now trouble you with. If this dispute continues, we mean to refer it to England in the most solemn manner. Suffice it to say, that out of this scheme have arisen all the events and all the difficulties of this affair. When Hobart left Ireland, Lord Kenmare''s address (the great sheet anchor) was on the anvil. I have reason to believe, from the information I have acquired, that the instructions for concession were full and explicit ; but some latitude was neces- sarily allowed to those on whom the execution rested. When Hobart returned, he found the addresses going forward with some appearance of success, and his party among the Catholics (as is the way with defeated parties) flattered him and themselves with vain and delusive hopes. In the mean time, as a counterpart to the addresses, pamphlets were written, the newspapers, the runners and emissaries were employed, and every engine set at work to calumniate the non-addressing Catholics, (viz. the general com- mittee, then actually in negotiation with government,) on the ground of a supposed junction with the factious part of the Dis- senters, in order fundamentally to destroy the constitution in church and in state. All these efforts, as was very natural, raised a great alarm among the churchmen, and particularly among members of parliament, whose borough interests, and all the valu- able appendages of them, seemed to be directly threatened. Such are the preparatory steps. A measure of conciliation towards the Roman Catholics is ushered in by an alarm of an attack upon the Protestant interest, and an outcry at the supposed exorbitant demands and seditious proceedings of the objects of the concession. We come now to the conduct of the measure, which is attended with every circumstance that can be offensive and suspicious to the minds of the Catholics. The very first day of the session, one of the most confidential friends of govern- VOL. II. I i 482 APPENDIX. ment', as it were running a race to take the business out of any other hands, refusing all previous communication with the Catholics, not giving them time in a parliamentary way to express their own desires, with many professions of regard, announces a bill in their favour. While this is going forward, Lord Carhampton, a confidential friend of government also, in moving the address in the lords, is pronouncing a bitter philippic against the proteges of administration in the other House, — in which House two known dependents .of government, placemen, make violent speeches against any measure of rehef. Not one of them except the mover and D. Brown has yet said a word in favour of the bill, and many have spoken against it. This is less wonderful, as it was publicly announced before the sessions began, that this was a measure in which the authority of government was not to be tried. It was, to be sure, a pretty scheme to accommodate such a measure to the judgments and the prejudices of the majority of the Irish House of Commons, that is, to adapt Uberality and beneficence to the taste of antipathy and interested- ness. At length the bill appears ; the policy of it is fundamentally vicious. For if the circumstances of the times, the temper both of Catholics and Protestants, or of either, make it improper to con- cede, why is any thing given ? If conciliation is necessary, why do they not give enough to attain the end ? But no settled principle is followed, and all is confusion in their measure as in their conduct. They publicly declare that designs of intimidation are on foot; they say they are not intimidated, and yet they make concessions. They divide the Catholics into two parties, the respectable and the quiet, the vociferous and the noisy ; they do not deter the violent, they do not gratify the deserving. In fact, the bill about which so much fuss is made is perfectly ridiculous as a measure of relief, and when it comes to be discussed, will show the most perfect igno- rance of the subject. Four persons, and four only, can be called to the bar by this bill in five years, and no attorney. All the other clauses are not even pretended to be of any use to the Eoman Catholics. Such is this bill, which dissatisfies every man of every party : yet if it is carried at all, it will be carried only by the most prodigious efforts. In order to prevent themselves from being carried too far in concession, the Castle raised an alarm and excited a spirit which now prevents them from going as far as they wish. This I took the liberty of telling you would happen, and repeatedly stated it to Hobart both here and in England. The principle on which they 2 Sir Hercules Langrishe. APPENDIX. 483 go is this, we shall satisfy the respectable and leading Catholics, and then we may defy the rest. This reasoning is founded on the criminal delusion " that the addressers are in effect the body of the Catholics." This Sir H. Langrishe repeats day after day in the House of Commons with the obstinacy of a madman, though he knows it not to be true, nor is the conclusion juster than the fact is true, nor does it follow they will be satisfied, because, before they knew what was to be given, they said they would be satisfied with any thing. He has taken the addressers at their word, but he has not kept his word with them. For, in fact, he promised them much more than he has given. What is the end of all this prevarication and delusion ? It can- not deceive themselves ; it cannot deceive the Catholics : it is meant to deceive you, under favour of the distance, and of the ofiicial confidence you repose in them. Lord K.'s address was first contrived to persuade you that the Roman Catholics did not avow the general committee, and that they would be satisfied with- out those concessions which I pointed out. This detected and barefaced imposture is still persevered in, to make you believe that the Roman Catholics will be satisfied with the mockery of relief contained in the present bill. Government knows, individually and collectively, that they will not. I have already told you, that I thought that passion and error actuated the Castle. If it was other- wise, the introduction of a bill in favour of the Roman Catholics, under all the present circumstances, which the mover knew would give them no satisfaction, could only proceed from a deliberate and systematic intention to betray his majesty's government. But delusion, perhaps at first unintentional, now wilful, is the cause of the whole, and if it is suffered to continue, will be the cause of many other rash and violent measures. Give me leave to entreat you to beware of delusion. It will lead you from point to point. It is to-day, do not listen to the people, because they are not the body of the Roman Catholics. To-morrow, it will be, coerce them, because they are not the Roman Catholics, but only a contemptible rabble ; and then they will draw themselves, draw the Protestants, at least, who will adhere to them, draw England itself into a quarrel with the whole nation, because, contrary to all truth and all reason, the Castle chooses to assert, for the convenience of the day, that the general committee are not the Catholics. In the state of mind, and on the principles I have described, has the arduous and critical measure been undertaken ; but you have not yet all the combinations of the effective causes. You will I i 2 484 APPENDIX. recollect that his majesty has in Ireland English servants and Irish servants. The former are supposed to be the best disposed to the measures of an effectual relief to the Catholics. With respect to the latter, there are various reasons why they are less inclined to what I believe to be your ideas. First, because it is your measure. The question with them is not solely whether the Eoman Catholics are to be relieved, nor to what extent, nor whether the proposed concessions are consistent with the safety of , the establishment, but whether the great par- liamentary interests, in the bottom of which (some in ministry, some in opposition) this government has been carried on, are to determine what the measures of government are to be, and to what extent they are to go. This particular measure is now particularly disagreeable to their interests ; 1st. Because it is new : 2ndly. It alarms the jealousy, though, in my opinion, it does not endanger, except by a very remote and gradual operation, these ruling interests, which being in a great measure artificial, and not a little corrupt, are suspicious in proportion : 3rdly. The tendency of the measure to give to the crown, or at least to raise up in the country, a national interest, independent of these parliamentary ones, and calculated to balance and control them: 4thly. That the measure seems, not only to invade their monopoly of power and emolument, but is offensive to, or rather mortally wounds their pride. It does so by establishing that the Catholics, hitherto a despised and abject race, are henceforward to be considered as an integral, essentia], and perhaps decisive principle in the regulation of the national system ; and in its evident consequences, it approximates and brings to a sort of equality with themselves a people regarded in a light, which those who have not been in this country cannot con- ceive, because it exists in no other country. They feel towards the Catholics that sensation of contempt and anger with which a proud rich man would see a common beggar come from the corner of the street, and sit down to his table. No small portion of terror from the consequences of not conceding (depend upon it they have no real fears from concession, nor are entitled to have) is mixed with all these ingredients. Now, as to the English servants ; they by contagion are infected with the same principles ; nor are motives of a jealous, personal consequence entirely wanting. The difficulties were not lessened by the measure being yours. It was not necessary to encourage you to a frequent or a too peremptory interference. Are they to teach us to govern Ireland ? How should they know the local circumstances of the country? Government to APPENDIX. 486 treat and make terms with Roman Catholics ! We will show them we know how to do our own business. Hence proceeded this famous address. Partly from these feelings and motives, from the natural de- spondency of all men on the subordinate executory instruments, from the want of a clear, fixed principle, or of decisive commanding minds, the English servants took the determination, or perhaps, without any determination at all, resigned, gave themselves up, and resolved their whole authority into that of the parliamentary interests, upon whose idea, or rather upon whose passions the whole measure has been regulated and reformed. The conse- quence of this feebleness is as I foresaw. If they had proposed an effectual measure, and instead of an equivocal, or rather hostile conduct, had seemed in earnest in that measure, they would have had no difficulty at all. But now they have an actual mutiny among the dependents of the Castle, and they are obliged to stretch every nerve of government to carry a bill which offends the Pro- testants, without conciliating the Catholics. I know a difficulty you labour under. You cannot think this government is conducting itself wisely towards the public, or honestly towards the Catholics, who are entitled, as I think I am also, to fair dealing, if not to kindness, instead of the unqualified hostility we both are treated with. But you have a principle which in many cases is wise, and formed in honourable motives, viz. that colleagues in office are not to be given up, even when they do wrong, and that the credit of government requires that no con- trariety of sentiment should appear between that of England and that of Ireland. Undoubtedly, in the common train of business it ought so to be ; but this principle of official propriety cannot apply in those things which go to the most important interests of the crown, and where, perhaps, the existence of the empire is at stake. In this case you might set things a little to rights, without the danger of any public exposure. It might perhaps lower them a little in their own eyes. In mine you may perceive there is no great danger of that. After all, what signify these little ideas of personal dignity. The successful issue of a great measure more than com- pensates any thing it can suffer, and no attention to it can alleviate the disgrace of a signal failure. But if public extremities were necessary, your colleagues here have no claim upon you. It is not the error in the execution of a determination taken in common, through which it would be proper to support them. No ; they are acting systematically, upon directly the reverse principle of that which was settled between you. They have, therefore, to use a short expression, betrayed the faith of office with regard to you. 486 APPENDIX. And why did they make the dereliction of your politics ? It was owing to a little mixture of passion, a submission on their parts to the resistance of their own colleagues, in favour of their parlia- mentary dependents, a resistance to the imposition of a plan of government from your side of the water, and on your ideas for objects in the just pursuit of his majesty's interests. So that in fact your interference, though it may look like a control, will be a support against those who have overborne, and turned them from their purpose. If you do not interfere, consider for what you abandon them, and what you abandon along with them. You abandon a most meritorious and miserable people ; a line of policy, natural, just, easy, safe ; for the old partial, narrow, false, pro- scriptive, and destructive system on which this government has been carried on, for the profit of a few, and the impoverishment of the nation. Nay, in my opinion, you abandon that system itself; for it cannot stand on its old principles, and those who are inter- ested in it have not wisdom enough to conform themselves to the necessities of the times, by enlarging their foundations. If you leave them to govern the nation on their own narrow and pas- sionate ideas, they will bring on some great convulsion, and by some contrivance draw you along with them. It behoves you then well to consider for whose sakes it is these risks are to be incurred. If these Irish parliamentary interests were those on which you could have a personal dependence in the hour of difficulty — if they had any real or solid strength by which they could give the crown an effectual, a sure, and a national support in a great emergency, it might be right to make some sacrifices to them. But look back to the examples of past times, and see whether they have ever been able or willing to make a stand in favour of the crown. They have uniformly fallen in with the popular humour. They will tell you they are an English interest (though, by-the-bye, at this very instant, they afffect a sort of popular tone about the influence of the English councils), but in every contest we have had with Ireland, we have been obliged to give way, notwithstanding these potent allies, in favour of whose monopoly we are to risk a civil war, and to keep the Irish people in slavery. In a very recent and striking instance, have they not left you in the lurch ? And yet how dearly, and how often has the crown been obliged to pur- chase them? You have repurchased your own, and are you sure of them ? and is it for their obstinacy and perverseness that you would advise the crown to forego a system of wise and generous policy, deliberately adopted, and so honourable to the kingly character ? In the ancient times of our history, his majesty's predecessors APPENDIX. 487 found it necessary to curb the pride and violence of the overgrown feudal aristocracy, and for that purpose to resort to the people. You know very well all this is the origin of that communication of franchise to the people, to which the Roman Catholics now aspire ; and from which extension our happy form of government, the true strength of the monarchy, has proceeded. Yet these great vassals, who were formerly so troublesome to the crown, were able to support it in proportion, could lead whole tribes, and occasion- ally bring armies into the field. But as for these gentlemen, they can bring nothing but their dozen or half-dozen members of par- liament, whom they generally select for their incapacity and subserviency. When things come to the push, what can they do for you ; or what can that parliament which they retail to you, and which does not in any respect represent a fourth part of the nation, which fourth part does but just recognize their authority ? A parliament, with a nation at its back, is a mighty thing, and kings must sometimes submit to it. That not being the case here, it is in a state of absolute and total dependence on the crown, on which it leans and has its being. It is a sort of little heptarchy without a deep root in the country. Suppose our House of Com- mons consisted of only eight or ten Lord Lonsdales. Let the crown withdraw its support, and they are gone. Accordingly this true condition appears in the temper they show towards their people, that of a pet which, in the indulgence of impotent passions, abuses the confidence of superior protection. I have already hinted to you their tone and language. It is on the strength of the crown they rely for the support of this absurd exclusive system ; and not of the crown of Ireland alone, but of the crown of England also. I argue from this their state of absolute dependence ; not that his majesty ought to desert them, if they were really in any danger, but that they ought not to be encouraged, by an assurance of support in any case, to set at nought the principles of reason and justice, and to defy that very authority on which their existence depends. The question is, what is now to be done. What ought to have been done at first. In my opinion, you can carry your point and establish your true policy now. And government can carry any thing here, if they show a clearness and a decision in the principle of the measure, and at the same time exert their authority, which they will do if you exert yours on them decisively. If they think it difiicult, let them call me to their consultations, and I will answer for the success. Let them take half as much pains to raise my credit with their friends as they have taken to destroy it, and I 488 APPENDIX. shall be able to serve them. Let them labour to allay the ferment, and assuage the fears of the Protestants, as they have laboured to excite them, and I v^ill answer for a speedy and happy termination of all the disputes and heart-burnings of this country. I own I am astonished they should have thought there was any difficulty. It is all their own creating. So they had taken me into their confidence, and not made war on me and my friends, it never would have happened. They might have done more than I asked for the Roman Catholics with universal acquiescence and satisfaction. What cannot be done in this country, at any time, with the power of the crown on one side, and the Catholics on the other I Greater instruments of government cannot exist. Do think of this, my dear sir, and do not for want of a little timely authority, of a manly adherence to your own deliberate resolutions, suffer your most necessary decisions to be overruled and turned aside. Do not, I repeat it, sacrifice the necessary superintending authority which, since the emancipation of Ireland, alone keeps the empire united to a subordinate authority (in the very act of throwing off your control) which, on the principles it is now proceeding on, cannot stand without a strong exertion of British power. I suppose as much is said to you, as is said to me about local knowledge, as is said upon every occasion where a pretext is wanted for setting at defiance the principles of general reason and common sense. It is a sort of knowledge that men teach you while they tell you that you have it not, and so many possess it, that it is always at command ; but if it was absolutely necessary to have a personal local knowledge, in order to judge of the affairs of a great country, the conclusion would be a little too extensive. What local know- ledge can you or any minister have of India, of America, of the West Indies, of New Holland, more than of Ireland, and yet you must take upon you to form a judgment, and a decisive judgment too, in their principal concerns, because a great empire (in which a universal local knowledge cannot be had) requires a presiding mind. The business now in question depends upon the leading general principles of human nature, and of government. It may be judged of in Japan as well as in Dublin. Personal experience has no more to do with it than local knowledge. It is a great crisis in the affairs of Europe — of the empire — of Ireland. Do you think that such a thing could happen twice in any man's life, or, perhaps, in the whole history of man. No two situations are exactly alike. Most of the fatal errors which have brought empires to the ground, have arisen from an obstinate adherence to some little, blind, prac- tical, inveterate trick of policy, when the machine of government APPENDIX, 489 was no longer on its hinges, and after the elements of society were all let loose. This is not evidently the case in Ireland. The nobility of France, a privileged order, but (as my father has shown in his letter to Sir H. Langrishe) much less oppressively so than the Protestants of Ireland, destroyed themselves by their adherence to the principle of exclusion. That nobility, as other sorts of men grew up and crowded about them in number and opulence, instead of extending the principle of their strength by associations, instead of widening their bottom, vainly sought their safety in clinging close to the invidious distinction, and drawing the line of separation still more strongly. AU mankind would do so, if left to themselves. It is the illusion not only of the imbecility natural to those who stand only on the ground of artificial distinctions, but of avarice ; for the exclusive privilege becomes more valuable, like every other monopoly, as those who enjoy it decrease in number. This redoubled adherence to the exclusive privilege was the policy of the whole reign of Louis XVI. ; he, from weakness, submitting himself enthely to the privileged order, being immediately in contact with them, and therefore yielding to their resistance as the most proximate, and giving way to their impulse ; and they, from the illusion I have just mentioned, taking refuge in the very principle of their weak- ness. So it will be with the privileged Protestantism of Ireland, if the King of Ireland, and you who advise the King of Ireland, give way to a first resistance of those who are in a situation in which no man is qualified to govern himself, and who. if they are suffered by a vain confidence in your strength, while they refuse your counsel, will betray both themselves and you to ruin. This, dear sir, looks like reason, and it is reason. I do assure you very many of the causes which produced the French revolution live and flourish here. The landed interest is separated from the commercial interest ; the gentry from the peasantry, both the civil and ecclesiastical state from the people. The Romish establishment formed a sort of connecting link, and supplied to the people the purpose of a religious establishment. The late manoeuvre of the Castle (I do assure you it is a fact) has shaken the very foundation of this popular church. As to the gentry of Ireland, they are not only an alien, but a hostile nation ; so they regard themselves, and it will not be surprising if some time or other the wretched people consider them in the same light. You deceive yourself, if you think even the Protestant part of the com- munity (I speak not now of the Dissenters) have any fixed attach- ment for the constitution in church or state, or any respect for parliament. The whole fabric of the state is rotten, a wreck, and a standing ruin. 490 APPENDIX. There is a cant going here (for every thing they do and say is false) that this country is extremely flourishing and prosperous, which supposed state of public felicity is magnified excessively to show the danger of altering the policy of so flourishing a nation ; as if the slavery of three-fourths of the people was a necessary efficient cause of public prosperity. In the very next breath, if you talk to them of giving the elective franchise to the people, they will tell you they are in such an universal state of poverty and barbarism, as to he wholly unfit for liberty. Two minutes after, they will tell you, this same people are extremely happy and comfortable. A gentle- man of Tipperary was descanting on this topic (the fair side of it) the other day, and I will tell you his account of the people in that best province of Ireland. They have seven pence per diem, which they receive, not in money, but the greatest part of it in a piece of land, which they cultivate with their own labour, and at their own expense, and for which they pay seven pounds per Irish acre, which is about one acre and a half English. With this, they have no provision for age, accident, or sickness, (like our poor's rate,) they seldom see bread and meat, hardly ever ; potatoes are their sole sustenance, which being a most productive root, is the cause these wretches are so numerous ; but as it is also a most precarious crop, it seldom happens that seven years pass without a famine or some- thing like it. As to the proof of general prosperity, they advance the increase of imports and exports. Such is the rage for exaggera- tion, that a person the other day, in showing me the comparative statement for some years back, chose very nearly to double the sum, though the paper was under my eye, and therefore the exag- geration stared me in the face. This statement I suppose has been sent to you. You will observe the total of the highest year's imports and exports is not equal to the increase of the revenue of England since 1784. Taking the comparative population and extent of Ireland, you will see what this boasted prosperity of Ireland amounts to. There is unfortunately in their whole system too much desire of deception. The day that the friends of government were called together to receive the communications of the intentions of government respecting the Roman Catholics, the chancellor announced the business, by informing the company that a large seizure of arms belonging to Papists had been made at Dundalk. This fact, however opportune, happened not to be true, — such stories I suppose are conveyed to you from time to time, to make you think that violence is threatened, and may have given rise to some expressions in your letter to me. I must request you, once for all, to be a little on your guard, and not to believe hastily any thing you are told, either with regard to the Catholics or myself. APPENDIX. 491 Some interference on the part of the English government would be less necessary, if the fatal policy employed with regard to the Eoman Catholics was not prolific. What do you think of their playing the very same game with regard to the Dissenters, which has ruined us with the Catholics? If this country is lost, the attempt to draw off the Roman Catholic clergy from the laity will have been among the primordial causes. Until I heard it with my ears in the House of Commons, I did not believe that the project of doubling the royal donation to the dissenting clergy was in agita- tion. It is proposed to make it 6000^. instead of 3000?. I under- stand the laity have come to a resolution to deduct the sum pro- posed to be added from their private donations, and that the clergy have had some meetings in the north, in which they have deter- mined to refuse this addition, on the idea of its being a hrihe to take part against the Catholics ; on all this I make no comment. There are two other hopeful projects on the carpet. One is, that the grand juries should present the Roman Catholic committee as a nuisance. The other scheme to raise a Protestant militia. As to the first project, it will only serve to render the law odious in the eyes of the people, and contemptible by making it a political engine, and by a juridical animadversion of that which, because it is no crime, it cannot punish. If the Protestants arm, it is probable that the Catholics will arm also. You will then have the happy days of the volunteers, with the additional advantage, that they are renewed amidst the blaze of civil and religious animosity. You will have the country covered with an armed peasantry, and you will please to combine that idea with all the circumstances of the Now, my dear sir, observe how one thing grows out of another. When I first heard of the manoeuvres of the Castle, you may remember how uneasy I was ; I foresaw much evil from it, though not all that has, and is likely to happen. I wanted you to interfere then ; I interfere now. Hobart told you to let him alone ; he could manage the Catholics. I told you he could not. Has he done it ? He thinks he can manage the Dissenters. He cannot do it. When one trick fails, he will try another, and so to the end of the chapter. There is, however, one trick, and one alone, which will succeed, if it is tried in time. But it is a master trick ; a plain, direct, and simple conduct, to attach the great body of the people to government by showing attachment to them ; by ceasing to endeavour to drag them backwards by the tail ; by coercing the mutinous and restive dependents of administra- tion, great and small. By this means you will give strength and credit to government in parliament and in the nation. At pi-esent 492 APPENDIX. all is violence and passion. Instead of providing against the necessities of the times, composing the agitations of the country, and carrying the measures of government, they act upon the prin- ciples of a little squabble; the only object is to carry a point against Mr. Keogh. This is at the bottom of the whole ; and for this the nation is agitated from end to end, and divided into a thousand factions. It is not surprising they should not have authority over their own dependents, when they themselves appealed as it were to the passions, prejudices, and interests of those dependents, and called upon them for help ; it is not surprising that the spirit they exerted to prevent the Catholics from obtaining what they (the Roman Catholics) wanted, should obstruct the Castle in giving what they wished to give. — When they talk to you of a Protestant public voice in this country, you are told of a thing which has hardly any existence. The whole or nearly the whole may be resolved into the government, which extends its influence, either of civil or eccle- siastical patronage, into almost every family, either directly, or indi- rectly. The churchmen are but a handful of people, and if govern- ment, instead of ruling is ruled by them, it is deposed. It does not govern the Catholics, it does not govern the Dissenters. If it does not govern the members of parliament, the placemen, the pensioners, the custom-house ofiicers, the packed corporations, the policemen, &c., whom does it govern? I should beg you to consider seriously the effect of this parhamentary mutiny which the ministers here have excited, and are now labouring to quell, while they assiduously pursue all the measures which before excited it. When the army of revolted emissaries is once loose, you do not know what course it may take ; it may assume a hundred strange combina- tions ; it may join itself with the Dissenters, it may even join itself with these very Catholics; either in its divisions or its consohdation, it may generate new parties, upon new principles, or, perhaps, aggravating the asperity of the old, it may precipitate the nation into an instant civil war. I seriously beg to recall to your recollection the idea of sending some person of confidence over here, to take a view of the ground. Whoever he is, he must give an equal ear to both parties, Catholics as well as Protestants. There never was a country which, in every view of it, had more occasion for a cool head, and a steady, lenient hand ; but with that I think the game is easy enough. I own I tremble for the effects of the summer, during which affairs may be embroiled in some very extraordinary manner. The Castle seems in a great hurry to have the session over as soon as possible * ; I think, on the contrary, it ought to be protracted * The session was prorogued the 18th April, 1792. APPENDIX. 