', »wa ll ^'^wr;lBfe^^';V J r ■!^r■■ w ^. ^-( ^.v.■v■;^■' ^ v;" v " r r ^rv. "- ■sjw^^. ". l l; i !^'-■;■.■^r' l!! umu- i' .w KE »*«'•• -W ^fjji --*&' *5> -^rf 4*' ;TO'A-NOBLE'LOilD •'¥*■>. 3°ft *^*i. 'STANDARD '-^-^ a«5| - aEiimsStiiMf:! - CORNELL- UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Cornell University Library arV10401 Edmund Burke's Letter to a noble lord; 3 1924 031 222 346 a Cornell University y Library The original of tliis 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/cu31 924031 222346 A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD (After a painting by RoM^"E^^) EDMUND BURKE'S LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD Edited with Introduction and Notes BY ALBERT H. SMYTH fROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE PHILADELPHIA HIGH SCHOOL MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL. SOCIETY BOSTON, U.S.A. GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS Cbe 9ltl)en«nin preect 1903 Copyright, i8g8 By albert H. SMYTH ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PREFACE. The " Letter to a Noble Lord " is the best possible introduction to the study of Burke. It has brevity, force, and variety, and there is not a dull page in it. It may be made the subject of historical, biographical, and literary study. It is a clear and calm review of the great political measures of Burke's public career ; it is a proud and suffi- cient apologia ; and it is a masterpiece of golden eloquence. Alike in argument and irony, Burke rises in this instance to the height of his skill and fame. He speaks poniards, and every word stabs. Nor are the faults of his later man- ner' so painfully apparent here as in the " Reflections on the French Revolution," which preceded the "Letter," and in the "Regicide Peace," which followed it. The student of style should be taught to compare Burke's architecture of sentence and paragraph with the robust prose of Dryden and the pretentious manner of Bolingbroke. And he may institute a profitable comparison between this " Letter " and Wordsworth's superb pamphlet upon " The Convention of Cintra " — one of the crowning glories of English prose literature — and Cardinal Newman's " Apolo- gia pro vita sua," both of which derive from Burke their inspiration and their splendor. It will be seen that Burke always rests his case upon his- tory. Tradition and expediency are the lamps by which his feet are guided. In this respect, though certainly in no other, he resembles the German Hamann — whom Pusey VI PREFACE. ranked among the unintelligibles — who accepted, above all documents of human reason and analysis, the institutions and measures authenticated by history. Lest the student should be "lantern led" by the rhetoric of Burke, it is well that the text of the " Letter " should be abundantly illustrated and corrected by reference to histori- cal sources. From the wealth of easily accessible material, I may be permitted to recommend the histories of England by Lord Mahon (from the Treaty of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles), John Adolphus (from the Accession of George III to 1783), and William Massey (England during the reign of George III) ; the "Grenville Papers," "The Bedford Correspondence," "The Journals of Lord Auck- land," " Memoirs of Rockingham," " Diary and " Corre- spondence of Lord Colchester," Brougham's " Statesmen of the Reign of George III," "Parliamentary History," "The Annual Register," Alison's " History of .Europe " (or at least the Epitome thereof), the " Memoirs and Letters " of Horace Walpole, Fox's " Letters and Speeches," Wilkes's " North Briton, "the " Letters of Junius " and the " Satires " of Churchill. The bearing of the " Letter " upon the circumstances of Burke's life will be found fully set forth in the Notes. ALBERT H. SMYTH. INTRODUCTION. Edmund Burke is sometimes ranked first among the writers of English prose of the eighteenth century. There is something imperial in his style. His sonorous sentences roll and toss in profuse and majestic eloquence. His thought streams from him, an impetuous and abundant tor- rent. His resplendent rhetoric surges forward with the pomp and state and endless barbaric variety of a Roman triumph. His eagerness and exuberance betrayed him at times into grave faults of manner. His early and successful imitation of Bolingbroke — by no means a flawless model — set a permanent mark upon him. The high virtues of simplic- ity and sobriety are not his. In imagination and expres- sion he is magnificent, in the proudest sense of that much misapplied term; but his literary taste is not absolutely pure, nor his sense of proportion true, and his style is often overheated. Whatever the place to which he may be entitled among the masters of English prose, it is not likely that any writer will take precedence of him for subtle political wisdom and serious and fruitful reflection upon the principles of govern- ment and legislation. Mr. John Morley has said of Burke's three pieces on the American War : " They are an example without fault of all the qualities which the critic, whether a theorist or an actor, of great political situations should strive by night and by day to possess. If their subject were as remote as the quarrel VUl IXTRODUCTIOX. between the Corinthians and Corcyra, or the war between Rome and the allies, instead of a conflict to which the world owes the opportunity of the most important of political experiments, we should still have everything to learn from the author's treatment, — the vigorous grasp of masses of com- pressed detail, the wide illumination from great principles of human experience, the strong and masculine feeling for the two great political ends of Justice and Freedom, the large and generous interpretation of expediency, the morality, the vision, the noble temper." ■" However transient, commonplace, or personal the theme, Burke never left it without investing it with the splendor of history or introducing into it considerations drawn from the widest range of political institutions. Now that the violence of party strife has abated, and the figures and events of one hundred years ago may be impartially studied, it is unlikely that there should be any dissent from Mr. Lecky's opinion : " No other politician or writer has thrown the light of so penetrating a genius on the nature and working of the British Constitution, has impressed his prin- ciples so deeply on both of the great parties in the State, and has left behind him a richer treasure of political wisdom applicable to all countries and to all times. . . . There is per- haps no English prose writer since Bacon whose works are so thickly starred with thought. The time may come when they will be no longer read. The time will never come in which men would not grow the wiser by reading them," ^ The " Letter to a Noble Lord " is a superb example of Burke's gorgeous rhetoric, and of his high handling of a personal and transient theme. "The most splendid repartee in the English language," says John Morley ; and Mr. Gosse pronounces it " the most typical of Burke's writings, the 1 Morley, " Burke," p. 1 16. ^ Lecky, " England in the Eighteenth Century," vol. iii, p. 197. INTRODUCTION. ix most accomplished and surprising in matter, the most splen- did, melodious, and refined in manner." It is marked by dignity and elevation ; it is marred by no disastrous lapses from good taste and self-possession. It is at once the apologia of the proud, weary, broken-hearted statesman and the completest condemnation of the political fallacies and ethical monstrosities of the French Revolu- tion. An attack had been made in Parliament upon the pension granted by the crown to Edmund Burke. It was the close of his life, his son was dead, he was desolate and alone in his age. In his reply to his assailants — the Duke of Bedford and Lord Lauderdale — Burke reviews his services to the state. It is a majestic autobiography. He seems, as Mr. Ellis Yarnall has so well said of Wordsworth, to be awed by the greatness of his own power. The "Letter "was published in London, Feb. 24, 1796, and appeared.in the same year in Dublin and in Philadel- phia, and was translated into French and German. The Anti-Jacobin versified Burke's attack in the " New Morality," — And thou Leviathan ! on ocean's brim Hugest of living things that sleep and swim, Thou in whose nose by Burke's gigantic hand The hook was fixed to drag thee to the land. And Gillray remembered it in his caricature of "the Re- publican Rattlesnake Fox fascinating the Bedford Squirrel " (Nov. 16, 1796), in which the Duke with unpowdered hair and a squirrel's body is falling into the capacious jaws of the rattlesnake coiled round the tree. A swarm of pamphlets followed in the train of Burke's "Letter," containing every kind of answer — for the most part abusive and intemperate ^ — and having in them so X INTRODUCTION. little of real worth as to be undeserving even of record in a bibliography. In the preparation of the present edition, I have had before me the first and the thirteenth London editions, the first Dublin edition, and the first American edition, edited by William Cobbett (Peter Porcupine) in Phila- delphia in 1796, and reprinted in London in 1831, and in Edinburgh in 1837. For the sketch of Edmund Burke, which contains nothing new, I am indebted to the studies of John Morley, Charles Wentworth Dilke, W. E. H. Lecky, Edward Dowden, Leslie Stephen, Dr. William Hunt (in the "Dictionary of National Biography"), Henry Thomas Buckle, and the recent capital essay, " An Interpreter of English Liberty," by Prof. Woodrow Wilson (in " Mere Literature "). LIFE OF BURKE. Edmund Burke, the second son of Richard Burke, an attorney, was born in Dublin, probably on Jan. 12, 1729. His father was a Protestant, his mother a Catholic. His first schooling was obtained at Ballitore, County Kil- dare, from Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker, for whom Burke always entertained the greatest reverence and gratitude as for the man who first awakened and directed his intel- lect.^ He entered Trinity College — " the silent sister " — in 1743, where he conformed little to the habits of the place, read desultorily, studied Cicero, and took his bachelor's degree at the Spring Commencements, 1748.^ His name had been entered the previous year at the Middle Temple, and he now proceeded to England to read law. For the next few years little is known of him. Indeed, from 1752 to 1757 nothing is known with certainty. Dur- ing that period, with the exception of a single fragmentary letter, not a shred of his correspondence exists. His health was weak ; he rambled restlessly about in unknown places ; and by his indifference to the study and practice of the 1 See " Memoirs and Letters of Richard and Elizabeth Shacltleton." Compiled by their daughter, Mary Leadbeater, London [new edition], 1849. ^" affectionate friendship continued through life between Burke and his school companion Richard Shackleton. 2 His scholarship was never exact, and his literary taste was often bad, but he was not as ignorant of the classics as he has sometimes been represented. Charles James Fox in a letter to Anthony Robinson said that Burke knew as much of Greek as men usually do who have neglected it since their college days (Dilke, " Papers of a Critic "). xu LIFE OF BURKE. law so vexed his father that in 1755 his annual allowance (;£'ioo) was withdrawn. Here our knowledge of Burke at this time ends. There is a curious parallel between the lives of the two Irish adventurers Burke and Goldsmith, who had been contemporaries at Trinity, though there it is unlikely that they ever met, and who about the same time came up to London, the one to vanish in the purlieus of literature and in doubtful wanderings, the other to " dispute his passage through Europe " for a year with a flute, a guinea, and one shirt. Benjamin West, who knew Burke well, said that there was about him a degree of mystery connected with his early life which their long intercourse never tended to explain. While Burke was proud of his struggle — " nitor in adver- sum is the motto for a man like me " — it is probable that he shrank from the recollection of his shabby and unhappy early years. Perhaps he himself — the last survivor of his family — destroyed the letters and documentary evidence which related to those days. He chose at all times to keep a little solitude about him, and he enjoyed the independence and isolation of life in mighty and mysterious London. It was in this spirit that he said of the second city in the kingdom : " Though I have the honor to represent Bristol, I should not like to live there. I should be obliged to be so much upon my good behavior." It seems that during the early years in London he visited the debating clubs, and frequented the theaters, where he made the acquaintance of David Garrick. When apologiz- ing to his old friend Richard Shackleton for his neglect of correspondence, he says : " I have broken all rules ; I have neglected all decorums, everything except that I have never forgot a friend, whose good head and heart have made me esteem and love him. What appearance there may have been of neglect, arises from my manner of life ; chequered LIFE OF BURKE. XUI with various designs ; sometimes in London, sometimes in remote parts of the country ; sometimes in France, and shortly, please God, to be in America." He never visited America, nor contested the chair of moral philosophy at Glasgow, nor did he do many other things that his biogra- phers have imagined. In 1756 he undertook two adventures : he married, and he published his first writings. His wife was the daughter of Dr. Nugent, an Irish physician, who had attended him in his sickness and had received him into his own house to facilitate his return to health. Two sons were born of this marriage, — Richard, whose death occasions the most pathetic passage in the " Letter to a Noble Lord," and Christopher, who died in childhood. Burke's first publication was " A Vindication of Natural Society, in a Letter to Lord by a late Noble Writer " (1756). It was an ironical commentary on the philosophy of Bolingbroke — whose works had been posthumously pub- lished in 1754 — and so dextrously was the rapid, ornate style of Bolingbroke imitated that even accomplished critics were deceived into the belief that the work was a genuine original. The other work of the same year, which, however, is said to have been written when Burke was but nineteen years old, was " A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas on the Sublime and Beautiful." A copy of this treatise fell into the hands of Lessing and Moses Mendels- sohn, who held high converse in Breslau over the principles of art rather crudely enunciated therein, and Lessing was induced thereby to write the "Laokoon," a classic of Euro- pean literature.^ Burke was now fairly launched upon litera- ture. His interest in the theater caused him to begin a collec- 1 Macaulay was wont to say that whenever he read Lessing's " Laokoon" and Goethe's " Wilhelm Meister " he felt like throwing everything of a critical nature that he had himself written into the flames. xiv LIFE OF BURKE. tion of " Hints for an Essay on the Drama " at almost the same time that Diderot in his " Paradoxe sur le Comedien " and Lessing in the " Hamburgische Dramaturgie '' were working a revolution in dramatic literature and furnishing a philosophical interpretation of the actor's art. The dull and sterile considerations of Burke's " Essay " are far removed from the fresh and fertile thought of his great contemporaries in France and Germany. The style, too, is simple and austere, illustrating the canons of Irish taste rather than the eighteenth-century English standard.' 1 Wraxall says of Flood's oratory that " the slow-measured and sententious style of enunciation which characterized his eloquence, however calculated to excite admiration it might be in the senate of the sister kingdom, appeared to English ears cold, stiff, and deficient in some of the best recommendations of attention" ("Memoirs," vol. iii, p. 587). Lecky, in his remarks upon Irish style in the eighteenth century, says : " The standard of taste prevailing in Ireland, or at least in Dublin, during the first three-quarters of the eighteenth century appears to have been as far as possible removed from the exaggerated, overheated, and over-ornamented rhetoric which is so commonly associated virith the term Irish eloquence. The style of Swift, the style of Berkeley, and the style of Goldsmith are in their different ways among the most perfect in English literature, but they are simple sometimes to the verge of baldness, and they manifest a much greater distaste for ornamenta- tion and rhetorical effect than the best contemporary writings in England. Burke had by nature one of the most exuberant of human imaginations, and his literary taste was by no means pure ; but it is very remarkable that it was not until a long residence in England had made him indifferent to the canons of Irish taste that the true character of his intellect was fully disclosed. " . . It represented, no doubt, in a great measure, the reaction of the cultivated taste of the nation against popular and prevalent faults, just as it is common to find among the illustrious writers and critics who have in the present century arisen in America a severity of taste and of literary judgment and a fastidious purity of expression rarely equalled among good English writers " (" England in the Eighteenth Century," vol. iv, p. 450). Sir James Mackintosh, describing the writings of Berkeley, says : " Perhaps he also surpassed Cicero in the charm of LIFE OF BURKE. xv An "Abridgement of the History of England," brought down to the reign of King John, and an "Account of the European Settlements in America" (1757) indicate a change of literary interest and a progress from abstract speculation to political and economic affairs. He proposed a yearly chronicle of political events, and with Dodsley as publisher issued the first volume of the "Annual Register" in 1759, receiving from his publisher one hundred pounds for his work. It was a time of great political and military activity, and the " Register " had abundant events to record. It was the climax of the Seven Years' War and of the expansion of England. In 1756 Clive won Plassey and took India into his grasp; in 1759 General Wolfe took Quebec and ended the long struggle between England and France for the possession of America. At this time, too, Burke began to gain a practical insight into public affairs. He was intro- duced to William Gerard Hamilton, better known by his nickname of " Single-speech," whom he accompanied to Ireland when Hamilton went thither in 1761 as secre- tary to the Earl of Halifax. Hamilton secured for his auxiliary a pension of three hundred pounds, but demanded that Burke should give to his service his entire time, and dream no more of "authorism." Burke refused to sell himself and threw up the pension after having held it for two years. He left the service of his first political employer entertaining an opinion of him that was afterward expressed by Dr. Leland with more force than elegance when he described Hamilton as a sullen, vain, proud, selfish, canker- hearted, envious reptile. In the year (1764) marked by this dissolution of amity Burke became a member of the famous literary club which held its sessions at the Turk's Head, in simplicity, a quality eminently found in Irish writers before the end of the eighteenth century " (" Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy," p. 214). XVI LIFE OF BURKE. Gerard Street, and which numbered among its original members Johnson, Reynolds, Hawkins, Beauclerk, Gold- smith, Burke, and Dr. Nugent. Tliis most celebrated of " clubs " had its origin in the thought of Sir Joshua Reynolds and in his conversation with Dr. Johnson. It grew to have thirty-five members, meeting once a fortnight during the session of Parliament. Edward Gibbon, who was elected March 4, 1774, formulated the now famous announcement of election to membership : " Sir, I have the pleasure to inform you that you had last night the honour to be elected a member of 'The Club.'" The club still exists, holding its meetings at Willis's rooms, St. James's Street, on alternate Friday evenings instead of Mondays, as in its earlier history. It has had in recent years many distinguished members. Dean Milman presided at the Centenary dinner June 7, 1864; Hallam, Macaulay, Earl Stanhope, the Marquis of Lansdowne, Henry Reeve, Sir Henry Taylor, Sir Frederick Leighton, Tennyson, Matthew Arnold, Spencer Walpole, and other dignitaries of church and state have been connected with it, and Lord Acton, W. E. H. Lecky, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Salisbury, and the Duke of Argyll are among its members at the present time (1898). A change of ministry took place in 1765, when Grenville, during whose administration Wilkes had been prosecuted and the Stamp Act passed, was dismissed, and Lord Rock- ingham was summoned by the king to perform the duties of government. His appointment of Burke as his private secretary occasioned much scandal-mongering.