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Title: The Works of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke, Vol. 04 (of 12)

Author: Edmund Burke

Release date: April 24, 2005 [eBook #15700]
                Most recently updated: December 14, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Paul Murray, Susan Skinner and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team from images generously made
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDMUND BURKE, VOL. 04 (OF 12) ***




Produced by Paul Murray, Susan Skinner and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team from images generously made
available by the Bibliothèque nationale de France
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THE WORKS

OF

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

EDMUND BURKE


IN TWELVE VOLUMES

VOLUME THE FOURTH


[Illustration: Burke Coat of Arms.]


LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
MDCCCLXXXVII




CONTENTS OF VOL IV.


LETTER TO A MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY, IN ANSWER TO SOME
OBJECTIONS TO HIS BOOK ON FRENCH AFFAIRS                               1

APPEAL FROM THE NEW TO THE OLD WHIGS                                  57

LETTER TO A PEER OF IRELAND ON THE PENAL LAWS AGAINST IRISH
CATHOLICS                                                            217

LETTER TO SIR HERCULES LANGRISHE, ON THE SUBJECT OF THE ROMAN
CATHOLICS OF IRELAND                                                 241

HINTS FOR A MEMORIAL TO BE DELIVERED TO MONSIEUR DE M.M.             307

THOUGHTS ON FRENCH AFFAIRS                                           313

HEADS FOR CONSIDERATION ON THE PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS              379

REMARKS ON THE POLICY OF THE ALLIES WITH RESPECT TO FRANCE: WITH
AN APPENDIX                                                          403




A

LETTER

TO

A MEMBER OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY,

IN

ANSWER TO SOME OBJECTIONS TO HIS BOOK ON FRENCH AFFAIRS.

1791.


Sir,--I had the honor to receive your letter of the 17th of November
last, in which, with some exceptions, you are pleased to consider
favorably the letter I have written on the affairs of France. I shall
ever accept any mark of approbation attended with instruction with more
pleasure than general and unqualified praises. The latter can serve only
to flatter our vanity; the former, whilst it encourages us to proceed,
may help to improve us in our progress.

Some of the errors you point out to me in my printed letter are really
such. One only I find to be material. It is corrected in the edition
which I take the liberty of sending to you. As to the cavils which may
be made on some part of my remarks with regard to the _gradations_ in
your new Constitution, you observe justly that they do not affect the
substance of my objections. Whether there be a round more or less in the
ladder of representation by which your workmen ascend from their
parochial tyranny to their federal anarchy, when the whole scale is
false, appears to me of little or no importance.

I published my thoughts on that Constitution, that my countrymen might
be enabled to estimate the wisdom of the plans which were held out to
their imitation. I conceived that the true character of those plans
would be best collected from the committee appointed to prepare them. I
thought that the scheme of their building would be better comprehended
in the design of the architects than in the execution of the masons. It
was not worth my reader's while to occupy himself with the alterations
by which bungling practice corrects absurd theory. Such an investigation
would be endless: because every day's past experience of
impracticability has driven, and every day's future experience will
drive, those men to new devices as exceptionable as the old, and which
are no otherwise worthy of observation than as they give a daily proof
of the delusion of their promises and the falsehood of their
professions. Had I followed all these changes, my letter would have been
only a gazette of their wanderings, a journal of their march from error
to error, through a dry, dreary desert, unguided by the lights of
Heaven, or by the contrivance which wisdom has invented to supply their
place.

I am unalterably persuaded that the attempt to oppress, degrade,
impoverish, confiscate, and extinguish the original gentlemen and landed
property of a whole nation cannot be justified under any form it may
assume. I am satisfied beyond a doubt, that the project of turning a
great empire into a vestry, or into a collection of vestries, and of
governing it in the spirit of a parochial administration, is senseless
and absurd, in any mode or with any qualifications. I can never be
convinced that the scheme of placing the highest powers of the state in
church-wardens and constables and other such officers, guided by the
prudence of litigious attorneys and Jew brokers, and set in action by
shameless women of the lowest condition, by keepers of hotels, taverns,
and brothels, by pert apprentices, by clerks, shop-boys, hair-dressers,
fiddlers, and dancers on the stage, (who, in such a commonwealth as
yours, will in future overbear, as already they have overborne, the
sober incapacity of dull, uninstructed men, of useful, but laborious
occupations,) can never be put into any shape that must not be both
disgraceful and destructive. The whole of this project, even if it were
what it pretends to be, and was not in reality the dominion, through
that disgraceful medium, of half a dozen, or perhaps fewer, intriguing
politicians, is so mean, so low-minded, so stupid a contrivance, in
point of wisdom, as well as so perfectly detestable for its wickedness,
that I must always consider the correctives which might make it in any
degree practicable to be so many new objections to it.

In that wretched state of things, some are afraid that the authors of
your miseries may be led to precipitate their further designs by the
hints they may receive from the very arguments used to expose the
absurdity of their system, to mark the incongruity of its parts, and its
inconsistency with their own principles,--and that your masters may be
led to render their schemes more consistent by rendering them more
mischievous. Excuse the liberty which your indulgence authorizes me to
take, when I observe to you that such apprehensions as these would
prevent all exertion of our faculties in this great cause of mankind.

A rash recourse to _force_ is not to be justified in a state of real
weakness. Such attempts bring on disgrace, and in their failure
discountenance and discourage more rational endeavors. But _reason_ is
to be hazarded, though it may be perverted by craft and sophistry; for
reason can suffer no loss nor shame, nor can it impede any useful plan
of future policy. In the unavoidable uncertainty as to the effect,
which attends on every measure of human prudence, nothing seems a surer
antidote to the poison of fraud than its detection. It is true, the
fraud may be swallowed after this discovery, and perhaps even swallowed
the more greedily for being a detected fraud. Men sometimes make a point
of honor not to be disabused; and they had rather fall into an hundred
errors than confess one. But, after all, when neither our principles nor
our dispositions, nor, perhaps, our talents, enable us to encounter
delusion with delusion, we must use our best reason to those that ought
to be reasonable creatures, and to take our chance for the event. We
cannot act on these anomalies in the minds of men. I do not conceive
that the persons who have contrived these things can be made much the
better or the worse for anything which can be said to them. _They_ are
reason-proof. Here and there, some men, who were at first carried away
by wild, good intentions, may be led, when their first fervors are
abated, to join in a sober survey of the schemes into which they had
been deluded. To those only (and I am sorry to say they are not likely
to make a large description) we apply with any hope. I may speak it upon
an assurance almost approaching to absolute knowledge, that nothing has
been done that has not been contrived from the beginning, even before
the States had assembled. _Nulla nova mihi res inopinave surgit._ They
are the same men and the same designs that they were from the first,
though varied in their appearance. It was the very same animal that at
first crawled about in the shape of a caterpillar that you now see rise
into the air and expand his wings to the sun.

Proceeding, therefore, as we are obliged to proceed,--that is, upon an
hypothesis that we address rational men,--can false political principles
be more effectually exposed than by demonstrating that they lead to
consequences directly inconsistent with and subversive of the
arrangements grounded upon them? If this kind of demonstration is not
permitted, the process of reasoning called _deductio ad absurdum_, which
even the severity of geometry does not reject, could not be employed at
all in legislative discussions. One of our strongest weapons against
folly acting with authority would be lost.

You know, Sir, that even the virtuous efforts of your patriots to
prevent the ruin of your country have had this very turn given to them.
It has been said here, and in France too, that the reigning usurpers
would not have carried their tyranny to such destructive lengths, if
they had not been stimulated and provoked to it by the acrimony of your
opposition. There is a dilemma to which every opposition to successful
iniquity must, in the nature of things, be liable. If you lie still, you
are considered as an accomplice in the measures in which you silently
acquiesce. If you resist, you are accused of provoking irritable power
to new excesses. The conduct of a losing party never appears right: at
least, it never can possess the only infallible criterion of wisdom to
vulgar judgments,--success.

The indulgence of a sort of undefined hope, an obscure confidence, that
some lurking remains of virtue, some degree of shame, might exist in the
breasts of the oppressors of France, has been among the causes which
have helped to bring on the common ruin of king and people. There is no
safety for honest men, but by believing all possible evil of evil men,
and by acting with promptitude, decision, and steadiness on that belief.
I well remember, at every epocha of this wonderful history, in every
scene of this tragic business, that, when your sophistic usurpers were
laying down mischievous principles, and even applying them in direct
resolutions, it was the fashion to say that they never intended to
execute those declarations in their rigor. This made men careless in
their opposition, and remiss in early precaution. By holding out this
fallacious hope, the impostors deluded sometimes one description of men,
and sometimes another, so that no means of resistance were provided
against them, when they came to execute in cruelty what they had planned
in fraud.

There are cases in which a man would be ashamed not to have been imposed
on. There is a confidence necessary to human intercourse, and without
which men are often more injured by their own suspicions than they would
be by the perfidy of others. But when men whom we _know_ to be wicked
impose upon us, we are something worse than dupes. When we know them,
their fair pretences become new motives for distrust. There is one case,
indeed, in which it would be madness not to give the fullest credit to
the most deceitful of men,--that is, when they make declarations of
hostility against us.

I find that some persons entertain other hopes, which I confess appear
more specious than those by which at first so many were deluded and
disarmed. They flatter themselves that the extreme misery brought upon
the people by their folly will at last open the eyes of the multitude,
if not of their leaders. Much the contrary, I fear. As to the leaders in
this system of imposture,--you know that cheats and deceivers never can
repent. The fraudulent have no resource but in fraud. They have no other
goods in their magazine. They have no virtue or wisdom in their minds,
to which, in a disappointment concerning the profitable effects of fraud
and cunning, they can retreat. The wearing out of an old serves only to
put them upon the invention of a new delusion. Unluckily, too, the
credulity of dupes is as inexhaustible as the invention of knaves. They
never give people possession; but they always keep them in hope. Your
state doctors do not so much as pretend that any good whatsoever has
hitherto been derived from their operations, or that the public has
prospered in any one instance under their management. The nation is
sick, very sick, by their medicines. But the charlatan tells them that
what is past cannot be helped;--they have taken the draught, and they
must wait its operation with patience;--that the first effects, indeed,
are unpleasant, but that the very sickness is a proof that the dose is
of no sluggish operation;--that sickness is inevitable in all
constitutional revolutions;--that the body must pass through pain to
ease;--that the prescriber is not an empiric who proceeds by vulgar
experience, but one who grounds his practice[1] on the sure rules of
art, which cannot possibly fail. You have read, Sir, the last manifesto,
or mountebank's bill, of the National Assembly. You see their
presumption in their promises is not lessened by all their failures in
the performance. Compare this last address of the Assembly and the
present state of your affairs with the early engagements of that body,
engagements which, not content with declaring, they solemnly deposed
upon oath,--swearing lustily, that, if they were supported, they would
make their country glorious and happy; and then judge whether those who
can write such things, or those who can bear to read them, are of
_themselves_ to be brought to any reasonable course of thought or
action.

As to the people at large, when once these miserable sheep have broken
the fold, and have got themselves loose, not from the restraint, but
from the protection, of all the principles of natural authority and
legitimate subordination, they become the natural prey of impostors.
When they have once tasted of the flattery of knaves, they can no longer
endure reason, which appears to them only in the form of censure and
reproach. Great distress has never hitherto taught, and whilst the world
lasts it never will teach, wise lessons to any part of mankind. Men are
as much blinded by the extremes of misery as by the extremes of
prosperity. Desperate situations produce desperate councils and
desperate measures. The people of France, almost generally, have been
taught to look for other resources than those which can be derived from
order, frugality, and industry. They are generally armed; and they are
made to expect much from the use of arms. _Nihil non arrogant armis._
Besides this, the retrograde order of society has something flattering
to the dispositions of mankind. The life of adventurers, gamesters,
gypsies, beggars, and robbers is not unpleasant. It requires restraint
to keep men from falling into that habit. The shifting tides of fear
and hope, the flight and pursuit, the peril and escape, the alternate
famine and feast of the savage and the thief, after a time; render all
course of slow, steady, progressive, unvaried occupation, and the
prospect only of a limited mediocrity at the end of long labor, to the
last degree tame, languid, and insipid. Those who have been once
intoxicated with power, and have derived any kind of emolument from it,
even though but for one year, never can willingly abandon it. They may
be distressed in the midst of all their power; but they will never look
to anything but power for their relief. When did distress ever oblige a
prince to abdicate his authority? And what effect will it have upon
those who are made to believe themselves a people of princes?

The more active and stirring part of the lower orders having got
government and the distribution of plunder into their hands, they will
use its resources in each municipality to form a body of adherents.
These rulers and their adherents will be strong enough to overpower the
discontents of those who have not been able to assert their share of the
spoil. The unfortunate adventurers in the cheating lottery of plunder
will probably be the least sagacious or the most inactive and irresolute
of the gang. If, on disappointment, they should dare to stir, they will
soon be suppressed as rebels and mutineers by their brother rebels.
Scantily fed for a while with the offal of plunder, they will drop off
by degrees; they will be driven out of sight and out of thought; and
they will be left to perish obscurely, like rats, in holes and corners.

From the forced repentance of invalid mutineers and disbanded thieves
you can hope for no resource. Government itself, which ought to
constrain the more bold and dexterous of these robbers, is their
accomplice. Its arms, its treasures, its all are in their hands.
Judicature, which above all things should awe them, is their creature
and their instrument. Nothing seems to me to render your internal
situation more desperate than this one circumstance of the state of your
judicature. Many days are not passed since we have seen a set of men
brought forth by your rulers for a most critical function. Your rulers
brought forth a set of men, steaming from the sweat and drudgery, and
all black with the smoke and soot, of the forge of confiscation and
robbery,--_ardentis massæ fuligine lippos_,--a set of men brought forth
from the trade of hammering arms of proof, offensive and defensive, in
aid of the enterprises, and for the subsequent protection, of
housebreakers, murderers, traitors, and malefactors,--men, who had their
minds seasoned with theories perfectly conformable to their practice,
and who had always laughed at possession and prescription, and defied
all the fundamental maxims of jurisprudence. To the horror and
stupefaction of all the honest part of this nation, and indeed of all
nations who are spectators, we have seen, on the credit of those very
practices and principles, and to carry them further into effect, these
very men placed on the sacred seat of justice in the capital city of
your late kingdom. We see that in future you are to be destroyed with
more form and regularity. This is not peace: it is only the introduction
of a sort of discipline in their hostility. Their tyranny is complete in
their justice; and their _lanterne_ is not half so dreadful as their
court.

One would think, that, out of common decency, they would have given you
men who had not been in the habit of trampling upon law and justice in
the Assembly, neutral men, or men apparently neutral, for judges, who
are to dispose of your lives and fortunes.

Cromwell, when he attempted to legalize his power, and to settle his
conquered country in a state of order, did not look for dispensers of
justice in the instruments of his usurpation. Quite the contrary. He
sought out, with great solicitude and selection, and even from the party
most opposite to his designs, men of weight and decorum of
character,--men unstained with the violence of the times, and with hands
not fouled with confiscation and sacrilege: for he chose an Hale for his
chief justice, though he absolutely refused to take his civic oaths, or
to make any acknowledgment whatsoever of the legality of his government.
Cromwell told this great lawyer, that, since he did not approve his
title, all he required of him was to administer, in a manner agreeable
to his pure sentiments and unspotted character, that justice without
which human society cannot subsist,--that it was not his particular
government, but civil order itself, which, as a judge, he wished him to
support. Cromwell knew how to separate the institutions expedient to his
usurpation from the administration of the public justice of his country.
For Cromwell was a man in whom ambition had not wholly suppressed, but
only suspended, the sentiments of religion, and the love (as far as it
could consist with his designs) of fair and honorable reputation.
Accordingly, we are indebted to this act of his for the preservation of
our laws, which some senseless assertors of the rights of men were then
on the point of entirely erasing, as relics of feudality and barbarism.
Besides, he gave, in the appointment of that man, to that age, and to
all posterity, the most brilliant example of sincere and fervent piety,
exact justice, and profound jurisprudence.[2] But these are not the
things in which your philosophic usurpers choose to follow Cromwell.

One would think, that, after an honest and necessary revolution, (if
they had a mind that theirs should pass for such,) your masters would
have imitated the virtuous policy of those who have been at the head of
revolutions of that glorious character. Burnet tells us, that nothing
tended to reconcile the English nation to the government of King William
so much as the care he took to fill the vacant bishoprics with men who
had attracted the public esteem by their learning, eloquence, and piety,
and above all, by their known moderation in the state. With you, in your
purifying revolution, whom have you chosen to regulate the Church? M.
Mirabeau is a fine speaker, and a fine writer, and a fine--a very fine
man; but, really, nothing gave more surprise to everybody here than to
find him the supreme head of your ecclesiastical affairs. The rest is of
course. Your Assembly addresses a manifesto to France, in which they
tell the people, with an insulting irony, that they have brought the
Church to its primitive condition. In one respect their declaration is
undoubtedly true: for they have brought it to a state of poverty and
persecution. What can be hoped for after this? Have not men, (if they
deserve the name,) under this new hope and head of the Church, been made
bishops for no other merit than having acted as instruments of atheists?
for no other merit than having thrown the children's bread to dogs? and,
in order to gorge the whole gang of usurers, peddlers, and itinerant
Jew discounters at the corners of streets, starved the poor of their
Christian flocks, and their own brother pastors? Have not such men been
made bishops to administer in temples in which (if the patriotic
donations have not already stripped them of their vessels) the
church-wardens ought to take security for the altar plate, and not so
much as to trust the chalice in their sacrilegious hands, so long as
Jews have assignats on ecclesiastic plunder, to exchange for the silver
stolen from churches?

I am told that the very sons of such Jew jobbers have been made bishops:
persons not to be suspected of any sort of _Christian_ superstition, fit
colleagues to the holy prelate of Autun, and bred at the feet of that
Gamaliel. We know who it was that drove the money-changers out of the
temple. We see, too, who it is that brings them in again. We have in
London very respectable persons of the Jewish nation, whom we will keep;
but we have of the same tribe others of a very different
description,--housebreakers, and receivers of stolen goods, and forgers
of paper currency, more than we can conveniently hang. These we can
spare to France, to fill the new episcopal thrones: men well versed in
swearing; and who will scruple no oath which the fertile genius of any
of your reformers can devise.

In matters so ridiculous it is hard to be grave. On a view of their
consequences, it is almost inhuman to treat them lightly. To what a
state of savage, stupid, servile insensibility must your people be
reduced, who can endure such proceedings in their Church, their state,
and their judicature, even for a moment! But the deluded people of
France are like other madmen, who, to a miracle, bear hunger, and
thirst, and cold, and confinement, and the chains and lash of their
keeper, whilst all the while they support themselves by the imagination
that they are generals of armies, prophets, kings, and emperors. As to a
change of mind in those men, who consider infamy as honor, degradation
as preferment, bondage to low tyrants as liberty, and the practical
scorn and contumely of their upstart masters as marks of respect and
homage, I look upon it as absolutely impracticable. These madmen, to be
cured, must first, like other madmen, be subdued. The sound part of the
community, which I believe to be large, but by no means the largest
part, has been taken by surprise, and is disjointed, terrified, and
disarmed. That sound part of the community must first be put into a
better condition, before it can do anything in the way of deliberation
or persuasion. This must be an act of power, as well as of wisdom: of
power in the hands of firm, determined patriots, who can distinguish the
misled from traitors, who will regulate the state (if such should be
their fortune) with a discriminating, manly, and provident mercy; men
who are purged of the surfeit and indigestion of systems, if ever they
have been admitted into the habit of their minds; men who will lay the
foundation of a real reform in effacing every vestige of that philosophy
which pretends to have made discoveries in the _Terra Australia_ of
morality; men who will fix the state upon these bases of morals and
politics, which are our old and immemorial, and, I hope, will be our
eternal possession.

This power, to such men, must come from _without_. It may be given to
you in pity: for surely no nation ever called so pathetically on the
compassion of all its neighbors. It may be given by those neighbors on
motives of safety to themselves. Never shall I think any country in
Europe to be secure, whilst there is established in the very centre of
it a state (if so it may be called) founded on principles of anarchy,
and which is in reality a college of armed fanatics, for the propagation
of the principles of assassination, robbery, rebellion, fraud, faction,
oppression, and impiety. Mahomet, hid, as for a time he was, in the
bottom of the sands of Arabia, had his spirit and character been
discovered, would have been an object of precaution to provident minds.
What if he had erected his fanatic standard for the destruction of the
Christian religion _in luce Asiæ_, in the midst of the then noonday
splendor of the then civilized world? The princes of Europe, in the
beginning of this century, did well not to suffer the monarchy of France
to swallow up the others. They ought not now, in my opinion, to suffer
all the monarchies and commonwealths to be swallowed up in the gulf of
this polluted anarchy. They may be tolerably safe at present, because
the comparative power of France for the present is little. But times and
occasions make dangers. Intestine troubles may arise in other countries.
There is a power always on the watch, qualified and disposed to profit
of every conjuncture, to establish its own principles and modes of
mischief, wherever it can hope for success. What mercy would these
usurpers have on other sovereigns, and on other nations, when they treat
their own king with such unparalleled indignities, and so cruelly
oppress their own countrymen?

The king of Prussia, in concurrence with us, nobly interfered to save
Holland from confusion. The same power, joined with the rescued Holland
and with Great Britain, has put the Emperor in the possession of the
Netherlands, and secured, under that prince, from all arbitrary
innovation, the ancient, hereditary Constitution of those provinces. The
chamber of Wetzlar has restored the Bishop of Liege, unjustly
dispossessed by the rebellion of his subjects. The king of Prussia was
bound by no treaty nor alliance of blood, nor had any particular reasons
for thinking the Emperor's government would be more mischievous or more
oppressive to human nature than that of the Turk; yet, on mere motives
of policy, that prince has interposed, with the threat of all his force,
to snatch even the Turk from the pounces of the Imperial eagle. If this
is done in favor of a barbarous nation, with a barbarous neglect of
police, fatal to the human race,--in favor of a nation by principle in
eternal enmity with the Christian name, a nation which will not so much
as give the salutation of peace (_Salam_) to any of us, nor make any
pact with any Christian nation beyond a truce,--if this be done in favor
of the Turk, shall it be thought either impolitic or unjust or
uncharitable to employ the same power to rescue from captivity a
virtuous monarch, (by the courtesy of Europe considered as Most
Christian,) who, after an intermission of one hundred and seventy-five
years, had called together the States of his kingdom to reform abuses,
to establish a free government, and to strengthen his throne,--a monarch
who, at the very outset, without force, even without solicitation, had
given to his people such a Magna Charta of privileges as never was given
by any king to any subjects? Is it to be tamely borne by kings who love
their subjects, or by subjects who love their kings, that this monarch,
in the midst of these gracious acts, was insolently and cruelly torn
from his palace by a gang of traitors and assassins, and kept in close
prison to this very hour, whilst his royal name and sacred character
were used for the total ruin of those whom the laws had appointed him to
protect?

The only offence of this unhappy monarch towards his people was his
attempt, under a monarchy, to give them a free Constitution. For this,
by an example hitherto unheard of in the world, he has been deposed. It
might well disgrace sovereigns to take part with a deposed tyrant. It
would suppose in them a vicious sympathy. But not to make a common cause
with a just prince, dethroned by traitors and rebels, who proscribe,
plunder, confiscate, and in every way cruelly oppress their
fellow-citizens, in my opinion is to forget what is due to the honor and
to the rights of all virtuous and legal government.

I think the king of France to be as much an object both of policy and
compassion as the Grand Seignior or his states. I do not conceive that
the total annihilation of France (if that could be effected) is a
desirable thing to Europe, or even to this its rival nation. Provident
patriots did not think it good for Rome that even Carthage should be
quite destroyed; and he was a wise Greek, wise for the general Grecian
interests, as well as a brave Lacedæmonian enemy and generous conqueror,
who did not wish, by the destruction of Athens, to pluck out the other
eye of Greece.

However, Sir, what I have here said of the interference of foreign
princes is only the opinion of a private individual, who is neither the
representative of any state nor the organ of any party, but who thinks
himself bound to express his own sentiments with freedom and energy in a
crisis of such importance to the whole human race.

I am not apprehensive, that, in speaking freely on the subject of the
king and queen of France, I shall accelerate (as you fear) the execution
of traitorous designs against them. You are of opinion, Sir, that the
usurpers may, and that they will, gladly lay hold of any pretext to
throw off the very name of a king: assuredly, I do not wish ill to your
king; but better for him not to live (he does not reign) than to live
the passive instrument of tyranny and usurpation.

I certainly meant to show, to the best of my power, that the existence
of such an executive officer in such a system of republic as theirs is
absurd in the highest degree. But in demonstrating this, to _them_, at
least, I can have made no discovery. They only held out the royal name
to catch those Frenchmen to whom the name of king is still venerable.
They calculate the duration of that sentiment; and when they find it
nearly expiring, they will not trouble themselves with excuses for
extinguishing the name, as they have the thing. They used it as a sort
of navel-string to nourish their unnatural offspring from the bowels of
royalty itself. Now that the monster can purvey for its own subsistence,
it will only carry the mark about it, as a token of its having torn the
womb it came from. Tyrants seldom want pretexts. Fraud is the ready
minister of injustice; and whilst the currency of false pretence and
sophistic reasoning was expedient to their designs, they were under no
necessity of drawing upon me to furnish them with that coin. But
pretexts and sophisms have had their day, and have done their work. The
usurpation no longer seeks plausibility: it trusts to power.

Nothing that I can say, or that you can say, will hasten them, by a
single hour, in the execution of a design which they have long since
entertained. In spite of their solemn declarations, their soothing
addresses, and the multiplied oaths which they have taken and forced
others to take, they will assassinate the king when his name will no
longer be necessary to their designs,--but not a moment sooner. They
will probably first assassinate the queen, whenever the renewed menace
of such an assassination loses its effect upon the anxious mind of an
affectionate husband. At present, the advantage which they derive from
the daily threats against her life is her only security for preserving
it. They keep their sovereign alive for the purpose of exhibiting him,
like some wild beast at a fair,--as if they had a Bajazet in a cage.
They choose to make monarchy contemptible by exposing it to derision in
the person of the most benevolent of their kings.

In my opinion their insolence appears more odious even than their
crimes. The horrors of the fifth and sixth of October were less
detestable than the festival of the fourteenth of July. There are
situations (God forbid I should think that of the 5th and 6th of October
one of them!) in which the best men may be confounded with the worst,
and in the darkness and confusion, in the press and medley of such
extremities, it may not be so easy to discriminate the one from the
other. Tho necessities created even by ill designs have their excuse.
They may be forgotten by others, when the guilty themselves do not
choose to cherish their recollection, and, by ruminating their
offences, nourish themselves, through the example of their past, to the
perpetration of future crimes. It is in the relaxation of security, it
is in the expansion of prosperity, it is in the hour of dilatation of
the heart, and of its softening into festivity and pleasure, that the
real character of men is discerned. If there is any good in them, it
appears then or never. Even wolves and tigers, when gorged with their
prey, are safe and gentle. It is at such times that noble minds give all
the reins to their good nature. They indulge their genius even to
intemperance, in kindness to the afflicted, in generosity to the
conquered,--forbearing insults, forgiving injuries, overpaying benefits.
Full of dignity themselves, they respect dignity in all, but they feel
it sacred in the unhappy. But it is then, and basking in the sunshine of
unmerited fortune, that low, sordid, ungenerous, and reptile souls swell
with their hoarded poisons; it is then that they display their odious
splendor, and shine out in the full lustre of their native villany and
baseness. It is in that season that no man of sense or honor can be
mistaken for one of them. It was in such a season, for them of political
ease and security, though their people were but just emerged from actual
famine, and were ready to be plunged into a gulf of penury and beggary,
that your philosophic lords chose, with an ostentatious pomp and luxury,
to feast an incredible number of idle and thoughtless people, collected
with art and pains from all quarters of the world. They constructed a
vast amphitheatre in which they raised a species of pillory.[3] On this
pillory they set their lawful king and queen, with an insulting figure
over their heads. There they exposed these objects of pity and respect
to all good minds to the derision of an unthinking and unprincipled
multitude, degenerated even from the versatile tenderness which marks
the irregular and capricious feelings of the populace. That their cruel
insult might have nothing wanting to complete it, they chose the
anniversary of that day in which they exposed the life of their prince
to the most imminent dangers and the vilest indignities, just following
the instant when the assassins, whom they had hired without owning,
first openly took up arms against their king, corrupted his guards,
surprised his castle, butchered some of the poor invalids of his
garrison, murdered his governor, and, like wild beasts, tore to pieces
the chief magistrate of his capital city, on account of his fidelity to
his service.

Till the justice of the world is awakened, such as these will go on,
without admonition, and without provocation, to every extremity. Those
who have made the exhibition of the fourteenth of July are capable of
every evil. They do not commit crimes for their designs; but they form
designs that they may commit crimes. It is not their necessity, but
their nature, that impels them. They are modern philosophers, which when
you say of them, you express everything that is ignoble, savage, and
hard-hearted.

Besides the sure tokens which are given by the spirit of their
particular arrangements, there are some characteristic lineaments in the
general policy of your tumultuous despotism, which, in my opinion,
indicate, beyond a doubt, that no revolution whatsoever _in their
disposition_ is to be expected: I mean their scheme of educating the
rising generation, the principles which they intend to instil and the
sympathies which they wish to form in the mind at the season in which it
is the most susceptible. Instead of forming their young minds to that
docility, to that modesty, which are the grace and charm of youth, to an
admiration of famous examples, and to an averseness to anything which
approaches to pride, petulance, and self-conceit, (distempers to which
that time of life is of itself sufficiently liable,) they artificially
foment these evil dispositions, and even form them into springs of
action. Nothing ought to be more weighed than the nature of books
recommended by public authority. So recommended, they soon form the
character of the age. Uncertain indeed is the efficacy, limited indeed
is the extent, of a virtuous institution. But if education takes in
_vice_ as any part of its system, there is no doubt but that it will
operate with abundant energy, and to an extent indefinite. The
magistrate, who in favor of freedom thinks himself obliged to suffer all
sorts of publications, is under a stricter duty than any other well to
consider what sort of writers he shall authorize, and shall recommend by
the strongest of all sanctions, that is, by public honors and rewards.
He ought to be cautious how he recommends authors of mixed or ambiguous
morality. He ought to be fearful of putting into the hands of youth
writers indulgent to the peculiarities of their own complexion, lest
they should teach the humors of the professor, rather than the
principles of the science. He ought, above all, to be cautious in
recommending any writer who has carried marks of a deranged
understanding: for where there is no sound reason, there can be no real
virtue; and madness is ever vicious and malignant.

The Assembly proceeds on maxims the very reverse of these. The Assembly
recommends to its youth a study of the bold experimenters in morality.
Everybody knows that there is a great dispute amongst their leaders,
which of them is the best resemblance of Rousseau. In truth, they all
resemble him. His blood they transfuse into their minds and into their
manners. Him they study; him they meditate; him they turn over in all
the time they can spare from the laborious mischief of the day or the
debauches of the night. Rousseau is their canon of holy writ; in his
life he is their canon of Polycletus; he is their standard figure of
perfection. To this man and this writer, as a pattern to authors and to
Frenchmen, the foundries of Paris are now running for statues, with the
kettles of their poor and the bells of their churches. If an author had
written like a great genius on geometry, though his practical and
speculative morals were vicious in the extreme, it might appear that in
voting the statue they honored only the geometrician. But Rousseau is a
moralist or he is nothing. It is impossible, therefore, putting the
circumstances together, to mistake their design in choosing the author
with whom they have begun to recommend a course of studies.

Their great problem is, to find a substitute for all the principles
which hitherto have been employed to regulate the human will and action.
They find dispositions in the mind of such force and quality as may fit
men, far better than the old morality, for the purposes of such a state
as theirs, and may go much further in supporting their power and
destroying their enemies. They have therefore chosen a selfish,
flattering, seductive, ostentatious vice, in the place of plain duty.
True humility, the basis of the Christian system, is the low, but deep
and firm foundation of all real virtue. But this, as very painful in the
practice, and little imposing in the appearance, they have totally
discarded. Their object is to merge all natural and all social sentiment
in inordinate vanity. In a small degree, and conversant in little
things, vanity is of little moment. When full-grown, it is the worst of
vices, and the occasional mimic of them all. It makes the whole man
false. It leaves nothing sincere or trustworthy about him. His best
qualities are poisoned and perverted by it, and operate exactly as the
worst. When your lords had many writers as immoral as the object of
their statue (such as Voltaire and others) they chose Rousseau, because
in him that peculiar vice which they wished to erect into ruling virtue
was by far the most conspicuous.

We have had the great professor and founder of _the philosophy of
vanity_ in England. As I had good opportunities of knowing his
proceedings almost from day to day, he left no doubt on my mind that he
entertained no principle, either to influence his heart or to guide his
understanding, but _vanity_. With this vice he was possessed to a degree
little short of madness. It is from the same deranged, eccentric vanity,
that this, the insane Socrates of the National Assembly, was impelled to
publish a mad confession of his mad faults, and to attempt a new sort of
glory from bringing hardily to light the obscure and vulgar vices which
we know may sometimes be blended with eminent talents. He has not
observed on the nature of vanity who does not know that it is
omnivorous,--that it has no choice in its food,--that it is fond to
talk even of its own faults and vices, as what will excite surprise and
draw attention, and what will pass at worst for openness and candor.

It was this abuse and perversion, which vanity makes even of hypocrisy,
which has driven Rousseau to record a life not so much as checkered or
spotted here and there with virtues, or even distinguished by a single
good action. It is such a life he chooses to offer to the attention of
mankind. It is such a life that, with a wild defiance, he flings in the
face of his Creator, whom he acknowledges only to brave. Your Assembly,
knowing how much more powerful example is found than precept, has chosen
this man (by his own account without a single virtue) for a model. To
him they erect their first statue. From him they commence their series
of honors and distinctions.

It is that new-invented virtue which your masters canonize that led
their moral hero constantly to exhaust the stores of his powerful
rhetoric in the expression of universal benevolence, whilst his heart
was incapable of harboring one spark of common parental affection.
Benevolence to the whole species, and want of feeling for every
individual with whom the professors come in contact, form the character
of the new philosophy. Setting up for an unsocial independence, this
their hero of vanity refuses the just price of common labor, as well as
the tribute which opulence owes to genius, and which, when paid, honors
the giver and the receiver; and then he pleads his beggary as an excuse
for his crimes. He melts with tenderness for those only who touch him by
the remotest relation, and then, without one natural pang, casts away,
as a sort of offal and excrement, the spawn of his disgustful amours,
and sends his children to the hospital of foundlings. The bear loves,
licks, and forms her young: but bears are not philosophers. Vanity,
however, finds its account in reversing the train of our natural
feelings. Thousands admire the sentimental-writer; the affectionate
father is hardly known in his parish.

Under this philosophic instructor in _the ethics of vanity_, they have
attempted in France a regeneration of the moral constitution of man.
Statesmen like your present rulers exist by everything which is
spurious, fictitious, and false,--by everything which takes the man from
his house, and sets him on a stage,--which makes him up an artificial
creature, with painted, theatric sentiments, fit to be seen by the glare
of candle-light, and formed to be contemplated at a due distance. Vanity
is too apt to prevail in all of us, and in all countries. To the
improvement of Frenchmen, it seems not absolutely necessary that it
should be taught upon system. But it is plain that the present rebellion
was its legitimate offspring, and it is piously fed by that rebellion
with a daily dole.

If the system of institution recommended by the Assembly is false and
theatric, it is because their system of government is of the same
character. To that, and to that alone, it is strictly conformable. To
understand either, we must connect the morals with the politics of the
legislators. Your practical philosophers, systematic in everything, have
wisely began at the source. As the relation between parents and children
is the first among the elements of vulgar, natural morality,[4] they
erect statues to a wild, ferocious, low-minded, hard-hearted father, of
fine general feelings,--a lover of his kind, but a hater of his kindred.
Your masters reject the duties of this vulgar relation, as contrary to
liberty, as not founded in the social compact, and not binding according
to the rights of men; because the relation is not, of course, the result
of _free election_,--never so on the side of the children, not always on
the part of the parents.

The next relation which they regenerate by their statues to Rousseau is
that which is next in sanctity to that of a father. They differ from
those old-fashioned thinkers who considered pedagogues as sober and
venerable characters, and allied to the parental. The moralists of the
dark times _præceptorem sancti voluere parentis esse loco_. In this age
of light they teach the people that preceptors ought to be in the place
of gallants. They systematically corrupt a very corruptible race, (for
some time a growing nuisance amongst you,)--a set of pert, petulant
literators, to whom, instead of their proper, but severe, unostentatious
duties, they assign the brilliant part of men of wit and pleasure, of
gay, young, military sparks, and danglers at toilets. They call on the
rising generation in France to take a sympathy in the adventures and
fortunes, and they endeavor to engage their sensibility on the side, of
pedagogues who betray the most awful family trusts and vitiate their
female pupils. They teach the people that the debauchers of virgins,
almost in the arms of their parents, may be safe inmates in their house,
and even fit guardians of the honor of those husbands who succeed
legally to the office which the young literators had preoccupied
without asking leave of law or conscience.

Thus they dispose of all the family relations of parents and children,
husbands and wives. Through this same instructor, by whom they corrupt
the morals, they corrupt the taste. Taste and elegance, though they are
reckoned only among the smaller and secondary morals, yet are of no mean
importance in the regulation of life. A moral taste is not of force to
turn vice into virtue; but it recommends virtue with something like the
blandishments of pleasure, and it infinitely abates the evils of vice.
Rousseau, a writer of great force and vivacity, is totally destitute of
taste in any sense of the word. Your masters, who are his scholars,
conceive that all refinement has an aristocratic character. The last age
had exhausted all its powers in giving a grace and nobleness to our
natural appetites, and in raising them into a higher class and order
than seemed justly to belong to them. Through Rousseau, your masters are
resolved to destroy these aristocratic prejudices. The passion called
love has so general and powerful an influence, it makes so much of the
entertainment, and indeed so much the occupation, of that part of life
which decides the character forever, that the mode and the principles on
which it engages the sympathy and strikes the imagination become of the
utmost importance to the morals and manners of every society. Your
rulers were well aware of this; and in their system of changing your
manners to accommodate them to their politics, they found nothing so
convenient as Rousseau. Through him they teach men to love after the
fashion of philosophers: that is, they teach to men, to Frenchmen, a
love without gallantry,--a love without anything of that fine flower of
youthfulness and gentility which places it, if not among the virtues,
among the ornaments of life. Instead of this passion, naturally allied
to grace and manners, they infuse into their youth an unfashioned,
indelicate, sour, gloomy, ferocious medley of pedantry and lewdness,--of
metaphysical speculations blended with the coarsest sensuality. Such is
the general morality of the passions to be found in their famous
philosopher, in his famous work of philosophic gallantry, the _Nouvelle
Éloise_.

When the fence from the gallantry of preceptors is broken down, and your
families are no longer protected by decent pride and salutary domestic
prejudice, there is but one step to a frightful corruption. The rulers
in the National Assembly are in good hopes that the females of the first
families in France may become an easy prey to dancing-masters, fiddlers,
pattern-drawers, friseurs, and valets-de-chambre, and other active
citizens of that description, who, having the entry into your houses,
and being half domesticated by their situation, may be blended with you
by regular and irregular relations. By a law they have made these people
their equals. By adopting the sentiments of Rousseau they have made them
your rivals. In this manner these great legislators complete their plan
of levelling, and establish their rights of men on a sure foundation.

I am certain that the writings of Rousseau lead directly to this kind of
shameful evil. I have often wondered how he comes to be so much more
admired and followed on the Continent than he is here. Perhaps a secret
charm in the language may have its share in this extraordinary
difference. We certainly perceive, and to a degree we feel, in this
writer, a style glowing, animated, enthusiastic, at the same time that
we find it lax, diffuse, and not in the best taste of composition,--all
the members of the piece being pretty equally labored and expanded,
without any due selection or subordination of parts. He is generally too
much on the stretch, and his manner has little variety. We cannot rest
upon, any of his works, though they contain observations which
occasionally discover a considerable insight into human nature. But his
doctrines, on the whole, are so inapplicable to real life and manners,
that we never dream of drawing from them any rule for laws or conduct,
or for fortifying or illustrating anything by a reference to his
opinions. They have with us the fate of older paradoxes:--

    Cum ventum ad _verum_ est, _sensus moresque_ repugnant,
    Atque ipsa utilitas, justi prope mater et æqui.

Perhaps bold speculations are more acceptable because more new to you
than to us, who have been, long since satiated with them. We continue,
as in the two last ages, to read, more generally than I believe is now
done on the Continent, the authors of sound antiquity. These occupy our
minds; they give us another taste and turn; and will not suffer us to be
more than transiently amused with paradoxical morality. It is not that I
consider this writer as wholly destitute of just notions. Amongst his
irregularities, it must be reckoned that he is sometimes moral, and
moral in a very sublime strain. But the _general spirit and tendency_ of
his works is mischievous,--and the more mischievous for this mixture:
for perfect depravity of sentiment is not reconcilable with eloquence;
and the mind (though corruptible, not complexionally vicious) would
reject and throw off with disgust a lesson of pure and unmixed evil.
These writers make even virtue a pander to vice.

However, I less consider the author than the system of the Assembly in
perverting morality through his means. This I confess makes me nearly
despair of any attempt upon the minds of their followers, through
reason, honor, or conscience. The great object of your tyrants is to
destroy the gentlemen of France; and for that purpose they destroy, to
the best of their power, all the effect of those relations which may
render considerable men powerful or even safe. To destroy that order,
they vitiate the whole community. That no means may exist of
confederating against their tyranny, by the false sympathies of this
_Nouvelle Éloise_ they endeavor to subvert those principles of domestic
trust and fidelity which form the discipline of social life. They
propagate principles by which every servant may think it, if not his
duty, at least his privilege, to betray his master. By these principles,
every considerable father of a family loses the sanctuary of his house.
_Debet sua cuique domus esse perfugium tutissimum_, says the law, which
your legislators have taken so much pains first to decry, then to
repeal. They destroy all the tranquillity and security of domestic life:
turning the asylum of the house into a gloomy prison, where the father
of the family must drag out a miserable existence, endangered in
proportion to the apparent means of his safety,--where he is worse than
solitary in a crowd of domestics, and more apprehensive from his
servants and inmates than from the hired, bloodthirsty mob without
doors who are ready to pull him to the _lanterne_.

It is thus, and for the same end, that they endeavor to destroy that
tribunal of conscience which exists independently of edicts and decrees.
Your despots govern by terror. They know that he who fears God fears
nothing else; and therefore they eradicate from the mind, through their
Voltaire, their Helvétius, and the rest of that infamous gang, that only
sort of fear which generates true courage. Their object is, that their
fellow-citizens may be under the dominion of no awe but that of their
Committee of Research and of their _lanterne_.

Having found the advantage of assassination in the formation of their
tyranny, it is the grand resource in which they trust for the support of
it. Whoever opposes any of their proceedings, or is suspected of a
design to oppose them, is to answer it with his life, or the lives of
his wife and children. This infamous, cruel, and cowardly practice of
assassination they have the impudence to call _merciful_. They boast
that they operated their usurpation rather by terror than by force, and
that a few seasonable murders have prevented the bloodshed of many
battles. There is no doubt they will extend these acts of mercy whenever
they see an occasion. Dreadful, however, will be the consequences of
their attempt to avoid the evils of war by the merciful policy of
murder. If, by effectual punishment of the guilty, they do not wholly
disavow that practice, and the threat of it too, as any part of their
policy, if ever a foreign prince enters into France, he must enter it as
into a country of assassins. The mode of civilized war will not be
practised: nor are the French who act on the present system entitled to
expect it. They whose known policy it is to assassinate every citizen
whom they suspect to be discontented by their tyranny, and to corrupt
the soldiery of every open enemy, must look for no modified hostility.
All war, which is not battle, will be military execution. This will
beget acts of retaliation from you; and every retaliation will beget a
new revenge. The hell-hounds of war, on all sides, will be uncoupled and
unmuzzled. The new school of murder and barbarism set up in Paris,
having destroyed (so far as in it lies) all the other manners and
principles which have hitherto civilized Europe, will destroy also the
mode of civilized war, which, more than anything else, has distinguished
the Christian world. Such is the approaching golden age which the
Virgil[5] of your Assembly has sung to his Pollios!

In such a situation of your political, your civil, and your social
morals and manners, how can you be hurt by the freedom of any
discussion? Caution is for those who have something to lose. What I have
said, to justify myself in not apprehending any ill consequence from a
free discussion of the absurd consequences which flow from the relation
of the lawful king to the usurped Constitution, will apply to my
vindication with regard to the exposure I have made of the state of the
army under the same sophistic usurpation. The present tyrants want no
arguments to prove, what they must daily feel, that no good army can
exist on their principles. They are in no want of a monitor to suggest
to them the policy of getting rid of the army, as well as of the king,
whenever they are in a condition to effect that measure. What hopes may
be entertained of your army for the restoration of your liberties I know
not. At present, yielding obedience to the pretended orders of a king
who, they are perfectly apprised, has no will, and who never can issue a
mandate which is not intended, in the first operation, or in its certain
consequences, for his own destruction, your army seems to make one of
the principal links in the chain of that servitude of anarchy by which a
cruel usurpation holds an undone people at once in bondage and
confusion.

You ask me what I think of the conduct of General Monk. How this affects
your case I cannot tell. I doubt whether you possess in France any
persons of a capacity to serve the French monarchy in the same manner in
which Monk served the monarchy of England. The army which Monk commanded
had been formed by Cromwell to a perfection of discipline which perhaps
has never been exceeded. That army was besides of an excellent
composition. The soldiers were men of extraordinary piety after their
mode; of the greatest regularity, and even severity of manners; brave in
the field, but modest, quiet, and orderly in their quarters; men who
abhorred the idea of assassinating their officers or any other persons,
and who (they at least who served in this island) were firmly attached
to those generals by whom they were well treated and ably commanded.
Such an army, once gained, might be depended on. I doubt much, if you
could now find a Monk, whether a Monk could find in France such an army.

I certainly agree with you, that in all probability we owe our whole
Constitution to the restoration of the English monarchy. The state of
things from which Monk relieved England was, however, by no means, at
that time, so deplorable, in any sense, as yours is now, and under the
present sway is likely to continue. Cromwell had delivered England from
anarchy. His government, though military and despotic, had been regular
and orderly. Under the iron, and under the yoke, the soil yielded its
produce. After his death the evils of anarchy were rather dreaded than
felt. Every man was yet safe in his house and in his property. But it
must be admitted that Monk freed this nation from great and just
apprehensions both of future anarchy and of probable tyranny in some
form or other. The king whom he gave us was, indeed, the very reverse of
your benignant sovereign, who, in reward for his attempt to bestow
liberty on his subjects, languishes himself in prison. The person given
to us by Monk was a man without any sense of his duty as a prince,
without any regard to the dignity of his crown, without any love to his
people,--dissolute, false, venal, and destitute of any positive good
quality whatsoever, except a pleasant temper, and the manners of a
gentleman. Yet the restoration of our monarchy, even in the person of
such a prince, was everything to us; for without monarchy in England,
most certainly we never can enjoy either peace or liberty. It was under
this conviction that the very first regular step which we took, on the
Revolution of 1688, was to fill the throne with a real king; and even
before it could be done in due form, the chiefs of the nation did not
attempt themselves to exercise authority so much as by _interim_. They
instantly requested the Prince of Orange to take the government on
himself. The throne was not effectively vacant for an hour.