493 as long as possible ; government ought to keep that engine in its hands (it is in its hands) to the last moment. Even such a parlia- ment as this is the safest channel for the vfants of the people, and the necessities of government. Let it be open as long as may be, to apply a parliamentary remedy to the ever-varying occasions of this eventful period. If you want to do any thing for the Catholics here, the only way is to do it in England. The opposition, and I think the sense of the nation, will go with you, at least as far as the points they ask. As things stand at present, many things make it difficult for me to suggest any thing to the Castle. Yet at every risk I continue to suggest things by one channel or other, though with little effect. They endeavour to wrest every word I utter, in order to fix some cruel imputation upon me. When they know what I wish, for that very reason they do the contrary. One thing I have to complain of which is rather of a serious nature. Many things which I said to the ministers concerning the designs, principles, and disposition imputed to the Dissenters, have been by those ministers conveyed to the Dis- senters, as charges of a formed design to destroy the constitution in church and state. That I always thought the principles of the French revolution had that tendency is most true ; but I never said that the Dissenters, or any other set of men, had actually formed a conspiracy against the state. To insist upon the conse- quences of any future possible combination of affairs, and to follow the principles of action, and the seeds of evil, latent even in the minds of those who entertain them, to their positive actions and remote effects, this is not to accuse. Even if I had accused, it ought not to have been disclosed. It may be often most necessary for his majesty's interests to communicate to his confidential servants imputations which do not admit of proof, and suspicions which may be unfounded, against powerful men and powerful parties. If these suspicions and implications are to be conveyed to the parties themselves, it is impossible, with common safety, to con- sult the interests of the crown ; it is a violation of official trust of the most dangerous kind. The cause of all monarchy requires at this time, a more particular fidelity towards those who are attached to it. I think even so humble an individual as myself may have some pretension to be considered as well affected to it. I find myself called upon to justify myself to the Dissenters, who desire to know upon what grounds I have laid those supposed imputations upon them. It is rather hard that I should be obhged to justify myself to them ; but I must not suffer myself to be ruined with every sort of men ; to be abandoned to the rage of the Dissenters 494 APPENDIX. by the government, for whose sake, I should have been willing, if it was necessary, to have incurred their enmity. Now, my dear sir, I leave you in possession of all these facts and reasonings. Use your judgment upon them. Consider whether what I say is just, not whether I am presumptuous in saying it. I write to you without reserve, because I know you will not turn it to my disadvantage under any change of circumstances, or at any time. Let me know what is objected against the Roman Catholics, or against me. J will give you a satisfactory explanation. You are addressed by our adversaries through a hundred mouths ; by us, through mine only. Whatever charges they have made, I join issue with them. I have said much, but much is left unsaid. Believe me, &c. foe." ' This letter is neither written by, nor addressed to, Edmund Burke. It is written by his son, who undertook the office of agent for the Roman Cathohcs of Ireland with the consent and approbation of his father, and as, while in Dublin, he was in constant communication with his father, it may be fairly presumed to express the sentiments of the latter, respecting the government and the condition of that country. The copy from which it is printed is without date, but it must have been written from Dublin in February or March, 1792, while the bill for making certain relaxations of the popery laws, passed that session, was still pending in the Irish parUament. WORKS THE EIGHT HONOURABLE EDMUND BURKE. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE EEADER'. The late Mi-. Burke, from a principle of unaffected humility, which they, who were the most intimately acquainted with his character, best know to have been in his estimation one of the most important moral duties, never himself made any collection of the various publications with which, during a period of forty years, he adorned and enriched the literature of this country. When, however, the rapid and unexampled demand for his " Reflections on the Revolution in France" had unequivocally testified his celebrity as a writer, some of his friends so far prevailed upon him, that he permitted them to put forth a regular edition of his works. Accordingly, three volumes in quarto appeared under that title in 1792, printed for the late Mr. Dodsley. As the activity of the author's mind, and the lively interest which he took in the welfare of his country, ceased only with his life, many subsequent productions issued from his pen, which were received in a manner corresponding with his distinguished reputa- tion. He wrote also various tracts, of a less popular description, which he designed for private circulation, in quarters where he supposed they might produce most benefit to the community ; but which, with some other papers, have been printed, since his death, from copies which he left behind him fairly transcribed, and most of them corrected as for the press. All these, now collected together, are disposed in chronological order. The several posthumous publications, as they from time to time made their appearance, were accompanied by appropriate prefaces. ' This Advertisement was originally prefixed to the fourth Quarto Volume, being the First Volume of the Posthumous Works. It is now reprinted with such alterations as are requisite to adapt it to the present Edition. VOL. II. K k 498 ADVERTISEMENT. These, however, as they were principally intended for temporary purposes, have been omitted. Some few explanations only, which they contained, seem here to be necessary. The " Observations on the Conduct of the Minority in the Session of 1793" had been written and sent by Mr. Burke as a paper entirely and strictly confidential ; but it crept surreptitiously into the world, through the fraud and treachery of the man whom he had employed to transcribe it, and, as usually happens in such cases, came forth in a very mangled state, under a false title, and without the introductory letter. The friends of the author, with- out waiting to consult him, instantly obtained an injunction from the Court of Chancery to stop the sale. What he himself felt, on receiving intelligence of the injury done him by one from whom his kindness deserved a very different return, will be best conveyed in his own words. The following is an extract of a letter to a friend, which he dictated on this subject from a sick bed. " Bath, February 15, 1797. " My deah Laueence, " On the appearance of the advertisement, all newspapers and all letters have been kept back from me till this time. Mrs. Burke opened your's, and finding that all the measures in the power of Dr. King, yourself, and Mr. Woodford, had been taken to suppress the publication, she ventured to deliver me the letters to-day, which were read to me in my bed, about two o'clock. " This affair does vex me ; but I am not in a state of health at present to be deeply vexed at any thing. Whenever this matter comes into discussion, I authorize you to contradict the infamous reports, which (I am informed) have been given out; that this paper had been circulated through the ministry, and was intended gradually to slide into the press. To the best of my recollection I never had a clean copy of it but one, which is now in my pos- session ; I never communicated that, but to the Duke of Portland, from whom I had it back again. But the duke will set this matter to rights, if in reality there were two copies, and he has one. I never showed it, as they know, to any one of the ministry. If the duke has really a copy, I believe his and mine are the only ones that exist, except what was taken by fraud from loose and ADVERTISEMENT. 499 incorrect papers by S , to whom I gave the letter to copy. As soon as I began to suspect him capable of any such scandalous breach of trust, you know with what anxiety I got the loose papers out of his hands, not having reason to think that he kept any other. Neither do I beheve in fact (unless he meditated this viUany long ago) that he did or does now possess any clean copy. I never communicated that paper to any one out of the very small circle of those private friends, from whom I concealed nothing. " 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 inten- tion of publication. I do not retract any one of the sentiment9 contained 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 consequence of the resolutions of the Whig Club, 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 I ever had a notion that it should meet the public eye." In the mean time a large impression, amounting, it is believed, to three thousand copies, had been dispersed over the country. To recall these was impossible ; to have expected that any acknow- ledged production of Mr. Burke, fuU of matter likely to interest the future historian, could remain for ever in obscurity, would have been foUy ; and to have passed it over in silent neglect, on the one hand, or on the other, to have then made any considerable changes in it, might have seemed an abandonment of the principles which it contained. The author, therefore, discovering that, with the excep- tion of the introductory letter, he had not in fact kept any clean copy, as he had supposed, corrected one of the pamphlets with his own hand. From this, which was found preserved with his other papers, his friends afterwards thought it their duty to give an authentic edition. The "Thoughts and Details on Scarcity" were originally pre- sented in the form of a memorial to Mr. Pitt. The author pro- K k 2 500 ADVERTISEMENT. posed afterwards to recast the same matter in a new shape. He even advertised the intended work under the title of " Letters on Rural Economics, addressed to Mr. Arthur Young ;" but he seems to have finished only two or three detached fragments of the first letter. These being too imperfect to be printed alone, his friends inserted them in the memorial, where they seemed best to cohere. The memorial had been fairly copied, but did not appear to have been examined or corrected, as some trifling errors of the transcriber were perceptible in it. The manuscript of the frag- ments was a rough draft from the author's own hand, much blotted and very confused. The "Third Letter on the Proposals for Peace" was in its progress through the press when Mr. Burke died. About one half of it was actually revised in print by himself, though not in the exact order of the pages as they now stand. He enlarged his first draft, and separated one great member of his subject, for the purpose of introducing some other matter between. The different parcels of manuscript designed to intervene were discovered. One of them he seemed to have gone over himself, and to have im- proved and augmented. The other (fortunately the smaller) was nmch more imperfect, just as it was taken from his mouth by dicta- tion. No important change, none at all aflfecting the meaning of any passage, has been made in either : though in the more im- perfect parcel some latitude of discretion in subordinate points was necessarily used. There is, however, a considerable number, for the greater part of which Mr. Burke's reputation is not responsible : this is the inquiry into the condition of the higher classes. The summary of the whole topic indeed, nearly as it stands, was found, together with a marginal reference to the bankrupt list, in his own handwriting ; and the actual conclusion of the letter was dictated by him, but never received his subsequent correction. He had also preserved, as materials for this branch of his subject, some scattered hints, documents, and parts of a correspondence on the state of the country. He was, however, prevented from working on them, by the want of some authentic and official information, for which he had been long anxiously waiting; in order to ascertain, to the ADVERTISEMENT. 501 satisfaction of the public, what, with his usual sagacity, he had fully anticipated from his own personal observation, to his own private conviction. At length the reports of the different com- mittees which had been appointed by the two Houses of Parlia- ment, amply furnished him with evidence for this purpose. Accord- ingly he read and considered them with attention; but for any thing beyond this the season was now past. The Supreme Dis- poser of all, against whose inscrutable counsels it is vain as well as impious to murmur, did not permit him to enter on the execution of the task which he meditated. It was resolved, therefore, by one of his friends, after much hesitation and under a very painful responsibility, to make such an attempt as he could at supplying the void ; especially because the insufficiency of our resources for the continuance of the war was understood to have been the prin- cipal objection urged against the two former " Letters on the Proposals for Peace." In performing with reverential diffidence this duty of friendship, care has been taken not to attribute to Mr. Burke any sentiment which is not most explicitly known, from repeated conversations, and from much correspondence, to have been decidedly entertained by that illustrious man. One passage of some length, containing a censure of our defensive system, is borrowed from a private letter, which he began to dictate with an intention of comprising in it the short result of his opinions, but which he afterwards abandoned, when, a little time before his death, his health appeared in some degree to amend, and he hoped that Providence might have spared him to complete the larger public letter, which he then proposed to resume. In the preface to the former edition of this letter, a fourth was mentioned as being in possession of Mr. Burke's friends. It was in fact announced by the author himself, in the conclusion of the second, which it was then designed to follow. He intended, he said, "to proceed next on the question of the facilities possessed by the French republic, from the internal state of other nations, and particularly of this, for obtaining her ends; and, as his notions were controverted, to take notice of what, in that way, had been recommended to him." The vehicle which he had chosen for this part of his plan was an answer to a pamphlet which was supposed to come from high authority, and was circulated by ministers with 502 ADVERTISEMENT. great industry, at the time of its appearance in October, 1795, immediately previous to that session of parliament when his majesty for the first time declared, that the appearance of any disposition in the enemy to negotiate for general peace, should not fail to be met with an earnest desire to give it the fullest and speediest effect. In truth, the answer, which is full of spirit and vivacity, was written in the latter end of the same year ; but was laid aside when the question assumed a more serious aspect, from the commencement of an actual negotiation, which gave rise to the series of printed letters. Afterwards, he began to re-write it, with a view of accommodating it to his new purpose. The greater part, however, still remained in its original state ; and several heroes of the revolution, who are there celebrated, having in the interval passed off the public stage, a greater liberty of insertion and alteration, than his friends on consideration have thought allowable, would be necessary to adapt it to that place in the series for which it was ultimately designed by the author. This piece, therefore, addressed, as the title originally stood, to his noble friend. Earl Fitzwilliam, will be given the first in the supplemental -volumes, which will be hereafter added to complete this edition of the author's works '. INTRODUCTOEY LETTER BY THE BISHOP OF EOCHESTEB, PREFIXED TO THE FIFTH aUARTO VOLUME OF THE WORKS. To the Eight Hon. William Elliot. My dear Sir, As some prefatory account of the materials which compose this Second " posthumous Volume of the Works of Mr. Burke, and of the causes which have prevented its earlier appearance, will be expected from me, I hope I may be indulged in the inclination I feel to run over these matters in a letter to you, rather than in a formal address to the public. Of the delay that has intervened since the publication of the former volume, I shall first say a few words. Having undertaken, in conjunction with the late Dr. Laurence, to examine the manu- script papers of Mr. Burke, and to select and prepare for the press ' This is entire in the Fifth Volume of the present Edition, 1852. ' Fifth and Sixth Volumes of the present Edition. ADVERTISEMENT. 503 such of them as should be thought proper for publication, the difficulties attending our co-operation were soon experienced by us. The remoteness of our places of residence in summer, and our professional and other avocations in winter, opposed perpetual obstacles to the progress of our undertaking. Soon after the publication of the Fourth Volume, I was rendered incapable of attending to any business by a severe and tedious iUness. And it was not long after my recovery before the health of our invaluable friend began gradually to dechne, and soon became unequal to the increasing labours of his profession, and the discharge of his parliamentary duties. At length we lost a man, of whom, as I shall have occasion to speak more particularly in another part of this undertaking, I will now content myself with saying, that in my humble opinion he merited, and certainly obtained with those best acquainted with his extensive learning and information, a consider- able rank amongst the eminent persons who have adorned the age in which we have lived, and of whose services the public have been deprived by a premature death. From these causes little progress had been made in our work when I was deprived of my coadjutor. But from that time you can testify of me that I have not been idle. You can bear witness to the confused state in which the materials that compose the present volume came into my hands. The difficulty of reading many of the manuscripts, obscured by innumerable erasures, corrections, inter- lineations, and marginal insertions, would perhaps have been insuperable to any person less conversant in the manuscripts of Mr. Burke than myself. To this difficulty succeeded that of select- ing from several detached papers written upon the same subject, and the same topics, such as appeared to contain the author's last thoughts and emendations. When these difficulties were overcome, there still remained, in many instances, that of assigning its proper place to many detached members of the same piece, where no direct note of connexion had been made. These circumstances, whilst they will lead the reader not to expect in the cases to which they apply the finished pro- ductions of Mr. Burke, imposed upon me a task of great delicacy and difficulty, namely, that of deciding upon the publication of any, and which of these unfinished pieces. I must here beg permission 504 ADVERTISEMENT. of you, and Lord Fitzwilliam, to inform the public, that in the execution of this part of my duty I requested and obtained your assistance. Our first care was to ascertain from such evidence, internal and external, as the manuscripts themselves afforded, v?hat pieces appeared to have been at any time intended by the author for publication. Our next was, to select such, as though not originally intended for publication, yet appeared to contain matter that might contribute to the gratification and instruction of the public. Our last object was to determine what degree of imperfection and incor- rectness in papers of either of these classes ought, or ought not, to exclude them from a place in the present volume. This was, doubt- less, the most nice and arduous part of our undertaking. The difficulty, however, was, in our minds, greatly diminished by our conviction that the reputation of our author stood far beyond the reach of injury from any injudicious conduct of ours in making this selection. On the other hand, we were desirous that nothing should be withheld, from which the public might derive any possible benefit. Nothing more is now necessary than that I should give a short account of the writings which compose the present volume. I. Fourth Letter on a Regicide Peace *. Some account has already been given of this letter in the adver- tisement to the fourth quarto volume. That part of it which is contained between the first and the middle of the page 67, is taken from a manuscript which, nearly to the conclusion, had received the author's last corrections : the subsequent part, to the middle of the page 71, is taken from some loose manuscripts that were dictated by the author, but do not appear to have been revised by him ; and though they, as well as what follows to the conclusion, were evidently designed to make a part of this letter, the editor alone is responsible for the order in which they are here placed. The last part, from the middle of the page 71, had been printed as a part of the letter which was originally intended to be the third on Regicide Peace, as in the preface to the fourth volume has already been noticed. It was thought proper to communicate this letter before its * This Letter will he fovmd in the Fifth Volume of this Edition. ADVERTISEMENT. 605 publication to Lord Auckland, the author of the pamphlet so frequently alluded to in it. His lordship, in consequence of this communication, was pleased to put into my hands a letter, with which he had sent his pamphlet to Mr. Burke at the time of its publication ; and Mr. Burke's answer to that letter. These pieces, together with the note with which his lordship transmitted them to me, are prefixed to the Letter on Regicide Peace. II. Letter to the Empress of Russia. III. Letter to Sir Charles Bingham. IV. Letter to the Honourable Charles James Fox. Of these Letters it will be sufiBcient to remark, that they come under the second of those classes, into which, as I before observed, we divided the papers that presented themselves to our con- sideration. V. Letter to the Marquis of Rockingham. VI. An Address to the King. VII. An Address to the British Colonists in North America. These pieces relate to a most important period in the present reign ; and I hope no apology will be necessary for giving them to the public. VIII. Letter to the Right Honourable Edmund Pery. IX. Letter to Thomas Burgh, Esq. X. Letter to John Merlott, Esq. The reader will find, in a note annexed to each of these Letters, an account of the occasions on which they were written. The Letter to T. Burgh, Esq., had found its way into some of the periodical prints of the time in Dublin. XL Reflections on the approaching Executions. It may not, perhaps, now be generally known that Mr. Burke was a marked object of the rioters in this disgraceful commotion, from whose fury he narrowly escaped. The Reflections will be found to contain maxims of the soundest judicial policy, and do equal honour to the head and heart of their illustrious writer. XII. Letter to the Right Honourable Henry Dundas ; with the Sketch of a Negro Code. 506 ADVERTISEMENT. Mr. Burke, in the Letter to Mr. Dundas, has entered fully into his own views of the Slave Trade, and has thereby rendered any further explanation on that subject at present unnecessary. With respect to the Code itself, an unsuccessful attempt was made to procure the copy of it transmitted to Mr. Dundas. It was not to be found amongst his papers. The Editor has, therefore, been obliged to have recourse to a rough draught of it in Mr. Burke's own hand- writing ; from ^s^hich he hopes he has succeeded in making a pretty correct transcript of it, as well as in the attempt he has made to supply the marginal references alluded to in Mr. Burke's Letter to Mr. Dundas. XIII. Letter to the Chairman of the Buckinghamshire Meeting. Of the occasion of this Letter an account is given in the note subjoined to it. XIV. Tracts and Letters relative to the Laws against Popery in Ireland. These pieces consist of, 1. An unfinished Tract on the Popery Laws. Of this Tract the reader will find an account in the note prefixed to it. 2. A Letter to William Smith, Esq. Several copies of this letter having got abroad, it was printed and published in Dublin without the permission of Mr. Burke, or of the gentleman to whom it was addressed. S. Second Letter to Sir Hercules Langrishe. This may be considered as supplementary to the first letter, addressed to the same person in January, 1792, which was published in the 3rd volume. 4. Letter to Richard Burke, Esquire. Of this letter it will be necessary to observe that the first part of it appears to have been originally addressed by Mr. Burke to his son in the manner in which it is now printed, but to have been left unfinished ; after whose death he probably designed to have given the substance of it, with additional observations, to the public in some other form ; but never found leisure or inclination to finish it. ADVERTISEMENT. 507 5. A Letter on the Affairs of Ireland, written in the year 1797. The name of the person to whom this letter was addressed does not appear on the manuscript ; nor has the letter been found to which it was written as an answer. And as the gentleman, whom he employed as an amanuensis, is not now living, no discovery of it can be made, unless this pub- lication of the letter should produce some information respecting it, that may enable us in a future volume to gratify, on this point, the curiosity of the reader. The letter was dictated, as he himself tells us, from his couch at Bath; to which place he had gone by the advice of his physicians in March, 1797. His health was now rapidly declining ; the vigour of his mind remained unimpaired. This, my dear friend, was, I beheve, the last letter dictated by him on public affairs : — here ended his political labours. XV. Fragments and Notes of Speeches in Parliament. 1. Speech on the Acts of Uniformity. 2. Speech on the Bill for the Belief of Protestant Dissenters. S. Speech on the Petition of the Unitarians. 4. Speech on the Middlesex Election. 5. Speech on a Bill for shortening the Duration of Parliaments. 6. Speech on the Reform of the Representation in Parliament. 7. Speech on a Bill for explaining the Powers of Juries in Pro- secutions for Libels. *7. Letter relative to the same subject. 8. Speech on a Bill for repealing the Marriage Act. 9. Speech on a Bill to quiet the Possessions of the Subject against dormant Claims of the Church. With respect to these fragments, I have already stated the reasons by which we were influenced in our determination to publish them. An account of the state in which these manu- scripts were found is given in the note prefixed to this article. XVI. Hints for an Essay on the Drama. This fragment was perused in manuscript by a learned and judicious critic, our late lamented friend, Mr. Malone ; and under the protection of his opinion we can feel no hesitation in submitting it to the judgment of the public. 508 ADVERTISEMENT. XVII. We are now come to the concluding article of this volume — the Essay on the History of England. At what time of the author's life it was written cannot now be exactly ascertained; but it was certainly begim before he had attained the age of twenty-seven years, as it appears from an entry in the books of the late Mr. Dodsley, that eight sheets of it, which contain the first seventy-four pages of the present edition ", were printed in the year 1757. This is the only part that has received the finishing stroke of the author. In those who are acquainted with the manner in which Mr. Burke usually composed his graver literary works, and of which some account is given in the adver- tisement prefixed to the fourth volume °, this circumstance will excite deep regret ; and whilst the public partakes with us in this feeling, it will doubtless be led to judge with candour and indul- gence of a work left in this imperfect and unfinished state by its author. Before I conclude, it may not be improper to take this oppor- tunity of acquainting the public with the progress that has been made towards the completion of this undertaking. The sixth and seventh volumes, which will consist entirely of papers that have a relation to the affairs of the East India Company, and to the impeachment of Mr. Hastings, are now in the press. The sus- pension of the consideration of the affairs of the East India Com- pany in parliament, till its next session, has made me very desirous to get the sixth volume out as early as possible in the next winter. The ninth and eleventh Reports of the Select Committee, ap- pointed to take into consideration certain affairs of the East India Company in the year 1783, were written by Mr. Burke, and will be given in that volume. They contain a full and comprehensive view of the commerce, revenues, civil establishment, and general policy of the company ; and will, therefore, be peculiarly interesting at this time to the public. The eighth and last volume will contain a narrative of the life of Mr. Burke, which will be accompanied with such parts of his familiar correspondence, and other occasional productions, as shall be thought fit for publication. The materials relating to the early years of his life, alluded to in the advertisement to the fourth ' Quarto Edition. ' Quarto Edition. ADVERTISEMENT. 509 volume, have been lately recovered; and the communication of such as may still remain in the possession of any private individuals is again most earnestly requested. Unequal as I feel myself to the task, I shall, my dear friend, lose no time, nor spare any pains, in discharging the arduous duty that has devolved upon me. You knovjr the peculiar difficulties I labour under from the failure of my eye-sight ; and you may congratulate me upon the assistance which I have now procured from my neigh- bour, the worthy chaplain ' of Bromley College, who to the useful qualification of a most patient amanuensis adds that of a good scholar and intelligent critic ^ And now, adieu, my dear friend. And believe me ever affectionately yours, Wr. Eoffen. Bromley House, August I, 1812. From the Right Honourable the Lord Auckland to the Lord Bishop of Rochester. Eden Farm, Kent, July 18, 1812. My dear Lord, Mr. Burke's fourth letter to Lord Fitzwilliam is personally inte- resting to me : I have perused it with a respectful attention. When I communicated to Mr. Burke in 1795 the printed work which he arraigns and discusses, I was aware that he would differ from me. Some light is thrown on the transaction by my note which gave rise to it, and by his answer, which exhibits the admirable powers of his great and good mind, deeply suffering at the time under a domestic calamity. I have selected these two papers from my manuscript collection, and now transmit them to your lordship with a wish that they may be annexed to the publication in question. I have the honour to be, my dear lord, Yours most sincerely, Auckland. To the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Rochester. = The Rev. J. .J. Talraan. 