^ Burke was ^ Burke was probably introduced to Lord Rockingham by William Burke, with whom his relations were most intimate, and who may or may not have been a kinsman. William Burke was a man of consider- able ability — he was reputed to have written the Junius letters — and had an Irishman's facility for knowing people. He was a desperate stock gambler, and there were always ugly rumors afloat concerning the transactions of "the Burkes." LIFE OF BURKE. XVU denounced as a Jesuit, a Papist, an Irish adventurer; but Lord Rockingham, after a frank conversation with his maUgned secretary, built an absolute trust upon him, and a generous and an abiding friendship began between the two men, marred by no disagreement or slip of loyalty. Burke was returned to Parliament for Lord Verney's pocket borough of Wendover (Dec. 23, 1765). His maiden speech (Jan. 27, 1766) was on a motion that the petition sent from the American Congress should be received by Parliament. He argued that the petition should be received on the ground that it was in itself an acknowledgment of the rights of the House (see Bancroft, " History of the United States," vol. iii, p. 551). The Rockingham ministry came to an end June 7, 1766. Burke wrote its obituary — "A Short History of a Short Administration " — and, accepting the fate of his party, declined the overtures of Chatham, who sought to attach him to his administration. He visited Ireland, received the freedom of Galway, and for his opposition — in the next session — to the motion to forbid the importation of Irish wool into England received the further honor of the freedom of Dublin. Burke was a lover of the country. He sought his recrea- tion among trees and in gardens. In theories of arboriculture and stock breeding he took as keen an interest as in the great affairs of state. It was his ambition, as he said, to "cast a little root" in England, and on May i, 1768, he purchased six hundred acres in Buckinghamshire, twenty- four miles from London. The estate, called Gregories, was in the parishes of Penn and Beaconsfield. It had been the seat of the poet Waller, and it is near the home of William Penn, and not far from the country churchyard of Gray's elegy. The mystery of Burke's purchase of this land for twenty- two thousand pounds has never been entirely cleared up. He was an adventurer when he entered Parliament, with no XVIU LIFE OF BURKE. apparent means of a livelihood. It is known that his brother Richard and his kinsman William Burke and Lord Verney were at this time gambling in East India stock, that the stock fell and the Burkes were ruined. Whatever may be our theory of Edmund Burke's financial resources and speculations, it is certain that from 1769 he was never free from the annoyance of debt. He borrowed thirty thousand pounds from Lord Rockingham, and the debt was never paid, Rockingham ordering all Burke's bonds to be destroyed. He was frequently under the necessity of negotiating loans for pitifully small amounts. The purchase of Beaconsfield was as fatal to him as the acquisition of Abbotsford to Sir Walter Scott. And yet Burke was not inordinately profuse in his living; his expenses in the country did not exceed twenty-five hundred pounds a year, and probably his city life (for he neither drank nor gambled) did not add greatly to this modest expenditure.' After a visit to France (1773), where he saw much of the old nobility and met Diderot and the Encyclopedists at the salon of Mdlle. de I'Espinasse, Burke consented to enter a contest for Parliament as member for Bristol. The six years during which he represented the second city of the kingdom were the years of the American Revolution. He opposed " The Boston Port Bill " and the proposal to alter the charter of the Province of Massachusetts. His famous speech on " American Taxation " was delivered April 19, 1774. In it he utters the warning: "Again and again, revert to your old principles. Seek peace and ensue it. Leave America, if she has taxable matter in her, to tax ' Charles Wentworth Dilke, " The Papers of a Critic," London, 1875, has exhaustively considered Burke's money affairs, and attempts to show how Burke supported himself in London before being retained by the Rockingham party, and where he got the money to buy and to keep up Gregories. LIFE OF BURKE. xix herself. I am not going into the distinction of rights, nor attempting to mark their boundaries. I do not enter into those metaphysical distinctions. I hate the very sound of them. Leave the Americans as they anciently stood, and these distinctions, born of our unhappy contest, will die along with it. They and we, and their and our ancestors, have been happy under that system. Let the memory of all actions in contradiction to that good old mode, on both sides, be extinguished forever. Be content to bind America by laws of trade ; you have always done it. Let this be your reason for binding their trade. Do not burden them with taxes ; you were not used to do so from the beginning. Let this be your reason for not taxing. These are the arguments of states and kingdoms. Leave the rest to the schools ; for there only they may be discussed with safety. But if, intemperately, unwisely, fatally, you sophisticate and poison the very source of government, by urging subtle deductions and consequences odious to those you govern from the unlimited and illimitable nature of supreme sover- eignty, you will teach them by these means to call that sovereignty itself in question. When you drive him hard, the boar will surely turn upon the hunters. If that sover- eignty and their freedom cannot be reconciled which will they take ? They will cast your sovereignty in your face." To Burke, as to Horace Walpole and many another thoughtful observer, the failure of the struggle of the English people in America meant the sacrifice of the English constitution and the mortification of English liberty. " Nobody shall persuade me," he said upon another occasion, " when a whole people are concerned, that acts of lenity are not means of concilia- tion"; and again: "I do not know the method of drawing up an indictment against a whole people." With the passing of Lord North's government in 1782, Lord Rockingham, Charles Fox, and Lord Shelburne were XX LIFE OF BURKE. sent for to form a new niinislry. Eurke was appointed Pay- master of the Forces, his brother made Secretary of the Treasury, and his son Richard named to be his father's deputy at the Pay-office. In three months Lord Rockingham was dead, and Burke, allied with Fox, was pouring forth daily invectives against Lord Shelburne. The administration fell in 1783 and was succeeded by the ministry of the Duke of Portland, in which North and Fox exercised sovereign sway, and under which Burke returned to the Pay-office. Between the American Revolution and the French Revo- lution — the second portentous change in the world's affairs with which Burke was concerned — intervened the trial of Warren Hastings, which, with its allied Indian questions, occupied Burke for fourteen years, and with whose story the world is familiar through a hundred narratives of eloquence and power. Burke and the French Revolution. The revolution which swept the feudal system out of France was the most violent manifestation of a tremendous series of changes which disturbed almost every country in Europe. The earth was filled with the shrill cries of liberty and equality and the proclamation of the rights of man. The lurid effulgence of the French Revolution beat upon English faces, arousing alternately hope and fear. An ideal excitement seized upon the people, and the poets, always the first to feel the rush of the nation in emotion, chanted the praises of the new order. The eighteenth-century literature, which had begun with the poetry of Pope — steeped to the lips in artificial life — and which had heard in Gray the distant approach of the voices of the Revolution, now closed with the defiant songs of liberty of Robert Burns. Wordsworth, also, and Coleridge and Southey LIFE OF BURKE. xxi began in sympathy with the destroyers of the Bastille, but after the Reign of Terror grew disillusionized and conserva- tive. Wordsworth visited France at the time of the September massacres, and in both the clamorous halls, the National Synod and the Jacobins, he Saw the Revolutionary Power Toss like a ship at anchor, rocked by storms. Southey wrote "Wat Tyler " as one who was impatient of " all the oppressions that are done under the sun." Coleridge sang his lofty gratulation, — When France in wrath her giant limbs upreared. And with that oath which smote air, earth, and sea Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free. The sentimental Jacobinism of Burns — a rebel to the last — formulated in song a programme of social aspiration. Dr. Priestley, Dr. Price, William Godwin, and Thomas Paine theorized about the uprising of the proletariat, and with metaphysical abstractions constructed an ideal society upon "Political Justice" and the "Rights of Man." Even Parliament rocked upon the strong current of revolutionary sympathy. Fox declared that the fall of the Bastille was the greatest and best event that had ever happened in the world, and the Earl of Lauderdale appeared in the House wearing a rough Jacobin costume. Burke never shared the tommon transport. From the first he was uneasy and apprehensive. He distrusted " the blind hysterics of the Celt," and watched the rapid and singular proceedings across the channel with absorbing interest and with suspended judgment. When the terrible events of the Revolution came on, and France performed the perilous feat that Carlyle called " shooting Niagara," and the doctrine of the " rights of man " raged like a fever in the blood of Europe, and fanaticism, specu- XXI 1 LIFE OF BUKKE. lation, and atheism dethroned Burke's cherished idols of order, sobriety, and "gently enlarged precedent," the states- man's anxious vigils were startled by visions of stupendous and hideous catastrophe. Dr. Price, in addressing an association called the Revolution Society, praised France in good set terms for having ad- vanced the principles of the English Revolution to a loftier height. Burke considered that the preacher had given " the solemn public seal of sanction " to what was going on in France, and set to work forthwith upon a message and warning to the people of England. He toiled terribly upon it, correcting and rewriting it in every sentence, until, in exactly a year (November, 1790), " Reflections on the French Revolution," a small octavo of three hundred and fifty-six pages, appeared. Sir James Mackintosh, then a young man of twenty-five years, replied to the " Reflections " in the just and sane " Vindicice GalliccB," though he afterwards recanted and joined hands with Burke. Thomas Paine retorted in the " Rights of Man " with an energy and fierce- ness which were a grim satisfaction to Burke. The tears of passion shed in the " Reflections," and the horror of anarchy which the gigantic diatribe displayed proceeded from deep sources of conviction; peace, friendship, all precious things Burke sacrificed in the intense heat of mind aroused by the Revolution. He quarrelled with Sheri- dan and separated from Fox, saying, " It is indiscreet at any period, but especially at my time of life, to provoke enemies or give my friends occasion to desert me. Yet if my firm and steady adherence to the British Constitution place me in such a dilemma, I am ready to risk it, and with my last words to exclaim, ' Fly from the French Constitution.' " John Morley, writing of the memorable scene of May 6, 1791, when these fatal words were spoken, says: "The mem- bers who sat on the same side were aghast at proceedings LIFE OF BUJiKE. XXlll which went beyond their worst apprehensions. Even the ministerialists were shocked. Pitt agreed much more with Fox than with Burke, but he would have been more than human if he had not watched with complacency his two most formidable adversaries turning their swords against one another. Wilberforce, who was more disinterested, lamented the spectacle as shameful. In the galleries there was hardly a dry eye. Fox, as might have been expected from his warm and generous nature, was deeply moved, and is described as weeping even to sobbing. He repeated his former acknowl- edgment of his debt to Burke, and he repeated his former expression of faith in the blessings which the abolition of royal despotism would bring to France. With unabated vehemence, Burke again rose to denounce the French Con- stitution, — ' a building composed of untempered mortar — the work of Goths and Vandals, where everything was dis- jointed and inverted.' After a short rejoinder from Fox, the scene came to a close, and the once friendly intercourse between the two heroes was at an end. When they met in the managers' box in Westminster Hall on the business of Hastings's trial, they met with the formalities of strangers. There is a story that when Burke left the House on the night of the quarrel it was raining, and Mr. Curwen, a member of the Opposition, took him home in his carriage. Burke at once began to declaim against the French. Curwen dropped some remark on the other side. ' What ! ' Burke cried out, grasping the check-string, 'are you one of these people.' Set me down 1 ' It needed all Curwen's force to keep him where he was; and when they reached his house Burke stepped out without saying a single word." (Morley's " Burke," p. 264.) At Margate, in ill health, Burke finished the "Appeal from the Old to the New Whigs," which was published in August, 1791, "the last piece that Burke wrote on the Revolution in which there is any pretense of measure, sobriety, and calm XXIV LIFE OF BURKE. judgment in face of a formidable and perplexing crisis. Henceforth it is not political philosophy, but the minatory exhortation of a prophet " (Morley). At first blush it would appear that Burke entertained one set of political doctrines when he favored the struggle of the colonists in America and quite another when he inveighed against the aspirations of the revolutionists in France. His course was in reality thoroughly consistent. " I flatter myself," he said, "that I love a manly, moral, regulated liberty''; but he could not conceive of liberty apart from order. He regarded with a reverence that was almost awe the vast and intricate body of English law and tradition, established by charter and custom. Lightly to overturn ancient opinion, to innovate in morals or religion, to experi- ment with the social order were to him acts of suicidal folly leading to atheism, anarchy, and dissolution. His notion of England was Tennyson's, ■ — A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent. Where faction seldom gathers head; But by degrees to fulness wrought. The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. He was everywhere recognized as the most stalwart defender of the constitution, for which he entertained almost a superstitious reverence. When Richard Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, whose liberal sympathies had caused him to be called " the levelling prelate " and " the Bishop of the Dissenters," recanted after the execution of Louis XVI and published his " Strictures on the French Revolution and the British Constitution" (Jan. 15, 1793), Wordsworth regarded LIFE OF BURKE. XXV him as a renegade, and replied with " An Apology for the French Revolution," signed " A Republican," in which the arguments were the arguments of Rousseau, and the object of his attack was rather Burke than Watson. He declared that Burke, with " a refinement of cruelty superior to that which in the East yokes the living to the dead, strove to persuade us that we and our posterity to the end of time were riveted to a constitution by the indissoluble compact of a dead parchment." Because of his evident sincerity of purpose and his great services to English liberty, Burke's opposition was regarded by the radicals with lenity and mild regret. Coleridge, in his " Sonnets on Eminent Characters " (December, 1794), compares Pitt, "the dark scowler," to Judas Iscariot, but addresses Burke, — As late I lay in slumber's shadowy vale, With wetted cheek, and in a mourner's guise, I saw the sainted form of Freedom rise ; She spake ! not sadder moans the autumnal gale — " Great Son of Genius ! sweet to me thy name, Ere in an evil hour with altered voice Thou bad'st Oppression's hireling crew rejoice. Blasting with wizard spell my laurelled fame. Yet never, Burke ! thou drank'st Corruption's bowl ! Thee stormy Pity and the cherished lure Of Pomp, and proud Precipitance of soul Wildered with meteor fires. Ah Spirit pure ! That error's mist had left thy purged eye, So might I clasp thee with a Mother's joy. "Murderous atheists," Burke called the sect of revolution. To him they were "bloody felons who annoy the world." He denounced all those who would irreverently meddle with forms of life about which had accumulated " the awful hoar of innumerable ages." He saw a new and pernicious doctrine spreading from the schools into the mass of the people and ^vi LIFE OF BUKKE. threatening the old social order. It alarmed him that " rank and office and all the solemn plausibilities of the world had lost their reverence and effect " (" Present Discontents "). Government by contract, by constitutions made in the study and pigeon-holed and ticketed by an Abb^ Sieyes, shocked his sense of the solemnity that attaches to the great invisible ideas upon which the progress of a nation is borne. " One sure symptom," he said to the sheriffs of Bristol, " of an ill- conducted state is the propensity of the people to resort to theories." And in his speech on Conciliation he declared that the discussion of abstract rights "is the great Serbonian bog Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, Where armies whole have sunk.'' "All the ancient, honest, juridical principles and institu- tions of England," he said, " are so many clogs to check and retard the headlong course of violence and oppression; they were invented for this one good purpose, that what was not just should not be convenient." Burke was willing to admit the right of England to tax her colonies, but he knew that if the integrity of the empire was to be preserved it was not expedient to enforce taxation. He waged his war of fourteen years against Warren Hastings and the misman- agement of India because he would save the empire, and he believed right conduct indispensable to the preservation of India. " Our business," he said, " is to rule, not to wrangle." And as he pursued political expediency in India and Amer- ica in order to preserve the constitution inviolate and the integrity of the august empire, in precisely the same manner he warned England to keep out French infection — " the rude inroad of Gallic tumult" — lest England, too, should "lead up the death-dance of democratic revolution " and all "perish and be overwhelmed in a common ruin." LIFE OF BURKE. xxvu In his sixty-fourth year Burke announced his intention to leave Parliament upon the conclusion of the trial of Hastings. Accordingly, in 1794 he applied for the Chiltern Hundreds. His son Richard Burke was nominated for his seat in the House, and it was proposed to make Burke a peer, — Lord Beaconsfield. But in August, 1794, Richard Burke died, and the venerable statesman, overwhelmed and desolate, withdrew to Beaconsfield to drag out three sad, weary years. The arrangements for a peerage ceased with the son's death. Pitt, who was aware of Burke's financial distress, offered him a grant of twelve hundred pounds a year from the Civil List for Mrs. Burke's life, "to be followed by a proposition to Parliament in a message from the king to confer an annuity of greater value upon a statesman who had served the country to his own loss for thirty years. As a matter of fact, the grant, twenty- five hundred pounds a year in amount, much to Burke's chagrin, was never brought before Parliament, but was conferred directly by the Crown, as a charge on the four and a half per cent fund for two or more lives." The Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale attacked the pension because it had not been given with the consent of Parliament and therefore was an offense against the plan of economic reform. Burke's reply to the attack is "The Letter to a Noble Lord." He died July 9, 1797, and is buried at Beaconsfield. On July 13 George Canning wrote to one of Lord Malmes- bury's embassy, "There is but one event, but that is an event for the world, — Burke is dead." The Personality of Burke. Edmund Burke won many friends. He was a " clubable " man, as Dr. Johnson said, and men were attracted to him xxviu LIFE OF BURKE. and loved him. He served Lord Rockingham, in a political alliance, with unswerving loyalty, and he was devoted to Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds. The literary coterie with whom he was early associated believed in a great future for Burke in letters and philosophy. They admired his vast abilities and the riches of his knowledge. " Burke," said Johnson, "is such a man that if you met him for the first time in the street, when you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five minutes, he 'd talk to you in such a manner that, when you departed, you would say, ' This is an extraordinary man.' He is never what we would call humdrum ; never unwilling to begin to talk, nor in haste to leave off." Once when he was ill Burke's name was mentioned. Johnson cried out, " That fellow calls forth all my powers ; were I to see Burke now it would kill me." The opinion that the club entertained of Burke is perhaps expressed by Goldsmith in "Retaliation," — Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote ; Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining. Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit ; For a patriot too cool ; for a drudge disobedient ; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 't was his fate, unemployed, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. The qualities that amazed and fascinated his hearers in conversation were precisely the characteristics of his public LIFE OF BURKE. xxix address, — great and varied supplies of knowledge, an imperjal command of all the resources of language, and a subtle, sinewy flexibility of logic. Goldsmith said of him that he wound into a subject like a serpent. Never at a loss for the right word, he struggled with the hurrying crowd of his ideas. His thought issued in rapid speech, opulent with all gorgeous ornament. His style had the rapidity of Bolingbroke and the masculine vigor of Dryden. In his flight he passed from Miltonic elevation to Crabbe-like terseness of colloquialism. His oratory suffered from natural disabilities. His voice was harsh, and he spoke with a marked Irish accent. He lacked tact, was choleric and irritable, and displayed at times a fierce Irish temper. On more than one occasion he was forcibly dragged into his seat by his coat tails when the fiery eruption of his anger or Scorn threatened to bring him into danger. In 1778 Lord Mulgrave, in a speech on the navy estimates, acknowledged that not a shilling had been laid out on the purposes for which the last vote had been made. Burke's anger blazed. " Snatching ' the fine gilt book of estimates ' from the table, he flung it at the Treasury bench, and the volume hit the candle, and nearly hit Wel- bore Ellis, the treasurer of the navy, on the shins." And yet he was gentle of heart and sympathetic with all suffering or aspiring ones. The poet Crabbe, in peril of the debtor's prison, appealed to him by letter for aid; and Burke, occupied with the most exacting duties of his busy public life, paused to answer the begging note and to receive its writer and to relieve his distress with money and to grant him rooms in his own house at Beaconsfield. When his own income was inadequate to his needs he stinted himself that he might send James Barry, a promising Irish lad, to study art in foreign capitals. "It is at his country home," says Mr. Morley, "that we XXX LIFB OF BURKE. like best to think of Burke. It is still a touching picture to the historic imagination to follow him from the heat and violence of the House, where tipsy squires derided the greatest genius of the time, down to the calm shades of Beaconsfield, where he would with his own hands give food to a starving beggar, or medicine to a peasant sick of the ague ; where he would talk of the weather, the turnips, and the hay with the team men and the farm bailiff ; and where, in the evening stillness, he would pace the walk under the trees, and reflect on the state of Europe and the distractions of his country." The House of Russell. Francis Russell, fifth Duke of Bedford (1765-1802), by his speech upon Burke's pension provoked " The Letter to a Noble Lord." He was the son of Francis Russell, Mar- quis of Tavistock, and Elizabeth, sixth daughter of William (Keppel), second Earl Albemarle. He succeeded his grandfather, John Russell, the fourth duke, in 1771. He was educated at Westminster School and at Trinity College, Cambridge. After two years of foreign travel he took his seat in the House of Lords, Dec. 5, 1787. He was not a lover of books, and indeed had read so little that he told Lord Holland in 1793 that he hesitated to address the House for fear of exposing himself by his bad English. His acquaintance with James Maitland (Earl of