Your fundamental laws, as well as ours, suppose a monarchy. Your zeal,
Sir, in standing so firmly for it as you have done, shows not only a
sacred respect for your honor and fidelity, but a well-informed
attachment to the real welfare and true liberties of your country. I
have expressed myself ill, if I have given you cause to imagine that I
prefer the conduct of those who have retired from this warfare to your
behavior, who, with a courage and constancy almost supernatural, have
struggled against tyranny, and kept the field to the last. You see I
have corrected the exceptionable part in the edition which I now send
you. Indeed, in such terrible extremities as yours, it is not easy to
say, in a political view, what line of conduct is the most advisable. In
that state of things, I cannot bring myself severely to condemn persons
who are wholly unable to bear so much as the sight of those men in the
throne of legislation who are only fit to be the objects of criminal
justice. If fatigue, if disgust, if unsurmountable nausea drive them
away from such spectacles, _ubi miseriarum pars non minima erat videre
et aspici_, I cannot blame them. He must have an heart of adamant who
could hear a set of traitors puffed up with unexpected and undeserved
power, obtained by an ignoble, unmanly, and perfidious rebellion,
treating their honest fellow-citizens as _rebels_, because they refused
to bind them selves through their conscience, against the dictates of
conscience itself, and had declined to swear an active compliance with
their own ruin. How could a man of common flesh and blood endure that
those who but the other day had skulked unobserved in their
antechambers, scornfully insulting men illustrious in their rank, sacred
in their function, and venerable in their character, now in decline of
life, and swimming on the wrecks of their fortunes,--that those
miscreants should tell such men scornfully and outrageously, after they
had robbed them of all their property, that it is more than enough, if
they are allowed what will keep them from absolute famine, and that, for
the rest, they must let their gray hairs fall over the plough, to make
out a scanty subsistence with the labor of their hands? Last, and,
worst, who could endure to hear this unnatural, insolent, and savage
despotism called liberty? If, at this distance, sitting quietly by my
fire, I cannot read their decrees and speeches without indignation,
shall I condemn those who have fled from the actual sight and hearing of
all these horrors? No, no! mankind has no title to demand that we should
be slaves to their guilt and insolence, or that we should serve them in
spite of themselves. Minds sore with the poignant sense of insulted
virtue, filled with high disdain against the pride of triumphant
baseness, often have it not in their choice to stand their ground. Their
complexion (which might defy the rack) cannot go through such a trial.
Something very high must fortify men to that proof. But when I am driven
to comparison, surely I cannot hesitate for a moment to prefer to such
men as are common those heroes who in the midst of despair perform all
the tasks of hope,--who subdue their feelings to their duties,--who, in
the cause of humanity, liberty, and honor, abandon all the satisfactions
of life, and every day incur a fresh risk of life itself. Do me the
justice to believe that I never can prefer any fastidious virtue (virtue
still) to the unconquered perseverance, to the affectionate patience, of
those who watch day and night by the bedside of their delirious
country,--who, for their love to that dear and venerable name, bear all
the disgusts and all the buffets they receive from their frantic mother.
Sir, I do look on you as true martyrs; I regard you as soldiers who act
far more in the spirit of our Commander-in-Chief and the Captain of our
Salvation than those who have left you: though I must first bolt myself
very thoroughly, and know that I could do better, before I can censure
them. I assure you, Sir, that, when I consider your unconquerable
fidelity to your sovereign and to your country,--the courage, fortitude,
magnanimity, and long-suffering of yourself, and the Abbé Maury, and of
M. Cazalès, and of many worthy persons of all orders in your
Assembly,--I forget, in the lustre of these great qualities, that on
your side has been displayed an eloquence so rational, manly, and
convincing, that no time or country, perhaps, has ever excelled. But
your talents disappear in my admiration of your virtues.

As to M. Mounier and M. Lally, I have always wished to do justice to
their parts, and their eloquence, and the general purity of their
motives. Indeed, I saw very well, from the beginning, the mischiefs
which, with all these talents and good intentions, they would do their
country, through their confidence in systems. But their distemper was an
epidemic malady. They were young and inexperienced; and when will young
and inexperienced men learn caution and distrust of themselves? And when
will men, young or old, if suddenly raised to far higher power than that
which absolute kings and emperors commonly enjoy, learn anything like
moderation? Monarchs, in general, respect some settled order of things,
which they find it difficult to move from its basis, and to which they
are obliged to conform, even when there are no positive limitations to
their power. These gentlemen conceived that they were chosen to
new-model the state, and even the whole order of civil society itself.
No wonder that _they_ entertained dangerous visions, when the king's
ministers, trustees for the sacred deposit of the monarchy, were so
infected with the contagion of project and system (I can hardly think it
black premeditated treachery) that they publicly advertised for plans
and schemes of government, as if they were to provide for the rebuilding
of an hospital that had been burned down. What was this, but to unchain
the fury of rash speculation amongst a people of itself but too apt to
be guided by a heated imagination and a wild spirit of adventure?

The fault of M. Mounier and M. Lally was very great; but it was very
general. If those gentlemen stopped, when they came to the brink of the
gulf of guilt and public misery that yawned before them in the abyss of
these dark and bottomless speculations, I forgive their first error: in
that they were involved with many. Their repentance was their own.

They who consider Mounier and Lally as deserters must regard themselves
as murderers and as traitors: for from what else than murder and treason
did they desert? For my part, I honor them for not having carried
mistake into crime. If, indeed, I thought that they were not cured by
experience, that they were not made sensible that those who would reform
a state ought to assume some actual constitution of government which is
to be reformed,--if they are not at length satisfied that it is become a
necessary preliminary to liberty in France, to commence by the
reëstablishment of order and property of _every_ kind, and, through the
reëstablishment of their monarchy, of every one of the old habitual
distinctions and classes of the state,--if they do not see that these
classes are not to be confounded in order to be afterwards revived and
separated,--if they are not convinced that the scheme of parochial and
club governments takes up the state at the wrong end, and is a low and
senseless contrivance, (as making the sole constitution of a supreme
power,)--I should then allow that their early rashness ought to be
remembered to the last moment of their lives.

You gently reprehend me, because, in holding out the picture of your
disastrous situation, I suggest no plan for a remedy. Alas! Sir, the
proposition of plans, without an attention to circumstances, is the very
cause of all your misfortunes; and never shall you find me aggravating,
by the infusion of any speculations of mine, the evils which have arisen
from the speculations of others. Your malady, in this respect, is a
disorder of repletion. You seem to think that my keeping back my poor
ideas may arise from an indifference to the welfare of a foreign and
sometimes an hostile nation. No, Sir, I faithfully assure you, my
reserve is owing to no such causes. Is this letter, swelled to a second
book, a mark of national antipathy, or even of national indifference? I
should act altogether in the spirit of the same caution, in a similar
state of our own domestic affairs. If I were to venture any advice, in
any case, it would be my best. The sacred duty of an adviser (one of the
most inviolable that exists) would lead me, towards a real enemy, to act
as if my best friend were the party concerned. But I dare not risk a
speculation with no better view of your affairs than at present I can
command; my caution is not from disregard, but from solicitude for your
welfare. It is suggested solely from my dread of becoming the author of
inconsiderate counsel.

It is not, that, as this strange series of actions has passed before my
eyes, I have not indulged my mind in a great variety of political
speculations concerning them; but, compelled by no such positive duty as
does not permit me to evade an opinion, called upon by no ruling power,
without authority as I am, and without confidence, I should ill answer
my own ideas of what would become myself, or what would be serviceable
to others, if I were, as a volunteer, to obtrude any project of mine
upon a nation to whose circumstances I could not be sure it might be
applicable.

Permit me to say, that, if I were as confident as I ought to be
diffident in my own loose, general ideas, I never should venture to
broach them, if but at twenty leagues' distance from the centre of your
affairs. I must see with my own eyes, I must, in a manner, touch with my
own hands, not only the fixed, but the momentary circumstances, before I
could venture to suggest any political project whatsoever. I must know
the power and disposition to accept, to execute, to persevere. I must
see all the aids and all the obstacles. I must see the means of
correcting the plan, where correctives would be wanted. I must see the
things; I must see the men. Without a concurrence and adaptation of
these to the design, the very best speculative projects might become not
only useless, but mischievous. Plans must be made for men. We cannot
think of making men, and binding Nature to our designs. People at a
distance must judge ill of men. They do not always answer to their
reputation, when you approach them. Nay, the perspective varies, and
shows them quite otherwise than you thought them. At a distance, if we
judge uncertainly of men, we must judge worse of _opportunities_, which
continually vary their shapes and colors, and pass away like clouds. The
Eastern politicians never do anything without the opinion of the
astrologers on _the fortunate moment_. They are in the right, if they
can do no better; for the opinion of fortune is something towards
commanding it. Statesmen of a more judicious prescience look for the
fortunate moment too; but they seek it, not in the conjunctions and
oppositions of planets, but in the conjunctions and oppositions of men
and things. These form their almanac.

To illustrate the mischief of a wise plan, without any attention to
means and circumstances, it is not necessary to go farther than to your
recent history. In the condition in which France was found three years
ago, what better system could be proposed, what less even savoring of
wild theory, what fitter to provide for all the exigencies whilst it
reformed all the abuses of government, than the convention of the
States-General? I think nothing better could be imagined. But I have
censured, and do still presume to censure, your Parliament of Paris for
not having suggested to the king that this proper measure was of all
measures the most critical and arduous, one in which the utmost
circumspection and the greatest number of precautions were the most
absolutely necessary. The very confession that a government wants either
amendment in its conformation or relief to great distress causes it to
lose half its reputation, and as great a proportion of its strength as
depends upon that reputation. It was therefore necessary first to put
government out of danger, whilst at its own desire it suffered such an
operation as a general reform at the hands of those who were much more
filled with a sense of the disease than provided with rational means of
a cure.

It may be said that this care and these precautions were more naturally
the duty of the king's ministers than that of the Parliament. They were
so: but every man must answer in his estimation for the advice he gives,
when he puts the conduct of his measure into hands who he does not know
will execute his plans according to his ideas. Three or four ministers
were not to be trusted with the being of the French monarchy, of all the
orders, and of all the distinctions, and all the property of the
kingdom. What must be the prudence of those who could think, in the then
known temper of the people of Paris, of assembling the States at a place
situated as Versailles?

The Parliament of Paris did worse than to inspire this blind confidence
into the king. For, as if names were things, they took no notice of
(indeed, they rather countenanced) the deviations, which were manifest
in the execution, from the true ancient principles of the plan which
they recommended. These deviations (as guardians of the ancient laws,
usages, and Constitution of the kingdom) the Parliament of Paris ought
not to have suffered, without the strongest remonstrances to the throne.
It ought to have sounded the alarm to the whole nation, as it had often
done on things of infinitely less importance. Under pretence of
resuscitating the ancient Constitution, the Parliament saw one of the
strongest acts of innovation, and the most leading in its consequences,
carried into effect before their eyes,--and an innovation through the
medium of despotism: that is, they suffered the king's ministers to
new-model the whole representation of the _Tiers État_, and, in a great
measure, that of the clergy too, and to destroy the ancient proportions
of the orders. These changes, unquestionably, the king had no right to
make; and here the Parliaments failed in their duty, and, along with
their country, have perished by this failure.

What a number of faults have led to this multitude of misfortunes, and
almost all from this one source,--that of considering certain general
maxims, without attending to circumstances, to times, to places, to
conjunctures, and to actors! If we do not attend scrupulously to all
these, the medicine of to-day becomes the poison of to-morrow. If any
measure was in the abstract better than another, it was to call the
States: _ea visa salus morientibus una_. Certainly it had the
appearance. But see the consequences of not attending to critical
moments, of not regarding the symptoms which discriminate diseases, and
which distinguish constitutions, complexions, and humors.

    Mox erat hoc ipsum exitio; furiisque refecti
    Ardebant; ipsique suos, jam morte sub ægra,
    Discissos nudis laniabant dentibus artus.

Thus the potion which was given to strengthen the Constitution, to heal
divisions, and to compose the minds of men, became the source of
debility, frenzy, discord, and utter dissolution.

In this, perhaps, I have answered, I think, another of your
questions,--Whether the British Constitution is adapted to your
circumstances? When I praised the British Constitution, and wished it to
be well studied, I did not mean that its exterior form and positive
arrangement should become a model for you or for any people servilely to
copy. I meant to recommend the _principles_ from which it has grown, and
the policy on which it has been progressively improved out of elements
common to you and to us. I am sure it is no visionary theory of mine. It
is not an advice that subjects you to the hazard of any experiment. I
believed the ancient principles to be wise in all cases of a large
empire that would be free. I thought you possessed our principles in
your old forms in as great a perfection as we did originally. If your
States agreed (as I think they did) with your circumstances, they were
best for you. As you had a Constitution formed upon principles similar
to ours, my idea was, that you might have improved them as we have done,
conforming them to the state and exigencies of the times, and the
condition of property in your country,--having the conservation of that
property, and the substantial basis of your monarchy, as principal
objects in all your reforms.

I do not advise an House of Lords to you. Your ancient course by
representatives of the noblesse (in your circumstances) appears to me
rather a better institution. I know, that, with you, a set of men of
rank have betrayed their constituents, their honor, their trust, their
king, and their country, and levelled themselves with their footmen,
that through this degradation they might afterwards put themselves above
their natural equals. Some of these persons have entertained a project,
that, in reward of this their black perfidy and corruption, they may be
chosen to give rise to a new order, and to establish themselves into an
House of Lords. Do you think, that, under the name of a British
Constitution, I mean to recommend to you such Lords, made of such kind
of stuff? I do not, however, include in this description all of those
who are fond of this scheme.

If you were now to form such an House of Peers, it would bear, in my
opinion, but little resemblance to ours, in its origin, character, or
the purposes which it might answer, at the same time that it would
destroy your true natural nobility. But if you are not in a condition to
frame a House of Lords, still less are you capable, in my opinion, of
framing anything which virtually and substantially could be answerable
(for the purposes of a stable, regular government) to our House of
Commons. That House is, within itself, a much more subtle and artificial
combination of parts and powers than people are generally aware of. What
knits it to the other members of the Constitution, what fits it to be at
once the great support and the great control of government, what makes
it of such admirable service to that monarchy which, if it limits, it
secures and strengthens, would require a long discourse, belonging to
the leisure of a contemplative man, not to one whose duty it is to join
in communicating practically to the people the blessings of such a
Constitution.

Your _Tiers État_ was not in effect and substance an House of Commons.
You stood in absolute need of something else to supply the manifest
defects in such a body as your _Tiers État_. On a sober and
dispassionate view of your old Constitution, as connected with all the
present circumstances, I was fully persuaded that the crown, standing as
things have stood, (and are likely to stand, if you are to have any
monarchy at all,) was and is incapable, alone and by itself, of holding
a just balance between the two orders, and at the same time of effecting
the interior and exterior purposes of a protecting government. I, whose
leading principle it is, in a reformation of the state, to make use of
existing materials, am of opinion that the representation of the clergy,
as a separate order, was an institution which touched all the orders
more nearly than any of them touched the other; that it was well fitted
to connect them, and to hold a place in any wise monarchical
commonwealth. If I refer you to your original Constitution, and think
it, as I do, substantially a good one, I do not amuse you in this, more
than in other things, with any inventions of mine. A certain
intemperance of intellect is the disease of the time, and the source of
all its other diseases. I will keep myself as untainted by it as I can.
Your architects build without a foundation. I would readily lend an
helping hand to any superstructure, when once this is effectually
secured,--but first I would say, [Greek: Dos pou stô].

You think, Sir, (and you might think rightly, upon the first view of the
theory,) that to provide for the exigencies of an empire so situated and
so related as that of France, its king ought to be invested with powers
very much superior to those which the king of England possesses under
the letter of our Constitution. Every degree of power necessary to the
state, and not destructive to the rational and moral freedom of
individuals, to that personal liberty and personal security which
contribute so much to the vigor, the prosperity, the happiness, and the
dignity of a nation,--every degree of power which does not suppose the
total absence of all control and all responsibility on the part of
ministers,--a king of France, in common sense, ought to possess. But
whether the exact measure of authority assigned by the letter of the law
to the king of Great Britain can answer to the exterior or interior
purposes of the French monarchy is a point which I cannot venture to
judge upon. Here, both in the power given, and its limitations, we have
always cautiously felt our way. The parts of our Constitution have
gradually, and almost insensibly, in a long course of time, accommodated
themselves to each other, and to their common as well as to their
separate purposes. But this adaptation of contending parts, as it has
not been in ours, so it can never be in yours, or in any country, the
effect of a single instantaneous regulation, and no sound heads could
ever think of doing it in that manner.

I believe, Sir, that many on the Continent altogether mistake the
condition of a king of Great Britain. He is a real king, and not an
executive officer. If he will not trouble himself with contemptible
details, nor wish to degrade himself by becoming a party in little
squabbles, I am far from sure that a king of Great Britain, in whatever
concerns him as a king, or indeed as a rational man, who combines his
public interest with his personal satisfaction, does not possess a more
real, solid, extensive power than the king of France was possessed of
before this miserable revolution. The direct power of the king of
England is considerable. His indirect, and far more certain power, is
great indeed. He stands in need of nothing towards dignity,--of nothing
towards splendor,--of nothing towards authority,--of nothing at all
towards consideration abroad. When was it that a king of England wanted
wherewithal to make him respected, courted, or perhaps even feared, in
every state in Europe?

I am constantly of opinion that your States, in three orders, on the
footing on which they stood in 1614, were capable of being brought into
a proper and harmonious combination with royal authority. This
constitution by Estates was the natural and only just representation of
France. It grew out of the habitual conditions, relations, and
reciprocal claims of men. It grew out of the circumstances of the
country, and out of the state of property. The wretched scheme of your
present masters is not to fit the Constitution to the people, but wholly
to destroy conditions, to dissolve relations, to change the state of the
nation, and to subvert property, in order to fit their country to their
theory of a Constitution.

Until you make out practically that great work, a combination of
opposing forces, "a work of labor long, and endless praise," the utmost
caution ought to have been used in the reduction of the royal power,
which alone was capable of holding together the comparatively
heterogeneous mass of your States. But at this day all these
considerations are unseasonable. To what end should we discuss the
limitations of royal power? Your king is in prison. Why speculate on the
measure and standard of liberty? I doubt much, very much indeed, whether
France is at all ripe for liberty on any standard. Men are qualified for
civil liberty in exact proportion to their disposition to put moral
chains upon their own appetites,--in proportion as their love to justice
is above their rapacity,--in proportion as their soundness and sobriety
of understanding is above their vanity and presumption,--in proportion
as they are more disposed to listen to the counsels of the wise and
good, in preference to the flattery of knaves. Society cannot exist,
unless a controlling power upon will and appetite be placed somewhere;
and the less of it there is within, the more there must be without. It
is ordained in the eternal constitution of things, that men of
intemperate minds cannot be free. Their passions forge their fetters.

This sentence the prevalent part of your countrymen execute on
themselves. They possessed not long since what was next to freedom, a
mild, paternal monarchy. They despised it for its weakness. They were
offered a well-poised, free Constitution. It did not suit their taste or
their temper. They carved for themselves: they flew out, murdered,
robbed, and rebelled. They have succeeded, and put over their country an
insolent tyranny made up of cruel and inexorable masters, and that, too,
of a description hitherto not known in the world. The powers and
policies by which they have succeeded are not those of great statesmen
or great military commanders, but the practices of incendiaries,
assassins, housebreakers, robbers, spreaders of false news, forgers of
false orders from authority, and other delinquencies, of which ordinary
justice takes cognizance. Accordingly, the spirit of their rule is
exactly correspondent to the means by which they obtained it. They act
more in the manner of thieves who have got possession of an house than
of conquerors who have subdued a nation.

Opposed to these, in appearance, but in appearance only, is another
band, who call themselves _the Moderate_. These, if I conceive rightly
of their conduct, are a set of men who approve heartily of the whole
new Constitution, but wish to lay heavy on the most atrocious of those
crimes by which this fine Constitution of theirs has been obtained. They
are a sort of people who affect to proceed as if they thought that men
may deceive without fraud, rob without injustice, and overturn
everything without violence. They are men who would usurp the government
of their country with decency and moderation. In fact, they are nothing
more or better than men engaged in desperate designs with feeble minds.
They are not honest; they are only ineffectual and unsystematic in their
iniquity. They are persons who want not the dispositions, but the energy
and vigor, that is necessary for great evil machinations. They find that
in such designs they fall at best into a secondary rank, and others take
the place and lead in usurpation which they are not qualified to obtain
or to hold. They envy to their companions the natural fruit of their
crimes; they join to run them down with the hue and cry of mankind,
which pursues their common offences; and then hope to mount into their
places on the credit of the sobriety with which they show themselves
disposed to carry on what may seem most plausible in the mischievous
projects they pursue in common. But these men are naturally despised by
those who have heads to know, and hearts that are able to go through the
necessary demands of bold, wicked enterprises. They are naturally
classed below the latter description, and will only be used by them as
inferior instruments. They will be only the Fairfaxes of your Cromwells.
If they mean honestly, why do they not strengthen the arms of honest men
to support their ancient, legal, wise, and free government, given to
them in the spring of 1788, against the inventions of craft and the
theories of ignorance and folly? If they do not, they must continue the
scorn of both parties,--sometimes the tool, sometimes the incumbrance of
that whose views they approve, whose conduct they decry. These people
are only made to be the sport of tyrants. They never can obtain or
communicate freedom.

You ask me, too, whether we have a Committee of Research. No, Sir,--God
forbid! It is the necessary instrument of tyranny and usurpation; and
therefore I do not wonder that it has had an early establishment under
your present lords. We do not want it.

Excuse my length. I have been somewhat occupied since I was honored with
your letter; and I should not have been able to answer it at all, but
for the holidays, which have given me means of enjoying the leisure of
the country. I am called to duties which I am neither able nor willing
to evade. I must soon return to my old conflict with the corruptions and
oppressions which have prevailed in our Eastern dominions. I must turn
myself wholly from those of France.

In England we _cannot_ work so hard as Frenchmen. Frequent relaxation is
necessary to us. You are naturally more intense in your application. I
did not know this part of your national character, until I went into
France in 1773. At present, this your disposition to labor is rather
increased than lessened. In your Assembly you do not allow yourselves a
recess even on Sundays. We have two days in the week, besides the
festivals, and besides five or six months of the summer and autumn. This
continued, unremitted effort of the members of your Assembly I take to
be one among the causes of the mischief they have done. They who always
labor can have no true judgment. You never give yourselves time to cool.
You can never survey, from its proper point of sight, the work you have
finished, before you decree its final execution. You can never plan the
future by the past. You never go into the country, soberly and
dispassionately to observe the effect of your measures on their objects.
You cannot feel distinctly how far the people are rendered better and
improved, or more miserable and depraved, by what you have done. You
cannot see with your own eyes the sufferings and afflictions you cause.
You know them but at a distance, on the statements of those who always
flatter the reigning power, and who, amidst their representations of the
grievances, inflame your minds against those who are oppressed. These
are amongst the effects of unremitted labor, when men exhaust their
attention, burn out their candles, and are left in the dark.--_Malo
meorum negligentiam, quam istorum obscuram diligentiam_.

I have the honor, &c.,

EDMUND BURKE.

BEACONSFIELD, January 19th, 1791.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is said in the last quackish address of the National Assembly to
the people of France, that they have not formed their arrangements upon
vulgar practice, but on a theory which cannot fail,--or something to
that effect.

[2] See Burnet's Life of Hale.

[3] The pillory (_carcan_) in England is generally made very high like
that raised to exposing the king of France.

[4] "Filiola tua te delectari lætor, et prohari tibi [Greek: Phusikên]
esse [Greek: tên pros ta tekna]: etenim, si hæc non est, nulla potest
homini esse ad hominem naturæ adjunctio: qua sublata, vitæ societas
tollitur. Valete Patron [Rousseau] et tui condiscipuli [L'Assemblée
Nationale]"--Cic. Ep. ad Atticum.

[5] Mirabeau's speech concerning universal peace.




AN

APPEAL

FROM

THE NEW TO THE OLD WHIGS,

IN CONSEQUENCE OF SOME LATE

DISCUSSIONS IN PARLIAMENT

RELATIVE TO THE

REFLECTIONS ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

1791.




ADVERTISEMENT

TO THE SECOND EDITION.


There are some corrections in this edition, which tend to render the
sense less obscure in one or two places. The order of the two last
members is also changed, and I believe for the better. This change was
made on the suggestion of a very learned person, to the partiality of
whose friendship I owe much; to the severity of whose judgment I owe
more.




AN APPEAL

FROM

THE NEW TO THE OLD WHIGS.


At Mr. Burke's time of life, and in his dispositions, _petere honestam
missionem_ was all he had to do with his political associates. This boon
they have not chosen to grant him. With many expressions of good-will,
in effect they tell him he has loaded the stage too long. They conceive
it, though an harsh, yet a necessary office, in full Parliament to
declare to the present age, and to as late a posterity as shall take any
concern in the proceedings of our day, that by one book he has disgraced
the whole tenor of his life.--Thus they dismiss their old partner of the
war. He is advised to retire, whilst they continue to serve the public
upon wiser principles and under better auspices.

Whether Diogenes the Cynic was a true philosopher cannot easily be
determined. He has written nothing. But the sayings of his which are
handed down by others are lively, and may be easily and aptly applied on
many occasions by those whose wit is not so perfect as their memory.
This Diogenes (as every one will recollect) was citizen of a little
bleak town situated on the coast of the Euxine, and exposed to all the
buffets of that inhospitable sea. He lived at a great distance from
those weather-beaten walls, in ease and indolence, and in the midst of
literary leisure, when he was informed that his townsmen had condemned
him to be banished from Sinope; he answered coolly, "And I condemn them
to live in Sinope."

The gentlemen of the party in which Mr. Burke has always acted, in
passing upon him the sentence of retirement,[6] have done nothing more
than to confirm the sentence which he had long before passed upon
himself. When that retreat was choice, which the tribunal of his peers
inflict as punishment, it is plain he does not think their sentence
intolerably severe. Whether they, who are to continue in the Sinope
which shortly he is to leave, will spend the long years, which I hope
remain to them, in a manner more to their satisfaction than he shall
slide down, in silence and obscurity, the slope of his declining days,
is best known to Him who measures out years, and days, and fortunes.

The quality of the sentence does not, however, decide on the justice of
it. Angry friendship is sometimes as bad as calm enmity. For this reason
the cold neutrality of abstract justice is, to a good and clear cause, a
more desirable thing than an affection liable to be any way disturbed.
When the trial is by friends, if the decision should happen to be
favorable, the honor of the acquittal is lessened; if adverse, the
condemnation is exceedingly embittered. It is aggravated by coming from
lips professing friendship, and pronouncing judgment with sorrow and
reluctance. Taking in the whole view of life, it is more safe to live
under the jurisdiction of severe, but steady reason, than under the
empire of indulgent, but capricious passion. It is certainly well for
Mr. Burke that there are impartial men in the world. To them I address
myself, pending the appeal which on his part is made from the living to
the dead, from the modern Whigs to the ancient.

The gentlemen, who, in the name of the party, have passed sentence on
Mr. Burke's book, in the light of literary criticism, are judges above
all challenge. He did not, indeed, flatter himself that as a writer he
could claim the approbation of men whose talents, in his judgment and in
the public judgment, approach to prodigies, if ever such persons should
be disposed to estimate the merit of a composition upon the standard of
their own ability.

In their critical censure, though Mr. Burke may find himself humbled by
it as a writer, as a man, and as an Englishman, he finds matter not only
of consolation, but of pride. He proposed to convey to a foreign people,
not his own ideas, but the prevalent opinions and sentiments of a
nation, renowned for wisdom, and celebrated in all ages for a
well-understood and well-regulated love of freedom. This was the avowed
purpose of the far greater part of his work. As that work has not been
ill received, and as his critics will not only admit, but contend, that
this reception could not be owing to any excellence in the composition
capable of perverting the public judgment, it is clear that he is not
disavowed by the nation whose sentiments he had undertaken to describe.
His representation is authenticated by the verdict of his country. Had
his piece, as a work of skill, been thought worthy of commendation, some
doubt might have been entertained of the cause of his success. But the
matter stands exactly as he wishes it. He is more happy to have his
fidelity in representation recognized by the body of the people than if
he were to be ranked in point of ability (and higher he could not be
ranked) with those whose critical censure he has had the misfortune to
incur.

It is not from this part of their decision which the author wishes an
appeal. There are things which touch him more nearly. To abandon them
would argue, not diffidence in his abilities, but treachery to his
cause. Had his work been recognized as a pattern for dexterous argument
and powerful eloquence, yet, if it tended to establish maxims or to
inspire sentiments adverse to the wise and free Constitution of this
kingdom, he would only have cause to lament that it possessed qualities
fitted to perpetuate the memory of his offence. Oblivion would be the
only means of his escaping the reproaches of posterity. But, after
receiving the common allowance due to the common weakness of man, he
wishes to owe no part of the indulgence of the world to its
forgetfulness. He is at issue with the party before the present, and,
if ever he can reach it, before the coming generation.

The author, several months previous to his publication, well knew that
two gentlemen, both of them possessed of the most distinguished
abilities, and of a most decisive authority in the party, had differed
with him in one of the most material points relative to the French
Revolution: that is, in their opinion of the behavior of the French
soldiery, and its revolt from its officers. At the time of their public
declaration on this subject, he did not imagine the opinion of these two
gentlemen had extended a great way beyond themselves. He was, however,
well aware of the probability that persons of their just credit and
influence would at length dispose the greater number to an agreement
with their sentiments, and perhaps might induce the whole body to a
tacit acquiescence in their declarations, under a natural and not always
an improper dislike of showing a difference with those who lead their
party. I will not deny that in general this conduct in parties is
defensible; but within what limits the practice is to be circumscribed,
and with what exceptions the doctrine which supports it is to be
received, it is not my present purpose to define. The present question
has nothing to do with their motives; it only regards the public
expression of their sentiments.

The author is compelled, however reluctantly, to receive the sentence
pronounced upon him in the House of Commons as that of the party. It
proceeded from the mouth of him who must be regarded as its authentic
organ. In a discussion which continued for two days, no one gentleman of
the opposition interposed a negative, or even a doubt, in favor of him
or his opinions. If an idea consonant to the doctrine of his book, or
favorable to his conduct, lurks in the minds of any persons in that
description, it is to be considered only as a peculiarity which they
indulge to their own private liberty of thinking. The author cannot
reckon upon it. It has nothing to do with them as members of a party. In
their public capacity, in everything that meets the public ear or public
eye, the body must be considered as unanimous.

They must have been animated with a very warm zeal against those
opinions, because they were under no _necessity_ of acting as they did,
from any just cause of apprehension that the errors of this writer
should be taken for theirs. They might disapprove; it was not necessary
they should _disavow_ him, as they have done in the whole and in all the
parts of his book; because neither in the whole nor in any of the parts
were they directly, or by any implication, involved. The author was
known, indeed, to have been warmly, strenuously, and affectionately,
against all allurements of ambition, and all possibility of alienation
from pride or personal pique or peevish jealousy, attached to the Whig
party. With one of them he has had a long friendship, which he must ever
remember with a melancholy pleasure. To the great, real, and amiable
virtues, and to the unequalled abilities of that gentleman, he shall
always join with his country in paying a just tribute of applause. There
are others in that party for whom, without any shade of sorrow, he bears
as high a degree of love as can enter into the human heart, and as much
veneration as ought to be paid to human creatures; because he firmly
believes that they are endowed with as many and as great virtues as the
nature of man is capable of producing, joined to great clearness of
intellect, to a just judgment, to a wonderful temper, and to true
wisdom. His sentiments with regard to them can never vary, without
subjecting him to the just indignation of mankind, who are bound, and
are generally disposed, to look up with reverence to the best patterns
of their species, and such as give a dignity to the nature of which we
all participate. For the whole of the party he has high respect. Upon a
view, indeed, of the composition of all parties, he finds great
satisfaction. It is, that, in leaving the service of his country, he
leaves Parliament without all comparison richer in abilities than he
found it. Very solid and very brilliant talents distinguish the
ministerial benches. The opposite rows are a sort of seminary of genius,
and have brought forth such and so great talents as never before
(amongst us at least) have appeared together. If their owners are
disposed to serve their country, (he trusts they are,) they are in a
condition to render it services of the highest importance. If, through
mistake or passion, they are led to contribute to its ruin, we shall at
least have a consolation denied to the ruined country that adjoins us:
we shall not be destroyed by men of mean or secondary capacities.

All these considerations of party attachment, of personal regard, and of
personal admiration rendered the author of the Reflections extremely
cautious, lest the slightest suspicion should arise of his having
undertaken to express the sentiments even of a single man of that
description. His words at the outset of his Reflections are these:--

"In the first letter I had the honor to write to you, and which at
length I send, I wrote neither _for_ nor _from_ any description of men;
nor shall I in this. My errors, if any, are _my own_. My reputation
_alone_ is to answer for them." In another place he says, (p. 126,[7])
"I have _no man's_ proxy. I speak _only_ from _myself_, when I disclaim,
as I do with all possible earnestness, all communion with the actors in
that triumph, or with the admirers of it. When I assert anything else,
as concerning the people of England, I speak from observation, _not from
authority_."

To say, then, that the book did not contain the sentiments of their
party is not to contradict the author or to clear themselves. If the
party had denied his doctrines to be the current opinions of the
majority in the nation, they would have put the question on its true
issue. There, I hope and believe, his censurers will find, on the trial,
that the author is as faithful a representative of the general sentiment
of the people of England, as any person amongst them can be of the ideas
of his own party.

The French Revolution can have no connection with the objects of any
parties in England formed before the period of that event, unless they
choose to imitate any of its acts, or to consolidate any principles of
that Revolution with their own opinions. The French Revolution is no
part of their original contract. The matter, standing by itself, is an
open subject of political discussion, like all the other revolutions
(and there are many) which have been attempted or accomplished in our
age. But if any considerable number of British subjects, taking a
factious interest in the proceedings of France, begin publicly to
incorporate themselves for the subversion of nothing short of the
_whole_ Constitution of this kingdom,--to incorporate themselves for the
utter overthrow of the body of its laws, civil and ecclesiastical, and
with them of the whole system of its manners, in favor of the new
Constitution and of the modern usages of the French nation,--I think no
party principle could bind the author not to express his sentiments
strongly against such a faction. On the contrary, he was perhaps bound
to mark his dissent, when the leaders of the party were daily going out
of their way to make public declarations in Parliament, which,
notwithstanding the purity of their intentions, had a tendency to
encourage ill-designing men in their practices against our Constitution.

The members of this faction leave no doubt of the nature and the extent
of the mischief they mean to produce. They declare it openly and
decisively. Their intentions are not left equivocal. They are put out of
all dispute by the thanks which, formally and as it were officially,
they issue, in order to recommend and to promote the circulation of the
most atrocious and treasonable libels against all the hitherto cherished
objects of the love and veneration of this people. Is it contrary to the
duty of a good subject to reprobate such proceedings? Is it alien to the
office of a good member of Parliament, when such practices increase, and
when the audacity of the conspirators grows with their impunity, to
point out in his place their evil tendency to the happy Constitution
which he is chosen to guard? Is it wrong, in any sense, to render the
people of England sensible how much they must suffer, if, unfortunately,
such a wicked faction should become possessed in this country of the
same power which their allies in the very next to us have so
perfidiously usurped and so outrageously abused? Is it inhuman to
prevent, if possible, the spilling _their_ blood, or imprudent to guard
against the effusion of _our own?_ Is it contrary to any of the honest
principles of party, or repugnant to any of the known duties of
friendship, for any senator respectfully and amicably to caution his
brother members against countenancing, by inconsiderate expressions, a
sort of proceeding which it is impossible they should deliberately
approve?

He had undertaken to demonstrate, by arguments which he thought could
not be refuted, and by documents which he was sure could not be denied,
that no comparison was to be made between the British government and the
French usurpation.--That they who endeavored madly to compare them were
by no means making the comparison of one good system with another good
system, which varied only in local and circumstantial differences; much
less that they were holding out to us a superior pattern of legal
liberty, which we might substitute in the place of our old, and, as they
describe it, superannuated Constitution. He meant to demonstrate that
the French scheme was not a comparative good, but a positive evil.--That
the question did not at all turn, as it had been stated, on a parallel
between a monarchy and a republic. He denied that the present scheme of
things in France did at all deserve the respectable name of a republic:
he had therefore no comparison between monarchies and republics to
make.--That what was done in France was a wild attempt to methodize
anarchy, to perpetuate and fix disorder. That it was a foul, impious,
monstrous thing, wholly out of the course of moral Nature. He undertook
to prove that it was generated in treachery, fraud, falsehood,
hypocrisy, and unprovoked murder.--He offered to make out that those who
have led in that business had conducted themselves with the utmost
perfidy to their colleagues in function, and with the most flagrant
perjury both towards their king and their constituents: to the one of
whom the Assembly had sworn fealty; and to the other, when under no sort
of violence or constraint, they had sworn a full obedience to
instructions.--That, by the terror of assassination, they had driven
away a very great number of the members, so as to produce a false
appearance of a majority.--That this fictitious majority had fabricated
a Constitution, which, as now it stands, is a tyranny far beyond any
example that can be found in the civilized European world of our age;
that therefore the lovers of it must be lovers, not of liberty, but, if
they really understand its nature, of the lowest and basest of all
servitude.

He proposed to prove that the present state of things in France is not a
transient evil, productive, as some have too favorably represented it,
of a lasting good; but that the present evil is only the means of
producing future and (if that were possible) worse evils.--That it is
not an undigested, imperfect, and crude scheme of liberty, which may
gradually be mellowed and ripened into an orderly and social freedom;
but that it is so fundamentally wrong as to be utterly incapable of
correcting itself by any length of time, or of being formed into any
mode of polity of which a member of the House of Commons could publicly
declare his approbation.

If it had been permitted to Mr. Burke, he would have shown distinctly,
and in detail, that what the Assembly calling itself National had held
out as a large and liberal toleration is in reality a cruel and
insidious religious persecution, infinitely more bitter than any which
had been heard of within this century.--That it had a feature in it
worse than the old persecutions.--That the old persecutors acted, or
pretended to act, from zeal towards some system of piety and virtue:
they gave strong preferences to their own; and if they drove people from
one religion, they provided for them another, in which men might take
refuge and expect consolation.--That their new persecution is not
against a variety in conscience, but against all conscience. That it
professes contempt towards its object; and whilst it treats all religion
with scorn, is not so much as neutral about the modes: it unites the
opposite evils of intolerance and of indifference.

He could have proved that it is so far from rejecting tests, (as
unaccountably had been asserted,) that the Assembly had imposed tests of
a peculiar hardship, arising from a cruel and premeditated pecuniary
fraud: tests against old principles, sanctioned by the laws, and binding
upon the conscience.--That these tests were not imposed as titles to
some new honor or some new benefit, but to enable men to hold a poor
compensation for their legal estates, of which they had been unjustly
deprived; and as they had before been reduced from affluence to
indigence, so, on refusal to swear against their conscience, they are
now driven from indigence to famine, and treated with every possible
degree of outrage, insult, and inhumanity.--That these tests, which
their imposers well knew would not be taken, were intended for the very
purpose of cheating their miserable victims out of the compensation
which the tyrannic impostors of the Assembly had previously and
purposely rendered the public unable to pay. That thus their ultimate
violence arose from their original fraud.

He would have shown that the universal peace and concord amongst
nations, which these common enemies to mankind had held out with the
same fraudulent ends and pretences with which they had uniformly
conducted every part of their proceeding, was a coarse and clumsy
deception, unworthy to be proposed as an example, by an informed and
sagacious British senator, to any other country.--That, far from peace
and good-will to men, they meditated war against all other governments,
and proposed systematically to excite in them all the very worst kind of
seditions, in order to lead to their common destruction.--That they had
discovered, in the few instances in which they have hitherto had the
power of discovering it, (as at Avignon and in the Comtat, at Cavaillon
and at Carpentras,) in what a savage manner they mean to conduct the
seditions and wars they have planned against their neighbors, for the
sake of putting themselves at the head of a confederation of republics
as wild and as mischievous as their own. He would have shown in what
manner that wicked scheme was carried on in those places, without being
directly either owned or disclaimed, in hopes that the undone people
should at length be obliged to fly to their tyrannic protection, as some
sort of refuge from their barbarous and treacherous hostility. He would
have shown from those examples that neither this nor any other society
could be in safety as long as such a public enemy was in a condition to
continue directly or indirectly such practices against its peace.--That
Great Britain was a principal object of their machinations; and that
they had begun by establishing correspondences, communications, and a
sort of federal union with the factious here.--That no practical
enjoyment of a thing so imperfect and precarious as human happiness must
be, even under the very best of governments, could be a security for the
existence of these governments, during the prevalence of the principles
of France, propagated from that grand school of every disorder and every
vice.

He was prepared to show the madness of their declaration of the
pretended rights of man,--the childish, futility of some of their
maxims, the gross and stupid absurdity and the palpable falsity of
others, and the mischievous tendency of all such declarations to the
well-being of men and of citizens and to the safety and prosperity of
every just commonwealth. He was prepared to show, that, in their
conduct, the Assembly had directly violated not only every sound
principle of government, but every one, without exception, of their own
false or futile maxims, and indeed every rule they had pretended to lay
down for their own direction.

In a word, he was ready to show that those who could, after such a full
and fair exposure, continue to countenance the French insanity were not
mistaken politicians, but bad men; but he thought that in this case, as
in many others, ignorance had been the cause of admiration.

These are strong assertions. They required strong proofs. The member who
laid down these positions was and is ready to give, in his place, to
each position decisive evidence, correspondent to the nature and quality
of the several allegations.

In order to judge on the propriety of the interruption given to Mr.
Burke, in his speech in the committee of the Quebec Bill, it is
necessary to inquire, First, whether, on general principles, he ought to
have been suffered to prove his allegations? Secondly, whether the time
he had chosen was so very unseasonable as to make his exercise of a
parliamentary right productive of ill effects on his friends or his
country? Thirdly, whether the opinions delivered in his book, and which
he had begun to expatiate upon that day, were in contradiction to his
former principles, and inconsistent with the general tenor of his public
conduct?

They who have made eloquent panegyrics on the French Revolution, and who
think a free discussion so very advantageous in every case and under
every circumstance, ought not, in my opinion, to have prevented their
eulogies from being tried on the test of facts. If their panegyric had
been answered with an invective, (bating the difference in point of
eloquence,) the one would have been as good as the other: that is, they
would both of them have been good for nothing. The panegyric and the
satire ought to be suffered to go to trial; and that which shrinks from
if must be contented to stand, at best, as a mere declamation.

I do not think Mr. Burke was wrong in the course he took. That which
seemed to be recommended to him by Mr. Pitt was rather to extol the
English Constitution than to attack the French. I do not determine what
would be best for Mr. Pitt to do in his situation. I do not deny that
_he_ may have good reasons for his reserve. Perhaps they might have been
as good for a similar reserve on the part of Mr. Fox, if his zeal had
suffered him to listen to them. But there were no motives of ministerial
prudence, or of that prudence which ought to guide a man perhaps on the
eve of being minister, to restrain the author of the Reflections. He is
in no office under the crown; he is not the organ of any party.

The excellencies of the British Constitution had already exercised and
exhausted the talents of the best thinkers and the most eloquent writers
and speakers that the world ever saw. But in the present case a system
declared to be far better, and which certainly is much newer, (to
restless and unstable minds no small recommendation,) was held out to
the admiration of the good people of England. In that case it was surely
proper for those who had far other thoughts of the French Constitution
to scrutinize that plan which has been recommended to our imitation by
active and zealous factions at home and abroad. Our complexion is such,
that we are palled with enjoyment, and stimulated with hope,--that we
become less sensible to a long-possessed benefit from the very
circumstance that it is become habitual. Specious, untried, ambiguous
prospects of new advantage recommend themselves to the spirit of
adventure which more or less prevails in every mind. From this temper,
men and factions, and nations too, have sacrificed the good of which
they had been in assured possession, in favor of wild and irrational
expectations. What should hinder Mr. Burke, if he thought this temper
likely at one time or other to prevail in our country, from exposing to
a multitude eager to game the false calculations of this lottery of
fraud?

I allow, as I ought to do, for the effusions which come from a _general_
zeal for liberty. This is to be indulged, and even to be encouraged, as
long as _the question is general_. An orator, above all men, ought to be
allowed a full and free use of the praise of liberty. A commonplace in
favor of slavery and tyranny, delivered to a popular assembly, would
indeed be a bold defiance to all the principles of rhetoric. But in a
question whether any particular Constitution is or is not a plan of
rational liberty, this kind of rhetorical flourish in favor of freedom
in general is surely a little out of its place. It is virtually a
begging of the question. It is a song of triumph before the battle.

"But Mr. Fox does not make the panegyric of the new Constitution; it is
the destruction only of the absolute monarchy he commends." When that
nameless thing which has been lately set up in France was described as
"the most stupendous and glorious edifice of liberty which had been
erected on the foundation of human integrity in any time or country," it
might at first have led the hearer into an opinion that the construction
of the new fabric was an object of admiration, as well as the demolition
of the old. Mr. Fox, however, has explained himself; and it would be too
like that captious and cavilling spirit which I so perfectly detest, if
I were to pin down the language of an eloquent and ardent mind to the
punctilious exactness of a pleader. Then Mr. Fox did not mean to applaud
that monstrous thing which, by the courtesy of France, they call a
Constitution. I easily believe it. Far from meriting the praises of a
great genius like Mr. Fox, it cannot be approved by any man of common
sense or common information. He cannot admire the change of one piece of
barbarism for another, and a worse. He cannot rejoice at the destruction
of a monarchy, mitigated by manners, respectful to laws and usages, and
attentive, perhaps but too attentive, to public opinion, in favor of the
tyranny of a licentious, ferocious, and savage multitude, without laws,
manners, or morals, and which, so far from respecting the general sense
of mankind, insolently endeavors to alter all the principles and
opinions which have hitherto guided and contained the world, and to
force them into a conformity to their views and actions. His mind is
made to better things.

That a man should rejoice and triumph in the destruction of an absolute
monarchy,--that in such an event he should overlook the captivity,
disgrace, and degradation of an unfortunate prince, and the continual
danger to a life which exists only to be endangered,--that he should
overlook the utter ruin of whole orders and classes of men, extending
itself directly, or in its nearest consequences, to at least a million
of our kind, and to at least the temporary wretchedness of a whole
community,--I do not deny to be in some sort natural; because, when
people see a political object which they ardently desire but in one
point of view, they are apt extremely to palliate or underrate the evils
which may arise in obtaining it. This is no reflection on the humanity
of those persons. Their good-nature I am the last man in the world to
dispute. It only shows that they are not sufficiently informed or
sufficiently considerate. When they come to reflect seriously on the
transaction, they will think themselves bound to examine what the
object is that has been acquired by all this havoc. They will hardly
assert that the destruction of an absolute monarchy is a thing good in
itself, without any sort of reference to the antecedent state of things,
or to consequences which result from the change,--without any
consideration whether under its ancient rule a country was to a
considerable degree flourishing and populous, highly cultivated and
highly commercial, and whether, under that domination, though personal
liberty had been precarious and insecure, property at least was ever
violated. They cannot take the moral sympathies of the human mind along
with them, in abstractions separated from the good or evil condition of
the state, from the quality of actions, and the character of the actors.
None of us love absolute and uncontrolled monarchy; but we could not
rejoice at the sufferings of a Marcus Aurelius or a Trajan, who were
absolute monarchs, as we do when Nero is condemned by the Senate to be
punished _more majorum_; nor, when that monster was obliged to fly with
his wife Sporus, and to drink puddle, were men affected in the same
manner as when the venerable Galba, with all his faults and errors, was
murdered by a revolted mercenary soldiery. With such things before our
eyes, our feelings contradict our theories; and when this is the case,
the feelings are true, and the theory is false. What I contend for is,
that, in commending the destruction of an absolute monarchy, _all the
circumstances_ ought not to be wholly overlooked, as "considerations fit
only for shallow and superficial minds." (The words of Mr. Fox, or to
that effect.)

The subversion of a government, to deserve any praise, must be
considered but as a step preparatory to the formation of something
better, either in the scheme of the government itself, or in the persons
who administer it, or in both. These events cannot in reason be
separated. For instance, when we praise our Revolution of 1688, though
the nation in that act was on the defensive, and was justified in
incurring all the evils of a defensive war, we do not rest there. We
always combine with the subversion of the old government the happy
settlement which followed. When we estimate that Revolution, we mean to
comprehend in our calculation both the value of the thing parted with
and the value of the thing received in exchange.

The burden of proof lies heavily on those who tear to pieces the whole
frame and contexture of their country, that they could find no other way
of settling a government fit to obtain its rational ends, except that
which they have pursued by means unfavorable to all the present
happiness of millions of people, and to the utter ruin of several
hundreds of thousands. In their political arrangements, men have no
right to put the well-being of the present generation wholly out of the
question. Perhaps the only moral trust with any certainty in our hands
is the care of our own time. With regard to futurity, we are to treat it
like a ward. We are not so to attempt an improvement of his fortune as
to put the capital of his estate to any hazard.

It is not worth our while to discuss, like sophisters, whether in no
case some evil for the sake of some benefit is to be tolerated. Nothing
universal can be rationally affirmed on any moral or any political
subject. Pure metaphysical abstraction does not belong to these
matters. The lines of morality are not like the ideal lines of
mathematics. They are broad and deep as well as long. They admit of
exceptions; they demand modifications. These exceptions and
modifications are not made by the process of logic, but by the rules of
prudence. Prudence is not only the first in rank of the virtues
political and moral, but she is the director, the regulator, the
standard of them all. Metaphysics cannot live without definition; but
Prudence is cautious how she defines. Our courts cannot be more fearful
in suffering fictitious cases to be brought before them for eliciting
their determination on a point of law than prudent moralists are in
putting extreme and hazardous cases of conscience upon emergencies not
existing. Without attempting, therefore, to define, what never can be
defined, the case of a revolution in government, this, I think, may be
safely affirmed,--that a sore and pressing evil is to be removed, and
that a good, great in its amount and unequivocal in its nature, must be
probable almost to certainty, before the inestimable price of our own
morals and the well-being of a number of our fellow-citizens is paid for
a revolution. If ever we ought to be economists even to parsimony, it is
in the voluntary production of evil. Every revolution contains in it
something of evil.

It must always be, to those who are the greatest amateurs, or even
professors, of revolutions, a matter very hard to prove, that the late
French government was so bad that nothing worse in the infinite devices
of men could come in its place. They who have brought France to its
present condition ought to prove also, by something better than
prattling about the Bastile, that their subverted government was as
incapable as the present certainly is of all improvement and
correction. How dare they to say so who have never made that experiment?
They are experimenters by their trade. They have made an hundred others,
infinitely more hazardous.