510 ADVERTISEMENT. From Lord Auckland to the Bight Honourable Edmund Burke. Eden Farm, Kent, October 28, 1798. My dear Sie, Though in the stormy ocean of the last twenty-three years we have seldom sailed on the same tack, there has been nothing hostile in our signals or manoeuvres ; and, on my part at least, there has been a cordial disposition towards friendly and respectful senti- ments. Under that influence, I now send to you a small work, which exhibits my fair and full opinions on the arduous circum- stances of the moment, " as far as the cautions necessary to be observed will permit me to go beyond general ideas." Three or four of those friends, with whom I am most connected in public and private life, are pleased to think, that the statement in question (which at first made part of a confidential paper) may do good : and accordingly a very large impression will be published to-day. I neither seek to avow the publication, nor do I wish to disavow it. I have no anxiety in that respect, but to contri- bute my mite to do service, at a moment when service is much wanted. I am, my dear sir. Most sincerely yours, Auckland. Right Hon. Edmund Burke. From the Bight Honourable Edmund Burke to Lord Auckland. My dear Loud, I am perfectly sensible of the very flattering honour you have done me in turning any part of yom* attention towards a dejected old man, buried in the anticipated grave of a feeble old age, forgetting, and forgotten, in an obscure and melancholy retreat. In this retreat I have nothing relative to this world to do, but to study all the tranquillity that in the state of my mind I am capable of. To that end I find it but too necessary to call to my aid an oblivion of most of the circumstances, pleasant and un- pleasant, of my life ; to think as little, and indeed to know as little. as I can of every thing that is doing about me ; and, above ADVERTISEMENT. 511 all, to divert my mind from all presagings and prognostications of what I must (if I let my speculations loose) consider as of abso- lute necessity to happen after my death, and possibly even before it. Your address to the public, which you have been so good as to send to me, obliges me to break in upon that plan, and to look a little on what is behind, and very much on what is before me. It creates in my mind a variety of thoughts, and all of them unpleasant. It is true, my lord, what you say, that, through our public life, we have generally sailed on somewhat different tacks. We have so, undoubtedly, and we should do so still, if I had . continued longer to keep the sea. In that difference, you rightly observe, that I have always done justice to your skill and ability as a navi- gator, and to your good intentions towards the safety of the cargo, and of the ship's company. I cannot say now that we are on different tacks. There would be no propriety in the metaphor. I can sail no longer. My vessel cannot be said to be even in port. She is wholly condemned and broken up. To have an idea of that vessel, you must call to mind what you have often seen on the Kentish road. Those planks of tough and hardy oak, that used for years to brave the buffets of the Bay of Biscay, are now turned, with their warped grain, and empty trunnion-holes, into very wretched pales for the enclosure of a wretched farm-yard. The style of your pamphlet, and the eloquence and power of composition you display in it, are such as do great honour to your talents ; and in conveying any other sentiments would give me very great pleasure. Perhaps I do not very perfectly comprehend your purpose, and the drift of your arguments. If I do not — pray do not attribute my mistake to want of candour, but to want of sagacity. I confess your address to the public, together with other accompanying circumstances, has filled me with a degree of grief and dismay, which I cannot find words to express. If the plan of politics there recommended, pray excuse my freedom, should be adopted by the king's councils, and by the good people of this kingdom, (as so recommended undoubtedly it will,) nothing can be the consequence but utter and irretrievable ruin to the ministry, to the crown, to the succession, to the importance, to the 512 ADVERTISEMENT^ feeble, perhaps, but clear, positive, decided, long and maturely- reflected, and frequently declared opinion, from which all the events, which have lately come to pass, so far from turning me, have tended to confirm beyond the power of alteration, even by your eloquence and authority. I find, my dear lord, that you think some persons, who are not satisfied with the securities of a Jacobin peace, to be persons of intemperate minds. I may be, and I fear I am, with you in that description ; but pray, my lord, recollect that very few of the causes, which make men intemperate, can operate upon me. Sanguine hopes, vehement desires, inordinate ambition, implacable animosity, party attachments, or party in- terests ; — all these with me have no existence. For myself, or for a family (alas ! I have none), I have nothing to hope or to fear in this world. I am attached by principle, inclination, and gratitude to the king, and to the present ministry. Perhaps you may think that my animosity to opposition is the cause of my dissent, on seeing the politics of Mr. Fox, (which, while I was in the world, I combatted by every instrument which God had put into my hands, and in every situation in which I had taken part,) so completely, if I at all understand you, adopted in your lordship's book ; but it was with pain I broke with that great man for ever in that cause' — and I assure you, it is not without pain, that I differ with your lordship on the same principles. But it is of no concern. I am far below the region of those great and tempestuous passions. I feel nothing of the intemperance of mind. It is rather sorrow and dejection than anger. Once more my best thanks for your very polite attention ; and do me the favour to believe me, with the most perfect sentiments of respect and regard. My dear lord. Your lordship's most obedient and humble servant, Edmctnd Bueke. Beaconsfield, Oct. 30, 1795. Friday Erening. A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY: OR, A VIEW OF THE MISERIES AND EVILS AEISING TO MANKIND FBOM ETEEY SPECIES OF ARTIFICIAL SOCIETY. IN A LETTER TO LORD • • • •, BY A LATE NOBLE WRITER. 1756. VOL. 1[. PREFACE. Befoee the philosophical works of Lord Bolingbroke had appeared, great things were expected from the leisure of a man, who, from the splendid scene of action in which his talents had enabled him to make so conspicuous a figure, had retired to employ those talents in the investigation of truth. Philosophy began to congratulate herself upon such a proselyte from the world of business, and hoped to have extended her power under the auspices of such a leader. In the midst of these pleasing expectations, the works themselves at last appeared in full hody^ and with great pomp. Those who searched in them for new discoveries in the mysteries of nature ; those who expected something which might explain or direct the operations of the mind ; those who hoped to see morality illustrated and enforced ; those who looked for new helps to society and govern- ment ; those who desired to see the characters and passions of man- kind delineated ; in short, all who consider such things as philosophy, and require some of them at least in every philosophical work, all these were certainly disappointed ; they found the landmarks of science precisely in their former places : and they thought they received but a poor recompense for this disappointment, in seeing every mode of religion attacked in a lively manner, and the founda- tion of every virtue, and of all government, sapped with great art and much ingenuity. What advantage do we derive from such writings \ What delight can a man find in employing a capacity which might be usefully exerted for the noblest purposes, in a sort of sullen labour, in which, if the author could succeed, he is obliged to own, that nothing could be more fatal to mankind than his success ? I cannot conceive how this sort of writers propose to compass the designs they pretend to have in view, by the instruments which they employ. Do they pretend to exalt the mind of man, by prov- ing him no better than a beast ? Do they think to enforce the practice of virtue, by denying that vice and virtue are distinguished by good or ill fortune here, or by happiness or misery hereafter ? Do they imagine they shall increase our piety, and our reliance on L 1 2 516 PREFACE. God, by exploding his providence, and insisting that he is neither just nor good ? Such are the doctrines which, sometimes concealed, sometimes openly and fully avowed, are found to prevail throughout the writings of Lord Bolingbroke ; and such are the reasonings which this noble writer and several others have been pleased to dig- nify with the name of philosophy. If these are delivered in a specious manner, and in a style above the common, they cannot want a number of admirers of as much docility as can be wished for in disciples. To these the editor of the following little piece has addressed it : there is no reason to conceal the design of it any longer. The design was to show that, without the exertion of any con- siderable forces, the same engines which were employed for the destruction of religion, might be employed with equal success for the subversion of government ; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of every thing else, will never permit to be questioned. It is an observation which I think Isocrates makes in one of his orations against the sophists, that it is far more easy to maintain a wrong cause, and to support paradoxical opinions to the satisfaction of a common auditory, than to establish a doubtful truth by solid and conclusive arguments. When men find that something can be said in favour of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason ; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise ; they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and unpromising. This is the fairy land of philoso- phy. And it very frequently happens, that those pleasing impres- sions on the imagination subsist and produce their effect, even after the understanding has been satisfied of their unsubstantial nature. There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober aspect of truth. I have met with a quotation in Lord Coke's Reports that pleased me very much, though I do not know from whence he has taken it: '■'• Interdum fucata falsitas (says he), in multis est prohahiliar, et scepe rationibus vincit nudam veritatem.'''' In such cases the writer has a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that, let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of applause ; and this alacrity becomes much greater if he acts upon the offensive, by the impetuosity that always accompanies an attack, and the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to the finding and exaggerating faults. The editor is satisfied that a mind which has no restraint from a sense of its own weakness, of its subordinate rank in the creation, and of PEEP ACE. 517 the extreme danger of letting the imagination loose upon some sub- jects, may very plausibly attack every thing the most excellent and venerable ; that it would not be difficult to criticise the creation itself; and that if we were to examine the divine fabrics by our ideas of reason and fitness, and to use the same method of attack by which some men have assaulted revealed religion, we might with as good colour, and with the same success, make the wisdom and power of God in his creation appear to many no better than foolish- ness. There is an air of plausibility which accompanies vulgar reasonings and notions, taken from the beaten circle of ordinary ex- perience, that is admirably suited to the narrow capacities of some, and to the laziness of others. But this advantage is in a great measure lost, when a painful, comprehensive survey of a very com- plicated matter, and which requires a great variety of considerations, is to be made ; when we must seek in a profound subject, not only for arguments, but for new materials of argument, their measures and their method of arrangement ; when we must go out of the sphere of our ordinary ideas, and when we can never walk surely, but by being sensible of our blindness. And this we must do, or we do nothing, whenever we examine the result of a reason which is not our own. Even in matters which are, as it were, just within our reach, what would become of the world, if the practice of all moral duties, and the foundations of society, rested upon having their reasons made clear and demonstrative to every individual ? The editor knows that the subject of this letter is not so fully handled as obviously it might ; it was not his design to say all that could possibly be said. It had been inexcusable to fill a large volume with the abuse of reason ; nor would such an abuse have been tolerable, even for a few pages, if some under-plot, of more consequence than the apparent design, had not been carried on. Some persons have thought that the advantages of the state of nature ought to have been more fully displayed. This had un- doubtedly been a very ample subject for declamation ; but they do not consider the character of the piece. The writers against religion, whilst they oppose every system, are wisely careful never to set up any of their own. If some inaccuracies in calculation, in reasoning, or in method, be found, perhaps these will not be looked upon as faults by the admirers of Lord Bolingbroke ; who will, the editor is afraid, observe much more of his lordship''s character in such particulars of the following letter, than they are likely to find of that rapid torrent of an impetuous and overbearing eloquence, and the variety of rich imagery for which that writer is justly ad- mired. A LETTER TO LOED ****. Shall I venture to say, my lord, that in our late conversation, you were inclined to the party which you adopted rather by the feelings of your good nature, than by the conviction of your judgment? We laid open the foundations of society ; and you feared that the curiosity of this search might endanger the ruin of the whole fabric. You would readily have allowed my principle, but you dreaded the consequences ; you thought, that having once entered upon these reasonings, we might be carried insensibly and irresistibly farther than at first we could either have imagined or wished. But for my part, my lord, I then thought, and am stiU of the same opinion, that error, and not truth of any kind, is dangerous ; that iU conclusions can only flow from false propositions ; and that, to know whether any proposition be true or false, it is a preposterous method to examine it by its apparent consequences. These were the reasons which induced me to go so far into that inquiry ; and they are the reasons which direct me in all my in- quiries. I had indeed often reflected on that subject before I could prevail on myself to communicate my reflections to any body. They were generally melancholy enough ; as those usually are which carry us beyond the mere surface of things ; and which would undoubtedly make the lives of all thinking men extremely miserable, if the same philosophy which caused the grief, did not at the same time admi- nister the comfort. On considering political societies, their origin, their constitution, and their effects, I have sometimes been in a good deal more than doubt, whether the Creator did ever really intend man for a state of happiness. He has mixed in his cup a number of natural evils, (in spite of the boasts of stoicism they are evils,) and every endeavour 520 A VINDICATION OF which the art and policy of mankind has used from the beginning of the world to this day, in order to alleviate or cure thencyh^i^jBly served to introduce new mischiefs, or to aggravate and inflame the old. Besides this, the mind of man itself is too active and restless a principle ever to settle on the true point of quiet. It discovers every day some craving want in a body, which really wants but little. It every day invents some new artificial rule to guide that nature which, if left to itself, were the best and surest guide. It finds out imaginary beings prescribing imaginary laws ; and then, it raises imaginary terrors to support a belief in the beings, and an obedience to the laws. — Many things have been said, and very well undoubtedly, on the subjection in which we should preserve our bodies to the government of our understanding ; but enough has not been said upon the restraint which our bodily necessities ought to lay on the extravagant sublimities and eccentric rovings of our minds. The body, or as some love to call it, our inferior nature, is wiser in its own plain way, and attends its own business more directly than the mind with all its boasted subtlety. In the state of nature, without question, mankind was subjected to many and great inconveniences. Want of union, want of mutual assistance, want of a common arbitrator to resort to in their differ- ences. These were evils which they could not but have felt pretty severely on many occasions. The original children of the earth lived with their brethren of the other kinds in much equality. Their diet must have been confined almost wholly to the vegetable kind ; and the same tree, which in its flourishing state produced them berries, in its decay gave them an habitation. The mutual desires of the sexes uniting their bodies and afiections, and the children which are the results of these intercourses, introduced first the notion of society, and taught its conveniences. This society, founded in natural appetites and instincts, and not in any positive institution, I shall call natural society. Thus far nature went and succeeded: but man would go farther. The great error of our nature is, not to know where to stop, not to be satisfied with any reasonable acquirement ; not to compound with our condition ; but to lose all we have gained by an insatiable pursuit after more. Man found a considerable advantage by this union of many persons to form one family ; he therefore judged that he would find his account proportionably in an union of many families into one body politic. And as nature has formed no bond of union to hold them together, he supplied this defect by laws. This is political society/. And hence the sources of what are usually called states, civil societies, or governments ; into some form of which, more extended or restrained, all mankind have gradually NATURAL SOCIETV. 521 fallen. And since it has so happened, and that we owe an implicit reverence to all the institutions of our ancestors, we shall consider these institutions with all that modesty with which we ought to conduct ourselves in examining a received opinion ; but with all that freedom and candour which we owe to truth wherever we find it, or however it may contradict our own notions, or oppose our own interests. There is a most absurd and audacious method of reason- ing avowed by some bigots and enthusiasts, and through fear assented to by some wiser and better men ; it is this : they argue against a fair discussion of popular prejudices, because, say they, though they would be found without any reasonable support, yet the discovery might be productive of the most dangerous consequences. Absurd and blasphemous notion ! as if all happiness was not con- nected with the practice of virtue, which necessarily depends upon the knowledge of truth ; that is, upon the knowledge of those unalterable relations which Providence has ordained that every thing should bear to every other. These relations, which are truth itself, the foundation of virtue, and consequently the only measures of hap- piness, should be likewise the only measures by which we should direct our reasoning. To these we should conform in good earnest ; and not think to force nature, and the whole order of her system, by a compliance with our pride and folly, to conform to our artificial regulations. It is by a conformity to this method we owe the dis- covery of a few truths we know, and the little liberty and rational happiness we enjoy. We have something fairer play than a reasoner could have expected formerly ; and we derive advantages from it which are very visible. The fabric of superstition has in this our age and nation received much ruder shocks than it had ever felt before ; and, through the chinks and breaches of our prison, we see such glimmerings of light, and feel such refreshing airs of liberty, as daily raise our ardour for more. The miseries derived to mankind from superstition under the name of religion, and of ecclesiastical tyranny under the name of church government, have been clearly and usefully exposed. We begin to think and to act from reason and from nature alone. This is true of several, but by far the majority is stiU in the same old state of blindness and slavery ; and much is it to be feared that we shall perpetually relapse, whilst the real productive cause of all this superstitious folly, enthusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny, holds a reverend place in the estimation even of those who are otherwise enlightened. Civil government borrows a strength from ecclesiastical ; and artificial laws receive a sanction from artificial revelations. The ideas of religion and government are closely connected ; and whilst 522 A VINDICATION OF we receive government as a thing necessary, or even useful to our well-being, we shall in spite of us draw in, as a necessary, though undesirable consequence, an artificial religion of some kind or other. To this the vulgar will always be voluntary slaves ; and even those of a rank of understanding superior, will now and then involuntarily feel its influence. It is therefore of the deepest concernment to us to be set right in this point ; and to be well satisfied whether civil government be such a protector from natural evils, and such a nurse and increaser of blessings, as those of warm imaginations promise. In such a discussion, far am I from proposing in the least to reflect on our most wise form of government ; no more than I would, in the freer parts of my philosophical writings, mean to object to the piety, truth, and perfection of our most excellent church. Both I am sensible have their foundations on a rock. No discovery of truth can prejudice them. On the contrary, the more closely the origin of religion and government is examined, the more clearly their excellences must appear. They come purified from the fire. My business is not with them. Having entered a protest against all objections from these quarters, I may the more freely inquire, from history and experience, how far policy has contributed in all times to alleviate those evils which Providence, that perhaps has designed us for a state of imperfection, has imposed ; how far our physical skill has cured our constitutional disorders ; and whether it may not have introduced new ones, curable perhaps by no skiU. In looking over any state to form a judgment on it, it presents itself in two lights ; the external, and the internal. The first, that relation which it bears in point of friendship or enmity to other states. The second, that relation which its component parts, the governing and the governed, bear to each other. The first part of the external view of all states, their relation as friends, makes so trifling a figure in history, that I am very sorry to say, it affords me but little matter on which to expatiate. The good offices done by one nation to its neighbour'; the support given in public distress; the relief afforded in general calamity ; the protection granted in emergent danger ; the mutual return of kindness and civiKty, would aiford a very ample and very pleasing subject for history. But, alas ! all the history of all times, concerning all nations, does not afibrd matter enough to fill ten pages, though it should be spun out by the wire-drawing amplification of a Guicciardini himself. The glaring side is that of enmity. War is the matter which fills all ' Had his lordship lived to our days, to have seen the noble relief given by this nation to the distressed Portuguese, he had perhaps owned this part of his argument a little wealiened ; but we do not thinli ourselves entitled to alter his lordship's words, but that we are bound to follow him exactly. NATURAL SOCIETY. 623 history, and consequently the only or almost the only view in which we can see the external of political society is in a hostile shape ; and the only actions to which we have always seen, and see all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of one another. " War," says Machiavel, " ought to be the only study of a prince ;" and by a prince, he means every sort of state, however constituted. " He ought," says this great pohtical doctor, " to consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes ability to execute military plans." A meditation on the conduct of political societies made old Hobbes imagine, that war was the state of nature ; and truly, if a man judged of the individuals of our race by their conduct when united and packed into nations and kingdoms, he might imagine that every sort of virtue was unnatural and foreign to the mind of man. The first accounts we have of mankind are but so many accounts of their butcheries. All empires have been cemented in blood ; and, in those early periods, when the race of mankind began first to form themselves into parties and combinations, the first effect of the combination, and indeed the end for which it seems pur- posely formed, and best calculated, was their mutual destruction. All ancient history is dark and uncertain. One thing, however, is clear, — there were conquerors, and conquests in those days ; and, consequently, all that devastation by which they are formed, and all that oppression by which they are maintained. We know little of Sesostris, but that he led out of Egypt an army of above 700,000 men ; that he overran the Mediterranean coast as far as Oolchis ; that in some places he met but little resistance, and of course shed not a great deal of blood ; but that he found in others a people who knew the value of their liberties, and sold them dear. Whoever bonsiders the army this conqueror headed, the space he traversed, and the opposition he frequently met with, the natural accidents of sickness, and the dearth and badness of provision to which he must have been subject in the variety of climates and countries his march lay through, if he knows any thing, he must know that even the conqueror's army must have suffered greatly; and that of this immense number but a very small part could have returned to enjoy the plunder accumulated by the loss of so many of their companions, and the devastation of so considerable a part of the world. Considering, I say, the vast army headed by this conqueror, whose unwieldy weight was almost alone sufficient to wear down its strength, it wiU be far from excess to suppose that one-half was lost in the expedition. If this was the state of the victorious, and from the circumstances it must have been this at the least ; the vanquished must have had 524 A VINDICATION OF a much heavier loss, as the greatest slaughter is always in the flight, and great carnage did in those times and countries ever attend the first rage of conquest. It vyill, therefore, be very rea- sonable to allow on their account as much as, added to the losses of the conqueror, may amount to a million of deaths, and then we shall see this conqueror, the oldest we have on the records of history, (though, as we have observed before, the chronology of these remote times is extremely uncertain,) opening the scene by a destruction of at least one million of his species, unprovoked but by his ambition, without any motives but pride, cruelty, and mad- ness, and without any benefit to himself (for Justin expressly tells us he did not maintain his conquests), but solely to make so many people, in so distant countries, feel experimentally how severe a scourge Providence intends for the human race, when he gives one man the power over many, and arms his naturally impotent and feeble rage with the hands of millions, who know no common principle of action, but a blind obedience to the passions of their ruler. The next personage who figures in the tragedies of this ancient theatre is Semiramis ; for we have no particulars of Ninus, but that he made immense and rapid conquests, which doubtless were not compassed without the usual carnage. We see an army of about three millions employed by this martial queen in a war against the Indians. We see the Indians arming a yet greater ; and we behold a war continued with much fury, and with various success. This ends in the retreat of the queen, with scarce a third of the troops employed in the expedition ; an expedition which, at this rate, must have cost two millions of souls on her part ; and it is not unreasonable to judge that the country which was the seat of war must have been an equal sufferer. But I am content to detract from this, and to suppose that the Indians lost only half so much, and then the account stands thus : in this war alone (for Semiramis had other wars) in this single reign, and in this one spot of the globe did three millions of souls expire, with all the horrid and shocking circumstances which attend all wars, and in a quarrel, in which none of the sufferers could have the least rational concern. The Babylonian, Assyrian, Median, and Persian monarchies must have poured out seas of blood in their formation, and in their destruction. The armies and fleets of Xerxes, their numbers, the glorious stand made against them, and the unfortunate event of all his mighty preparations, are known to every body. In this expedi- tion, draining half Asia of its inhabitants, he led an army of about two millions to be slaughtered, and wasted by a thousand fatal NATURAL SOCIETY. 525 accidents, in the same place where his predecessors had before by a similar madness consumed the flower of so many kingdoms, and wasted the force of so extensive an empire. It is a cheap calculation to say, that the Persian empire, in its wars against the Greeks and Scythians, threw away at least four millions of its subjects ; to say nothing of its other wars, and the losses sustained in them. These were their losses abroad ; but the war was brought home to them, first by Agesilaus, and afterwards by Alexander. I have not, in this retreat, the books necessary to make very exact calculations ; nor is it necessary to give more than hints to one of your lordship's erudition. You will recollect his uninterrupted series of success. You will run over his battles. You will call to mind the carnage which was made. You will give a glance at the whole, and you will agree with me, that to form this hero no less than twelve hundred thousand lives must have been sacrificed ; but no sooner had he fallen himself a sacrifice to his vices, than a thousand breaches were made for ruin to enter, and give the last hand to this scene of misery and destruction. His kingdom was rent and divided ; which served to employ the more distinct parts to tear each other to pieces, and bury the whole in blood and slaughter. The kings of Syria and of Egypt, the kings of Per- gamus and Macedon, without intermission worried each other for above two hundred years ; until at last a strong power, arising in the west, rushed in upon them and silenced their tumults, by involving all the contending parties in the same destruction. It is little to say, that the contentions between the successors of Alexander depopulated that part of the world of at least two millions. The struggle between the Macedonians and Greeks, and, before that, the disputes of the Greek commonwealths among themselves, for an unprofitable superiority, form one of the bloodiest scenes in history. One is astonished how such a small spot could furnish men suflicient to sacrifice to the pitiful ambition of possessing five or six thousand more acres, or two or three more villages ; yet to see the acrimony and bitterness with which this was disputed between the Athenians and Lacedemonians; what armies cut off; what fleets sunk and burnt ; what a number of cities sacked, and their inhabitants slaughtered and captived ; one would be induced to believe the decision of the fate of mankind, at least, depended upon it ! But these disputes ended as all such ever have done, and ever will do ; in a real weakness of all parties ; a momentary shadow, and dream of power in some one ; and the subjection of all to the yoke of a stranger, who knows how to profit of their divisions. This, at least, was the case of the Greeks ; and surely. 