Lauderdale) and Charles James Fox encouraged him, and he became a lead- ing debater. He died unmarried, March 2, 1802, and was succeeded by his brother John, sixth Duke of Bedford. On March 16, 1802, Fox delivered an eloquent eulogy upon the dead duke, which was seconded by Sheridan, and the manuscript of which is preserved at Woburn Abbey. The Russells are descended, as Burke reminds the fifth LIFE OF BURKE. xxxi duke, from John Russell, a gentleman of the chamber to Henry VIII, who was employed by the king in several important missions and was rewarded with the plunder of the monasteries. In 1540 the abbey of Tavistock, in Devonshire, and many manors belonging to the abbey were presented -to him. After the accession of Edward VI still other large grants were made to him, notably the Cistercian abbey of Woburn in Bedfordshire, in 1547, and the abbey of Thorney, in 1549. These grants were the origin of the immense wealth of the family. John Russell was created Earl of Bedford Jan. 19, 1550. He died in London March 14, 1555, and was succeeded by his only son, Francis Russell, second Earl of Bedford, who was Sheriff of Bedfordshire in 1547, Member of Par- liament for Buckinghamshire, 1547-1552, and Lord Warden of the Stannaries, 1553-1580. He was a stalwart Prot- estant, was imprisoned during Queen Mary's reign, and when released retired to Geneva, where he relieved the wants of many of the religious exiles. In 1558 he was made Lord-Lieutenant of the counties of Dorset, Devon, and Corn- wall. Upon the accession of Elizabeth he was named Privy Councillor. He enjoyed the costly luxury of enter- taining Queen Elizabeth twice, — at Cheneys and at Woburn. Upon the second occasion he wrote in some alarm to Lord Burleigh: " I am now going to prepare for her Ma*i=^ coming to Woborne, which shall be done in the best and most hastiest manner that I can. I trust y"" L? will bear in remembrance to provide helpe that her Mat= tarrieng be not above two nights and a daye, for, for so long tyme do I prepare. I pray God, thi Rowmes and Lodgings there may be to her Mat^ contentacion for the tyme. If I could make them better upon such a sodeyn, then would I, be assured, they should be better than they be. So w' my heartie thanks to your good L. remayning always, as I have just XXXU LIFE OF BURKE. cause, yo", and so commit you to God's keeping. From Russell House this XVI* of July, 1572. Yr L. right assured, F. Bedford." He was godfather to Sir Francis Drake, founded the Free School at Woburn, and left money to University College, Oxford. His eldest daughter married Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick. One of his sons. Sir William Russell (Lord Russell of Thornhaugh), fought bravely in the fatal battle of Zutphen, where Sir Philip Sidney fell. It was Sir William's only son Francis (1593-1641) who became fourth Earl of Bedford, having succeeded his cousin Edward, who died young and unmarried. Francis was one of thirty- three peers who in 162 1 petitioned James I on the prejudice caused to the English peerage by the lavish grant of Irish and Scottish titles of nobility. William, the fifth Earl of Bedford, was son to Francis. He commanded the Parliamentary Cavalry at Edgehill, but gradually separated himself from the Parliamentary cause and went to the king. He was made first Duke of Bedford (1694). According to Macaulay, he " accepted the dukedom with some reluctance, alleging, as a reason for preferring his earldom to a dukedom, that an earl who had a numerous family might send one son to the Temple, and another to a counting house in the City, but the sons of a duke were all lords, and a lord could not make his bread either at the Bar or on 'Change." The Dukes of Bedford have been: William, the first duke, succeeded by his son. Wriothesley, the second duke, succeeded by his son. Wriothesley, the third duke, succeeded by his brother. Lord John Russell, the fourth duke, succeeded by his grandson. Francis, the fifth duke, succeeded by his brother. LIFE OF BURKE. XXXlll John, the sixth duke, succeeded by his son. Francis, the seventh duke, succeeded by his son. William, the eighth duke, succeeded by his cousin. Francis Charles Hastings Russell, the ninth duke, succeeded by his son. George William Francis Sackville, the tenth duke, succeeded by his brother. Herbrand Arthur, the eleventh and present duke. The present duke has published an exact account of his stewardship in administering the affairs of the vast property to which Burke refers. His book is " A Great Agricultural Estate, being the Story of the Origin and Administration of Woburn and Thorney," London, 1897. It is modestly and clearly written, and explains the contraction of values in land in England, the failure of agriculture, and the decline of rents, which have reduced to actual poverty many of the landed gentry. The Duke of Bedford's seventy- three thousand acres are farmed at a financial loss, though the deficit is handsomely provided for by the rentals of "certain lodging houses" in Bloomsbury — one square mile of houses in the heart of London ! — which bring to the duke an annual income of three hundred thousand pounds.^ The Thorney estate is situated in the basin of the Fen- lands of the Bedford Level. It is lower than the sea, " the level varying from nine to twelve feet below high-water mark in the German Ocean." The Romans had attempted to drain the Fens, and their works had been maintained and carried on by the monks of Ely. The work had ceased and the land was submerged when Francis, fourth Earl of Bed- 1 The great Bloomsbury estate came to the Bedfords through the marriage of William Russell, son of the fifth earl, to Lady Vaughan, daughter and co-heiress of the last Earl of Southampton. It is after this connection that the name Wriothesley (Southampton) appears in the Bedford line. XXXI V LIFE OF BURKE. ford, resumed the task of reclamation ; " the river beds were foul; the channels choked ; the streams continually overflowed their banks ; twice a day the tides drove back the fresh water and prevented the discharge of the upland streams. The country which Francis, Earl of Bedford, took in hand in the year 1630, in company with thirteen gentlemen adventurers, had thus become one vast deep fen, ' affording little benefit to the realm, other than fish and fowl, and overmuch harbor to a rude and almost barbarous sort of lazy and beggarly people.' " In three years the whole level was declared to be drained. Within this space of time the Earl of Bedford and his participants had spent no less than one hundred thousand pounds, equal perhaps to three hundred thousand pounds at present. The undertaking was pronounced defective, because it was found that in the winter the lands were under water. " The king was declared ' undertaker,' and was not only to have the ninety-five thousand acres set out for the Earl of Bedford, but also fifty-seven thousand acres more from the country. ' Being prevented, however, by troubles arising in the kingdom,' the king, it seems, did nothing in the work of draining." The work was resumed in 1649 by William, Earl of Bedford, who with tremendous toil won back the land from the sea and the swamps. The Dukes of Bedford have maintained an interest in agriculture. John, the fourth duke, was especially inter- ested in planting. Of him the present duke relates the following anecdote : " The duke, perceiving that the plan- tation required thinning in order to admit a free circulation of air and give health and vigor to the young trees, gave instructions to his gardener, and directed him as to the mode and extent of the thinning required. The gardener paused and hesitated, and at length said : ' Your grace must pardon me if I humbly remonstrate against your orders, but LIFE OF BURKE. xxxv I cannot possibly do what you desire; it would at once destroy the young plantation, and, moreover, it would be seriously injurious to my reputation as a planter.' The duke replied : ' Do as I desire you, and I will take care of your reputation.' The plantation was consequently thinned according to his instructions, and the duke caused a board to be fixed in the plantation, facing the road, on which was inscribed, ' This plantation has been thinned by John, Duke of Bedford, contrary to the advice and opinion of his gardener.' " The fifth duke at the very time that he was assailing Burke's pension was conducting experiments in the feeding of cattle and the growing of grasses, and of him Burke's friend Arthur Young declared: "The agricultural world never perhaps sustained a greater individual loss than the husbandry of this empire has suffered by the death of the Duke of Bedford." The house of Russell has produced some men of distin- guished power in the present century. Professor Jowett, the Master of Balliol, contributed to the Spectator, March 7, 1 89 1, an appreciation of Hastings Russell, the ninth duke, which is a capital estimate of a highly accomplished man of a singular goodness and kindness of heart. " He was,'' says Jowett, " one of the richest men in England, but he had also been one of the poorest. He would sometimes say that he had lived on all incomes from two hundred pounds to two hundred thousand pounds a year, and that he could do so again." But the most illustrious of the family was Lord John, first Earl Russell, the youngest son of the sixth Duke of Bedford, and born in London, Aug. 18, 1792. The Times on the occasion of his death said: "In him we have lost a man who illustrates the history of England for half a century better, perhaps, than any other person of his time. During his long season of toil there were more brilliant political xxxvi LIFE OF BURk-R. intellects, more striking masters of debate, and men more gifted with the various qualities of party leadership. There were, on the whole, statesmen of greater foresight and more executive ability. There were statesmen who exercised a far more powerful fascination on the minds of rich and poor. But there was no other man so closely identified with the political movements which will make fifty or sixty years of our history memorable to the future." A reformer and leader in politics, he essayed to be a tragedian, a novelist, a historian, a biographer, an editor, and a pamphleteer. His audacity and universality made Sydney Smith say: " I believe Lord John Russell would perform the operation for the stone, build St. Peters, or assume with or without ten minutes' notice the command of the channel fleet, and no one would discover by his manner that the patient had died, the church tumbled down, and the channel fleet been knocked to atoms." He was the author of several political epigrams that have circulated widely, — "the honorable member talks of the cant of patriotism, but there is something worse than the cant of patriotism, and that is the re-cant of patriotism "; "one man's wit and all men's wisdom"; "a spur in the head is worth two in the heel." Lord John was raised to the peerage in 1861, and died May 28, 1878. He was twice married, first to Adelaide, daughter of Thomas Lister and widow of Thomas, second Lord Ribblesdale, and then to Lady Frances Anna Maria Elliott, daughter of Gilbert, second Earl of Minto. His eldest son by the second marriage was Viscount Amberley (1842-1876), who was an agnostic and wrote " An Analysis of Religious Belief," London, 1876, in two volumes. He married a daughter of Baron Stanley of Alderley, and his son John Francis Stanley succeeded Lord John Russell as second Earl Russell in 1878. Lord John's eldest brother, Lord George William Russell (1790-1846), served in the Peninsular War, was minister to LIFE OF BURKE. XXXVU Portugal, and ambassador at Berlin. Of his three sons, the eldest was Hastings, the ninth Duke of Bedford, and the youngest, Odo William, first Baron Ampthill (1829-1884), ambassador at Berlin in 187 1, and plenipotentiary at the Berlin Congress with Beaconsfield and Salisbury. ALBERT H. SMYTH. A Letter from the Right Honourable Edmund Burke to A Noble Lord on the Attacks made upon him and his Pension in The House of Lords by The Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale Early in the present session of Parliament London : 1796. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. My Lord: I could hardly flatter myself with the hope that so very early in the season I should have to acknowl- edge obligations to the Duke of Bedford and to the Earl of Lauderdale. These noble persons have lost no time in conferring upon me that sort of honor which it is alone 5 within their competence, and which it is certainly most congenial to their natures and their manners, to bestow. To be ill spoken of, in whatever language they speak, by the zealots of the new sect in philosophy and politics, of which these noble persons think so charitably, and of 10 which others think so justly, to me is no matter of uneasiness or surprise. To have incurred the displeasure of the Duke of Orleans, or the Duke of Bedford, to fall under the censure of Citizen Brissot, or of his friend the Earl of Lauderdale, I ought to consider as proofs, not the 1 5 least satisfactory, that I have produced some part of the effect I proposed by my endeavors. I have labored hard to earn what the noble lords are generous enough to pay. Personal offence I have given them none. The part they take against me is from zeal to the cause. It is well ! — it 20 is perfectly well ! I have to do homage to their justice. I have to thank the Bedfords and the Lauderdales for having so faithfully and so fully acquitted towards me whatever arrear of debt was left undischarged by the Priestleys and the Paines. 25 ■1 EDMUND BURKE. Some, perhaps, may think them executors in their own wrong: I, at least, have nothing to complain of. They have gone beyond the demands of justice. They have been (a little, perhaps, beyond their intention) favorable 5 to me. They have been the means of bringing out by their invectives the handsome things which Lord Grenville has had the goodness and condescension to say in my behalf. Retired as I am from the world, and from all its affairs and all its pleasures, I confess it does kindle in my nearly 10 extinguished feelings a very vivid satisfaction to be so attacked and so commended. It is soothing to my wounded mind to be commended by an able, vigorous, and well-informed statesman, and at the very moment when he stands forth, with a manliness and resolution 15 worthy of himself and of his cause, for the preservation of the person and government of our sovereign, and therein for the security of the laws, the liberties, the morals, and the lives of his people. To be in any fair way connected with such things is indeed a distinction. 20 No philosophy can make me above it; no melancholy can depress me so low as to make me wholly insensible to such an honor. Why will they not let me remain in obscurity and inaction ? Are they apprehensive, that, if an atom of me remains, the sect has something to fear? 25 Must I be annihilated, lest, like old John Zisca's, my skin might be made into a drum, to animate Europe to eternal battle against a tyranny that threatens to overwhelm all Europe and all the human race ? My Lord, it is a subject of awful meditation. Before 30 this of France, the annals of all time have not furnished an instance of a complete revolution. That revolution seems to have extended ev'en to the constitution of the mind of man. It has this of wonderful in it, that it resembles what Lord Verulam says of the operations of A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 5 nature : It was perfect, not only in all its elements and principles, but in all its members and its organs from the very beginning. The moral scheme of France furnishes the only pattern ever known, which they who admire will instantly resemble. It is indeed an inexhaustible reper- 5 tory of one kind of examples. In my wretched condition, though hardly to be classed with the living, I am not safe from them. They have tigers to fall upon animated strength. They have hyenas to prey upon carcasses. The national menagerie is collected by the first physiologists 10 of the time; and it is defective in no description of savage nature. They pursue, even such as me, into the obscurest retreats, and haul them before their revolution- ary tribunals. Neither sex, nor age — nor the sanctuary of the tomb is sacred to them. They have so determined 15 a hatred to all privileged orders, that they deny even to the departed, the sad immunities of the grave. They are not wholly without an object. Their turpitude purveys to their malice ; and they unplumb the dead for bullets to assassinate the living. If all revolutionists were not 20 proof against all caution, I should recommend it to their consideration, that no persons were ever known in history, either sacred or profane, to vex the sepulchre, and by their sorceries, to call up the prophetic dead, with any other event, than the prediction of their own disastrous 25 fate. — " Leave me, oh leave me to repose ! " In one thing I can excuse the Duke of Bedford for his attack upon me and my mortuary pension: He cannot readily comprehend the transaction he condemns. What I have obtained was the fruit of no bargain, the production 30 of no intrigue, the res< of no compromise, the effect of no solicitation. The first suggestion of it never came from me, mediately or immediately, to his majesty or any of his ministers. It was long known that the instant my 6 EDMUiW BURKE. engagements would permit it, and before the heaviest of all calamities had forever condemned me to obscurity and sorrow, I had resolved on a total retreat. I had executed that design. I was entirely out of the way of serving or 5 of hurting any statesman or any party, when the ministers so generously and so nobly carried into effect the spon- taneous bounty of the crown. Both descriptions have acted as became them. When I could no longer serve them, the ministers have considered my situation. When 10 I could no longer hurt them, the revolutionists have trampled on my infirmity. My gratitude, I trust, is equal to the manner in which the benefit was conferred. It came to me, indeed, at a time of life, and in a state of mind and body, in which no circumstance of fortune could 15 afford me any real pleasure. But this was no fault in the royal donor, or in his ministers, who were pleased, in acknowledging the merits of an invalid servant of the public, to assuage the sorrows of a desolate old man. It would ill become me to boast of anything. It would 20 as ill become me, thus called upon, to depreciate the value of a long life, spent with unexampled toil in the service of my country. Since the total body of my services, on account of the industry which was shown in them, and the fairness of my intentions, have obtained 25 the acceptance of my sovereign, it would be absurd in me to range myself on the side of the Duke of Bedford and the corresponding society, or, as far as in me lies, to permit a dispute on the rate at which the authority appointed by our constitution to estimate such things, has 30 been pleased to set them. Loose libels ought to be passed "by in silence and con- tempt. By me they have been so always. I knew that as long as I remained in public, I should live down the calumnies of malice, and the judgments of ignorance. If A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 7 I happened to be now and then in the wrong, as who is not, Uke all other men, I must bear the consequence of my faults and my mistakes. The libels of the present day, are just of the same stuff as the libels of the past. But they derive an importance from the rank of the persons 5 they come from, and the gravity of the place where they were uttered. In some way or other I ought to take some notice of them. To assert myself thus traduced is not vanity or arrogance. It is a demand of justice ; it is a demonstration of gratitude. If I am unworthy, the 10 ministers are worse than prodigal. On that hypothesis, I perfectly agree with the Duke of Bedford. For whatever I have been (I am now no more) I put myself on my country. I ought to be allowed a reason- able freedom, because I stand upon my deliverance ; and 15 no culprit ought to plead in irons. Even in the utmost latitude of defensive liberty, I wish to preserve all possi- ble decorum. Whatever it may be in the eyes of these noble persons themselves, to me their situation calls for the most profound respect. If I should happen to tres- 20 pass a little, which I trust I shall not, let it always be supposed that a confusion of characters may produce mistakes ; that, in the masquerades of the grand carnival of our age, whimsical adventures happen, odd things are said and pass off. If I should fail a single point in the 25 high respect I owe to those illustrious persons, I cannot be supposed to mean the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale of the House of Peers, but the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale of Palace Yard — the Dukes and Earls of Brentford. There they are on 30 the pavement ; there they seem to come nearer to my humble level, and, virtually at least, to have waived their high privilege. Making this protestation, I refuse all revolutionary 8 EDMUND BURKE. tribunals, where men have been put to death for no other reason than that they had obtained favors from the crown. I claim, not the letter, but the spirit of the old English law — that is, to be tried by my peers. I decline S his Grace's jurisdiction as a judge. I challenge the Duke of Bedford, as a juror, to pass upon the value of my services. Whatever his natural parts may be, I cannot recognize in his few and idle years the compe- tence to judge of my long and laborious life. If I can lo help it, he shall not be on the inquest of my quantum meruit. Poor rich man ! he can hardly know anything of public industry in its exertions, or can estimate its com- pensations when its work is done. I have no doubt of his Grace's readiness in all the calculations of vulgar 15 arithmetic ; but I shrewdly suspect that he is very little studied in the theory of moral proportions, and has never learned the rule of three in the arithmetic of policy and state. His Grace thinks I have obtained too much. I answer, 20 that my exertions, whatever they have been, were such as no hopes of pecuniary reward could possibly excite ; and no pecuniary compensation can possibly reward them. Between money and such services, if done by abler men than I am, there is no common principle of com- 25 parison : they are quantities incommensurable. Money is made for the comfort and convenience of animal life. It cannot be a reward for what mere animal life must, indeed, sustain, but never can inspire. With submission to his Grace, I have not had more than sufficient. As 30 to any noble use, I trust I know how to employ as well as he a much greater fortune than he possesses. In a more confined application, I certainly stand in need of every kind of relief and easement much more than he does. When I say I have not received more than I A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 9 deserve — is this the language I hold to Majesty? No! Far, very far, from it ! Before that presence I claim no merit at all. Everything towards me is favor and bounty. One style to a gracious benefactor ; another to a proud