The English admirers of the forty-eight thousand republics which form
the French federation praise them not for what they are, but for what
they are to become. They do not talk as politicians, but as prophets.
But in whatever character they choose to found panegyric on prediction,
it will be thought a little singular to praise any work, not for its own
merits, but for the merits of something else which may succeed to it.
When any political institution is praised, in spite of great and
prominent faults of every kind, and in all its parts, it must be
supposed to have something excellent in its fundamental principles. It
must be shown that it is right, though imperfect,--that it is not only
by possibility susceptible of improvement, but that it contains in it a
principle tending to its melioration.

Before they attempt to show this progression of their favorite work from
absolute pravity to finished perfection, they will find themselves
engaged in a civil war with those whose cause they maintain. What! alter
our sublime Constitution, the glory of France, the envy of the world,
the pattern for mankind, the masterpiece of legislation, the collected
and concentrated glory of this enlightened age? Have we not produced it
ready-made and ready-armed, mature in its birth, a perfect goddess of
wisdom and of war, hammered by our blacksmith midwives out of the brain
of Jupiter himself? Have we not sworn our devout, profane, believing,
infidel people to an allegiance to this goddess, even before she had
burst the _dura mater_, and as yet existed only in embryo? Have we not
solemnly declared this Constitution unalterable by any future
legislature? Have we not bound it on posterity forever, though our
abettors have declared that no one generation is competent to bind
another? Have we not obliged the members of every future Assembly to
qualify themselves for their seats by swearing to its conservation?

Indeed, the French Constitution always must be (if a change is not made
in all their principles and fundamental arrangements) a government
wholly by popular representation. It must be this or nothing. The French
faction considers as an usurpation, as an atrocious violation of the
indefensible rights of man, every other description of government. Take
it, or leave it: there is no medium. Let the irrefragable doctors fight
out their own controversy in their own way and with their own weapons;
and when they are tired, let them commence a treaty of peace. Let the
plenipotentiary sophisters of England settle with the diplomatic
sophisters of France in what manner right is to be corrected by an
infusion of wrong, and how truth may be rendered more true by a due
intermixture of falsehood.

       *       *       *       *       *

Having sufficiently proved that nothing could make it _generally_
improper for Mr. Burke to prove what he had alleged concerning the
object of this dispute, I pass to the second question, that is, Whether
he was justified in choosing the committee on the Quebec Bill as the
field for this discussion? If it were necessary, it might be shown that
he was not the first to bring these discussions into Parliament, nor the
first to renew them in this session. The fact is notorious. As to the
Quebec Bill, they were introduced into the debate upon that subject for
two plain reasons: First, that, as he thought it _then_ not advisable to
make the proceedings of the factious societies the subject of a direct
motion, he had no other way open to him. Nobody has attempted to show
that it was at all admissible into any other business before the House.
Here everything was favorable. Here was a bill to form a new
Constitution for a French province under English dominion. The question
naturally arose, whether we should settle that constitution upon English
ideas, or upon French. This furnished an opportunity for examining into
the value of the French Constitution, either considered as applicable to
colonial government, or in its own nature. The bill, too, was in a
committee. By the privilege of speaking as often as he pleased, he hoped
in some measure to supply the want of support, which he had but too much
reason to apprehend. In a committee it was always in his power to bring
the questions from generalities to facts, from declamation to
discussion. Some benefit he actually received from this privilege. These
are plain, obvious, natural reasons for his conduct. I believe they are
the true, and the only true ones.

They who justify the frequent interruptions, which at length wholly
disabled him from proceeding, attribute their conduct to a very
different interpretation of his motives. They say, that, through
corruption, or malice, or folly, he was acting his part in a plot to
make his friend Mr. Fox pass for a republican, and thereby to prevent
the gracious intentions of his sovereign from taking effect, which at
that time had begun to disclose themselves in his favor.[8] This is a
pretty serious charge. This, on Mr. Burke's part, would be something
more than mistake, something worse than formal irregularity. Any
contumely, any outrage, is readily passed over, by the indulgence which
we all owe to sudden passion. These things are soon forgot upon
occasions in which all men are so apt to forget themselves. Deliberate
injuries, to a degree, must be remembered, because they require
deliberate precautions to be secured against their return.

I am authorized to say for Mr. Burke, that he considers that cause
assigned for the outrage offered to him as ten times worse than the
outrage itself. There is such a strange confusion of ideas on this
subject, that it is far more difficult to understand the nature of the
charge than to refute it when understood. Mr. Fox's friends were, it
seems, seized with a sudden panic terror lest he should pass for a
republican. I do not think they had any ground for this apprehension.
But let us admit they had. What was there in the Quebec Bill, rather
than in any other, which could subject him or them to that imputation?
Nothing in a discussion of the French Constitutions which might arise on
the Quebec Bill, could tend to make Mr. Fox pass for a republican,
except he should take occasion to extol that state of things in France
which affects to be a republic or a confederacy of republics. If such an
encomium could make any unfavorable impression on the king's mind,
surely his voluntary panegyrics on that event, not so much introduced as
intruded into other debates, with which they had little relation, must
have produced that effect with much more certainty and much greater
force. The Quebec Bill, at worst, was only one of those opportunities
carefully sought and industriously improved by himself. Mr. Sheridan had
already brought forth a panegyric on the French system in a still higher
strain, with full as little demand from the nature of the business
before the House, in a speech too good to be speedily forgotten. Mr. Fox
followed him without any direct call from the subject-matter, and upon
the same ground. To canvass the merits of the French Constitution on the
Quebec Bill could not draw forth any opinions which were not brought
forward before, with no small ostentation, and with very little of
necessity, or perhaps of propriety. What mode or what time of discussing
the conduct of the French faction in England would not equally tend to
kindle this enthusiasm, and afford those occasions for panegyric, which,
far from shunning, Mr. Fox has always industriously sought? He himself
said, very truly, in the debate, that no artifices were necessary to
draw from him his opinions upon that subject. But to fall upon Mr. Burke
for making an use, at worst not more irregular, of the same liberty, is
tantamount to a plain declaration that the topic of Franco is _tabooed_
or forbidden ground to Mr. Burke, and to Mr. Burke alone. But surely
Mr. Fox is not a republican; and what should hinder him, when such a
discussion came on, from clearing himself unequivocally (as his friends
say he had done near a fortnight before) of all such imputations?
Instead of being a disadvantage to him, he would have defeated all his
enemies, and Mr. Burke, since he has thought proper to reckon him
amongst them.

But it seems some newspaper or other had imputed to him republican
principles, on occasion of his conduct upon the Quebec Bill. Supposing
Mr. Burke to have seen these newspapers, (which is to suppose more than
I believe to be true,) I would ask, When did the newspapers forbear to
charge Mr Fox, or Mr. Burke himself, with republican principles, or any
other principles which they thought could render both of them odious,
sometimes to one description of people, sometimes to another? Mr. Burke,
since the publication of his pamphlet, has been a thousand times charged
in the newspapers with holding despotic principles. He could not enjoy
one moment of domestic quiet, he could not perform the least particle of
public duty, if he did not altogether disregard the language of those
libels. But, however his sensibility might be affected by such abuse, it
would in _him_ have been thought a most ridiculous reason for shutting
up the mouths of Mr. Fox or Mr. Sheridan, so as to prevent their
delivering their sentiments of the French Revolution, that, forsooth,
"the newspapers had lately charged Mr. Burke with being an enemy to
liberty."

I allow that those gentlemen have privileges to which Mr. Burke has no
claim. But their friends ought to plead those privileges, and not to
assign bad reasons, on the principle of what is fair between man and
man, and thereby to put themselves on a level with those who can so
easily refute them. Let them say at once that his reputation is of no
value, and that he has no call to assert it,--but that theirs is of
infinite concern to the party and the public, and to that consideration
he ought to sacrifice all his opinions and all his feelings.

In that language I should hear a style correspondent to the
proceeding,--lofty, indeed, but plain and consistent. Admit, however,
for a moment, and merely for argument, that this gentleman had as good a
right to continue as they had to begin these discussions; in candor and
equity they must allow that their voluntary descant in praise of the
French Constitution was as much an oblique attack on Mr. Burke as Mr.
Burke's inquiry into the foundation of this encomium could possibly be
construed into an imputation upon them. They well knew that he felt like
other men; and of course he would think it mean and unworthy to decline
asserting in his place, and in the front of able adversaries, the
principles of what he had penned in his closet and without an opponent
before him. They could not but be convinced that declamations of this
kind would rouse him,--that he must think, coming from men of their
calibre, they were highly mischievous,--that they gave countenance to
bad men and bad designs; and though he was aware that the handling such
matters in Parliament was delicate, yet he was a man very likely,
whenever, much against his will, they were brought there, to resolve
that there they should be thoroughly sifted. Mr. Fox, early in the
preceding session, had public notice from Mr. Burke of the light in
which he considered every attempt to introduce the example of France
into the politics of this country, and of his resolution to break with
his host friends and to join with his worst enemies to prevent it. He
hoped that no such necessity would ever exist; but in case it should,
his determination was made. The party knew perfectly that he would at
least defend himself. He never intended to attack Mr. Fox, nor did he
attack him directly or indirectly. His speech kept to its matter. No
personality was employed, even in the remotest allusion. He never did
impute to that gentleman any republican principles, or any other bad
principles or bad conduct whatsoever. It was far from his words; it was
far from his heart. It must be remembered, that, notwithstanding the
attempt of Mr. Fox to fix on Mr. Burke an unjustifiable change of
opinion, and the foul crime of teaching a set of maxims to a boy, and
afterwards, when these maxims became adult in his mature age, of
abandoning both the disciple and the doctrine, Mr. Burke never
attempted, in any one particular, either to criminate or to recriminate.
It may be said that he had nothing of the kind in his power. This he
does not controvert. He certainly had it not in his inclination. That
gentleman had as little ground for the charges which he was so easily
provoked to make upon him.

The gentlemen of the party (I include Mr. Fox) have been kind enough to
consider the dispute brought on by this business, and the consequent
separation of Mr. Burke from their corps, as a matter of regret and
uneasiness. I cannot be of opinion that by his exclusion they have had
any loss at all. A man whose opinions are so very adverse to theirs,
adverse, as it was expressed, "as pole to pole," so mischievously as
well as so directly adverse that they found themselves under the
necessity of solemnly disclaiming them in full Parliament,--such a man
must ever be to them a most unseemly and unprofitable incumbrance. A
coöperation with him could only serve to embarrass them in all their
councils. They have besides publicly represented him as a man capable of
abusing the docility and confidence of ingenuous youth,--and, for a bad
reason or for no reason, of disgracing his whole public life by a
scandalous contradiction of every one of his own acts, writings, and
declarations. If these charges be true, their exclusion of such a person
from their body is a circumstance which does equal honor to their
justice and their prudence. If they express a degree of sensibility in
being obliged to execute this wise and just sentence, from a
consideration of some amiable or some pleasant qualities which in his
private life their former friend may happen to possess, they add to the
praise of their wisdom and firmness the merit of great tenderness of
heart and humanity of disposition.

On their ideas, the new Whig party have, in my opinion, acted as became
them. The author of the Reflections, however, on his part, cannot,
without great shame to himself, and without entailing everlasting
disgrace on his posterity, admit the truth or justice of the charges
which have been made upon him, or allow that he has in those Reflections
discovered any principles to which honest men are bound to declare, not
a shade or two of dissent, but a total, fundamental opposition. He must
believe, if he does not mean wilfully to abandon his cause and his
reputation, that principles fundamentally at variance with those of his
book are fundamentally false. What those principles, the antipodes to
his, really are, he can only discover from their contrariety. He is very
unwilling to suppose that the doctrines of some books lately circulated
are the principles of the party; though, from the vehement declarations
against his opinions, he is at some loss how to judge otherwise.

For the present, my plan does not render it necessary to say anything
further concerning the merits either of the one set of opinions or the
other. The author would have discussed the merits of both in his place,
but he was not permitted to do so.

       *       *       *       *       *

I pass to the next head of charge,--Mr. Burke's inconsistency. It is
certainly a great aggravation of his fault in embracing false opinions,
that in doing so he is not supposed to fill up a void, but that he is
guilty of a dereliction of opinions that are true and laudable. This is
the great gist of the charge against him. It is not so much that he is
wrong in his book (that, however, is alleged also) as that he has
therein belied his whole life. I believe, if he could venture to value
himself upon anything, it is on the virtue of consistency that he would
value himself the most. Strip him of this, and you leave him naked
indeed.

In the case of any man who had written something, and spoken a great
deal, upon very multifarious matter, during upwards of twenty-five
years' public service, and in as great a variety of important events as
perhaps have ever happened in the same number of years, it would appear
a little hard, in order to charge such a man with inconsistency, to see
collected by his friend a sort of digest of his sayings, even to such
as were merely sportive and jocular. This digest, however, has been
made, with equal pains and partiality, and without bringing out those
passages of his writings which might tend to show with what restrictions
any expressions quoted from him ought to have been understood. From a
great statesman he did not quite expect this mode of inquisition. If it
only appeared in the works of common pamphleteers, Mr. Burke might
safely trust to his reputation. When thus urged, he ought, perhaps, to
do a little more. It shall be as little as possible; for I hope not much
is wanting. To be totally silent on his charges would not be respectful
to Mr. Fox. Accusations sometimes derive a weight from the persons who
make them to which they are not entitled from their matter.

He who thinks that the British Constitution ought to consist of the
three members, of three very different natures, of which it does
actually consist, and thinks it his duty to preserve each of those
members in its proper place and with its proper proportion of power,
must (as each shall happen to be attacked) vindicate the three several
parts on the several principles peculiarly belonging to them. He cannot
assert the democratic part on the principles on which monarchy is
supported, nor can he support monarchy on the principles of democracy,
nor can he maintain aristocracy on the grounds of the one or of the
other or of both. All these he must support on grounds that are totally
different, though practically they may be, and happily with us they are,
brought into one harmonious body. A man could not be consistent in
defending such various, and, at first view, discordant, parts of a
mixed Constitution, without that sort of inconsistency with which Mr.
Burke stands charged.

As any one of the great members of this Constitution happens to be
endangered, he that is a friend to all of them chooses and presses the
topics necessary for the support of the part attacked, with all the
strength, the earnestness, the vehemence, with all the power of stating,
of argument, and of coloring, which he happens to possess, and which the
case demands. He is not to embarrass the minds of his hearers, or to
incumber or overlay his speech, by bringing into view at once (as if he
were reading an academic lecture) all that may and ought, when a just
occasion presents itself, to be said in favor of the other members. At
that time they are out of the court; there is no question concerning
them. Whilst he opposes his defence on the part where the attack is
made, he presumes that for his regard to the just rights of all the rest
he has credit in every candid mind. He ought not to apprehend that his
raising fences about popular privileges this day will infer that he
ought on the next to concur with those who would pull down the throne;
because on the next he defends the throne, it ought not to be supposed
that he has abandoned the rights of the people.

A man, who, among various objects of his equal regard, is secure of
some, and full of anxiety for the fate of others, is apt to go to much
greater lengths in his preference of the objects of his immediate
solicitude than Mr. Burke has ever done. A man so circumstanced often
seems to undervalue, to vilify, almost to reprobate and disown, those
that are out of danger. This is the voice of Nature and truth, and not
of inconsistency and false pretence. The danger of anything very dear
to us removes, for the moment, every other affection from the mind. When
Priam had his whole thoughts employed on the body of his Hector, he
repels with indignation, and drives from him with a thousand reproaches,
his surviving sons, who with an officious piety crowded about him to
offer their assistance. A good critic (there is no better than Mr. Fox)
would say that this is a masterstroke, and marks a deep understanding of
Nature in the father of poetry. He would despise a Zoïlus who would
conclude from this passage that Homer meant to represent this man of
affliction as hating or being indifferent and cold in his affections to
the poor relics of his house, or that he preferred a dead carcass to his
living children.

Mr. Burke does not stand in need of an allowance of this kind, which, if
he did, by candid critics ought to be granted to him. If the principles
of a mixed Constitution be admitted, he wants no more to justify to
consistency everything he has said and done during the course of a
political life just touching to its close. I believe that gentleman has
kept himself more clear of running into the fashion of wild, visionary
theories, or of seeking popularity through every means, than any man
perhaps ever did in the same situation.

He was the first man who, on the hustings, at a popular election,
rejected the authority of instructions from constituents,--or who, in
any place, has argued so fully against it. Perhaps the discredit into
which that doctrine of compulsive instructions under our Constitution is
since fallen may be due in a great degree to his opposing himself to it
in that manner and on that occasion.

The reforms in representation, and the bills for shortening the duration
of Parliaments, he uniformly and steadily opposed for many years
together, in contradiction to many of his best friends. These friends,
however, in his better days, when they had more to hope from his service
and more to fear from his loss than now they have, never chose to find
any inconsistency between his acts and expressions in favor of liberty
and his votes on those questions. But there is a time for all things.

Against the opinion of many friends, even against the solicitation of
some of them, he opposed those of the Church clergy who had petitioned
the House of Commons to be discharged from the subscription. Although he
supported the Dissenters in their petition for the indulgence which he
had refused to the clergy of the Established Church, in this, as he was
not guilty of it, so he was not reproached with inconsistency. At the
same time he promoted, and against the wish of several, the clause that
gave the Dissenting teachers another subscription in the place of that
which was then taken away. Neither at that time was the reproach of
inconsistency brought against him. People could then distinguish between
a difference in conduct under a variation of circumstances and an
inconsistency in principle. It was not then thought necessary to be
freed of him as of an incumbrance.

These instances, a few among many, are produced as an answer to the
insinuation of his having pursued high popular courses which in his late
book he has abandoned. Perhaps in his whole life he has never omitted a
fair occasion, with whatever risk to him of obloquy as an individual,
with whatever detriment to his interest as a member of opposition, to
assert the very same doctrines which appear in that book. He told the
House, upon an important occasion, and pretty early in his service,
that, "being warned by the ill effect of a contrary procedure in great
examples, he had taken his ideas of liberty very low in order that they
should stick to him and that he might stick to them to the end of his
life."

At popular elections the most rigorous casuists will remit a little of
their severity. They will allow to a candidate some unqualified
effusions in favor of freedom, without binding him to adhere to them in
their utmost extent. But Mr. Burke put a more strict rule upon himself
than most moralists would put upon others. At his first offering himself
to Bristol, where he was almost sure he should not obtain, on that or
any occasion, a single Tory vote, (in fact, he did obtain but one,) and
rested wholly on the Whig interest, he thought himself bound to tell to
the electors, both before and after his election, exactly what a
representative they had to expect in him.

"The _distinguishing_ part of our Constitution," he said, "is its
liberty. To preserve that liberty inviolate is the _peculiar_ duty and
_proper_ trust of a member of the House of Commons. But the liberty, the
_only_ liberty, I mean is a liberty connected with _order;_ and that not
only exists _with_ order and virtue, but cannot exist at all _without_
them. It inheres in good and steady government, as in _its substance and
vital principle_."

The liberty to which Mr. Burke declared himself attached is not French
liberty. That liberty is nothing but the rein given to vice and
confusion. Mr. Burke was then, as he was at the writing of his
Reflections, awfully impressed with the difficulties arising from the
complex state of our Constitution and our empire, and that it might
require in different emergencies different sorts of exertions, and the
successive call upon all the various principles which uphold and justify
it. This will appear from what he said at the close of the poll.

"To be a good member of Parliament is, let me tell you, no easy
task,--especially at this time, when there is so strong a disposition to
run into the perilous extremes of _servile_ compliance or _wild
popularity_. To unite circumspection with vigor is absolutely necessary,
but it is extremely difficult. We are now members for a rich commercial
_city_; this city, however, is but a part of a rich commercial _nation_,
the interests of which are _various, multiform, and intricate_. We are
members for that great _nation_, which, however, is itself but part of a
great _empire_, extended by our virtue and our fortune to the farthest
limits of the East and of the West. _All_ these wide-spread interests
must be _considered_,--must be _compared_,--must be _reconciled_, if
possible. We are members for a _free_ country; and surely we all know
that the machine of a free constitution is no _simple_ thing, but as
_intricate_ and as _delicate_ as it is valuable. We are members in a
_great and ancient_ MONARCHY_; and we must preserve religiously the
true, legal rights of the sovereign, which form the key-stone that binds
together the noble and well-constructed arch of our empire and our
Constitution_. A constitution made up of _balanced powers_ must ever be
a critical thing. As such I mean to touch that part of it which comes
within my reach."

In this manner Mr. Burke spoke to his constituents seventeen years ago.
He spoke, not like a partisan of one particular member of our
Constitution, but as a person strongly, and on principle, attached to
them all. He thought these great and essential members ought to be
preserved, and preserved each in its place,--and that the monarchy ought
not only to be secured in its peculiar existence, but in its preeminence
too, as the presiding and connecting principle of the whole. Let it be
considered whether the language of his book, printed in 1790, differs
from his speech at Bristol in 1774.

With equal justice his opinions on the American war are introduced, as
if in his late work he had belied his conduct and opinions in the
debates which arose upon that great event. On the American war he never
had any opinions which he has seen occasion to retract, or which he has
ever retracted. He, indeed, differs essentially from Mr. Fox as to the
cause of that war. Mr. Fox has been pleased to say that the Americans
rebelled "because they thought they had not enjoyed liberty enough."
This cause of the war, _from him_, I have heard of for the first time.
It is true that those who stimulated the nation to that measure did
frequently urge this topic. They contended that the Americans had from
the beginning aimed at independence,--that from the beginning they meant
wholly to throw off the authority of the crown, and to break their
connection with the parent country. This Mr. Burke never believed. When
he moved his second conciliatory proposition, in the year 1776, he
entered into the discussion of this point at very great length, and,
from nine several heads of presumption, endeavored to prove the charge
upon that people not to be true.

If the principles of all he has said and wrote on the occasion be viewed
with common temper, the gentlemen of the party will perceive, that, on a
supposition that the Americans had rebelled merely in order to enlarge
their liberty, Mr. Burke would have thought very differently of the
American cause. What might have been in the secret thoughts of some of
their leaders it is impossible to say. As far as a man so locked up as
Dr. Franklin could be expected to communicate his ideas, I believe he
opened them to Mr. Burke. It was, I think, the very day before he set
out for America that a very long conversation passed between them, and
with a greater air of openness on the Doctor's side than Mr. Burke had
observed in him before. In this discourse Dr. Franklin lamented, and
with apparent sincerity, the separation which he feared was inevitable
between Great Britain and her colonies. He certainly spoke of it as an
event which gave him the greatest concern. America, he said, would never
again see such happy days as she had passed under the protection of
England. He observed, that ours was the only instance of a great empire
in which the most distant parts and members had been as well governed as
the metropolis and its vicinage, but that the Americans were going to
lose the means which secured to them this rare and precious advantage.
The question with them was not, whether they were to remain as they had
been before the troubles,--for better, he allowed, they could not hope
to be,--but whether they were to give up so happy a situation without a
struggle. Mr. Burke had several other conversations with him about that
time, in none of which, soured and exasperated as his mind certainly
was, did he discover any other wish in favor of America than for a
security to its _ancient_ condition. Mr. Burke's conversation with other
Americans was large, indeed, and his inquiries extensive and diligent.
Trusting to the result of all these means of information, but trusting
much more in the public presumptive indications I have just referred to,
and to the reiterated solemn declarations of their Assemblies, he always
firmly believed that they were purely on the defensive in that
rebellion. He considered the Americans as standing at that time, and in
that controversy, in the same relation to England as England did to King
James the Second in 1688. He believed that they had taken up arms from
one motive only: that is, our attempting to tax them without their
consent,--to tax them for the purposes of maintaining civil and military
establishments. If this attempt of ours could have been practically
established, he thought, with them, that their Assemblies would become
totally useless,--that, under the system of policy which was then
pursued, the Americans could have no sort of security for their laws or
liberties, or for any part of them,--and that the very circumstance of
_our_ freedom would have augmented the weight of _their_ slavery.

Considering the Americans on that defensive footing, he thought Great
Britain ought instantly to have closed with them by the repeal of the
taxing act. He was of opinion that our general rights over that country
would have been preserved by this timely concession.[9] When, instead of
this, a Boston Port Bill, a Massachusetts Charter Bill, a Fishery Bill,
an Intercourse Bill, I know not how many hostile bills, rushed out like
so many tempests from all points of the compass, and were accompanied
first with great fleets and armies of English, and followed afterwards
with great bodies of foreign troops, he thought that their cause grew
daily better, because daily more defensive,--and that ours, because
daily more offensive, grew daily worse. He therefore, in two motions, in
two successive years, proposed in Parliament many concessions beyond
what he had reason to think in the beginning of the troubles would ever
be seriously demanded.

So circumstanced, he certainly never could and never did wish the
colonists to be subdued by arms. He was fully persuaded, that, if such
should be the event, they must be held in that subdued state by a great
body of standing forces, and perhaps of foreign forces. He was strongly
of opinion that such armies, first victorious over Englishmen, in a
conflict for English constitutional rights and privileges, and
afterwards habituated (though in America) to keep an English people in a
state of abject subjection, would prove fatal in the end to the
liberties of England itself; that in the mean time this military system
would lie as an oppressive burden upon the national finances; that it
would constantly breed and feed new discussions, full of heat and
acrimony, leading possibly to a new series of wars; and that foreign
powers, whilst we continued in a state at once burdened and distracted,
must at length obtain a decided superiority over us. On what part of his
late publication, or on what expression that might have escaped him in
that work, is any man authorized to charge Mr. Burke with a
contradiction to the line of his conduct and to the current of his
doctrines on the American war? The pamphlet is in the hands of his
accusers: let them point out the passage, if they can.

Indeed, the author has been well sifted and scrutinized by his friends.
He is even called to an account for every jocular and light expression.
A ludicrous picture which he made with regard to a passage in the speech
of a late minister[10] has been brought up against him. That passage
contained a lamentation for the loss of monarchy to the Americans, after
they had separated from Great Britain. He thought it to be unseasonable,
ill-judged, and ill-sorted with the circumstances of all the parties.
Mr. Burke, it seems, considered it ridiculous to lament the loss of some
monarch or other to a rebel people, at the moment they had forever
quitted their allegiance to theirs and our sovereign, at the time when
they had broken off all connection with this nation and had allied
themselves with its enemies. He certainly must have thought it open to
ridicule; and now that it is recalled to his memory, (he had, I believe,
wholly forgotten the circumstance,) he recollects that he did treat it
with some levity. But is it a fair inference from a jest on this
unseasonable lamentation, that he was then an enemy to monarchy, either
in this or in any other country? The contrary perhaps ought to be
inferred,--if anything at all can be argued from pleasantries good or
bad. Is it for this reason, or for anything he has said or done relative
to the American war, that he is to enter into an alliance offensive and
defensive with every rebellion, in every country, under every
circumstance, and raised upon whatever pretence? Is it because he did
not wish the Americans to be subdued by arms, that he must be
inconsistent with himself, if he reprobates the conduct of those
societies in England, who, alleging no one act of tyranny or oppression,
and complaining of no hostile attempt against our ancient laws, rights,
and usages, are now endeavoring to work the destruction of the crown of
this kingdom, and the whole of its Constitution? Is he obliged, from the
concessions he wished to be made to the colonies, to keep any terms with
those clubs and federations who hold out to us, as a pattern for
imitation, the proceedings in France, in which a king, who had
voluntarily and formally divested himself of the right of taxation, and
of all other species of arbitrary power, has been dethroned? Is it
because Mr. Burke wished to have America rather conciliated than
vanquished, that he must wish well to the army of republics which are
set up in France,--a country wherein not the people, but the monarch,
was wholly on the defensive, (a poor, indeed, and feeble defensive,) to
preserve _some fragments_ of the royal authority against a determined
and desperate body of conspirators, whose object it was, with whatever
certainty of crimes, with whatever hazard of war, and every other
species of calamity, to annihilate the _whole_ of that authority, to
level all ranks, orders, and distinctions in the state, and utterly to
destroy property, not more by their acts than in their principles?

Mr. Burke has been also reproached with an inconsistency between his
late writings and his former conduct, because he had proposed in
Parliament several economical, leading to several constitutional
reforms. Mr. Burke thought, with a majority of the House of Commons,
that the influence of the crown at one time was too great; but after his
Majesty had, by a gracious message, and several subsequent acts of
Parliament, reduced it to a standard which satisfied Mr. Fox himself,
and, apparently at least, contented whoever wished to go farthest in
that reduction, is Mr. Burke to allow that it would be right for us to
proceed to indefinite lengths upon that subject? that it would therefore
be justifiable in a people owing allegiance to a monarchy, and
professing to maintain it, not to _reduce_, but wholly to _take away
all_ prerogative and _all_ influence whatsoever? Must his having made,
in virtue of a plan of economical regulation, a reduction of the
influence of the crown compel him to allow that it would be right in the
French or in us to bring a king to so abject a state as in function not
to be so respectable as an under-sheriff, but in person not to differ
from the condition of a mere prisoner? One would think that such a thing
as a medium had never been heard of in the moral world.

This mode of arguing from your having done _any_ thing in a certain line
to the necessity of doing _every_ thing has political consequences of
other moment than those of a logical fallacy. If no man can propose any
diminution or modification of an invidious or dangerous power or
influence in government, without entitling friends turned into
adversaries to argue him into the destruction of all prerogative, and to
a spoliation of the whole patronage of royalty, I do not know what can
more effectually deter persons of sober minds from engaging in any
reform, nor how the worst enemies to the liberty of the subject could
contrive any method more fit to bring all correctives on the power of
the crown into suspicion and disrepute.

If, say his accusers, the dread of too great influence in the crown of
Great Britain could justify the degree of reform which he adopted, the
dread of a return under the despotism of a monarchy might justify the
people of France in going much further, and reducing monarchy to its
present nothing.--Mr. Burke does not allow that a sufficient argument
_ad hominem_ is inferable from these premises. If the horror of the
excesses of an absolute monarchy furnishes a reason for abolishing it,
no monarchy once absolute (all have been so at one period or other)
could ever be limited. It must be destroyed; otherwise no way could be
found to quiet the fears of those who were formerly subjected to that
sway. But the principle of Mr. Burke's proceeding ought to lead him to a
very different conclusion,--to this conclusion,--that a monarchy is a
thing perfectly susceptible of reform, perfectly susceptible of a
balance of power, and that, when reformed and balanced, for a great
country it is the best of all governments. The example of our country
might have led France, as it has led him, to perceive that monarchy is
not only reconcilable to liberty, but that it may be rendered a great
and stable security to its perpetual enjoyment. No correctives which he
proposed to the power of the crown could lead him to approve of a plan
of a republic (if so it may be reputed) which has no correctives, and
which he believes to be incapable of admitting any. No principle of Mr.
Burke's conduct or writings obliged him from consistency to become an
advocate for an exchange of mischiefs; no principle of his could compel
him to justify the setting up in the place of a mitigated monarchy a new
and far more despotic power, under which there is no trace of liberty,
except what appears in confusion and in crime.

Mr. Burke does not admit that the faction predominant in France have
abolished their monarchy, and the orders of their state, from any dread
of arbitrary power that lay heavy on the minds of the people. It is not
very long since he has been in that country. Whilst there he conversed
with many descriptions of its inhabitants. A few persons of rank did, he
allows, discover strong and manifest tokens of such a spirit of liberty
as might be expected one day to break all bounds. Such gentlemen have
since had more reason to repent of their want of foresight than I hope
any of the same class will ever have in this country. But this spirit
was far from general, even amongst the gentlemen. As to the lower
orders, and those little above them, in whose name the present powers
domineer, they were far from discovering any sort of dissatisfaction
with the power and prerogatives of the crown. That vain people were
rather proud of them: they rather despised the English for not having a
monarch possessed of such high and perfect authority. _They_ had felt
nothing from _lettres de cachet_. The Bastile could inspire no horrors
into _them_. This was a treat for their betters. It was by art and
impulse, it was by the sinister use made of a season of scarcity, it was
under an infinitely diversified succession of wicked pretences wholly
foreign to the question of monarchy or aristocracy, that this light
people were inspired with their present spirit of levelling. Their old
vanity was led by art to take another turn: it was dazzled and seduced
by military liveries, cockades, and epaulets, until the French populace
was led to become the willing, but still the proud and thoughtless,
instrument and victim of another domination. Neither did that people
despise or hate or fear their nobility: on the contrary, they valued
themselves on the generous qualities which distinguished the chiefs of
their nation.

So far as to the attack on Mr. Burke in consequence of his reforms.

To show that he has in his last publication abandoned those principles
of liberty which have given energy to his youth, and in spite of his
censors will afford repose and consolation to his declining age, those
who have thought proper in Parliament to declare against his book ought
to have produced something in it which directly or indirectly militates
with any rational plan of free government. It is something
extraordinary, that they whose memories have so well served them with
regard to light and ludicrous expressions, which years had consigned to
oblivion, should not have been able to quote a single passage in a piece
so lately published, which contradicts anything he has formerly ever
said in a style either ludicrous or serious. They quote his former
speeches and his former votes, but not one syllable from the book. It is
only by a collation of the one with the other that the alleged
inconsistency can be established. But as they are unable to cite any
such contradictory passage, so neither can they show anything in the
general tendency and spirit of the whole work unfavorable to a rational
and generous spirit of liberty; unless a warm opposition to the spirit
of levelling, to the spirit of impiety, to the spirit of proscription,
plunder, murder, and cannibalism, be adverse to the true principles of
freedom.

The author of that book is supposed to have passed from extreme to
extreme; but he has always kept himself in a medium. This charge is not
so wonderful. It is in the nature of things, that they who are in the
centre of a circle should appear directly opposed to those who view them
from any part of the circumference. In that middle point, however, he
will still remain, though he may hear people who themselves run beyond
Aurora and the Ganges cry out that he is at the extremity of the West.

In the same debate Mr. Burke was represented by Mr. Fox as arguing in a
manner which implied that the British Constitution could not be
defended, but by abusing all republics ancient and modern. He said
nothing to give the least ground for such a censure. He never abused all
republics. He has never professed himself a friend or an enemy to
republics or to monarchies in the abstract. He thought that the
circumstances and habits of every country, which it is always perilous
and productive of the greatest calamities to force, are to decide upon
the form of its government. There is nothing in his nature, his temper,
or his faculties which should make him an enemy to any republic, modern
or ancient. Far from it. He has studied the form and spirit of republics
very early in life; he has studied them with great attention, and with a
mind undisturbed by affection or prejudice. He is, indeed, convinced
that the science of government would be poorly cultivated without that
study. But the result in his mind from that investigation has been and
is, that neither England nor France, without infinite detriment to them,
as well in the event as in the experiment, could be brought into a
republican form; but that everything republican which can be introduced
with safety into either of them must be built upon a monarchy,--built
upon a real, not a nominal monarchy, _as its essential basis_; that all
such institutions, whether aristocratic or democratic, must originate
from their crown, and in all their proceedings must refer to it; that by
the energy of that mainspring alone those republican parts must be set
in action, and from thence must derive their whole legal effect, (as
amongst us they actually do,) or the whole will fall into confusion.
These republican members have no other point but the crown in which they
can possibly unite.

This is the opinion expressed in Mr. Burke's book. He has never varied
in that opinion since he came to years of discretion. But surely, if at
any time of his life he had entertained other notions, (which, however,
he has never held or professed to hold,) the horrible calamities brought
upon a great people by the wild attempt to force their country into a
republic might be more than sufficient to undeceive his understanding,
and to free it forever from such destructive fancies. He is certain that
many, even in France, have been made sick of their theories by their
very success in realizing them.

To fortify the imputation of a desertion from his principles, his
constant attempts to reform abuses have been brought forward. It is
true, it has been the business of his strength to reform abuses in
government, and his last feeble efforts are employed in a struggle
against them. Politically he has lived in that element; politically he
will die in it. Before he departs, I will admit for him that he deserves
to have all his titles of merit brought forth, as they have been, for
grounds of condemnation, if one word justifying or supporting abuses of
any sort is to be found in that book which has kindled so much
indignation in the mind of a great man. On the contrary, it spares no
existing abuse. Its very purpose is to make war with abuses,--not,
indeed, to make war with the dead, but with those which live, and
flourish, and reign.

The _purpose_ for which the abuses of government are brought into view
forms a very material consideration in the mode of treating them. The
complaints of a friend are things very different from the invectives of
an enemy. The charge of abuses on the late monarchy of France was not
intended to lead to its reformation, but to justify its destruction.
They who have raked into all history for the faults of kings, and who
have aggravated every fault they have found, have acted consistently,
because they acted as enemies. No man can be a friend to a tempered
monarchy who bears a decided hatred to monarchy itself. He, who, at the
present time, is favorable or even fair to that system, must act towards
it as towards a friend with frailties who is under the prosecution of
implacable foes. I think it a duty, in that case, not to inflame the
public mind against the obnoxious person by any exaggeration of his
faults. It is our duty rather to palliate his errors and defects, or to
cast them into the shade, and industriously to bring forward any good
qualities that he may happen to possess. But when the man is to be
amended, and by amendment to be preserved, then the line of duty takes
another direction. When his safety is effectually provided for, it then
becomes the office of a friend to urge his faults and vices with all the
energy of enlightened affection, to paint them in their most vivid
colors, and to bring the moral patient to a better habit. Thus I think
with regard to individuals; thus I think with regard to ancient and
respected governments and orders of men. A spirit of reformation is
never more consistent with itself than when it refuses to be rendered
the means of destruction.

I suppose that enough is said upon these heads of accusation. One more I
had nearly forgotten, but I shall soon dispatch it. The author of the
Reflections, in the opening of the last Parliament, entered on the
journals of the House of Commons a motion for a remonstrance to the
crown, which is substantially a defence of the preceding Parliament,
that had been dissolved under displeasure. It is a defence of Mr. Fox.
It is a defence of the Whigs. By what connection of argument, by what
association of ideas, this apology for Mr. Fox and his party is by him
and them brought to criminate his and their apologist, I cannot easily
divine. It is true that Mr. Burke received no previous encouragement
from Mr. Fox, nor any the least countenance or support, at the time when
the motion was made, from him or from any gentleman of the party,--one
only excepted, from whose friendship, on that and on other occasions, he
derives an honor to which he must be dull indeed to be insensible.[11]
If that remonstrance, therefore, was a false or feeble defence of the
measures of the party, they were in no wise affected by it. It stands on
the journals. This secures to it a permanence which the author cannot
expect to any other work of his. Let it speak for itself to the present
age and to all posterity. The party had no concern in it; and it can
never be quoted against them. But in the late debate it was produced,
not to clear the party from an improper defence in which they had no
share, but for the kind purpose of insinuating an inconsistency between
the principles of Mr. Burke's defence of the dissolved Parliament and
those on which he proceeded in his late Reflections on France.

It requires great ingenuity to make out such a parallel between the two
cases as to found a charge of inconsistency in the principles assumed in
arguing the one and the other. What relation had Mr. Fox's India Bill to
the Constitution of France? What relation had that Constitution to the
question of right in an House of Commons to give or to withhold its
confidence from ministers, and to state that opinion to the crown? What
had this discussion to do with Mr. Burke's idea in 1784 of the ill
consequences which must in the end arise to the crown from setting up
the commons at large as an opposite interest to the commons in
Parliament? What has this discussion to do with a recorded warning to
the people of their rashly forming a precipitate judgment against their
representatives? What had Mr. Burke's opinion of the danger of
introducing new theoretic language, unknown to the records of the
kingdom, and calculated to excite vexatious questions, into a
Parliamentary proceeding, to do with the French Assembly, which defies
all precedent, and places its whole glory in realizing what had been
thought the most visionary theories? What had this in common with the
abolition of the French monarchy, or with the principles upon which the
English Revolution was justified,--a Revolution in which Parliament, in
all its acts and all its declarations, religiously adheres to "the form
of sound words," without excluding from private discussions such terms
of art as may serve to conduct an inquiry for which none but private
persons are responsible? These were the topics of Mr. Burke's proposed
remonstrance; all of which topics suppose the existence and mutual
relation of our three estates,--as well as the relation of the East
India Company to the crown, to Parliament, and to the peculiar laws,
rights, and usages of the people of Hindostan. What reference, I say,
had these topics to the Constitution of France, in which there is no
king, no lords, no commons, no India Company to injure or support, no
Indian empire to govern or oppress? What relation had all or any of
these, or any question which could arise between the prerogatives of the
crown and the privileges of Parliament, with the censure of those
factious persons in Great Britain whom Mr. Burke states to be engaged,
not in favor of privilege against prerogative, or of prerogative against
privilege, but in an open attempt against our crown and our Parliament,
against our Constitution in Church and State, against all the parts and
orders which compose the one and the other?

No persons were more fiercely active against Mr. Fox, and against the
measures of the House of Commons dissolved in 1784, which Mr. Burke
defends in that remonstrance, than several of those revolution-makers
whom Mr. Burke condemns alike in his remonstrance and in his book. These
revolutionists, indeed, may be well thought to vary in their conduct. He
is, however, far from accusing them, in this variation, of the smallest
degree of inconsistency. He is persuaded that they are totally
indifferent at which end they begin the demolition of the Constitution.
Some are for commencing their operations with the destruction of the
civil powers, in order the better to pull down the ecclesiastical,--some
wish to begin with the ecclesiastical, in order to facilitate the ruin
of the civil; some would destroy the House of Commons through the crown,
some the crown through the House of Commons, and some would overturn
both the one and the other through what they call the people. But I
believe that this injured writer will think it not at all inconsistent
with his present duty or with his former life strenuously to oppose all
the various partisans of destruction, let them begin where or when or
how they will. No man would set his face more determinedly against those
who should attempt to deprive them, or any description of men, of the
rights they possess. No man would be more steady in preventing them from
abusing those rights to the destruction of that happy order under which
they enjoy them. As to their title to anything further, it ought to be
grounded on the proof they give of the safety with which power may be
trusted in their hands. When they attempt without disguise, not to win
it from our affections, but to force it from our fears, they show, in
the character of their means of obtaining it, the use they would make of
their dominion. That writer is too well read in men not to know how
often the desire and design of a tyrannic domination lurks in the claim
of an extravagant liberty. Perhaps in the beginning it _always_ displays
itself in that manner. No man has ever affected power which he did not
hope from the favor of the existing government in any other mode.

       *       *       *       *       *

The attacks on the author's consistency relative to France are (however
grievous they may be to his feelings) in a great degree external to him
and to us, and comparatively of little moment to the people of England.
The substantial charge upon him is concerning his doctrines relative to
the Revolution of 1688. Here it is that they who speak in the name of
the party have thought proper to censure him the most loudly and with
the greatest asperity. Here they fasten, and, if they are right in their
fact, with sufficient judgment in their selection. If he be guilty in
this point, he is equally blamable, whether he is consistent or not. If
he endeavors to delude his countrymen by a false representation of the
spirit of that leading event, and of the true nature and tenure of the
government formed in consequence of it, he is deeply responsible, he is
an enemy to the free Constitution of the kingdom. But he is not guilty
in any sense. I maintain that in his Reflections he has stated the
Revolution and the Settlement upon their true principles of legal reason
and constitutional policy.

His authorities are the acts and declarations of Parliament, given in
their proper words. So far as these go, nothing can be added to what he
has quoted. The question is, whether he has understood them rightly. I
think they speak plain enough. But we must now see whether he proceeds
with other authority than his own constructions, and, if he does, on
what sort of authority he proceeds. In this part, his defence will not
be made by argument, but by wager of law. He takes his compurgators, his
vouchers, his guaranties, along with him. I know that he will not be
satisfied with a justification proceeding on general reasons of policy.
He must be defended on party grounds, too, or his cause is not so
tenable as I wish it to appear. It must be made out for him not only
that in his construction of these public acts and monuments he conforms
himself to the rules of fair, legal, and logical interpretation, but it
must be proved that his construction is in perfect harmony with that of
the ancient Whigs, to whom, against the sentence of the modern, on his
part, I here appeal.

This July it will be twenty-six years[12] since he became connected with
a man whose memory will ever be precious to Englishmen of all parties,
as long as the ideas of honor and virtue, public and private, are
understood and cherished in this nation. That memory will be kept alive
with particular veneration by all rational and honorable Whigs. Mr.
Burke entered into a connection with that party through that man, at an
age far from raw and immature,--at those years when men are all they are
ever likely to become,--when he was in the prime and vigor of his
life,--when the powers of his understanding, according to their
standard, were at the best, his memory exercised, his judgment formed,
and his reading much fresher in the recollection and much readier in the
application than now it is. He was at that time as likely as most men to
know what were Whig and what were Tory principles. He was in a situation
to discern what sort of Whig principles they entertained with whom it
was his wish to form an eternal connection. Foolish he would have been
at that time of life (more foolish than any man who undertakes a public
trust would be thought) to adhere to a cause which he, amongst all those
who were engaged in it, had the least sanguine hopes of as a road to
power.

There are who remember, that, on the removal of the Whigs in the year
1766, he was as free to choose another connection as any man in the
kingdom. To put himself out of the way of the negotiations which were
then carrying on very eagerly and through many channels with the Earl of
Chatham, he went to Ireland very soon after the change of ministry, and
did not return until the meeting of Parliament. He was at that time free
from anything which looked like an engagement. He was further free at
the desire of his friends; for, the very day of his return, the Marquis
of Rockingham wished him to accept an employment under the new system.
He believes he might have had such a situation; but again he cheerfully
took his fate with the party.

It would be a serious imputation upon the prudence of my friend, to have
made even such trivial sacrifices as it was in his power to make for
principles which he did not truly embrace or did not perfectly
understand. In either case the folly would have been great. The question
now is, whether, when he first practically professed Whig principles, he
understood what principles he professed, and whether in his book he has
faithfully expressed them.

When he entered into the Whig party, he did not conceive that they
pretended to any discoveries. They did not affect to be better Whigs
than those were who lived in the days in which principle was put to the
test. Some of the Whigs of those days were then living. They were what
the Whigs had been at the Revolution,--what they had been during the
reign of Queen Anne,--what they had been at the accession of the present
royal family.

What they were at those periods is to be seen. It rarely happens to a
party to have the opportunity of a clear, authentic, recorded
declaration of their political tenets upon the subject of a great
constitutional event like that of the Revolution. The Whigs had that
opportunity,--or to speak more properly, they made it. The impeachment
of Dr. Sacheverell was undertaken by a Whig ministry and a Whig House of
Commons, and carried on before a prevalent and steady majority of Whig
peers. It was carried on for the express purpose of stating the true
grounds and principles of the Revolution,--what the Commons emphatically
called their _foundation_. It was carried on for the purpose of
condemning the principles on which the Revolution was first opposed and
afterwards calumniated, in order, by a juridical sentence of the highest
authority, to confirm and fix Whig principles, as they had operated both
in the resistance to King James and in the subsequent settlement, and to
fix them in the extent and with the limitations with which it was meant
they should be understood by posterity. The ministers and managers for
the Commons were persons who had, many of them, an active share in the
Revolution. Most of them had seen it at an age capable of reflection.
The grand event, and all the discussions which led to it and followed
it, were then alive in the memory and conversation of all men. The
managers for the Commons must be supposed to have spoken on that subject
the prevalent ideas of the leading party in the Commons, and of the Whig
ministry. Undoubtedly they spoke also their own private opinions; and
the private opinions of such men are not without weight. They were not
_umbratiles doctores_, men who had studied a free Constitution only in
its anatomy and upon dead systems. They knew it alive and in action.

In this proceeding the Whig principles, as applied to the Revolution and
Settlement, are to be found, or they are to be found nowhere. I wish the
Whig readers of this Appeal first to turn to Mr. Burke's Reflections,
from page 20 to page 50,[13] and then to attend to the following
extracts from the trial of Dr. Sacheverell. After this, they will
consider two things: first, whether the doctrine in Mr. Burke's
Reflections be consonant to that of the Whigs of that period; and,
secondly, whether they choose to abandon the principles which belonged
to the progenitors of some of them, and to the predecessors of them all,
and to learn new principles of Whiggism, imported from France, and
disseminated in this country from Dissenting pulpits, from Federation
societies, and from the pamphlets, which (as containing the political
creed of those synods) are industriously circulated in all parts of the
two kingdoms. This is their affair, and they will make their option.

These new Whigs hold that the sovereignty, whether exercised by one or
many, did not only originate _from_ the people, (a position not denied
nor worth denying or assenting to,) but that in the people the same
sovereignty constantly and unalienably resides; that the people may
lawfully depose kings, not only for misconduct, but without any
misconduct at all; that they may set up any new fashion of government
for themselves, or continue without any government, at their pleasure;
that the people are essentially their own rule, and their will the
measure of their conduct; that the tenure of magistracy is not a proper
subject of contract, because magistrates have duties, but no rights;
and that, if a contract _de facto_ is made with them in one age,
allowing that it binds at all, it only binds those who are immediately
concerned in it, but does not pass to posterity. These doctrines
concerning _the people_ (a term which they are far from accurately
defining, but by which, from many circumstances, it is plain enough they
mean their own faction, if they should grow, by early arming, by
treachery, or violence, into the prevailing force) tend, in my opinion,
to the utter subversion, not only of all government, in all modes, and
to all stable securities to rational freedom, but to all the rules and
principles of morality itself.