526 A VINDICATION OF from the earliest accounts of them, to their absorption into the Roman empire, we cannot judge that their intestine divisions, and their foreign wars, consumed less than three millions of their inhabitants. What an Aceldama, what a field of blood Sicily has been in ancient times, whilst the mode of its government was controverted between the republican and tyrannical parties, and the possession struggled for by the natives, the Greeks, the Carthaginians, and the Romans, your lordship will easily recollect. You will remember the total destruction of such bodies as an army of 300,000 men. You will find every page of its history dyed in blood, and blotted and confounded by tumults, rebellions, massacres, assassinations, proscriptions, and a series of horror beyond the histories perhaps of any other nation in the world; though the histories of all nations are made up of similar matter. I once more excuse myself in point of exactness for want of books. But I shall estimate the slaughters in this island but at two miUions ; which your lordship will find much short of the reality. Let us pass by the wars, and the consequences of them, which wasted Grecia-Magna, before the Roman power prevailed in that part of Italy. They are perhaps exaggerated ; therefore I shall only rate them at one million. Let us hasten to open that great scene which establishes the Roman empire, and forms the grand catastrophe of the ancient drama. This empire, whilst in its in- fancy, began by an efiusion of human blood scarcely credible. The neighbouring little states teemed for new destruction : the Sabines, the Samnites, the ^qui, the Volci, the Hetrurians, were broken by a series of slaughters which had no interruption, for some hun- dreds of years ; slaughters which upon all sides consumed more than two millions of the wretched people. The Gauls, rushing into Italy about this time, added the total destruction of their own armies to those of the ancient inhabitants. In short, it were hardly possible to conceive a more horrid and bloody picture, if that the Punic wars that ensued soon after did not present one that far exceeds it. Here we find that climax of devastation and ruin, which seemed to shake the whole earth. The extent of this war, which vexed so many nations, and both elements, and the havoc of the human species caused in both, really astonishes beyond expression, when it is nakedly considered, and those matters which are apt to divert our attention from it, the characters, actions, and designs of the persons concerned, are not taken into the account. These wars, I mean those called the Punic wars, could not have stood the human race in less than three millions of the species. And yet this forms but a part only, and a very small part, of the NATURAL SOCIETY. 527 havoc caused by the Eoman ambition. The war with Mithridates was very little less bloody; that prince cut off at one stroke 150,000 Romans by a massacre. In that war Sylla destroyed 300,000 men at Oheronea. He defeated Mithridates' army under Dorilaus, and slew 800,000. This great and unfortunate prince lost another 300,000 before Cyzicum. In the course of the war he had innumerable other losses ; and having many intervals of suc- cess, he revenged them severely. He was at last totally over- thrown ; and he crushed to pieces the king of Armenia his ally by the greatness of his ruin. All who had connexions with him shared the same fate. The merciless genius of Sylla had its full scope ; and the streets of Athens were not the only ones which ran with blood. At this period, the sword, glutted with foreign slaughter, turned its edge upon the bowels of the Roman repubhc itself ; and presented a scene of cruelties and treasons enough almost to obli- terate the memory of all the external devastations. I intended, my lord, to have proceeded in a sort of method in estimating the numbers of mankind cut off in these wars which we have on record. But I am obhged to alter my design. Such a tragical uniformity of havoc and murder would disgust your lordship as much as it would me ; and I confess I already feel my eyes ache by keeping them so long intent on so bloody a prospect. I shall observe little on the Servile, the Social, the Gallic, and Spanish wars ; nor upon those with Jugurtha, nor Antiochus, nor many others equally important, and carried on with equal fury. The butcheries of Julius Csesar alone are calculated by somebody else ; the num- bers he has been the means of destroying have been reckoned at 1,200,000. But to give your lordship an idea that may serve as a standard, by which to measure, in some degree, the others ; you will turn your eyes on Judea ; a very inconsiderable spot of the earth in itself, though ennobled by the singular events which had their rise in that country. This spot happened, it matters not here by what means, to become at several times extremely populous, and to supply men for slaughters scarcely credible, if other well-known and well- attested ones had not given them a colour. The first settling of the Jews here was attended by an almost entire extirpation of all the former inhabitants. Their own civil wars, and those with their petty neighbours, consumed vast multitudes almost every year for several centuries ; and the irruptions of the kings of Babylon and Assyria made immense ravages. Yet we have their history but partially, in an indistinct confused manner ; so that I shall only throw the strong point of light upon that part which coincides with Roman history, and of that part only on the point of time when 528 A VINDICATION OF they received the great and final stroke which made them no more a nation ; a stroke which is allowed to have cut ofi' little less than two millions of that people. I say nothing of the loppings made from that stock whilst it stood ; nor from the suckers that grew out of the old root ever since. But if, in this inconsiderable part of the globe, such a carnage has been made in two or three short reigns, and that this great carnage, great as it is, makes but a minute part of what the histories of that people inform us they suffered; what ghall we judge of countries more extended, and which have waged wars by far more considerable ? Instances of this sort compose the uniform of history. But there have been periods when no less than universal destruction to the race of mankind seems to have been threatened. Such was that when the Goths, the Vandals, and the Huns, poured into Gaul, Italy, Spain, Greece, and Africa, carrying destruction before them as they advanced, and leaving horrid deserts every way behind them. Vasftum ubique sUenfium, secreti colles ; fumantia procul tecta ; nemo exploraioribus oivius, is what Tacitus calls fades mctoricB. It is always so ; but was here emphatically so. From the north proceeded the swarms of Goths, Vandals, Huns, Ostrogoths, who ran towards the south, into Africa itself, which suffered as all to the north had done. About this time, another torrent of barbarians, animated by the same fury, and encouraged by the same success, poured out of the south, and ravaged all to the north-east and west, to the remotest parts of Persia on one hand, and to the banks of the Loire or further on the other; destroying all the proud and curious monuments of human art, that not even the memory might seem to survive of the former inhabitants. What has been done since, and what will continue to be done while the same inducements to war continue, I shall not dwell upon. I shall only in one word mention the horrid effects of bigotry and avarice, in the conquest of Spanish America; a conquest, on a low estimation, effected by the murder of ten millions of the species. I shall draw to a conclusion of this part, by making a general calculation of the whole. I think I have actually mentioned above thirty-six millions. I have not par- ticularized any more. I don't pretend to exactness ; therefore, for the sake of a general view, I shall lay together all those actually slain in battles, or who have perished in a no less miseralDle manner by the other destructive consequences of war from the beginning of the world to this day, in the four parts of it, at a thousand times as much ; no exaggerated calculation, allowing for time and extent. We have not perhaps spoke of the five-hundredth part ; I am sure I have not of what is actually NATURAL SOCIETY. 529 ascertained in history ; but how much of these butcheries are only expressed in generals, what part of time history has never reached, and what vast spaces of the habitable globe it has not embraced, I need not mention to your lordship. I need not enlarge on those torrents of silent and inglorious blood which have glutted the thirsty sands of Afric, or discoloured the polar snow, or fed the savage forests of America for so many ages of continual war. Shall I, to justify my calculations from the charge of extravagance, add to the account those skirmishes which happen in all wars, without being singly of sufficient dignity in mischief, to merit a place in history, but which by their frequency compensate for this comparative innocence ; shall I infiame the account by those general massacres which have devoured whole cities and nations ; those wasting pestilences, those consuming famines, and all those, furies that follow in the train of war ? I have no need to exaggerate ; and I have purposely avoided a parade of eloquence on this occasion. I should despise it upon any occasion ; else in mentioning these slaughters, it is obvious how much the whole might be heightened, by an affecting description of the horrors that attend the wasting of kingdoms, and sacking of cities. But I do not write to the vulgar, nor to that which only governs the vulgar, their passions. I go upon a naked and moderate calcula- tion, just enough, without a pedantical exactness, to give your lordship some feeling of the effects of political society. I charge the whole of these effects on political society. I avow the charge, and I shall presently make it good to your lordship's satisfaction. The numbers I particularized are about thirty-six millions. Be- sides those killed in battles I have said something, not half what the matter would have justified, but something I have said con- cerning the consequences of war even more dreadful than that monstrous carnage itself which shocks our humanity, and almost staggers our belief. So that, allowing me in my exuberance one way for my deficiencies in the other, you will find me not unreasonable. I think the numbers of men now upon earth are computed at five hundred millions at the most. Here the slaughter of mankind, on what you will call a small calculation, amounts to upwards of seventy times the number of souls this day on the globe : a point which may furnish matter of reflection to one less inclined to draw consequences than your lordship. I now come to show that political society is justly chargeable with much the greatest part of this destruction of the species. To give the fairest play to every side of the question, I will own that there is a haughtiness and fierceness in human nature, which will cause innumerable broils, place men in what situation you VOL. i:. M m 530 A VINDICATION OF please ; but owning this, I still insist in charging it to political regulations, that these broils are so frequent, so cruel, and attended with consequences so deplorable. In a state of nature, it had been impossible to find a number of men, sufficient for such slaughters, agreed in the same bloody purpose ; or allowing that they might have come to such an agreement (an impossible supposition), yet the means that simple nature has supplied them with, are by no means adequate to such an end ; many scratches, many bruises undoubtedly would be received upon all hands ; but only a few, a very few deaths. Society and politics, which have given us these destructive views, have given us also the means of satisfying them. From the earliest dawnings of policy to this day, the invention of men has been sharpening and improving the mystery of murder, from the first rude essays of clubs and stones, to the present perfection of gunnery, cannoneering, bom- barding, mining, and all those species of artificial, learned, and refined cruelty, in which we are now so expert, and which make a principal part of what politicians have taught us to believe is our principal glory. How far mere nature would have carried us, we may judge by the example 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 incontestable truth that there is more havoc made in one year by men of men, than has been made by all the lions, tigers, 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, and have a much greater proportion of rage and fury in their composition than we have. But with respect to you, ye legislators, ye civilizers of mankind ! ye Orpheuses, Moseses, Minoses, Solons, Theseuses, Lycurguses, Numas ! with respect to you be it spoken, your regulations 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 ! These evils are not accidental. Whoever will take the pains to consider the nature of society will find that they result directly from its constitution. For as subordination, or, in other words, the reciprocation of tyranny and slavery, is requisite to support these societies ; the interest, the ambition, the malice, or the revenge, nay, even the whim and caprice of one ruling man among them, is enough to arm all the rest, without any private views of their own, to the worst and blackest purposes : and what is at once lamentable, and ridiculous, these wretches engage under NATURAL SOCIETY. 531 those banners with a fury greater than if they were animated by revenge for their own proper wrongs. It is no less worth observing, that this artificial division of man- kind into separate societies is a perpetual source in itself of hatred and dissension among them. The names which distinguish them are enough to blow up hatred and rage. Examine history ; consult present experience ; and you will find that far the greater part of the quarrels between several nations had scarce any other occasion than that these nations were different combinations of people, and called by different names: to an Englishman, the name of a Frenchman, a Spaniard, an Italian, much more a Turk, or a Tartar, raises of course ideas of hatred and contempt. If you would inspire this compatriot of ours with pity or regard for one of these, would you not hide that distinction ? You would not pray him to compassionate the poor Frenchman, or the unhappy German. Far from it; you vf ould speak o{ him as a. foreiffner ; an accident to which all are liable. You would represent him as a man ; one partaking with us of the same common nature, and subject to the same law. There is something so averse from our nature in these artificial political distinctions, that we need no other trumpet to kindle us to war and destruction. But there is something so benign and healing in the general voice of humanity, that, maugre all our regulations to prevent it, the simple name of man applied properly, never fails to work a salutary effect. This natural unpremeditated effect of policy on the unpossessed passions of mankind appears on other occasions. The very name of a politician, a statesman, is sure to cause terror and hatred ; it has always connected with it the ideas of treachery, cruelty, fraud, and tyranny ; and those writers who have faithfully unveiled the mysteries of state-freemasonry, have ever been held in general detestation, for even knowing so perfectly a theory so detestable. The case of Machiavel seems at first sight something hard in that respect. He is obliged to bear the iniquities of those whose maxims and rules of government he published. His speculation is more abhorred than their practice. But if there were no other arguments against artificial society than this I d,m going to mention, methinks it ought to fall by this one only. All writers on the science of policy are agreed, and they agree with experience, that all governments must frequently infringe the rules of justice to support themselves ; that truth must give way to dissimulation ; honesty to convenience ; and humanity itself to the reigning interest. The whole of this mystery of iniquity is called the reason of state. It is a reason which I own I cannot penetrate. What sort of a protection is this of the M m 2 532 A VINDICATION OF general right, that is maintained by infringing the rights of parti- culars ? What sort of justice is this, which is enforced by breaches of its own laws ? These paradoxes I leave to be solved by the able heads of legislators and politicians. For my part, I say what a plain man would say on such an occasion. I can never believe that any institution, agreeable to nature, and proper for mankind, could find it necessary, or even expedient, in any case whatsoever, to do what the best and worthiest instincts of mankind warn us to avoid. But no wonder, that what is set up in opposition to the state of nature should preserve itself by trampling upon the law of nature. To prove that these sorts of policed societies are a violation offered to nature, and a constraint upon the human mind, it needs only to look upon the sanguinary measures, and instruments of violence, which are every where used to support them. Let us take a review of the dungeons, whips, chains, racks, gibbets, with which every society is abundantly stored ; by which hundreds of victims are annually offered up to support a dozen or two in pride and madness, and millions in an abject servitude and dependence. There was a time when I looked with a reverential awe on these mysteries of policy ; but age, experience, and philosophy, have rent the veil ; and I view this sanctum sanctorum, at least, without any enthusiastic admiration. I acknowledge, indeed, the necessity of such a proceeding in such institutions ; but I must have a very mean opinion of institutions where such proceedings are necessary. It is a misfortune that in no part of the globe natural liberty and natural religion are to be found pure, and free from the mixture of political adulterations. Yet we have implanted in us by Providence, ideas, axioms, rules, of what is pious, just, fair, honest, which no political craft, nor learned sophistry, can entirely expel from our breasts. By these we judge, and we cannot other- wise judge, of the several artificial modes of religion and society, and determine of them as they approach to or recede from this standard. The simplest form of government is despotism, where all the inferior orbs of power are moved merely by the will of the Supreme, and all that are subjected to them directed in the same manner, merely by the occasional will of the magistrate. This form, as it is the most simple, so it is infinitely the most general. Scarcely any part of the world is exempted from its power. And in those few places where men enjoy what they call liberty, it is continually in a tottering situation, and makes greater and greater strides to that gulf of despotism which at last swallows up every species of government. The manner of ruUng being directed merely by the NATURAL SOCIETY. 533 will of the weakest, and generally the worst man in the society, becomes the most foolish and capricious thing, at the same time that it is the most terrible and destructive that well can be con- ceived. In a despotism, the principal person finds that, let the want, misery, and indigence of his subjects be what they will, he, can yet possess abundantly of every thing to gratify his most insatiable wishes. He does more. He finds that these gratifica- tions increase in proportion to the wretchedness and slavery of his subjects. Thus encouraged both by passion and interest to trample on the public welfare, and by his station placed above both shame and fear, he proceeds to the most horrid and shocking outrages upon mankind. Their persons become victims of his sus- picions. The shghtest displeasure is death; and a disagreeable aspect is often as great a crime as high treason. In the court of Nero, a person of learning, of unquestioned merit, and of unsus- pected loyalty, was put to death for no other reason, than that he had a pedantic countenance which displeased the emperor. This very monster of mankind appeared in the beginning of his reign to be a person of virtue. Many of the greatest tyrants on the records of history have begun their reigns in the fairest manner. But the truth is, this unnatural power corrupts both the heart and the understanding. And to prevent the least hope of amendment, a king is ever surrounded by a crowd of infamous flatterers, who find their account in keeping him from the least light of reason, till all ideas of rectitude and justice are utterly erased from his mind. When Alexander had in his fury inhumanly butchered one of his best friends and bravest captains ; on the return of reason he began to conceive an horror suitable to the guilt of such a murder. In this juncture his council came to his assistance. But what did his council? They found him out a philosopher who gave him comfort. And in what manner did this philosopher comfort him for the loss of such a man, and heal his conscience, flagrant with the smart of such a crime ? You have the matter at length in Plutarch. He told him, " that let a sovereign do what he will, all his actions are just and lawful, because they are his." The palaces of all princes abound with such courtly philosophers. The conse- quence was such as might be expected. He grew every day a monster more abandoned to unnatural lust, to debauchery, to drunkenness, and to murder. And yet this was originally a great man, of uncommon capacity, and a strong propensity to virtue. But unbounded power proceeds step by step, until it has eradicated every laudable principle. It has been remarked, that there is no prince so bad, whose favourites and ministers are not worse. There is hardly any prince without a favourite, by whom he is 534 A VINDICATION OF governed in as arbitrary a manner as he governs the wretches subjected to him. Here the tyranny is doubled. There are two courts, and two interests ; both very different from the interests of the people. The favourite knows that the regard of a tyrant is as unconstant and capricious as that of a woman ; and concluding his time to be short, he makes haste to fill up the measure of his iniquity, in rapine, in luxury, and in revenge. Every avenue to the throne is shut up. He oppresses and ruins the people, whilst he persuades the prince that those murmurs raised by his own oppres- sion are the effects of disaffection to the prince's government. Then is the natural violence of despotism inflamed and aggravated by hatred and revenge. To deserve well of the state is a crime against the prince. To be popular, and to be a traitor, are consi- dered as synonymous terms. Even virtue is dangerous, as an aspiring quality, that claims an esteem by itself, and independent of the countenance of the court. What has been said of the chief, is true of the inferior officers of this species of government ; each in his province exercising the same tyranny, and grinding the people by an oppression, the more severely felt, as it is near them, and exercised by base and subordinate persons. For the gross of the people, they are considered as a mere herd of cattle ; and really in a little time become no better; all principle of honest pride, all sense of the dignity of their nature, is lost in their slavery. The day, says Homer, which makes a man a slave, takes away half his worth ; and, in fact, he loses every impulse to action, but that low and base one of fear. — In this kind of government human nature is not only abused and insulted, but it is actually degraded and sunk into a species of brutality. The consideration of this made Mr. Locke say, with great justice, that a government of this kind was worse than anarchy ; indeed it is so abhorred and detested by all who live under forms that have a milder appearance, that there is scarcely a rational man in Europe that would not prefer death to Asiatic despotism. Here then we have the acknowledgment of a great philosopher, that an irregular state of nature is preferable to such a government ; we have the consent of all sensible and generous men, who carry it yet further, and avow that death itself is preferable ; and yet this species of govern- ment, so justly condemned, and so generally detested, is what infinitely the greater part of mankind groan under, and have groaned under from the beginning. So that, by sure and uncon- tested principles, the greatest part of the governments on earth must be concluded tyrannies, impostures, violations of the natural rights of mankind, and worse than the most disorderly anarchies. How much other forms exceed this we shall consider immediately. NATURAL SOCIETY. 635 In all parts of the world, mankind, however debased, retains still the sense of feeling ; the weight of tyranny at last becomes insup- portable ; but the remedy is not so easy : in general, the only remedy by which they attempt to cure the tyranny is to change the tyrant. This is, and always was, the case for the greater part. In some countries, however, were found men of more penetration, who discovered " that to live hy one marCs will was the cause of all men's misery.'''' They therefore changed their former method, and assembling the men in their several societies the most respectable for their understanding and fortunes, they confided to them the charge of the public welfare. This originally formed what is called an aristocracy. They hoped it would be impossible that such a number could ever join in any design against the general good ; and they promised themselves a great deal of security and hap- piness from the united councils of so many able and experienced persons. But it is now found by abundant experience, that an aristocracy, and a despotism, differ but in name ; and that a people who are in general excluded from any share of the legislative, are, to all intents and purposes, as much slaves, when twenty, inde- pendent of them, govern, as when but one domineers. The tyranny is even more felt, as every individual of the nobles has the haugh- tiness of a sultan ; the people are more miserable, as they seem on the verge of liberty, from which they are for ever debarred ; this fallacious idea of liberty, whilst it presents a vain shadow of hap- piness to the subject, binds faster the chains of his subjection. What is left undone by the natural avarice and pride of those who are raised above the others, is completed by their suspicions, and their dread of losing an authority, which has no support in the common utility of the nation. A Genoese or a Venetian republic is a concealed despotism ; where you find the same pride of the rulers, the same base subjection of the people, the same bloody maxims of a suspicious policy. In one respect the aristocracy is worse than the despotism. A body politic, whilst it retains its authority, never changes its maxims ; a despotism, which is this day horrible to a supreme degree, by the caprice natural to the heart of man, may, by the same caprice otherwise exerted, be as lovely the next ; in a succession, it is possible to meet with some good princes. If there have been Tiberiuses, Caligulas, Neros, there have been likewise the serener days of Vespasians, Tituses, Trajans, and Antonines ; but a body politic is not influenced by caprice or whim, it proceeds in a regular manner, its succession is insensible ; and every man as he enters it, either has, or soon attains, the spirit of the whole body. Never was it known that an aristocracy, which was haughty and tyrannical in one century, became easy and mild 536 A VINDICATION OF in the next. In effect, the yoke of this species of government is so galling, that whenever the people have got the least power, they have shaken it off with the utmost indignation, and established a popular form. And when they have not had strength enough to support themselves, they have thrown themselves into the arms of despotism, as the more eligible of the two evils. This latter was the case of Denmark, who sought a refuge from the oppression of its nobility, in the strong hold of arbitrary power. Poland has at present the name of republic, and it is one of the aristocratic form ; but it is well known that the little finger of this government is heavier than the loins of arbitrary power in most nations. The people are not only politically, but personally slaves, and treated with the utmost indignity. The republic of Venice is somewhat more moderate ; yet even here, so heavy is the aristocratic yoke, that the nobles have been obliged to enervate the spirit of their subjects by every sort of debauchery ; they have denied them the liberty of reason, and they have made them amends by what a base soul will think a more valuable Hberty, by not only allowing, but encouraging them to corrupt themselves in the most scandalous manner. They consider their subjects as the farmer does the hog he keeps to feast upon. He holds him fast in his sty, but allows him to wallow as much as he pleases in his beloved filth and gluttony. So scandalously debauched a people as that of Venice is to be met with no where else. High, low, men, women, clergy, and laity, are all alike. The ruling nobility are no less afraid of one another than they are of the people ; and, for that reason, politi- cally enervate their own body by the same effeminate luxury by which they corrupt their subjects. They are impoverished by every means which can be invented ; and they are kept in a perpetual terror by the horrors of a state inquisition. Here you see a people deprived of all rational freedom, and tyrannized over by about two thousand men ; and yet this body of two thousand are so far from enjoying any liberty by the subjection of the rest, that they are in an infinitely severer state of slavery ; they make themselves the most degenerate and unhappy of mankind, for no other purpose than that they may the more effectually contribute to the misery of a whole nation. In short, the regular and methodical proceedings of an aristocracy are more intolerable than the very excesses of a despotism, and, in general, much further from any remedy. Thus, my lord, we have pursued aristocracy through its whole progress ; we have seen the seeds, the growth, and the fruit. It could boast none of the advantages of a despotism, miserable as those advantages were, and it was overloaded with an exuberance of mischiefs, unknown even to despotism itself. In effect, it is no NATURAL SOCIETY. 