and insulting foe. 5 His Grace is pleased to aggravate my guilt, by charg- ing my acceptance of his Majesty's grant as a departure from my ideas, and the spirit of my conduct with regard to economy. If it be, my ideas of economy were false and ill founded. But they are the Duke of Bedford's 10 ideas of economy I have contradicted, and not my own. If he means to allude to certain bills brought in by me on a message from the throne in 1782, I tell him, that there is nothing in my conduct that can contradict either the letter or the spirit of those acts. Does he mean the 15 pay-office act ? I take it for granted he does not. The act to which he alludes is, I suppose, the establishment act. I greatly doubt whether his Grace has ever read the one or the other. The iirst of these systems cost me, with every assistance which my then situation gave 20 me, pains incredible. I found an opinion common through all the offices, and general in the public at large, that it would prove impossible to reform and methodize the office of paymaster-general. I undertook it, however, and I succeeded in my undertaking. Whether the 25 military service, or whether the general economy of our finances have profited by that act, I leave to those who are acquainted with the army, and with the treasury, to judge. An opinion full as general prevailed also at the same 30 time, that nothing could be done for the regulation of the civil-list establishment. The very attempt to intro- duce method into it, and any limitations to its services, was held absurd. I had not seen the man, who so much 10 EDMUND BURKE. as suggested one economical principle, or an economical expedient, upon that subject. Nothing but coarse ampu- tation, or coarser taxation, were then talked of, both of them without design, combination, or the least shadow 5 of principle. Blind and headlong zeal, or factious fury, were the whole contribution brought by the most noisy on that occasion-, towards the satisfaction of the public, or the relief of the crown. Let me tell my youthful censor that the necessities of lo that time required something very different from what others then suggested, or what his Grace now conceives. Let me inform him that it was one of the most critical periods in our annals. Astronomers have supposed that, if a certain comet, 1 5 whose path intersected the ecliptic, had met the earth in some (I forget what) sign, it would have whirled us along with it, in its eccentric course, into God knows what regions of heat and cold. Had the portentous comet of the Rights of Man (which "from its horrid hair shakes 20 pestilence and war," and " with fear of change perplexes monarchs "), had that comet crossed upon us in that internal state of England, nothing human could have prevented our being irresistibly hurried out of the high- way of heaven into all the vices, crimes, horrors, and 25 miseries of the French Revolution. Happily, France was not then Jacobinized. Her hostility was at a good distance. We had a limb cut off, but we preserved the body ; we lost our colonies, but we kept our Constitution. There was, indeed, much intestine 30 heat ; there was a dreadful fermentation. Wild and savage insurrection quitted the woods, and prowled about our streets in the name of Reform. Such was the distemper of the public mind, that there was no madman, in his maddest ideas and maddest projects, who might not count A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. \\ upon numbers to support his principles and execute his designs. Many of the changes, by a great misnomer called Parliamentary Reforms, went, not in the intention of all the professors and supporters of them, undoubtedly, but 5 went in their certain, and, in my opinion, not very remote effect, home to the utter destruction of the Constitution of this kingdom. Had they taken place, not France, but England, would have had the honor of leading up the death-dance of democratic revolution. Other projects, 10 exactly coincident in time with those, struck at the very existence of the kingdom under any Constitution. There are who remember the blind fury of some, and the lamen- table helplessness of others; here, a torpid confusion, from a panic fear of the danger — there, the same inac- 15 tion, from a stupid insensibility to it ; here, well-wishers to the mischief — there, indifferent lookers-on. At the same time, a sort of National Convention, dubious in its nature, and perilous in its example, nosed Parliament in the very seat of its authority, sat with a sort of superin- 20 tendence over it, and little less than dictated to it, not only laws, but the very form and essence of legislature itself. In Ireland things ran in a still more eccentric course. Government was unnerved, confounded, and in a manner suspended. Its equipoise was totally gone. 25 I do not mean to speak disrespectfully of Lord North. He was a man of admirable parts, of general knowledge, of a versatile understanding fitted for every sort of business, of infinite wit and pleasantry, of a delightful temper, and with a mind most perfectly disinterested. 3° But it would be only to degrade myself by a weak adula- tion, and not to honor the memory of a great man, to deny that he wanted something of the vigilance and spirit of command that the time required. Indeed, a 12 EDMUA'D BURKE. darkness next to the fog of this awful day lowered over the whole region. For a little time the helm appeared abandoned. Ipse diem noctemque negat discernere coelo, 5 Nee meminisse viaa media Palinurus in undl. At that time I was connected with men of high place in the community. They loved liberty as much as the Duke of Bedford can do ; and they understood it at least as well. Perhaps their politics, as usual, took a tincture 10 from their character, and they cultivated what they loved. The liberty they pursued was a liberty insepa- rable from order, from virtue, from morals, and from religion, and was neither hypocritically nor fanatically followed. They did not wish that liberty, in itself 15 one of the first of blessings, should in its perversion become the greatest curse which could fall upon man- kind. To preserve the Constitution entire, and practically equal to all the great ends of its formation, not in one single part, but in all its parts, was to them the first object. 20 Popularity and power they regarded alike. These were with them only different means of obtaining that object, and had no preference over each other in their minds, but as one or the other might afford a surer or a less certain prospect of arriving at that end. It is some 25 consolation to me, in the cheerless gloom which darkens the evening of my life, that with them I commenced my political career, and never for a moment, in reality nor in appearance, for any length of time, was separated from their good wishes and good opinion. 3° By what accident it matters not, nor upon what desert, but just then, and in the midst of that hunt of obloquy which ever has pursued me with a full cry through life, I had obtained a very considerable degree of public confi- A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 13 dence. I know well enough how equivocal a test this kind of popular opinion forms of the merit that obtained it. I am no stranger to the insecurity of its tenure. I do not boast of it. It is mentioned to show, not how highly I prize the thing, but my right to value the use I 5 made of it. I endeavored to turn that short-lived advan- tage to myself into a permanent benefit to my country. Far am I from detracting from the merit of some gentle- men, out of office or in it, on that occasion. No ! it is not my way to refuse a full and heaped measure of justice 10 to the aids that I receive. I have through life been willing to give everything to others, and to reserve nothing for myself but the inward conscience that I had omitted no pains to discover, to animate, to discipline, to direct the abilities of the country for its service, and to place 15 them in the best light to improve their age, or to adorn it. This conscience I have. I have never suppressed any man, never checked him for a moment in his course, by any jealousy, or by any policy. I was always ready, to the height of my means (and they were always infinitely 20 below liiy desires), to forward those abilities which over- powered my own. He is an ill-furnished undertaker who has no machinery but his own hands to work with. Poor in my own faculties, I ever thought myself rich in theirs. In that period of difficulty and danger, more especially, I 25 consulted and sincerely cooperated with men of all parties, who seemed disposed to the same ends, or to any main part of them. Nothing to prevent disorder was omitted : when it appeared, nothing to subdue it was left uncoun- selled nor unexecuted, as far as I could prevail. At the 30 time I speak of, and having a momentary lead, so aided and so encouraged, and as a feeble instrument in a mighty hand — I do not say I saved my country ; I am sure I did my country important service. There were few, indeed. U EDMUiVD BURKE. that did not at that time acknowledge it ; and that time was thirteen years ago. It was but one voice, that no man in the kingdom better deserved an honorable pro- vision should be made for him. 5 So much for my general conduct through the whole of the portentous crisis from 1780 to 1782, and the general sense then entertained of that conduct by my country. But my character, as a reformer, in the particular instances which the Duke of Bedford refers to, is so connected in 10 principle with my opinions on the hideous changes, which have since barbarized France, and spreading thence, threaten the political and moral order of the whole world, that it seems to demand something of a more detailed discussion. 15 My economical reforms were not, as his Grace may think, the suppression of a paltry pension or employment, more or less. Economy in my plan was, as it ought to be, secondary, subordinate, instrumental. I acted on state principles. I found a great distemper in the com- 20 monwealth ; and, according to the nature of the evil and of the object, I treated it. The malady was deep ; it was complicated, in the causes and in the symptoms. Through- out it was full of contra-indicants. On one hand govern- ment, daily growing more invidious from an apparent 25 increase of the means of strength, was every day growing more contemptible by real weakness. Nor was this dissolution confined to government commonly so called. It extended to Parliament ; which was losing not a little in its dignity- and estimation, by an opinion of its not 30 acting on worthy motives. On the other hand, the desires of the people, (partly natural and partly infused into them by art) appeared in so wild and inconsiderate a manner, with regard to the economical object (for I set aside for a moment the dreadful tampering with the body of the A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 15 constitution itself) that if their petitions had literally been complied with, the state would have been convulsed ; and a gate would have been opened, through which all prop- erty might be sacked and ravaged. Nothing could have saved the public from the mischiefs of the false reform 5 but its absurdity ; which would soon have brought itself, and with it all real reform, into discredit. This would have left a rankling wound in the hearts of the people, who would know they had failed in the accom- plishment of their wishes, but who, like the rest of 10 mankind in all ages, would impute the blame to anything rather than to their own proceedings. But there were then persons in the world, who nourished complaint ; and would have been thoroughly disappointed if the people were ever satisfied. I was not of that humor. I wished 15 that they should be satisfied. It was my aim to give to the people the substance of what I knew they desired, and what I thought was right whether they desired it or not, before it had been modified for them into senseless petitions. I knew that there is a manifest marked dis- 20 tinction, which ill men, with ill designs, or weak men incapable of any design, will constantly be confounding, that is, a marked distinction between change and reforma- tion. The former alters the substance of the objects themselves ; and gets rid of all their essential good, as 25 well as of all the accidental evil annexed to them. Change is novelty; and whether it is to operate any one of the effects of reformation at all, or whether it may not con- tradict the very principle upon which reformation is desired, cannot be certainly known beforehand. Reform 3° is, not a change in the substance, or in the primary modification of the object, but a direct application of a remedy to the grievance complained of. So far as that is removed, all is sure. It stops there ; and if it fails, the 16 EDMUND BURKE. substance which underwent the operation, at the very worst, is but where it was. All this, in effect, I think, but am not sure, I have said elsewhere. It cannot at this time be too often repeated, 5 line upon line, precept upon precept, until it comes into the currency of a proverb. To innovate is not to reform. The French revolutionists complained of everything ; they refused to reform anything; and they left nothing, no, nothing at all, imchanged. The consequences are before 10 us, not in remote history, not in future prognostication : they are about us, they are upon us. They shake the public security ; they menace private enjoyment. They dwarf the growth of the young ; they break the quiet of the old. If we travel, they stop our way. They infest us 15 in town; they pursue us to the country. Our business- is interrupted, our repose is troubled, our pleasures arf saddened, our very studies are poisoned and perverted, and knowledge is rendered worse than ignorance by the enormous evils of this dreadful innovation. The revolu 20 tion harpies of France, sprung from night and hell, 01 from that chaotic anarchy, which generates equivocally "all monstrous, all prodigious things," cuckoo-like, adul- terously lay their eggs, and brood over, and hatch them in the nest of every neighboring state. These obscene 25 harpies, who deck themselves, in I know not what divine attributes, but who in reality are foul and ravenous birds of prey (both mothers and daughters) flutter over our heads, and souse down upon our tables, and leave nothing unrent, unrifled, unravaged, or unpolluted with the slime 30 of their filthy offal. ^ ^ Tristius haud illis monstrum, nee saevior uUa Pestis, & ira Deiim Stygiis sese extulit undis. Virginei volucnim vultus ; faedissima ventris Proluvies ; uncaeque manus ; & pallida semper Ora fame — A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 17 If his Grace can contemplate the result of this complete innovation, or, as some friends of his will call it, reform, in the whole body of its solidity and compound- mass, at which, as Hamlet says, the face of heaven glows with horror and indignation, and which, in truth, makes every 5 reflecting mind and every feeling heart perfectly thought- sick, without a thorough abhorrence of everything they say and everything they do, I a"m amazed at the morbid strength or the natural infirmity of his mind. It was, then, not my love, but my hatred to innovation, 10 that produced my plan of reform. Without troubling myself with the exactness of the logical diagram, I con- sidered them as things substantially opposite. It was to prevent that evil that I proposed the measures which his Grace is pleased, and I am not sorry he is pleased, to 15 recall to my recollection. I had (what I hope that noble Duke will remember in all his operations) a state to pre- serve, as well as a state to reform. I had a people to gratify, but not to inflame or to mislead. I do not claim half the credit for what I did as for what I prevented from 20 being done. In that situation of the public mind, I did not undertake, as was then proposed, to new-model the House of Commons or the House of Lords, or to change the authority under which any oiBcer of the crown acted, who was suffered at all to exist. Crown, lords, commons, 25 judicial system, system of administration, existed as they had existed before, and in the mode and manner in which Here the Poet breaks the Ime, because he (and that He is Virgil) had not verse or language to describe that monster even as he had conceived her. Had he lived to our time, he would have been more overpowered with the reality than he was with the imagination. Virgil only knew the horror of the times before him. Had he lived to see the revolutionists and constitutionalists of France, he would have had more horrid and disgusting features of his harpies to describe, and more frequent failures in the attempt to describe them. IS EDAR/ND BURKE. they had always existed. My measures were, what I then truly stated them to the House to be, in their intent, heal- ing and mediatorial. A complaint was made of too much influence in the House of Commons : I reduced it in both 5 Houses ; and I gave my reasons, article by article, for every reduction, and showed why I thought it safe for the service of the state. I heaved the lead every inch of way I made. A disposition to expense was complained of : to that I opposed, not mere retrenchment, but a system of 10 economy, which would make a random expense, without plan or foresight, in future, not easily practicable. I pro- ceeded upon principles of research to put me in posses- sion of my matter; on principles of method to regulate it ; and on principles in the human mind and in civil 15 affairs to secure and perpetuate the operation. I con- ceived nothing arbitrarily ; nor proposed anything to be done by the will and pleasure of others, or my own ; but by reason, and by reason only. I have ever abhorred, since the first dawn of my understanding to this its 20 obscure twilight, all the operations of opinion, fancy, incli- nation, and will, in the affairs of government, where only a sovereign reason, paramount to all forms of legislation and administration, should dictate. Government is made for the very purpose of opposing that reason to will and 25 to caprice, in the reformers or in the reformed, in the governors or in the governed, in kings, in senates, or in people. On a careful review, therefore, and analysis, of all the component parts of the civil list, and on weighing them 30 against each other, in order to make, as much as possible, all of them a subject of estimate (the foundation and corner- stone of all regular provident economy) it appeared to me evident, that this was impracticable, whilst that part, called the pension list, was totally discretionary in its A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 19 amount. For this reason, and for this only, I proposed to reduce it, both in its gross quantity, and in its larger individual proportions, to a certainty : lest, if it were left without a general limit, it might eat up the civil list ser- vice ; if suffered to be granted in portions too great for the 5 fund, it might defeat its own end ; and by unlimited allow- ances to some, it might disable the crown in means of providing for others. The pension list was to be kept as a sacred fund; but it could not be kept as a constant open fund, sufficient for growing demands, if some 10 demands would wholly devour it. The tenor of the act will show that it regarded the civil list only, the reduc- tion of which to some sort of estimate was my great object. No other of the crown funds did I meddle with, be- 15 cause they had not the same relations. This of the four and a half per cents does his Grace imagine had escaped me, or had escaped all the men of business, who acted with me in those regulations? I knew that such a fund existed, and that pensions had been always granted on it, 20 before his Grace was born. This fund was full in my eye. It was full in the eyes of those who worked with me. It was left on principle. On principle I did what was then done ; and on principle what was left undone was omitted. I did not dare to rob the nation of all 25 funds to reward merit. If I pressed this point too close, I acted contrary to the avowed principles on which I went. Gentlemen are very fond of quoting me ; but if any one thinks it worth his while to know the rules that guided me in my plan of reform, he will read my printed speech 30 on that subject ; at least what is contained from page 230 to page 241 in the second volume of the collection which a friend has given himself the trouble to make of my publications. Be this as it may, these two bills (though 20 EDMUND BURKE. achieved with the greatest labor, and management of every sort, both within and without the house) were only a part, and but a small part, of a very large system, comprehending all the objects I stated in opening my 5 proposition, and indeed many more, which I just hinted at in my speech to the. electors of Bristol, when I was put out of that representation. All these, in some state or other of forwardness, I have long had by me. But do I justify his Majesty's grace on these grounds? lo I think them the least of my services. The time gave them an occasional value. What I have done in the way of political economy was far from confined to this body of measures. I did not come into Parliament to con my lesson. I had earned my pension before I set my foot in 15 St. Stephen's Chapel. I was prepared and disciplined to this political warfare. The first session I sat in Parlia- ment, I found it necessary to analyze the whole commer- cial, financial, constitutional, and foreign interests of Great Britain and its empire. A great deal was then done ; and 20 more, far more, would have been done, if more had been permitted by events. Then, in the vigor of my manhood, my constitution sunk under my labor. Had I then died (and I seemed to myself very near death), I had then earned for those who belonged to me more than the Duke 25 of Bedford's ideas of service are of power to estimate. But, in truth, these services I am called to account for are not those on which I value myself the most. If I were to call for a reward (which I have never done), it should be for those in which, for fourteen years without 30 intermission, I showed the most industry and had the least success ; I mean in the affairs of India. They are those on which I value myself the most; most for the importance, most for the labor, most for the judgment, most for constancy and perseverance in the pursuit. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 21 Others may value them most for the intention. In that, surely, they are not mistaken. Does his Grace think, that they who advised the crown to make my retreat easy, considered me only as an econo- mist? That, well understood, however is a good deal. If 5 I had not deemed it of some value, I should not have made political economy an object of my humble studies, from my very early youth to near the end of my service in Parliament, even before, (at least to any knowledge of mine) it had employed the thoughts of speculative men in 10 other parts of Europe. At that time it was still in its infancy in England, where, in the last century, it had its origin. Great and learned men thought my studies were not wholly thrown away, and deigned to communicate with me now and then on some particulars of their 'S immortal works. Something of these studies may appear incidentally in some of the earliest things I published. The House has been witness to their effect, and has profited of them more or less, for above eight and twenty years. To their estimate I leave the matter. 