I assert that the ancient Whigs held doctrines totally different from
those I have last mentioned. I assert, that the foundations laid down by
the Commons, on the trial of Dr. Sacheverell, for justifying the
Revolution of 1688, are the very same laid down in Mr. Burke's
Reflections,--that is to say, a breach of the _original contrast_,
implied and expressed in the Constitution of this country, as a scheme
of government fundamentally and inviolably fixed in King, Lords, and
Commons;--that the fundamental subversion of this ancient Constitution,
by one of its parts, having been attempted, and in effect accomplished,
justified the Revolution;--that it was justified _only_ upon the
_necessity_ of the case, as the _only_ means left for the recovery of
that _ancient_ Constitution formed by the _original contract_ of the
British state, as well as for the future preservation of the _same_
government. These are the points to be proved.

A general opening to the charge against Dr. Sacheverell was made by the
attorney-general, Sir John Montague; but as there is nothing in that
opening speech which tends very accurately to settle the principle upon
which the Whigs proceeded in the prosecution, (the plan of the speech
not requiring it,) I proceed to that of Mr. Lechmere, the manager, who
spoke next after him. The following are extracts, given, not in the
exact order in which they stand in the printed trial, but in that which
is thought most fit to bring the ideas of the Whig Commons distinctly
under our view.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Mr. Lechmere_[14]

"It becomes an _indispensable_ duty upon us, who appear in the name and
on the behalf of all the commons of Great Britain, not only to demand
your Lordships' justice on such a criminal, [Dr. Sacheverell,] _but
clearly and openly to assert our foundations_."

[Sidenote: That the terms of our Constitution imply and express an
original contract.]

[Sidenote: That the contract is mutual consent, and binding at all times
upon the parties.]

[Sidenote: The mixed Constitution uniformly preserved for many ages, and
is a proof of the contract.]

"The nature of our Constitution is that of a _limited monarchy_, wherein
the supreme power is communicated and divided between Queen, Lords, and
Commons, though the executive power and administration be wholly in the
crown. The terms of such a Constitution do not only suppose, but
express, an original contract between the crown and the people, by which
that supreme power was (by mutual consent, and not by accident) limited
and lodged in more hands than one. And _the uniform preservation of such
a Constitution for so many ages, without any fundamental change,
demonstrates to your Lordships the continuance of the same contract_.

[Sidenote: Laws the common measure to King and subject.]

[Sidenote: Case of fundamental injury, and breach of original contract.]

"The consequences of such a frame of government are obvious: That the
_laws_ are the rule to both, the common measure of the power of the
crown and of the obedience of the subject; and if the executive part
endeavors the _subversion and total destruction of the government_, the
original contract is thereby broke, and the right of allegiance ceases
that part of the government thus _fundamentally_ injured hath a right to
save or recover _that_ Constitution in which it had an original
interest."

[Sidenote: Words _necessary means_ selected with caution.]

"_The necessary means_ (which is the phrase used by the Commons in their
first article) words made choice of by them _with the greatest caution_.
Those means are described (in the preamble to their charge) to be, that
glorious enterprise which his late Majesty undertook, with an armed
force, to deliver this kingdom from Popery and arbitrary power; the
concurrence of many subjects of the realm, who came over with him in
that enterprise, and of many others, of _all ranks and orders_, who
appeared in arms in many parts of the kingdom in aid of that enterprise.

"These were the _means_ that brought about the Revolution; and which the
act that passed soon after, _declaring the rights and liberties of the
subject, and settling the succession of the crown_, intends, when his
late Majesty is therein called _the glorious instrument of delivering
the kingdom_; and which the Commons, in the last part of their first
article, express by the word _resistance_.

[Sidenote: Regard of the Commons to their allegiance to the crown, and
to the ancient Constitution.]

"But the Commons, who will never be unmindful of the _allegiance_ of the
subjects to the _crown_ of this realm, judged it highly incumbent upon
them, out of regard to the _safety of her Majesty's person and
government, and the ancient and legal Constitution of this kingdom_, to
call that resistance the _necessary_ means; thereby plainly founding
that power, of right and resistance, which was exercised by the people
at the time of the happy Revolution, and which the duties of
_self-preservation_ and religion called them to, _upon the NECESSITY of
the case, and at the same time effectually securing her Majesty's
government, and the due allegiance of all her subjects_."

[Sidenote: All ages have the same interest in preservation of the
contract, and the same Constitution.]

"The nature of such an _original contract_ of government proves that
there is not only a power in the people, who have _inherited its
freedom_, to assert their own title to it, but they are bound in duty to
transmit the _same_ Constitution to their posterity also."

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. Lechmere made a second speech. Notwithstanding the clear and
satisfactory manner in which he delivered himself in his first, upon
this arduous question, he thinks himself bound again distinctly to
assert the same foundation, and to justify the Revolution on _the case
of necessity only_, upon principles perfectly coinciding with those laid
down in Mr. Burke's letter on the French affairs.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Mr. Lechmere._

[Sidenote: The Commons strictly confine their ideas of a revolution to
necessity alone and self-defence.]

[Sidenote A: N.B. The remark implies, that allegiance would be insecure
without this restriction.]

"Your Lordships were acquainted, in opening the charge, with how _great
caution_, and with what unfeigned regard to her Majesty and her
government, and to the _duty and allegiance_ of her subjects, the
Commons made choice of the words _necessary means_ to express the
resistance that was made use of to bring about the Revolution, and with
the condemning of which the Doctor is charged by this article: not
doubting but that the honor and justice of that resistance, _from the
necessity of that case, and to which alone we have strictly confined
ourselves_, when duly considered, would confirm and strengthen[A] and be
understood to be an effectual security of the allegiance of the subject
to the crown of this realm, _in every other case where there is not the
same necessity_; and that the right of the people to _self-defence, and
preservation of their liberties, by resistance as their last remedy, is
the result of a case of such NECESSITY ONLY, and by which the ORIGINAL
CONTRACT between king and people is broke. This was the principle laid
down and carried through all that was said with respect to ALLEGIANCE;
and on WHICH FOUNDATION, in the name and on the behalf of all the
commons of Great Britain, we assert and justify that resistance by which
the late happy Revolution was brought about_."

"It appears to your Lordships and the world, that _breaking the original
contract between king and people_ were the words made choice of by that
House of Commons," (the House of Commons which originated the
Declaration of Right,) "with the _greatest deliberation and judgment_,
and approved of by your Lordships, in that first and fundamental step
made towards the _re-establishment of the government_, which had
received so great a shock from the evil counsels which had been given to
that unfortunate prince."

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir John Hawles, another of the managers, follows the steps of his
brethren, positively affirming the doctrine of non-resistance to
government to be the general moral, religious, and political rule for
the subject, and justifying the Revolution on the same principle with
Mr. Burke,--that is, as _an exception from necessity_. Indeed, he
carries the doctrine on the general idea of non-resistance much further
than Mr. Burke has done, and full as far as it can perhaps be supported
by any duty of _perfect obligation_, however noble and heroic it may be
in many cases to suffer death rather than disturb the tranquillity of
our country.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir John Hawles._[15]

"Certainly it must be granted, that the doctrine that commands obedience
to the supreme power, _though in things contrary to Nature_, even to
suffer death, which is the highest injustice that can be done a man,
rather than make an opposition to the supreme power [is reasonable[16]],
because the death of one or some few private persons is a less evil than
_disturbing the whole government_; that law must needs be understood to
forbid the doing or saying anything to disturb the government, the
rather because the obeying that law cannot be pretended to be against
Nature: and the Doctor's refusing to obey that implicit law is the
reason for which he is now prosecuted; though he would have it believed
that the reason he is now prosecuted was for the doctrine he asserted of
obedience to the supreme power; which he might have preached as long as
he had pleased, and the Commons would have taken no offence at it, if
he had stopped there, and not have taken upon him, on that pretence or
occasion, to have cast odious colors upon the Revolution."

       *       *       *       *       *

General Stanhope was among the managers. He begins his speech by a
reference to the opinion of his fellow-managers, which he hoped had put
beyond all doubt the limits and qualifications that the Commons had
placed to their doctrines concerning the Revolution; yet, not satisfied
with this general reference, after condemning the principle of
non-resistance, which is asserted in the sermon _without any exception_,
and stating, that, under the specious pretence of preaching a peaceable
doctrine, Sacheverell and the Jacobites meant, in reality, to excite a
rebellion in favor of the Pretender, he explicitly limits his ideas of
resistance with the boundaries laid down by his colleagues, and by Mr.
Burke.

       *       *       *       *       *

_General Stanhope._

[Sidenote: Rights of the subject and the crown equally legal.]

"The Constitution of England is founded upon _compact_; and the subjects
of this kingdom have, in their several public and private capacities,
_as_ legal a title to what are their rights by law _as_ a prince to the
possession of his crown.

[Sidenote: Justice of resistance founded on necessity.]

"Your Lordships, and most that hear me, are witnesses, and must remember
the _necessities_ of those times which brought about the Revolution:
that _no other_ remedy was left to preserve our religion and liberties;
_that resistance was_ necessary, _and consequently just_."

"Had the Doctor, in the remaining part of his sermon, preached up peace,
quietness, and the like, and shown how happy we are under her Majesty's
administration, and exhorted obedience to it, he had never been called
to answer a charge at your Lordships' bar. But the tenor of all his
subsequent discourse is one continued invective against the government."

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. Walpole (afterwards Sir Robert) was one of the managers on this
occasion. He was an honorable man and a sound Whig. He was not, as the
Jacobites and discontented Whigs of his time have represented him, and
as ill-informed people still represent him, a prodigal and corrupt
minister. They charged him, in their libels and seditious conversations,
as having first reduced corruption to a system. Such was their cant. But
he was far from governing by corruption. He governed by party
attachments. The charge of systematic corruption is less applicable to
him, perhaps, than to any minister who ever served the crown for so
great a length of time. He gained over very few from the opposition.
Without being a genius of the first class, he was an intelligent,
prudent, and safe minister. He loved peace, and he helped to communicate
the same disposition to nations at least as warlike and restless as that
in which he had the chief direction of affairs. Though he served a
master who was fond of martial fame, he kept all the establishments very
low. The land tax continued at two shillings in the pound for the
greater part of his administration. The other impositions were moderate.
The profound repose, the equal liberty, the firm protection of just
laws, during the long period of his power, were the principal causes of
that prosperity which afterwards took such rapid strides towards
perfection, and which furnished to this nation ability to acquire the
military glory which it has since obtained, as well as to bear the
burdens, the cause and consequence of that warlike reputation. With many
virtues, public and private, he had his faults; but his faults were
superficial. A careless, coarse, and over-familiar style of discourse,
without sufficient regard to persons or occasions, and an almost total
want of political decorum, were the errors by which he was most hurt in
the public opinion, and those through which his enemies obtained the
greatest advantage over him. But justice must be done. The prudence,
steadiness, and vigilance of that man, joined to the greatest possible
lenity in his character and his politics, preserved the crown to this
royal family, and, with it, their laws and liberties to this country.
Walpole had no other plan of defence for the Revolution than that of the
other managers, and of Mr. Burke; and he gives full as little
countenance to any arbitrary attempts, on the part of restless and
factious men, for framing new governments according to their fancies.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Mr. Walpole_.

[Sidenote: Case of resistance out of the law, and the highest offence.]

[Sidenote: Utmost necessity justifies it.]

"Resistance is nowhere enacted to be legal, but subjected, by all the
laws now in being, to the greatest penalties. 'Tis what is not, cannot,
nor ought ever to be described, or affirmed in any positive law, to be
excusable; when, and upon what _never-to-be-expected_ occasions, it may
be exercised, no man can foresee; _and ought never to be thought of, but
when an utter subversion of the laws of the realm threatens the whole
frame of a Constitution, and no redress can otherwise be hoped for_. It
therefore does and _ought forever_ to stand, in the eye and letter of
the law, as the _highest offence_. But because any man, or party of men,
may not, out of folly or wantonness, commit treason, or make their own
discontents, ill principles, or disguised affections to another
interest, a pretence to resist the supreme power, will it follow from
thence that the _utmost necessity_ ought not to engage a nation _in its
own defence for the preservation of the whole_?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir Joseph Jekyl was, as I have always heard and believed, as nearly as
any individual could be, the very standard of Whig principles in his
age. He was a learned and an able man; full of honor, integrity, and
public spirit; no lover of innovation; nor disposed to change his solid
principles for the giddy fashion of the hour. Let us hear this Whig.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl._

[Sidenote: Commons do not state the limits of submission.]

[Sidenote: To secure the laws, the only aim of the Revolution.]

"In clearing up and vindicating the justice of the Revolution, which was
the second thing proposed, it is far from the intent of the Commons to
state the _limits and bounds_ of the subject's submission to the
sovereign. That which the law hath been wisely silent in, the Commons
desire to be silent in too; nor will they put _any_ case of a
justifiable resistance, but that of the Revolution only: and _they
persuade themselves that the doing right to that resistance will be so
far from promoting popular license or confusion, that it will have a
contrary effect, and be a means of settling men's minds in the love of
and veneration for the laws_; to rescue and secure which was the _ONLY
aim and intention of those concerned in that resistance_."

       *       *       *       *       *

Dr. Sacheverell's counsel defended him on this principle, namely,--that,
whilst he enforced from the pulpit the general doctrine of
non-resistance, he was not obliged to take notice of the theoretic
limits which ought to modify that doctrine. Sir Joseph Jekyl, in his
reply, whilst he controverts its application to the Doctor's defence,
fully admits and even enforces the principle itself, and supports the
Revolution of 1688, as he and all the managers had done before, exactly
upon the same grounds on which Mr. Burke has built, in his Reflections
on the French Revolution.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl._

[Sidenote: Blamable to state the bounds of non-resistance.]

[Sidenote: Resistance lawful only in _case_ of extreme and obvious
necessity.]

"If the Doctor had pretended to have stated the particular bounds and
limits of non-resistance, and told the people in what cases they might
or might not resist, _he would have been much to blame_; nor was one
word said in the articles, or by the managers, as if that was expected
from him; but, _on the contrary, we have insisted that in NO case can
resistance be lawful, but in case of EXTREME NECESSITY, and where the
Constitution can't otherwise be preserved; and such necessity ought to
be plain and obvious to the sense and judgment of the whole nation: and
this was the case at the Revolution_."

       *       *       *       *       *

The counsel for Doctor Sacheverell, in defending their client, were
driven in reality to abandon the fundamental principles of his doctrine,
and to confess that an exception to the general doctrine of passive
obedience and non-resistance did exist in the case of the Revolution.
This the managers for the Commons considered as having gained their
cause, as their having obtained _the whole_ of what they contended for.
They congratulated themselves and the nation on a civil victory as
glorious and as honorable as any that had obtained in arms during that
reign of triumphs.

Sir Joseph Jekyl, in his reply to Harcourt, and the other great men who
conducted the cause for the Tory side, spoke in the following memorable
terms, distinctly stating the whole of what the Whig House of Commons
contended for, in the name of all their constituents.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl._

[Sidenote: Necessity creates an exception, and the Revolution a case of
necessity, the utmost extent of the demand of the Commons.]

"My Lords, the concessions" (the concessions of Sacheverell's counsel)
"are these: That _necessity_ creates an _exception_ to the general rule
of submission to the prince; that such exception is understood or
implied in the laws that require such submission; and that _the case of
the Revolution was a case of necessity._

"These are concessions _so ample_, and do so _fully_ answer the drift of
the Commons in this article, and are to _the utmost extent of their
meaning in it_, that I can't forbear congratulating them upon this
success of their impeachment,--that in full Parliament, this erroneous
doctrine of _unlimited_ non-resistance is given up and disclaimed. And
may it not, in after ages, be an addition to the glories of this bright
reign, that so many of those who are honored with being in her Majesty's
service have been at your Lordships' bar thus successfully contending
for the _national_ rights of her people, and proving they are not
precarious or remediless?

"But to return to these concessions: I must appeal to your Lordships,
whether they are not a _total departure_ from the Doctor's answer."

       *       *       *       *       *

I now proceed to show that the Whig managers for the Commons meant to
preserve the government on a firm foundation, by asserting the perpetual
validity of the settlement then made, and its coercive power upon
posterity. I mean to show that they gave no sort of countenance to any
doctrine tending to impress the _people_ (taken separately from the
legislature, which includes the crown) with an idea that _they_ had
acquired a moral or civil competence to alter, without breach of the
original compact on the part of the king, the succession to the crown,
at their pleasure,--much less that they had acquired any right, in the
case of such an event as caused the Revolution, to set up any new form
of government. The author of the Reflections, I believe, thought that no
man of common understanding could oppose to this doctrine the ordinary
sovereign power as declared in the act of Queen Anne: that is, that the
kings or queens of the realm, with the consent of Parliament, are
competent to regulate and to settle the succession of the crown. This
power is and ever was inherent in the supreme sovereignty, and was not,
as the political divines vainly talk, acquired by the Revolution. It is
declared in the old statute of Queen Elizabeth. Such a power must reside
in the complete sovereignty of every kingdom; and it is in fact
exercised in all of them. But this right of _competence_ in the
legislature, not in the people, is by the legislature itself to be
exercised with _sound discretion_: that is to say, it is to be exercised
or not, in conformity to the fundamental principles of this government,
to the rules of moral obligation, and to the faith of pacts, either
contained in the nature of the transaction or entered into by the body
corporate of the kingdom,--which body in juridical construction never
dies, and in fact never loses its members at once by death.

Whether this doctrine is reconcilable to the modern philosophy of
government I believe the author neither knows nor cares, as he has
little respect for any of that sort of philosophy. This may be because
his capacity and knowledge do not reach to it. If such be the case, he
cannot be blamed, if he acts on the sense of that incapacity; he cannot
be blamed, if, in the most arduous and critical questions which can
possibly arise, and which affect to the quick the vital parts of our
Constitution, he takes the side which leans most to safety and
settlement; that he is resolved not "to be wise beyond what is written"
in the legislative record and practice; that, when doubts arise on them,
he endeavors to interpret one statute by another, and to reconcile them
all to established, recognized morals, and to the general, ancient,
known policy of the laws of England. Two things are equally evident: the
first is, that the legislature possesses the power of regulating the
succession of the crown; the second, that in the exercise of that right
it has uniformly acted as if under the _restraints_ which the author has
stated. That author makes what the ancients call _mos majorum_ not
indeed his sole, but certainly his principal rule of policy, to guide
his judgment in whatever regards our laws. Uniformity and analogy can be
preserved in them by this process only. That point being fixed, and
laying fast hold of a strong bottom, our speculations may swing in all
directions without public detriment, because they will ride with sure
anchorage.

In this manner these things have been always considered by our
ancestors. There are some, indeed, who have the art of turning the very
acts of Parliament which were made for securing the hereditary
succession in the present royal family, by rendering it penal to doubt
of the validity of those acts of Parliament, into an instrument for
defeating all their ends and purposes,--but upon grounds so very foolish
that it is not worth while to take further notice of such sophistry.

To prevent any unnecessary subdivision, I shall here put together what
may be necessary to show the perfect agreement of the Whigs with Mr.
Burke in his assertions, that the Revolution made no "essential change
in the constitution of the monarchy, or in any of its ancient, sound,
and legal principles; that the succession was settled in the Hanover
family, upon the idea and in the mode of an hereditary succession
qualified with Protestantism; that it was not settled upon _elective_
principles, in any sense of the word _elective_, or under any
modification or description of _election_ whatsoever; but, on the
contrary, that the nation, after the Revolution, renewed by a fresh
compact the spirit of the original compact of the state, binding itself,
_both in its existing members and all its posterity_, to adhere to the
settlement of an hereditary succession in the Protestant line, drawn
from James the First, as the stock of inheritance."

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir John Hawles_.

[Sidenote: Necessity of settling the right of the crown, and submission
to the settlement.]

"If he [Dr. Sacheverell] is of the opinion he pretends, I can't imagine
how it comes to pass that he that pays that deference to the supreme
power has preached so directly contrary to the determinations of the
supreme power in this government, he very well knowing that the
lawfulness of the Revolution, and of the means whereby it was brought
about, has already been determined by the aforesaid acts of
Parliament,--and do it in the worst manner that he could invent. _For
questioning the right to the crown here in England has procured the
shedding of more blood and caused more slaughter than all the other
matters tending to disturbances in the government put together._ If,
therefore, the doctrine which the Apostles had laid down was only to
continue the peace of the world, as thinking the death of some few
particular persons better to be borne with than a civil war, sure it is
the highest breach of that law to question the first principles of this
government."

"If the Doctor had been contented with the liberty he took of preaching
up the duty of passive obedience in the most extensive manner he had
thought fit, and would have stopped there, your Lordships would not have
had the trouble in relation to him that you now have; but it is plain
that he preached up his absolute and unconditional obedience, not _to
continue the peace and tranquillity of this nation, but to set the
subjects at strife, and to raise a war in the bowels of this nation_:
and it is for _this_ that he is now prosecuted; though he would fain
have it believed that the prosecution was for preaching the peaceable
doctrine of absolute obedience."

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl_.

[Sidenote: Whole frame of government restored unhurt, on the
Revolution.]

"The whole tenor of the administration then in being was agreed to by
all to be a _total departure from the Constitution_. The nation was at
that time united in that opinion, all but the criminal part of it. And
as the nation joined in the judgment of their disease, so they did in
the remedy. _They saw there was no remedy left but the last;_ and when
that remedy took place, _the whole frame of the government was restored
entire and unhurt_.[17] This showed the excellent temper the nation was
in at that time, that, after such provocations from an abuse of the
regal power, and such a convulsion, _no one part of the Constitution was
altered, or suffered the least damage; but, on the contrary, the whole
received new life and vigor_."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Tory counsel for Dr. Sacheverell having insinuated that a great and
essential alteration in the Constitution had been wrought by the
Revolution, Sir Joseph Jekyl is so strong on this point, that he takes
fire even at the insinuation of his being of such an opinion.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl._

[Sidenote: No innovation at the Revolution.]

"If the Doctor instructed his counsel to insinuate that there was _any
innovation in the Constitution wrought by the Revolution, it is an
addition to his crime. The Revolution did not introduce any innovation;
it was a restoration of the ancient fundamental Constitution of the
kingdom_, and giving it its proper force and energy."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Solicitor-General, Sir Robert Eyre, distinguishes expressly the case
of the Revolution, and its principles, from a proceeding at pleasure, on
the part of the people, to change their ancient Constitution, and to
frame a new government for themselves. He distinguishes it with the same
care from the principles of regicide and republicanism, and the sorts of
resistance condemned by the doctrines of the Church of England, and
which ought to be condemned by the doctrines of all churches professing
Christianity.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Mr. Solicitor-General, Sir Robert Eyre._

[Sidenote: Revolution no precedent for voluntary cancelling allegiance.]

[Sidenote: Revolution not like the case of Charles the First.]

"The resistance at the Revolution, which was founded in _unavoidable
necessity_, could be no defence to a man that was attacked _for
asserting that the people might cancel their allegiance at pleasure, or
dethrone and murder their sovereign by a judiciary sentence_. For it can
never be inferred, from the lawfulness of resistance at a time when _a
total subversion of the government both in Church and State was
intended_, that a people may take up arms and _call their sovereign to
account at pleasure_; and therefore, since _the Revolution could be of
no service in giving the least color for asserting any such wicked
principle_, the Doctor could never intend to put it into the mouths of
those new preachers and new politicians for a defence,--unless it be his
opinion that the resistance at the Revolution can bear any parallel with
_the execrable murder of the royal martyr, so justly detested by the
whole nation_."

[Sidenote: Sacheverell's doctrine intended to bring an odium on the
Revolution.]

[Sidenote: True defence of the Revolution an absolute necessity.]

"'Tis plain that the Doctor is not impeached for preaching a general
doctrine, and enforcing the general duty of obedience, but for preaching
against an _excepted case after he has stated the exception_. He is not
impeached for preaching the general doctrine of obedience, and the utter
illegality of resistance upon any pretence whatsoever, but because,
having first laid down the general doctrine as true, without any
exception, _he states the excepted case_, the Revolution, in express
terms, as an objection, and then assumes the consideration of that
excepted case, denies there was any resistance in the Revolution, and
asserts that to impute resistance to the Revolution would cast black and
odious colors upon it. This, my Lords, is not preaching the doctrine of
non-resistance in the _general_ terms used by the Homilies and the
fathers of the Church, where cases of necessity may be _understood to be
excepted by a tacit implication, as the counsel have allowed_,--but is
preaching directly against the resistance at the Revolution, which, in
the course of this debate, has been all along admitted to _be necessary
and just_, and can have no other meaning than to bring a dishonor upon
the Revolution, and an odium upon those great and illustrious persons,
_those friends to the monarchy and the Church, that assisted in bringing
it about_. For had the Doctor intended anything else, he would have
treated the case of the Revolution in a different manner, and have
given _it the true and fair answer_: he would have said that the
resistance at the Revolution was _of absolute necessity, and the only
means left to revive the Constitution, and must be therefore taken as an
excepted case_, and could never come within the reach or intention of
the general doctrine of the Church."

"Your Lordships take notice on what grounds the Doctor continues to
assert the same position in his answer. But is it not most evident that
the general exhortations to be met with in the Homilies of the Church of
England, and such like declarations in the statutes of the kingdom, are
meant only as rules for the civil obedience of the subject to the legal
administration of the supreme power in _ordinary cases_? And it is
equally absurd to construe any words in a positive law to authorize the
destruction of the whole, as to expect that King, Lords, and Commons
should, in express terms of law, declare _such an ultimate resort as the
right of resistance, at a time when the case supposes that the force of
all law is ceased_."[18]

[Sidenote: Commons abhor whatever shakes the submission of posterity to
the settlement of the crown.]

"The Commons must always resent, with the utmost detestation and
abhorrence, every position that may shake the authority of that act of
Parliament whereby the crown is settled upon her Majesty, _and whereby
the Lords Spiritual and Temporal and Commons do, in the name of all the
people of England, most humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their
heirs and posterities, to her Majesty_, which this general principle of
absolute non-resistance must certainly shake.

"For, if the resistance at the Revolution was illegal, the Revolution
settled in usurpation, and this act can have no greater force and
authority than an act passed under a usurper.

"And the Commons take leave to observe, that the authority of this
Parliamentary settlement is a matter of the greatest consequence to
maintain, in a case where the hereditary right to the crown is
contested."

"It appears by the several instances mentioned in the act declaring the
rights and liberties of the subject and settling the succession of the
crown, that at the time of the Revolution there was _a total subversion
of the constitution of government both in Church and State, which is a
case that the laws of England could never suppose, provide for, or have
in view._"

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir Joseph Jekyl, so often quoted, considered the preservation of the
monarchy, and of the rights and prerogatives of the crown, as essential
objects with all sound Whigs, and that they were bound not only to
maintain them, when injured or invaded, but to exert themselves as much
for their reëstablishment, if they should happen to be overthrown by
popular fury, as any of their own more immediate and popular rights and
privileges, if the latter should be at any time subverted by the crown.
For this reason he puts the cases of the _Revolution_, and the
_Restoration_ exactly upon the same footing. He plainly marks, that it
was the object of all honest men not to sacrifice one part of the
Constitution to another, and much more, not to sacrifice any of them to
visionary theories of the rights of man, but to preserve our whole
inheritance in the Constitution, in all its members and all its
relations, entire and unimpaired, from generation to generation. In this
Mr. Burke exactly agrees with him.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl._

[Sidenote: What are the rights of the people.]

[Sidenote: Restoration and Revolution.]

[Sidenote: People have an equal interest in the legal rights of the
crown and of their own.]

"Nothing is plainer than that the people have a right to the laws and
the Constitution. This right the nation hath asserted, and recovered out
of the hands of those who had dispossessed them of it at several times.
There are of this _two famous instances_ in the knowledge of the present
age: I mean that of the _Restoration_, and that of the _Revolution_: in
both these great events were the _regal power_ and the _rights of the
people_ recovered. And it is _hard to say in which the people have the
greatest interest; for the Commons are sensible that there it not one
legal power belonging to the crown, but they have an interest in it; and
I doubt not but they will always be as careful to support the rights of
the crown as their own privileges_."

       *       *       *       *       *

The other Whig managers regarded (as he did) the overturning of the
monarchy by a republican faction with the very same horror and
detestation with which they regarded the destruction of the privileges
of the people by an arbitrary monarch.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Mr. Lechmere_,

[Sidenote: Constitution recovered at the Restoration and Revolution.]

Speaking of our Constitution, states it as "a Constitution which happily
recovered itself, at the Restoration, from the confusions and disorders
which _the horrid and detestable proceedings of faction and usurpation
had thrown it into_, and which after many convulsions and struggles was
providentially saved at the late happy Revolution, and by the many good
laws passed since that time stands now upon a firmer foundation,
together with the most comfortable prospect of _security to all
posterity_ by the settlement of the crown in the Protestant line."

       *       *       *       *       *

I mean now to show that the Whigs (if Sir Joseph Jekyl was one, and if
he spoke in conformity to the sense of the Whig House of Commons, and
the Whig ministry who employed him) did carefully guard against any
presumption that might arise from the repeal of the non-resistance oath
of Charles the Second, as if at the Revolution the ancient principles of
our government were at all changed, or that republican doctrines were
countenanced, or any sanction given to seditious proceedings upon
general undefined ideas of misconduct, or for changing the form of
government, or for resistance upon any other ground than the _necessity_
so often mentioned for the purpose of self-preservation. It will show
still more clearly the equal care of the then Whigs to prevent either
the regal power from being swallowed up on pretence of popular rights,
or the popular rights from being destroyed on pretence of regal
prerogatives.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir Joseph Jekyl_.

[Sidenote: Mischief of broaching antimonarchical principles.]

[Sidenote: Two cases of resistance: one to preserve the crown, the other
the rights of the subject.]

"Further, I desire it may be considered, these legislators" (the
legislators who framed the non-resistance oath of Charles the Second)
"were guarding against the consequences of those _pernicious and
antimonarchical principles which had been broached a little before in
this nation_, and those large declarations in favor of _non-resistance_
were made to encounter or obviate the _mischief_ of those
principles,--as appears by the preamble to the fullest of those acts,
which is the _Militia Act_, in the 13th and 14th of King Charles the
Second. The words of that act are these: _And during the late usurped
governments, many evil and rebellious principles have been instilled
into the minds of the people of this kingdom, which may break forth,
unless prevented, to the disturbance of the peace and quiet thereof: Be
it therefore enacted_, &c. Here your Lordships may see the reason that
inclined those legislators to express themselves in such a manner
against resistance. _They had seen the regal rights swallowed up under
the pretence of popular ones_: and it is no imputation on them, that
they did not then foresee a _quite different case_, as was that of the
Revolution, where, under the pretence of regal authority, a total
subversion of the rights of the subject was advanced, and in a manner
effected. And this may serve to show that it was not the design of those
legislators to condemn resistance, in a case _of absolute necessity, for
preserving the Constitution_, when they were guarding against principles
which had so lately destroyed it."

[Sidenote: Non-resistance oath not repealed because (with the
restriction of necessity) it was false, but to prevent false
interpretations.]

"As to the truth of the doctrine in this declaration which was repealed,
_I'll admit it to be as true as the Doctor's counsel assert it,--that
is, with an exception of cases of necessity_: and it was not repealed
because it was false, _understanding it with that restriction_; but it
was repealed because it might be interpreted in _an unconfined sense,
and exclusive of that restriction_, and, being so understood, would
reflect on the justice of the Revolution: and this the legislature had
at heart, and were very jealous of, and by this repeal of that
declaration gave a Parliamentary or legislative admonition against
asserting this doctrine of non-resistance _in an unlimited sense_."

[Sidenote: General doctrine of non-resistance godly and wholesome; not
bound to state _explicitly_ the exceptions.]

"Though the general doctrine of non-resistance, the doctrine of the
Church of England, as stated in her Homilies, or elsewhere delivered, by
which the general duty of subjects to the higher powers is taught, be
owned to be, as unquestionably it is, _a godly and wholesome
doctrine_,--though this general doctrine has been constantly inculcated
by the reverend fathers of the Church, dead and living, and preached by
them as a preservative against the Popish doctrine of deposing princes,
and as the ordinary rule of obedience,--and though the same doctrine has
been preached, maintained, and avowed by our most orthodox and able
divines from the time of the Reformation,--and how _innocent a man_
soever Dr. Sacheverell had been, if, _with an honest and well-meant_
zeal, he had preached the same doctrine in the same general terms in
which he found it delivered by the Apostles of Christ, as taught by the
Homilies and the reverend fathers of our Church, and, in imitation of
those great examples, had only pressed the general duty of obedience,
and the illegality of resistance, without taking notice of any
exception," &c.

       *       *       *       *       *

Another of the managers for the House of Commons, Sir John Holland, was
not less careful in guarding against a confusion of the principles of
the Revolution with any loose, general doctrines of a right in the
individual, or even in the people, to undertake for themselves, on any
prevalent, temporary opinions of convenience or improvement, any
fundamental change in the Constitution, or to fabricate a new
government for themselves, and thereby to disturb the public peace, and
to unsettle the ancient Constitution of this kingdom.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Sir John Holland_.

[Sidenote: Submission to the sovereign a conscientious duty, except in
cases of necessity.]

"The Commons would not be understood as if they were pleading for a
licentious resistance, as if _subjects_ were left to _their_ good-will
and pleasure when they are to _obey_ and when to _resist_. No, my Lords,
they know they are _obliged by all the ties of social creatures and
Christians, for wrath and conscience' sake, to submit to their
sovereign_. The Commons do not abet _humorsome, factious arms_: they
aver them to be _rebellions_. But yet they maintain that that resistance
at the Revolution, which was so _necessary, was lawful and just from
that necessity_."

[Sidenote: Right of resistance how to be understood.]

"These general rules of obedience may, upon a _real necessity,_ admit a
lawful _exception_; and such a _necessary exception_ we assert the
Revolution to be.

"'Tis with this view of _necessity_, only _absolute necessity_ of
preserving our laws, liberties, and religion,--'tis with _this
limitation_, that we desire to be understood, when any of us speak of
resistance in general. The _necessity_ of the resistance at the
Revolution was at that time obvious to every man."

       *       *       *       *       *

I shall conclude these extracts with a reference to the Prince of
Orange's Declaration, in which he gives the nation the fullest assurance
that in his enterprise he was far from the intention of introducing any
change whatever in the fundamental law and Constitution of the state. He
considered the object of his enterprise not to be a precedent for
further revolutions, but that it was the great end of his expedition to
make such revolutions, so far as human power and wisdom could provide,
unnecessary.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Extracts from the Prince of Orange's Declaration_.

"_All magistrates, who have been_ unjustly turned out, shall _forthwith
resume their former_ employments; as well as all the boroughs of England
shall return again to _their ancient prescriptions and charters_, and,
more particularly, that _the ancient_ charter of the great and famous
city of London shall again be in force; and that the writs for the
members of Parliament shall be addressed to the _proper officers,
according to law and custom_."

"And for the doing of all other things which the two Houses of
Parliament shall find necessary for the peace, honor, and safety of the
nation, so that there may _be no more danger of the nation's falling, at
any time hereafter, under arbitrary government_."

       *       *       *       *       *

_Extract from the Prince of Oranges Additional Declaration_.

[Sidenote: Principal nobility and gentry well affected to the Church and
crown, security against the design of innovation.]

"We are confident that no persons can have _such hard thoughts of us_ as
to imagine that we have any other design in this undertaking than to
procure a settlement of the _religion and of the liberties and
properties of the subjects upon so sure a foundation that there may be
no danger of the nation's relapsing into the like miseries at any time
hereafter_. And as the forces that we have brought along with us are
utterly disproportioned to that wicked design of conquering the nation,
if we were capable of intending it, _so the great numbers of the
principal nobility and gentry, that are men of eminent quality and
estates, and persons of known integrity and zeal, both for the religion
and government of England, many of them, also being distinguished by
their constant fidelity to the crown_, who do both accompany us in this
expedition and have earnestly solicited us to it, will cover us from all
such malicious insinuations."

       *       *       *       *       *

In the spirit, and, upon one occasion, in the words,[19] of this
Declaration, the statutes passed in that reign made such provisions for
preventing these dangers, that scarcely anything short of combination of
King, Lords, and Commons, for the destruction of the liberties of the
nation, can in any probability make us liable to similar perils. In that
dreadful, and, I hope, not to be looked-for case, any opinion of a right
to make revolutions, grounded on this precedent, would be but a poor
resource. Dreadful, indeed, would be our situation!

       *       *       *       *       *

These are the doctrines held by _the Whigs of the Revolution_, delivered
with as much solemnity, and as authentically at least, as any political
dogmas were ever promulgated from the beginning of the world. If there
be any difference between their tenets and those of Mr. Burke, it is,
that the old Whigs oppose themselves still more strongly than he does
against the doctrines which are now propagated with so much industry by
those who would be thought their successors.

It will be said, perhaps, that the old Whigs, in order to guard
themselves against popular odium, pretended to assert tenets contrary
to those which they secretly held. This, if true, would prove, what Mr.
Burke has uniformly asserted, that the extravagant doctrines which he
meant to expose were disagreeable to the body of the people,--who,
though they perfectly abhor a despotic government, certainly approached
more nearly to the love of mitigated monarchy than to anything which
bears the appearance even of the best republic. But if these old Whigs
deceived the people, their conduct was unaccountable indeed. They
exposed their power, as every one conversant in history knows, to the
greatest peril, for the propagation of opinions which, on this
hypothesis, they did not hold. It is a new kind of martyrdom. This
supposition does as little credit to their integrity as their wisdom: it
makes them at once hypocrites and fools. I think of those great men very
differently. I hold them to have been, what the world thought them, men
of deep understanding, open sincerity, and clear honor. However, be that
matter as it may, what these old Whigs pretended to be Mr. Burke is.
This is enough for him.

I do, indeed, admit, that, though Mr. Burke has proved that his opinions
were those of the old Whig party, solemnly declared by one House, in
effect and substance by both Houses of Parliament, this testimony
standing by itself will form no proper defence for his opinions, if he
and the old Whigs were both of them in the wrong. But it is his present
concern, not to vindicate these old Whigs, but to show his agreement
with them. He appeals to them as judges: he does not vindicate them as
culprits. It is current that these old politicians knew little of the
rights of men,--that they lost their way by groping about in the dark,
and fumbling among rotten parchments and musty records. Great lights,
they say, are lately obtained in the world; and Mr. Burke, instead of
shrouding himself in exploded ignorance, ought to have taken advantage
of the blaze of illumination which has been spread about him. It may be
so. The enthusiasts of this time, it seems, like their predecessors in
another faction of fanaticism, deal in lights. Hudibras pleasantly says
of them, they

    "Have _lights_, where better eyes are blind,--
     As pigs are said to see the wind."

The author of the Reflections has _heard_ a great deal concerning the
modern lights, but he has not yet had the good fortune to _see_ much of
them. He has read more than he can justify to anything but the spirit of
curiosity, of the works of these illuminators of the world. He has
learned nothing from the far greater number of them than a full
certainty of their shallowness, levity, pride, petulance, presumption,
and ignorance. Where the old authors whom he has read, and the old men
whom he has conversed with, have left him in the dark, he is in the dark
still. If others, however, have obtained any of this extraordinary
light, they will use it to guide them in their researches and their
conduct. I have only to wish that the nation may be as happy and as
prosperous under the influence of the new light as it has been in the
sober shade of the old obscurity. As to the rest, it will be difficult
for the author of the Reflections to conform to the principles of the
avowed leaders of the party, until they appear otherwise than
negatively. All we can gather from them is this,--that their principles
are diametrically opposite to his. This is all that we know from
authority. Their negative declaration obliges me to have recourse to
the books which contain positive doctrines. They are, indeed, to those
Mr. Burke holds diametrically opposite; and if it be true (as the
oracles of the party have said, I hope hastily) that their opinions
differ so widely, it should seem they are the most likely to form the
creed of the modern Whigs.

       *       *       *       *       *

I have stated what were the avowed sentiments of the old Whigs, not in
the way of argument, but narratively. It is but fair to set before the
reader, in the same simple manner, the sentiments of the modern, to
which they spare neither pains nor expense to make proselytes. I choose
them from the books upon which most of that industry and expenditure in
circulation have been employed; I choose them, not from those who speak
with a politic obscurity, not from those who only controvert the
opinions of the old Whigs, without advancing any of their own, but from
those who speak plainly and affirmatively. The Whig reader may make his
choice between the two doctrines.

The doctrine, then, propagated by these societies, which gentlemen think
they ought to be very tender in discouraging, as nearly as possible in
their own words, is as follows: That in Great Britain we are not only
without a good Constitution, but that we have "no Constitution";--that,
"though it is much talked about, no such thing as a Constitution exists
or ever did exist, and consequently that _the people have a Constitution
yet to form_;--that since William the Conqueror the country has never
yet _regenerated itself_, and is therefore without a Constitution;--that
where it cannot be produced in a visible form there is none;--that a
Constitution is a thing antecedent to government; and that the
Constitution of a country is not the act of its government, but of a
people constituting a government;--that _everything_ in the English
government is the reverse of what it ought to be, and what it is said to
be in England;--that the right of war and peace resides in a metaphor
shown at the Tower for sixpence or a shilling apiece;--that it signifies
not where the right resides, whether in the crown or in Parliament; war
is the common harvest of those who participate in the division and
expenditure of public money;--that the portion of liberty enjoyed in
England is just enough to enslave a country more productively than by
despotism."

So far as to the general state of the British Constitution.--As to our
House of Lords, the chief virtual representative of our aristocracy, the
great ground and pillar of security to the landed interest, and that
main link by which it is connected with the law and the crown, these
worthy societies are pleased to tell us, that, "whether we view
aristocracy before, or behind, or sideways, or any way else,
domestically or publicly, it is still a _monster_;--that aristocracy in
France had one feature less in its countenance than what it has in some
other countries: it did not compose a body of hereditary legislators; it
was not _a corporation of aristocracy_" (for such, it seems, that
profound legislator, M. de La Fayette, describes the House of
Peers);--"that it is kept up by family tyranny and injustice;--that
there is an unnatural unfitness in aristocracy to be legislators for a
nation;--that their ideas of distributive justice are corrupted at the
very source; they begin life by trampling on all their younger brothers
and sisters, and relations of every kind, and are taught and educated
so to do;--that the idea of an hereditary legislator is as absurd as an
hereditary mathematician;--that a body holding themselves unaccountable
to anybody ought to be trusted by nobody;--that it is continuing the
uncivilized principles of governments founded in conquest, and the base
idea of man having a property in man, and governing him by a personal
right;--that aristocracy has a tendency to degenerate the human
species," &c., &c.

As to our law of primogeniture, which with few and inconsiderable
exceptions is the standing law of all our landed inheritance, and which
without question has a tendency, and I think a most happy tendency, to
preserve a character of consequence, weight, and prevalent influence
over others in the whole body of the landed interest, they call loudly
for its destruction. They do this for political reasons that are very
manifest. They have the confidence to say, "that it is a law against
every law of Nature, and Nature herself calls for its destruction.
Establish family justice, and aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical
law of primogenitureship, in a family of six children, five are exposed.
Aristocracy has never but _one_ child. The rest are begotten to be
devoured. They are thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural
parent prepares the unnatural repast."

As to the House of Commons, they treat it far worse than the House of
Lords or the crown have been ever treated. Perhaps they thought they had
a greater right to take this amicable freedom with those of their own
family. For many years it has been the perpetual theme of their
invectives. "Mockery, insult, usurpation," are amongst the best names
they bestow upon it. They damn it in the mass, by declaring "that it
does not arise out of the inherent rights of the people, as the National
Assembly does in France, and whose name designates its original."

Of the charters and corporations, to whose rights a few years ago these
gentlemen were so tremblingly alive, they say, "that, when the people of
England come to reflect upon them, they will, like France, annihilate
those badges of oppression, those traces of a conquered nation."

As to our monarchy, they had formerly been more tender of that branch of
the Constitution, and for a good reason. The laws had guarded against
all seditious attacks upon it with a greater degree of strictness and
severity. The tone of these gentlemen is totally altered since the
French Revolution. They now declaim as vehemently against the monarchy
as on former occasions they treacherously flattered and soothed it.

"When we survey the wretched condition of man under the monarchical and
hereditary systems of government, dragged from his home by one power, or
driven by another, and impoverished by taxes more than by enemies, it
becomes evident that those systems are bad, and that a general
revolution in the principle and construction of governments is
necessary.

"What is government more than the management of the affairs of a nation?
It is not, and from its nature cannot be, the property of any particular
man or family, but of the whole community, at whose expense it is
supported; and though by force or contrivance it has been usurped into
an inheritance, the usurpation cannot alter the right of things.
Sovereignty, as a matter of right, appertains to the nation only, and
not to any individual; and a nation has at all times an inherent
indefeasible right to abolish any form of government it finds
inconvenient, and establish such as accords with its interest,
disposition, and happiness. The romantic and barbarous distinction of
men into kings and subjects, though it may suit the condition of
courtiers, cannot that of citizens, and is exploded by the principle
upon which governments are now founded. Every citizen is a member of the
sovereignty, and, as such, can acknowledge no personal subjection, and
his obedience can be only to the laws."

Warmly recommending to us the example of Prance, where they have
destroyed monarchy, they say,--

"Monarchical sovereignty, the enemy of mankind, and the source of
misery, is abolished; and sovereignty itself is restored to its natural
and original place, the nation. Were this the case throughout Europe,
the cause of wars would be taken away."

"But, after all, what is this metaphor called a crown? or rather, what
is monarchy? Is it a thing, or is it a name, or is it a fraud? Is it 'a
contrivance of human wisdom,' or of human craft, to obtain money from a
nation under specious pretences? Is it a thing necessary to a nation? If
it is, in what does that necessity consist, what services does it
perform, what is its business, and what are its merits? Doth the virtue
consist in the metaphor or in the man? Doth the goldsmith that makes the
crown make the virtue also? Doth it operate like Fortunatus's
wishing-cap or Harlequin's wooden sword? Doth it make a man a conjurer?
In fine, what is it? It appears to be a something going much out of
fashion, falling into ridicule, and rejected in some countries both as
unnecessary and expensive. In America it is considered as an absurdity;
and in France it has so far declined, that the goodness of the man and
the respect for his personal character are the only things that preserve
the appearance of its existence."

"Mr. Burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if it were
some production of Nature,--or as if, like time, it had a power to
operate, not only independently, but in spite of man,--or as if it were
a thing or a subject universally consented to. Alas! it has none of
those properties, but is the reverse of them all. It is a thing in
imagination, the propriety of which is more than doubted, and the
legality of which in a few years will be denied."

"If I ask the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and
down through all the occupations of life to the common laborer, what
service monarchy is to him, he can give me no answer. If I ask him what
monarchy is, he believes it is something like a sinecure."

"The French Constitution says, that the right of war and peace is in the
nation. Where else should it reside, but in those who are to pay the
expense?

"In England, this right is said to reside in a _metaphor_, shown at the
Tower for sixpence or a shilling apiece: so are the lions; and it would
be a step nearer to reason to say it resided in them, for any inanimate
metaphor is no more than a hat or a cap. We can all see the absurdity of
worshipping Aaron's molten calf, or Nebuchadnezzar's golden image; but
why do men continue to practise themselves the absurdities they despise
in others?"

The Revolution and Hanover succession had been objects of the highest
veneration to the old Whigs. They thought them not only proofs of the
sober and steady spirit of liberty which guided their ancestors, but of
their wisdom and provident care of posterity. The modern Whigs have
quite other notions of these events and actions. They do not deny that
Mr. Burke has given truly the words of the acts of Parliament which
secured the succession, and the just sense of them. They attack not him,
but the law.

"Mr Burke" (say they) "has done some service, not to his cause, but to
his country, by bringing those clauses into public view. They serve to
demonstrate how necessary it is at all times to watch against the
attempted encroachment of power, and to prevent its running to excess.
It is somewhat extraordinary, that the offence for which James the
Second was expelled, that of setting up power by _assumption_, should be
re-acted, under another shape and form, by the Parliament that expelled
him. It shows that the rights of man were but imperfectly understood at
the Revolution; for certain it is, that the right which that Parliament
set up by _assumption_ (for by delegation it had it not, and could not
have it, because none could give it) over the persons and freedom of
posterity forever, was of the same tyrannical unfounded kind which James
attempted to set up over the Parliament and the nation, and for which he
was expelled. The only difference is, (for in principle they differ
not,) that the one was an usurper over the living, and the other over
the unborn; and as the one has no better authority to stand upon than
the other, both of them must be equally null and void, and of no
effect."

"As the estimation of all things is by comparison, the Revolution of
1688, however from circumstances it may have been exalted beyond its
value, will find its level. It is already on the wane, eclipsed by the
enlarging orb of reason and the luminous Revolutions of America and
France. In less than another century, it will go, as well as Mr. Burke's
labors, 'to the family vault of all the Capulets.' _Mankind will then
scarcely believe that a country calling itself free would send to
Holland for a man and clothe him with power on purpose to put themselves
in fear of him, and give him almost a million sterling a year for leave
to submit themselves and their posterity like bondmen and bondwomen
forever_."