537 more than a disorderly tyranny. This form, therefore, could be little approved, even in speculation, by those who were capable of thinking, and could be less borne in practice by any who were capable of feeling. However, the fruitful policy of man was not yet exhausted. He had yet another farthing candle to supply the deficiencies of the sun. This was the third form, known by political writers under the name of democracy. Here the people transacted all public business, or the greater part of it, in their own persons ; their laws were made by themselves, and, upon any failure of duty, their officers were accountable to themselves, and to them only. In all appearance, they had secured by this method the advantages of order and good government, without paying their liberty for the purchase. Now, my lord, we are come to the master-piece of Grecian refinement, and Roman solidity, a popular government. The earliest and most celebrated republic of this model was that of Athens. It was constructed by no less an artist than the cele- brated poet and philosopher, Solon. But no sooner was this political vessel launched from the stocks, than it overset, even in the lifetime of the builder. A tyranny immediately supervened ; not by a foreign conquest, not by accident, but by the very nature and constitution of a democracy. An artful man became popular, the people had power in their hands, and they devolved a con- siderable share of their power upon their favourite ; and the only use he made of this power was, to plunge those who gave it into slavery. Accident restored their liberty, and the same good fortune produced men of uncommon abilities and uncommon virtues amongst them. But these abilities were suffered to be of little service either to their possessors or to the state. Some of these men, for whose sakes alone we read their history, they banished ; others they imprisoned, and all they treated with various circum- stances of the most shameful ingratitude. Republics have many things in the spirit of absolute monarchy, but none more than this. A shining merit is ever hated or suspected in a popular assembly, as well as in a court ; and all services done the state are looked upon as dangerous to the rulers, whether sultans or senators. The ostracism at Athens was built upon this principle. The giddy people whom we have now under consideration, being elated with some flashes of success, which they owed to nothing less than any merit of their own, began to tyrannize over their equals, who had associated with them for their common defence. With their prudence they renounced all appearance of justice. They entered into wars rashly and wantonly. If they were unsuccessful, instead of growing wiser by their misfortune, they threw the whole blame of their own misconduct on the ministers who had advised, and the 538 A VINDICATION OF generals who had conducted, those wars ; until by degrees they had cut off all who could serve them in their councils or their battles. If at any time these wars had a happier issue, it was no less difficult to deal with them on account of their pride and insolence. Furious in their adversity, tyrannical in their successes, a com- mander had more trouble to concert his defence before the people, than to plan the operations of the campaign. It was not uncommon for a general, under the horrid despotism of the Roman emperors, to be ill receive^ in proportion to the greatness of his services. Agricola is a strong instance of this. No man had done greater things, nor with more honest ambition. Yet, on his return to court, he was obliged to enter Rome with all the secrecy of a criminal. He went to the palace, not like a victorious commander who had merited and might demand the greatest rewards, but like an offender who had come to supplicate a pardon for his crimes. His reception was answerable ; " Exceptusqiie hrevi osculo et nulla sermone, turbw servientium immixtus estr Yet in that worst season of this worst of monarchical ' tyrannies, modesty, discretion, and a coolness of temper, formed some kind of security even for the highest merit. But at Athens, the nicest and best studied behaviour was not a sufficient guard for a man of great capacity. Some of their bravest commanders were obliged to fly their country, some to enter into the service of its enemies, rather than abide a popular determination on their conduct, lest, as one of them said, their giddiness might make the people condemn where they meant to acquit ; to throw in a black bean even when they intended a white one. The Athenians made a very rapid progress to the most enormous excesses. The people, under no restraint, soon grew dissolute, luxurious, and idle. They renounced all labour, and began to sub- sist themselves from the pubUc revenues. They lost all concern for their common honour or safety, and could bear no advice that tended to reform them. At this time truth became offensive to those lords the people, and most highly dangerous to the speaker. The orators no longer ascended the rostrum, but to corrupt them further with the most fulsome adulation. These orators were all bribed by foreign princes on the one side or the other. And besides its own parties, in this city there were parties, and avowed ones too, for the Persians, Spartans, and Macedonians, supported each of them by one or more demagogues pensioned and bribed to this iniquitous service. The people, forgetful of all virtue arid public spirit, and intoxicated with the flatteries of their orators (these ' Sciant quibus moris illicita mirari, posse etiam sub malis principibus magnos viros, &c. See p. 535, sqq. NATURAL SOCIETY. 539 courtiers of republics, and endowed with the distinguishing charac- teristics of all other courtiers), this people, I say, at last arrived at that pitch of madness, that they coolly and deliberately, by an express law, made it capital for any man to propose an application of the immense sums squandered in public shows, even to the most necessary purposes of the state. When you see the people of this re- public banishing and murdering their best and ablest citizens, dissi- pating the public treasure with the most senseless extravagance, and spending their whole time, as spectators or actors, in playing, fiddling, dancing, and singing, does it not, my lord, strike your imagination with the image of a sort of complex Nero ! And does it not strike you with the greater horror, when you observe, not one man only, but a whole city, grown drunk with pride and power, running with a rage of folly into the same mean and senseless debauchery and extravagance ? But if this people resembled Nero in their extravagance, much more did they resemble and even exceed him in cruelty and injustice. In the time of Pericles, one of the most celebrated times in the history of that commonwealth, a king of Egypt sent them a donation of corn. This they were mean enough to accept. And had the Egyptian prince intended the ruin of this city of wicked Bedlamites, he could not have taken a more effectual method to do it than by such an ensnaring largess. The dis- tribution of this bounty caused a quarrel ; the majority set on foot an inquiry into the title of the citizens ; and upon a vain pretence of illegitimacy, newly and occasionally set up, they deprived of their share of the royal donation no less than five thousand of their own body. They went further ; they disfranchised them ; and, having once begun with an act of injustice, they could set no bounds to it. Not content with cutting them off from the rights of citizens, they plun- dered these unfortunate wretches of all their substance ; and, to crown this masterpiece of violence and tyranny, they actually sold every man of the five thousand as slaves in the public market. Observe, my lord, that the five thousand we here speak of were cut off from a body of no more than nineteen thousand ; for the entire number of citizens was no greater at that time. Could the tyrant who wished the Eoman people but one neck ; could the tyrant Caligula himself have done, nay, he could scarcely wish for, a greater mischief than to have cut off, at one stroke, a fourth of his people 1 Or has the cruelty of that series of sanguine tyrants, the Caesars, ever presented such a piece of flagrant and extensive vnckedness ? The whole history of this celebrated republic is -but one tissue of rashness, folly, ingratitude, injustice, tumult, violence, and tyranny, and, indeed, of every species of wickedness that can well be imagined. This was a city of wise men, in which a minister 540 A VINDICATION OF could not exercise his functions ; a warlike people, amongst whom a general did not dare either to gain or lose a battle ; a learned nation, in which a philosopher could not venture on a free inquiry. This was the city which banished Themistocles, starved Aristides, P forced into exile Miltiades, drove out Anaxagoras, and poisoned I Socrates. This was a city which changed the form of its govern- j ment with the moon ; eternal conspiracies, revolutions daily, ' nothing fixed and established. A republic, as an ancient philosopher has observed, is no one species of government, but a magazine of every species ; here you find every sort of it, and that in the worst form. As there is a perpetual change, one rising and the other falling, you have all the violence and wicked policy by which a beginning power must always acquire its strength, and all the weak- ness by which falling states are brought to a complete destruction. Rome has a more venerable aspect than Athens ; and she con- ducted her affairs, so far as related to the ruin and oppression of the greatest part of the world, with greater wisdom and more uni- formity. But the domestic economy of these two states was nearly or altogether the same. An internal dissension constantly tore to pieces the bowels of the Roman commonwealth. You find the same confusion, the same factions, which subsisted at Athens, the same tumults, the same revolutions, and, in fine, the same slavery ; if, perhaps, their former condition did not deserve that name alto- gether as well. All other republics were of the same character. Florence was a transcript of Athens. And the modern republics, as they approach more or less to the democratic form, partake more or less of the nature of those which I have described. We are now at the close of our review of the three simple forms of artificial society ; and we have shown them, however they may differ in name, or in some slight circumstances, to be all alike in effect : in effect, to be all tyrannies. But suppose we were inclined to make the most ample concessions; let us concede Athens, Rome, Carthage, and two or three more of the ancient, and as many of the modern, commonwealths, to have been, or to be, free and happy, and to owe their freedom and happiness to their political constitution. Yet, allowing all this, what defence does this make for artificial society in general, that these inconsiderable spots of the globe have for some short space of time stood as excep- tions to a charge so general ? But when we call these governments free, or concede that their citizens were happier than those which lived under different forms, it is merely ex abimdanti. For we should be greatly mistaken, if we really thought that the majority of the people which filled these cities enjoyed even that nominal political freedom of which I have spoken so much already. In reality, they NATURAL SOCIETY. 541 had no part of it. In Athens there were usually from ten to thirty thousand freemen ; this was the utmost. But the slaves usually amounted to four hundred thousand, and sometimes to a great many more. The freemen of Sparta and Rome were not more numerous in proportion to those whom they held in a slavery even .more terrible than the Athenian. Therefore state the matter fairly : the free states never formed, though they were taken alto- gether, the thousandth part of the habitable globe ; the freemen in these states were never the twentieth part of the people, and the time they subsisted is scarce any thing in that immense ocean of duration in which time and slavery are so nearly commensurate. Therefore call these free states, or popular governments, or what you please ; when we consider the majority of their inhabitants, and regard the natural rights of mankind, they must appear, in reality and truth, no better than pitiful and oppressive oligarchies. After so fair an examen, wherein nothing has been exaggerated ; no fact produced which cannot be proved, and none which has been produced in any wise forced or strained, while thousands have, for brevity, been omitted ; after so candid a discussion in all respects ; what slave so passive, what bigot so blind, what enthusiast so head- long, what politician so hardened, as to stand up in defence of a system calculated for a curse to mankind ? a curse under which they smart and groan to this hour, without thoroughly knowing the nature of the disease, and wanting understanding or courage to supply the remedy. I need not excuse myself to your lordship, nor, I think, to any honest man, for the zeal I have shown in this cause ; for it is an honest zeal, and in a good cause. I have defended natural religion against a confederacy of atheists and divines. I now plead for natural society against politicians, and for natural reason against all three. When the world is in a fitter temper than it is at present to hear truth, or when I shall be more indifferent about its temper, my thoughts may become more public. In the mean time, let them repose in my own bosom, and in the bosoms of such men as are fit to be initiated in the sober mysteries of truth and reason. My antagonists have already done as much as I could desire. Parties in religion and politics make sufiicient discoveries concerning each other, to give a sober man a proper caution against them all. The monarchic, and aristocratical, and popular partisans, have been jointly laying their axes to the root of all government, and have, in their turns, proved each other absurd and inconvenient. In vain you tell me that artificial government is good, but that I fall out only with the abuse. The thing ! the thing itself is the abuse ! Observe, my lord, I pray you, that grand error upon which all arti- 542 A VINDICATION OF ficial legislative power is founded. It was observed, that men had \ ungovernable passions, which made it necessary to guard against 'the violence they might offer to each other. They appointed governors over them for this reason ; But a worse and more perplexing difficulty arises, how to be defended against the governors? Quis custodiet ipsos cmtodes? In vain they change from a single person to a few. These few have the passions of the one ; and they unite to strengthen themselves, and to secure the gratification of their lawless passions at the expense of the general good. In vain do we fly to the many. The case is worse ; their passions are less under the government of reason, they are aug- mented by the contagion, and defended against all attacks by their multitude. I have purposely avoided the mention of the mixed form of government, for reasons that will be very obvious to your lordship. But my caution can avail me but httle. You will not fail to urge it against me in favour of political society. You will not fail to show how the errors of the several simple modes are cor- rected by a mixture of all of them, and a proper balance of the several powers in such a state. I confess, my lord, that this has been long a darling mistake of my ovm ; and that of all the sacrifices I have made to truth, this has been by far the greatest. When I confess that I think this notion a mistake, I know to whom I am speaking, for I am satisfied that reasons are like liquors, and there are some of such a nature as none but strong heads can bear. There are few with whom I can communicate so freely as with Pope. But Pope cannot bear every truth. He has a timidity which hinders the full exertion of his faculties, almost as effectually as bigotry cramps those of the general herd of mankind. But whoever is a genuine follower of truth keeps his eye steady upon his guide, indifferent whither he is led, provided that she is the leader. And, my lord, if it be properly considered, it were infinitely better to remain possessed by the whole legion of vulgar mistakes, than to reject some, and at the same time to retain a fondness for others altogether as absurd and irrational. The first has at least a consistency, that makes a man, however erroneously, uniform at least ; but the latter way of proceeding is such an inconsistent chimera and jumble of philosophy and vulgar prejudice, that hardly any thing more ridiculous can be conceived. Let us therefore freely, and without fear or prejudice, examine this last contrivance of policy. And, without considering how near the quick our instruments may come, let us search it to the bottom. First, then, all men are agreed that this junction of regal, aristocratic, and popular power, must form a very complex, nice, NATURAL SOCIETY. 543 and intricate machine, which being composed of such a variety of parts, with such opposite tendencies and movements, it must be liable on every accident to be disordered. To speak without metaphor, such a government must be liable to frequent cabals, tumults, and revolutions, from its very constitution. These are undoubtedly as ill effects as can happen in a society ; for in such a case, the closeness acquired by community, instead of serving for mutual defence, serves only to increase the danger. Such a system is like a city, where trades that require constant fires are much exercised, where the houses are built of combustible materials, and where they stand extremely close. In the second place, the several constituent parts having their distinct rights, and these many of them so necessary to be deter- mined with exactness, are yet so indeterminate in their nature, that it becomes a new and constant source of debate and confusion. Hence it is, that whilst the business of government should be carrying on, the question is, Who has a right to exercise this or that function of it, or what men have power to keep their offices in any function ? Whilst this contest continues, and whilst the balance in any sort continues, it has never any remission ; all manner of abuses and villanies in officers remain unpunished ; the greatest frauds and robberies in the public revenues are committed in defiance of justice ; and abuses grow, by time and impunity, into customs ; until they prescribe against the laws, and grow too in- veterate often to admit a cure, unless such as may be as bad as the disease. Thirdly, the several parts of this species of government, though united, preserve the spirit which each form has separately. Kings are ambitious ; the nobility haughty ; and the populace tumultuous and ungovernable. Each party, however in appearance peaceable, carries on a design upon the others ; and it is owing to this, that in all questions, whether concerning foreign or domestic affairs, the whole generally turns more upon some party-matter than upon the nature of the thing itself ; whether such a step will diminish or augment the power of the crown, or how far the privileges of the subject are likely to be extended or restricted by it. And these questions are constantly resolved, without any consideration of the merits of the cause, merely as the parties who uphold these jarring interests may chance to prevail ; and as they prevail, the balance is overset, now upon one side, now upon the other. The government is, one day, arbitrary power in a single person ; another, a juggling confederacy of a few to cheat the prince and enslave the people ; and the third, a frantic and unmanageable democracy. The great instrument of all these changes, and what infuses a peculiar 544 A VINDICATION OP venom into all of them, is party. It is of no consequence what the principles of any party, or what their pretensions are ; the spirit which actuates all parties is the same ; the spirit of ambition, of self-interest, of oppression and treachery. This spirit entirely reverses all the principles which a benevolent nature has erected within us ; all honesty, all equal justice, and even the ties of natural society, the natural affections. In a word, my lord, we have all seen, and, if any outward considerations were worthy the lasting concern of a wise man, we have some of nsifelt, such oppression from party government as no other tyranny can parallel. We behold daily the most important rights, rights upon which all the others depend, we behold these rights determined in the last resort, without the least attention even to the appearance or colour of justice ; we behold this without emotion, because we have grown up in the constant view of such practices ; and we are not sur- prised to hear a man requested to be a knave and a traitor, with as much indifference as if the most ordinary favour were asked ; and we hear this request refused, not because it is a most unjust and unreasonable desire, but because this worthy has already engaged his injustice to another. These and many more points I am far from spreading to their full extent. You are sensible that I do not put forth half my strength ; and you cannot be at a loss for the reason. A man is allowed sufficient freedom of thought, pro- vided he knows how to choose his subject properly. You may criticise freely upon the Chinese constitution, and observe with as much severity as you please upon the absurd tricks, or destructive bigotry of the bonzees. But the scene is changed as you come homeward, and atheism or treason may be the names given in Britain, to what would be reason and truth if asserted of China. I submit to the condition, and though I have a notorious advantage before me, I waive the pursuit. For else, my lord, it is very obvious what a picture might be drawn of the excesses of party even in our own nation. I could show, that the same faction has, in one reign, promoted popular seditions, and, in the next, been a patron of tyranny : I could show that they have all of them betrayed the pubhc safety at all times, and have very frequently with equal perfidy made a market of their own cause, and their own associates. I could show how vehemently they have contended for names, and how silently they have passed over things of the last importance. And I could demonstrate that they have had the opportunity of doing all this mischief, nay, that they themselves had their origin and growth from that complex form of government, which we are wisely taught to look upon as so great a blessing. Revolve, my lord, our history from the Conquest. We scarcely ever had a NATURAL SOCIETY. 545 prince, who, by fraud or violence, had not made some infringement on the constitution. We scarcely ever had a parliament which knew, when it attempted to set limits to the royal authority, how to set Umits to its own. Evils we have had continually calling for reformation, and reformations more grievous than any evils. Our boasted liberty sometimes trodden down, sometimes giddily set up, and ever precariously fluctuating and unsettled ; it has only been kept alive by the blast of continual feuds, wars, and conspiracies. In no country in Europe has the scaffold so often blushed with the blood of its nobility. Confiscations, banishments, attainders, executions, make a large part of the history of such of our families as are not utterly extinguished by them. Formerly in- deed things had a more ferocious appearance than they have at this day. In these early and unrefined ages, the jarring part of a certain chaotic constitution supported their several preten- sions by the sword. Experience and pohcy have since taught other methods. At nunc res agitur tenui pulmoue rubetse. But how far corruption, venality, the contempt of honour, the oblivion of all duty to our country, and the most abandoned public prostitution, are preferable to the more glaring and violent effects of faction, I will not presume to determine. Sure I am that they are very great evils. I have done vnth the forms of government. During the course of my inquiry you may have observed a very material difference between my manner of reasoning and that which is in use amongst the abettors of artificial society. They form their plans upon what seems most eligible to their imaginations, for the ordering of man- kind. I discover the mistakes in those plans, from the real known consequences which have resulted from them. They have enlisted reason to fight against itself, and employ its whole force to prove that it is an insufficient guide to them in the conduct of their lives. But unhappily for us, in proportion as we have deviated from the plain rule of our nature, and turned our reason against itself, in that proportion have we increased the follies and miseries of man- kind. The more deeply we penetrate into the labyrinth of art, the further we find ourselves from those ends for which we entered it. This has happened in almost every species of artificial society, and in all times. We found, or we thought we found, an inconvenience in having every man the judge of his own cause. Therefore judges were set up, at first, with discretionary powers. But it was soon found a miserable slavery to have our lives and properties precarious, . and hanging upon the arbitrary determination of any one man, or VOL. II. N n 546 A VINDICATION OF set of men. We fled to laws as a remedy for this evil. By these we persuaded ourselves we might know with some certainty upon what ground we stood. But lo ! differences arose upon the sense and interpretation of these laws. Thus we were brought back to our old incertitude. New laws were made to expound the old ; and new difficulties arose upon the new laws ; as words' multiplied, opportunities of cavilling upon them multiplied also. Then recourse was had to notes, comments, glosses, reports, responsa prudentwn, learned readings ^ eagle stood against eagle : authority was set up against authority. Some were allured by the modern, others reve- renced the ancient. The new were more enlightened, the old were more venerable. Some adopted the comment, others stuck to the text. The confusion increased, the mist thickened, until it could be discovered no longer what was allowed or forbidden, what things were in property, and what common. In this uncertainty, (uncer- tain even to the professors, an Egyptian darkness to the rest of mankind,) the contending parties felt themselves more effectually ruined by the delay, than they could have been by the injustice of any decision. Our inheritances are become a prize for disputa- tion ; and disputes and litigations are become an inheritance. The professors of artificial law have always walked hand in hand with the professors of artificial theology. As their end, in con- founding the reason of man, and abridging his natural freedom, is exactly the same, they have adjusted the means to that end in a way entirely similar. The divine thunders out his anathemas with more noise and terror against the breach of one of his positive in- stitutions, or the neglect of some of his trivial forms, than against the neglect or breach of those duties and commandments of natural religion, which by these forms and institutions he pretends to en- force. The lawyer has his forms, and his positive institutions too, and he adheres to them with a veneration altogether as religious. The worst cause cannot be so prejudicial to the litigant, as his ad- vocate's or attorney's ignorance or neglect of these forms. A law- suit is like an ill-managed dispute, in which the first object is soon out of sight, and the parties end upon a matter wholly foreign to that on which they began. In a law-suit the question is, who has a right to a certain house or farm ? And this question is daily determined, not upon the evidence of the right, but upon the observance or neglect of some forms of words in use with the gen- tlemen of the robe, about which there is even amongst themselves such a disagreement, that the most experienced veterans in the profession can never be positively assured that they are not mis- taken. Let us expostulate with these learned sages, these priests of the NATURAL SOCIETY. 547 sacred temple of justice. Are we judges of our own property ? By no means. You then, who are initiated into the mysteries of the blindfold goddess, inform me whether I have a right to eat the bread I have earned by the hazard of my life, or the sweat of my brow I The grave doctor answers me in the affirmative ; the reverend serjeant replies in the negative ; the learned barrister reasons upon one side and upon the other, and concludes nothing. What shall I do ? An antagonist starts up and presses me hard. I enter the field, and retain these three persons to defend my cause. My cause, which two farmers from the plough could have decided in half an hour, takes the court twenty years. I am how- ever at the end of my labour, and have in reward for all my toil and vexation a judgment in my favour. But hold — a sagacious com- mander, in the adversary's army, has found a flaw in the proceeding. My triumph is turned into mourning. I have used or, instead of and, or some mistake, small in appearance, but dreadful in its con- sequences ; and have the whole of my success quashed in a writ of error. I remove my suit ; I shift from court to court ; I fly from equity to law, and from law to equity ; equal uncertainty attends me every where ; and a mistake in which I had no share, decides at once upon my liberty and property, sending me from the court to a prison, and adjudging my family to beggary and famine. I am innocent, gentlemen, of the darkness and uncertainty of your science. I never darkened it with absurd and contradictory notions, nor confounded it with chicane and sophistry. You have excluded me from any share in the conduct of my own cause ; the science was too deep for me ; I acknowledged it ; but it was too deep even for yourselves : you have made the way so intricate, that you are yourselves lost in it ; you err, and you punish me for your errors. The delay of the law is, your lordship will tell me, a trite topic, and which of its abuses have not been too severely felt not to be complained of? A man's property is to serve for the purposes of his support; and therefore, to delay a determination concerning that, is the worst injustice, because it cuts ofi" the very end and purpose for which I applied to the judicature for relief. Quite con- trary in the case of a man's life ; there the determination can hardly be too much protracted. Mistakes in this case are as often fallen into as many other ; and if the judgment is sudden, the mistakes are the most irretrievable of all others. Of this the gentlemen of the robe are themselves sensible, and they have brought it into a maxim. De morte hominis nulla est cwnctatio longa. But what could have induced them to reverse the rules, and to contradict that rea- son which dictated them, I am utterly unable to guess. A point concerning property, which ought, for the reasons I have just men- N n 2 548 A VINDICATION OF tioned, to be most speedily decided, frequently exercises the wit of successions of lawyers, for many generations. Multa mrum vohens durando swcula mncit. But the question concerning a man's life, that great question in which no delay ought to be counted tedious, is commonly determined in twenty-four hours at the utmost. It is not to be wondered at, that injustice and absurdity should be in- ' separable companions. Ask of politicians the end for which laws were originally designed; and they will answer, that the laws were designed as a protection for the poor andVeak, against the oppression of the rich and power- ful. But surely no pretence can be so ridiculous ; a man might as well tell me he has taken off my load, because he has changed the burden. If the poor man is not able to support his suit, according to the vexatious and expensive manner established in civilized coun- tries, has not the rich as great an advantage over him as the strong has over the weak in a state of nature ? But we will not place the state of nature, which is the reign of God, in competition with poUtical society, which is the absurd usurpation of man. In a state of nature, it is true that a man of superior force may beat or rob me ; but then it is true, that I am at full liberty to defend myself, or make reprisal by surprise or by cunning, or by any other way in which I may be superior to him. But in political society, a rich man may rob me in another way. I cannot defend myself; for money is the only weapon with which we are allowed to fight. And if I attempt to avenge myself, the whole force of that society is ready to complete my ruin. A good parson once said, that where mystery begins, religion ends. Cannot I say, as truly at least, of human laws, that where < mystery begins, justice ends ? It is hard to say, whether the doc- tors of law or divinity have made the greater advances in the lucra- tive business of mystery. The lawyers, as well as the theologians, have erected another reason besides natural reason ; and the result has been, another justice besides natural justice. They have so bewildered the world and themselves in unmeaning forms and cere- monies, and so perplexed the plainest matters with metaphysical jargon, that it carries the highest danger to a man out of that pro- fession, to make the least step without their advice and assistance. Thus, by confining to themselves the knowledge of the foundation of all men's lives and properties, they have reduced all mankind into the most abject and servile dependence. We are tenants at the will of these gentlemen for every thing ; and a metaphysical quibble is to decide whether the greatest villain breathing shall meet his deserts, or escape with impunity, or whether the best man in the society shall not be reduced to the lowest and most despicable con- NATURAL SOCIETY. 