20 I was not, like his Grace of Bedford, swaddled, and rocked, and dandled into a legislator : "JViiorin adversum" is the motto for a man like me. I possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts, that recommend men to the favor and protection of the great. I was not 25 made for a minion or a tool. As little did I follow the trade of winning the hearts by imposing on the under- standings of the people. At every step of my progress in life (for in every step was I traversed and opposed), and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to show my pass- 3° port, and again and again to prove my sole title to the honor of being useful to my country, by a proof that I was not wholly unacquainted with its laws, and the whole system of its interests both abroad and at home. Other- 22 EDMUXD BURKE. wise, no rank, no toleration even, for me. I had no arts but manly arts. On them I have stood, and, please God, in spite of the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauder- dale, to the last gasp will I stand. 5 Had his Grace condescended to inquire concerning the person whom he has not thought it below him to reproach, he might have found, that, in the whole course of my life, I have never, on any pretence of economy, or any other pretence, so much as in a single instance, stood 10 between any man and his reward of service or his encouragement in useful talent and pursuit, from the high- est of those services and pursuits to the lowest. On the contrary, I have on a hundred occasions exerted myself with singular zeal to forward every man's even tolerable 15 pretensions. I have more than once had good-natured reprehensions from my friends for carrying the matter to something bordering on abuse. This line of conduct, whatever its merit might be, was partly owing to natural disposition, but I think full as much to reason and prin- 20 ciple. I looked on the consideration of public service or public ornament to be real and very justice ; and I ever held a scanty and penurious justice to partake of the nature of a wrong. I held it to be, in its consequences, the worst economy in the world. In saving money I soon 25 can count up all the good I do ; but when by a cold penury I blast the abilities of a nation, and stunt the growth of its active energies, the ill I may do is beyond all calculation. Whether it be too much or too little, what- ever I have done has been general and systematic. I 30 have never entered into those trifling vexations, and oppres- sive details, that have been falsely and most ridiculously laid to my charge. Did I blame the pensions given to Mr. Barre and Mr. Dunning between the proposition and execution of my A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 23 plan? No! surely, no ! Those pensions were within my principles. I assert it, those gentlemen deserved their pensions, their titles, — all they had ; and if more they had, I should have been but pleased the more. They were men of talents; they were men of service. I put s the profession of the law out of the question in one of them. It is a service that rewards itself. But their public service, though, from their abilities unquestionably of more value than mine, in its quantity and in its dura- tion was not to be mentioned with it. But I never could lo drive a hard bargain in my life, concerning any matter whatever ; and least of all do I know how to haggle and huckster with merit. Pension for myself I obtained none ; nor did I solicit any. Yet I was loaded with hatred for everything that was withheld, and with obloquy for 15 everything that was given. I was thus left to support the grants of a name ever dear to me, and ever venerable to the world, in favor of those, who were no friends of mine or of his, against the rude attacks of those who were at that time friends to the grantees, and their own zealous parti- 20 sans. I have never heard the Earl of Lauderdale com- plain of these pensions. He finds nothing wrong till he comes to me. This is impartiality, in the true modern revolutionary style. Whatever I did at that time, so far as it regarded order 25 and economy, is stable and eternal ; as all principles must be. A particular order of things may be altered ; order itself cannot lose its value. As to other particulars, they are variable by time and by circumstances. Laws of regulation are not fundamental laws. The public exigen- 30 cies are the masters of all such laws. They rule the laws, and are not to be ruled by them. They who exercise the legislative power at the time must judge. It may be new to his Grace, but I beg leave to tell him 24 EDMUND BURKE. that mere parsimony is not economy. It is separable in theory from it ; and in fact it may or it may not be a part of economy, according to circumstances. Expense, and great expense, may be an essential part in true economy. 5 If parsimony were to be considered as one of the kinds of that virtue, there is, however, another and a higher economy. Economy is a distributive virtue, and consists, not in saving, but in selection. Parsimony requires no providence, no sagacity, no powers of combination, no 10 comparison, no judgment. Mere instinct, and that not an instinct of the noblest kind, may produce this false economy in perfection. The other economy has larger views. It demands a discriminating judgment, and a firm, sagacious mind. It shuts one door to impudent 15 importunity, only to open another, and a wider, to unpre- suming merit. If none but meritorious service or real talent were to be rewarded, this nation has not wanted, and this nation will not want, the means of rewarding all the service it ever will receive, and encouraging all the 20 merit it ever will produce. No state, since the foundation of society, has been impoverished by that species of profusion. Had the economy of selection and proportion been at all times observed, we should not now have had an overgrown Duke of Bedford, to oppress the industry 25 of humble men, and to limit, by the standard of his own conceptions, the justice, the bounty, or, if he pleases, the charity of the crown. His Grace may think as meanly as he will of my deserts in the far greater part of my conduct in life. It 30 is free for him to do so. There will always be some difference of opinion in the value of political services. But there is one merit of mine which he, of all men living, ought to be the last to call in question. I have supported with very great zeal, and I am told with some A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 25 degree of success, those opinions, or, if his Grace likes another expression better, those old prejudices, which buoy up the ponderous mass of his nobility, wealth, and titles. I have omitted no exertion to prevent him and them from sinking to that level, to which the meretricious s French faction, his Grace at least coquets with, omit no exertion to reduce both. I have done all I could to discountenance their inquiries into the fortunes of those who hold large portions of wealth without any apparent merit of their own. I have strained every nerve to keep lo the Duke of Bedford in that situation which alone makes him my superior. Your lordship has been a witness of the use he makes of that preeminence. But be it, that this is virtue ! Be it, that there is virtue in this well selected rigor ; yet all virtues are not equally 1 5 becoming to all men and at all times. There are crimes, undoubtedly there are crimes, which in all seasons of our existence, ought to put a generous antipathy in action ; crimes that provoke an indignant justice, and call forth a warm and animated pursuit. But all things, that concern, 20 what I may call, the preventive police of morality, all things merely rigid, harsh and censorial, the antiquated moralists, at whose feet I was brought up, would not have thought these the fittest matter to form the favorite virtues of young men of rank. What might have been 25 well enough, and have been received with a veneration mixed with awe and terror, from an old, severe, crabbed Cato, would have wanted something of propriety in the young Scipios, the ornament of the Roman nobility, in the flower of their life. But the times, the morals, the 30 masters, the scholars have all undergone a thorough revolution. It is a vile illiberal school, this new French academy of sans culottes. There is nothing in it that is fit for a gentleman to learn. 26 EDMUXD BURKE. Whatever its vogue may be, I still flatter myself, that the parents of the growing generation will be satisfied with what is to be taught to their children in Westminster, in Eton, or in Winchester : I still indulge the hope that S no grown gentleman or nobleman of our time will think of finishing at Mr. Thelwall's lecture whatever may have been left incomplete at the old universities of his country. I would give to Lord Grenville and Mr. Pitt for a motto, what was said of a Roman censor or praetor (or what was 10 he), who in virtue of a Senatus consultum shut up certain academies, " Cludere ludum impudentias jussit." Every honest father of a family in the kingdom will rejoice at the breaking up for the holidays, and will pray 1 5 that there may be very long vacations in all such schools. The awful state of the time, and not myself or my own justification, is my true object in what I now write ; or in what I shall ever write or say. It little signifies to the world what becomes of such things as me, or even as the 2o Duke of Bedford. What I say about either of us is nothing more than a vehicle, as you, my Lord, will easily perceive, to convey my sentiments on matters far more worthy of your attention. It is when I stick to my apparent first subject that I ought to apologize, not when 25 I depart from it. I therefore must beg your Lordship's pardon for again resuming it after this very short digres- sion ; assuring you that I shall never altogether lose sight of such matter as persons abler than I am may turn to some profit. 3° The Duke of Bedford conceives that he is obliged to call the attention of the House of Peers to his Majesty's grant to me, which he considers as excessive and out of all bounds. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 27 I know not how it has happened, but it really seems, that, whilst his Grace was meditating his well-considered censure upon me, he fell into a sort of sleep. Homer nods, and the Duke of Bedford may dream; and as dreams (even his golden dreams) are apt to be ill-pieced 5 and incongruously put together, his Grace preserved his idea of reproach to me, but took the subject-matter from the crown grants to his own family. This is "the stuif of which his dreams are made." In that way of putting things together his Grace is perfectly in the right. The 10 grants to the house of Russell were so enormous as not only to outrage economy, but even to stagger credibility. The Duke of Bedford is the leviathan among all the creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his unwieldy bulk, he plays and frolics in the ocean of the royal bounty. 15 Huge as he is, and whilst "he lies floating many a rood," he is still a creature. His ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very spiracles through which he spouts a torrent of brine against his origin, and covers me all over with the spray, everything of him and about him is from 20 the throne. Is it for him to question the dispensation of the royal favor ? I really am at loss to draw any sort of parallel between the public merits of his Grace, by which he justifies the grants he holds, and these services of mine, on the favor- 25 able construction of which I have obtained what his Grace so much disapproves. In private life, I have not at all the honor of acquaintance with the noble Duke ; but I ought to presume, — and it costs me nothing to do so, — that he abundantly deserves the esteem and love of all 30 who live with him. But as to public service, why, truly, it would not be more ridiculous for me to compare myself, in rank, in fortune, in splendid descent, in youth, strength, or figure, with the Duke of Bedford, than to make a 28 EDMUND BUKKE. parallel between his services and my attempts to be useful to my country. It would not be gross adulation, but un- civil irony, to say that he has any public merit of his own to keep alive the idea of the services by which his vast 5 landed pensions were obtained. My merits, whatever they are, are original and personal : his are derivative. It is his ancestor, the original pensioner, that has laid up this inexhaustible fund of merit which makes his Grace so very delicate and exceptious about the merit of all other gran- lo tees of the crown. Had he permitted me to remain in quiet, I should have said, "'T is his estate : that's enough. It is his by law : what have I to do with it or its history ? " He would naturally have said, on his side, "'Tis this man's fortune. He is as good now as my ancestor was two 15 hundred and fifty years ago. I am a young man with very old pensions ; he is an old man with very young pensions — that 's .all." Will his Grace, by attacking me, force me reluctantly to compare my little merit with that which obtained from 20 the crown those prodigies of profuse donation by which he tramples on the mediocrity of humble and laborious individuals ? I would willingly leave him to the herald's college, which the philosophy of the sans culottes, (prouder by far than all the garters, and Norroys and Clarencieux, 25 and rouge dragons that ever pranced in a procession of what his friends call aristocrats and despots) will abolish with contumely and scorn. These historians, recorders, and blazoners of virtues and arms, differ wholly from that other description of historians, who never assign any 30 act of politicians to a good motive. These gentle histo- rians, on the contrary, dip their pens in nothing but the milk of human kindness. They seek no further for merit than the preamble of a patent, or the inscription on a tomb. With them every man created a peer is first an A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 29 hero ready made. They judge of every man's capacity for office by the offices he has filled ; and the more offices the more ability. Every general officer with them' is a Marlborough; every statesman a Burleigh ; every judge a Murray or a Yorke. They, who alive, were laughed at or 5 pitied by all their acquaintance, make as good a figure as the best of them in the pages of Guillim, Edmondson, and Collins. To these recorders, so full of good nature to the great and prosperous, I would willingly leave the first Baron Russell, and Earl of Bedford, and the merits of his 10 grants. But the aulnager, the weigher, the meter of grants, will not suffer us to acquiesce in the judgment of the prince reigning at the time when they were made. They are never good to those who earn them. Well then ; since the new grantees have war made on them by the 15 old, and that the word of the sovereign is not to be taken, let us turn our eyes to history, in which great men have always a pleasure in contemplating the heroic origin of their house. The first peer of the name, the first purchaser of the 20 grants, was a Mr. Russell, a person of an ancient gentle- man's family, raised by being a minion of Henry the Eighth. As there generally is some resemblance of char- acter to create these relations, the favorite was in all likeli- hood much such another as his master. The first of 25 those immoderate grants was not taken from the ancient demesne of the crown, but from the recent confiscation of the ancient nobility of the land. The lion, having sucked the blood of his prey, threw the offal carcass to the jackal in waiting. Having tasted once the food of 3° confiscation, the favorites became fierce and ravenous. This worthy favorite's first grant was from the lay nobility. The second, infinitely improving on the enormity of the first, was from the plunder of the church. In truth, his 30 ED.MUXD BURKE. Grace is somewhat excusable for his dislike to a grant like mine, not only in its quantity, but in its kind, so different from his own. Mine was from a mild and benevolent sovereign ; his 5 from Henry the Eighth. Mine had not its fund in the murder of any innocent person of illustrious rank,^ or in the pillage of any body of unoffending men. His grants were from the aggregate and consolidated funds of judgments iniquitously legal, 10 and from possessions voluntarily surrendered by the law- ful proprietors with the gibbet at their door. The merit of the grantee whom he derives from was that of being a prompt and greedy instrument of a levelling tyrant, who oppressed all descriptions of his people, but 1 5 who fell with particular fury on everything that was great and noble. Mine has been in endeavoring to screen every man, in every class, from oppression, and particularly in defending the high and eminent, who, in the bad times of confiscating princes, confiscating chief governors, or con- 20 fiscating demagogues, are the most exposed to jealousy, avarice, and envy. The merit of the original grantee of his Grace's pen- sions was in giving his hand to the work, and partaking the spoil, with a prince who plundered a part of the 25 national church of his time and country. Mine was in defending the whole of the national church of my own time and my own country, and the whole of the national churches of all countries, from the principles and the examples which lead to ecclesiastical pillage, thence to a ^ See history of the melancholy catastrophe of the Duke of Buck- ingham. Temp. Hen. 8. King Henry gave to his favorite the manor of Amersham, in Bucks, part of the estate of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, attainted in 1521. [Ed.] A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 31 contempt of all prescriptive titles, tlience to the pillage of all property, and thence to universal desolation. The merit of the origin of his Grace's fortune was in being a favorite and chief adviser to a prince who left no liberty to their native country. My endeavor was to ob- 5 tain liberty for the municipal country in which I was born, and for all descriptions and denominations in it. Mine was to support with unrelaxing vigilance every right, every privilege, every franchise, in this my adopted, my dearer, and more comprehensive country ; and not only to pre- 10 serve those rights in this chief seat of empire, but in every nation, in every land, in every climate, language, and religion, in the vast domain that still is under the protec- tion, and the larger that was once under the protection, of the British crown. ts His founder's merits were, by arts in which he served his master and made his fortune, to bring poverty, wretch- edness, and depopulation on his country. Mine were under a benevolent prince, in promoting the commerce, manufactures, and agriculture of his kingdom, — in which 20 his Majesty shows an eminent example, who even in his amusement is a patriot, and in hours of leisure an improver of his native soil. His founder's merit was the merit of a gentleman raised by the arts of a court and the protection of a Wolsey to 25 the eminence of a great and potent lord. His merit in that eminence was, by instigating a tyrant to injustice, to provoke a people to rebellion. My merit was, to awaken the sober part of the country, that they might put them- selves on their guard against any one potent lord, or any 30 greater number of potent lords, or any combination of great leading men of any sort, if ever they should attempt to proceed in the same courses, but in the reverse order, — that is, by instigating a corrupted populace to rebellion, 32 EDMUXD BUKKE. and, through that rebellion, introducing a tyranny yet worse than the tyranny which his Grace's ancestor sup- ported, and of which he profited in the manner we behold in the despotism of Henry the Eighth. 5 The political merit of the first pensioner of his Grace's house, was that of being concerned as a counsellor of state in advising, and in his person executing the condi- tions of a dishonorable peace with France ; the surren- dering the fortress of Boulogne, then our out-guard on the 10 continent. By that surrender, Calais, the key of France, and the bridle in the mouth of that power, was, not many years afterwards, finally lost. My merit has been in resisting the power and pride of France, under any form of its rule; but in opposing it with the greatest zeal and 1 5 earnestness, when that rule appeared in the worst form it could assume ; the worst indeed which the prime cause and principle of all evil could possibly give it. It was my endeavor by every means to excite a spirit in the House, where I had the honor of a seat, for carrying 2o on with early vigor and decision, the most clearly just and necessary war, that this or any nation ever carried on ; in order to save my country from the iron yoke of its power, and from the more dreadful contagion of its principles; to preserve, while they can be preserved, pure 25 and untainted, the ancient, inbred integrity, piety, good nature, and good humor of the people of England, from the dreadful pestilence which beginning in France, threatens to lay waste the whole moral, and in a great degree the whole physical world, having done both in the 30 focus of its most intense malignity. The labors of his Grace's founder merited the curses, not loud but deep, of the Commons of England, on whom he and his master had effected a complete Parliamentary reform, by making them in their slavery and humiliation, A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 33 the true and adequate representatives of a debased, degraded, and undone people. My merits were, in having had an active, though not always an ostentatious share, in every one act, without exception, of undisputed constitu- tional utility in my time, and in having supported on all 5 occasions, the authority, and efficiency, and the privileges of the Commons of Great Britain. I ended my services by a recorded and fully reasoned assertion on their own journals of their constitutional rights, and a vindication of their constitutional conduct. I labored in all things 10 to merit their inward approbation, and (along with the assistance of the largest, and greatest, and best of my endeavors) I received their free, unbiassed, pubHc, and solemn thanks. Thus stands the account of the comparative merits 15 of the Crown grants which compose the Duke of Bed- ford's fortune as balanced against mine. In the name of common sense, why should the Duke of Bedford think that none but of the House of Russell are entitled to the favor of the Crown. Why should he imagine that no 20 king of England has been capable of judging of merit but King Henry the Eighth ? Indeed, he will pardon me, he is a little mistaken : all virtue did not end in the first Earl of Bedford ; all discernment did not lose its vision when his creator closed his eyes. Let him remit his 25 rigor on the disproportion between merit and reward in others, and they will make no inquiry into the origin of his fortune. They will regard with much more satisfac- tion, as he will contemplate with infinitely more advantage, whatever in his pedigree has been dulcified by an exposure 30 to the influence of heaven in a long flow of generations from the hard, acidulous, metallic tincture of the spring. It is little to be doubted that several of his forefathers in' that long series have degenerated into honor and virtue. 