Mr. Burke having said that "the king holds his crown in contempt of the
choice of the Revolution Society, who individually or collectively have
not" (as most certainly they have not) "a vote for a king amongst them,"
they take occasion from thence to infer that the king who does not hold
his crown by election despises the people.

"'The king of England,' says he, 'holds _his_ crown' (for it does not
belong to the nation, according to Mr. Burke) 'in _contempt_ of the
choice of the Revolution Society,'" &c.

"As to who is king in England or elsewhere, or whether there is any king
at all, or whether the people choose a Cherokee chief or a Hessian
hussar for a king, it is not a matter that I trouble myself about,--be
that to themselves; but with respect to the doctrine, so far as it
relates to the rights of men and nations, it is as abominable as
anything ever uttered in the most enslaved country under heaven. Whether
it sounds worse to my ear, by not being accustomed to hear such
despotism, than what it does to the ear of another person, I am not so
well a judge of; but of its abominable principle I am at no loss to
judge."

These societies of modern Whigs push their insolence as far as it can
go. In order to prepare the minds of the people for treason and
rebellion, they represent the king as tainted with principles of
despotism, from the circumstance of his having dominions in Germany. In
direct defiance of the most notorious truth, they describe his
government there to be a despotism; whereas it is a free Constitution,
in which the states of the Electorate have their part in the government:
and this privilege has never been infringed by the king, or, that I have
heard of, by any of his predecessors. The Constitution of the Electoral
dominions has, indeed, a double control, both from the laws of the
Empire and from the privileges of the country. Whatever rights the king
enjoys as Elector have been always parentally exercised, and the
calumnies of these scandalous societies have not been authorized by a
single complaint of oppression.

"When Mr. Burke says that 'his Majesty's heirs and successors, each in
their time and order, will come to the crown with the _same contempt_ of
their choice with which his Majesty has succeeded to that he wears,' it
is saying too much even to the humblest individual in the country, part
of whose daily labor goes towards making up the million sterling a year
which the country gives the person it styles a king. Government with
insolence is despotism; but when contempt is added, it becomes worse;
and to pay for contempt is the excess of slavery. This species of
government comes from Germany, and reminds me of what one of the
Brunswick soldiers told me, who was taken prisoner by the Americans in
the late war. 'Ah!' said he, 'America is a fine free country: it is
worth the people's fighting for. I know the difference by knowing my
own: in my country, _if the prince says, "Eat straw" we eat straw_.' God
help that country, thought I, be it England, or elsewhere, whose
liberties are to be protected by _German principles of government and
princes of Brunswick_!"

"It is somewhat curious to observe, that, although the people of England
have been in the habit of talking about kings, it is always a foreign
house of kings,--hating foreigners, yet governed by them. It is now the
House of Brunswick, one of the petty tribes of Germany."

"If government be what Mr. Burke describes it, 'a contrivance of human
wisdom,' I might ask him if wisdom was at such a low ebb in England that
it was become necessary to import it from Holland and from Hanover? But
I will do the country the justice to say, that was not the case; and
even if it was, it mistook the cargo. The wisdom of every country, when
properly exerted, is sufficient for all its purposes; _and there could
exist no more real occasion in England to have sent for a Dutch
Stadtholder or a German Elector_ than there was in America to have done
a similar thing. If a country does not understand its own affairs, how
is a foreigner to understand them, who knows neither its laws, its
manners, nor its language? If there existed a man so transcendently wise
above all others that his wisdom was necessary to instruct a nation,
some reason might be offered for monarchy; but when we cast our eyes
about a country, and observe how every part understands its own
affairs, and when we look around the world, and see, that, of all men in
it, the race of kings are the most insignificant in capacity, our reason
cannot fail to ask us, What are those men kept for?"[20]

       *       *       *       *       *

These are the notions which, under the idea of Whig principles, several
persons, and among them persons of no mean mark, have associated
themselves to propagate. I will not attempt in the smallest degree to
refute them. This will probably be done (if such writings shall be
thought to deserve any other than the refutation of criminal justice) by
others, who may think with Mr. Burke. He has performed his part.

I do not wish to enter very much at large into the discussions which
diverge and ramify in all ways from this productive subject. But there
is one topic upon which I hope I shall be excused in going a little
beyond my design. The factions now so busy amongst us, in order to
divest men of all love for their country, and to remove from their minds
all duty with regard to the state, endeavor to propagate an opinion,
that the _people_, in forming their commonwealth, have by no means
parted with their power over it. This is an impregnable citadel, to
which these gentlemen retreat, whenever they are pushed by the battery
of laws and usages and positive conventions. Indeed, it is such, and of
so great force, that all they have done in defending their outworks is
so much time and labor thrown away. Discuss any of their schemes, their
answer is, It is the act of the _people_, and that is sufficient. Are
we to deny to a _majority_ of the people the right of altering even the
whole frame of their society, if such should be their pleasure? They may
change it, say they, from a monarchy to a republic to-day, and to-morrow
back again from a republic to a monarchy; and so backward and forward as
often as they like. They are masters of the commonwealth, because in
substance they are themselves the commonwealth. The French Revolution,
say they, was the act of the majority of the people; and if the majority
of any other people, the people of England, for instance, wish to make
the same change, they have the same right.

Just the same, undoubtedly. That is, none at all. Neither the few nor
the many have a right to act merely by their will, in any matter
connected with duty, trust, engagement, or obligation. The Constitution
of a country being once settled upon some compact, tacit or expressed,
there is no power existing of force to alter it, without the breach of
the covenant, or the consent of all the parties. Such is the nature of a
contract. And the votes of a majority of the people, whatever their
infamous flatterers may teach in order to corrupt their minds, cannot
alter the moral any more than they can alter the physical essence of
things. The people are not to be taught to think lightly of their
engagements to their governors; else they teach governors to think
lightly of their engagements towards them. In that kind of game, in the
end, the people are sure to be losers. To flatter them into a contempt
of faith, truth, and justice is to ruin them; for in these virtues
consists their whole safety. To flatter any man, or any part of mankind,
in any description, by asserting that in engagements he or they are
free, whilst any other human creature is bound, is ultimately to vest
the rule of morality in the pleasure of those who ought to be rigidly
submitted to it,--to subject the sovereign reason of the world to the
caprices of weak and giddy men.

But, as no one of us men can dispense with public or private faith, or
with any other tie of moral obligation, so neither can any number of us.
The number engaged in crimes, instead of turning them into laudable
acts, only augments the quantity and intensity of the guilt. I am well
aware that men love to hear of their power, but have an extreme
disrelish to be told of their duty. This is of course; because every
duty is a limitation of some power. Indeed, arbitrary power is so much
to the depraved taste of the vulgar, of the vulgar of every description,
that almost all the dissensions which lacerate the commonwealth are not
concerning the manner in which it is to be exercised, but concerning the
hands in which it is to be placed. Somewhere they are resolved to have
it. Whether they desire it to be vested in the many or the few depends
with most men upon the chance which they imagine they themselves may
have of partaking in the exercise of that arbitrary sway, in the one
mode or in the other.

It is not necessary to teach men to thirst after power. But it is very
expedient that by moral instruction they should be taught, and by their
civil constitutions they should be compelled, to put many restrictions
upon the immoderate exercise of it, and the inordinate desire. The best
method of obtaining these two great points forms the important, but at
the same time the difficult problem to the true statesman. He thinks of
the place in which political power is to be lodged with no other
attention than as it may render the more or the less practicable its
salutary restraint and its prudent direction. For this reason, no
legislator, at any period of the world, has willingly placed the seat of
active power in the hands of the multitude; because there it admits of
no control, no regulation, no steady direction whatsoever. The people
are the natural control on authority; but to exercise and to control
together is contradictory and impossible.

As the exorbitant exercise of power cannot, under popular sway, be
effectually restrained, the other great object of political arrangement,
the means of abating an excessive desire of it, is in such a state still
worse provided for. The democratic commonwealth is the foodful nurse of
ambition. Under the other forms it meets with many restraints. Whenever,
in states which have had a democratic basis, the legislators have
endeavored to put restraints upon ambition, their methods were as
violent as in the end they were ineffectual,--as violent, indeed, as any
the most jealous despotism could invent. The ostracism could not very
long save itself, and much less the state which it was meant to guard,
from the attempts of ambition,--one of the natural, inbred, incurable
distempers of a powerful democracy.

But to return from this short digression,--which, however, is not wholly
foreign to the question of the effect of the will of the majority upon
the form or the existence of their society. I cannot too often recommend
it to the serious consideration of all men who think civil society to be
within the province of moral jurisdiction, that, if we owe to it any
duty, it is not subject to our will. Duties are not voluntary. Duty and
will are even contradictory terms. Now, though civil society might be at
first a voluntary act, (which in many cases it undoubtedly was,) its
continuance is under a permanent standing covenant, coexisting with the
society; and it attaches upon every individual of that society, without
any formal act of his own. This is warranted by the general practice,
arising out of the general sense of mankind. Men without their choice
derive benefits from that association; without their choice they are
subjected to duties in consequence of these benefits; and without their
choice they enter into a virtual obligation as binding as any that is
actual. Look through the whole of life and the whole system of duties.
Much the strongest moral obligations are such as were never the results
of our option. I allow, that, if no Supreme Ruler exists, wise to form,
and potent to enforce, the moral law, there is no sanction to any
contract, virtual or even actual, against the will of prevalent power.
On that hypothesis, let any set of men be strong enough to set their
duties at defiance, and they cease to be duties any longer. We have but
this one appeal against irresistible power,--

    Si genus humanum et mortalia temnitis arma,
    At sperate Deos memores fandi atque nefandi.

Taking it for granted that I do not write to the disciples of the
Parisian philosophy, I may assume that the awful Author of our being is
the Author of our place in the order of existence,--and that, having
disposed and marshalled us by a divine tactic, not according to our
will, but according to His, He has in and by that disposition virtually
subjected us to act the part which belongs to the place assigned us. We
have obligations to mankind at large, which are not in consequence of
any special voluntary pact. They arise from the relation of man to man,
and the relation of man to God, which relations are not matters of
choice. On the contrary, the force of all the pacts which we enter into
with any particular person or number of persons amongst mankind depends
upon those prior obligations. In some cases the subordinate relations
are voluntary, in others they are necessary,--but the duties are all
compulsive. When we marry, the choice is voluntary, but the duties are
not matter of choice: they are dictated by the nature of the situation.
Dark and inscrutable are the ways by which we come into the world. The
instincts which give rise to this mysterious process of Nature are not
of our making. But out of physical causes, unknown to us, perhaps
unknowable, arise moral duties, which, as we are able perfectly to
comprehend, we are bound indispensably to perform. Parents may not be
consenting to their moral relation; but, consenting or not, they are
bound to a long train of burdensome duties towards those with whom they
have never made a convention of any sort. Children are not consenting to
their relation; but their relation, without their actual consent, binds
them to its duties,--or rather it implies their consent, because the
presumed consent of every rational creature is in unison with the
predisposed order of things. Men come in that manner into a community
with the social state of their parents, endowed with all the benefits,
loaded with all the duties of their situation. If the social ties and
ligaments, spun out of those physical relations which are the elements
of the commonwealth, in most cases begin, and always continue,
independently of our will, so, without any stipulation on our own part,
are we bound by that relation called our country, which comprehends (as
it has been well said) "all the charities of all."[21] Nor are we left
without powerful instincts to make this duty as dear and grateful to us
as it is awful and coercive. Our country is not a thing of mere physical
locality. It consists, in a great measure, in the ancient order into
which we are born. We may have the same geographical situation, but
another country; as we may have the same country in another soil. The
place that determines our duty to our country is a social, civil
relation.

These are the opinions of the author whose cause I defend. I lay them
down, not to enforce them upon others by disputation, but as an account
of his proceedings. On them he acts; and from them he is convinced that
neither he, nor any man, or number of men, have a right (except what
necessity, which is out of and above all rule, rather imposes than
bestows) to free themselves from that primary engagement into which
every man born into a community as much contracts by his being born into
it as he contracts an obligation to certain parents by his having been
derived from their bodies. The place of every man determines his duty.
If you ask, _Quem te Deus esse jussit_? you will be answered when you
resolve this other question, _Humana qua parte locatus es in re_?[22]

I admit, indeed, that in morals, as in all things else, difficulties
will sometimes occur. Duties will sometimes cross one another. Then
questions will arise, which of them is to be placed in subordination?
which of them may be entirely superseded? These doubts give rise to that
part of moral science called _casuistry_, which though necessary to be
well studied by those who would become expert in that learning, who aim
at becoming what I think Cicero somewhere calls _artifices officiorum_,
it requires a very solid and discriminating judgment, great modesty and
caution, and much sobriety of mind in the handling; else there is a
danger that it may totally subvert those offices which it is its object
only to methodize and reconcile. Duties, at their extreme bounds, are
drawn very fine, so as to become almost evanescent. In that state some
shade of doubt will always rest on these questions, when they are
pursued with great subtilty. But the very habit of stating these extreme
cases is not very laudable or safe; because, in general, it is not right
to turn our duties into doubts. They are imposed to govern our conduct,
not to exercise our ingenuity; and therefore our opinions about them
ought not to be in a state of fluctuation, but steady, sure, and
resolved.

Amongst these nice, and therefore dangerous points of casuistry, may be
reckoned the question so much agitated in the present hour,--Whether,
after the people have discharged themselves of their original power by
an habitual delegation, no occasion can possibly occur which may
justify the resumption of it? This question, in this latitude, is very
hard to affirm or deny: but I am satisfied that no occasion can justify
such a resumption, which would not equally authorize a dispensation with
any other moral duty, perhaps with all of them together. However, if in
general it be not easy to determine concerning the lawfulness of such
devious proceedings, which must be ever on the edge of crimes, it is far
from difficult to foresee the perilous consequences of the resuscitation
of such a power in the people. The practical consequences of any
political tenet go a great way in deciding upon its value. Political
problems do not primarily concern truth or falsehood. They relate to
good or evil. What in the result is likely to produce evil is
politically false; that which is productive of good, politically true.

Believing it, therefore, a question at least arduous in the theory, and
in the practice very critical, it would become us to ascertain as well
as we can what form it is that our incantations are about to call up
from darkness and the sleep of ages. When the supreme authority of the
people is in question, before we attempt to extend or to confine it, we
ought to fix in our minds, with some degree of distinctness, an idea of
what it is we mean, when we say, the PEOPLE.

In a state of _rude_ Nature there is no such thing as a people. A number
of men in themselves have no collective capacity. The idea of a people
is the idea of a corporation. It is wholly artificial, and made, like
all other legal fictions, by common agreement. What the particular
nature of that agreement was is collected from the form into which the
particular society has been cast. Any other is not _their_ covenant.
When men, therefore, break up the original compact or agreement which
gives its corporate form and capacity to a state, they are no longer a
people,--they have no longer a corporate existence,--they have no longer
a legal coactive force to bind within, nor a claim to be recognized
abroad. They are a number of vague, loose individuals, and nothing more.
With them all is to begin again. Alas! they little know how many a weary
step is to be taken before they can form themselves into a mass which
has a true politic personality.

We hear much, from men who have not acquired their hardiness of
assertion from the profundity of their thinking, about the omnipotence
of a _majority_, in such a dissolution of an ancient society as hath
taken place in France. But amongst men so disbanded there can be no such
thing as majority or minority, or power in any one person to bind
another. The power of acting by a majority, which the gentlemen
theorists seem to assume so readily, after they have violated the
contract out of which it has arisen, (if at all it existed,) must be
grounded on two assumptions: first, that of an incorporation produced by
unanimity; and secondly, an unanimous agreement that the act of a mere
majority (say of one) shall pass with them and with others as the act of
the whole.

We are so little affected by things which are habitual, that we consider
this idea of the decision of a _majority_ as if it were a law of our
original nature. But such constructive whole, residing in a part only,
is one of the most violent fictions of positive law that ever has been
or can be made on the principles of artificial incorporation. Out of
civil society Nature knows nothing of it; nor are men, even when
arranged according to civil order, otherwise than by very long training,
brought at all to submit to it. The mind is brought far more easily to
acquiesce in the proceedings of one man, or a few, who act under a
general procuration for the state, than in the vote of a victorious
majority in councils in which every man has his share in the
deliberation. For there the beaten party are exasperated and soured by
the previous contention, and mortified by the conclusive defeat. This
mode of decision, where wills may be so nearly equal, where, according
to circumstances, the smaller number may be the stronger force, and
where apparent reason may be all upon one side, and on the other little
else than impetuous appetite,--all this must be the result of a very
particular and special convention, confirmed afterwards by long habits
of obedience, by a sort of discipline in society, and by a strong hand,
vested with stationary, permanent power to enforce this sort of
constructive general will. What organ it is that shall declare the
corporate mind is so much a matter of positive arrangement, that several
states, for the validity of several of their acts, have required a
proportion of voices much greater than that of a mere majority. These
proportions are so entirely governed by convention that in some cases
the minority decides. The laws in many countries to _condemn_ require
more than a mere majority; less than an equal number to _acquit_. In our
judicial trials we require unanimity either to condemn or to absolve. In
some incorporations one man speaks for the whole; in others, a few.
Until the other day, in the Constitution of Poland unanimity was
required to give validity to any act of their great national council or
diet. This approaches much more nearly to rude Nature than the
institutions of any other country. Such, indeed, every commonwealth must
be, without a positive law to recognize in a certain number the will of
the entire body.

If men dissolve their ancient incorporation in order to regenerate their
community, in that state of things each man has a right, if he pleases,
to remain an individual. Any number of individuals, who can agree upon
it, have an undoubted right to form themselves into a state apart and
wholly independent. If any of these is forced into the fellowship of
another, this is conquest and not compact. On every principle which
supposes society to be in virtue of a free covenant, this compulsive
incorporation must be null and void.

As a people can have no right to a corporate capacity without universal
consent, so neither have they a right to hold exclusively any lands in
the name and title of a corporation. On the scheme of the present rulers
in our neighboring country, regenerated as they are, they have no more
right to the territory called France than I have. I have a right to
pitch my tent in any unoccupied place I can find for it; and I may apply
to my own maintenance any part of their unoccupied soil. I may purchase
the house or vineyard of any individual proprietor who refuses his
consent (and most proprietors have, as far as they dared, refused it) to
the new incorporation. I stand in his independent place. Who are these
insolent men, calling themselves the French nation, that would
monopolize this fair domain of Nature? Is it because they speak a
certain jargon? Is it their mode of chattering, to me unintelligible,
that forms their title to my land? Who are they who claim by
prescription and descent from certain gangs of banditti called Franks,
and Burgundians, and Visigoths, of whom I may have never heard, and
ninety-nine out of an hundred of themselves certainly never have heard,
whilst at the very time they tell me that prescription and long
possession form no title to property? Who are they that presume to
assert that the land which I purchased of the individual, a natural
person, and not a fiction of state, belongs to them, who in the very
capacity in which they make their claim can exist only as an imaginary
being, and in virtue of the very prescription which they reject and
disown? This mode of arguing might be pushed into all the detail, so as
to leave no sort of doubt, that, on their principles, and on the sort of
footing on which they have thought proper to place themselves, the crowd
of men, on the other side of the Channel, who have the impudence to call
themselves a people, can never be the lawful, exclusive possessors of
the soil. By what they call reasoning without prejudice, they leave not
one stone upon another in the fabric of human society. They subvert all
the authority which they hold, as well as all that which they have
destroyed.

As in the abstract it is perfectly clear, that, out of a state of civil
society, majority and minority are relations which can have no
existence, and that, in civil society, its own specific conventions in
each corporation determine what it is that constitutes the people, so as
to make their act the signification of the general will,--to come to
particulars, it is equally clear that neither in France nor in England
has the original or any subsequent compact of the state, expressed or
implied, constituted _a majority of men, told by the head_, to be the
acting people of their several communities. And I see as little of
policy or utility as there is of right, in laying down a principle that
a majority of men told by the head are to be considered as the people,
and that as such their will is to be law. What policy can there be found
in arrangements made in defiance of every political principle? To enable
men to act with the weight and character of a people, and to answer the
ends for which they are incorporated into that capacity, we must suppose
them (by means immediate or consequential) to be in that state of
habitual social discipline in which the wiser, the more expert, and the
more opulent conduct, and by conducting enlighten and protect, the
weaker, the less knowing, and the less provided with the goods of
fortune. When the multitude are not under this discipline, they can
scarcely be said to be in civil society. Give once a certain
constitution of things which produces a variety of conditions and
circumstances in a state, and there is in Nature and reason a principle
which, for their own benefit, postpones, not the interest, but the
judgment, of those who are _numero plures_, to those who are _virtute et
honore majores_. Numbers in a state (supposing, which is not the case in
France, that a state does exist) are always of consideration,--but they
are not the whole consideration. It is in things more serious than a
play, that it may be truly said, _Satis est equitem mihi plaudere_.

A true natural aristocracy is not a separate interest in the state, or
separable from it. It is an essential integrant part of any large body
rightly constituted. It is formed out of a class of legitimate
presumptions, which, taken as generalities, must be admitted for actual
truths. To be bred in a place of estimation; to see nothing low and
sordid from one's infancy; to be taught to respect one's self; to be
habituated to the censorial inspection of the public eye; to look early
to public opinion; to stand upon such elevated ground as to be enabled
to take a large view of the wide-spread and infinitely diversified
combinations of men and affairs in a large society; to have leisure to
read, to reflect, to converse; to be enabled to draw the court and
attention of the wise and learned, wherever they are to be found; to be
habituated in armies to command and to obey; to be taught to despise
danger in the pursuit of honor and duty; to be formed to the greatest
degree of vigilance, foresight, and circumspection, in a state of things
in which no fault is committed with impunity and the slightest mistakes
draw on the most ruinous consequences; to be led to a guarded and
regulated conduct, from a sense that you are considered as an instructor
of your fellow-citizens in their highest concerns, and that you act as a
reconciler between God and man; to be employed as an administrator of
law and justice, and to be thereby amongst the first benefactors to
mankind; to be a professor of high science, or of liberal and ingenuous
art; to be amongst rich traders, who from their success are presumed to
have sharp and vigorous understandings, and to possess the virtues of
diligence, order, constancy, and regularity, and to have cultivated an
habitual regard to commutative justice: these are the circumstances of
men that form what I should call a _natural_ aristocracy, without which
there is no nation.

The state of civil society which necessarily generates this aristocracy
is a state of Nature,--and much more truly so than a savage and
incoherent mode of life. For man is by nature reasonable; and he is
never perfectly in his natural state, but when he is placed where reason
may be best cultivated and most predominates. Art is man's nature. We
are as much, at least, in a state of Nature in formed manhood as in
immature and helpless infancy. Men, qualified in the manner I have just
described, form in Nature, as she operates in the common modification of
society, the leading, guiding, and governing part. It is the soul to the
body, without which the man does not exist. To give, therefore, no more
importance, in the social order, to such descriptions of men than that
of so many units is a horrible usurpation.

When great multitudes act together, under that discipline of Nature, I
recognize the PEOPLE. I acknowledge something that perhaps equals, and
ought always to guide, the sovereignty of convention. In all things the
voice of this grand chorus of national harmony ought to have a mighty
and decisive influence. But when you disturb this harmony,--when you
break up this beautiful order, this array of truth and Nature, as well
as of habit and prejudice,--when you separate the common sort of men
from their proper chieftains, so as to form them into an adverse
army,--I no longer know that venerable object called the people in such
a disbanded race of deserters and vagabonds. For a while they may be
terrible, indeed,--but in such a manner as wild beasts are terrible. The
mind owes to them no sort of submission. They are, as they have always
been reputed, rebels. They may lawfully be fought with, and brought
under, whenever an advantage offers. Those who attempt by outrage and
violence to deprive men of any advantage which they hold under the
laws, and to destroy the natural order of life, proclaim war against
them.

We have read in history of that furious insurrection of the common
people in France called the _Jacquerie_: for this is not the first time
that the people have been enlightened into treason, murder, and rapine.
Its object was to extirpate the gentry. The Captal de Buch, a famous
soldier of those days, dishonored the name of a gentleman and of a man
by taking, for their cruelties, a cruel vengeance on these deluded
wretches: it was, however, his right and his duty to make war upon them,
and afterwards, in moderation, to bring them to punishment for their
rebellion; though in the sense of the French Revolution, and of some of
our clubs, they were the _people_,--and were truly so, if you will call
by that appellation _any majority of men told by the head_.

At a time not very remote from the same period (for these humors never
have affected one of the nations without some influence on the other)
happened several risings of the lower commons in England. These
insurgents were certainly the majority of the inhabitants of the
counties in which they resided; and Cade, Ket, and Straw, at the head of
their national guards, and fomented by certain traitors of high rank,
did no more than exert, according to the doctrines of ours and the
Parisian societies, the sovereign power inherent in the majority.

We call the time of those events a dark age. Indeed, we are too
indulgent to our own proficiency. The Abbé John Ball understood the
rights of man as well as the Abbé Grégoire. That reverend patriarch of
sedition, and prototype of our modern preachers, was of opinion, with
the National Assembly, that all the evils which have fallen upon men had
been caused by an ignorance of their "having been born and continued
equal as to their rights." Had the populace been able to repeat that
profound maxim, all would have gone perfectly well with them. No
tyranny, no vexation, no oppression, no care, no sorrow, could have
existed in the world. This would have cured them like a charm for the
tooth-ache. But the lowest wretches, in their most ignorant state, were
able at all times to talk such stuff; and yet at all times have they
suffered many evils and many oppressions, both before and since the
republication by the National Assembly of this spell of healing potency
and virtue. The enlightened Dr. Ball, when he wished to rekindle the
lights and fires of his audience on this point, chose for the test the
following couplet:--

    When Adam delved and Eve span,
    Who was then the gentleman?

Of this sapient maxim, however, I do not give him for the inventor. It
seems to have been handed down by tradition, and had certainly become
proverbial; but whether then composed or only applied, thus much must be
admitted, that in learning, sense, energy, and comprehensiveness, it is
fully equal to all the modern dissertations on the equality of mankind:
and it has one advantage over them,--that it is in rhyme.[23]

There is no doubt but that this great teacher of the rights of man
decorated his discourse on this valuable text with lemmas, theorems,
scholia, corollaries, and all the apparatus of science, which was
furnished in as great plenty and perfection out of the dogmatic and
polemic magazines, the old horse-armory of the Schoolmen, among whom the
Rev. Dr. Ball was bred, as they can be supplied from the new arsenal at
Hackney. It was, no doubt, disposed with all the adjutancy of
definition and division, in which (I speak it with submission) the old
marshals were as able as the modern martinets. Neither can we deny that
the philosophic auditory, when they had once obtained this knowledge,
could never return to their former ignorance, or after so instructive a
lecture be in the same state of mind as if they had never heard it.[24]
But these poor people, who were not to be envied for their knowledge,
but pitied for their delusion, were not reasoned, (that was impossible,)
but beaten, out of their lights. With their teacher they were delivered
over to the lawyers, who wrote in their blood the statutes of the land,
as harshly, and in the same sort of ink, as they and their teachers had
written the rights of man.

Our doctors of the day are not so fond of quoting the opinions of this
ancient sage as they are of imitating his conduct: first, because it
might appear that they are not as great inventors as they would be
thought; and next, because, unfortunately for his fame, he was not
successful. It is a remark liable to as few exceptions as any generality
can be, that they who applaud prosperous folly and adore triumphant
guilt have never been known to succor or even to pity human weakness or
offence, when they become subject to human vicissitude, and meet with
punishment instead of obtaining power. Abating for their want of
sensibility to the sufferings of their associates, they are not so much
in the wrong; for madness and wickedness are things foul and deformed in
themselves, and stand in need of all the coverings and trappings of
fortune to recommend them to the multitude. Nothing can be more
loathsome in their naked nature.

Aberrations like these, whether ancient or modern, unsuccessful or
prosperous, are things of passage. They furnish no argument for
supposing _a multitude told by the head to be the people_. Such a
multitude can have no sort of title to alter the seat of power in the
society, in which it ever ought to be the obedient, and not the ruling
or presiding part. What power may belong to the whole mass, in which
mass the natural _aristocracy_, or what by convention is appointed to
represent and strengthen it, acts in its proper place, with its proper
weight, and without being subjected to violence, is a deeper question.
But in that case, and with that concurrence, I should have much doubt
whether any rash or desperate changes in the state, such as we have seen
in France, could ever be effected.

I have said that in all political questions the consequences of any
assumed rights are of great moment in deciding upon their validity. In
this point of view let us a little scrutinize the effects of a right in
the mere majority of the inhabitants of any country of superseding and
altering their government _at pleasure_.

The sum total of every people is composed of its units. Every individual
must have a right to originate what afterwards is to become the act of
the majority. Whatever he may lawfully originate he may lawfully
endeavor to accomplish. He has a right, therefore, in his own
particular, to break the ties and engagements which bind him to the
country in which he lives; and he has a right to make as many converts
to his opinions, and to obtain as many associates in his designs, as he
can procure: for how can you know the dispositions of the majority to
destroy their government, but by tampering with some part of the body?
You must begin by a secret conspiracy, that you may end with a national
confederation. The mere pleasure of the beginner must be the sole guide;
since the mere pleasure of others must be the sole ultimate sanction, as
well as the sole actuating principle in every part of the progress.
Thus, arbitrary will (the last corruption of ruling power) step by step
poisons the heart of every citizen. If the undertaker fails, he has the
misfortune of a rebel, but not the guilt. By such doctrines, all love to
our country, all pious veneration and attachment to its laws and
customs, are obliterated from our minds; and nothing can result from
this opinion, when grown into a principle, and animated by discontent,
ambition, or enthusiasm, but a series of conspiracies and seditions,
sometimes ruinous to their authors, always noxious to the state. No
sense of duty can prevent any man from being a leader or a follower in
such enterprises. Nothing restrains the tempter; nothing guards the
tempted. Nor is the new state, fabricated by such arts, safer than the
old. What can prevent the mere will of any person, who hopes to unite
the wills of others to his own, from an attempt wholly to overturn it?
It wants nothing but a disposition to trouble the established order, to
give a title to the enterprise.

When you combine this principle of the right to change a fixed and
tolerable constitution of things at pleasure with the theory and
practice of the French Assembly, the political, civil, and moral
irregularity are, if possible, aggravated. The Assembly have found
another road, and a far more commodious, to the destruction of an old
government, and the legitimate formation of a new one, than through the
previous will of the majority of what they call the people. Get, say
they, the possession of power by any means you can into your hands; and
then, a subsequent consent (what they call an _address of adhesion_)
makes your authority as much the act of the people as if they had
conferred upon you originally that kind and degree of power which
without their permission you had seized upon. This is to give a direct
sanction to fraud, hypocrisy, perjury, and the breach of the most sacred
trusts that can exist between man and man. What can sound with such
horrid discordance in the moral ear as this position,--that a delegate
with limited powers may break his sworn engagements to his constituent,
assume an authority, never committed to him, to alter all things at his
pleasure, and then, if he can persuade a large number of men to flatter
him in the power he has usurped, that he is absolved in his own
conscience, and ought to stand acquitted in the eyes of mankind? On this
scheme, the maker of the experiment must begin with a determined
perjury. That point is certain. He must take his chance for the
expiatory addresses. This is to make the success of villany the
standard of innocence.

Without drawing on, therefore, very shocking consequences, neither by
previous consent, nor by subsequent ratification of a _mere reckoned
majority_, can any set of men attempt to dissolve the state at their
pleasure. To apply this to our present subject. When the several orders,
in their several bailliages, had met in the year 1789, (such of them, I
mean, as had met peaceably and constitutionally,) to choose and to
instruct their representatives, so organized and so acting, (because
they were organized and were acting according to the conventions which
made them a people,) they were the _people_ of France. They had a legal
and a natural capacity to be considered as that people. But observe,
whilst they were in this state, that is, whilst they were a people, in
no one of their instructions did they charge or even hint at any of
those things which have drawn upon the usurping Assembly and their
adherents the detestation of the rational and thinking part of mankind.
I will venture to affirm, without the least apprehension of being
contradicted by any person who knows the then state of France, that, if
any one of the changes were proposed, which form the fundamental parts
of their Revolution, and compose its most distinguishing acts, it would
not have had one vote in twenty thousand in any order. Their
instructions purported the direct contrary to all those famous
proceedings which are defended as the acts of the people. Had such
proceedings been expected, the great probability is, that the people
would then have risen, as to a man, to prevent them. The whole
organization of the Assembly was altered, the whole frame of the
kingdom was changed, before these things could be done. It is long to
tell, by what evil arts of the conspirators, and by what extreme
weakness and want of steadiness in the lawful government, this equal
usurpation on the rights of the prince and people, having first cheated,
and then offered violence to both, has been able to triumph, and to
employ with success the forged signature of an imprisoned sovereign, and
the spurious voice of dictated addresses, to a subsequent ratification
of things that had never received any previous sanction, general or
particular, expressed or implied, from the nation, (in whatever sense
that word is taken,) or from any part of it.

After the weighty and respectable part of the people had been murdered,
or driven by the menaces of murder from their houses, or were dispersed
in exile into every country in Europe,--after the soldiery had been
debauched from their officers,--after property had lost its weight and
consideration, along with its security,--after voluntary clubs and
associations of factious and unprincipled men were substituted in the
place of all the legal corporations of the kingdom arbitrarily
dissolved,--after freedom had been banished from those popular
meetings[25] whose sole recommendation is freedom,--after it had come to
that pass that no dissent dared to appear in any of them, but at the
certain price of life,--after even dissent had been anticipated, and
assassination became as quick as suspicion,--such pretended ratification
by addresses could be no act of what any lover of the people would
choose to call by their name. It is that voice which every successful
usurpation, as well as this before us, may easily procure, even without
making (as these tyrants have made) donatives from the spoil of one part
of the citizens to corrupt the other.

The pretended _rights of man_, which have made this havoc, cannot be the
rights of the people. For to be a people, and to have these rights, are
things incompatible. The one supposes the presence, the other the
absence, of a state of civil society. The very foundation of the French
commonwealth is false and self-destructive; nor can its principles be
adopted in any country, without the certainty of bringing it to the very
same condition in which France is found. Attempts are made to introduce
them into every nation in Europe. This nation, as possessing the
greatest influence, they wish most to corrupt, as by that means they are
assured the contagion must become general. I hope, therefore, I shall be
excused, if I endeavor to show, as shortly as the matter will admit, the
danger of giving to them, either avowedly or tacitly, the smallest
countenance.

There are times and circumstances in which not to speak out is at least
to connive. Many think it enough for them, that the principles
propagated by these clubs and societies, enemies to their country and
its Constitution, are not owned by the _modern Whigs in Parliament_, who
are so warm in condemnation of Mr. Burke and his book, and of course of
all the principles of the ancient, constitutional Whigs of this kingdom.
Certainly they are not owned. But are they condemned with the same zeal
as Mr. Burke and his book are condemned? Are they condemned at all? Are
they rejected or discountenanced in any way whatsoever? Is any man who
would fairly examine into the demeanor and principles of those
societies, and that too very moderately, and in the way rather of
admonition than of punishment, is such a man even decently treated? Is
he not reproached as if in condemning such principles he had belied the
conduct of his whole life, suggesting that his life had been governed by
principles similar to those which he now reprobates? The French system
is in the mean time, by many active agents out of doors, rapturously
praised; the British Constitution is coldly tolerated. But these
Constitutions are different both in the foundation and in the whole
superstructure; and it is plain that you cannot build up the one but on
the ruins of the other. After all, if the French be a superior system of
liberty, why should we not adopt it? To what end are our praises? Is
excellence held out to us only that we should not copy after it? And
what is there in the manners of the people, or in the climate of France,
which renders that species of republic fitted for them, and unsuitable
to us? A strong and marked difference between the two nations ought to
be shown, before we can admit a constant, affected panegyric, a
standing, annual commemoration, to be without any tendency to an
example.

But the leaders of party will not go the length of the doctrines taught
by the seditious clubs. I am sure they do not mean to do so. God forbid!
Perhaps even those who are directly carrying on the work of this
pernicious foreign faction do not all of them intend to produce all the
mischiefs which must inevitably follow from their having any success in
their proceedings. As to leaders in parties, nothing is more common than
to see them blindly led. The world is governed by go-betweens. These
go-betweens influence the persons with whom they carry on the
intercourse, by stating their own sense to each of them as the sense of
the other; and thus they reciprocally master both sides. It is first
buzzed about the ears of leaders, "that their friends without doors are
very eager for some measure, or very warm about some opinion,--that you
must not be too rigid with them. They are useful persons, and zealous in
the cause. They may be a little wrong, but the spirit of liberty must
not be damped; and by the influence you obtain from some degree of
concurrence with them at present, you may be enabled to set them right
hereafter."

Thus the leaders are at first drawn to a connivance with sentiments and
proceedings often totally different from their serious and deliberate
notions. But their acquiescence answers every purpose.

With no better than such powers, the go-betweens assume a new
representative character. What at best was but an acquiescence is
magnified into an authority, and thence into a desire on the part of the
leaders; and it is carried down as such to the subordinate members of
parties. By this artifice they in their turn are led into measures which
at first, perhaps, few of them wished at all, or at least did not desire
vehemently or systematically.

There is in all parties, between the principal leaders in Parliament and
the lowest followers out of doors, a middle sort of men, a sort of
equestrian order, who, by the spirit of that middle situation, are the
fittest for preventing things from running to excess. But indecision,
though a vice of a totally different character, is the natural
accomplice of violence. The irresolution and timidity of those who
compose this middle order often prevents the effect of their
controlling situation. The fear of differing with the authority of
leaders on the one hand, and of contradicting the desires of the
multitude on the other, induces them to give a careless and passive
assent to measures in which they never were consulted; and thus things
proceed, by a sort of activity of inertness, until whole bodies,
leaders, middle-men, and followers, are all hurried, with every
appearance and with many of the effects of unanimity, into schemes of
politics, in the substance of which no two of them were ever fully
agreed, and the origin and authors of which, in this circular mode of
communication, none of them find it possible to trace. In my experience,
I have seen much of this in affairs which, though trifling in comparison
to the present, were yet of some importance to parties; and I have known
them suffer by it. The sober part give their sanction, at first through
inattention and levity; at last they give it through necessity. A
violent spirit is raised, which the presiding minds after a time find it
impracticable to stop at their pleasure, to control, to regulate, or
even to direct.

This shows, in my opinion, how very quick and awakened all men ought to
be, who are looked up to by the public, and who deserve that confidence,
to prevent a surprise on their opinions, when dogmas are spread and
projects pursued by which the foundations of society may be affected.
Before they listen even to moderate alterations in the government of
their country, they ought to take care that principles are not
propagated for that purpose which are too big for their object.
Doctrines limited in their present application, and wide in their
general principles, are never meant to be confined to what they at
first pretend. If I were to form a prognostic of the effect of the
present machinations on the people from their sense of any grievance
they suffer under this Constitution, my mind would be at ease. But there
is a wide difference between the multitude, when they act against their
government from a sense of grievance or from zeal for some opinions.
When men are thoroughly possessed with that zeal, it is difficult to
calculate its force. It is certain that its power is by no means in
exact proportion to its reasonableness. It must always have been
discoverable by persons of reflection, but it is now obvious to the
world, that a theory concerning government may become as much a cause of
fanaticism as a dogma in religion. There is a boundary to men's
passions, when they act from feeling; none when they are under the
influence of imagination. Remove a grievance, and, when men act from
feeling, you go a great way towards quieting a commotion. But the good
or bad conduct of a government, the protection men have enjoyed or the
oppression they have suffered under it, are of no sort of moment, when a
faction, proceeding upon speculative grounds, is thoroughly heated
against its form. When a man is from system furious against monarchy or
episcopacy, the good conduct of the monarch or the bishop has no other
effect than further to irritate the adversary. He is provoked at it as
furnishing a plea for preserving the thing which he wishes to destroy.
His mind will be heated as much by the sight of a sceptre, a mace, or a
verge, as if he had been daily bruised and wounded by these symbols of
authority. Mere spectacles, mere names, will become sufficient causes to
stimulate the people to war and tumult.

Some gentlemen are not terrified by the facility with which government
has been overturned in France. "The people of France," they say, "had
nothing to lose in the destruction of a bad Constitution; but, though
not the best possible, we have still a good stake in ours, which will
hinder us from desperate risks." Is this any security at all against
those who seem to persuade themselves, and who labor to persuade others,
that our Constitution is an usurpation in its origin, unwise in its
contrivance, mischievous in its effects, contrary to the rights of man,
and in all its parts a perfect nuisance? What motive has any rational
man, who thinks in that manner, to spill his blood, or even to risk a
shilling of his fortune, or to waste a moment of his leisure, to
preserve it? If he has any duty relative to it, his duty is to destroy
it. A Constitution on sufferance is a Constitution condemned. Sentence
is already passed upon it. The execution is only delayed. On the
principles of these gentlemen, it neither has nor ought to have any
security. So far as regards them, it is left naked, without friends,
partisans, assertors, or protectors.

Let us examine into the value of this security upon the principles of
those who are more sober,--of those who think, indeed, the French
Constitution better, or at least as good as the British, without going
to all the lengths of the warmer politicians in reprobating their own.
Their security amounts in reality to nothing more than this,--that the
difference between their republican system and the British limited
monarchy is not worth a civil war. This opinion, I admit, will prevent
people not very enterprising in their nature from an active undertaking
against the British Constitution. But it is the poorest defensive
principle that ever was infused into the mind of man against the
attempts of those who will enterprise. It will tend totally to remove
from their minds that very terror of a civil war which is held out as
our sole security. They who think so well of the French Constitution
certainly will not be the persons to carry on a war to prevent their
obtaining a great benefit, or at worst a fair exchange. They will not go
to battle in favor of a cause in which their defeat might be more
advantageous to the public than their victory. They must at least
tacitly abet those who endeavor to make converts to a sound opinion;
they must discountenance those who would oppose its propagation. In
proportion as by these means the enterprising party is strengthened, the
dread of a struggle is lessened. See what an encouragement this is to
the enemies of the Constitution! A few assassinations and a very great
destruction of property we know they consider as no real obstacles in
the way of a grand political change. And they will hope, that here, if
antimonarchical opinions gain ground as they have done in France, they
may, as in France, accomplish a revolution without a war.

They who think so well of the French Constitution cannot be seriously
alarmed by any progress made by its partisans. Provisions for security
are not to be received from those who think that there is no danger. No!
there is no plan of security to be listened to but from those who
entertain the same fears with ourselves,--from those who think that the
thing to be secured is a great blessing, and the thing against which we
would secure it a great mischief. Every person of a different opinion
must be careless about security.

I believe the author of the Reflections, whether he fears the designs of
that set of people with reason or not, cannot prevail on himself to
despise them. He cannot despise them for their numbers, which, though
small, compared with the sound part of the community, are not
inconsiderable: he cannot look with contempt on their influence, their
activity, or the kind of talents and tempers which they possess, exactly
calculated for the work they have in hand and the minds they chiefly
apply to. Do we not see their most considerable and accredited
ministers, and several of their party of weight and importance, active
in spreading mischievous opinions, in giving sanction to seditious
writings, in promoting seditious anniversaries? and what part of their
description has disowned them or their proceedings? When men,
circumstanced as these are, publicly declare such admiration of a
foreign Constitution, and such contempt of our own, it would be, in the
author of the Reflections, thinking as he does of the French
Constitution, infamously to cheat the rest of the nation to their ruin
to say there is no danger.

In estimating danger, we are obliged to take into our calculation the
character and disposition of the enemy into whose hands we may chance to
fall. The genius of this faction is easily discerned, by observing with
what a very different eye they have viewed the late foreign revolutions.
Two have passed before them: that of France, and that of Poland. The
state of Poland was such, that there could scarcely exist two opinions,
but that a reformation of its Constitution, even at some expense of
blood, might be seen without much disapprobation. No confusion could be
feared in such an enterprise; because the establishment to be reformed
was itself a state of confusion. A king without authority; nobles
without union or subordination; a people without arts, industry,
commerce, or liberty; no order within, no defence without; no effective
public force, but a foreign force, which entered, a naked country at
will, and disposed of everything at pleasure. Here was a state of things
which seemed to invite, and might perhaps justify, bold enterprise and
desperate experiment. But in what manner was this chaos brought into
order? The means were as striking to the imagination as satisfactory to
the reason and soothing to the moral sentiments. In contemplating that
change, humanity has everything to rejoice and to glory in,--nothing to
be ashamed of, nothing to suffer. So far as it has gone, it probably is
the most pure and defecated public good which ever has been conferred on
mankind. We have seen anarchy and servitude at once removed; a throne
strengthened for the protection of the people, without trenching on
their liberties; all foreign cabal banished, by changing the crown from
elective to hereditary; and what was a matter of pleasing wonder, we
have seen a reigning king, from an heroic love to his country, exerting
himself with all the toil, the dexterity, the management, the intrigue,
in favor of a family of strangers, with which ambitious men labor for
the aggrandizement of their own. Ten millions of men in a way of being
freed gradually, and therefore safely to themselves and the state, not
from civil or political chains, which, bad as they are, only fetter the
mind, but from substantial personal bondage. Inhabitants of cities,
before without privileges, placed in the consideration which belongs to
that improved and connecting situation of social life. One of the most
proud, numerous, and fierce bodies of nobility and gentry ever known in
the world arranged only in the foremost rank of free and generous
citizens. Not one man incurred loss or suffered degradation. All, from
the king to the day-laborer, were improved in their condition.
Everything was kept in its place and order; but in that place and order
everything was bettered. To add to this happy wonder, this unheard-of
conjunction of wisdom and fortune, not one drop of blood was spilled; no
treachery; no outrage; no system of slander more cruel than the sword;
no studied insults on religion, morals, or manners; no spoil; no
confiscation; no citizen beggared; none imprisoned; none exiled: the
whole was effected with a policy, a discretion, an unanimity and
secrecy, such as have never been before known on any occasion; but such
wonderful conduct was reserved for this glorious conspiracy in favor of
the true and genuine rights and interests of men. Happy people, if they
know to proceed as they have begun! Happy prince, worthy to begin with
splendor or to close with glory a race of patriots and of kings, and to
leave

    A name, which every wind to heaven would bear,
    Which men to speak, and angels joy to hear!

To finish all,--this great good, as in the instant it is, contains in it
the seeds of all further improvement, and may be considered as in a
regular progress, because founded on similar principles, towards the
stable excellence of a British Constitution.

Here was a matter for congratulation and for festive remembrance through
ages. Here moralists and divines might indeed relax in their temperance,
to exhilarate their humanity. But mark the character of our faction.
All their enthusiasm is kept for the French Revolution. They cannot
pretend that France had stood so much in need of a change as Poland.
They cannot pretend that Poland has not obtained a better system of
liberty or of government than it enjoyed before. They cannot assert that
the Polish Revolution cost more dearly than that of France to the
interests and feelings of multitudes of men. But the cold and
subordinate light in which they look upon the one, and the pains they
take to preach up the other of these Revolutions, leave us no choice in
fixing on their motives. Both Revolutions profess liberty as their
object; but in obtaining this object the one proceeds from anarchy to
order, the other from order to anarchy. The first secures its liberty by
establishing its throne; the other builds its freedom on the subversion
of its monarchy. In the one, their means are unstained by crimes, and
their settlement favors morality; in the other, vice and confusion are
in the very essence of their pursuit, and of their enjoyment. The
circumstances in which these two events differ must cause the difference
we make in their comparative estimation. These turn the scale with the
societies in favor of France. _Ferrum est quod amant_. The frauds, the
violences, the sacrileges, the havoc and ruin of families, the
dispersion and exile of the pride and flower of a great country, the
disorder, the confusion, the anarchy, the violation of property, the
cruel murders, the inhuman confiscations, and in the end the insolent
domination of bloody, ferocious, and senseless clubs,--these are the
things which they love and admire. What men admire and love they would
surely act. Let us see what is done in France; and then let us
undervalue any the slightest danger of falling into the hands of such a
merciless and savage faction!

"But the leaders of the factious societies are too wild to succeed in
this their undertaking." I hope so. But supposing them wild and absurd,
is there no danger but from wise and reflecting men? Perhaps the
greatest mischiefs that have happened in the world have happened from
persons as wild as those we think the wildest. In truth, they are the
fittest beginners of all great changes. Why encourage men in a
mischievous proceeding, because their absurdity may disappoint their
malice?--"But noticing them may give them consequence." Certainly. But
they are noticed; and they are noticed, not with reproof, but with that
kind of countenance which is given by an _apparent_ concurrence (not a
_real_ one, I am convinced) of a great party in the praises of the
object which they hold out to imitation.