549 dition it affords. In a word, my lord, the injustice, delay, puerility, false refinement, and affected mystery of the law are such, that many who live under it come to admire and envy the expedition, simplicity, and equality of arbitrary judgments. I need insist the less on this article to your lordship, as you have frequently lamented the miseries derived to us from artificial law, and your candour is the more to be admired and applauded in this, as your lordship's noble house has derived its wealth and its honours from that pro- fession. Before we finish our examination of artificial society, I shall lead your lordship into a closer consideration of the relations which it gives birth to, and the benefits, if such they are, which result from these relations. The most obvious division of society is into rich and poor ; and it is no less obvious, that the number of the former bear a great disproportion to those of the latter. The whole busi- ness of the poor is to administer to the idleness, folly, and luxury of the rich ; and that of the rich, in return, is to find the best methods of confirming the slavery and increasing the burdens of the poor. In a state of nature, it is an invariable law, that a man's acquisitions are in proportion to his labours. In a state of artificial society, it is a law as constant and as invariable, that those who labour most enjoy the fewest things ; and that those who labour not at all have the greatest number of enjoyments. A constitution of things this, strange and ridiculous beyond expression ! We scarce believe a thing when we are told it, which we actually see before our eyes every day without being in the least surprised. I suppose that there are in Great Britain upwards of a hundred thousand people employed in lead, tin, iron, copper, and coal mines ; these unhappy wretches scarce ever see the light of the sun ; they are buried in the bowels of the earth ; there they work at a severe and dismal task, without the least prospect of being delivered from it ; they subsist upon the coarsest and worst sort of fare ; they have their health miserably impaired, and their lives cut short, by being per- petually confined in the close vapour of these malignant minerals. A hundred thousand more at least are tortured without remission by the suffocating smoke, intense fires, and constant drudgery necessary in refining and managing the products of those mines. If any man informed us that two hundred thousand innocent persons were con- demned to so intolerable slavery, how should we pity the unhappy sufferers, and how great would be our just indignation against those who inflicted so cruel and ignominious a punishment ! This is an instance — I could not wish a stronger — of the numberless things which we pass by in their common dress, yet which shock us when they are nakedly represented. But this number, considerable as it 550 A VINDICATION OF is, and the slavery, with all its baseness and horror, which we have at home, is nothing to what the rest of the world aflfords of the same nature. Millions daily bathed in the poisonous damps and destructive effluvia of lead, silver, copper, and arsenic. To say nothing of those other employments, those stations of wretchedness and contempt, in which civil society has placed the numerous en/ans perdm of her army. Would any rational man submit to one of the most tolerable of these drudgeries, for all the artificial enjoyments which policy has made to result from them ? By no means. And yet need I suggest to your lordship, that those who find the means, and those who arrive at the end, are not at all the same persons. On considering the strange and unaccountable fancies and con- trivances of artificial reason, I have somewhere called this earth the Bedlam of our system. Looking now upon the effects of some of those fancies, may we not with equal reason call it likewise the Newgate and the Bridewell of the universe ? Indeed the blindness of one part of mankind co-operating with the frenzy and villany of the other, has been the real builder of this respectable fabric of political society : and as the blindness of mankind has caused their slavery, in return their state of slavery is made a pretence for continuing them in a state of blindness ; for the politician will tell you gravely, that their life of servitude disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for a search of truth, and supplies them with no other than mean and insufficient ideas. This is but too true ; and this is one of the reasons for which I blame such institutions. In a misery of this sort, admitting some few lenities, and those too but a few, nine parts in ten of the whole race of mankind drudge through life. It may be urged perhaps, in palliation of this, that at least the rich few find a considerable and real benefit from the wretchedness of the many. But is this so in fact ? Let us examine the point with a little more attention. For this purpose the rich in all societies may be thrown into two classes. The first is of those who are powerful as well as rich, and conduct the operations of the vast political machine. The other is of those who employ their riches wholly in the acquisition of pleasure. As to the first sort, their continual care and anxiety, their toilsome days, and sleepless nights, are next to proverbial. These circumstances are sufficient almost to level their condition to that of the unhappy majority ; but there are other circumstances which place them in a far lower con- dition. Not only their understandings labour continually, which is the severest labour, but their hearts are torn by the worst, most troublesome, and insatiable of all passions, by avarice, by ambition, by fear and jealousy. No part of the mind has rest. Power gradually extirpates from the mind every humane and gentle virtue. NATURAL SOCIETY. 551 Pity, benevolence, friendship, are things almost unknown in high stations. VercB amiciticB rarissime inveniuntur in its qui in hono- ribus reqyts publica versantur, says Cicero. And indeed courts are the schools where cruelty, pride, dissimulation, and treachery are studied and taught in the most vicious perfection. This is a point so clear and acknowledged, that if it did not make a necessary part of my subject, I should pass it by entirely. And this has hindered me from drawing at full length, and in the most striking colours, this shocking picture of the degeneracy and wretchedness of human nature, in that part which is vulgarly thought its happiest and most amiable state. You know from what originals I could copy such pictures. Happy are they who know enough of them to know the little value of the possessors of such things, and of all that they possess ; and happy they who have been snatched from tbat post of danger which they occupy, with the remains of their virtue ; loss of honours, wealth, titles, and even the loss of one's country, is nothing in balance with so great an advantage. Let us now view the other species of the rich, those who devote their time and fortunes to idleness and pleasure. How much happier are they ? The pleasures which are agreeable to nature are within the reach of all, and therefore can form no distinction in favour of the rich. The pleasures which art forces up are seldom sincere, and never satisfying. What is worse, this constant appli- cation to pleasure takes away from the enjoyment, or rather turns it into the nature of a very burdensome and laborious business. It has consequences much more fatal. It produces a weak valetudi- nary state of body, attended by all those horrid disorders, and yet more horrid methods of cure, which are the result of luxury on the one hand, and the weak and ridiculous efforts of human art on the other. The pleasures of such men are scarcely felt as pleasures ; at the same time that they bring on pains and diseases, which are felt but too severely. The mind has its share of the misfortune ; it grows lazy and enervate, unwilling and unable to search for truth, and utterly uncapable of knowing, much less of reUshing, real happi- ness. The poor by their excessive labour, and the rich by their enormous luxury, are set upon a level, and rendered equally ignorant of any knowledge which might conduce to their happiness. A dismal view of the interior of aU civil society ! The lower part broken and ground down by the most cruel oppression ; and the rich by their artificial method of life bringing worse evils on them- selves, than their tyranny could possibly inflict on those below them. Very different is the prospect of the natural state. Here there are no wants which nature gives, and in this state men can be sensible of no other wants, which are not to be supplied by a very moderate -7 552 A VINDICATION OF' degree of labour ; therefore there is no slavery. Neither is there any luxury, because no single, man can supply the materials of it. Life is simple, and therefore it is happy. I am conscious, my lord, that your politician will urge in his defence, that this unequal state is highly useful. That without dooming some part of mankind to extraordinary toil, the arts which cultivate life could not be exercised. But I demand of this politi- cian, how such arts came to be necessary I He answers, that civil society could not ^eU exist without them. So that these arts are necessary to civil society, and civil society necessary again to these arts. Thus are we running in a circle, without modesty, and without end, and making one error and extravagance an excuse for the other. My sentiments about these arts and their cause, I have often discoursed with my friends at large. Pope has expressed them in good verse, where he talks with so much force of reason and elegance of language, in praise of the state of nature : " Then was not pride, nor arts that pride to aid, Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the shade." On the whole, my lord, if political society, in whatever form, has still made the many the property of the few ; if it has introduced labours unnecessary, vices and diseases unknovm, and pleasures incompatible with nature ; if in all countries it abridges the lives of millions, and renders those of millions more utterly abject and miserable, shall we still worship so destructive an idol, and daily sacrifice -to it our health, our liberty, and our peace ? Or shall we pass by this monstrous heap of absurd notions, and abominable practices, thinking we have sufficiently discharged our duty in exposing the trifling cheats, and ridiculous juggles of a few mad, designing, or ambitious priests ? Alas ! my lord, we labour under a mortal consumption, whilst we are so anxious about the cure of a sore finger. For has not this leviathan of civil power overflowed the earth with a deluge of blood, as if he were made to disport and play therein? We have shown that political society, on a moderate calculation, has been the means of murdering several times the number of inhabitants now upon the earth, during its short existence, not upwards of four thousand years in any accounts to be depended on. But we have said nothing of the other, and perhaps as bad, consequence of these wars, which have spilled such seas of blood, and reduced so many millions to a merciless slavery. But these are only the ceremonies performed in the porch of the political temple. Much more horrid ones are seen as you enter it. The several species of government vie with each other in the absurdity of their constitutions, and the oppression which they make their NATURAL SOCIETY. 653 subjects endure. Take them under what form you please, they are in effect but a despotism, and they fall, both in effect and appearance too, after a very short period, into that cruel and detestable species of tyranny : which I rather call it, because we have been educated under another form, than that this is of worse consequences to mankind. For the free governments, for the point of their space, and the moment of their duration, have felt more confusion, and committed more flagrant acts of tyranny, than the most perfect despotic governments which we have ever known. Turn your eye next to the labyrinth of the law, and the iniquity conceived in its intricate recesses. Consider the ravages committed in the bowels of all commonwealths by ambition, by avarice, envy, fraud, open injustice, and pretended friendship ; vices which could draw little support from a state of nature, but which blossom and flourish in the rankness of political society. Revolve our whole discourse ; add to it all those reflections which your own good understanding shall suggest, and make a strenuous effort beyond the reach of vulgar philosophy, to confess that the cause of artificial society is more defenceless even than that of artificial religion ; that it is as dero- gatory from the honour of the Creator, as subversive of human reason, and productive of infinitely more mischief to the human race. If pretended revelations have caused wars where they were opposed, and slavery where they were received, the pretended wise inventions of politicians have done the same. But the slavery has been much heavier, the wars far more bloody, and both more universal by many degrees. Show me any mischief produced by the madness or wicked- ness of theologians, and I will show you a hundred resulting from the ambition and villany of conquerors and statesmen. Show me an absurdity in religion, and I will undertake to show you a hundred for one in political laws and institutions. If you say that natural religion is a sufficient guide without the foreign aid of revela- tion, on what principle should political laws become necessary ? Is not the same reason available in theology and in politics ? If the laws of nature are the laws of God, is it consistent with the Divine wisdom to prescribe rules to us, and leave the enforcement of them to the folly of human institutions ? Will you follow truth but to a certain point ? We are indebted for all our miseries to our distrust of that guide which Providence thought sufficient for our condition, our own natural reason, which rejecting both in human and divine things, we have given our necks to the yoke of political and theological slavery. We have renounced the prerogative of man, and it is no wonder that we should be treated like beasts. But our misery is 554 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETy. much greater than theirs, as the crime we commit in rejecting the lawful dominion of our reason is greater than any which they can commit. If after all, you should confess all these things, yet plead the necessity of political institutions, weak and wicked as they are, I can argue with equal, perhaps superior, force, concerning the necessity of artificial religion ; and every step you advance in your argument, you add a strength to mine. So that if we are resolved to submit our reason and our liberty to civil usurpation, we have nothing to do but to conform as quietly as we can to the vulgar notions which are connected with this, and take up the theology of the vulgar as well as their politics. But if we think this necessity rather imaginary than real, we should renounce their dreams of society, together with their visions of religion, and vindicate our- selves into perfect liberty. You are, my lord, but just entering into the world ; I am going out of it. I have played long enough to be heartily tired of the drama. Whether I have acted my part in it well or ill, posterity will judge with more candour than I, or than the present age, with our present passions, can possibly pretend to. For my part, I quit it without a sigh, and submit to the sovereign order without murmur- ing. The nearer we approach to the goal of life, the better we begin to understand the true value of our existence, and the real weight of our opinions. We set out much in love with both ; but we leave much behind us as we advance. We first throw away the tales along with the rattles of our nurses : those of the priest keep their hold a little longer ; those of our governors the longest of all. But the passions which prop these opinions are withdrawn one after another ; and the cool light of reason, at the setting of our life, shows us what a false splendour played upon these objects during our more sanguine seasons. Happy, my lord, if instructed by my experience, and even by my errors, you come early to make such an estimate of things, as may give freedom and ease to your life. I am happy that such an estimate promises me comfort at my death. A PHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRY INTO THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS OF THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL. WITH AN INTEODUCTOET DISCOTESE CONCERNING TASTE, AND SEVERAL OTHER ADDITIONS. PREFACE. I HAVE endeavoured to make this edition something more full and satisfactory than the first. I have sought with the utmost care, and read with equal attention, every thing which has appeared in public against my opinions ; I have taken advantage of the candid Uberty of my friends ; and if by these means I have been better enabled to discover the imperfections of the work, the indulgence it has received, imperfect as it was, furnished me with a new motive to spare no reasonable pains for its improvement. Though I have not found sufficient reason, or what appeared to me sufficient, for making any material change in my theory, I have found it necessary in many places to explain, illustrate, and enforce it. I have prefixed an introductory discourse concerning Taste : it is a matter curious in itself ; and it leads naturally enough to the principal inquiry. This, with the other explanations, has made the work considerably larger : and by increasing its bulk has, I am afraid, added to its faults ; so that notwithstanding all my attention, it may stand in need of a yet greater share of indulgence than it required at its first appearance. They who are accustomed to studies of this nature will expect, and they will allow too for many faults. They know that many of the objects of our inquiry are in themselves obscure and intricate ; and that many others have been rendered so by affected refinements, or false learning ; they know that there are many impediments in the subject, in the prejudices of others, and even in our own, that render it a matter of no small difficulty to show in a clear light the genuine face of nature. They know that whilst the mind is intent on the general scheme of things, some particular parts must be neglected ; that we must often submit the style to the matter, and frequently give up the praise of elegance, satisfied with being clear. The characters of nature are legible, it is true ; but they are not plain enough to enable those who run, to read them. We must make use of a cautious, I had almost said, a timorous method of 658 PREFACE. proceeding. We must not attempt to fly, when we can scarcely pretend to creep. In considering any complex matter, we ought to examine every distinct ingredient in the composition, one by one ; and reduce every thing to the utmost simplicity ; since the condi- tion of our nature binds us to a strict law and very narrow limits. We ought afterwards to re-examine the principles by the effect of the composition, as well as the composition by that of the principles. We ought to compare our subject with things of a similar nature, and even with things of a contrary nature ; for discoveries may be, and often are made by the contrast, which would escape us on the single view. The greater number of the comparisons we make, the more general and the more certain our knowledge is likely to prove, as built upon a more extensive and perfect induction. If any inquiry thus carefully conducted should fail at last of discovering the truth, it may answer an end perhaps as useful, in discovering to us the weakness of our own understanding. If it does not make us knowing, it may make us modest. If it does not preserve us from error, it may at least from the spirit of error; and may make us cautious of pronouncing with positive- ness or with haste, when so much labour may end in so much uncertainty. I could wish that, in examining this theory, the same method were pursued which I endeavoured to observe in forming it. The objections, in my opinion, ought to be proposed, either to the several principles as they are distinctly considered, or to the just^ ness of the conclusion which is drawn from them. But it is com- mon to pass over both the premises and conclusion in silence, and to produce, as an objection, some poetical passage which does not seem easily accounted for upon the principles I endeavour to esta- blish. This manner of proceeding I should think very improper. The task would be infinite, if we could establish no principle until we had previously unravelled the complex texture of every image or description to be found in poets and orators. And though we should never be able to reconcile the effect of such images to our principles, this can never overturn the theory itself, whilst it is founded on certain and indisputable facts. A theory founded on experiment, and not assumed, is always good for so much as it explains. Our inability to push it indefinitely is no argument at all against it. This inability may be owing to our ignorance of some necessary mediums; to a want of proper application; to many other causes besides a defect in the principles we employ. In reality, the subject requires a much closer attention than we dare claim from our manner of treating it. If it should not appear on the face of the work, I must caution PREFACE. 559 the reader against imagining that I intended a full dissertation on the Sublime and Beautiful. My inquiry went no farther than to the origin of these ideas. If the qualities which I have ranged under the head of the Sublime be all found consistent with each other, and aU different from those which I place under the head of Beauty ; and if those which compose the class of the Beautiful have the same consistency with themselves, and the same opposi- tion to those which are classed under the denomination of Sublime, I am in little pain whether any body chooses to follow the name I give them or not, provided he allows that what I dispose under different heads are in reality different things in nature. The use I make of the words may be blamed, as too confined or too extended; my meaning cannot well be misunderstood. To conclude : whatever progress may be made towards the dis- covery of truth in this matter, I do not repent the pains I have taken in it. The use of such inquiries may be very considerable. Whatever turns the soul inward on itself, tends to concentre its forces, and to fit it for greater and stronger flights of science. By looking into physical causes our minds are opened and en- larged ; and in this pursuit, whether we take or whether we lose our game, the chace is certainly of service. Cicero, true as he was to the academic philosophy, and consequently led to reject the certainty of physical, as of every other kind of knowledge, yet freely confesses its great importance to the human understanding : '■^ Est animorum ingmiorvrnque nostrorwm naturale quoddam quasi pabulum consideratio contemplatioque naturwr If we can direct the lights' we derive from such exalted speculations upon the humbler field of the imagination, whilst we investigate the springs, and trace the courses of our passions, we may not only communicate to the taste a sort of philosophical solidity, but we may reflect back on the severer sciences some of the graces and elegancies of taste, without which the greatest proficiency in those sciences will always have the appearance of something illiberal. CONTENTS. PAGE A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful 555 \The first edition of this work was published in 1756; the second, with large addi- tions, in the year 1757.] . Introduction : On Taste 565 PART I. SECT. I. Novelty 579 II. Pain and Pleasure 680 III. The Difference between the removal of Pain and positive Pleasure 581 IV. Of Delight and Pleasure, as opposed to each other 582 V. Joy and Grief 583 VI. Of the Passions which belong to Self-preservation 584 VII. Of the Sublime 585 VIII. Of the Passions which belong to Society ib. IX. The final cause of the Difference between the Passions belonging to Self-preservation, and those which regard the Society of the Sexes 586 X. Of Beauty 587 XI, Society and Solitude 588 XII. Sympathy, Imitation, and Ambition ib. XIII. Sympathy 589 XIV, The Effects of Sympathy in the distresses of others ib. XV. Of the Effects of Tragedy 591 XVI. Imitation 592 XVII, Ambition 593 XVIII. The Recapitulation 594 XIX. The Conclusion 595 VOL. II. O o 562 CONTENTS. PART II. SECT. ^*^^ I. Of the Passion caused by the Sublime 598 II. Terror ib. III. Obscurity 599 IV. Of the DifFerence between Clearness and Obscurity with regard to the Passions 600 [IV.] The same subject continued 601 V. Power 603 VI. Privation 608 VII. Vastness 609 VIII. Infinity ib. IX. Succession and Uniformity 610 X. Magnitude in Building 612 XL Infinity in pleasing Objects ib. XII. Difficulty 613 XIII. Magnificence ib. XIV. Light 614 XV. Light in Building 615 XVI. Colour considered as productive of the Sublime 616 XVII. Sound and Loudness ib. XVIII. Suddenness 617 XIX. Intermitting ib. XX. The Cries of Animals 618 XXI. Smell and Taste. Bitters and Stenches ib. XXII. Feeling. Pain 619 PART III. I. Of Beauty 621 II. Proportion not the cause of Beauty in Vegetables 622 III. Proportion not the cause of Beauty in Animals 624 IV. Proportion not the cause of Beauty in the Human Species . . . 625 V. Proportion further considered 629 VI. Fitness not the cause of Beauty . 631 VII. The real effects of Fitness . 633 VIII. The Recapitulation 635 IX. Perfection not the cause of Beauty , . ib. X. How far the idea of Beauty may be applied to the Qualities of the Mind ib. XI. How far the idea of Beauty may be applied to Virtue 636 XII. The real cause of Beauty 637 XIII. Beautiful Objects small ib. CONTENTS. 663 SECT. PAGE XIV. Smoothness 638 XV. Gradual Variation 639 XVI. Delicacy 640 XVII. Beauty in Colour ib. XVIII. Recapitulation 641 XIX. The Physiognomy ib. XX. The Eye ib. XXI. Ugliness 642 XXII. Grace ib. XXIII. Elegance and Speciousness 643 XXIV. The Beautiful in FeeKng ib. XXV. The Beautiful in Sounds 644 XXVI. Taste and Smell 646 XXVII. The Sublime and Beautiful compared ib. PART IV. I. Of the efficient Cause of the Sublime and Beautiful 648 II. Association 649 III. Cause of Pain and Fear . ^ ib. IV. Continued 651 V. How the Sublime is produced . . . ib. VI. How Pain can be a cause of Delight 652 VII. Exercise necessary for the finer Organs 653 VIII. Why things not dangerous sometimes produce a passion like Terror ib. IX. Why visual Objects of great dimensions are Sublime 654 X. Unity, why requisite to Vastness 655 XI. The artificial Infinite ib. XII. The Vibrations must be similar 656 XIII. The Effects of Succession in visual Objects explained 657 XIV. Locke's opinion concerning Darkness considered 658 XV. Darkness terrible in its own Nature 659 XVI. Why Darkness is terrible 660 XVII. The Effects of Blackness 661 XVIII. The Effects of Blackness moderated 662 XIX. The physical cause of Love 663 XX. Why Smoothness is Beautiful 664 XXI. Sweetness, its Nature 665 XXII. Sweetness relaxing 666 XXIII. Variation, why beautiful 667 XXIV. Concerning Smallness 668 XXV. Of Colour 670 O O 2 564 CONTENTS. PART V. SECT. PAGE «-I. Of Words 672 i-dl. The common Effects of Poetry, not by raising Ideas of Things . . ib. '-' III. General Words before Ideas 674 IV. The Effect of Words ib. v.. Examples, that Words may affect without raising Images . . . 675 VI, Poetry not^strictly an imitative art 679 VII. How Words influence the Passions ib. INTRODUCTION. ON TASTE. On a superficial view we may seem to differ very widely from each other in our reasonings, and no less in our pleasures : but, not- withstanding this difference, which I think to be rather apparent than real, it is probable that the standard both of (reasoii>nd tasted is the same in aU human creatures. For if there were not some principles of judgment as well as of sentiment common to all mankind, no hold could possibly be taken either on theif i;eason or their passions, sufficient to maintain the ordinary correspondLOce of life. It appears, indeed, to be generally acknowledged, that Vv-'th regard to truth and falsehood there is something fixed. We find people in their disputes continually appealing to certain tests and standards, which are allowed on all sides, and are supposed to be established in our common nature. But there is not the same obvious concurrence in any uniform or settled principles which relate to taste. It is even commonly supposed that this delicate and aerial faculty, which seems too volatile to endure even the chains of a definition, cannot be properly tried by any test, nor regulated by any standard.— There is so continual a call for the exercise of the reasoning faculty ; and it is so much strengthened by perpetual contention, that certain maxims of right reason seem to be tacitly settled amongst the most ignorant. The learned have improved on this rude science, and reduced those maxims into a system. If taste has not been so happily cultivated, it was not that the subject was barren, but that the labourers were few or negligent ; for, to say the truth, there are not the same in- teresting motives to impel us to fix the one, which urge us to ascertain the other. And, after all, if men differ in their opinion concerning such matters, their difference is not attended with the same important consequences ; else I make no doubt but that the logic of taste, if I may be allowed the expression, might very pos- sibly be as well digested, and we might come to discuss matters of 566 INTRODUCTION : this nature with as much certainty, as those which seem more immediately within the province of mere reason. And, indeed, it is very necessary, at the entrance into such an inquiry as our present, to make this point as clear as possible ; for if taste has no fixed principles, if the imagination is not aifected according to some invariable and certain laws, our labour is likely to be em- ployed to very little purpose ; as it must be judged an useless, if not an absurd undertaking, to lay down rules for caprice, and to set up for a legislator of whims and fancies. The term taste, like all other figurative terms, is not extremely accurate ; the thing .which we understand by it is far from a simple and determinate idea in the minds of most men, and it is therefore liable to uncertainty and confusion. I have no great opinion of a definition, the, celebrated remedy for the cure of this disorder^ For, when we {define, we seem in danger of circumscribing nature within the bounds of our own notions, which we often take up by hazard, or emb)-ace on trust, or form out of a limited and partial consideration^f the object before us ; instead of extending our ideas to taJKs in all that nature comprehends, according to her manner j,i combining. We are limited in our inquiry by the strict laws to 'which we have submitted at our setting out. — '■ Circa vilem patulumque morabimur orbem, Unde pudor proferre pedem vetat aut operis lex. A definition may be very exact, and yet go but a very little way towards informing us of the nature of the thing defined ; but let the virtue of a definition be what it will, in the order of things, it seems rather to follow than to precede our inquiry, of which it ought to be considered as the result. It must be acknowledged that the methods of disquisition and teaching may be sometimes different, and on very good reason undoubtedly ; but, for my part, I am convinced that the method of teaching which approaches most nearly to the method of investigation is incomparably the best ; since, not content with serving up a few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stock on which they grew ; it tends to set the reader himself in the track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in which the author has made his own discoveries, if he should be so happy as to have made any that are valuable. But to cut off all pretence for cavilling, I mean by the word taste, no more than that faculty or those faculties of the mind, which are affected with, or which form a judgment of, the works of imagina- tion and the elegant arts. This is, I think, the most general ideal of that word, and what is the least connected with any particular theory. And my point in this inquiry is, to find whether there are ON TASTE. 