34 EDMUND BURKE. Let the Duke of Bedford (I am sure he will) reject with scorn and horror, the counsels of the lecturers, those wicked panders to avarice and ambition, who would tempt him in the troubles of his country, to seek another 5 enormous fortune from the forfeitures of another nobility, and the plunder of another church. Let him (and I trust that yet he will) employ all the energy of his youth, and all the resources of his wealth, to crush rebellious principles which have no foundation in morals, and re- 10 bellious movements, that have no provocation in tyranny. Then will be forgot the rebellions, which, by a doubtful priority in crime, his ancestor had provoked and extin- guished. On such a conduct in the noble Duke, many of his countrymen might, and with some excuse might, give 15 way to the enthusiasm of their gratitude, and in the dashing style of some of the old declaimers, cry out, that if the fates had found no other way in which they could give a ^Duke of Bedford and his opulence as props to a tottering world, then the butchery of the Duke 20 of Buckingham might be tolerated ; it might be regarded even with complacency, whilst in the heir of confiscation they saw the sympathizing comforter of the martyrs, who suffer under the cruel confiscation of this day ; whilst they beheld with admiration his zealous protection of the 25 virtuous and loyal nobility of France, and his manly support of his brethren, the yet standing nobility and gentry of his native land. Then his Grace's merit would be pure and new, and sharp, as fresh from the mint of honor. As he pleased he might reflect honor on his 30 predecessors, or throw it forward on those who were to succeed him. He might be the propagator of the stock of honor, or the root of it, as he thought proper. Had it pleased God to continue to me the hopes of 1 At si non aliam ventiiro fata Neroni, etc. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LOUD. 35 succession, I should have been, according to my medioc- rity and the mediocrity of the age I live in, a sort of founder of a family : I should have left a son, who, in all the points in which personal merit can be viewed, in science, in erudition, in genius, in taste, in honor, in S generosity, in humanity, in every liberal sentiment and every liberal accomplishment, would not have shown himself inferior to the Duke of Bedford, or to any of those whom he traces in his line. His Grace very soon would have wanted all plausibility in his attack upon that lo provision which belonged more to mine than to me. He would soon have supplied every deficiency, and symme- trized every disproportion. It would not have been for that successor to resort to any stagnant, wasting reservoir of merit in me, or in any ancestry. He had in himself a 15 salient, living spring of generous and manly action. Every day he lived he would have repurchased the bounty of the Crown, and ten times more, if ten times more he had received. He was made a public creature, and had no enjoyment whatever but in the performance of some duty. 20 At this exigent moment the loss of a finished man is not easily supplied. But a Disposer whose power we are little able to resist, and whose wisdom it behooves us not at all to dispute, has ordained it in another manner, and (whatever my 25 querulous weakness might suggest) a far better. The storm has gone over me ; and I lie like one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has scattered about me. I am stripped of all my honors, I am torn up by the roots, and lie prostrate on the earth. There, and pros- 3° trate there, I most unfeignedly recognize the divine justice, and in some degree submit to it. But whilst I humble myself before God, I do not know that it is for- bidden to repel the attacks of unjust and inconsiderate 36 EDMUND BURKE. men. The patience of Job is proverbial. After some of the convulsive struggles of our irritable nature, he sub- mitted himself, and repented in dust and ashes. But even so I do not find him blamed for reprehending, and 5 with a considerable degree of verbal asperity, those ill- natured neighbors of his who visited his dunghill to read moral, political, and economical lectures on his misery. I am alone. I have none to meet my enemies in the gate. Indeed, my lord, I greatly deceive myself if in this 10 hard season I would give a peck of refuse wheat for all that is called fame and honor in the world. This is the appetite but of a few. It is a luxury, it is a privilege, it is an indulgence for those who are at their ease. But we are all of us made to shun disgrace, as we are made to IS shrink from pain, and poverty, and disease. It is an instinct ; and under the direction of reason, instinct is always in the right. I live in an inverted order. They who ought to have succeeded me are gone before me. They who should have been to me as posterity are in the 20 place of ancestors. I owe to the dearest relation (which ever must subsist in memory) that act of piety which he would have performed to me : I owe it to him to show that he was not descended, as the Duke of Bedford would have it, from an unworthy parent. 25 The Crown has considered me after long service : the Crown has paid the Duke of Bedford by advance. He has had a long credit for any service which he may per- form hereafter. He is secure, and long may he be secure, in his advance, whether he performs any services or not. 30 But let him take care how he endangers the safety of that Constitution which secures his own utility or his own insignificance, or how he discourages those who take up even puny arms to defend an order of things which, like the sun of heaven, shines alike on the useful and the A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 37 worthless. His grants are engrafted on the public law of Europe, covered with the awful hoar of innumerable ages. They are guarded by the sacred rules of prescription found in that full treasury of jurisprudence from which the jejuneness and penury of our municipal law has by 5 degrees been enriched and strengthened. This prescrip- tion I had my share (a very full share) in bringing to its perfection.' The Duke of Bedford will stand as long as prescriptive law endures — as long as the great, stable laws of property, common to us with all civilized nations, 10 are kept in their integrity, and without the smallest intermixture of the laws, maxims, principles, or precedents of the grand Revolution. They are secure against all changes but one. The whole Revolutionary system, institutes, digest, code, novels, text, gloss, comment, are 15 not only not the same, but they are the very reverse, and the reverse fundamentally, of all the laws on which civil life has hitherto been upheld in all the governments of the world. The learned professors of the rights of man regard prescription not as a title to bar all claim set up 20 against old possession, but they look on prescription as itself a bar against the possessor and proprietor. They hold an immemorial possession to be no more than a long-continued, and therefore an aggravated injustice. Such are their ideas, such their religion, and such their 25 law. But as to our country, and our race, as long as the well-compacted structure of our church and state, the sanctuary, the holy of holies of that ancient law, defended by reverence, defended by power, a fortress at once and a temple, shall stand inviolate on the brow of the British 30 Sion — as long as the British monarchy, not more limited than fenced by the orders of the State, shall, like the proud Keep of Windsor, rising in the majesty of propor- ' Sir George Sa%'ile's Act, called the Nullum Tempus Act. 3S EVMUND BURKE. tion, and girt with the double belt of its kindred and coeval towers — as long as this awful structure shall oversee and guard the subjected land, so long the mounds and dikes of the low, fat, Bedford level will have nothing 5 to fear from all the pickaxes of all the levellers of France. As long as our sovereign lord the king, and his faithful subjects, the lords and commons of this realm, — the triple cord which no man can break, — the solemn, sworn, constitutional frank-pledge of this nation, the firm guar- 10 antees of each other's being and each other's rights, the joint and several securities, each in its place and order, for every kind and ever}' quality of property and of dignity, — as long as these endure, so long the Duke of Bedford is safe, and we are all safe together, the high from the IS blights of envy and the spoliations of rapacity, the low from the iron hand of oppression and the insolent spurn of contempt. Amen ! and so be it, and so it will be, — Dum domus .iEnes Capitoli immobile saxum Accolet, imperiumque pater Romanus habebit. 20 But if the rude inroad of GaUic tumult, with its sophistical rights of man to falsify the account, and its sword as a make-weight to throw into the scale, shall be introduced into our city by a misguided populace, set on by proud, great men, themselves blinded and intoxicated by a frantic 25 ambition, we shall all of us perish and be overwhelmed in a common ruin. If a great storm blow on our coast, it will cast the whales on the strand, as well as the peri- winkles. His Grace will not survive the poor grantee he despises — no, not for a twelvemonth. If the great look 30 for safety in the services they render to this Gallic cause, it is to be foolish even above the weight of privilege allowed to wealth. If his Grace be one of those whom they endeavor to proselytize, he ought to be aware of the A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 39 character of the sect whose doctrines he is invited to embrace. With them insurrection is the most sacred of revolutionary duties to the state. Ingratitude to bene- factors is the first of revolutionary virtues. Ingratitude is, indeed, their four cardinal virtues compacted and 5 amalgamated into one ; and he will find it in everything that has happened since the commencement of the philo- sophic Revolution to this hour. If he pleads the merit of having performed the duty of insurrection against the order he lives in, — God forbid he ever should ! — the 10 merit of others will be to perform the duty of insurrection against him. If he pleads — again God forbid he should! and I do not suspect he will — his ingratitude to the crown for its creation of his family, others will plead their right and duty to pay him in kind. They will laugh, 15 indeed they will laugh, at his parchment and his wax. His deeds will be drawn out with the rest of the lumber of his evidence-room, and burnt to the tune of Qa ira in the courts of Bedford (then Equality) House. Am I to blame, if I attempt to pay his Grace's hostile 20 reproaches to me with a friendly admonition to himself ? Can I be blamed, for pointing out to him in what manner he is like to be affected, if the sect of the cannibal philoso- phers of France should proselytize any considerable part of this people, and, by their joint proselytizing arms, 25 should conquer that government, to which his Grace does not seem to me to give all the support his own security demands ? Surely it is proper, that he, and that others like him, should know the true genius of this sect ; what their opinions are ; what they have done ; and to 3° whom ; and what (if a prognostic is to be formed from the dispositions and actions of men) it is certain they will do hereafter. He ought to know, that they have sworn assistance, the only engagement they ever will 40 EDMUND BURKE. keep, to all in this country, who bear a resemblance to themselves, and who think as such, that The whole duty of man consists in destruction. They are a misallied and disparaged branch of the house of Nimrod. They 5 are the Duke of Bedford's natural hunters, and he is their natural game. Because he is not very profoundly reflecting, he sleeps in profound security: they, on the contrary, are always vigilant, active, enterprizing, and though far removed from any knowledge, which makes 10 men estimable or useful, in all the instruments and resources of evil, their leaders are not meanly instructed, or insufficiently furnished. In the French revolution everything is new; and, from want of preparation to meet so unlooked-for an evil, everything is dangerous. 15 Never, before this time, was a set of literary men, con- verted into a gang of robbers and assassins. Never before, did a den of bravoes and banditti, assume the garb and tone of an academy of philosophers. Let me tell his Grace, that an union of such characters, 20 monstrous as it seems, is not made for producing despi- cable enemies. But if they are formidable as foes, as friends they are dreadful indeed. The men of property in France confiding in a force, which seemed to be irre- sistible, because it had never been tried, neglected to 25 prepare for a conflict with their enemies at their own weapons. They were found in such a situation as the Mexicans were, when they were attacked by the dogs, the cavalry, the iron, and the gunpowder of a handful of bearded men, whom they did not know to exist in nature. 30 This is a comparison that some, I think, have made ; and it is just. In France they had their enemies within their houses. They were even in the bosoms of many of them. But they had not sagacity to discern their savage character. They seemed tame, and even caressing. They A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 41 had nothing but douce humanite in their mouth. They could not bear the punishment of the mildest laws on the greatest criminals. The slightest severity of justice made their flesh creep. The very idea that war existed in the world disturbed their repose. Military glory was no 5 more, with them, than- a splendid infamy. Hardly would they hear of self-defence, which they reduced within such bounds, as to leave it no defence at all. All this while they meditated the confiscations and massacres we have seen. Had any one told these unfortunate noblemen 10 and gentlemen, how, and by whom, the grand fabric of the French monarchy under which they flourished would be sub- verted, they would not have pitied him as a visionary, but would have turned from him as what they call a mauvais plaisant. Yet we have seen what has happened. The 15 persons who have suffered from the cannibal philosophy of France, are so like the Duke of Bedford, that nothing but his Grace's probably not speaking quite so good French, could enable us to find out any difference. A great many of them had as pompous titles as he, and 20 were of full as illustrious a race : some few of them had fortunes as ample ; several of them, without meaning the least disparagement to the Duke of Bedford, were as wise, and as virtuous, and as valiant, and as well edu- cated, and as complete in all the lineaments of men of 25 honor as he is. And to all this they had added the powerful out-guard of a military profession, which, in its nature, renders men somewhat more cautious than those, who have nothing to attend to but the lazy enjoy- ment of undisturbed possessions. But security was their 30 ruin. They are dashed to pieces in the storm, and our shores are covered with the wrecks. If they had been aware that such a thing might happen, such a thing never could have happened. 42 EDMUXD BURKE. I assure his Grace, that if I state to him the designs of his enemies in a manner which may appear to him ludi- crous and impossible, I tell him nothing that has not exactly happened, point by point, but twenty-four miles 5 from our own shore. I assure him that the Frenchified faction, more encouraged, than others are warned by what has happened in France, look at him and his landed possessions as an object at once of curiosity and rapacity. He is made for them in every part of their double char- 10 acter. As robbers, to them he is a noble booty ; as specu- latists, he is a glorious subject for their experimental philosophy. He affords matter for an extensive analysis in all the branches of their science, geometrical, physical, civil, and political. These philosophers are fanatics. 15 Independent of any interest, which, if it operated alone, would make them much more tractable, they are carried with such a headlong rage towards every desperate trial, that they would sacrifice the whole human race to the slightest of their experiments. I am better able to enter 20 into the character of this description of men than the noble Duke can be. I have lived long and variously in the world. Without any considerable pretensions to litera- ture in myself, I have aspired to the love of letters. 1 have lived for a great many years in habitudes with those 25 who professed them. I can form a tolerable estimate of what is likely to happen from a character chiefly depend- ent for fame and fortune on knowledge and talent, as well in its morbid and perverted state as in that which is sound and natural. Naturally men so formed and finished are 30 the first gifts of Providence to the world. But when they have once thrown off the fear of God, which was in all ages too often the case, and the fear of man, which is now the case, and when in that state they come to under- stand one another, and to act in corps, a more dreadful A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 43 calamity cannot arise out of hell to scourge mankind. Nothing can be conceived more hard than the heart of a thorough-bred metaphysician. It comes nearer to the cold malignity of a wicked spirit than to the frailty and passion of a man. It is like that of the Principle of Evil s himself, incorporeal, pure, unmixed, dephlegmated, defe- cated evil. It is no easy operation to eradicate humanity from the human breast. What Shakespeare calls the "compunctious visitings of nature" will sometimes knock at their hearts, and protest against their murderous specu- lo lations. But they have a means of compounding with their nature. Their humanity is not dissolved : they only give it a long prorogation. They are ready to declare that they do not think two thousand years too long a period for the good that they pursue. It is remarkable 15 that they never see any way to their projected good but by the road of some evil. Their imagination is not fatigued with the contemplation of human suffering through the wild waste of centuries added to centuries of misery and desolation. Their humanity is at their horizon, and, like 20 the horizon, it always flies before them. The geome- tricians and the chemists bring — the one from the dry bones of their diagrams, and the other from the soot of their furnaces — dispositions that make them worse than indifferent about those feelings and habitudes which are 25 the supports of the moral world. Ambition is come upon them suddenly ; they are intoxicated with it, and it has rendered them fearless of the danger which may from thence arise to others or to themselves. These philoso- phers consider men in their experiments no more than 3° they do mice in an air-pump, or in a recipient of mephitic gas. Whatever his Grace may think of himself, they look upon him, and everything that belongs to him, with no more regard than they do upon the whiskers of that little, 44 EVJIUiVV BURKE. long-tailed animal that has been long the game of the grave, demure, insidious, spring-nailed, velvet-pawed, green- eyed philosophers, whether going upon two legs or upon four. 5 His Grace's landed possessions are irresistibly inviting to an agrarian experiment. They are a downright insult upon the rights of man. They are more extensive than the territory of many of the Grecian republics, and they are, without comparison, more fertile than most of them. lo There are now republics in Italy, in Germany, and in Switzerland which do not possess anything like so fair and ample a domain. There is scope for seven philoso- phers to proceed in their analytical experiments upon Harrington's seven different forms of republics in the 15 acres of this one duke. Hitherto they have been wholly unproductive to speculation, fitted for nothing but to fatten bullocks, and to produce grain for beer, still more to stupefy the dull English understanding. Abbd Sieyfes has whole nests of pigeon-holes full of constitutions ready 20 made, ticketed, sorted, and numbered, suited to every season and every fancy ; some with the top of the pattern at the bottom, and some with the bottom at the top ; some plain, some flowered ; some distinguished for their sim- plicity, others for their complexity ; some of blood color, 25 some of boue de Paris ; some with directories, others with- out a direction ; some with councils of elders and councils of youngsters, some without any council at all ; some where the electors choose the representatives, others where the representatives choose the electors ; some in 30 long coats, some in short cloaks ; some with pantaloons, some without breeches ; some with five-shilling qualifica- tions, some totally unqualified. So that no constitution- fancier may go unsuited from his shop, provided he loves a pattern of pillage, oppression, arbitrary imprisonment, A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 45 confiscation, exile, revolutionary judgment, and legalized, premeditated murder, in any shapes into which they can be put. What a pity it is that the progress of experi- mental philosophy should be checked by his Grace's monopoly ! Such are their sentiments, I assure him ; 5 such is their language, when they dare to speak ; and such are their proceedings, when they have the means to act. Their geographers, and geometricians, have been some time out of practice. It is some time since they have 10 divided their own country into squares. That figure has lost the charms of its novelty. They want new lands for new trials. It is not only the geometricians of the republic that find him a good subject, the chemists have bespoke him after the geometricians 15 have done with him. As the first set have an eye on his Grace's lands, the chemists are not less taken with his buildings. They consider mortar as a very anti- revolutionary invention in its present state ; but prop- erly employed, an admirable material for overturning all 20 establishments. They have found that the gunpowder of rums is far the fittest for making other ruins, and so ad infinitum. They have calculated what quantity of matter convertible into nitre is to be found in Bedford House, in Woburn Abbey, and in what his Grace and 25 his trustees have still suffered to stand of that foolish royalist Inigo Jones, in Covent Garden. Churches, play- houses, coffee-houses, all alike are destined to be mingled, and equallized, and blended into one common rubbish ; and well sifted, and lixiviated, to crystallize into true 30 democratic explosive insurrectionary nitre. Their acad- emy del Cimento (per antiphrasin) with Morveau and Has- senfrats at its head, have computed that the brave sans culottes may make war on all the aristocracy of Europe -If. EVMUND BURKE. for a twelvemonth, out of the rubbish of the Duke o± Bedford's buildings.