But I hear a language still more extraordinary, and indeed of such a
nature as must suppose or leave us at their mercy. It is this:--"You
know their promptitude in writing, and their diligence in caballing; to
write, speak, or act against them will only stimulate them to new
efforts." This way of considering the principle of their conduct pays
but a poor compliment to these gentlemen. They pretend that their
doctrines are infinitely beneficial to mankind; but it seems they would
keep them to themselves, if they were not greatly provoked. They are
benevolent from spite. Their oracles are like those of Proteus, (whom
some people think they resemble in many particulars,) who never would
give his responses, unless you used him as ill as possible. These cats,
it seems, would not give out their electrical light without having
their backs well rubbed. But this is not to do them perfect justice.
They are sufficiently communicative. Had they been quiet, the propriety
of any agitation of topics on the origin and primary rights of
government, in opposition to their private sentiments, might possibly be
doubted. But, as it is notorious that they were proceeding as fast and
as far as time and circumstances would admit, both in their discussions
and cabals,--as it is not to be denied that they had opened a
correspondence with a foreign faction the most wicked the world ever
saw, and established anniversaries to commemorate the most monstrous,
cruel, and perfidious of all the proceedings of that faction,--the
question is, whether their conduct was to be regarded in silence, lest
our interference should render them outrageous. Then let them deal as
they please with the Constitution. Let the lady be passive, lest the
ravisher should be driven to force. Resistance will only increase his
desires. Yes, truly, if the resistance be feigned and feeble. But they
who are wedded to the Constitution will not act the part of wittols.
They will drive such seducers from the house on the first appearance of
their love-letters and offered assignations. But if the author of the
Reflections, though a vigilant, was not a discreet guardian of the
Constitution, let them who have the same regard to it show themselves as
vigilant and more skilful in repelling the attacks of seduction or
violence. Their freedom from jealousy is equivocal, and may arise as
well from indifference to the object as from confidence in her virtue.

On their principle, it is the resistance, and not the assault, which
produces the danger. I admit, indeed, that, if we estimated the danger
by the value of the writings, it would be little worthy of our
attention: contemptible these writings are in every sense. But they are
not the cause, they are the disgusting symptoms of a frightful
distemper. They are not otherwise of consequence than as they show the
evil habit of the bodies from whence they come. In that light the
meanest of them is a serious thing. If, however, I should underrate
them, and if the truth is, that they are not the result, but the cause,
of the disorders I speak of, surely those who circulate operative
poisons, and give to whatever force they have by their nature the
further operation of their authority and adoption, are to be censured,
watched, and, if possible, repressed.

At what distance the direct danger from such factions may be it is not
easy to fix. An adaptation of circumstances to designs and principles is
necessary. But these cannot be wanting for any long time, in the
ordinary course of sublunary affairs. Great discontents frequently arise
in the best constituted governments from causes which no human wisdom
can foresee and no human power can prevent. They occur at uncertain
periods, but at periods which are not commonly far asunder. Governments
of all kinds are administered only by men; and great mistakes, tending
to inflame these discontents, may concur. The indecision of those who
happen to rule at the critical time, their supine neglect, or their
precipitate and ill-judged attention, may aggravate the public
misfortunes. In such a state of things, the principles, now only sown,
will shoot out and vegetate in full luxuriance. In such circumstances
the minds of the people become sore and ulcerated. They are put out of
humor with all public men and all public parties; they are fatigued
with their dissensions; they are irritated at their coalitions; they are
made easily to believe (what much pains are taken to make them believe)
that all oppositions are factious, and all courtiers base and servile.
From their disgust at men, they are soon led to quarrel with their frame
of government, which they presume gives nourishment to the vices, real
or supposed, of those who administer in it. Mistaking malignity for
sagacity, they are soon led to cast off all hope from a good
administration of affairs, and come to think that all reformation
depends, not on a change of actors, but upon an alteration in the
machinery. Then will be felt the full effect of encouraging doctrines
which tend to make the citizens despise their Constitution. Then will be
felt the plenitude of the mischief of teaching the people to believe
that all ancient institutions are the results of ignorance, and that all
prescriptive government is in its nature usurpation. Then will be felt,
in all its energy, the danger of encouraging a spirit of litigation in
persons of that immature and imperfect state of knowledge which serves
to render them susceptible of doubts, but incapable of their solution.
Then will be felt, in all its aggravation, the pernicious consequence of
destroying all docility in the minds of those who are not formed for
finding their own way in the labyrinths of political theory, and are
made to reject the clew and to disdain the guide. Then will be felt, and
too late will be acknowledged, the ruin which follows the disjoining of
religion from the state, the separation of morality from policy, and the
giving conscience no concern and no coactive or coercive force in the
most material of all the social ties, the principle of our obligations
to government.

I know, too, that, besides this vain, contradictory, and
self-destructive security which some men derive from the habitual
attachment of the people to this Constitution, whilst they suffer it
with a sort of sportive acquiescence to be brought into contempt before
their faces, they have other grounds for removing all apprehension from
their minds. They are of opinion that there are too many men of great
hereditary estates and influence in the kingdom to suffer the
establishment of the levelling system which has taken place in France.
This is very true, if, in order to guide the power which now attends
their property, these men possess the wisdom which is involved in early
fear. But if, through a supine security, to which such fortunes are
peculiarly liable, they neglect the use of their influence in the season
of their power, on the first derangement of society the nerves of their
strength will be cut. Their estates, instead of being the means of their
security, will become the very causes of their danger. Instead of
bestowing influence, they will excite rapacity. They will be looked to
as a prey.

Such will be the impotent condition of those men of great hereditary
estates, who indeed dislike the designs that are carried on, but whose
dislike is rather that of spectators than of parties that may be
concerned in the catastrophe of the piece. But riches do not in all
cases secure even an inert and passive resistance. There are always in
that description men whose fortunes, when their minds are once vitiated
by passion or by evil principle, are by no means a security from their
actually taking their part against the public tranquillity. We see to
what low and despicable passions of all kinds many men in that class
are ready to sacrifice the patrimonial estates which might be
perpetuated in their families with splendor, and with the fame of
hereditary benefactors to mankind, from generation to generation. Do we
not see how lightly people treat their fortunes, when under the
influence of the passion of gaming? The game of ambition or resentment
will be played by many of the rich and great as desperately, and with as
much blindness to the consequences, as any other game. Was he a man of
no rank or fortune who first set on foot the disturbances which have
ruined France? Passion blinded him to the consequences, so far as they
concerned himself; and as to the consequences with regard to others,
they were no part of his consideration,--nor ever will be with those who
bear any resemblance to that virtuous patriot and lover of the rights of
man.

There is also a time of insecurity, when interests of all sorts become
objects of speculation. Then it is that their very attachment to wealth
and importance will induce several persons of opulence to list
themselves and even to take a lead with the party which they think most
likely to prevail, in order to obtain to themselves consideration in
some new order or disorder of things. They may be led to act in this
manner, that they may secure some portion of their own property, and
perhaps to become partakers of the spoil of their own order. Those who
speculate on change always make a great number among people of rank and
fortune, as well as amongst the low and the indigent.

What security against all this?--All human securities are liable to
uncertainty. But if anything bids fair for the prevention of so great a
calamity, it must consist in the use of the ordinary means of just
influence in society, whilst those means continue unimpaired. The public
judgment ought to receive a proper direction. All weighty men may have
their share in so good a work. As yet, notwithstanding the strutting and
lying independence of a braggart philosophy, Nature maintains her
rights, and great names have great prevalence. Two such men as Mr. Pitt
and Mr. Fox, adding to their authority in a point in which they concur
even by their disunion in everything else, might frown these wicked
opinions out of the kingdom. But if the influence of either of them, or
the influence of men like them, should, against their serious
intentions, be otherwise perverted, they may countenance opinions which
(as I have said before, and could wish over and over again to press)
they may in vain attempt to control. In their theory, these doctrines
admit no limit, no qualification whatsoever. No man can say how far he
will go, who joins with those who are avowedly going to the utmost
extremities. What security is there for stopping short at all in these
wild conceits? Why, neither more nor less than this,--that the moral
sentiments of some few amongst them do put some check on their savage
theories. But let us take care. The moral sentiments, so nearly
connected with early prejudice as to be almost one and the same thing,
will assuredly not live long under a discipline which has for its basis
the destruction of all prejudices, and the making the mind proof against
all dread of consequences flowing from the pretended truths that are
taught by their philosophy.

In this school the moral sentiments must grow weaker and weaker every
day. The more cautious of these teachers, in laying down their maxims,
draw as much of the conclusion as suits, not with their premises, but
with their policy. They trust the rest to the sagacity of their pupils.
Others, and these are the most vaunted for their spirit, not only lay
down the same premises, but boldly draw the conclusions, to the
destruction of our whole Constitution in Church and State. But are these
conclusions truly drawn? Yes, most certainly. Their principles are wild
and wicked; but let justice be done even to frenzy and villany. These
teachers are perfectly systematic. No man who assumes their grounds can
tolerate the British Constitution in Church or State. These teachers
profess to scorn all mediocrity,--to engage for perfection,--to proceed
by the simplest and shortest course. They build their politics, not on
convenience, but on truth; and they profess to conduct men to certain
happiness by the assertion of their undoubted rights. With them there is
no compromise. All other governments are usurpations, which justify and
even demand resistance.

Their principles always go to the extreme. They who go with the
principles of the ancient Whigs, which are those contained in Mr.
Burke's book, never can go too far. They may, indeed, stop short of some
hazardous and ambiguous excellence, which they will be taught to
postpone to any reasonable degree of good they may actually possess. The
opinions maintained in that book never can lead to an extreme, because
their foundation is laid in an opposition to extremes. The foundation of
government is there laid, not in imaginary rights of men, (which at best
is a confusion of judicial with civil principles,) but in political
convenience, and in human nature,--either as that nature is universal,
or as it is modified by local habits and social aptitudes. The
foundation of government (those who have read that book will recollect)
is laid in a provision for our wants and in a conformity to our duties:
it is to purvey for the one, it is to enforce the other. These doctrines
do of themselves gravitate to a middle point, or to some point near a
middle. They suppose, indeed, a certain portion of liberty to be
essential to all good government; but they infer that this liberty is to
be blended into the government, to harmonize with its forms and its
rules, and to be made subordinate to its end. Those who are not with
that book are with its opposite; for there is no medium besides the
medium itself. That medium is not such because it is found there, but it
is found there because it is conformable to truth and Nature. In this we
do not follow the author, but we and the author travel together upon the
same safe and middle path.

The theory contained in his book is not to furnish principles for making
a new Constitution, but for illustrating the principles of a
Constitution already made. It is a theory drawn from the _fact_ of our
government. They who oppose it are bound to show that his theory
militates with that fact; otherwise, their quarrel is not with his book,
but with the Constitution of their country. The whole scheme of our
mixed Constitution is to prevent any one of its principles from being
carried as far as, taken by itself, and theoretically, it would go.
Allow that to be the true policy of the British system, then most of the
faults with which that system stands charged will appear to be, not
imperfections into which it has inadvertently fallen, but excellencies
which it has studiously sought. To avoid the perfections of extreme,
all its several parts are so constituted as not alone to answer their
own several ends, but also each to limit and control the others;
insomuch that, take which of the principles you please, you will find
its operation checked and stopped at a certain point. The whole movement
stands still rather than that any part should proceed beyond its
boundary. From thence it results that in the British Constitution there
is a perpetual treaty and compromise going on, sometimes openly,
sometimes with less observation. To him who contemplates the British
Constitution, as to him who contemplates the subordinate material world,
it will always be a matter of his most curious investigation to discover
the secret of this mutual limitation.

            _Finita_ potestas denique _cuique_
    Quanam sit ratione, atque alte terminus hærens?

They who have acted, as in France they have done, upon a scheme wholly
different, and who aim at the abstract and unlimited perfection of power
in the popular part, can be of no service to us in any of our political
arrangements. They who in their headlong career have overpassed the goal
can furnish no example to those who aim to go no further. The temerity
of such speculators is no more an example than the timidity of others.
The one sort scorns the right; the other fears it; both miss it. But
those who by violence go beyond the barrier are without question the
most mischievous; because, to go beyond it, they overturn and destroy
it. To say they have spirit is to say nothing in their praise. The
untempered spirit of madness, blindness, immorality, and impiety
deserves no commendation. He that sets his house on fire because his
fingers are frost-bitten can never be a fit instructor in the method of
providing our habitations with a cheerful and salutary warmth. We want
no foreign examples to rekindle in us the flame of liberty. The example
of our own ancestors is abundantly sufficient to maintain the spirit of
freedom in its full vigor, and to qualify it in all its exertions. The
example of a wise, moral, well-natured, and well-tempered spirit of
freedom is that alone which can be useful to us, or in the least degree
reputable or safe. Our fabric is so constituted, one part of it bears so
much on the other, the parts are so made for one another, and for
nothing else, that to introduce any foreign matter into it is to destroy
it.

What has been said of the Roman Empire is at least as true of the
British Constitution:--"_Octingentorum annorum fortuna disciplinaque
compages hæc coaluit; quæ convelli sine convellentium exitio non
potest_." This British Constitution has not been struck out at an heat
by a set of presumptuous men, like the Assembly of pettifoggers run mad
in Paris.

    "'Tis not the hasty product of a day,
    But the well-ripened fruit of wise delay."

It is the result of the thoughts of many minds in many ages. It is no
simple, no superficial thing, nor to be estimated by superficial
understandings. An ignorant man, who is not fool enough to meddle with
his clock, is, however, sufficiently confident to think he can safely
take to pieces and put together, at his pleasure, a moral machine of
another guise, importance, and complexity, composed of far other wheels
and springs and balances and counteracting and coöperating powers. Men
little think how immorally they act in rashly meddling with what they
do not understand. Their delusive good intention is no sort of excuse
for their presumption. They who truly mean well must be fearful of
acting ill. The British Constitution may have its advantages pointed out
to wise and reflecting minds, but it is of too high an order of
excellence to be adapted to those which are common. It takes in too many
views, it makes too many combinations, to be so much as comprehended by
shallow and superficial understandings. Profound thinkers will know it
in its reason and spirit. The less inquiring will recognize it in their
feelings and their experience. They will thank God they have a standard,
which, in the most essential point of this great concern, will put them
on a par with the most wise and knowing.

If we do not take to our aid the foregone studies of men reputed
intelligent and learned, we shall be always beginners. But men must
learn somewhere; and the new teachers mean no more than what they
effect, as far as they succeed,--that is, to deprive men of the benefit
of the collected wisdom of mankind, and to make them blind disciples of
their own particular presumption. Talk to these deluded creatures (all
the disciples and most of the masters) who are taught to think
themselves so newly fitted up and furnished, and you will find nothing
in their houses but the refuse of _Knaves' Acre_,--nothing but the
rotten stuff, worn out in the service of delusion and sedition in all
ages, and which, being newly furbished up, patched, and varnished,
serves well enough for those who, being unacquainted with the conflict
which has always been maintained between the sense and the nonsense of
mankind, know nothing of the former existence and the ancient
refutation of the same follies. It is near two thousand years since it
has been observed that these devices of ambition, avarice, and
turbulence were antiquated. They are, indeed, the most ancient of all
commonplaces: commonplaces sometimes of good and necessary causes; more
frequently of the worst, but which decide upon neither. _Eadem semper
causa, libido et avaritia, et mutandarum rerum amor. Ceterum libertas et
speciosa nomina pretexuntur; nec quisquam alienum servitium, et
dominationem sibi concupivit, ut non eadem ista vocabula usurparet_.

Rational and experienced men tolerably well know, and have always known,
how to distinguish between true and false liberty, and between the
genuine adherence and the false pretence to what is true. But none,
except those who are profoundly studied, can comprehend the elaborate
contrivance of a fabric fitted to unite private and public liberty with
public force, with order, with peace, with justice, and, above all, with
the institutions formed for bestowing permanence and stability, through
ages, upon this invaluable whole.

Place, for instance, before your eyes such a man as Montesquieu. Think
of a genius not born in every country or every time: a man gifted by
Nature with a penetrating, aquiline eye,--with a judgment prepared with
the most extensive erudition,--with an Herculean robustness of mind, and
nerves not to be broken with labor,--a man who could spend twenty years
in one pursuit. Think of a man like the universal patriarch in Milton
(who had drawn up before him in his prophetic vision the whole series of
the generations which were to issue from his loins): a man capable of
placing in review, after having brought together from the East, the
West, the North, and the South, from the coarseness of the rudest
barbarism to the most refined and subtle civilization, all the schemes
of government which had ever prevailed amongst mankind, weighing,
measuring, collating, and comparing them all, joining fact with theory,
and calling into council, upon all this infinite assemblage of things,
all the speculations which have fatigued the understandings of profound
reasoners in all times. Let us then consider, that all these were but so
many preparatory steps to qualify a man, and such a man, tinctured with
no national prejudice, with no domestic affection, to admire, and to
hold out to the admiration of mankind, the Constitution of England. And
shall we Englishmen revoke to such a suit? Shall we, when so much more
than he has produced remains still to be understood and admired, instead
of keeping ourselves in the schools of real science, choose for our
teachers men incapable of being taught,--whose only claim to know is,
that they have never doubted,--from whom we can learn nothing but their
own indocility,--who would teach us to scorn what in the silence of our
hearts we ought to adore?

Different from them are all the great critics. They have taught us one
essential rule. I think the excellent and philosophic artist, a true
judge, as well as a perfect follower of Nature, Sir Joshua Reynolds, has
somewhere applied it, or something like it, in his own profession. It is
this: that, if ever we should find ourselves disposed not to admire
those writers or artists (Livy and Virgil, for instance, Raphael or
Michael Angelo) whom all the learned had admired, not to follow our own
fancies, but to study them, until we know how and what we ought to
admire; and if we cannot arrive at this combination of admiration with
knowledge, rather to believe that we are dull than that the rest of the
world has been imposed on. It is as good a rule, at least, with regard
to this admired Constitution. We ought to understand it according to our
measure, and to venerate where we are not able presently to comprehend.

Such admirers were our fathers, to whom we owe this splendid
inheritance. Let us improve it with zeal, but with fear. Let us follow
our ancestors, men not without a rational, though without an exclusive
confidence in themselves,--who, by respecting the reason of others, who,
by looking backward as well as forward, by the modesty as well as by the
energy of their minds, went on insensibly drawing this Constitution
nearer and nearer to its perfection, by never departing from its
fundamental principles, nor introducing any amendment which had not a
subsisting root in the laws, Constitution, and usages of the kingdom.
Let those who have the trust of political or of natural authority ever
keep watch against the desperate enterprises of innovation: let even
their benevolence be fortified and armed. They have before their eyes
the example of a monarch insulted, degraded, confined, deposed; his
family dispersed, scattered, imprisoned; his wife insulted to his face,
like the vilest of the sex, by the vilest of all populace; himself three
times dragged by these wretches in an infamous triumph; his children
torn from him, in violation of the first right of Nature, and given into
the tuition of the most desperate and impious of the leaders of
desperate and impious clubs; his revenues dilapidated and plundered;
his magistrates murdered; his clergy proscribed, persecuted, famished;
his nobility degraded in their rank, undone in their fortunes, fugitives
in their persons; his armies corrupted and ruined; his whole people
impoverished, disunited, dissolved; whilst through the bars of his
prison, and amidst the bayonets of his keepers, he hears the tumult of
two conflicting factions, equally wicked and abandoned, who agree in
principles, in dispositions, and in objects, but who tear each other to
pieces about the most effectual means of obtaining their common end: the
one contending to preserve for a while his name, and his person, the
more easily to destroy the royal authority,--the other clamoring to cut
off the name, the person, and the monarchy together, by one sacrilegious
execution. All this accumulation of calamity, the greatest that ever
fell upon one man, has fallen upon his head, because he had left his
virtues unguarded by caution,--because he was not taught, that, where
power is concerned, he who will confer benefits must take security
against ingratitude.

I have stated the calamities which have fallen upon a great prince and
nation, because they were not alarmed at the approach of danger, and
because, what commonly happens to men surprised, they lost all resource
when they were caught in it. When I speak of danger, I certainly mean to
address myself to those who consider the prevalence of the new Whig
doctrines as an evil.

The Whigs of this day have before them, in this Appeal, their
constitutional ancestors; they have the doctors of the modern school.
They will choose for themselves. The author of the Reflections has
chosen for himself. If a new order is coming on, and all the political
opinions must pass away as dreams, which our ancestors have worshipped
as revelations, I say for him, that he would rather be the last (as
certainly he is the least) of that race of men than the first and
greatest of those who have coined to themselves Whig principles from a
French die, unknown to the impress of our fathers in the Constitution.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] Newspaper intelligence ought always to be received with some degree
of caution. I do not know that the following paragraph is founded on any
authority; but it comes with an air of authority. The paper is
professedly in the interest of the modern Whigs, and under their
direction. The paragraph is not disclaimed on their part. It professes
to be the decision of those whom its author calls "the great and firm
body of the Whigs of England." Who are the Whigs of a different
composition, which the promulgator of the sentence considers as composed
of fleeting and unsettled particles, I know not, nor whether there be
any of that description. The definitive sentence of "the great and firm
body of the Whigs of England" (as this paper gives it out) is as
follows:--

"The great and firm body of the Whigs of England, true to their
principles, have decided on the dispute between Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke;
and the former is declared to have maintained the pure doctrines by
which they are bound together, and upon which they have invariably
acted. The consequence is, that Mr. Burke retires from
Parliament."--_Morning Chronicle_, May 12, 1791.

[7] Reflections, &c., 1st ed., London, J. Dodsley, 1790.--Works, Vol.
III. p. 343, in the present edition.

[8] To explain this, it will be necessary to advert to a paragraph which
appeared in a paper in the minority interest some time before this
debate. "A very dark intrigue has lately been discovered, the authors of
which are well known to us; but until the glorious day shall come when
it will not be a LIBEL to tell the TRUTH, we must not be so regardless
of our own safety as to publish their names. We will, however, state the
fact, leaving it to the ingenuity of our readers to discover what we
dare not publish.

"Since the business of the armament against Russia has been under
discussion, a great personage has been heard to say, 'that he was not so
wedded to Mr. PITT as not to be very willing to give his confidence to
Mr. FOX, if the latter should be able, in a crisis like the present, to
conduct the government of the country with greater advantage to the
public.'

"This patriotic declaration immediately alarmed the swarm of courtly
insects that live only in the sunshine of ministerial favor. It was
thought to be the forerunner of the dismission of Mr. Pitt, and every
engine was set at work for the purpose of preventing such an event. The
principal engine employed on this occasion was CALUMNY. It was whispered
in the ear of a great personage, that Mr. Fox was the last man in
England to be trusted by a KING, because he was by PRINCIPLE a
REPUBLICAN, and consequently an enemy to MONARCHY.

"In the discussion of the Quebec Bill which stood for yesterday, it was
the intention of some persons to connect with this subject the French
Revolution, in hopes that Mr. Fox would be warmed by a collision with
Mr. Burke, and induced to defend that Revolution, in which so much power
was taken from, and so little left in the crown.

"Had Mr. Fox fallen into the snare, his speech on the occasion would
have been laid before a great personage, as a proof that a man who could
defend such a revolution might be a very good republican, but could not
possibly be a friend to monarchy.

"But those who laid the snare were disappointed; for Mr. Fox, in the
short conversation which took place yesterday in the House of Commons,
said, that he confessedly had thought favorably of the French
Revolution, but that most certainly he never had, either in Parliament
or out of Parliament, professed or defended republican
principles."--_Argus_, April 22d, 1791.

Mr. Burke cannot answer for the truth nor prove the falsehood of the
story given by the friends of the party in this paper. He only knows
that an opinion of its being well or ill authenticated had no influence
on his conduct. He meant only, to the best of his power, to guard the
public against the ill designs of factions out of doors. What Mr. Burke
did in Parliament could hardly have been intended to draw Mr. Fox into
any declarations unfavorable to his principles, since (by the account of
those who are his friends) he had long before effectually prevented the
success of any such scandalous designs. Mr. Fox's friends have
themselves done away that imputation on Mr. Burke.

[9] See his speech on American Taxation, the 19th of April, 1774.

[10] Lord Lansdowne.

[11] Mr. Windham.

[12] July 17th, 1765.

[13] Works, Vol. III. pp. 251-276, present edition.

[14] State Trials, Vol. V. p. 651.

[15] Page 676.

[16] The words necessary to the completion of the sentence are wanting
in the printed trial--but the construction of the sentence, as well as
the foregoing part of the speech, justify the insertion of some such
supplemental words as the above.

[17] "What we did was, in truth and substance, and in a constitutional
light, a revolution, not made, but prevented. We took solid securities;
we settled doubtful questions; we corrected anomalies in our law. In the
stable, fundamental parts of our Constitution we made no
revolution,--no, nor any alteration at all. We did not impair the
monarchy. Perhaps it might be shown that we strengthened it very
considerably. The nation kept the same ranks, the same orders, the same
privileges, the same franchises, the same rules for property, the same
subordinations, the same order in the law, in the revenue, and in the
magistracy,--the same lords, the same commons, the same corporations,
the same electors."--_Mr. Burke's Speech in the House of Commons, 9th
February, 1790._--It appears how exactly he coincides in everything with
Sir Joseph Jekyl.

[18] See Reflections, pp. 42, 43.--Works, Vol. III. p. 270, present
edition.

[19] Declaration of Right.

[20] Vindication of the Rights of Man, recommended by the several
societies.

[21] "Omnes omnium charitates patria una complectitur."--Cic.

[22] A few lines in Persius contain a good summary of all the objects of
moral investigation, and hint the result of our inquiry: There human
will has no place.

    Quid _sumus_? et quidnam _victuri gignimur_? ordo
    Quis _datus_? et _metæ_ quis mollis flexus, et unde?
    Quis modus argento? Quid _fas optare_? Quid asper
    Utile nummus habet? _Patriæ charisque propinquis_
    Quantum elargiri _debet_? Quem te Deus esse
    _Jussit_? et humana qua parte _locatus es_ in re?



[23] It is no small loss to the world, that the whole of this
enlightened and philosophic sermon, preached to _two hundred thousand_
national guards assembled at Blackheath (a number probably equal to the
sublime and majestic _Fédération_ of the 14th of July, 1790, in the
Champ de Mars) is not preserved. A short abstract is, however, to be
found in Walsingham. I have added it here for the edification of the
modern Whigs, who may possibly except this precious little fragment from
their general contempt of ancient learning.

"Ut suâ doctrinâ plures inficeret, ad le Blackheth (ubi ducenta millia
hominum communium fuere simul congregata) hujuscemodi sermonem est
exorsus.

    "Whan Adam dalfe and Eve span,
     Who was than a gentleman?

Continuansque sermonem inceptum, nitebatur per verba proverbii, quod pro
themate sumpserat, introducere et probare, _ab initio omnes pares
creatos a naturâ_, servitutem per injustam oppressionem nequam hominum
introductam contra Dei voluntatem, quia si Deo placuisset servos
creâsse, utique in principio mundi constituisset, quis servus, quisve
dominus futurus fuisset. Considerarent igitur jam tempus a Deo datum
eis, in quo (deposito servitutis jugo diutius) possent, si vellent,
libertate diu concupitâ gaudere. Quapropter monuit ut essent viri
cordati, et amore boni patrisfamilias excolentis agrum suum, et
extirpantis ac resecantis noxia gramina quæ fruges solent opprimere, et
ipsi in præsenti facere festinarent. Primò _majores regni dominos
occidendo. Deinde juridicos, justiciarios, et juratores patriæ
perimendo._ Postremò quoscunque scirent _in posterum communitati
nocivos_ tollerent de terrâ suâ, sic demum et _pacem_ sibimet _parerent
et securitatem_ in futurum. _Si sublatis majoribus esset inter eos æqua
libertas, eadem nobilitas, par dignitas, similisque potestas._"

Here is displayed at once the whole of the grand _arcanum_ pretended to
be found out by the National Assembly, for securing future happiness,
peace, and tranquillity. There seems, however, to be some doubt whether
this venerable protomartyr of philosophy was inclined to carry his own
declaration of the rights of men more rigidly into practice than the
National Assembly themselves. He was, like them, only preaching
licentiousness to the populace to obtain power for himself, if we may
believe what is subjoined by the historian.

"Cumque hæc et _plura alia deliramenta_" (think of this old fool's
calling all the wise maxims of the French Academy _deliramenta_!)
"prædicâsset, commune vulgus cum tanto favore prosequitur, ut
_exclamarent eum archiepiscopum futurum, et regni cancellarium_."
Whether he would have taken these situations under these names, or would
have changed the whole nomenclature of the State and Church, to be
understood in the sense of the Revolution, is not so certain. It is
probable that he would have changed the names and kept the substance of
power.

We find, too, that they had in those days their _society for
constitutional information_, of which the Reverend John Ball was a
conspicuous member, sometimes under his own name, sometimes under the
feigned name of John Schep. Besides him it consisted (as Knyghton tells
us) of persons who went by the real or fictitious names of Jack Mylner,
Tom Baker, Jack Straw, Jack Trewman, Jack Carter, and probably of many
more. Some of the choicest flowers of the publications charitably
written and circulated by them gratis are upon record in Walsingham and
Knyghton: and I am inclined to prefer the pithy and sententious brevity
of these _bulletins_ of ancient rebellion before the loose and confused
prolixity of the modern advertisements of constitutional information.
They contain more good morality and less bad politics, they had much
more foundation in real oppression, and they have the recommendation of
being much better adapted to the capacities of those for whose
instruction they were intended. Whatever laudable pains the teachers of
the present day appear to take, I cannot compliment them so far as to
allow that they have succeeded in writing down to the level of their
pupils, _the members of the sovereign_, with half the ability of Jack
Carter and the Reverend John Ball. That my readers may judge for
themselves, I shall give them, one or two specimens.

The first is an address from the Reverend John Ball, under his _nom de
guerre_ of John Schep. I know not against what particular "guyle in
borough" the writer means to caution the people; it may have been only a
general cry against "_rotten boroughs_," which it was thought
convenient, then as now, to make the first pretext, and place at the
head of the list of grievances.

JOHN SCHEP.

"Iohn Schep sometime seint Mary priest of Yorke, and now of Colchester,
greeteth well Iohn Namelesse, and Iohn the Miller, and Iohn Carter, and
_biddeth them that they beware of guyle in borough_, and stand together
in Gods name, and biddeth Piers Ploweman goe to his werke, and chastise
well _Hob the robber_, [probably the king,] and take with you Iohn
Trewman, and all his fellows, and no moe.

    "Iohn the Miller hath yground smal, small, small:
     The kings sonne of heauen shal pay for all.
     Beware or ye be woe,
     Know your frende fro your foe,
     Haue ynough, and say hoe:
     And do wel and better, & flee sinne,
     _And seeke peace and holde you therin,_

& so biddeth Iohn Trewman & all his fellowes."

The reader has perceived, from the last lines of this curious
state-paper, how well the National Assembly has copied its union of the
profession of universal peace with the practice of murder and confusion,
and the blast of the trumpet of sedition in all nations. He will in the
following constitutional paper observe how well, in their enigmatical
style, like the Assembly and their abettors, the old philosophers
proscribe all hereditary distinction, and bestow it only on virtue and
wisdom, according to their estimation of both. Yet these people are
supposed never to have heard of "the rights of man"!

JACK MYLNER.

"Jakke Mylner asket help to turne his mylne aright.

    "He hath grounden smal smal,
     The Kings sone of heven he schal pay for alle.

Loke thy mylne go a rygt, with the fours sayles, and the post stande in
steadfastnesse.

    "With rygt and with mygt,
     With skyl and with wylle,
     Lat mygt helpe rygt,
     And skyl go before wille,
     And rygt before mygt:
     Than goth oure mylne aryght.
     And if mygt go before ryght,
     And wylle before skylle;
     Than is oure mylne mys a dygt."

JACK CARTER understood perfectly the doctrine of looking to the _end_,
with an indifference to the _means_, and the probability of much good
arising from great evil.

"Jakke Carter pryes yowe alle that ye make a gode _ende_ of that ye hane
begunnen, and doth wele and ay bettur and bettur: for at the even men
heryth the day. _For if the ende be wele, than is alle wele._ Lat Peres
the Plowman my brother duelle at home and dygt us corne, and I will go
with yowe and helpe that y may to dygte youre mete and youre drynke,
that ye none fayle: lokke that Hobbe robbyoure be wele chastysed for
lesyng of youre grace: for ye have gret nede to take God with yowe in
alle yours dedes. For nowe is tyme to be war."

[24] See the wise remark on this subject in the Defence of Rights of
Man, circulated by the societies.

[25] The primary assemblies.




A

LETTER

TO

A PEER OF IRELAND

ON THE

PENAL LAWS AGAINST IRISH CATHOLICS,

PREVIOUS TO

THE LATE REPEAL OF A PART THEREOF IN THE SESSION OF THE IRISH
PARLIAMENT, HELD A.D. 1782.


CHARLES STREET, LONDON, Feb. 21, 1782


My Lord,--I am obliged to your Lordship for your communication of the
heads of Mr. Gardiner's bill. I had received it, in an earlier stage of
its progress, from Mr. Braughall; and I am still in that gentleman's
debt, as I have not made him the proper return for the favor he has done
me. Business, to which I was more immediately called, and in which my
sentiments had the weight of one vote, occupied me every moment since I
received his letter. This first morning which I can call my own I give
with great cheerfulness to the subject on which your Lordship has done
me the honor of desiring my opinion.

I have read the heads of the bill, with the amendments. Your Lordship is
too well acquainted with men, and with affairs, to imagine that any true
judgment can be formed on the value of a great measure of policy from
the perusal of a piece of paper. At present I am much in the dark with
regard to the state of the country which the intended law is to be
applied to. It is not easy for me to determine whether or no it was wise
(for the sake of expunging the black letter of laws which, menacing as
they were in the language, were every day fading into disuse) solemnly
to reaffirm the principles and to reenact the provisions of a code of
statutes by which you are totally excluded from THE PRIVILEGES OF THE
COMMONWEALTH, from the highest to the lowest, from the most material of
the civil professions, from the army, and even from education, where
alone education is to be had.[26]

Whether this scheme of indulgence, grounded at once on contempt and
jealousy, has a tendency gradually to produce something better and more
liberal, I cannot tell, for want of having the actual map of the
country. If this should be the case, it was right in you to accept it,
such as it is. But if this should be one of the experiments which have
sometimes been made before the temper of the nation was ripe for a real
reformation, I think it may possibly have ill effects, by disposing the
penal matter in a more systematic order, and thereby fixing a permanent
bar against any relief that is truly substantial. The whole merit or
demerit of the measure depends upon the plans and dispositions of those
by whom the act was made, concurring with the general temper of the
Protestants of Ireland, and their aptitude to admit in time of some part
of that equality without which you never can be FELLOW-CITIZENS. Of all
this I am wholly ignorant. All my correspondence with men of public
importance in Ireland has for some time totally ceased. On the first
bill for the relief of the ROMAN CATHOLICS of Ireland, I was, without
any call of mine, consulted both on your side of the water and on this.
On the present occasion, I have not heard a word from any man in office,
and know as little of the intentions of the British government as I
know of the temper of the Irish Parliament. I do not find that any
opposition was made by the principal persons of the minority in the
House of Commons, or that any is apprehended from them in the House of
Lords. The whole of the difficulty seems to lie with the principal men
in government, under whose protection this bill is supposed to be
brought in. This violent opposition and cordial support, coming from one
and the same quarter, appears to me something mysterious, and hinders me
from being able to make any clear judgment of the merit of the present
measure, as compared with the actual state of the country and the
general views of government, without which one can say nothing that may
not be very erroneous.

To look at the bill in the abstract, it is neither more nor less than a
renewed act of UNIVERSAL, UNMITIGATED, INDISPENSABLE, EXCEPTIONLESS
DISQUALIFICATION.

One would imagine that a bill inflicting such a multitude of
incapacities had followed on the heels of a conquest made by a very
fierce enemy, under the impression of recent animosity and resentment.
No man, on reading that bill, could imagine he was reading an act of
amnesty and indulgence, following a recital of the good behavior of
those who are the objects of it,--which recital stood at the head of the
bill, as it was first introduced, but, I suppose for its incongruity
with the body of the piece, was afterwards omitted. This I say on
memory. It, however, still recites the oath, and that Catholics ought to
be considered as good and loyal subjects to his Majesty, his crown and
government. Then follows an universal exclusion of those GOOD and LOYAL
subjects from every (even the lowest) office of trust and profit,--from
any vote at an election,--from any privilege in a town corporate,--from
being even a freeman of such a corporation,--from serving on grand
juries,--from a vote at a vestry,--from having a gun in his house,--from
being a barrister, attorney, or solicitor, &c., &c., &c.

This has surely much more the air of a table of proscription than an act
of grace. What must we suppose the laws concerning those _good_ subjects
to have been, of which this is a relaxation? I know well that there is a
cant language current, about the difference between an exclusion from
employments, even to the most rigorous extent, and an exclusion from the
natural benefits arising from a man's own industry. I allow, that, under
some circumstances, the difference is very material in point of justice,
and that there are considerations which may render it advisable for a
wise government to keep the leading parts of every branch of civil and
military administration in hands of the best trust; but a total
exclusion from the commonwealth is a very different thing. When a
government subsists (as governments formerly did) on an estate of its
own, with but few and inconsiderable revenues drawn from the subject,
then the few officers which existed in such establishments were
naturally at the disposal of that government, which paid the salaries
out of its own coffers: there an exclusive preference could hardly merit
the name of proscription. Almost the whole produce of a man's industry
at that time remained in his own purse to maintain his family. But times
alter, and the _whole_ estate of government is from private
contribution. When a very great portion of the labor of individuals
goes to the state, and is by the state again refunded to individuals,
through the medium of offices, and in this circuitous progress from the
private to the public, and from the public again to the private fund,
the families from whom the revenue is taken are indemnified, and an
equitable balance between the government and the subject is established.
But if a great body of the people who contribute to this state lottery
are excluded from all the prizes, the stopping the circulation with
regard to them may be a most cruel hardship, amounting in effect to
being double and treble taxed; and it will be felt as such to the very
quick, by all the families, high and low, of those hundreds of thousands
who are denied their chance in the returned fruits of their own
industry. This is the thing meant by those who look upon the public
revenue only as a spoil, and will naturally wish to have as few as
possible concerned in the division of the booty. If a state should be so
unhappy as to think it cannot subsist without such a barbarous
proscription, the persons so proscribed ought to be indemnified by the
remission of a large part of their taxes, by an immunity from the
offices of public burden, and by an exemption from being pressed into
any military or naval service.

Common sense and common justice dictate this at least, as some sort of
compensation to a people for their slavery. How many families are
incapable of existing, if the little offices of the revenue and little
military commissions are denied them! To deny them at home, and to make
the happiness of acquiring some of them somewhere else felony or high
treason, is a piece of cruelty, in which, till very lately, I did not
suppose this age capable of persisting. Formerly a similarity of
religion made a sort of country for a man in some quarter or other. A
refugee for religion was a protected character. Now the reception is
cold indeed; and therefore, as the asylum abroad is destroyed, the
hardship at home is doubled. This hardship is the more intolerable
because the professions are shut up. The Church is so of course. Much is
to be said on that subject, in regard to them, and to the Protestant
Dissenters. But that is a chapter by itself. I am sure I wish well to
that Church, and think its ministers among the very best citizens of
your country. However, such as it is, a great walk in life is forbidden
ground to seventeen hundred thousand of the inhabitants of Ireland. Why
are they excluded from the law? Do not they expend money in their suits?
Why may not they indemnify themselves, by profiting, in the persons of
some, for the losses incurred by others? Why may not they have persons
of confidence, whom they may, if they please, employ in the agency of
their affairs? The exclusion from the law, from grand juries, from
sheriffships and under-sheriffships, as well as from freedom in any
corporation, may subject them to dreadful hardships, as it may exclude
them wholly from all that is beneficial and expose them to all that is
mischievous in a trial by jury. This was manifestly within my own
observation, for I was three times in Ireland from the year 1760 to the
year 1767, where I had sufficient means of information concerning the
inhuman proceedings (among which were many cruel murders, besides an
infinity of outrages and oppressions unknown before in a civilized age)
which prevailed during that period, in consequence of a pretended
conspiracy among _Roman Catholics_ against the king's government. I
could dilate upon the mischiefs that may happen, from those which have
happened, upon this head of disqualification, if it were at all
necessary.

The head of exclusion from votes for members of Parliament is closely
connected with the former. When you cast your eye on the statute-book,
you will see that no _Catholic_, even in the ferocious acts of Queen
Anne, was disabled from voting on account of his religion. The only
conditions required for that privilege were the oaths of allegiance and
abjuration,--both oaths relative to a civil concern. Parliament has
since added another oath of the same kind; and yet a House of Commons,
adding to the securities of government in proportion as its danger is
confessedly lessened, and professing both confidence and indulgence, in
effect takes away the privilege left by an act full of jealousy and
professing persecution.

The taking away of a vote is the taking away the shield which the
subject has, not only against the oppression of power, but that worst of
all oppressions, the persecution of private society and private manners.
No candidate for Parliamentary influence is obliged to the least
attention towards them, either in cities or counties. On the contrary,
if they should become obnoxious to any bigoted or malignant people
amongst whom they live, it will become the interest of those who court
popular favor to use the numberless means which always reside in
magistracy and influence to oppress them. The proceedings in a certain
county in Munster, during the unfortunate period I have mentioned, read
a strong lecture on the cruelty of depriving men of that shield on
account of their speculative opinions. The Protestants of Ireland feel
well and naturally on the hardship of being bound by laws in the
enacting of which they do not directly or indirectly vote. The bounds of
these matters are nice, and hard to be settled in theory, and perhaps
they have been pushed too far. But how they can avoid the necessary
application of the principles they use in their disputes with others to
their disputes with their fellow-citizens, I know not.

It is true, the words of this act do not create a disability; but they
clearly and evidently suppose it. There are few _Catholic_ freeholders
to take the benefit of the privilege, if they were permitted to partake
it; but the manner in which this very right in freeholders at large is
defended is not on the idea that the freeholders do really and truly
represent the people, but that, all people being capable of obtaining
freeholds, all those who by their industry and sobriety merit this
privilege have the means of arriving at votes. It is the same with the
corporations.

The laws against foreign education are clearly the very worst part of
the old code. Besides your laity, you have the succession of about four
thousand clergymen to provide for. These, having no lucrative objects in
prospect, are taken very much out of the lower orders of the people. At
home they have no means whatsoever provided for their attaining a
clerical education, or indeed any education at all. When I was in Paris,
about seven years ago, I looked at everything, and lived with every kind
of people, as well as my time admitted. I saw there the Irish college of
the Lombard, which seemed to me a very good place of education, under
excellent orders and regulations, and under the government of a very
prudent and learned man (the late Dr. Kelly). This college was possessed
of an annual fixed revenue of more than a thousand pound a year, the
greatest part of which had arisen from the legacies and benefactions of
persons educated in that college, and who had obtained promotions in
France, from the emolument of which promotions they made this grateful
return. One in particular I remember, to the amount of ten thousand
livres annually, as it is recorded on the donor's monument in their
chapel.

It has been the custom of poor persons in Ireland to pick up such
knowledge of the Latin tongue as, under the general discouragements, and
occasional pursuits of magistracy, they were able to acquire; and
receiving orders at home, were sent abroad to obtain a clerical
education. By officiating in petty chaplainships, and performing now and
then certain offices of religion for small gratuities, they received the
means of maintaining themselves until they were able to complete their
education. Through such difficulties and discouragements, many of them
have arrived at a very considerable proficiency, so as to be marked and
distinguished abroad. These persons afterwards, by being sunk in the
most abject poverty, despised and ill-treated by the higher orders among
Protestants, and not much better esteemed or treated even by the few
persons of fortune of their own persuasion, and contracting the habits
and ways of thinking of the poor and uneducated, among whom they were
obliged to live, in a few years retained little or no traces of the
talents and acquirements which distinguished them in the early periods
of their lives. Can we with justice cut them off from the use of places
of education founded for the greater part from the economy of poverty
and exile, without providing something that is equivalent at home?

Whilst this restraint of foreign and domestic education was part of an
horrible and impious system of servitude, the members were well fitted
to the body. To render men patient under a deprivation of all the rights
of human nature, everything which could give them a knowledge or feeling
of those rights was rationally forbidden. To render humanity fit to be
insulted, it was fit that it should be degraded. But when we profess to
restore men to the capacity for property, it is equally irrational and
unjust to deny them the power of improving their minds as well as their
fortunes. Indeed, I have ever thought the prohibition of the means of
improving our rational nature to be the worst species of tyranny that
the insolence and perverseness of mankind ever dared to exercise. This
goes to all men, in all situations, to whom education can be denied.

Your Lordship mentions a proposal which came from my friend, the
Provost, whose benevolence and enlarged spirit I am perfectly convinced
of,--which is, the proposal of erecting a few sizarships in the college,
for the education (I suppose) of Roman Catholic clergymen.[27] He
certainly meant it well; but, coming from such a man as he is, it is a
strong instance of the danger of suffering any description of men to
fall into entire contempt. The charities intended for them are not
perceived to be fresh insults; and the true nature of their wants and
necessities being unknown, remedies wholly unsuitable to the nature of
their complaint are provided for them. It is to feed a sick Gentoo with
beef broth, and to foment his wounds with brandy. If the other parts of
the university were open to them, as well on the foundation as
otherwise, the offering of sizarships would be a proportioned part of a
_general_ kindness. But when everything _liberal_ is withheld, and only
that which is _servile_ is permitted, it is easy to conceive upon what
footing they must be in such a place.

Mr. Hutchinson must well know the regard and honor I have for him; and
he cannot think my dissenting from him in this particular arises from a
disregard of his opinion: it only shows that I think he has lived in
Ireland. To have any respect for the character and person of a Popish
priest there--oh, 'tis an uphill work indeed! But until we come to
respect what stands in a respectable light with others, we are very
deficient in the temper which qualifies us to make any laws and
regulations about them: it even disqualifies us from being charitable to
them with any effect or judgment.

When we are to provide for the education of any body of men, we ought
seriously to consider the particular functions they are to perform in
life. A Roman Catholic clergyman is the minister of a very ritual
religion, and by his profession subject to many restraints. His life is
a life full of strict observances; and his duties are of a laborious
nature towards himself, and of the highest possible trust towards
others. The duty of confession alone is sufficient to set in the
strongest light the necessity of his having an appropriated mode of
education. The theological opinions and peculiar rites of one religion
never can be properly taught in universities founded for the purposes
and on the principles of another which in many points are directly
opposite. If a Roman Catholic clergyman, intended for celibacy and the
function of confession, is not strictly bred in a seminary where these
things are respected, inculcated, and enforced, as sacred, and not made
the subject of derision and obloquy, he will be ill fitted for the
former, and the latter will be indeed in his hands a terrible
instrument.

There is a great resemblance between, the whole frame and constitution
of the Greek and Latin Churches. The secular clergy in the former, by
being married, living under little restraint, and having no particular
education suited to their function, are universally fallen into such
contempt that they are never permitted to aspire to the dignities of
their own Church. It is not held respectful to call them _Papas_, their
true and ancient appellation, but those who wish to address them with
civility always call them _Hieromonachi_. In consequence of this
disrespect, which I venture to say, in such a Church, must be the
consequence of a secular life, a very great degeneracy from reputable
Christian manners has taken place throughout almost the whole of that
great member of the Christian Church.

It was so with the Latin Church, before the restraint on marriage. Even
that restraint gave rise to the greatest disorders before the Council of
Trent, which, together with the emulation raised and the good examples
given by the Reformed churches, wherever they were in view of each
other, has brought on that happy amendment which we see in the Latin
communion, both at home and abroad.

The Council of Trent has wisely introduced the discipline of seminaries,
by which priests are not trusted for a clerical institution even to the
severe discipline of their colleges, but, after they pass through them,
are frequently, if not for the greater part, obliged to pass through
peculiar methods, having their particular ritual function in view. It is
in a great measure to this, and to similar methods used in foreign
education, that the Roman Catholic clergy of Ireland, miserably provided
for, living among low and ill-regulated people, without any discipline
of sufficient force to secure good manners, have been prevented from
becoming an intolerable nuisance to the country, instead of being, as I
conceive they generally are, a very great service to it.

The ministers of Protestant churches require a different mode of
education, more liberal, and more fit for the ordinary intercourse of
life. That religion having little hold on the minds of people by
external ceremonies and extraordinary observances, or separate habits of
living, the clergy make up the deficiency by cultivating their minds
with all kinds of ornamental learning, which the liberal provision made
in England and Ireland for the parochial clergy, (to say nothing of the
ample Church preferments, with little or no duties annexed,) and the
comparative lightness of parochial duties, enables the greater part of
them in some considerable degree to accomplish.

This learning, which I believe to be pretty general, together with an
higher situation, and more chastened by the opinion of mankind, forms a
sufficient security for the morals of the established clergy, and for
their sustaining their clerical character with dignity. It is not
necessary to observe, that all these things are, however, collateral to
their function, and that, except in preaching, which may be and is
supplied, and often best supplied, out of printed books, little else is
necessary for a Protestant minister than to be able to read the English
language,--I mean for the exercise of his function, not to the
qualification of his admission to it. But a Popish parson in Ireland may
do very well without any considerable classical erudition, or any
proficiency in pure or mixed mathematics, or any knowledge of civil
history. Even if the Catholic clergy should possess those acquisitions,
as at first many of them do, they soon lose them in the painful course
of professional and parochial duties: but they must have all the
knowledge, and, what is to them more important than the knowledge, the
discipline, necessary to those duties. All modes of education conducted
by those whose minds are cast in another mould, as I may say, and whose
original ways of thinking are formed upon the reverse pattern, must be
to them not only useless, but mischievous. Just as I should suppose the
education in a Popish ecclesiastical seminary would be ill fitted for a
Protestant clergyman. To educate a Catholic priest in a Protestant
seminary would be much worse. The Protestant educated amongst Catholics
has only something to reject: what he keeps may be useful. But a
Catholic parish priest learns little for his peculiar purpose and duty
in a Protestant college.