567 any principles, on which the imagination is affected, so common to all, so grounded and certain, as to supply the means of reasoning satisfactorily about them. And such principles of taste I fancy there are ; however paradoxical it may seem to those, who on a superficial view imagine that there is so great a diversity of tastes, both in kind and degree, that nothing can be more indeterminate. All the natural powers in man, which I know, that are conversant about externaJ_objects, are the senses ; the imagination ; and the judgment. And first with regard to the senses! ^We do and we muiFsiippose, that as the conformation of their organs are nearly or altogether the same in all men, so the manner of perceiving external objects is in all men the same, or with little difference. We are satisfied that what appears to be light to one eye, appears light to another ; that what seems sweet to one palate, is sweet to another ; that what is dark and bitter to this man, is likewise dark and bitter to that ; and we conclude in the same manner of great and httle, hard and soft, hot and cold, rough and smooth ; and indeed of all the natural qualities and affections of bodies. If we suffer ourselves to imagine, that their senses present to different men different images of things, this sceptical proceeding will make every sort of reasoning on every subject vain and frivolous, even that sceptical reasoning itself which had persuaded us to entertain a doubt concerning the agreement of our perceptions. But as there will be little doubt that bodies present similar images to the whole species, it must necessarily be allowed, that the pleasures and the pains which every object excites in one man, it must raise in all mankind, (■ ^En^jTJ t operates naturally, simply, and by its proper powers only : for if we deny this, we must imagine that the same cause, operating in the same manner, and on subjects of t he same kind, will produce different effects ; which would be highly absurd. Eet us first consider this point in the sense of taste, and the rather as the faculty in question has taken its name from that sense. All men are agreed to call vinegar sour, honey sweet, and aloes bitter ; and as they are all agreed in finding these qualities in those objects, they do not in the least differ concerning their effects with regard to pleasure and pain. They all concur in calling sweetness pleasant, and sourness and bitterness unpleasant. Here there is no diversity in their sentiments ; and that there is not, appears fully from the consent of all men in the metaphors which are taken from the sense of taste. A sour temper, bitter expressions, bitter curses, a bitter fate, are terms well and strongly understood by all. And we are altogether as well understood when we say, a sweet disposition, a sweet person, a sweet condition, and the like. It is confessed, that custom and some other causes have made many deviations from the 568 INTRODUCTION : natural pleasures or pains which belong to these several tastes ; but then the power of distinguishing between the natural and the acquired relish remains to the very last. A man frequently comes to prefer the taste of tobacco to that of sugar, and the flavour of vinegar to that of milk ; but this makes no confusion in tastes, whilst he is sensible that the tobacco and vinegar are not sweet, and whilst he knows that habit alone has reconciled his palate to these alien pleasures. Even with such a person we may speak, and with sufficient precision, concerning tastes. But should any man be found who declares, that to him tobacco has a taste like sugar, and that he cannot distinguish between milk and vinegar ; or that tobacco and vinegar are sweet, milk bitter, and sugar sour ; we immediately conclude that the organs of this man are out of order, and that his palate is utterly vitiated. We are as far from con- ferring with such a person upon tastes, as from reasoning concern- ing the relations of quantity with one who should deny that all the parts together were equal to the whole. We do not call a man of this kind wrong in his notions, but absolutely mad. Exceptions of this sort, in either way, do not at all impeach our general rule, nor make us conclude that men have various principles concerning the relations of quantity or the taste of things. So that when it is said, taste cannot be disputed, it can only mean, that no one can strictly answer what pleasure or pain some particular man may find from the taste of some particular thing. This indeed cannot be dis- puted ; but we may dispute, and with sufficient clearness too, con- cerning the things which are naturally pleasing or disagreeable to the sense. But when we talk of any peculiar or acquired relish, then we must know the habits, the prejudices, or the distempers of this particular man, and we must draw our conclusion from those. This agreement of mankind is not confined to the taste solely. The principle of pleasure derived from sight is the same in all. Light is more pleasing than darkness. Summer, when the earth is clad in green, when the heavens are serene and bright, is more agreeable than winter, when every thing makes a different appear- ance. I never remember that any thing beautiful, whether a man, a beast, a bird, or a plant, was ever shown, though it were to a hundred people, that they did not all immediately agree that it was beautiful, though some might have thought that it fell short of their expectation, or that other things were still finer. I believe no man thinks a goose to be more beautiful than a swan, or imagines that what they call a Friesland hen excels a peacock. It must be observed too, that the pleasures of the sight are not near so com- plicated, and confused, and altered by unnatural habits and associa- tions, as the pleasures of the taste are ; because the pleasures of the ON TASTE, 569 sight more commonly acquiesce in themselves ; and are not so often altered by considerations which are independent of the sight itself. But things do not spontaneously present themselves to the palate as they do to the sight ; they are generally applied to it, either as food or as medicine ; and from the qualities which they possess for nutritive or medicinal purposes, they often form the palate by degrees, and by force of these associations. Thus opium is pleasing to Turks, on account of the agreeable delirium it produces. Tobacco is the delight of Dutchmen, as it diffuses a torpor and pleasing stupefaction. Fermented spirits please our common peo- ple, because they banish care, and all consideration of future or present evils. AH of these would lie absolutely neglected if their properties had originally gone no further than the taste ; but all these, together with tea and coffee, and some other things, have passed from the apothecary's shop to our tables, and were taken for health long before they were thought of for pleasure. The effect of the drug has made us use it frequently ; and frequent use, combined with the agreeable effect, has made the taste itself at last agreeable. But this does not in the least perplex our reasoning ; because we distinguish to the last the acq uire d from the natural relish. In describing the taste of an unknown fruit, you would scarcely say that it had a sweet and pleasant flavour like tobacco, opium, or garlic, although you spoke to those who were in the constant use of these drugs, and had great pleasure in them. There is in all men a sufficient remembrance of the original natural causes of pleasure, to enable them to bring all things offered to their senses to that standard, and to regulate their feelings and opinions by it. Suppose one who had so vitiated his palate as to take more pleasure in the taste of opium than in that of butter or honey, to be presented with a bolus of squills ; there is hardly any doubt but that he would prefer the butter or honey to this nauseous morsel, or to any other bitter drug to which he had not been accustomed ; which proves that his palate was naturally like that of other men in all things, that it is still like the palate of other men in many things, and only vitiated in some particular points. For in judging of any new thing, even of a taste similar to that which he has been formed by habit to like, he finds his palate affected in the natural manner, and on the common principles. Thus the pleasure of all the senses, of the sight, and even of the taste, that most ambiguous of the senses, is the same in all, high and low, learned and unlearned. Besides the ideas, with their annexed pains and pleasures, which are presented by the sense ; the mind of man possesses a sort of creative power of its own ; either in representing at pleasure the images of things in the order and manner in which they were ^70 INTKODUCTION : received by the senses, or in combining those images in a new man- ner, and according to a different order. This power is called imagination ; and to this belongs whatever is called wit, fancy, invention, and the like. But it must be observed, that this power of the imagination is incapable of producing any thing absolutely new ; it can only vary the disposition of those ideas which it has received from the senses. Now the imagination is the most exten- sive province of pleasure and pain, as it is the region of our fears and our hopes, and of all our passions that are connected with them ; and whatever is calculated to affect the imagination with these commanding ideas, by force of any original natural impression, must have the same power pretty equally over all men. For since the imagination is only the representation of the senses, it can only be pleased or displeased with the images, from the same principle on which the sense is pleased or displeased with the realities ; and consequently there must be just as close an agreement in the imaginations as in the senses of men. A little attention will con- vince us that this must of necessity be the case. But in the imagination, besides the pain or pleasure arising from the properties of the natural object, a pleasure is perceived from the resemblance which the imitation has to the original: the imagi- nation, I conceive, can have no pleasure but what results from one or other of these causes. And these causes operate pretty uniformly upon all men, because they operate by principles in nature, and which are not derived from any particular habits or advantages. Mr. Locke very justly and finely observes of wit, that it is chiefly conversant in tracing resemblances : he remarks, at the same time, that the business of judgment is rather in finding differences. It may perhaps appear, on this supposition, that there is no material distinction between the wit and the judgment, as they both seem to result from different operations of the same faculty of comparmg. But in reality, whether they are or are not dependent on the same power of the mind, they differ so very materially in many respects, that a perfect union of wit and judgment is one of the rarest things in the world. When two distinct objects are unlike to each other, it is only what we expect ; things are in their common way ; and therefore they make no impression on the imagination : but when two distinct objects have a resemblance, we are struck, we attend to them, and we are pleased. The mind of man has naturally a far greater alacrity and satisfaction in tracing resemblances than in searching for differences : because by making resemblances we pro- duce new images ; we unite, we create, we enlarge our stock ; but in making distinctions we offer no food at all to the imagination ; the task itself is more severe and irksome, and what pleasure we ON TASTE. 571 derive from it is something of a negative and indirect nature. A piece of news is told me in the morning ; this, merely as a piece of news, as a fact added to my stock, gives me some pleasure. In the evening I find there was nothing in it. What do I gain by this, but the dissatisfaction to find that I had been imposed upon ? Hence it is that men are much more naturally inclined to belief than to incredulity. And it is upon this principle, that the most ignorant and barbarous nations have frequently excelled in simili- tudes, comparisons, metaphors, and allegories, who have been weak and backward in distinguishing and sorting their ideas. And it is for a reason of this kind, that Homer and the oriental writers, though very fond of similitudes, and though they often strike out such as are truly admirable, seldom take care to have them exact ; that is, they are taken with the general resemblance, they paint it strongly, and they take no notice of the difference which may be found between the things compared. Now as the pleasure of resemblance is that which principally flatters the imagination, all men are nearly equal in this point, as far as their knowledge of the things represented or compared extends. The principle of this knowledge is very much accidental, as it depends upon experience and observation, and not on the strength or weakness of any natural faculty ; and it is from this difference in knowledge, that what we commonly, though with no great exactness, call a difference in taste, proceeds. A man to whom sculpture is new, sees a barber's block, or some ordinary piece of statuary ; he is immediately struck and pleased, because he sees something like a human figure ; and, entirely taken up with this likeness, he does not at all attend to its defects. No person, I believe, at the first time of seeing a piece of imitation ever did. Some time after, we suppose that this novice lights upon a more artificial work of the same nature ; he now begins to look with contempt on what he admired at first ; not that he admired it even then for its unlikeness to a man, but for that general though inaccu- rate resemblance which it bore to the human figure. What he admired at different times in these so different figures, is strictly the same ; and though his knowledge is improved, his taste is not altered. Hitherto his mistake was from a wan t of knowledge in art, and this arose from his inexperience ; but he may be still deficient from a want of knowledge in nature. For it is possible that the man in question may stop here, and that the master-piece of a great hand may please him no more than the middling performance of a vulgar artist ; and this not for want of better or higher relish, but because all men do not observe with sufficient accuracy on the human figure to enable them to judge properly of an imitation of it. 572 INTRODUCTION : And that the critical taste does not depend upon a superior principle in men, but upon superior knowledge, may appear from several instances. The story of the ancient painter and the shoemaker is very well known. The shoemaker set the painter right with regard to some mistakes he had made in the shoe of one of his figures, which the painter, who had not made such accurate observations on shoes, and was content with a general resemblance, had never observed. But this was no impeachment to the taste of the painter; it only showed some want of knowledge in the art of making shoes. Let us imagine, that an anatomist had come into the painter's working-room. His piece is in general well done, the figure in question in a good attitude, and the parts well adjusted to their various movements ; yet the anatomist, critical in his art, may observe the swell of some muscle not quite just in the peculiar action of the figure. Here the anatomist observes what the painter had not observed ; and he passes by what the shoemaker had remarked. But a want of the last critical knowledge in anatomy no more reflected on the natural good taste of the painter, or of any common observer of his piece, than the want of an exact know- ledge in the formation of a shoe. A fine piece of a decollated head of St. John the Baptist was shown to a Turkish emperor: he praised many things, but he observed one defect ; he observed that the skin did not shrink from the wounded part of the neck. The sultan on this occasion, though his observation was very just, dis- covered no more natural taste than the painter who executed this piece, or than a thousand European connoisseurs, who probably never would have made the same observation. His Turkish majesty had indeed been well acquainted with that terrible spectacle, which the others could only have represented in their imagination. On the subject of their dislike there is a difference between all these people, arising from the different kinds and degrees of their know- ledge ; but there is something in common to the painter, the shoe- maker, the anatomist, and the Turkish emperor, the pleasure arising ' from a natural object, so far as each perceives it justly imitated : the satisfaction in seeing an agreeable figure ; the sympathy pro- ceeding from a striking and affecting incident. So far as taste is natural, it is nearly common to all. In poetry, and other pieces of imagination, the same parity may be observed. It is true, that one man is charmed with Don Belliar nis, and reads Virgil coldly ; whilst another is transported with the ^neid, and leaves Don Bellianis to children. These two men seem to have a taste very different from each other ; but in fact they differ very little. In both these pieces, which inspire such opposite sentiments, a tale exciting admiration is told ; both are full of ON TASTE. 573 action, both are passionate ; in both are voyages, battles, triumphs, and continual changes of fortune. The admirer of Don Bellianis perhaps does not understand the refined language of the .^neid, who, if it was degraded into the style of the " Pilgrim's Progress," might feel it in all its energy, on the same principle which made him an admirer of Don Bellianis. In his favourite author he is not shocked with the continual breaches of probability, the confusion of times, the offences against manners, the trampling upon geography; for he knows nothing of geography and chronology, and he has never examined the grounds of probability. He perhaps reads of a shipwreck on the coast of Bohemia : wholly taken up with so interesting an event, and only solicitous for the fate of his hero, he is not in the least troubled at this extravagant blunder. For why should he be shocked at a shipwreck on the coast of Bohemia, who does not know but that Bohemia may be an island in the Atlantic ocean ? and after all, what reflection is this on the natural good taste of the person here supposed ? So far then as taste belongs to the imagination, its principle is the same in all men ; there is no difference in the manner of their being affected, nor in the causes of the affection ; but in the degree there is a difference, which arises from two causes principally ; either from a greater degree of natural sensibility, or from a closer and longer attention to the object. To illustrate this by the procedure of the senses, in which the same difference is found, let us suppose a very smooth marble table to be set before two men ; they both perceive it to be smooth, and they are both pleased with it because of this quality. So far they agree. But suppose an- other, and after that another table, the latter still smoother than the former, to be set before them. It is now very probable that these men, who are so agreed upon what is smooth, and in the pleasure from thence, will disagree when they come to settle which table has the advantage in point of polish. Here is indeed the great difference between tastes, when men come to compare the excess or diminution of things which are judged by degree and not by measure. Nor is it easy, when such a difference arises, to settle the point, if the excess or diminution be not glaring. If we differ in opinion about two quantities, we can have recourse to a common measure, which may decide the question with the utmost exact- ness ; and this, I take it, is what gives mathematical knowledge a greater certainty than any other. But in things whose excess is not judged by greater or smaller, as smoothness and roughness, hardness and softness, darkness and light, the shades of colours, all 574 INTRODUCTION : these are very easily distinguished when the difference is any way considerable, but not when it is minute, for want of some cpmtnon measures, which perhaps may never come to be discovered. 'In these nice cases, supposing the acuteness of the sense equal, the greater attention and habit in such things will have the advan- tage. In the question about the tables, the marble-polisher will unquestionably determine the most accurately. But notwithstand- ing this want of a common measure for settling many disputes relative to the senses, and their representative the imagination, we find that the prinfiiples are the same in all, and that there is no disagreement until we come~to examine into the pre-eminence or difference of things, which brings us within the province of the judgment. So long as we are conversant with the sensible qualities of things, hardly any more than the imagination seems concerned; little more also than the imagination seems concerned when the passions are represented, because by the force of natural sympathy they are felt in all men without any recourse to reasoning, and their justness recognized in every breast. Love, grief, fear, anger, joy, all these passions have, in their turns, affected every mind ; and they do not affect it in an arbitrary or casual manner, but upon certain, natural, and uniform principles. But as many of the works of imagination are not confined to the representation of sensible objects, nor to effoi-ts upon the passions, but extend themselves to the manners, the characters, the actions, and designs of men, their relations, their virtues and vices, they come within the province of the judg- ment, which is improved by attention, and by the habit of reasoning. All these make a very considerable part of what are considered as the objects of taste ; and Horace sends us to the schools of philo- sophy and the world for our instruction in them. Whatever certainty is to be acquired in morahty and the science of life ; just the same degree of certainty have we in what relates to them in works of imitation. Indeed it is for the most part in our skill in manners, and in the observances of time and place, and of decency in general, which is only to be learned in those schools to which Horace recommends us, that what is called taste, by way of distinction, consists : and which is in reality no other than a more refined judgment. On the whole, it appears to me, that what is called taste, in its most general acceptation, is not a simple idea, but is partly made up of a perception of the primary pleasures of sense, of the secondary pleasures of the imagination, and of the conclusions of the reasoning faculty, concerning the various relations of these, and concerning tKe human passions, manners, ON TASTE. 575 and actions. All this is requisite to form taste, and the ground- work of all these is the same in the human mind ; for^as the senses are the great originals o lalLour, ideas, an d conseq uently of all our pleasures, if they are not uncertain and arbitrary, the whole ground- work~of taste its; common to all, and therefore there is a sufficient foundation for a conclusive reasoning on these matters. Whilst we consider taste merely according to its nature and species, we shall find its principles entirely uniform ; but the degree in which these principles prevail, in the several individuals of man- kind, is altogether as different as the principles themselves are similar. For sensibility and judgment, which are the qualities that compose what we commonly call a taste, vary exceedingly in various people. From a defect in the former of these qualities arises a want of taste ; a weakness in the latter constitutes a wrong or a bad one. There are some men formed with feelings so blunt, with tempers so cold and phlegmatic, that they can hardly be said to be awake during the whole course of their lives. Upon such persons the most striking objects make but a faint and obscure impression. There are others so continually in the agitation of gross and merely sensual pleasures, or so occupied in the low drudgery of avarice, or so heated in the chase of honours and distinction, that their minds, which had been used continually to the storms of these violent and tempestuous passions, can hardly be put in motion by the delicate and refined play of the imagination. These men, though from a different cause, become as stupid and insensible as the former ; but whenever either of these happen to be struck with any natural elegance or greatness, or with these qualities in any work of art, they are moved upon the same principle. The cause of a wrong taste is a defect of judgment. And this may arise from a natural weakness of understanding (in whatever the strength of that faculty may consist), or, which is much more commonly the case, it may arise from a want of a proper and well- directed exercise, which alone can make it strong and ready. Besides that ignorance, inattention, prejudice, rashness, levity, obstinacy, in short, all those passion^, SnJ all those vices, which pervert the judgment in other matters^.'prejj^^fc itiSio less in this its more refined and elegant province. 1^89 causes produce different opinions upon every thing which pap, ob^eet of the under- standing, without inducing us to suppose that there afe no settled principles of reason. And indeed, on the whole, one may observe, that there is rather less difference upon naatters of tfiste among mankind, than upon most of those which depend upon the naked 576 INTRODUCTION : reason ; and that men are far better agreed on the excellence of a description in Virgil, than on the truth or falsehood of a theory of Aristotle. A rectitude of judgment in the arts, which may be called a good taste, does in a great measure depend upon sensibility ; because if the mind has no bent to the pleasures of the imagination, it wiU never apply itself sufficiently to works of that species to acquire a competent knowledge in them. But though a degree of sensibility is requisite to form a good judgment, yet a good judgment does not necessarily arise from a quick sensibility of pleasure ; it fre- quently happens that a very poor judge, merely by force of a greater complexional sensibility, is more affected by a very poor piece, than the best judge by the most perfect ; for as every thing new, extraordinary, grand, or passionate, is well calculated to affect such a person, and that the faults do not affect him, his pleasure is more pure and unmixed ; and as it is merely a pleasure of the imagination, it is much higher than any which is derived from a rectitude of the judgment ; the judgment is for the greater part employed in throvring stumbling-blocks in the way of the imagina- tion, in dissipating the scenes of its enchantment, and in tying us down to the disagreeable yoke of our reason : for almost the only pleasure that men have in judging better than others, con- sists in a sort of conscious pride and superiority, which arises from thinking rightly ; but then this is an indirect pleasure, a pleasure which does not immediately result from the object which is under contemplation. In the morning of our days, when the senses are unworn and tender, when the whole man is awake in every part, and the gloss of novelty fresh upon all the objects that surround us, how lively at that time are our sensations, but how false and inaccurate the judgments we form of things ! I despair of ever receiving the same degree of pleasure from the most excellent per- formances of genius, which I felt at that age from pieces which my present judgment regards as trifling and contemptible. Every trivial cause of pleasure is apt to affect the man of too sanguine a complexion: his appetite is too keen to suffer his taste to be delicate ; and he is in all respects what Ovid says of himself in love, , Molle meum leribus cor est violabile telis, Et semper causa est, cur ego semper amem. One of this character can never be a refined judge ; never what the comic poet calls elegans formarum spectator. The excellence and force of a composition must always be imperfectly estimated from its effects on the minds of any, except we know the temper and ON TASTE. ^' ' character of those minds. The most powerful effects of poetry and music have been displayed, and perhaps are still displayed, where these arts are but in a very low and imperfect state. The rude hearer is affected by the principles which operate in these arts even in their rudest condition ; and he is not skilful enough to perceive the defects. But as the arts advance towards their perfection, the science of criticism advances with equal pace, and the pleasure oi judges is frequently interrupted by the faults which are discovered in the most finished compositions. Before I leave this subject, I cannot help taking notice of an opinion which many persons entertain, as if the taste were a separate faculty of the mind, and distinct from the judgment and imagination ; a species of instinct, by which we are struck naturally, and at the first glance, without any previous reasoning, with the excellences or the defects of a composition. So far as the imagination and the passions are concerned, I beheve it true, that the reason is little consulted; but where disposition, where decorum, where congruity are concerned, in short, wherever the fb^st taste differs from the worst, I am convinced that the under- standing operates, and nothing else ; and its operation is in reality far from being always sudden, or, when it is sudden, it is often far from being right. Men of the best taste by consideration come frequently to change these early and precipitate judgments, which the mind, from its aversion to neutrality and doubt, loves to form on the spot. It is known that the taste (whatever it is) is improved exactly as we improve our judgment, by extending our knowledge, by a steady attention to our object, and by frequent exercise. They who have not taken these methods, if their taste decides quickly, it is always uncertainly ; and their quickness is owing to their presumption and rashness, and not to any sudden irradiation, that in a moment dispels all darkness from their minds. But they who have cultivated that species of knowledge which makes the object of taste, by degrees and habitually attain not only a soundness but a readiness of judgment, as men do by the same methods on all other occasions. At first they are obliged to spell, but at last they read with ease and with celerity ; but this celerity of its operation is no proof that the taste is a distinct faculty. Nobody, I believe, has attended the course of a discussion which turned upon matters within the sphere of mere naked reason, but must have observed the extreme readiness with which the whole process of the argument is carried on, the grounds discovered, the objections raised and answered, and the conclusions drawn from premises, with a quickness altogether as great as the taste can bo supposed to work with ; and yet where nothing but plain reason VOL. II. p p 578 INTKODUCTION. either is or can be suspected to Operate. To multiply principles for every different appearance is useless, and unphilosophical too in a high degree. This matter might be pursued much farther ; but it is not the extent of the subject which must prescribe our bounds, for what subject does not branch out to infinity ? It is the nature of our particular scheme, and the single point of view in which we consider it, which ought to put a stop to our researches. A PHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRY INTO THE OEIGIN OE OTJE IDEAS SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL. PART L SECTION I. Novelty. The first and the simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind is curiosity. By curiosity I mean whatever desire we have for, or whatever pleasure we take in, novelty. We see children perpetually running from place to place, to hunt out something new : they catch with great eagerness, and with very little choice, at whatever comes before them ; their attention is engaged by every thing, because every thing has, in that stage of life, the charm of novelty to recommend it. But as those things, which engage us merely by their novelty, cannot attach us for any length of time, curiosity is the most superficial of all the affections ; it changes its object perpetually ; it has an appetite which is very sharp, but very easily satisfied ; and it has always an appearance of giddiness, restlessness, and anxiety. Curiosity, from its nature, is a very active principle ; it quickly runs over the greatest part of its objects, and soon exhausts the variety which is commonly to be met with in nature ; the same things make frequent returns, and they return with less and less of any agreeable effect. In short, the occurrences of life, by the time we come to know it a little, would be incapable of affecting the mind with any other sensations than those of loathing and weariness, if many things were not adapted to aifect the mind by means of other powers besides novelty in them, and of other passions besides curiosity in ourselves. These powers p p 2 580 ON THE SUBLIME and passions shall be considered in their place. But, whatever these powers are, or upon what principle soever they affect te mind, it is absolutely necessary that they should not be exerted in those things which a daily and vulgar use have brought into a stale unaffecting familiarity. Some degree of novelty must be one of the materials in every instrument which works upon the mind ; and curiosity blends itself more or less with all our passions. SECTION II. Pain and Pleasure. It seems, then, necessary towards moving the passions of people advanced in life to any considerable degree, that the objects designed for that purpose, besides their being in some measure new, should be capable of exciting pain or pleasure from other causes. Pain andpleasure^are simple ideas, incapable of dejinition. People afe~not liable to be mistalienlirtKeir feelings, but they are very frequently wrong in the names they give them, and in their reasonings about them. Many are of opinion, that pain arises necessarily from the removal of some pleasure; as they think pleasure does from the ceasing or diminution of some pain. For my part, I am rather inclined to imagine, that pain and pleasure, in their most simple and natural manner of affecting, are each of a posi- tive nature, and by no means necessarily dependent on each other for their existence. The human mind is often, and I think it is for the most part, in a state neither of pain nor pleasure, which I call a state of indifference. When I am carried from this state into a state of actual pleasure, it does not appear necessary that I should pass through the medium of any sort of pain. If in such a state of indifference, or ease, or tranquillity, or call it what you please, you were to be suddenly entertained with a concert of music ; or suppose some object of a fine shape, and bright, lively colours, to be presented before you ; or imagine your smell is gratified with the fragrance of a rose ; or if, without any previous thirst, you were to drink of some pleasant kind of wine, or to taste of some sweetmeat without being hungry ; in all the several senses, of hearing, smelling, and tasting, you undoubtedly find a pleasure ; yet, if I inquire into the state of your mind previous to these grati- fications, you will hardly tell me that they found you in any kind of pain ; or, having satisfied these several senses with their several pleasures, will you say that any pain has succeeded, though the pleasure is absolutely over ! Suppose, on the other hand, a man in the same state of indifference to receive a violent blow, or to drink AND BEAUTIFUL. 