^ While the Morveaux and Priestleys are proceeding with these experiments upon the Duke of Bedford's houses, the S Sieyfes, and the rest of the analytical legislators, and constitution-venders, are quite as busy in- their trade of decomposing organization, in forming his Grace's vassals into primary assemblies, national guards, first, second and third requisitioners, committees of research, conduc- 10 tors of the travelling guillotine, judges of revolutionary tribunals, legislative hangmen, supervisors of domiciliary visitation, exactors of forced loans, and assessors of the maximum. The din of all this smithery may some time or other 15 possibly wake this noble Duke, and push him to an 1 There is nothing, on which the leaders of the republic, one and indivisible, value themselves, more than on the chemical operations, by which, through science, they convert the pride of the aristocracy to an instrument of its own destruction — on the operations by which they reduce the magnificent ancient country seats of the nobility, decorated with the feudal titles of Duke, Marquis, or Earl, into magazines of what they call revolutionary gunpowder. They tell us, that hitherto things " had not yet been properly and in a revolutionary manner explored." "The strong chateaus, those feudal fortresses, that were ordered to be demolished, attracted next the attention of your committee. Nature there had secretly regained her rights, and had produced saltpetre for the purpose, as it should seem, of facilitating the executioti of your decree by preparing the means of destruction. From these ruins, which still frown on the liberties of the republic, we have extracted the means of producing good; and those piles, which have hitherto glutted the pride of despots, and covered the plots of La Vendee will soon furnish where- withal to tame the traitors, and to overwhelm the disaffected." — " The rebellious cities also, have afforded a large quantity of salt- petre. Commune Affranchie, (that is, the noble city of Lyons reduced in many parts to an heap of ruins) and Toulon will pay a second tribute to our artillery." Report, ist February, 1794. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 47 endeavor to save some little matter from their experi- mental philosophy. If he pleads his grants from the Crown, he is ruined at the outset. If he pleads he has received them from the pillage of superstitious corpora- tions, this indeed will stagger them a little, because 5 they are enemies to all corporations, and to all religion. However, they will soon recover themselves, and will tell his Grace, or his learned council, that all such property belongs to the nation; and that it would be more wise for him, if he wishes to live the natural term of a citizen, (that 10 is, according to Condorcet's calculation, six months on an average) not to pass for an usurper upon the national property. This is what the Serjeants at law of the rights of man, will say to the puny apprentices of the common law of England. 15 Is the genius of philosophy not yet known ? You may as well think the garden of the Tuilleries was well protected with the cords of ribbon insultingly stretched by the national assembly to keep the sovereign canaille from intruding on the retirement of the poor king of the 20 French, as that such flimsy cobwebs will stand between the savages of the revolution and their natural prey. Deep philosophers are no triflers ; brave sans culottes are no formalists. They will no more regard a Marquis of Tavistock than an Abbot of Tavistock; the Lord of 25 Woburn will not be more respectable in their eyes than the Prior of Woburn ; they will make no difference between the superior of a Covent Garden of nuns and of a Covent Garden of another description. They will not care a rush whether his coat is long or short ; whether the color 30 be purple or blue and buff. They will not trouble their heads, with what part of his head, his hair is cut from ; and they will look with equal respect on a tonsure and a crop. Their only question will be that of their Legendre, 4S EDMUND BURKE. or some other of their legislative butchers, how he cuts up ? How he tallows in the cawl, or on the kidneys ? Is it not a singular phenomenon, that, whilst tlie sans culottes carcass-butchers and the philosophers of the 5 shambles are pricking their dotted lines upon his hide, and, like the print of the poor ox that we see in the shop windows at Charing Cross, alive as he is, and thinking no harm in the world, he is divided into rumps, and sirloins, and briskets, and into all sorts of pieces for roasting, 10 boiling, and stewing, that all the while they are measuring him, his Grace is measuring me — is invidiously comparing the bounty of the Crown with the deserts of the defender of his order, and in the same moment fawning on those who have the knife half out of the sheath ? Poor innocent! — 15 " Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood." No man lives too long who lives to do with spirit and suffer with resignation what Providence pleases to com- mand or inflict ; but, indeed, they are sharp incommodities 20 which beset old age. It was but the other day, that, on putting in order some things which had been brought- here, on my taking leave of London forever, I looked over a number of fine portraits, most of them of persons now dead, but whose society, in my better days, made this 35 a proud and happy place. Amongst these was the picture of Lord Keppel. It was painted by an artist worthy of the subject, the excellent friend of that excellent man from their earliest youth, and a common friend of us both, with whom we lived for many years without a moment of 30 coldness, of peevishness, of jealousy, or of jar, to the day of our final separation. I ever looked on Lord Keppel as one of the greatest and best men of his age ; and I loved, and cultivated him A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 49 accordingly. He was much in my lieart, and I believe I was in his to the very last beat. It was after his trial at Portsmouth that he gave me this picture. With what zeal and anxious affection I attended him through that his agony of glory, what part my son took in the early flush 5 and enthusiasm of his virtue, and the pious passion with which he attached himself to all my connections, with what prodigality we both squandered ourselves in courting almost every sort of enmity for his sake, I believe he felt, just as I should have felt such friendship on such an 10 occasion. I partook indeed of this honor, with several of the first, and best, and ablest in the kingdom, but I was behindhand with none of them ; and I am sure, that if to the eternal disgrace of this nation, and to the total anni- hilation of every trace of honor and virtue in it, things 15 had taken a different turn from what they did, I should have attended him to the quarter-deck with no less good will and more pride, though with far other feelings than I partook of the general flow of national joy that attended the justice that was done to his virtue. 20 Pardon, my lord, the feeble garrulity of age, which loves to diffuse itself in discourse of the departed great. At my years, we live in retrospect alone, and, wholly unfitted for the society of vigorous life, we enjoy — the best balm to all wounds — the consolation of friendship, 25 in those only whom we have lost forever. Feeling the loss of Lord Keppel at all times, at no time did I feel it so much as on the first day when I was attacked in the House of Lords. Had he lived, that reverend form would have risen in 30 its place, and, with a mild, parental reprehension to his nephew, the Duke of Bedford, he would have told him that the favor of that gracious Prince who had honored his virtues with the government of the navy of Great so EDMUND BURKE. Britain, and with a seat in the hereditary great council of his kingdom, was not undeservedly shown to the friend of the best portion of his life, and his faithful companion and counsellor under his rudest trials. He would have 5 told him, that, to whomever else these reproaches might be becoming, they were not decorous in his near kindred. He would have told him, that when men in that rank lose decorum, they lose everything. On that day I had a loss in Lord Keppel ; but the 10 public loss of him in this awful crisis — ! I speak from much knowledge of the person, he never would have listened to any compromise with the rabble rout of this sans culotterie of France. His goodness of heart, his reason, his taste, his public duty, his principles, his preju- 15 dices, would have repelled him forever from all connection with that horrid medley of madness, vice, impiety, and crime. Lord Keppel had two countries, one of descent, and one of birth. Their interest and their glory are the same, 20 and his mind was capacious of both. His family was noble, and it was Dutch ; that is, he was of the oldest and purest nobility that Europe can boast, among a people renowned above all others for love of their native land. Though it was never shown in insult to any human being, 25 Lord Keppel was something high. It was a wild stock of pride, on which the tenderest of all hearts had grafted the milder virtues. He valued ancient nobility ; and he was not disinclined to augment it with new honors. He valued the old nobility and the new, not as an excuse for 30 inglorious sloth, but as an incitement to virtuous activity. He considered it' as a sort of cure for selfishness and a narrow mind ; conceiving that a man born in an elevated place, in himself was nothing, but everything in what went before, and what was to come after him. Without much A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 51 speculation, but by the sure instinct of ingenuous feelings, and by the dictates of plain unsophisticated natural under- standing, he felt, that no great Commonwealth could by any possibility long subsist, without a body of some kind or other of nobility, decorated with honor, and fortified 5 by privilege. This nobility forms the chain that connects the ages of a nation, which otherwise (with Mr. Paine) would soon be taught that no one generation can bind another. He felt that no political fabric could be well made without some such order of things as might, through 10 a series of time, afford a rational hope of securing unity, coherence, consistency, and stability to the state. He felt that nothing else can protect it against the levity of courts, and the greater levity of the multitude. That to talk of hereditary monarchy without anything else of 15 hereditary reverence in the commonwealth, was a low- minded absurdity ; fit only for those detestable " fools aspiring to be knaves," who began to forge in 1789, the false money of the French constitution. — That it is one fatal objection to all new fancied and new fabricated 20 republics, (among a people, who, once possessing such an advantage, have wickedly and insolently rejected it), that \h& prejudice of an old nobility is a thing that cannot be made. It may be improved, it may be corrected, it may be replenished : men may be taken from it, or 25 aggregated to it, but the thing itself is matter of inveterate opinion, and therefore cannot be matter of mere positive institution. He felt, that this nobility, in fact does not exist in wrong of other orders of the state, but by them, and for them. 3° I knew the man I speak of ; and, if we can divine the future, out of what we collect from the past, no person living would look with more scorn and horror on the impious parricide committed on all their ancestry, and 52 EDMUND BURKE. on the desperate attainder passed on all their posterity, by the Orleans, and tlie Rochefoucaults, and the Fay- ettes, and the Viscomtes de Noailles, and the false Peri- gords, and the long et catera of the perfidious sans 5 culottes of the court, who like demoniacs, possessed with a spirit of fallen pride, and inverted ambition, abdicated their dignities, disowned their families, betrayed the most sacred of all trusts, and by breaking to pieces a great link of society, and all the cramps and holdings of the 10 state, brought eternal confusion and desolation on their country. For the fate of the miscreant parricides them- selves he would have had no pity. Compassion for the myriads of men, of whom the world was not worthy, who by their means have perished in prisons, or on scaffolds, 15 or are pining in beggary and exile, would leave no room in his, or in any well-formed mind, for any such sensa- tion. We are not made at once to pity the oppressor and the oppressed. Looking to his Batavian descent, how could he bear to 20 behold his kindred, the descendants of the brave nobility of Holland, whose blood, prodigally poured out, had, more than all the canals, meers, and inundations of their country, protected their independence, to behold them bowed in the basest servitude to the basest and vilest of 25 the human race — in servitude to those who in no respect were superior in dignity, or could aspire to a better place than that of hangman to the tyrants to whose sceptred pride they had opposed an elevation of soul that surmounted and overpowered the loftiness of Castile, the haughtiness 30 of Austria, and the overbearing arrogance of France ! Could he with patience bear, that the children of that nobility, who would have deluged their country and given it to the sea, rather than submit to Louis XIV. who was then in his meridian glory, when his arms were conducted A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 53 by the Turennes, by the Luxembourgs, by the Boufflers ; when his councils were directed by the Colberts, and the Louvois ; when his tribunals were filled by the Lamoig- nons and the Daguesseaus — that these should be given up to the cruel sport of the Pichegrus, the Jourdans, 5 the Santerres, under the Rollands, and Brissots, and Gorsas, and Robespierres, the Reubels, the Carnots, and Talliens, and Dantons, and the whole tribe of regicides, robbers, and revolutionary judges, that, from the rotten carcass of their own murdered country, have poured 10 out innumerable swarms of the lowest, and at once the most destructive of the classes of animated nature, which like columns of locusts, have laid waste the fairest part of the world. Would Keppel have borne to see the ruin of the virtu- 15 ous patricians, that happy union of the noble and the burgher, who, with signal prudence and integrity, had long governed the cities of the confederate republic, the cherishing fathers of their country, who, denying com- merce to themselves, made it flourish in a manner unex- 20 ampled under their protection ? Could Keppel have borne that a vile faction should totally destroy this harmonious construction in favor of a robbing democracy founded on the spurious rights of man ? He was no great clerk, but he was perfectly well versed 25 in the interests of Europe ; and he could not have heard with patience that the country of Grotius, the cradle of the law of nations, and one of the richest repositories of all law, should be taught a new code by the ignorant flippancy of Thomas Paine, the presumptuous foppery of 30 La Fayette, with his stolen rights of man in his hand, the wild, profligate intrigue and turbulency of Marat, and the impious sophistry of Condorcet in his insolent addresses to the Batavian Republic. 54 EDMUND BURKE. Could Keppel, who idolized the House of Nassau, who was himself given to England along with the blessings of the British and Dutch Revolutions, with revolutions of stability, with revolutions which consolidated and married 5 the liberties and the interests of the two nations forever — could he see the fountain of British liberty itself in servi- tude to France ? Could he see with patience a Prince of Orange expelled as a sort of diminutive despot, with every kind of contumely, from the country which that 10 family of deliverers had so often rescued from slavery, and obliged to live in exile in another country, which owes its liberty to his house ? Would Keppel have heard with patience, that the con- duct to be held on such occasions was to become short 1 5 by the knees to the faction of the homicides, to entreat them quietly to retire ? or if the fortune of war should drive them from their first wicked and unprovoked inva- sion, that no security should be taken, no arrangement made, no barrier formed, no alliance entered into for the 20 security of that, which under a foreign name is the most precious part of England ? What would he have said, if it was even proposed that the Austrian Netherlands (which ought to be a barrier to Holland, and the tie of an alli- ance, to protect her against any species of rule that might 25 be erected, or even be restored in France) should be formed into a republic under her influence, and dependent upon her power ? But, above all, what would he have said if he had heard it made a matter of accusation against me by his nephew, 30 the Duke of Bedford, that I was the author of the war ? Had I a mind to keep that high distinction to myself (as from pride I might, but from justice I dare not), he would have snatched his share of it from my hand, and held it with the grasp of a dying convulsion to his end. A LETTER TO A NOBLE LORD. 55 It would be a most arrogant presumption in me to assume to myself the glory of what belongs to his Majesty, and to his ministers, and to his Parliament, and to the far greater majority of his faithful people ; but, had I stood alone to counsel, and that all were determined to be s guided by my advice, and to follow it implicitly, then I should have been the sole author of a war. But it should have been a war on my ideas and my principles. How- ever, let his Grace think as he may of my demerits with regard to the war with Regicide, he will find my guilt lo confined to that alone. He never shall, with the smallest color of reason, accuse me of being the author of a peace with Regicide. But that is high matter, and ought not to be mixed with anything of so little moment as what may belong to me, or even to the Duke of Bedford. 15 I have the honor to be, &c., Edmund Burke. NOTES. 3 1. To a Noble Lord. Earl Fitzwilliam (1748-1833) was the nobleman to whom this letter was addressed. He was nephew and heir to the Marquis of Rockingham (from whom he inherited ^^40,000 a year), and was one of the largest landholders in Ireland. He was a Whig grandee, a traditional leader of that party of which Charlemont and Gratton were the representatives in Ireland. He conveyed most delicately to Eurke, in a letter written immediately after his uncle's death, July 3, 1782, Lord Rockingham's desire that all Burke's indebt- edness to him should be cancelled : " I must recollect myself. It was my duty to have informed you that certain bonds are cancelled by a codicil of his will. He felt merit as he ought to have done, and he never did an action in his life more acceptable to your sincere friend, Fitzwilliam." 3 3. Duke of Bedford. For the history of the Duke of Bedford and the House Of Russell, see the Introduction. 3 4. Earl of Lauderdale. James Maitland, eighth Earl of Lauder- dale, was born at Hatton House in the parish of Ratho, Midlothian, Jan. 26, 1759. H^ ^^^ educated at the high school and the University of Edinburgh, spent one term at Trinity College, Oxford, and another at Glasgow, and entered at Lincoln's Inn, Feb. 26, 1777. He was elected to Parliament for Newport, Cornwall. His maiden speech (Feb. 26, 17S1) was in support of the second reading of Burke's bill for the regulation of the civil list establishments. In August, 1792, he visited France, accompanied by Dr. John Moore, the author of " Zeluco." He witnessed the attack on the Tuilleries, and made the acquaintance of Jean Pierre Brissot. He is said to have assumed " the rough costume of Jacobinism." He was violent, eccentric, and spoke with a Scotch accent. He was imposed upon by the Ireland forgeries of Shakespeare and signed the attestation in their favor. He married, Aug. 15, 17S2, Eleanor, only child of Anthony Todd, and had four sons, who died un- 58 A-Q I'ES. married. The second son, Anthony Maitland, tenth Earl of Lauder, dale, died in 1863, and with him the English barony of Lauderdale became extinct, but the Scotch earldom devolved on a cousin, Thomas Maitland. A daughter of James Maitland was married to James Balfour, and the distinguished statesman Arthur James Balfour is her grandson. See James Robertson, " Lady Blanche Balfour, a Reminiscence," Edin- burgh and London, 1897. 3 9. The New Sect : the body of persons holding the doctrines of the French revolutionists, whether speaking English or French. 3 13. Duke of Orleans (1747-93). Louis Philippe Joseph, Duke of Orleans, married the only daughter and heiress of the Duke of Pen- thievre, grand admiral of France. With her enormous wealth, which made him the richest man in France, he lived a life of cynical de- bauchery. He visited London and introduced m Paris a fondness for English sports, particularly horse racing (see Cowper's " Task," bk. ii, 11. 250-285). In various ways he displayed his liberalism. He headed the minority of forty-seven noblemen who seceded from their own estate and joined the Tiers fitat. The "gold of Orleans " was said to be the cause of the taking of the Bastille. He accepted the title of Citoyen figalite, conferred on him by the Commune of Paris, and was elected deputy for Paris to the Convention. He voted for the death of the king. Suspicion fell upon him, and he was guillotined during the Reign of Terror (Nov. 6, 1793). 3 14. Jean Pierre Brissot (1754-93) was the author of certain works on the philosophy of law. He was a disciple of Rousseau, and was continually occupied with humanitarian schemes which he pro- moted in pamphlets and journals. As an agent of the " Society of the Friends of the Blacks," he visited America, but returned to France at the outbreak of the Revolution. In the National Assembly he was a Girondist or Brissotin. He was guillotined Oct. 31, 1793. 3 25. Joseph Priestley (1733-1804), the Unitarian philosopher and scientist, was a native of the West Riding of Yorkshire. He dwelt upon speculative theology, compiled a " History of the Corruptions of Christianity," and engaged in polemic controversy at the same time that he was making chemical experiments and enjoying, in Birming- ham, the friendship of the Lunar Society or Soho Circle — of Watt and Boulton and Darwin. He discovered oxygen and investigated the nature of gases. His open and hearty sympathy with the French revo- lutionists made him unpopular, and in 1791, upon the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, a mob destroyed his chapel and house. His NOTES. 59 last years were spent in Pennsylvania at Northumberland upon the Susquehanna. 