All this, my Lord, I know very well, will pass for nothing with those
who wish that the Popish clergy should be illiterate, and in a situation
to produce contempt and detestation. Their minds are wholly taken up
with party squabbles, and I have neither leisure nor inclination to
apply any part of what I have to say to those who never think of
religion or of the commonwealth in any other light than as they tend to
the prevalence of some faction in either. I speak on a supposition that
there is a disposition _to take the state in the condition in which it
is found_, and to improve it _in that state_ to the best advantage.
Hitherto the plan for the government of Ireland has been to sacrifice
the civil prosperity of the nation to its religious improvement. But if
people in power there are at length come to entertain other ideas, they
will consider the good order, decorum, virtue, and morality of every
description of men among them as of infinitely greater importance than
the struggle (for it is nothing better) to change those descriptions by
means which put to hazard objects which, in my poor opinion, are of more
importance to religion and to the state than all the polemical matter
which has been agitated among men from the beginning of the world to
this hour.

On this idea, an education fitted _to each order and division of men,
such as they are found_, will be thought an affair rather to be
encouraged than discountenanced; and until institutions at home,
suitable to the occasions and necessities of the people, are
established, and which are armed, as they are abroad, with authority to
coerce the young men to be formed in them by a strict and severe
discipline, the means they have at present of a cheap and effectual
education in other countries should not continue to be prohibited by
penalties and modes of inquisition not fit to be mentioned to ears that
are organized to the chaste sounds of equity and justice.

Before I had written thus far, I heard of a scheme of giving to the
Castle the patronage of the presiding members of the Catholic clergy. At
first I could scarcely credit it; for I believe it is the first time
that the presentation to other people's alms has been desired in any
country. If the state provides a suitable maintenance and temporality
for the governing members of the Irish Roman Catholic Church, and for
the clergy under them, I should think the project, however improper in
other respects, to be by no means unjust. But to deprive a poor people,
who maintain a second set of clergy, out of the miserable remains of
what is left after taxing and tithing, to deprive them of the
disposition of their own charities among their own communion, would, in
my opinion, be an intolerable hardship. Never were the members of one
religious sect fit to appoint the pastors to another. Those who have no
regard for their welfare, reputation, or internal quiet will not appoint
such as are proper. The seraglio of Constantinople is as equitable as we
are, whether Catholics or Protestants,--and where their own sect is
concerned, full as religious. But the sport which they make of the
miserable dignities of the Greek Church, the little factions of the
harem to which they make them subservient, the continual sale to which
they expose and reëxpose the same dignity, and by which they squeeze all
the inferior orders of the clergy, is (for I have had particular means
of being acquainted with it) nearly equal to all the other oppressions
together, exercised by Mussulmen over the unhappy members of the
Oriental Church. It is a great deal to suppose that even the present
Castle would nominate bishops for the Roman Church of Ireland with a
religious regard for its welfare. Perhaps they cannot, perhaps they dare
not do it.

But suppose them to be as well inclined as I know that I am to do the
Catholics all kind of justice, I declare I would not, if it were in my
power, take that patronage on myself. I know I ought not to do it. I
belong to another community, and it would be intolerable usurpation for
me to affect such authority, where I conferred no benefit, or even if I
did confer (as in some degree the seraglio does) temporal advantages.
But allowing that the _present_ Castle finds itself fit to administer
the government of a church which they solemnly forswear, and forswear
with very hard words and many evil epithets, and that as often as they
qualify themselves for the power which is to give this very patronage,
or to give anything else that they desire,--yet they cannot insure
themselves that a man like the late Lord Chesterfield will not succeed
to them. This man, while he was duping the credulity of Papists with
fine words in private, and commending their good behavior during a
rebellion in Great Britain, (as it well deserved to be commended and
rewarded,) was capable of urging penal laws against them in a speech
from the throne, and of stimulating with provocatives the wearied and
half-exhausted bigotry of the then Parliament of Ireland. They set to
work, but they were at a loss what to do; for they had already almost
gone through every contrivance which could _waste the vigor_ of their
country: but, after much struggle, they produced a child of their old
age, the shocking and unnatural act about marriages, which tended to
finish the scheme for making the people not only two distinct parties
forever, but keeping them as two distinct species in the same land. Mr.
Gardiner's humanity was shocked at it, as one of the worst parts of that
truly barbarous system, if one could well settle the preference, where
almost all the parts were outrages on the rights of humanity and the
laws of Nature.

Suppose an atheist, playing the part of a bigot, should be in power
again in that country, do you believe that he would faithfully and
religiously administer the trust of appointing pastors to a church
which, wanting every other support, stands in tenfold need of ministers
who will be dear to the people committed to their charge, and who will
exercise a really paternal authority amongst them? But if the superior
power was always in a disposition to dispense conscientiously, and like
an upright trustee and guardian of these rights which he holds for those
with whom he is at variance, has he the capacity and means of doing it?
How can the Lord-Lieutenant form the least judgment of their merits, so
as to discern which of the Popish priests is fit to be made a bishop? It
cannot be: the idea is ridiculous. He will hand them over to
lords-lieutenant of counties, justices of the peace, and other persons,
who, for the purpose of vexing and turning to derision this miserable
people, will pick out the worst and most obnoxious they can find amongst
the clergy to set over the rest. Whoever is complained against by his
brother will be considered as persecuted; whoever is censured by his
superior will be looked upon as oppressed; whoever is careless in his
opinions and loose in his morals will be called a liberal man, and will
be supposed to have incurred hatred because he was not a bigot.
Informers, tale-bearers, perverse and obstinate men, flatterers, who
turn their back upon their flock and court the Protestant gentlemen of
the country, will be the objects of preferment. And then I run no risk
in foretelling that whatever order, quiet, and morality you have in the
country will be lost. A Popish clergy who are not restrained by the most
austere subordination will become a nuisance, a real public grievance of
the heaviest kind, in any country that entertains them; and instead of
the great benefit which Ireland does and has long derived from them, if
they are educated without any idea of discipline and obedience, and then
put under bishops who do not owe their station to their good opinion,
and whom they cannot respect, that nation will see disorders, of which,
bad as things are, it has yet no idea. I do not say this, as thinking
the leading men in Ireland would exercise this trust worse than others.
Not at all. No man, no set of men living are fit to administer the
affairs or regulate the interior economy of a church to which they are
enemies.

As to government, if I might recommend a prudent caution to them, it
would be, to innovate as little as possible, upon speculation, in
establishments from which, as they stand, they experience no material
inconvenience to the repose of the country,--_quieta non movere_.

I could say a great deal more; but I am tired, and am afraid your
Lordship is tired too. I have not sat to this letter a single quarter of
an hour without interruption. It has grown long, and probably contains
many repetitions, from my total want of leisure to digest and
consolidate my thoughts; and as to my expressions, I could wish to be
able perhaps to measure them more exactly. But my intentions are fair,
and I certainly mean to offend nobody.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thinking over this matter more maturely, I see no reason for altering my
opinion in any part. The act, as far as it goes, is good undoubtedly. It
amounts, I think, very nearly to a _toleration_, with respect to
religious ceremonies; but it puts a new bolt on civil rights, and rivets
it to the old one in such a manner, that neither, I fear, will be easily
loosened. What I could have wished would be, to see the civil advantages
take the lead; the other, of a religious toleration, I conceive, would
follow, (in a manner,) of course. From what I have observed, it is
pride, arrogance, and a spirit of domination, and not a bigoted spirit
of religion, that has caused and kept up those oppressive statutes. I am
sure I have known those who have oppressed Papists in their civil rights
exceedingly indulgent to them in their religious ceremonies, and who
really wished them to continue Catholics, in order to furnish pretences
for oppression. These persons never saw a man (by converting) escape out
of their power, but with grudging and regret. I have known men to whom I
am not uncharitable in saying (though they are dead) that they would
have become Papists in order to oppress Protestants, if, being
Protestants, it was not in their power to oppress Papists. It is
injustice, and not a mistaken conscience, that has been the principle of
persecution,--at least, as far as it has fallen under my
observation.--However, as I began, so I end. I do not know the map of
the country. Mr. Gardiner, who conducts this great and difficult work,
and those who support him, are better judges of the business than I can
pretend to be, who have not set my foot in Ireland these sixteen years.
I have been given to understand that I am not considered as a friend to
that country; and I know that pains have been taken to lessen the credit
that I might have had there.

       *       *       *       *       *

I am so convinced of the weakness of interfering in any business,
without the opinion of the people in whose business I interfere, that I
do not know how to acquit myself of what I have now done.

I have the honor to be, with high regard and esteem, my Lord,

Your Lordship's most obedient

And humble servant, &c.

EDMUND BURKE.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] The sketch of the bill sent to Mr. Burke, along with the repeal of
some acts, reaffirmed many others in the penal code. It was altered
afterwards, and the clauses reaffirming the incapacities left out; but
they all still exist, and are in full force.

[27] It appears that Mr. Hutchinson meant this only as one of the means
for their relief in point of education.




A

LETTER

TO

SIR HERCULES LANGRISHE, BART., M.P.,

ON THE SUBJECT OF

THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF IRELAND,

THE PROPRIETY OF ADMITTING THEM TO THE ELECTIVE FRANCHISE, CONSISTENTLY
WITH THE PRINCIPLES OF THE CONSTITUTION, AS ESTABLISHED AT THE
REVOLUTION.

1792.


My Dear Sir,--Your remembrance of me, with sentiments of so much
kindness, has given me the most sincere satisfaction. It perfectly
agrees with the friendly and hospitable reception which my son and I
received from you some time since, when, after an absence of twenty-two
years, I had the happiness of embracing you, among my few surviving
friends.

I really imagined that I should not again interest myself in any public
business. I had, to the best of my moderate faculties, paid my club to
the society which I was born in some way or other to serve; and I
thought I had a right to put on my night-gown and slippers, and wish a
cheerful evening to the good company I must leave behind. But if our
resolutions of vigor and exertion are so often broken or procrastinated
in the execution, I think we may be excused, if we are not very punctual
in fulfilling our engagements to indolence and inactivity. I have,
indeed, no power of action, and am almost a cripple even with regard to
thinking; but you descend with force into the stagnant pool, and you
cause such a fermentation as to cure at least one impotent creature of
his lameness, though it cannot enable him either to run or to wrestle.

You see by the paper[28] I take that I am likely to be long, with malice
prepense. You have brought under my view a subject always difficult, at
present critical. It has filled my thoughts, which I wish to lay open to
you with the clearness and simplicity which your friendship demands from
me. I thank you for the communication of your ideas. I should be still
more pleased, if they had been more your own. What you hint I believe to
be the case: that, if you had not deferred to the judgment of others,
our opinions would not differ more materially at this day than they did
when we used to confer on the same subject so many years ago. If I still
persevere in my old opinions, it is no small comfort to me that it is
not with regard to doctrines properly yours that I discover my
indocility.

The case upon which your letter of the 10th of December turns is hardly
before me with precision enough to enable me to form any very certain
judgment upon it. It seems to be some plan of further indulgence
proposed for the Catholics of Ireland. You observe, that your "general
principles are not changed, but that _times and circumstances are
altered_." I perfectly agree with you, that times and circumstances,
considered with reference to the public, ought very much to govern our
conduct,--though I am far from slighting, when applied with discretion
to those circumstances, general principles and maxims of policy. I
cannot help observing, however, that you have said rather less upon the
inapplicability of your own old principles to the _circumstances_ that
are likely to influence your conduct against these principles than of
the _general_ maxims of state, which I can very readily believe not to
have great weight with you personally.

In my present state of imperfect information, you will pardon the
errors into which I may easily fall. The principles you lay down are,
"that the Roman Catholics should enjoy everything _under_ the state, but
should not be _the state itself_." And you add, "that, when you exclude
them from being _a part of the state_, you rather conform to the spirit
of the age than to any abstract doctrine"; but you consider the
Constitution as already established,--that our state is Protestant. "It
was declared so at the Revolution. It was so provided in the acts for
settling the succession of the crown:--the king's coronation oath was
enjoined in order to keep it so. The king, as first magistrate of the
state, is obliged to take the oath of abjuration,[29] and to subscribe
the Declaration; and by laws subsequent, every other magistrate and
member of the state, legislative and executive, are bound under the same
obligation."

As to the plan to which these maxims are applied, I cannot speak, as I
told you, positively about it: because neither from your letter, nor
from any in formation I have been able to collect, do I find anything
settled, either on the part of the Roman Catholics themselves, or on
that of any persons who may wish to conduct their affairs in Parliament.
But if I have leave to conjecture, something is in agitation towards
admitting them, under _certain qualifications_, to have _some share_ in
the election of members of Parliament. This I understand is the scheme
of those who are entitled to come within your description of persons of
consideration, property, and character,--and firmly attached to the king
and Constitution, as by "law established, with a grateful sense of your
former concessions, and a patient reliance on the benignity of
Parliament for the further mitigation of the laws that still affect
them."--As to the low, thoughtless, wild, and profligate, who have
joined themselves with those of other professions, but of the same
character, you are not to imagine that for a moment I can suppose them
to be met with anything else than the manly and enlightened energy of a
firm government, supported by the united efforts of all virtuous men, if
ever their proceedings should become so considerable as to demand its
notice. I really think that such associations should be crushed in their
very commencement.

Setting, therefore, this case out of the question, it becomes an object
of very serious consideration, whether, because wicked men of _various_
descriptions are engaged in seditious courses, the rational, sober, and
valuable part of _one_ description should not be indulged in their sober
and rational expectations. You, who have looked deeply into the spirit
of the Popery laws, must be perfectly sensible that a great part of the
present mischief which we abhor in common (if it at all exists) has
arisen from them. Their declared object was, to reduce the Catholics of
Ireland to a miserable populace, without property, without estimation,
without education. The professed object was, to deprive the few men,
who, in spite of those laws, might hold or obtain any property amongst
them, of all sort of influence or authority over the rest. They divided
the nation into two distinct bodies, without common interest, sympathy,
or connection. One of these bodies was to possess _all_ the franchises,
_all_ the property, _all_ the education: the other was to be composed of
drawers of water and cutters of turf for them. Are we to be astonished,
when, by the efforts of so much violence in conquest, and so much policy
in regulation, continued without intermission for near an hundred years,
we had reduced them to a mob, that, whenever they came to act at all,
many of them would act exactly like a mob, without temper, measure, or
foresight? Surely it might be just now a matter of temperate discussion,
whether you ought not to apply a remedy to the real cause of the evil.
If the disorder you speak of be real and considerable, you ought to
raise an aristocratic interest, that is, an interest of property and
education, amongst them,--and to strengthen, by every prudent means, the
authority and influence of men of that description. It will deserve your
best thoughts, to examine whether this can be done without giving such
persons the means of demonstrating to the rest that something more is to
be got by their temperate conduct than can be expected from the wild and
senseless projects of those who do not belong to their body, who have no
interest in their well-being, and only wish to make them the dupes of
their turbulent ambition.

If the absurd persons you mention find no way of providing for liberty,
but by overturning this happy Constitution, and introducing a frantic
democracy, let us take care how we prevent better people from any
rational expectations of partaking in the benefits of that Constitution
_as it stands_. The maxims you establish cut the matter short. They have
no sort of connection with the good or the ill behavior of the persons
who seek relief, or with the proper or improper means by which they seek
it. They form a perpetual bar to all pleas and to all expectations.

You begin by asserting, that "the Catholics ought to enjoy all things
_under_ the state, but that they ought not to _be the state_": a
position which, I believe, in the latter part of it, and in the latitude
there expressed, no man of common sense has ever thought proper to
dispute; because the contrary implies that the state ought to be in them
_exclusively_. But before you have finished the line, you express
yourself as if the other member of your proposition, namely, that "they
ought not to be a _part_ of the state," were necessarily included in the
first,--whereas I conceive it to be as different as a part is from the
whole, that is, just as different as possible. I know, indeed, that it
is common with those who talk very differently from you, that is, with
heat and animosity, to confound those things, and to argue the admission
of the Catholics into any, however minute and subordinate, parts of the
state, as a surrender into their hands of the whole government of the
kingdom. To them I have nothing at all to say.

Wishing to proceed with a deliberative spirit and temper in so very
serious a question, I shall attempt to analyze, as well as I can, the
principles you lay down, in order to fit them for the grasp of an
understanding so little comprehensive as
mine.--"State,"--"Protestant,"--"Revolution." These are terms which, if
not well explained, may lead us into many errors. In the word _State_ I
conceive there is much ambiguity. The state is sometimes used to signify
_the whole commonwealth_, comprehending all its orders, with the several
privileges belonging to each. Sometimes it signifies only _the higher
and ruling part_ of the commonwealth, which we commonly call _the
Government_. In the first sense, to be under the state, but not the
state itself, _nor any part of it_, that is, to be nothing at all in the
commonwealth, is a situation perfectly intelligible,--but to those who
fill that situation, not very pleasant, when it is understood. It is a
state of _civil servitude_, by the very force of the definition.
_Servorum non est respublica_ is a very old and a very true maxim. This
servitude, which makes men _subject_ to a state without being
_citizens_, may be more or less tolerable from many circumstances; but
these circumstances, more or less favorable, do not alter the nature of
the thing. The mildness by which absolute masters exercise their
dominion leaves them masters still. We may talk a little presently of
the manner in which the majority of the people of Ireland (the
Catholics) are affected by this situation, which at present undoubtedly
is theirs, and which you are of opinion ought so to continue forever.

In the other sense of the word _State_, by which is understood the
_Supreme Government_ only, I must observe this upon the question: that
to exclude whole classes of men entirely from this _part_ of government
cannot be considered as _absolute slavery_. It only implies a lower and
degraded state of citizenship: such is (with more or less strictness)
the condition of all countries in which an hereditary nobility possess
the exclusive rule. This may be no bad mode of government,--provided
that the personal authority of individual nobles be kept in due bounds,
that their cabals and factions are guarded against with a severe
vigilance, and that the people (who have no share in granting their own
money) are subjected to but light impositions, and are otherwise treated
with attention, and with indulgence to their humors and prejudices.

The republic of Venice is one of those which strictly confines all the
great functions and offices, such as are truly _stale_ functions and
_state_ offices, to those who by hereditary right or admission are noble
Venetians. But there are many offices, and some of them not mean nor
unprofitable, (that of Chancellor is one,) which are reserved for the
_cittadini_. Of these all citizens of Venice are capable. The
inhabitants of the _terra firma_, who are mere subjects of conquest,
that is, as you express it, under the state, but "not a part of it," are
not, however, subjects in so very rigorous a sense as not to be capable
of numberless subordinate employments. It is, indeed, one of the
advantages attending the narrow bottom of their aristocracy, (narrow as
compared with their acquired dominions, otherwise broad enough,) that an
exclusion from such employments cannot possibly be made amongst their
subjects. There are, besides, advantages in states so constituted, by
which those who are considered as of an inferior race are indemnified
for their exclusion from the government, and from nobler employments. In
all these countries, either by express law, or by usage more operative,
the noble castes are almost universally, in their turn, excluded from
commerce, manufacture, farming of land, and in general from all
lucrative civil professions. The nobles have the monopoly of honor; the
plebeians a monopoly of all the means of acquiring wealth. Thus some
sort of a balance is formed among conditions; a sort of compensation is
furnished to those who, in a _limited sense_, are excluded from the
government of the state.

Between the extreme of _a total exclusion_, to which your maxim goes,
and _an universal unmodified capacity_, to which the fanatics pretend,
there are many different degrees and stages, and a great variety of
temperaments, upon which prudence may give full scope to its exertions.
For you know that the decisions of prudence (contrary to the system of
the insane reasoners) differ from those of judicature; and that almost
all the former are determined on the more or the less, the earlier or
the later, and on a balance of advantage and inconvenience, of good and
evil.

In all considerations which turn upon the question of vesting or
continuing the state solely and exclusively in some one description of
citizens, prudent legislators will consider how far _the general form
and principles of their commonwealth render it fit to be cast into an
oligarchical shape, or to remain always in it_. We know that the
government of Ireland (the same as the British) is not in its
constitution _wholly_ aristocratical; and as it is not such in its form,
so neither is it in its spirit. If it had been inveterately
aristocratical, exclusions might be more patiently submitted to. The lot
of one plebeian would be the lot of all; and an habitual reverence and
admiration of certain families might make the people content to see
government wholly in hands to whom it seemed naturally to belong. But
our Constitution has _a plebeian member_, which forms an essential
integrant part of it. A plebeian oligarchy is a monster; and no people,
not absolutely domestic or predial slaves, will long endure it. The
Protestants of Ireland are not _alone_ sufficiently the people to form a
democracy; and they are _too numerous_ to answer the ends and purposes
of _an aristocracy_. Admiration, that first source of obedience, can be
only the claim or the imposture of the few. I hold it to be absolutely
impossible for two millions of plebeians, composing certainly a very
clear and decided majority in that class, to become so far in love with
six or seven hundred thousand of their fellow-citizens (to all outward
appearance plebeians like themselves, and many of them tradesmen,
servants, and otherwise inferior to some of them) as to see with
satisfaction, or even with patience, an exclusive power vested in them,
by which _constitutionally_ they become the absolute masters, and, by
the _manners_ derived from their circumstances, must be capable of
exercising upon them, daily and hourly, an insulting and vexatious
superiority. Neither are the majority of the Irish indemnified (as in
some aristocracies) for this state of humiliating vassalage (often
inverting the nature of things and relations) by having the lower walks
of industry wholly abandoned to them. They are rivalled, to say the
least of the matter, in every laborious and lucrative course of life;
while every franchise, every honor, every trust, every place, down to
the very lowest and least confidential, (besides whole professions,) is
reserved for the master caste.

Our Constitution is not made for great, general, and proscriptive
exclusions; sooner or later it will destroy them, or they will destroy
the Constitution. In our Constitution there has always been a difference
between _a franchise_ and _an office_, and between the capacity for the
one and for the other. Franchises were supposed to belong to the
_subject_, as _a subject_, and not as _a member of the governing part of
the state_. The policy of government has considered them as things very
different; for, whilst Parliament excluded by the test acts (and for a
while these test acts were not a dead letter, as now they are in
England) Protestant Dissenters from all civil and military employments,
they _never touched their right of voting for members of Parliament or
sitting in either House_: a point I state, not as approving or
condemning, with regard to them, the measure of exclusion from
employments, but to prove that the distinction has been admitted in
legislature, as, in truth, it is founded in reason.

I will not here examine whether the principles of the British [the
Irish] Constitution be wise or not. I must assume that they are, and
that those who partake the franchises which make it partake of a
benefit. They who are excluded from votes (under proper qualifications
inherent in the Constitution that gives them) are excluded, not from
_the state_, but from _the British Constitution_. They cannot by any
possibility, whilst they hear its praises continually rung in their
ears, and are present at the declaration which is so generally and so
bravely made by those who possess the privilege, that the best blood in
their veins ought to be shed to preserve their share in it,--they, the
disfranchised part, cannot, I say, think themselves in an _happy_ state,
to be utterly excluded from all its direct and all its consequential
advantages. The popular part of the Constitution must be to them by far
the most odious part of it. To them it is not an _actual_, and, if
possible, still less a _virtual_ representation. It is, indeed, the
direct contrary. It is power unlimited placed in the hands of _an
adverse_ description _because it is an adverse description_. And if they
who compose the privileged body have not an interest, they must but too
frequently have motives of pride, passion, petulance, peevish jealousy,
or tyrannic suspicion, to urge them to treat the excluded people with
contempt and rigor.

This is not a mere theory; though, whilst men are men, it is a theory
that cannot be false. I do not desire to revive all the particulars in
my memory; I wish them to sleep forever; but it is impossible I should
wholly forget what happened in some parts of Ireland, with very few and
short intermissions, from the year 1761 to the year 1766, both
inclusive. In a country of miserable police, passing from the extremes
of laxity to the extremes of rigor, among a neglected and therefore
disorderly populace, if any disturbance or sedition, from any grievance
real or imaginary, happened to arise, it was presently perverted from
its true nature, often criminal enough in itself to draw upon it a
severe, appropriate punishment: it was metamorphosed into a conspiracy
against the state, and prosecuted as such. Amongst the Catholics, as
being by far the most numerous and the most wretched, all sorts of
offenders against the laws must commonly be found. The punishment of low
people for the offences usual among low people would warrant no
inference against any descriptions of religion or of politics. Men of
consideration from their age, their profession, or their character, men
of proprietary landed estates, substantial renters, opulent merchants,
physicians, and titular bishops, could not easily be suspected of riot
in open day, or of nocturnal assemblies for the purpose of pulling down
hedges, making breaches in park-walls, firing barns, maiming cattle, and
outrages of a similar nature, which characterize the disorders of an
oppressed or a licentious populace. But when the evidence given on the
trial for such misdemeanors qualified them as overt acts of high
treason, and when witnesses were found (such witnesses as they were) to
depose to the taking of oaths of allegiance by the rioters to the king
of France, to their being paid by his money, and embodied and exercised
under his officers, to overturn the state for the purposes of that
potentate,--in that case, the rioters might (if the witness was
believed) be supposed only the troops, and persons more reputable the
leaders and commanders, in such a rebellion. All classes in the
obnoxious description, who could not be suspected of the lower crime of
riot, might be involved in the odium, in the suspicion, and sometimes in
the punishment, of a higher and far more criminal species of offence.
These proceedings did not arise from any one of the Popery laws since
repealed, but from this circumstance, that, when it answered the
purposes of an election party or a malevolent person of influence to
forge such plots, the people had no protection. The people of that
description have no hold on the gentlemen who aspire to be popular
representatives. The candidates neither love nor respect nor fear them,
individually or collectively. I do not think this evil (an evil amongst
a thousand others) at this day entirely over; for I conceive I have
lately seen some indication of a disposition perfectly similar to the
old one,--that is, a disposition to carry the imputation of crimes from
persons to descriptions, and wholly to alter the character and quality
of the offences themselves.

This universal exclusion seems to me a serious evil,--because many
collateral oppressions, besides what I have just now stated, have arisen
from it. In things of this nature it would not be either easy or proper
to quote chapter and verse; but I have great reason to believe,
particularly since the Octennial Act, that several have refused at all
to let their lands to Roman Catholics, because it would so far disable
them from promoting such interests in counties as they were inclined to
favor. They who consider also the state of all sorts of tradesmen,
shopkeepers, and particularly publicans in towns, must soon discern the
disadvantages under which those labor who have no votes. It cannot be
otherwise, whilst the spirit of elections and the tendencies of human
nature continue as they are. If property be artificially separated from
franchise, the franchise must in some way or other, and in some
proportion, naturally attract property to it. Many are the collateral
disadvantages, amongst a _privileged_ people, which must attend on those
who have _no_ privileges.

Among the rich, each individual, with or without a franchise, is of
importance; the poor and the middling are no otherwise so than as they
obtain some collective capacity, and can be aggregated to some corps. If
legal ways are not found, illegal will be resorted to; and seditious
clubs and confederacies, such as no man living holds in greater horror
than I do, will grow and flourish, in spite, I am afraid, of anything
which can be done to prevent the evil. Lawful enjoyment is the surest
method to prevent unlawful gratification. Where there is property, there
will be less theft; where there is marriage, there will always be less
fornication.

I have said enough of the question of state, _as it affects the people
merely as such_. But it is complicated with a political question
relative to religion, to which it is very necessary I should say
something,--because the term _Protestant_, which you apply, is too
general for the conclusions which one of your accurate understanding
would wish to draw from it, and because a great deal of argument will
depend on the use that is made of that term.

It is _not_ a fundamental part of the settlement at the Revolution that
the state should be Protestant _without any qualification of the term_.
With a qualification it is unquestionably true; not in all its latitude.
With the qualification, it was true before the Revolution. Our
predecessors in legislation were not so irrational (not to say impious)
as to form an operose ecclesiastical establishment, and even to render
the state itself in some degree subservient to it, when their religion
(if such it might be called) was nothing but a mere _negation_ of some
other,--without any positive idea, either of doctrine, discipline,
worship, or morals, in the scheme which they professed themselves, and
which they imposed upon others, even under penalties and incapacities.
No! No! This never could have been done, even by reasonable atheists.
They who think religion of no importance to the state have abandoned it
to the conscience or caprice of the individual; they make no provision
for it whatsoever, but leave every club to make, or not, a voluntary
contribution towards its support, according to their fancies. This would
be consistent. The other always appeared to me to be a monster of
contradiction and absurdity. It was for that reason, that, some years
ago, I strenuously opposed the clergy who petitioned, to the number of
about three hundred, to be freed from the subscription to the
Thirty-Nine Articles, without proposing to substitute any other in their
place. There never has been a religion of the state (the few years of
the Parliament only excepted) but that of _the Episcopal Church of
England_: the Episcopal Church of England, before the Reformation,
connected with the see of Rome; since then, disconnected, and protesting
against some of her doctrines, and against the whole of her authority,
as binding in our national church: nor did the fundamental laws of this
kingdom (in Ireland it has been the same) ever know, at any period, any
other church _as an object of establishment_,--or, in that light, any
other Protestant religion. Nay, our Protestant _toleration_ itself, at
the Revolution, and until within a few years, required a signature of
thirty-six, and a part of the thirty-seventh, out of the Thirty-Nine
Articles. So little idea had they at the Revolution of _establishing_
Protestantism indefinitely, that they did not indefinitely _tolerate_ it
under that name. I do not mean to praise that strictness, where nothing
more than merely religious toleration is concerned. Toleration, being a
part of moral and political prudence, ought to be tender and large. A
tolerant government ought not to be too scrupulous in its
investigations, but may bear without blame, not only very ill-grounded
doctrines, but even many things that are positively vices, where they
are _adulta et prævalida_. The good of the commonwealth is the rule
which rides over the rest; and to this every other must completely
submit.

The Church of Scotland knows as little of Protestantism _undefined_ as
the Church of England and Ireland do. She has by the articles of union
secured to herself the perpetual establishment of _the Confession of
Faith_, and the _Presbyterian_ Church government. In England, even
during the troubled interregnum, it was not thought fit to establish a
_negative_ religion; but the Parliament settled the _Presbyterian_ as
the Church _discipline_, the _Directory_ as the rule of public
_worship_, and the _Westminster Catechism_ as the institute of _faith_.
This is to show that at no time was the Protestant religion,
_undefined_, established here or anywhere else, as I believe. I am sure,
that, when the three religions were established in Germany, they were
expressly characterized and declared to be the _Evangelic_, the
_Reformed_, and the _Catholic_; each of which has its confession of
faith and its settled discipline: so that you always may know the best
and the worst of them, to enable you to make the most of what is good,
and to correct or to qualify or to guard against whatever may seem evil
or dangerous.

As to the coronation oath, to which you allude, as opposite to admitting
a Roman Catholic to the use of any franchise whatsoever, I cannot think
that the king would be perjured, if he gave his assent to any regulation
which Parliament might think fit to make with regard to that affair. The
king is bound by law, as clearly specified in several acts of
Parliament, to be in communion with the Church of England. It is a part
of the tenure by which he holds his crown; and though no provision was
made till the Revolution, which could be called positive and valid in
law, to ascertain this great principle, I have always considered it as
in fact fundamental, that the king of England should be of the Christian
religion, according to the national legal church for the time being. I
conceive it was so before the Reformation. Since the Reformation it
became doubly necessary; because the king is the head of that church, in
some sort an ecclesiastical person,--and it would be incongruous and
absurd to have the head of the Church of one faith, and the members of
another. The king may _inherit_ the crown as a _Protestant_; but he
cannot _hold it_, according to law, without being a Protestant _of the
Church of England_.

Before we take it for granted that the king is bound by his coronation
oath not to admit any of his Catholic subjects to the rights and
liberties which ought to belong to them as Englishmen, (not as
religionists,) or to settle the conditions or proportions of such
admission by an act of Parliament, I wish you to place before your eyes
that oath itself, as it is settled in the act of William and Mary.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain
      1                2                 3
the laws of God, the true profession of the Gospel,
           4
and the Protestant Reformed Religion _established by_
                            5
_law_? And will you preserve unto the _bishops_ and clergy of this
realm, and to the churches committed to _their_ charge, all such rights
and privileges as by law do or shall appertain unto them, or any of
them?--All this I promise to do."

Here are the coronation engagements of the king. In them I do not find
one word to preclude his Majesty from consenting to any arrangement
which Parliament may make with regard to the civil privileges of any
part of his subjects.

It may not be amiss, on account of the light which it will throw on this
discussion, to look a little more narrowly into the matter of that
oath,--in order to discover how far it has hitherto operated, or how far
in future it ought to operate, as a bar to any proceedings of the crown
and Parliament in favor of those against whom it may be supposed that
the king has engaged to support the Protestant Church of England in the
two kingdoms in which it is established by law. First, the king swears
he will maintain to the utmost of his power "the laws of God." I suppose
it means the natural moral laws.--Secondly, he swears to maintain "the
true profession of the Gospel." By which I suppose is understood
_affirmatively_ the Christian religion.--Thirdly, that he will maintain
"the Protestant reformed religion." This leaves me no power of
supposition or conjecture; for that Protestant reformed religion is
defined and described by the subsequent words, "established by law"; and
in this instance, to define it beyond all possibility of doubt, he
swears to maintain the "bishops and clergy, and the churches committed
to their charge," in their rights present and future.

The oath as effectually prevents the king from doing anything to the
prejudice of the Church, in favor of sectaries, Jews, Mahometans, or
plain avowed infidels, as if he should do the same thing in favor of the
Catholics. You will see that it is the same Protestant Church, so
described, that the king is to maintain and communicate with, according
to the Act of Settlement of the 12th and 13th of William the Third. The
act of the 5th of Anne, made in prospect of the Union, is entitled, "An
act for securing the Church of England as by law established." It meant
to guard the Church implicitly against any other mode of Protestant
religion which might creep in by means of the Union. It proves beyond
all doubt, that the legislature did not mean to guard the Church on one
part only, and to leave it defenceless and exposed upon every other.
This church, in that act, is declared to be "fundamental and essential"
forever, in the Constitution of the United Kingdom, so far as England is
concerned; and I suppose, as the law stands, even since the
independence, it is so in Ireland.

All this shows that the religion which the king is bound to maintain has
a positive part in it, as well as a negative,--and that the positive
part of it (in which we are in perfect agreement with the Catholics and
with the Church of Scotland) is infinitely the most valuable and
essential. Such an agreement we had with Protestant Dissenters in
England, of those descriptions who came under the Toleration Act of King
William and Queen Mary: an act coeval with the Revolution; and which
ought, on the principles of the gentlemen who oppose the relief to the
Catholics, to have been held sacred and unalterable. Whether we agree
with the present Protestant Dissenters in the points at the Revolution
held essential and fundamental among Christians, or in any other
fundamental, at present it is impossible for us to know: because, at
their own very earnest desire, we have repealed the Toleration Act of
William and Mary, and discharged them from the signature required by
that act; and because, for the far greater part, they publicly declare
against all manner of confessions of faith, even the _Consensus_.

For reasons forcible enough at all times, but at this time particularly
forcible with me, I dwell a little the longer upon this matter, and take
the more pains, to put us both in mind that it was not settled at the
Revolution that the state should be Protestant, in the latitude of the
term, but in a defined and limited sense only, and that in that sense
only the king is sworn to maintain it. To suppose that the king has
sworn with his utmost power to maintain what it is wholly out of his
power to discover, or which, if he could discover, he might discover to
consist of things directly contradictory to each other, some of them
perhaps impious, blasphemous, and seditious upon principle, would be not
only a gross, but a most mischievous absurdity. If mere dissent from the
Church of Rome be a merit, he that dissents the most perfectly is the
most meritorious. In many points we hold strongly with that church. He
that dissents throughout with that church will dissent with the Church
of England, and then it will be a part of his merit that he dissents
with ourselves: a whimsical species of merit for any set of men to
establish. We quarrel to extremity with those who we know agree with us
in many things; but we are to be so malicious even in the principle of
our friendships, that we are to cherish in our bosom those who accord
with us in nothing, because, whilst they despise ourselves, they abhor,
even more than we do, those with whom we have some disagreement. A man
is certainly the most perfect Protestant who protests against the whole
Christian religion. Whether a person's having no Christian religion be a
title to favor, in exclusion to the largest description of Christians,
who hold all the doctrines of Christianity, though holding along with
them some errors and some superfluities, is rather more than any man,
who has not become recreant and apostate from his baptism, will, I
believe, choose to affirm. The countenance given from a spirit of
controversy to that negative religion may by degrees encourage light and
unthinking people to a total indifference to everything positive in
matters of doctrine, and, in the end, of practice too. If continued, it
would play the game of that sort of active, proselytizing, and
persecuting atheism which is the disgrace and calamity of our time, and
which we see to be as capable of subverting a government as any mode can
be of misguided zeal for better things.

Now let us fairly see what course has been taken relative to those
against whom, in part at least, the king has sworn to maintain a church,
_positive in its doctrine and its discipline_. The first thing done,
even when the oath was fresh in the mouth of the sovereigns, was to give
a toleration to Protestant Dissenters _whose doctrines they
ascertained_. As to the mere civil privileges which the Dissenters held
as subjects before the Revolution, these were not touched at all. The
laws have fully permitted, in a qualification for all offices, to such
Dissenters, _an occasional conformity_: a thing I believe singular,
where tests are admitted. The act, called the Test Act, itself, is, with
regard to them, grown to be hardly anything more than a dead letter.
Whenever the Dissenters cease by their conduct to give any alarm to the
government, in Church and State, I think it very probable that even this
matter, rather disgustful than inconvenient to them, may be removed, or
at least so modified as to distinguish the qualification to those
offices which really _guide the state_ from those which are _merely
instrumental_, or that some other and better tests may be put in their
place.

So far as to England. In Ireland you have outran us. Without waiting for
an English example, you have totally, and without any modification
whatsoever, repealed the test as to Protestant Dissenters. Not having
the repealing act by me, I ought not to say positively that there is no
exception in it; but if it be what I suppose it is, you know very well
that a Jew in religion, or a Mahometan, or even _a public, declared
atheist_ and blasphemer, is perfectly qualified to be Lord-Lieutenant, a
lord-justice, or even keeper of the king's conscience, and by virtue of
his office (if with you it be as it is with us) administrator to a great
part of the ecclesiastical patronage of the crown.

Now let us deal a little fairly. We must admit that Protestant Dissent
was one of the quarters from which danger was apprehended at the
Revolution, and against which a part of the coronation oath was
peculiarly directed. By this unqualified repeal you certainly did not
mean to deny that it was the duty of the crown to preserve the Church
against Protestant Dissenters; or taking this to be the true sense of
the two Revolution acts of King William, and of the previous and
subsequent Union acts of Queen Anne, you did not declare by this most
unqualified repeal, by which you broke down all the barriers, not
invented, indeed, but carefully preserved, at the Revolution,--you did
not then and by that proceeding declare that you had advised the king to
perjury towards God and perfidy towards the Church. No! far, very far
from it! You never would have done it, if you did not think it could be
done with perfect repose to the royal conscience, and perfect safety to
the national established religion. You did this upon a full
consideration of the circumstances of your country. Now, if
circumstances required it, why should it be contrary to the king's oath,
his Parliament judging on those circumstances, to restore to his
Catholic people, in such measure and with such modifications as the
public wisdom shall think proper to add, _some part_ in these franchises
which they formerly had held without any limitation at all, and which,
upon no sort of urgent reason at the time, they were deprived of? If
such means can with any probability be shown, from circumstances, rather
to add strength to our mixed ecclesiastical and secular Constitution
than to weaken it, surely they are means infinitely to be preferred to
penalties, incapacities, and proscriptions, continued from generation to
generation. They are perfectly consistent with the other parts of the
coronation oath, in which the king swears to maintain "the laws of God
and the true profession of the Gospel, and to govern the people
according to the statutes in Parliament agreed upon, and the laws and
customs of the realm." In consenting to such a statute, the crown would
act at least as agreeable to the laws of God, and to the true profession
of the Gospel, and to the laws and customs of the kingdom, as George the
First did, when he passed the statute which took from the body of the
people everything which to that hour, and even after the monstrous acts
of the 2nd and 8th of Anne, (the objects of our common hatred,) they
still enjoyed inviolate.

It is hard to distinguish with the last degree of accuracy what laws are
fundamental, and what not. However, there is a distinction between them,
authorized by the writers on jurisprudence, and recognized in some of
our statutes. I admit the acts of King William and Queen Anne to be
fundamental, but they are not the only fundamental laws. The law called
_Magna Charta_, by which it is provided that "no man shall be disseised
of his liberties and free customs but by the judgment of his peers or
the laws of the land," (meaning clearly, for some proved crime tried and
adjudged,) I take to be _a fundamental law._ Now, although this Magna
Charta, or some of the statutes establishing it, provide that that law
shall be perpetual, and all statutes contrary to it shall be void, yet I
cannot go so far as to deny the authority of statutes made in defiance
of Magna Charta and all its principles. This, however, I will say,--that
it is a very venerable law, made by very wise and learned men, and that
the legislature, in their attempt to perpetuate it, even against the
authority of future Parliaments, have shown their judgment that it is
_fundamental_, on the same grounds and in the same manner that the act
of the fifth of Anne has considered and declared the establishment of
the Church of England to be fundamental. Magna Charta, which secured
these franchises to the subjects, regarded the rights of freeholders in
counties to be as much a fundamental part of the Constitution as the
establishment of the Church of England was thought either at that time,
or in the act of King William, or in the act of Queen Anne.

The churchmen who led in that transaction certainly took care of the
material interest of which they were the natural guardians. It is the
first article of Magna Charta, "that the Church of England shall be
free," &c, &c. But at that period, churchmen and barons and knights took
care of the franchises and free customs of the people, too. Those
franchises are part of the Constitution itself, and inseparable from it.
It would be a very strange thing, if there should not only exist
anomalies in our laws, a thing not easy to prevent, but that the
fundamental parts of the Constitution should be perpetually and
irreconcilably at variance with each other. I cannot persuade myself
that the lovers of our church are not as able to find effectual ways of
reconciling its safety with the franchises of the people as the
ecclesiastics of the thirteenth century were able to do; I cannot
conceive how anything worse can be said of the Protestant religion of
the Church of England than this,--that, wherever it is judged proper to
give it a legal establishment, it becomes necessary to deprive the body
of the people, if they adhere to their old opinions, of "their liberties
and of all their free customs," and to reduce them to a state of _civil_
servitude.

There is no man on earth, I believe, more willing than I am to lay it
down as a fundamental of the Constitution, that the Church of England
should be united and even identified with it; but, allowing this, I
cannot allow that all _laws of regulation_, made from time to time, in
support of that fundamental law, are of course equally fundamental and
equally unchangeable. This would be to confound all the branches of
legislation and of jurisprudence. The _crown_ and the personal safety of
the monarch are _fundamentals_ in our Constitution: yet I hope that no
man regrets that the rabble of statutes got together during the reign of
Henry the Eighth, by which treasons are multiplied with so prolific an
energy, have been all repealed in a body; although they were all, or
most of them, made in support of things truly fundamental in our
Constitution. So were several of the acts by which the crown exercised
its supremacy: such as the act of Elizabeth for making the _high
commission courts_, and the like; as well as things made treason in the
time of Charles the Second. None of this species of _secondary and
subsidiary laws_ have been held fundamental. They have yielded to
circumstances; particularly where they were thought, even in their
consequences, or obliquely, to affect other fundamentals. How much more,
certainly, ought they to give way, when, as in our case, they affect,
not here and there, in some particular point, or in their consequence,
but universally, collectively, and directly, the fundamental franchises
of a people equal to the whole inhabitants of several respectable
kingdoms and states: equal to the subjects of the kings of Sardinia or
of Denmark; equal to those of the United Netherlands; and more than are
to be found in all the states of Switzerland. This way of proscribing
men by whole nations, as it were, from all the benefits of the
Constitution to which they were born, I never can believe to be politic
or expedient, much less necessary for the existence of any state or
church in the world. Whenever I shall be convinced, which will be late
and reluctantly, that the safety of the Church is utterly inconsistent
with all the civil rights whatsoever of the far larger part of the
inhabitants of our country, I shall be extremely sorry for it; because I
shall think the Church to be truly in danger. It is putting things into
the position of an ugly alternative, into which I hope in God they never
will be put.

I have said most of what occurs to me on the topics you touch upon,
relative to the religion of the king, and his coronation oath. I shall
conclude the observations which I wished to submit to you on this point
by assuring you that I think you the most remote that can be conceived
from the metaphysicians of our times, who are the most foolish of men,
and who, dealing in universals and essences, see no difference between
more and less,--and who of course would think that the reason of the law
which obliged the king to be a communicant of the Church of England
would be as valid to exclude a Catholic from being an exciseman, or to
deprive a man who has five hundred a year, under that description, from
voting on a par with a factitious Protestant Dissenting freeholder of
forty shillings.

Recollect, my dear friend, that it was a fundamental principle in the
French monarchy, whilst it stood, that the state should be Catholic; yet
the Edict of Nantes gave, not a full ecclesiastical, but a complete
civil _establishment_, with places of which only they were capable, to
the Calvinists of France,--and there were very few employments, indeed,
of which they were not capable. The world praised the Cardinal de
Richelieu, who took the first opportunity to strip them of their
fortified places and cautionary towns. The same world held and does hold
in execration (so far as that business is concerned) the memory of Louis
the Fourteenth, for the total repeal of that favorable edict; though the
talk of "fundamental laws, established religion, religion of the prince,
safety to the state," &c., &c., was then as largely held, and with as
bitter a revival of the animosities of the civil confusions during the
struggles between the parties, as now they can be in Ireland.

Perhaps there are persons who think that the same reason does not hold,
when the religious relation of the sovereign and subject is changed; but
they who have their shop full of false weights and measures, and who
imagine that the adding or taking away the name of Protestant or
Papist, Guelph or Ghibelline, alters all the principles of equity,
policy, and prudence, leave us no common data upon which we can reason.
I therefore pass by all this, which on you will make no impression, to
come to what seems to be a serious consideration in your mind: I mean
the dread you express of "reviewing, for the purpose of altering, the
_principles of the Revolution_." This is an interesting topic, on which
I will, as fully as your leisure and mine permits, lay before you the
ideas I have formed.

First, I cannot possibly confound in my mind all the things which were
done at the Revolution with the _principles_ of the Revolution. As in
most great changes, many things were done from the necessities of the
time, well or ill understood, from passion or from vengeance, which were
not only not perfectly agreeable to its principles, but in the most
direct contradiction to them. I shall not think that the _deprivation of
some millions of people of all the rights of citizens, and all interest
in the Constitution, in and to which they were born_, was a thing
conformable to the _declared principles_ of the Revolution. This I am
sure is true relatively to England (where the operation of these
_anti-principles_ comparatively were of little extent); and some of our
late laws, in repealing acts made immediately after the Revolution,
admit that some things then done were not done in the true spirit of the
Revolution. But the Revolution operated differently in England and
Ireland, in many, and these essential particulars. Supposing the
principles to have been altogether the same in both kingdoms, by the
application of those principles to very different objects the whole
spirit of the system was changed, not to say reversed. In England it
was the struggle of the _great body_ of the people for the establishment
of their liberties, against the efforts of a very _small faction_, who
would have oppressed them. In Ireland it was the establishment of the
power of the smaller number, at the expense of the civil liberties and
properties of the far greater part, and at the expense of the political
liberties of the whole. It was, to say the truth, not a revolution, but
a conquest: which is not to say a great deal in its favor. To insist on
everything done in Ireland at the Revolution would be to insist on the
severe and jealous policy of a conqueror, in the crude settlement of his
new acquisition, as _a permanent_ rule for its future government. This
no power, in no country that ever I heard of, has done or professed to
do,--except in Ireland; where it is done, and possibly by some people
will be professed. Time has, by degrees, in all other places and
periods, blended and coalited the conquered with the conquerors. So,
after some time, and after one of the most rigid conquests that we read
of in history, the Normans softened into the English. I wish you to turn
your recollection to the fine speech of Cerealis to the Gauls, made to
dissuade them from revolt. Speaking of the Romans,--"_Nos_ quamvis
toties lacessiti, jure victoriæ id solum vobis addidimus, quo pacem
tueremur: nam neque quies gentium sine armis, neque arma sine
stipendiis, neque stipendia sine tributis haberi queant. _Caetera in
communi sita sunt_: ipsi plerumque nostris exercitibus _praesidetis_:
ipsi has aliasque provincias _regitis: nil separatum clausumve_. Proinde
pacem et urbem, quam _victores victique eodem jure obtinemus_, amate,
colite." You will consider whether the arguments used by that Roman to
these Gauls would apply to the case in Ireland,--and whether you could
use so plausible a preamble to any severe warning you might think it
proper to hold out to those who should resort to sedition, instead of
supplication, to obtain any object that they may pursue with the
governing power.