581 of some bitter potion, or to have his ears wounded with some harsh and grating sound ; here is no removal of pleasure ; and yet here is felt, in every sense which is affected, a pain very distinguishable. It may be said, perhaps, that the pain in these cases had its rise from the removal of the pleasure which the man enjoyed before, though that pleasure was of so low a degree as to be perceived only by the removal. But this seems to me a subtilty that is not discoverable in nature. For if, previous to the pain, I do not feel any actual pleasure, I have no reason to judge that any such thing exists ; since pleasure is only pleasure as it is felt. The same may be said of pain, and with equal reason. I can never persuade myself that pleasure and pain are mere relations, which can only exist as they are contrasted ; but I think I can discern clearly that there are positive pains and pleasures, which do not at all depend upon each other. Nothing is more certain to my own feelings than this. There is nothing which I can distinguish in my mind with more clearness than the three states, of indifference, of pleasure, and of pain. Every one of these I can perceive without any sort of idea of its relation to any thing else. Caius is afflicted with a fit of the colic ; this man is actually in pain ; stretch Oaius upon the rack, he will feel a much greater pain : but does this pain of the rack arise from the removal of any pleasure ! or is the fit of the colic a pleasure or a pain just as we are pleased to consider it ? SECTION III. The Difference between the removal of Pain, and Positive Pleasure. We shall carry this proposition yet a step further. We shall venture to propose, that pain and pleasure are not only not neces- sarily dependent for their existence on their mutual diminution or removal, but that, in reality, the diminution or ceasing of pleasure does not operate like positive pain ; and that the removal or dimi- nution of pain, in its effect, has very little resemblance to positive pleasure '. The former of these propositions will, I believe, be much more readily allowed than the latter ; because it is very evident that pleasure, when it has run its career, sets us down very nearly where it found us. Pleasure of every kind quickly satisfies ; and, when it is over, we relapse into indifference, or, rather, we fall into a soft tranquillity, which is tinged with the agreeable colour of the former sensation. I own it is not at first view so apparent that the removal of a great pain does not resemble positive pleasure ; ' Mr. Locke [Essay on Human Understanding, 1. ii. o. 20, sect. 16,] thinks that the removal or lessening of a pain is considered and operates as a pleasure, and the loss or diminishing of pleasure as a pain. It is this opinion which we consider here. 582 ON THE SUBLIME but let us recollect in what state we have found our minds upon escaping some imminent danger, or on being released from tne severity of some cruel pain. We have on such occasions found, i I am not much mistaken, the temper of our minds in a tenor very remote from that which attends the presence of positive pleasure ; we have found them in a state of much sobriety, impressed with a sense of awe, in a sort of tranquillity shadowed with horror. The fashion of the countenance and the gesture of the body on such occasions is so . correspondent to this state of mind, that any person, a stranger to the cause of the appearance, would rather judge us under some consternation, than in the enjoyment of any thing like positive pleasure. 'Qc S' orav dvSp' arr] ■nrvKivrj Xa^9, 'oar' ivi Trdrpy {■lUT-a KaraKTUvaq, ahXiiiv IJiKero drj/iov, 'AvSpbg tc dipvtioVj QdfipoQ 8' £;^£t iiaopotavraQ. IHad. Q. 480. " As when a wretch, who, conscious of his crime, Pursued for murder from his native clime, Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amazed ; All gaze, all wonder ! " This striking appearance of the man whom Homer supposes to have just escaped an imminent danger, the sort of mixed passion of terror and surprise, with which he affects the spectators, paints very strongly the manner in which we find ourselves affected upon occasions any way similar. For when we have suffered from any violent emotion, the mind naturally continues in something like the same condition, after the cause which first produced it has ceased to operate. The tossing of the sea remains after the storm ; and when this remain of horror has entirely subsided, all the passion which the accident raised subsides along with it; and the mind returns to its usual state of indifference. In short, pleasure (I mean any thing either in the inward sensation, or in the outward appearance, like pleasure from a positive cause) has never, I imagine, its origin from the removal of pain or danger. SECTION IV. Of Delight and Pleasure, as opposed to each other. But shall we therefore say, that the removal of pain or its dimi- nution is always simply painful ? or afiirni that the cessation or the lessening of pleasure is always attended itself with a pleasure ? By no means. What I advance is no more than this ; first, that there are pleasures and pains of a positive and independent nature ; and, secondly, that the feeujig which results from the ceasing or AND BEAUTIFUL. 583 diminution of pain does not bear a sufficient resemblance to positive pleasure, to have it considered as of the same nature, or to entitle it to be known by the same name ; and thirdly, that upon the same principle the removal or qualification of pleasure has no resem- blance to positive pain. It is certain that the former feeling (the removal or moderation of pain) has something in it far from dis- tressing, or disagreeable in its nature. This feeling, in many cases so agreeable, but in all so different from positive pleasure, has no name which I know ; but that hinders not its being a very real one, and very different from all others. It is most certain, that every species of satisfaction or pleasure, how different soever in its manner of affecting, is of a positive nature in the mind of him who feels it. The affection is undoubtedly positive ; but the cause may be, as in this case it certainly is, a sort of privation. And it is very reasonable that we should distinguish by some term two things so distinct in nature, as a pleasure that is such simply, and without any relation, from that pleasure which cannot exist without a relation, and that, too, a relation to pain. Very extraordinary it would be, if these affections, so distinguishable in their causes, so different in their effects, should be confounded with each other, because vulgar use has ranged them under the same general title. Whenever I have occasion to speak of this species of relative pleasure, I call it delight ; and I shall take the best care I can to use that word in no other sense. I am satisfied the word is not commonly used in this appropriated signification ; but I thought it better to take up a word already known, and to limit its signi- fication, than to introduce a new one, which would not perhaps incorporate so well with the language. I should never have pre- sumed the least alteration in our words, if the nature of the language, framed for the purposes of business rather than those of philosophy, and the nature of my subject, that leads me out of the common track of discourse, did not in a inanner necessitate me to it. I shall make use of this liberty with all possible caution. As I make use of the word delight to express the sensation which accom- panies the removal of pain or danger, so, when I speak of positive pleasure, I shall for the most part call it simply pleasure. SECTION V. ^ Joi/ and Grief. It must be observed, that the cessation of pleasure affects the mind three ways. If it simply ceases, after having continued a proper time, the effect is indifference ; if it be abruptly broken off, there 584 ON THE SUBLIME ensues an uneasy sense called disappointment; if the object be so totally lost that there is no chance of enjoying it again, a passion arises in the mind which is called grief. Now there is none oi these, not even grief, which is the most violent, that I think has any resemblance to positive pain. The person who grieves sutlers his passions to grow upon him ; he indulges it, he loves it : out this never happens in the case of actual pain, which no man ever willingly endured for any considerable time. That grief should be willingly endured though far from a simply pleasing sensation, is not so difficult to be understood. It is the nature of grief to keep its object perpetually in its eye, to present it in its most pleasurable views, to repeat all the circumstances that attend it, even to the last minuteness; to go back to every particular enjoyment, to dwell upon each, and to find a thousand new perfections in all, that were not sufficiently understood before ; in grief, the pleasure is still uppermost ; and the affliction we suffer has no resemblance to absolute pain, which is always odious, and which we endeavour to shake off as soon as possible. The Odyssey of Homer, which abounds with so many natural and affecting images, has none more striking than those which Menelaus raises of the calamitous fate of his friends, and his own manner of feeling it. He owns, indeed, that he often gives himself some intermission from such melancholy reflections ; but he observes, too, that, melancholy as they are, they give him pleasure. 'AW l/t?r)j5 irdvTaQ fiiv 6Svi)6fievoe Kal dxfviov, TloWaKii iv iiiydpoiiri naBriiievoe rmiTipoiaiv, 'AWoTt fikv Tt yoif ippiva rlpTro/toi, aXKoTt S' avre Tlavo/iai' al\j/rip6g Si Kopoj Kpvspato 70010. Horn. Od. A. 100. " Still in short intervals of pleasing woe, Regardful of the friendly dues I owe, I to the glorious dead, for ever dear. Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear." On the other hand, when we recover our health, when we escape an imminent danger, is it with joy that we are affected ? The sense on these occasions is far from that smooth and voluptuous satis- faction which the assured prospect of pleasure bestows. The delight which arises from the modifications of pain confesses the stock from whence it sprung, in its sohd, strong, and severe nature. SECTION VI. Of the Passions which, lelong to Self-preservation. Most of the ideas which are capable of making a powerful im- pression on the mind, whether simply of pain or pleasure, or of the AND BEAUTIFUL. 585 modifications of those, may be reduced very nearly to these two heads, self-preservation and society ; to the ends of one or the other of which all our passions are calculated to answer. The passions which concern self-preservation, turn mostly on pain or danger. The ideas of pain, sickness, and death, fill the mind with strong emotions of horror ; but life and health, though they put us in a capacity of being affected with pleasure, make no such impression by the simple enjoyment. The passions therefore -which are conversant about the preservation of the individual turn chiefly on pain and danger, and they are the most powerful of all the passions. SECTION VII. Of the Sublime. Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is con- versant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime ; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling. I say the strongest emotion, because I am satisfied the ideas of pain are much more powerful than those which enter on the part of pleasure. Without all doubt, the torments which we may be made to sufier are much greater in their effect on the body and mind, than any pleasures which the most learned voluptuary could suggest, or than the liveliest imagination, and the most sound and exquisitely sensi- ble body, could enjoy. Nay, I am in great doubt whether any man could be found, who would earn a life of the most perfect satisfac- tion at the price of ending it in the torments, which justice inflicted in a few hours on the late unfortunate regicide in France. But as pain is stronger in its operation than pleasure, so death is in general a much more affecting idea than pain ; because there are very few pains, however exquisite, which are not preferred to death : nay, what generally makes p3,in itself, if I may say so, more painful, is, that it is considered as an emissary of this king of terrors. When danger or pain press too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight, and are simply terrible ; but at certain distances, and witla certain modifications, they may be, and they are delightful, as we every day experience. The cause pf this I shall endeavour to investigate hereafter. SECTION VIII. Oftlie Passions which belong to Society. The other head under which I class our passions, is that of society, which may be divided into two sorts. 1. The society of the sexes. 586 ON THE SUBLIME which answers the purpose of propagation ; and next, that more general society, which we have with men and with other animals, and which we may in some sort be said to have even with the inanimate world. The passions belonging to the preservation of the individual turn wholly on pain and danger : those which belong to generation have their origin in gratifications and pleasures ; the pleasure most directly belonging to this purpose is of a lively character, rapturous and violent, and contessedly the highest pleasure of sense ; yet the absence of this so great an enjoyment scarce amounts to an uneasiness ; and, except at particular times, I do not think it affects at all. When men describe in what manner they are affected by pain and danger, they do not dwell on the pleasure of health and the comfort of security, and then lament the loss of these satisfac- tions : the whole turns upon the actual pains and horrors which they endure. But if you listen to the complaints of a forsaken lover, you observe that he insists largely on the pleasures which he enjoyed, or hoped to enjoy, and on the perfection of the object of his desires ; it is the loss which is always uppermost ai his mind. "' The Vjolent effects produced by love, whiffff'has sometimes been even wrou^t up to madness, is no objection to the rule which we seek to esta- blish. When men have suffered their imaginations to be long affected with any idea, it so wholly engrosses them as to shut out by degrees almost every other, and to break down every partition of the mind which would confine it. Any idea is sufficient for the purpose, as is evident from the infinite variety of causes, which give rise to madness : but this at most can only prove, that the passion of love is capable of producing very extraordinary effects, not that its extraordinary emotions have any connexion with positive pain. SECTION IX. The Final Cause of the Difference between the Passions belonging to Self-preservation, and those which regard the Society of the Sexes. The final cause of the difference in character between the passions which regard self-preservation, and those which are directed to the multiplication of the species, will illustrate the foregoing remarks yet further ; and it is, I imagine, worthy of observation even upon its own account. As the performance of our duties of every kind depends upon life, and the performing them with vigour and efficacy depends upon health, we are very strongly affected with whatever threatens the destruction of either : but as we were not made to acquiesce in life and health, the simple enjoyment of them is not attended with any real pleasure, lest, satisfied with that, we should give ourselves over to indolence and inaction. On the other hand, AND BEAUTIFUL. 587 the generation of mankind is a great purpose, and it is requisite that men should be animated to the pursuit of it by some great incentive. It is therefore attended with a very high pleasure ; but as it is by no means designed to be our constant business, it is not fit that the absence of this pleasure should be attended vs^ith any considerable pain. The difference between men and brutes, in this point, seems to be remarkable. Men are at all times pretty equally disposed to the pleasures of love, because they are to be guided by reason in the time and manner of indulging them. Had any great pain arisen from the want of this satisfaction, reason, I am afraid, would find great difficulties in the performance of its office. But brutes that obey laws, in the execution of which their own reason has but little share, have their stated seasons ; at such times it is not improbable that the sensation from the want is very trouble- some, because the end must be then answered, or be missed in many, perhaps for ever ; as the inclination returns only with its season. SECTION X. Of Beauty. The passion which belongs to generation, merely as such, is lust only. This is evident in brutes, whose passions are more unmixed, and which pursue their purposes more directly than ours. The only distinction they observe with regard to their mates, is that of sex. It is true, that they stick severally to their own species in preference to all others. But this preference, I imagine, does not arise from any sense of beauty which they find in their species, as Mr. Addison supposes, but from a law of some other kind, to which they are subject ; and this we may fairly conclude, from their apparent want of choice amongst those objects to which the barriers of their species have confined them. But man, who is a creature adapted to a greater variety and intricacy of relation, connects with the general passion the idea of some social qualities, which direct and heighten the appetite which he has in common with all other animals ; and as he is not designed like them to live at large, it is fit that he should have something to create a preference, and fix his choice ; and this in general should be some sensible quality ; as no other can so quickly, so powerfully, or so surely produce its effect. The object therefore of this mixed passion, which we call love, is the heawly of the sex. Men are carried to the sex in general, as it is the sex, and by the common law of nature ; but they are attached to particulars by personal heauty. I call beauty a social quality ; for wEere women and men, and not only they, but when other 588 ON THE SUBLIME animals give us a sense of joy and pleasure in beholding them (and there are many that do so), they inspire us with sentiments of ten- derness and affection towards their persons ; we like to have them near us, and we enter willingly into a kind of relation with them, unless we should have strong reasons to the contrary. But to what end, in many cases, this was designed, I am unable to discover ; lor I see no greater reason for a connexion between man and several animals who are attired in so engaging a manner, than between him and some others, who entirely want this attraction, or possess it in a far weaker degree. But it is probable that Providence did not make even this distinction, but with a view to some great end ; though we cannot perceive distinctly what it is, as his wisdom is not our wisdom, nor our ways his ways. SECTION XL Society and Solitude. The second branch of the social passions is that which administers to society in general. With regard to this, I observe, that society, merely as society, without any particular heightenings, gives us no positive pleasure in the enjoyment ; but absolute and entire soli- tude, that is, the total and perpetual exclusion from all society, is as great a positive pain as can almost be conceived. Therefore in the balance between the pleasure of general society, and the pain of absolute solitude, pain is the predominant idea. But the pleasure of any particular social enjoyment outweighs very considerably the uneasiness caused by the want of that particular enjoyment ; so that the strongest sensations relative to the habitudes of particular society are sensations of pleasure. Good company, lively conversa- tions, and the endearments of friendship, fill the mind with great pleasure ; a temporary solitude, on the other hand, is itself agree- able. This may perhaps prove that we are creatures designed for contemplation as well as action ; since solitude as well as society has its pleasures ; as from the former observation we may discern, that an entire life of solitude contradicts the purposes of our being, since death itself is scarcely an idea of more terror. SECTION XII. Sympathy, Imitation, and Ambition. Under this denomination of society, the passions are of a compli- cated kind, and branch out into a variety of forms, agreeably to AND BEAUTIFUL. 589 that variety ofCgndsjthey are to serve in the great chain of society. The three principal hnks in this chain are sympathy^ imitation^ and ambition. SECTION XIII. Sympathy. It is by the first of these passions that we enter into the concerns of others ; that we are moved as they are moved, and are never suffered to be indifferent spectators of almost any thing which men can do or suffer. For sympathy must be considered as a sort of substitution, by which we are put into the place of another man, and affected in many respects as he is affected : so that this passion may either partake of the nature of those which regard self-pre- servation, and turning upon pain may be a source of the sublime ; or it may turn upon ideas of pleasure ; and then whatever has been said of the social affections, whether they regard society in general, or only some particular modes of it, may be applicable here. It is by this principle chiefly that poetry, painting, and other affecting arts, transfuse their passions from one breast to another, and are often capable of grafting a delight on wretchedness, misery, and death itself. It is a common observation, that objects which in the reality would shock, are in tragical, and such like representa- tions, the source of a very high species of pleasure. This, taken as a fact, has been the cause of much reasoning. The satisfaction has been commonly attributed, first, to the comfort we receive in considering that so melancholy a story is no more than a fiction ; and, next, to the contemplation of our own freedom from the evils which we see represented. I am afraid it is a practice much too common in inquiries of this nature, to attribute the cause of feelings which merely arise from the mechanical structure of our bodies, or from the natural frame and constitution of our minds, to certain conclusions of the reasoning faculty on the objects pre- sented to us ; for I should imagine, that the influence of reason in producing our passions is nothing near so extensive as it is com- monly believed. SECTION XIV. The Effects of Sympathy in the Distresses of others. To examine this point concerning the effect of tragedy in a proper manner, we must previously consider how we are affected by the feelings of our fellow-creatures in circumstances of real distress. I am convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one. 590 ON THE SUBLIME in the real misfortunes and pains of others ; for let the affection be what it will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if on the contrary it - induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon them, in this case I conceive we must have a delight or pleasure of some species or other in contemplating objects oi this kind. Do we not read the authentic histories of scenes of this nature with as much pleasure as romances or poems, where the incidents are fictitious? The prosperity of no empire, nor the grandeur of no kjng, can so agreeably affect in the reading, as the ruin of the state of Macedon, and the distress of its unhappy prince. Such a catastrophe touches us in history as much as the destruction of Troy does in fable. Our delight, in cases of this kind, is very greatly heightened, if the sufferer be some excellent person who sinks under an unworthy fortune. Scipio and Cato are both virtuous characters ; but we are more deeply affected by the violent death of the one, and the ruin of the great cause he adhered to, than with the deserved triumphs and uninterrupted prosperity of the other : for terror is a passion which always produces delight when it does not press too closely ; and pity is a passion accom- panied with pleasure, because it arises from love and social affec- tion. "^'Whenever we are formed by nature to any active purpose, the passion which animates us to it is attended with delight, or a pleasure of some kind, let the subject-matter be what it will ; and as our Creator has designed that we should be united by the bond of sympathy, He~has strengthened that bond by a proportionable delight f arid there most where our sympathy is most wanted, — in the~3istresses of others. If this passion was simply painful, we would shun with the greatest care all persons and places that could excite such a passion ; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not to endure any strong impression, actually do. But the case is widely different with the greater part of mankind ; there is no spectacle we so eagerly pursue, as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity ; so that whether the misfortune is before our eyes, or whether they are turned back to it in history, it always touches with delight. This is not an unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. The delight we have in such things hinders us from shunning scenes of misery ; and the pain we feel prompts us to relieve ourselves in relieving those who suffer ; and all this antecedent to any reasoning, by an instinct that works us to its own purposes without our concurrence. AND BEAUTIFUL. 591 SECTION XV. Of the Effects of Tragedy. It is thus in real calamities. In imitated distresses the only difference is the pleasure resulting from the effects of imitation ; for it is never so perfect, but we can perceive it is imitation, and on that principle are somewhat pleased with it. And indeed in some cases we derive as much or more pleasure from that source than from the thing itself But then I imagine we shall be much mistaken if we attribute any considerable part of our satisfaction in tragedy to the consideration that tragedy is a deceit, and its representations no realities. The nearer it approaches the reality, and the further it removes us from all idea of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its power of what kind it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a day on which to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have ; appoint the most favourite actors ; spare no cost upon the scenes and decorations ; unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting, and music ; and when you have collected your audience, just at the mo- ment when their minds are erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square ; in a moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative weakness of the imitative arts, and proclai'm"tiie--fc^umph of the jreal sympathy. I believ.e ^bat this notion of our having a simple pain m the reality, yet a deligbi_,vr the reprSSfcSiiation, arises from hence, that we do not sufficiently distinguish wnSfJ; we would by no means choose to do, from what we should be eager enougfi to- s>£-s rS Jt was once done. We delight in seeing things, which so far from doing, our hearue&i; wishes would be to see redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident to have happened, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the ruins, and amongst them many who would have been content never to have seen London in its glory ! Nor is it, either in real or fictitious distresses, our immunity from them which produces our delight ; in my own mind I can discover nothing like it. I apprehend that this mistake is owing to a sort of sophism, by which we are frequently imposed upon ; it arises from our not distinguishing between what is indeed a necessary condition to our doing or suffering any thing in general, and what is the cause of some particular act. If a man 592 ON THE SUBLIME kills me with a sword, it is a necessary condition to this that we should have been both of us alive before the fact ; and yet it would be absurd to say that our being both living creatures was the cause of his crime and of my death. So it is certain that it is absolutely necessary my life should be out of any imminent hazard, before I can take a dehght in the sufferings of others, real or imaginary, or indeed in any thing else from any cause whatsoever. But then it is a sophism to argue from thence that this immunity is the cause o£ my delight either on these or on any occasions. No one can distinguish such a cause of satisfaction in his own mind, I believe ; nay, when we do not suffer any very acute pain, nor are exposed to any imminent danger of our lives, we can feel for others, whilst we suffer ourselves ; and often then most when we are softened by affliction; we see with pity even distresses which we would accept in the place of our own. SECTION XVI. Imitation. The second passion belonging to society is imitation, or, if you will, a desire of imitating, and consequently a pleasure in it. This passion arises from much the same cause with sympathy. For as sympathy makes us take a concern in whatever men feel, so this -*fi>ction prompts us to cnny w^nfo-.'cr lliey ao; and conser|uently we have a pleasure in imitating, and in whatever belongs to imita- tion merely as it is such, without any interji