3 25. Thomas Paine (1736-1809), the author of "Rights of Man" and " Age of Reason," was the son of a Quaker staymaker in Nor- folk, and came to America with letters of introduction from Franklin. His paper "The Crisis" restored courage to the fainting troops at Valley Forge. His pamphlet entitled " Common Sense " " passed through the continent like an electric spark. It everywhere flashed conviction, and aroused a determined spirit, which resulted in the Declaration of Independence upon the 4th of July ensuing. The name of Paine was dear to every Whig heart, and had resounded throughout Europe " (Elkanah Watson). " Rights of Man," dedicated to Wash- ington, was an answer to Burke's " Reflections on the French Revolu- tion." It had an enormous circulation, though the government tried to suppress it. Paine was indicted for treason, but, being elected by Calais to the French Convention, he was allowed to leave England under sentence of outlawry. 4 6. William Wyndham Grenville (1759-1834), son of George Grenville, first Lord of the Treasury (1763-65), was a cousin of Pitt and a brother of the Marquis of Buckingham. He was successively Speaker of the House of Commons (1789), Secretary of State (1789), and Secretary of Foreign Affairs (1791)- He was a scholar and chan- cellor of the University of Oxford. He edited the "Letters of the Earl of Chatham to Thomas Pitt " {1804), and privately printed an annotated edition of Homer and " Nugae Metricae " (1824). Lord Grenville replied to the Duke of Bedford's attack, in the House of Lords, and William Windham defended Burke in the Commons. 4 25. John Zisca, the military hero of the Hussites, or Moravians, was bom near Budweis in Bohemia about 1360. He strongly fortified Mount Tabor and won many victories over the Imperial troops. He was blind of an eye, but was a resourceful, zealous leader. It is not the only occasion upon which Burke alludes to him; in a speech in 1782 he compared Fox to Zisca. 4 34. Lord Verulam. For Francis Bacon's theory which Burke refers to here, see "Novum Orgahum," bk. i, Aphorisms 79, 80; bk. ii, 17, 29; "Advancement of Learning,'' bk. ii ; and "De. Aug. Sci.," bk. iii, ch. i. 5 7. Though hardly to be classed with the living. " His health, though not intellectual powers, had been for some time in a declining state, which terminated in such debility and loss of muscular energy as to render motion and his usual exercise impracticable. To this state 60 AOTES. of unexpected if not premature decay, his habits of application, literary pursuits, and former laborious Parliamentary exertions no doubt tended. The stomach very imperfectly and painfully performed its office, and emaciation ensued. . . . And when the loss of his son destroyed that buoyancy of hope so long and fondly entertained of witnessing his suc- cess in life, no active principle of vitality remained to counteract the inroads of infirmity" (Prior, "Life of Burke," p. 448). S 19. Unplumb the dead for bullets. That is, literally, " stripping the dead of their leaden coffins after making them (not the dead, but the coffins) into bullets — a circumstance perfectly notorious at the time this ' Letter ' was written." The real significance of the passage seems to have been misunderstood, and certain errors of interpretation furnished material for satire to the writers of the Anti-Jacobin. Thus Robert Adair in an answer to Burke writes : " If Mr. Burke had been content with unplumbing a dead Russell and hewing Him (observe — not the coffin, but Him — the old dead Russell himself) into grape and canister to sweep down the whole generation of his descendants," etc. The comment of the editor of the Anti-Jacobin upon this extraordi- nary criticism is that the writer " transmutes the illustrious Head of the house of Russell into a metal to which it is not for us to say how near or how remote his affinity may possibly have been" (•' Poetry of Anti- Jacobin," p. 53, 2d ed., London, 1800). 5 24. Call up the prophetic dead : see I Sam. xxviii, 11-20. 63. A total retreat. Burke had announced his intention of leaving the House of Commons as soon as he had brought to an end the prose- cution of Hastings. He had hardly applied for the Chiltern Hundreds when his son, Richard Burke, died (August, 1794). 6 18. Assuage the sorrows. Gillray published a caricature (Feb. 26, 1796) called, " Pity the sorrows of a poor old man," presenting a view of the entrance to Bedford House, Bloomsbury. 6 27. The London Corresponding Society was an organization founded by Thomas Hardy, the shoemaker, in 1792, to unite the scat- tered forces of liberalism. 7 29. Old Palace Yard was southwest of the Houses of Parliament. There the pillory stood, and there Sir Walter Raleigh was beheaded. In the southeast corner stood the house through which the Gunpowder Plot conspirators carried their powder barrels into the vault, and on this spot Guy Fawkes and three of his fellow conspirators were exe- cuted (1606). New Palace Yard is the space enclosed within the gilded railings in front of Westminster Hall. Here Perkin Warbeck was set in the stocks, William Prynne and Leighton and Gates were pilloried. NOTES. 61 7 30. The Dukes and Earls of Brentford. The two kings of Brent- ford appear in Buckingham's satiric farce, " The Rehearsal." They enter hand in hand, smelling at the same nosegay, dance, sing, and walk together, 'like Juno's swans coupled and inseparable.' "The Rehearsal " is a composite work, largely written by George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, who In the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman and buffoon. Deyden. 8 8. Few and idle years. At this time the Duke of Bedford was thirty years old. 8 10. Quantum meruit : " as much as he deserved." It is a legal phrase, an action founded on an engagement that the defendant would pay to the plaintiff " as much as his services should deserve." 8 11. Poor rich man. William Cobbett in his preface to the Ameri- can edition of the " Letter to a Noble Lord," Philadelphia, 1796, writes : " This Letter, besides its other merits, contains a most excellent lesson for the ' poor rich men ' in this country. When I read of the Duke of Bedford presiding at a revolutionary club, I am naturally led to compare him to the poor rich merchants and others we sometimes see hoisted on town- meeting stage, stirring up king mob to gut their stores and burn their houses. These wealthy sans-culottes are here exactly what the Duke of Bedford is in England. Like him, their all depends on the stability of the government, and yet, like him, they are endeavoring to shake it to the ground. Mr. Burke tells this poor innocent Duke, that the cut- throat Philosophers would laugh at his parchment and his wax ; and would they not do the same here ? . Take care then, you rich, fat-brained, round-headed demagogues, you American Dukes of Bed- ford ; take care, for you vrill be the first that will fall a sacrifice to the principles you propagate." 8 25. Quantities incommensurable. Burke was at Beaconsfield when he wrote this " Letter. " His friend Dr. French Laurence, one of the most learned civilians of the day, superintended the publication in London. " Some of the learned civilian's clients would not have been pleased, on seeing him, in his old wig and gown, bending over his papers in court, and, as they imagined, carefully watching over their interests, if they had known that when he looked the gravest and seemed most absorbed just before rising to speak, he was really correct- ing a proof of the ' Letter to a Noble Lord,' or hurriedly writing a note to Burke on the subject in order to be in time to save the post " (Mac- Knight, " Life and Times of Edmund Burke," vol. iii, p. 653). 62 NOTES. Laurence's correspondence wilh Burke concerning changes and corrections in the text has been published under the title " Epistolary Correspondence of Edmund Burke and Dr. Laurence," London, 1827. Laurence objected to the phrase " quantities incommensurable," which he considered to be " a little mathematical inaccuracy " (" Correspond- ence," p. 39). Burke accepted his friend's alteration, but added in explana- tion, " Geometrically the term is proper enough — that is called simply and without relation, an incommensurable quantity or line which has no common measure or common aliquot part to measure it with some other. Everything to be measured with another must certainly refer to that to which it is to be measured, and this finds whether it be or be not commensurable — but I am sure it is common to use the term alone and absolute, because the usual reference is known, as the side of a square is incommensurable with the diagonal. It was a relation of course to the lines before spoken of. But it is perhaps less reconcilable to moral than to geometrical propriety. However, arrogant as it may seem, it is no way uncommon to say, that such or such a thing as I do, for such or such a person, or on such or such a motive, is what no money could make me undertake — or such as no money could com- pensate to me " (" Correspondence," p. 42). It will be seen that Burke had grasped the fundamental conceptions of the mathematics, and had illustrated his thought by a theory of ser- vices so continuous and so great as not to be measured by anything divisible into aliquot parts. In the thirteenth edition the reading is : " Between money and service of this kind (I said it long since when I was not myself concerned) there is no common measurer." 8 29. More than sufficient. In writing to Dr. Laurence, Burke said that his " Letter " was in " discharge of the debt I think due to ray own and to my son's memory, and to those who ought not to be considered prodigal in giving me what is beyond my merits, but not beyond my debts, as you know. The public — I won't dispute longer about it — has overpaid me. I wish I could overpay my creditors. They eat deep on what was designed to maintain me" ( "Correspondence, "p. 43). 9 4. One style to a gracious benefactor. Burke wrote " one lan- guage for a gracious benefactor, another for a proud and insulting foe." William Windham, Secretary-at-War, who, like Dr. Laurence, read the proof-sheets, feared that the expression would be misunderstood. He thought the Jacobins might say, " He is a man of a double tongue with two opposite languages for the same thing.'' At Windham's request, transmitted to Burke by Dr. Laurence, that the idea should be a little more opened, Burke wrote, " Can anything in the world be more com- NOTES. 63 mon than to use disqualifying phrases with regard to your friends when they are treating you with kindness, and to use the very contrary to enemies that crush you ? — 'I don't deserve, my dear Laurence, that you should take all this trouble for me in the midst of your pressing business' — would this be a proper answer for those who should say I was unworthy of having this done ? " ( " Correspondence," p. 42). Burke, however (or Laurence for him), changed language to style. Does the change relieve the passage of the fault that Windham indicated ? 9 8. My conduct with regard to economy. Burke's participation in Economical Reform in 1782 is thus described by the Earl of Stan- hope : " A Message was brought down to both Houses from the King recommending an effectual plan of retrenchment and economy, to be carried through all branches of the Public Expenditure and to include His Majesty's own Civil List. Lord Shelbume who moved the Address of Thanks in the Peers, would undertake, he said, to pledge himself, that the present was not as usual a mere Ministerial Addreste ; ' it was the genuine language of the Sovereign himself, proceeding from the heart.' In the House of Commons Burke was lavish of his praises. ' This,' he cried, ' is the best of Messages to the best of people from the best of Kings! ' But though Burke might be blamed for the exuberance of his panegyric, he incurred far heavier censure shortly afterwards by the curtailment of his Bill. When his measure was brought in, it was found to spare several of those institutions against which he had inveighed with the greatest energy two years before. Thus, besides a host of smaller affairs, once denounced and now reclaimed, both the Duchies of Cornwall and of Lancaster were left wholly unreformed. Some of these modifications in his original design might no doubt be prompted by Burke's own maturer thoughts ; in others, it is probable that he was merely called on to fulfil the de- cisions of the cabinet in which he had no share. Here was one of the many evils of excluding that great genius from the Councils of the State. " Among the offices to be abolished by this bill was that of the third Secretary of State, or of Secretary of State for the Colonies, which it was thought useless to keep when the colonies themselves were gone. The Lords of Trade and Plantations, the Lords of Police in Scotland, the principal officers of the Great Wardrobe and of the Jewel Office, the Treasurer of the Chambers, and the Cofferer of the Household, and the six clerks of the Board of Green Cloth were, with other rub- bish, swept away. It was promised that no pension exceeding three 64 NOTES. hundred pounds a year should be granted to any one person, — that the whole amount of the pensions granted in any one year should not exceed six hundred pounds, ■ — until the whole Pension I jst should be reduced to ;£'90,ooo. There were also most praiseworthy regulations to secure the Secret Service Money from abuses by limiting its amount and imposing a strict oath on the Secretaries of State who dispensed it. (It is to the difficulties with which Burke struggled in this bill that he refers when he says, " I was loaded with hatred for everything that was withheld, and with obloquy for everything that was given." — Ed.) To Burke's high honor, we must add that he was far from sparing his own office. On the contrary, he brought in a separate bill to regulate the Paymaster's department and prevent enormous balances from accumulating in his hands, as had often happened heretofore, to the great profit of the holder of that place. . . . This measure, dignifying and dignified by the great name of Burke, as it seems to a later age, passed the House of Commons at the time certainly with little or no resistance from his enemies, but with quite as little celebration from his friends. In July it reached the Peers, where Lord Thurlow found great fault with it, and again did his utmost to defeat his colleagues, ■ — happily, however, in vain" (Lord Mahon's "History of England from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles," 3d ed., vol. vii, pp. 163-165). 9 27. The retrenchments which the act effected, though curtailed, amounted to upwards of ;^7 2,000 a year. The arrears upon the Civil List at this time were about ;^300,ooo. 10 14. Astronomers have supposed. The comet referred to was unquestionably that subsequently known as Halley's comet, the first of all the clan of comets to have its periodic return predicted and verified. Dr. Edmund Harvey, moved to a study of cometary orbits by Newton's brilliant discovery of the law of gravitation, had found one of the historic comets returning to visibility at least on five different occasions after an interval of about seventy-five years. More remark- able still, the inequality of this period — it being now less, and now greater than that j ust stated — led Halley to consider the perturbative action of the larger planets, and finally to venture a prediction of the return of the same comet in the latter part of the year 1858. It was of this comet, then known as the great comet of 1680, and whose motions, disturbed by the attraction of Jupiter, had excited absorbing interest, that Halley made the astonishing statement that its perihelion distance had been only 590,000 miles, and that at the time of its crossing the earth's orbit at descending node the comet was only distant a semi- NOTES. 65 diameter of the sun, or 440,000 miles, from the earth's path, and that if the comet had been delayed thirty-one days (or had met the earth in Cancer), it would h^ve been a philosophical question as to what might have happened. The careful and thoroughly scientific statements of Halley regarding the comet of 1680 were, however, taken up by William Whiston, the astronomical successor of Newton, and made the basis of several theories now remarkable only for their absurdity and as emanating from the Cambridge professor of astronomy. Whiston attributed the deluge to a cometary collision, and invented the conception that the erratic worlds known as comets were the residence of the damned. According to this Whiston theory, a comet was the awful prison-house in which the wretched tenants were alter- nately wheeled into the remotest regions of cold and darkness and into the very vicinity of the sun with its overpowering light and de- vouring fire. It is this theory of Whiston that Burke hints at in the closing phrase, and it is more than probable that it was from Whiston that Burke absorbed the statement so curiously quoted. 10 19. From his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war. " Paradise Lost," II, 710. 10 20. With fear of change Perplexes monarchs. " Paradise Lost," I, 59S. 10 26. Jacoblnized. The Jacobin Club was a society of French revolutionists — gentlemen and men of letters — who met in 1789 in the Jacobin Convent in Paris. The club was soon controlled by the more violent and hysterical of the revolutionary leaders, with Robespierre foremost. Similar societies were organized in the principal towns of France. The club was suppressed in November, 1794. 10 28. Cf. Introduction, p. xix. 10 30. " Wild and savage insurrection." During the first week of June, 1780, occurred the Lord George Gordon " No Popery" riots. Lord George gave notice in the House of Commons May 26, 1780, that on the second of June he would present a petition against toleration of Roman Catholics, signed by a hundred thousand men who would accompany him to the House. On Friday zd of June he harangued a mob of forty thousand in St. George's Fields, after which, under the name of the Protestant Association, they marched six abreast over Lon- don Bridge and through the city to Old Palace Yard. Two Catholic chapels were set on fire before the crowd dispersed at night. For W-) NOTES. neaily six days the mob, crying " No popery," plundered and burnt. Sir George Savile's and Lord Mansfield's houses were destroyed, and Lord Sandwich was with difficulty rescued from the hands of the popu- lace. Newgate Prison was burnt to the ground and the prisoners released. Two attacks were made upon the Bank of England, but the soldiers repulsed the mob. The loss of property was estimated at ;^i8o,ooo. Two hundred and ten of the rioters were killed, and two hundred and forty-eight wounded. Lord George Gordon was com- mitted to the Tower and tried for high treason, but acquitted, as there was sufficient evidence that he was, as Burke pronounces him here, a madman. His pertinacious opposition to both parties in the House gave rise to the saying that there were three parties in Parliament, — the Ministry, the Opposition, and Lord George Gordon. 11 10. Death dance. During the Reign of Terror (1793-94) a Pied- montese song and dance called the Carmagnole became popular. It was "the death dance of democratic revolution." The bombastic style cultivated by the pamphleteers of the Revolution was also called Car- magnole. And the soldiers in the Revolutionary Army came to be dubbed in the same manner. 11 18. National Convention. See H. Morse Stephens, " History of the French Revolution," vol. ii, pp. 151 and 517. 11 26. Frederick North, second Earl of Guildford, better knovvn as Lord North, was born April 13, 1732, educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, and elected to Parliament for Banbury when twenty-two years of age. On the fall of the first Rockingham ministry he was made paymaster-general by the Duke of Grafton. His " wit and pleas- antry " and his " delightful temper " made him popular with the House and with the people. He succeeded the Duke of Grafton in the pre- miership in March, 1770, and continued in office for twelve years. " The English nation," says Leslie Stephen, " which had a Burke and a Chatham amongst its statesmen, had to be governed by a North, in humble submission to the gross stupidity of a. George III." The king, who had acquired control over the great Whig families, needed a minister who would unquestionably do his will. And such an one he found in Lord North. After the surrender at Yorktown Lord North resigned, but in April, 1783, formed a coalition with Fox and the Duke of Portland. Fox's India Bill, which was really drawn by Burke, was the cause of the overthrow of the coalition, and Lord North withdrew from public life. He died August 5, 1792. See " The Correspondence of George III with Lord North." Ed. by W. Bodham Donne, 2 vols., 1867. NOTES. 67 12 4. Ipse diem. "jEneid,"iii, 201,202 : "Palinurus himself declared that he could not distinguish night from day in the heavens, and that he did not remember the course in the midst of the sea." 13 21. To forward those abilities: a reference to Charles James Fox. 13 22. Undertaker : a projector or promoter. The word, like " cas- ket," has unhappily taken on a peculiar and sombre meaning. Sir Wil- liam Siemens (1823-83), a native of Hanover and ignorant of English, visited an " undertaker " under the idea that he was the proper person to take up and dispose of his invention. 13 25. In that period of difficulty. After a long digression upon his habit and principle of deriving all aid from others Burke resumed his immediate subject with — " In that period of difficulty and danger then" etc. The word " then " seemed to Dr. Laurence too feeble a reference and conviction. " I have put it," he writes, " more pointedly, and to make it more so have introduced a word ' ever ' into the preceding sentence." Notice the effect of this slight change in recovering the thread of discourse. 16 10-19. This Ciceronian period is a good example of the style that Burke admired and strove to attain. Sir Philip Francis, writing to Lord Holland, says that Cicero was " the model on which he [Burke} labored to form his own character, in eloquence, in policy, in ethics and philosophy." See Dilke, " Papers of a Critic," p. 311. Compare this sentence of Burke's with the following from Cicero's oration upon Archias : " Nam ceterae neque temporum sunt neque aetatum omnium neque locorum : haec studia adulescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium ac solatium praebent, delectant domi, non impediunt foris, pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusti- cantur." 16 22. All monstrous, all prodigious things. " Paradise Lost," bk. ii, 625. Cuckoo-like. The cuckoo lays its eggs in other birds' nests. For you know nuncle The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long That its had it head bit off by it young. " King Lear," I, iv, 235. 16 24. These obscene harpies. " jEneid," vi, 289. 16 note. Tristius haud illis. "^Eneid," iii, 214-218. So foul a plague for human crime Ne'er issued from the Stygian slime, — 68 NOTES. A maid above, a bird below, Noisome and foul the belly's flow, The hands are taloned. Famine bleak Sits ever ghastly on the cheek. Conington's tfanslation. 17 4. " Hamlet," III, iv, 48-51. Heaven's face doth glow. Yea, this solidity and compound mass, \A'ith tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act. 18 7. I heaved the lead. Notice the figure. Much of Burke's nautical knowledge came from his acquaintance with Admiral Keppel. 19 16. Four and a half per cents. The Leeward Islands, from ■whence the four and one-half per cent fund proceeded, had been first granted to an Earl of Marlborough and they had afterwards become the property of