For a much longer period than that which had sufficed to blend the
Romans with the nation to which of all others they were the most
adverse, the Protestants settled in Ireland considered themselves in no
other light than that of a sort of a colonial garrison, to keep the
natives in subjection to the other state of Great Britain. The whole
spirit of the Revolution in Ireland was that of not the mildest
conqueror. In truth, the spirit of those proceedings did not commence at
that era, nor was religion of any kind their primary object. What was
done was not in the spirit of a contest between two religious factions,
but between two adverse nations. The statutes of Kilkenny show that the
spirit of the Popery laws, and some even of their actual provisions, as
applied between Englishry and Irishry, had existed in that harassed
country before the words _Protestant_ and _Papist_ were heard of in the
world. If we read Baron Finglas, Spenser, and Sir John Davies, we cannot
miss the true genius and policy of the English government there before
the Revolution, as well as during the whole reign of Queen Elizabeth.
Sir John Davies boasts of the benefits received by the natives, by
extending to them the English law, and turning the whole kingdom into
shire ground. But the appearance of things alone was changed. The
original scheme was never deviated from for a single hour. Unheard-of
confiscations were made in the northern parts, upon grounds of plots and
conspiracies, never proved upon their supposed authors. The war of
chicane succeeded to the war of arms and of hostile statutes; and a
regular series of operations was carried on, particularly from
Chichester's time, in the ordinary courts of justice, and by special
commissions and inquisitions,--first under pretence of tenures, and then
of titles in the crown, for the purpose of the total extirpation of the
interest of the natives in their own soil,--until this species of subtle
ravage, being carried to the last excess of oppression and insolence
under Lord Strafford, it kindled the flames of that rebellion which
broke out in 1641. By the issue of that war, by the turn which the Earl
of Clarendon gave to things at the Restoration, and by the total
reduction of the kingdom of Ireland in 1691, the ruin of the native
Irish, and, in a great measure, too, of the first races of the English,
was completely accomplished. The new English interest was settled with
as solid a stability as anything in human affairs can look for. All the
penal laws of that unparalleled code of oppression, which were made
after the last event, were manifestly the effects of national hatred and
scorn towards a conquered people, whom the victors delighted to trample
upon and were not at all afraid to provoke. They were not the effect of
their fears, but of their security. They who carried on this system
looked to the irresistible force of Great Britain for their support in
their acts of power. They were quite certain that no complaints of the
natives would be heard on this side of the water with any other
sentiments than those of contempt and indignation. Their cries served
only to augment their torture. Machines which could answer their
purposes so well must be of an excellent contrivance. Indeed, in
England, the double name of the complainants, Irish and Papists, (it
would be hard to say which singly was the most odious,) shut up the
hearts of every one against them. Whilst that temper prevailed, (and it
prevailed in all its force to a time within our memory,) every measure
was pleasing and popular just in proportion as it tended to harass and
ruin a set of people who were looked upon as enemies to God and man,
and, indeed, as a race of bigoted savages who were a disgrace to human
nature itself.

However, as the English in Ireland began to be domiciliated, they began
also to recollect that they had a country. The _English interest_, at
first by faint and almost insensible degrees, but at length openly and
avowedly, became an _independent Irish interest_,--full as independent
as it could ever have been if it had continued in the persons of the
native Irish; and it was maintained with more skill and more consistency
than probably it would have been in theirs. With their views, the
_Anglo-Irish_ changed their maxims: it was necessary to demonstrate to
the whole people that there was something, at least, of a common
interest, combined with the independency, which was to become the object
of common exertions. The mildness of government produced the first
relaxation towards the Irish; the necessities, and, in part, too, the
temper that predominated at this great change, produced the second and
the most important of these relaxations. English government and Irish
legislature felt jointly the propriety of this measure. The Irish
Parliament and nation became independent.

The true revolution to you, that which most intrinsically and
substantially resembled the English Revolution of 1688, was the Irish
Revolution of 1782. The Irish Parliament of 1782 bore little resemblance
to that which sat in that kingdom after the period of the first of these
revolutions. It bore a much nearer resemblance to that which sat under
King James. The change of the Parliament in 1782 from the character of
the Parliament which, as a token of its indignation, had burned all the
journals indiscriminately of the former Parliament in the
Council-Chamber, was very visible. The address of King William's
Parliament, the Parliament which assembled after the Revolution, amongst
other causes of complaint (many of them sufficiently just) complains of
the repeal by their predecessors of Poynings's law,--no absolute idol
with the Parliament of 1782.

Great Britain, finding the Anglo-Irish highly animated with a spirit
which had indeed shown itself before, though with little energy and many
interruptions, and therefore suffered a multitude of uniform precedents
to be established against it, acted, in my opinion, with the greatest
temperance and wisdom. She saw that the disposition of the _leading
part_ of the nation would not permit them to act any longer the part of
a _garrison_. She saw that true policy did not require that they ever
should have appeared in that character; or if it had done so formerly,
the reasons had now ceased to operate. She saw that the Irish of her
race were resolved to build their Constitution and their politics upon
another bottom. With those things under her view, she instantly complied
with the whole of your demands, without any reservation whatsoever. She
surrendered that boundless superiority, for the preservation of which,
and the acquisition, she had supported the English colonies in Ireland
for so long a time, and at so vast an expense (according to the standard
of those ages) of her blood and treasure.

When we bring before us the matter which history affords for our
selection, it is not improper to examine the spirit of the several
precedents which are candidates for our choice. Might it not be as well
for your statesmen, on the other side of the water, to take an example
from this latter and surely more conciliatory revolution, as a pattern
for your conduct towards your own fellow-citizens, than from that of
1688, when a paramount sovereignty over both you and them was more
loftily claimed and more sternly exerted than at any former or at any
subsequent period? Great Britain in 1782 rose above the vulgar ideas of
policy, the ordinary jealousies of state, and all the sentiments of
national pride and national ambition. If she had been more disposed
(than, I thank God for it, she was) to listen to the suggestions of
passion than to the dictates of prudence, she might have urged the
principles, the maxims, the policy, the practice of the Revolution,
against the demands of the leading description in Ireland, with full as
much plausibility and full as good a grace as any amongst them can
possibly do against the supplications of so vast and extensive a
description of their own people.

A good deal, too, if the spirit of domination and exclusion had
prevailed in England, might have been excepted against some of the means
then employed in Ireland, whilst her claims were in agitation. They
were at least as much out of ordinary course as those which are now
objected against admitting your people to any of the benefits of an
English Constitution. Most certainly, neither with you nor here was any
one ignorant of what was at that time said, written, and done. But on
all sides we separated the means from the end: and we separated the
cause of the moderate and rational from the ill-intentioned and
seditious, which on such occasions are so frequently apt to march
together. At that time, on your part, you were not afraid to review what
was done at the Revolution of 1688, and what had been continued during
the subsequent flourishing period of the British empire. The change then
made was a great and fundamental alteration. In the execution, it was an
operose business on both sides of the water. It required the repeal of
several laws, the modification of many, and a new course to be given to
an infinite number of legislative, judicial, and official practices and
usages in both kingdoms. This did not frighten any of us. You are now
asked to give, in some moderate measure, to your fellow-citizens, what
Great Britain gave to you without any measure at all. Yet,
notwithstanding all the difficulties at the time, and the apprehensions
which some very well-meaning people entertained, through the admirable
temper in which this revolution (or restoration in the nature of a
revolution) was conducted in both kingdoms, it has hitherto produced no
inconvenience to either; and I trust, with the continuance of the same
temper, that it never will. I think that this small, inconsiderable
change, (relative to an exclusive statute not made at the Revolution,)
for restoring the people to the benefits from which the green soreness
of a civil war had not excluded them, will be productive of no sort of
mischief whatsoever. Compare what was done in 1782 with what is wished
in 1792; consider the spirit of what has been done at the several
periods of reformation; and weigh maturely whether it be exactly true
that conciliatory concessions are of good policy only in discussions
between nations, but that among descriptions in the same nation they
must always be irrational and dangerous. What have you suffered in your
peace, your prosperity, or, in what ought ever to be dear to a nation,
your glory, by the last act by which you took the property of that
people under the protection of the _laws_? What reasons have you to
dread the consequences of admitting the people possessing that property
to some share in the protection of the _Constitution_?

I do not mean to trouble you with anything to remove the objections, I
will not call them arguments, against this measure, taken from a
ferocious hatred to all that numerous description of Christians. It
would be to pay a poor compliment to your understanding or your heart.
Neither _your_ religion nor _your_ politics consist "in odd, perverse
antipathies." You are not resolved to persevere in proscribing from the
Constitution so many millions of your countrymen, because, in
contradiction to experience and to common sense, you think proper to
imagine that their principles are subversive of common human society. To
that I shall only say, that whoever has a temper which can be gratified
by indulging himself in these good-natured fancies ought to do a great
deal more. For an exclusion from the privileges of British subjects is
not a cure for so terrible a distemper of the human mind as they are
pleased to suppose in their countrymen. I rather conceive a
participation in those privileges to be itself a remedy for some mental
disorders.

As little shall I detain you with matters that can as little obtain
admission into a mind like yours: such as the fear, or pretence of fear,
that, in spite of your own power and the trifling power of Great
Britain, you may be conquered by the Pope; or that this commodious
bugbear (who is of infinitely more use to those who pretend to fear than
to those who love him) will absolve his Majesty's subjects from their
allegiance, and send over the Cardinal of York to rule you as his
viceroy; or that, by the plenitude of his power, he will take that
fierce tyrant, the king of the French, out of his jail, and arm that
nation (which on all occasions treats his Holiness so very politely)
with his bulls and pardons, to invade poor old Ireland, to reduce you to
Popery and slavery, and to force the free-born, naked feet of your
people into the wooden shoes of that arbitrary monarch. I do not believe
that discourses of this kind are held, or that anything like them will
be held, by any who walk about without a keeper. Yet I confess, that, on
occasions of this nature, I am the most afraid of the weakest
reasonings, because they discover the strongest passions. These things
will never be brought out in definite propositions. They would not
prevent pity towards any persons; they would only cause it for those who
were capable of talking in such a strain. But I know, and am sure, that
such ideas as no man will distinctly produce to another, or hardly
venture to bring in any plain shape to his own mind, he will utter in
obscure, ill-explained doubts, jealousies, surmises, fears, and
apprehensions, and that in such a fog they will appear to have a good
deal of size, and will make an impression, when, if they were clearly
brought forth and defined, they would meet with nothing but scorn and
derision.

There is another way of taking an objection to this concession, which I
admit to be something more plausible, and worthy of a more attentive
examination. It is, that this numerous class of people is mutinous,
disorderly, prone to sedition, and easy to be wrought upon by the
insidious arts of wicked and designing men; that, conscious of this, the
sober, rational, and wealthy part of that body, who are totally of
another character, do by no means desire any participation for
themselves, or for any one else of their description, in the franchises
of the British Constitution.

I have great doubt of the exactness of any part of this observation. But
let us admit that the body of the Catholics are prone to sedition, (of
which, as I have said, I entertain much doubt,) is it possible that any
fair observer or fair reasoner can think of confining this description
to them only? I believe it to be possible for men to be mutinous and
seditious who feel no grievance, but I believe no man will assert
seriously, that, when people are of a turbulent spirit, the best way to
keep them in order is to furnish them with something substantial to
complain of.

You separate, very properly, the sober, rational, and substantial part
of their description from the rest. You give, as you ought to do, weight
only to the former. What I have always thought of the matter is
this,--that the most poor, illiterate, and uninformed creatures upon
earth are judges of a _practical_ oppression. It is a matter of feeling;
and as such persons generally have felt most of it, and are not of an
over-lively sensibility, they are the best judges of it. But for _the
real cause_, or _the appropriate remedy_, they ought never to be called
into council about the one or the other. They ought to be totally shut
out: because their reason is weak; because, when once roused, their
passions are ungoverned; because they want information; because the
smallness of the property which individually they possess renders them
less attentive to the consequence of the measures they adopt in affairs
of moment. When I find a great cry amongst the people who speculate
little, I think myself called seriously to examine into it, and to
separate the real cause from the ill effects of the passion it may
excite, and the bad use which artful men may make of an irritation of
the popular mind. Here we must be aided by persons of a contrary
character; we must not listen to the desperate or the furious: but it is
therefore necessary for us to distinguish who are the _really_ indigent
and the _really_ intemperate. As to the persons who desire this part in
the Constitution, I have no reason to imagine that they are men who have
nothing to lose and much to look for in public confusion. The popular
meeting from which apprehensions have been entertained has assembled. I
have accidentally had conversation with two friends of mine who know
something of the gentleman who was put into the chair upon that
occasion: one of them has had money transactions with him; the other,
from curiosity, has been to see his concerns: they both tell me he is a
man of some property: but you must be the best judge of this, who by
your office are likely to know his transactions. Many of the others are
certainly persons of fortune; and all, or most, fathers of families,
men in respectable ways of life, and some of them far from contemptible,
either for their information, or for the abilities which they have shown
in the discussion of their interests. What such men think it for their
advantage to acquire ought not, _prima facie_, to be considered as rash
or heady or incompatible with the public safety or welfare.

I admit, that men of the best fortunes and reputations, and of the best
talents and education too, may by accident show themselves furious and
intemperate in their desires. This is a great misfortune, when it
happens; for the first presumptions are undoubtedly in their favor. We
have two standards of judging, in this case, of the sanity and sobriety
of any proceedings,--of unequal certainty, indeed, but neither of them
to be neglected: the first is by the value of the object sought; the
next is by the means through which it is pursued.

The object pursued by the Catholics is, I understand, and have all along
reasoned as if it were so, in some degree or measure to be again
admitted to the franchises of the Constitution. Men are considered as
under some derangement of their intellects, when they see good and evil
in a different light from other men,--when they choose nauseous and
unwholesome food, and reject such as to the rest of the world seems
pleasant and is known to be nutritive. I have always considered the
British Constitution not to be a thing in itself so vicious as that none
but men of deranged understanding and turbulent tempers could desire a
share in it: on the contrary, I should think very indifferently of the
understanding and temper of any body of men who did not wish to partake
of this great and acknowledged benefit. I cannot think quite so
favorably either of the sense or temper of those, if any such there are,
who would voluntarily persuade their brethren that the object is not fit
for them, or they for the object. Whatever may be my thoughts concerning
them, I am quite sure that they who hold such language must forfeit all
credit with the rest. This is infallible,--if they conceive any opinion
of their judgment, they cannot possibly think them their friends. There
is, indeed, one supposition which would reconcile the conduct of such
gentlemen to sound reason, and to the purest affection towards their
fellow-sufferers: it is, that they act under the impression of a
well-grounded fear for the general interest. If they should be told, and
should believe the story, that, if they dare attempt to make their
condition better, they will infallibly make it worse,--that, if they aim
at obtaining liberty, they will have their slavery doubled,--that their
endeavor to put themselves upon anything which approaches towards an
equitable footing with their fellow-subjects will be considered as an
indication of a seditious and rebellious disposition,--such a view of
things ought perfectly to restore the gentlemen, who so anxiously
dissuade their countrymen from wishing a participation with the
privileged part of the people, to the good opinion of their fellows. But
what is to _them_ a very full justification is not quite so honorable to
that power from whose maxims and temper so good a ground of rational
terror is furnished. I think arguments of this kind will never be used
by the friends of a government which I greatly respect, or by any of the
leaders of an opposition whom I have the honor to know and the sense to
admire. I remember Polybius tells us, that, during his captivity in
Italy as a Peloponnesian hostage, he solicited old Cato to intercede
with the Senate for his release, and that of his countrymen: this old
politician told him that he had better continue in his present
condition, however irksome, than apply again to that formidable
authority for their relief; that he ought to imitate the wisdom of his
countryman Ulysses, who, when he was once out of the den of the Cyclops,
had too much sense to venture again into the same cavern. But I conceive
too high an opinion of the Irish legislature to think that they are to
their fellow-citizens what the grand oppressors of mankind were to a
people whom the fortune of war had subjected to their power. For though
Cato could use such a parallel with regard to his Senate, I should
really think it nothing short of impious to compare an Irish Parliament
to a den of Cyclops. I hope the people, both here and with you, will
always apply to the House of Commons with becoming modesty, but at the
same time with minds unembarrassed with any sort of terror.

As to the means which the Catholics employ to obtain this object, so
worthy of sober and rational minds, I do admit that such means may be
used in the pursuit of it as may make it proper for the legislature, in
this case, to defer their compliance until the demandants are brought to
a proper sense of their duty. A concession in which the governing power
of our country loses its dignity is dearly bought even by him who
obtains his object. All the people have a deep interest in the dignity
of Parliament. But as the refusal of franchises which are drawn out of
the first vital stamina of the British Constitution is a very serious
thing, we ought to be very sure that the manner and spirit of the
application is offensive and dangerous indeed, before we ultimately
reject all applications of this nature. The mode of application, I hear,
is by petition. It is the manner in which all the sovereign powers of
the world are approached; and I never heard (except in the case of James
the Second) that any prince considered this manner of supplication to be
contrary to the humility of a subject or to the respect due to the
person or authority of the sovereign. This rule, and a correspondent
practice, are observed from the Grand Seignior down to the most petty
prince or republic in Europe.

You have sent me several papers, some in print, some in manuscript. I
think I had seen all of them, except the formula of association. I
confess they appear to me to contain matter mischievous, and capable of
giving alarm, if the spirit in which they are written should be found to
make any considerable progress. But I am at a loss to know how to apply
them as objections to the case now before us. When I find that _the
General Committee_ which acts for the Roman Catholics in Dublin prefers
the association proposed in the written draught you have sent me to a
respectful application in Parliament, I shall think the persons who sign
such a paper to be unworthy of any privilege which may be thought fit to
be granted, and that such men ought, _by name_, to be excepted from any
benefit under the Constitution to which they offer this violence. But I
do not find that this form of a seditious league has been signed by any
person whatsoever, either on the part of the supposed projectors, or on
the part of those whom it is calculated to seduce. I do not find, on
inquiry, that such a thing was mentioned, or even remotely alluded to,
in the general meeting of the Catholics from which so much violence was
apprehended. I have considered the other publications, signed by
individuals on the part of certain societies,--I may mistake, for I have
not the honor of knowing them personally, but I take Mr. Butler and Mr.
Tandy not to be Catholics, but members of the Established Church. Not
_one_ that I recollect of these publications, which you and I equally
dislike, appears to be written by persons of that persuasion. Now, if,
whilst a man is dutifully soliciting a favor from Parliament, any person
should choose in an improper manner to show his inclination towards the
cause depending, and if that _must_ destroy the cause of the petitioner,
then, not only the petitioner, but the legislature itself, is in the
power of any weak friend or artful enemy that the supplicant or that the
Parliament may have. A man must be judged by his own actions only.
Certain Protestant Dissenters make seditious propositions to the
Catholics, which it does not appear that they have yet accepted. It
would be strange that the tempter should escape all punishment, and that
he who, under circumstances full of seduction and full of provocation,
has resisted the temptation should incur the penalty. You know, that,
with regard to the Dissenters, who are _stated_ to be the chief movers
in this vile scheme of altering the principles of election to a right of
voting by the head, you are not able (if you ought even to wish such a
thing) to deprive them of any part of the franchises and privileges
which they hold on a footing of perfect equality with yourselves. _They_
may do what they please with constitutional impunity; but the others
cannot even listen with civility to an invitation from them to an
ill-judged scheme of liberty, without forfeiting forever all hopes of
any of those liberties which we admit to be sober and rational.

It is known, I believe, that the greater as well as the sounder part of
our excluded countrymen have not adopted the wild ideas and wilder
engagements which have been held out to them, but have rather chosen to
hope small and safe concessions from the legal power than boundless
objects from trouble and confusion. This mode of action seems to me to
mark men of sobriety, and to distinguish them from those who are
intemperate, from circumstance or from nature. But why do they not
instantly disclaim and disavow those who make such advances to them? In
this, too, in my opinion, they show themselves no less sober and
circumspect. In the present moment nothing short of insanity could
induce them to take such a step. Pray consider the circumstances.
Disclaim, says somebody, all union with the Dissenters;--right.--But
when this your injunction is obeyed, shall I obtain the object which I
solicit from _you_?--Oh, no, nothing at all like it!--But, in punishing
us, by an exclusion from the Constitution through the great gate, for
having been invited to enter into it by a postern, will you punish by
deprivation of their privileges, or mulet in any other way, those who
have tempted us?--Far from it;--we mean to preserve all _their_
liberties and immunities, as _our_ life-blood. We mean to cultivate
_them_, as brethren whom we love and respect;--with _you_ we have no
fellowship. We can bear with patience their enmity to ourselves; but
their friendship with you we will not endure. But mark it well! All our
quarrels with _them_ are always to be revenged upon _you_. Formerly, it
is notorious that we should have resented with the highest indignation
your presuming to show any ill-will to them. You must not suffer them,
now, to show any good-will to you. Know--and take it once for all--that
it is, and ever has been, and ever will be, a fundamental maxim in our
politics, that you are not to have any part or shadow or name of
interest whatever in our state; that we look upon you as under an
irreversible outlawry from our Constitution,--as perpetual and
unalliable aliens.

Such, my dear Sir, is the plain nature of the argument drawn from the
Revolution maxims, enforced by a supposed disposition in the Catholics
to unite with the Dissenters. Such it is, though it were clothed in
never such bland and civil forms, and wrapped up, as a poet says, in a
thousand "artful folds of sacred lawn." For my own part, I do not know
in what manner to shape such arguments, so as to obtain admission for
them into a rational understanding. Everything of this kind is to be
reduced at last to threats of power. I cannot say, _Væ victis_! and then
throw the sword into the scale. I have no sword; and if I had, in this
case, most certainly, I would not use it as a makeweight in political
reasoning.

Observe, on these principles, the difference between the procedure of
the Parliament and the Dissenters towards the people in question. One
employs courtship, the other force. The Dissenters offer bribes, the
Parliament nothing but the _front négatif_ of a stern and forbidding
authority. A man may be very wrong in his ideas of what is good for
him. But no man affronts me, nor can therefore justify my affronting
him, by offering to make me as happy as himself, according to his own
ideas of happiness. This the Dissenters do to the Catholics. You are on
the different extremes. The Dissenters offer, with regard to
constitutional rights and civil advantages of all sorts, _everything_;
you refuse _everything_. With them, there is boundless, though not very
assured hope; with you, a very sure and very unqualified despair. The
terms of alliance from the Dissenters offer a representation of the
commons, chosen out of the people by the head. This is absurdly and
dangerously large, in my opinion; and that scheme of election is known
to have been at all times perfectly odious to me. But I cannot think it
right of course to punish the Irish Roman Catholics by an universal
exclusion, because others, whom you would not punish at all, propose an
universal admission. I cannot dissemble to myself, that, in this very
kingdom, many persons who are not in the situation of the Irish
Catholics, but who, on the contrary, enjoy the full benefit of the
Constitution as it stands, and some of whom, from the effect of their
fortunes, enjoy it in a large measure, had some years ago associated to
procure great and undefined changes (they considered them as reforms) in
the popular part of the Constitution. Our friend, the late Mr. Flood,
(no slight man,) proposed in his place, and in my hearing, a
representation not much less extensive than this, for England,--in which
every house was to be inhabited by a voter, _in addition_ to all the
actual votes by other titles (some of the corporate) which we know do
not require a house or a shed. Can I forget that a person of the very
highest rank, of very large fortune, and of the first class of ability,
brought a bill into the House of Lords, in the head-quarters of
aristocracy, containing identically the same project for the supposed
adoption of which by a club or two it is thought right to extinguish all
hopes in the Roman Catholics of Ireland? I cannot say it was very
eagerly embraced or very warmly pursued. But the Lords neither did
disavow the bill, nor treat it with any disregard, nor express any sort
of disapprobation of its noble author, who has never lost, with king or
people, the least degree of the respect and consideration which so
justly belongs to him.

I am not at all enamored, as I have told you, with this plan of
representation; as little do I relish any bandings or associations for
procuring it. But if the question was to be put to you and
me,--_Universal_ popular representation, or _none at all for us and
ours_,--we should find ourselves in a very awkward position. I do not
like this kind of dilemmas, especially when they are practical.

Then, since our oldest fundamental laws follow, or rather couple,
freehold with franchise,--since no principle of the Revolution shakes
these liberties,--since the oldest and one of the best monuments of the
Constitution demands for the Irish the privilege which they
supplicate,--since the principles of the Revolution coincide with the
declarations of the Great Charter,--since the practice of the
Revolution, in this point, did not contradict its principles,--since,
from that event, twenty-five years had elapsed, before a domineering
party, on a party principle, had ventured to disfranchise, without any
proof whatsoever of abuse, the greater part of the community,--since the
king's coronation oath does not stand in his way to the performance of
his duty to all his subjects,--since you have given to all other
Dissenters these privileges without limit which are hitherto withheld
without any limitation whatsoever from the Catholics,--since no nation
in the world has ever been known to exclude so great a body of men (not
born slaves) from the civil state, and all the benefits of its
Constitution,--the whole question comes before Parliament as a matter
for its prudence. I do not put the thing on a question of right. That
discretion, which in judicature is well said by Lord Coke to be a
crooked cord, in legislature is a golden rule. Supplicants ought not to
appear too much in the character of litigants. If the subject thinks so
highly and reverently of the sovereign authority as not to claim
anything of right, so that it may seem to be independent of the power
and free choice of its government,--and if the sovereign, on his part,
considers the advantages of the subjects as their right, and all their
reasonable wishes as so many claims,--in the fortunate conjunction of
these mutual dispositions are laid the foundations of a happy and
prosperous commonwealth. For my own part, desiring of all things that
the authority of the legislature under which I was born, and which I
cherish, not only with a dutiful awe, but with a partial and cordial
affection, to be maintained in the utmost possible respect, I never will
suffer myself to suppose that at bottom their discretion will be found
to be at variance with their justice.

The whole being at discretion, I beg leave just to suggest some matters
for your consideration:--Whether the government in Church or State is
likely to be more secure by continuing causes of grounded discontent to
a very great number (say two millions) of the subjects? or whether the
Constitution, combined and balanced as it is, will be rendered more
solid by depriving so large a part of the people of all concern or
interest or share in its representation, actual or _virtual_? I here
mean to lay an emphasis on the word _virtual_. Virtual representation is
that in which there is a communion of interests and a sympathy in
feelings and desires between those who act in the name of any
description of people and the people in whose name they act, though the
trustees are not actually chosen by them. This is virtual
representation. Such a representation I think to be in many cases even
better than the actual. It possesses most of its advantages, and is free
from many of its inconveniences; it corrects the irregularities in the
literal representation, when the shifting current of human affairs or
the acting of public interests in different ways carry it obliquely from
its first line of direction. The people may err in their choice; but
common interest and common sentiment are rarely mistaken. But this sort
of virtual representation cannot have a long or sure existence, if it
has not a substratum in the actual. The member must have some relation
to the constituent. As things stand, the Catholic, as a Catholic, and
belonging to a description, has no _virtual_ relation to the
representative,--but the _contrary_. There is a relation in mutual
obligation. Gratitude may not always have a very lasting power; but the
frequent recurrence of an application for favors will revive and refresh
it, and will necessarily produce some degree of mutual attention. It
will produce, at least, acquaintance. The several descriptions of people
will not be kept so much apart as they now are, as if they were not
only separate nations, but separate species. The stigma and reproach,
the hideous mask will be taken off, and men will see each other as they
are. Sure I am that there have been thousands in Ireland who have never
conversed with a Roman Catholic in their whole lives, unless they
happened to talk to their gardener's workmen, or to ask their way, when
they had lost it in their sports,--or, at best, who had known them only
as footmen, or other domestics, of the second and third order: and so
averse were they, some time ago, to have them near their persons, that
they would not employ even those who could never find their way beyond
the stable. I well remember a great, and in many respects a good man,
who advertised for a blacksmith, but at the same time added, he must be
a Protestant. It is impossible that such a state of things, though
natural goodness in many persons will undoubtedly make exceptions, must
not produce alienation on the one side and pride and insolence on the
other.

Reduced to a question of discretion, and that discretion exercised
solely upon what will appear best for the conservation of the state on
its present basis, I should recommend it to your serious thoughts,
whether the narrowing of the foundation is always the best way to secure
the building? The body of disfranchised men will not be perfectly
satisfied to remain always in that state. If they are not satisfied, you
have two millions of subjects in your bosom full of uneasiness: not that
they cannot overturn the Act of Settlement, and put themselves and you
under an arbitrary master; or that they are not permitted to spawn a
hydra of wild republics, on principles of a pretended natural equality
in man; but because you will not suffer them to enjoy the ancient,
fundamental, tried advantages of a British Constitution,--that you will
not permit them to profit of the protection of a common father or the
freedom of common citizens, and that the only reason which can be
assigned for this disfranchisement has a tendency more deeply to
ulcerate their minds than the act of exclusion itself. What the
consequence of such feelings must be it is for you to look to. To warn
is not to menace.

I am far from asserting that men will not excite disturbances without
just cause. I know that such an assertion is not true. But neither is it
true that disturbances have never just complaints for their origin. I am
sure that it is hardly prudent to furnish them with such causes of
complaint as every man who thinks the British Constitution a benefit may
think at least colorable and plausible.

Several are in dread of the manoeuvres of certain persons among the
Dissenters, who turn this ill humor to their own ill purposes. You know,
better than I can, how much these proceedings of certain among the
Dissenters are to be feared. You are to weigh, with the temper which is
natural to you, whether it may be for the safety of our establishment
that the Catholics should be ultimately persuaded that they have no hope
to enter into the Constitution but through the Dissenters.

Think whether this be the way to prevent or dissolve factious
combinations against the Church or the State. Reflect seriously on the
possible consequences of keeping in the heart of your country a bank of
discontent, every hour accumulating, upon which every description of
seditious men may draw at pleasure. They whose principles of faction
will dispose them to the establishment of an arbitrary monarchy will
find a nation of men who have no sort of interest in freedom, but who
will have an interest in that equality of justice or favor with which a
wise despot must view all his subjects who do not attack the foundations
of his power. Love of liberty itself may, in such men, become the means
of establishing an arbitrary domination. On the other hand, they who
wish for a democratic republic will find a set of men who have no choice
between civil servitude and the entire ruin of a mixed Constitution.

Suppose the people of Ireland divided into three parts. Of these, (I
speak within compass,) two are Catholic; of the remaining third, one
half is composed of Dissenters. There is no natural union between those
descriptions. It may be produced. If the two parts Catholic be driven
into a close confederacy with half the third part of Protestants, with a
view to a change in the Constitution in Church or State or both, and you
rest the whole of their security on a handful of gentlemen, clergy, and
their dependents,--compute the strength _you have in Ireland_, to oppose
to grounded discontent, to capricious innovation, to blind popular fury,
and to ambitious, turbulent intrigue.

You mention that the minds of some gentlemen are a good deal heated, and
that it is often said, that, rather than submit to such persons, having
a share in their franchises, they would throw up their independence, and
precipitate an union with Great Britain. I have heard a discussion
concerning such an union amongst all sorts of men ever since I remember
anything. For my own part, I have never been able to bring my mind to
anything clear and decisive upon the subject. There cannot be a more
arduous question. As far as I can form an opinion, it would not be for
the mutual advantage of the two kingdoms. Persons, however, more able
than I am think otherwise. But whatever the merits of this union may be,
to make it a _menace_, it must be shown to be an _evil_, and an evil
more particularly to those who are threatened with it than to those who
hold it out as a terror. I really do not see how this threat of an union
can operate, or that the Catholics are more likely to be losers by that
measure than the churchmen.

The humors of the people, and of politicians too, are so variable in
themselves, and are so much under the occasional influence of some
leading men, that it is impossible to know what turn the public mind
here would take on such an event. There is but one thing certain
concerning it. Great divisions and vehement passions would precede this
union, both on the measure itself and on its terms; and particularly,
this very question of a share in the representation for the Catholics,
from whence the project of an union originated, would form a principal
part in the discussion; and in the temper in which some gentlemen seem
inclined to throw themselves, by a sort of high, indignant passion, into
the scheme, those points would not be deliberated with all possible
calmness.

From my best observation, I should greatly doubt, whether, in the end,
these gentlemen would obtain their object, so as to make the exclusion
of two millions of their countrymen a fundamental article in the union.
The demand would be of a nature quite unprecedented. You might obtain
the union; and yet a gentleman, who, under the new union establishment,
would aspire to the honor of representing his county, might possibly be
as much obliged, as he may fear to be under the old separate
establishment, to the unsupportable mortification of asking his
neighbors, who have a different opinion concerning the elements in the
sacrament, for their votes.

I believe, nay, I am sure, that the people of Great Britain, with or
without an union, might be depended upon, in oases of any real danger,
to aid the government of Ireland, with the same cordiality as they would
support their own, against any wicked attempts to shake the security of
the happy Constitution in Church and State. But before Great Britain
engages in any quarrel, the _cause of the dispute_ would certainly be a
part of her consideration. If confusions should arise in that kingdom
from too steady an attachment to a proscriptive, monopolizing system,
and from the resolution of regarding the franchise, and in it the
security of the subject, as belonging rather to religious opinions than
to civil qualification and civil conduct, I doubt whether you might
quite certainly reckon on obtaining an aid of force from hence for the
support of that system. We might extend your distractions to this
country by taking part in them. England will be indisposed, I suspect,
to send an army for the conquest of Ireland. What was done in 1782 is a
decisive proof of her sentiments of justice and moderation. She will not
be fond of making another American war in Ireland. The principles of
such a war would but too much resemble the former one. The well-disposed
and the ill-disposed in England would (for different reasons perhaps)
be equally averse to such an enterprise. The confiscations, the public
auctions, the private grants, the plantations, the transplantations,
which formerly animated so many adventurers, even among sober citizens,
to such Irish expeditions, and which possibly might have animated some
of them to the American, can have no existence in the case that we
suppose.

Let us form a supposition, (no foolish or ungrounded supposition,) that,
in an age when men are infinitely more disposed to heat themselves with
political than religious controversies, the former should entirely
prevail, as we see that in some places they have prevailed, over the
latter,--and that the Catholics of Ireland, from the courtship paid them
on the one hand, and the high tone of refusal on the other, should, in
order to enter into all the rights of subjects, all become Protestant
Dissenters, and, as the others do, take all your oaths. They would all
obtain their civil objects; and the change, for anything I know to the
contrary, (in the dark as I am about the Protestant Dissenting tenets,)
might be of use to the health of their souls. But what security our
Constitution, in Church or State, could derive from that event, I cannot
possibly discern. Depend upon it, it is as true as Nature is true, that,
if you force them out of the religion of habit, education, or opinion,
it is not to yours they will ever go. Shaken in their minds, they will
go to that where the dogmas are fewest,--where they are the most
uncertain,--where they lead them the least to a consideration of what
they have abandoned. They will go to that uniformly democratic system to
whose first movements they owed their emancipation. I recommend you
seriously to turn this in your mind. Believe that it requires your best
and maturest thoughts. Take what course you please,--union or no union;
whether the people remain Catholics or become Protestant Dissenters,
sure it is that the present state of monopoly _cannot_ continue.

If England were animated, as I think she is not, with her former spirit
of domination, and with the strong theological hatred which she once
cherished for that description of her fellow-Christians and
fellow-subjects, I am yet convinced, that, after the fullest success in
a ruinous struggle, you would be obliged to abandon that monopoly. We
were obliged to do this, even when everything promised success, in the
American business. If you should make this experiment at last, under the
pressure of any necessity, you never can do it well. But if, instead of
falling into a passion, the leading gentlemen of the country themselves
should undertake the business cheerfully, and with hearty affection
towards it, great advantages would follow. What is forced cannot be
modified: but here you may measure your concessions.

It is a consideration of great moment, that you make the desired
admission without altering the system of your representation in the
smallest degree or in any part. You may leave that deliberation of a
Parliamentary change or reform, if ever you should think fit to engage
in it, uncomplicated and unembarrassed with the other question. Whereas,
if they are mixed and confounded, as some people attempt to mix and
confound them, no one can answer for the effects on the Constitution
itself.

There is another advantage in taking up this business singly and by an
arrangement for the single object. It is that you may proceed by
_degrees_. We must all obey the great law of change. It is the most
powerful law of Nature, and the means perhaps of its conservation. All
we can do, and that human wisdom can do, is to provide that the change
shall proceed by insensible degrees. This has all the benefits which may
be in change, without any of the inconveniences of mutation. Everything
is provided for as it arrives. This mode will, on the one hand, prevent
the _unfixing old interests at once_: a thing which is apt to breed a
black and sullen discontent in those who are at once dispossessed of all
their influence and consideration. This gradual course, on the other
side, will prevent men long under depression from being intoxicated with
a large draught of new power, which they always abuse with a licentious
insolence. But, wishing, as I do, the change to be gradual and cautious,
I would, in my first steps, lean rather to the side of enlargement than
restriction.

It is one excellence of our Constitution, that all our rights of
provincial election regard rather property than person. It is another,
that the rights which approach more nearly to the personal are most of
them corporate, and suppose a restrained and strict education of seven
years in some useful occupation. In both cases the practice may have
slid from the principle. The standard of qualification in both cases may
be so low, or not so judiciously chosen, as in some degree to frustrate
the end. But all this is for your prudence in the case before you. You
may rise a step or two the qualification of the Catholic voters. But if
you were to-morrow to put the Catholic freeholder on the footing of the
most favored forty-shilling Protestant Dissenter, you know, that, such
is the actual state of Ireland, this would not make a sensible
alteration in almost any _one_ election in the kingdom. The effect in
their favor, even defensively, would be infinitely slow. But it would be
healing; it would be satisfactory and protecting. The stigma would be
removed. By admitting settled, permanent substance in lieu of the
numbers, you would avoid the great danger of our time, that of setting
up number against property. The numbers ought never to be neglected,
because (besides what is due to them as men) collectively, though not
individually, they have great property: they ought to have, therefore,
protection; they ought to have security; they ought to have even
consideration: but they ought not to predominate.

My dear Sir, I have nearly done. I meant to write you a long letter: I
have written a long dissertation. I might have done it earlier and
better. I might have been more forcible and more clear, if I had not
been interrupted as I have been; and this obliges me not to write to you
in my own hand. Though my hand but signs it, my heart goes with what I
have written. Since I could think at all, those have been my thoughts.
You know that thirty-two years ago they were as fully matured in my mind
as they are now. A letter of mine to Lord Kenmare, though not by my
desire, and full of lesser mistakes, has been printed in Dublin. It was
written ten or twelve years ago, at the time when I began the
employment, which I have not yet finished, in favor of another
distressed people, injured by those who have vanquished them, or stolen
a dominion over them. It contained my sentiments then: you will see how
far they accord with my sentiments now. Time has more and more confirmed
me in them all. The present circumstances fix them deeper in my mind.

I voted last session, if a particular vote could be distinguished in
unanimity, for an establishment of the Church of England _conjointly_
with the establishment, which was made some years before by act of
Parliament, of the Roman Catholic, in the French conquered country of
Canada. At the time of making this English ecclesiastical establishment,
we did not think it necessary for its safety to destroy the former
Gallican Church settlement. In our first act we settled a government
altogether monarchical, or nearly so. In that system, the Canadian
Catholics were far from being deprived of the advantages or
distinctions, of any kind, which they enjoyed under their former
monarchy. It is true that some people, and amongst them one eminent
divine, predicted at that time that by this step we should lose our
dominions in America. He foretold that the Pope would send his
indulgences hither; that the Canadians would fall in with France, would
declare independence, and draw or force our colonies into the same
design. The independence happened according to his prediction; but in
directly the reverse order. All our English Protestant colonies
revolted. They joined themselves to France; and it so happened that
Popish Canada was the only place which preserved its fidelity, the only
place in which France got no footing, the only peopled colony which now
remains to Great Britain. Vain are all the prognostics taken from ideas
and passions, which survive the state of things which gave rise to them.
When last year we gave a popular representation to the same Canada by
the choice of the landholders, and an aristocratic representation at the
choice of the crown, neither was the choice of the crown nor the
election of the landholders limited by a consideration of religion. We
had no dread for the Protestant Church which we settled there, because
we permitted the French Catholics, in the utmost latitude of the
description, to be free subjects. They are good subjects, I have no
doubt; but I will not allow that any French Canadian Catholics are
better men or better citizens than the Irish of the same communion.
Passing from the extremity of the West to the extremity almost of the
East, I have been many years (now entering into the twelfth) employed in
supporting the rights, privileges, laws, and immunities of a very remote
people. I have not as yet been able to finish my task. I have struggled
through much discouragement and much opposition, much obloquy, much
calumny, for a people with whom I have no tie but the common bond of
mankind. In this I have not been left alone. We did not fly from our
undertaking because the people are Mahometans or Pagans, and that a
great majority of the Christians amongst them are Papists. Some
gentlemen in Ireland, I dare say, have good reasons for what they may
do, which do not occur to me. I do not presume to condemn them; but,
thinking and acting as I have done towards those remote nations, I
should not know how to show my face, here or in Ireland, if I should say
that all the Pagans, all the Mussulmen, and even all the Papists, (since
they must form the highest stage in the climax of evil,) are worthy of a
liberal and honorable condition, except those of one of the
descriptions, which forms the majority of the inhabitants of the
country in which you and I were born. If such are the Catholics of
Ireland, ill-natured and unjust people, from our own data, may be
inclined not to think better of the Protestants of a soil which is
supposed to infuse into its sects a kind of venom unknown in other
places.

You hated the old system as early as I did. Your first juvenile lance
was broken against that giant. I think you were even the first who
attacked the grim phantom. You have an exceedingly good understanding,
very good humor, and the best heart in the world. The dictates of that
temper and that heart, as well as the policy pointed out by that
understanding, led you to abhor the old code. You abhorred it, as I did,
for its vicious perfection. For I must do it justice: it was a complete
system, full of coherence and consistency, well digested and well
composed in all its parts. It was a machine of wise and elaborate
contrivance, and as well fitted for the oppression, impoverishment, and
degradation of a people, and the debasement, in them, of human nature
itself, as ever proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man. It is a
thing humiliating enough, that we are doubtful of the effect of the
medicines we compound,--we are sure of our poisons. My opinion ever was,
(in which I heartily agree with those that admired the old code,) that
it was so constructed, that, if there was once a breach in any essential
part of it, the ruin of the whole, or nearly of the whole, was, at some
time or other, a certainty. For that reason I honor and shall forever
honor and love you, and those who first caused it to stagger, crack, and
gape. Others may finish; the beginners have the glory; and, take what
part you please at this hour, (I think you will take the best,) your
first services will never be forgotten by a grateful country. Adieu!
Present my best regards to those I know,--and as many as I know in our
country I honor. There never was so much ability, nor, I believe, virtue
in it. They have a task worthy of both. I doubt not they will perform
it, for the stability of the Church and State, and for the union and the
separation of the people: for the union of the honest and peaceable of
all sects; for their separation from all that is ill-intentioned and
seditious in any of them.

BEACONSFIELD, JANUARY 3, 1792.

FOOTNOTES:

[28] The letter is written on folio sheets.

[29] A small error of fact as to the abjuration oath, but of no
importance in the argument.




HINTS FOR A MEMORIAL

TO BE DELIVERED TO

MONSIEUR DE M.M.

WRITTEN IN THE EARLY PART OF 1791


The King, my master, from his sincere desire of keeping up a good
correspondence with his Most Christian Majesty and the French nation,
has for some time beheld with concern the condition into which that
sovereign and nation have fallen.

Notwithstanding the reality and the warmth of those sentiments, his
Britannic Majesty has hitherto forborne in any manner to take part in
their affairs, in hopes that the common interest of king and subjects
would render all parties sensible of the necessity of settling their
government and their freedom upon principles of moderation, as the only
means of securing permanence to both those blessings, as well as
internal and external tranquillity to the kingdom of France, and to all
Europe.

His Britannic Majesty finds, to his great regret, that his hopes have
not been realized. He finds that confusions and disorders have rather
increased than diminished, and that they now threaten to proceed to
dangerous extremities.

In this situation of things, the same regard to a neighboring sovereign
living in friendship with Great Britain, the same spirit of good-will to
the kingdom of France, the same regard to the general tranquillity,
which have caused him to view with concern the growth and continuance of
the present disorders, have induced the King of Great Britain to
interpose his good offices towards a reconcilement of those unhappy
differences. This his Majesty does with the most cordial regard to the
good of all descriptions concerned, and with the most perfect sincerity,
wholly removing from his royal mind all memory of every circumstance
which might impede him in the execution of a plan of benevolence which
he has so much at heart.

His Majesty, having always thought it his greatest glory that he rules
over a people perfectly and solidly, because soberly, rationally, and
legally free, can never be supposed to proceed in offering thus his
royal mediation, but with an unaffected desire and full resolution to
consider the settlement of a free constitution in France as the very
basis of any agreement between the sovereign and those of his subjects
who are unhappily at variance with him,--to guaranty it to them, if it
should be desired, in the most solemn and authentic manner, and to do
all that in him lies to procure the like guaranty from other powers.

His Britannic Majesty, in the same manner, assures the Most Christian
King that he knows too well and values too highly what is due to the
dignity and rights of crowned heads, and to the implied faith of
treaties which have always been made with the _crown_ of France, ever to
listen to any proposition by which that monarchy shall be despoiled of
all its rights, so essential for the support of the consideration of the
prince and the concord and welfare of the people.

If, unfortunately, a due attention should not be paid to these his
Majesty's benevolent and neighborly offers, or if any circumstances
should prevent the Most Christian King from acceding (as his Majesty
has no doubt he is well disposed to do) to this healing mediation in
favor of himself and all his subjects, his Majesty has commanded me to
take leave of this court, as not conceiving it to be suitable to the
dignity of his crown, and to what he owes to his faithful people, any
longer to keep a public minister at the court of a sovereign who is not
in possession of his own liberty.




THOUGHTS

ON

FRENCH AFFAIRS,

ETC., ETC.

WRITTEN IN DECEMBER, 1791.




THOUGHTS ON FRENCH AFFAIRS.


In all our transactions with France, and at all periods, we have treated
with that state on the footing of a monarchy. Monarchy was considered in
all the external relations of that kingdom with every power in Europe as
its legal and constitutional government, and that in which alone its
federal capacity was vested.

[Sidenote: Montmorin's Letter.]

It is not yet a year since Monsieur de Montmorin formally, and with as
little respect as can be imagined to the king, and to all crowned heads,
announced a total Revolution in that country. He has informed the
British ministry that its frame of government is wholly altered,--that
he is one of the ministers of the new system,--and, in effect, that the
king is no longer his master, (nor does he even call him such,) but the
"_first of the ministers_," in the new system.

[Sidenote: Acceptance of the Constitution ratified.]

The second notification was that of the king's acceptance of the new
Constitution, accompanied with fanfaronades in the modern style of the
French bureaus: things which have much more the air and character of the
saucy declamations of their clubs than the tone of regular office.

It has not been very usual to notify to foreign courts anything
concerning the internal arrangements of any state. In the present case,
the circumstance of these two notifications, with the observations with
which they are attended, does not leave it in the choice of the
sovereigns of Christendom to appear ignorant either of this French
Revolution or (what is more important) of its principles.

We know, that, very soon after this manifesto of Monsieur de Montmorin,
the king of France, in whose name it was made, found himself obliged to
fly, with his whole family,--leaving behind him a declaration in which
he disavows and annuls that Constitution, as having been the effect of
force on his person and usurpation on his authority. It is equally
notorious, that this unfortunate prince was, with many circumstances of
insult and outrage, brought back prisoner by a deputation of the
pretended National Assembly, and afterwards suspended by their authority
from his government. Under equally notorious constraint, and under
menaces of total deposition, he has been compelled to accept what they
call a Constitution, and to agree to whatever else the usurped power
which holds him in confinement thinks proper to impose.

His nest brother, who had fled with him, and his third brother, who had
fled before him, all the princes of his blood who remained faithful to
him, and the flower of his magistracy, his clergy, and his nobility,
continue in foreign countries, protesting against all acts done by him
in his present situation, on the grounds upon which he had himself
protested against them at the time of his flight,--with this addition,
that they deny his very competence (as on good grounds they may) to
abrogate the royalty, or the ancient constitutional orders of the
kingdom. In this protest they are joined by three hundred of the late
Assembly itself, and, in effect, by a great part of the French nation.
The new government (so far as the people dare to disclose their
sentiments) is disdained, I am persuaded, by the greater number,--who,
as M. de La Fayette complains, and as the truth is, have declined to
take any share in the new elections to the National Assembly, either as
candidates or electors.

In this state of things, (that is, in the case of a _divided_ kingdom,)
by the law of nations,[30] Great Britain, like every other power, is
free to take any part she pleases. She may decline, with more or less
formality, according to her discretion, to acknowledge this new system;
or she may recognize it as a government _de facto_, setting aside all
discussion of its original legality, and considering the ancient
monarchy as at an end. The law of nations leaves our court open to its
choice. We have no direction but what is found in the well-understood
policy of the king and kingdom.

This declaration of a _new species_ of government, on new principles,
(such it professes itself to be,) is a real crisis in the politics of
Europe. The conduct which prudence ought to dictate to Great Britain
will not depend (as hitherto our connection or quarrel with other states
has for some time depended) upon merely _external_ relations, but in a
great measure also upon the system which we may think it right to adopt
for the internal government of our own country.

If it be our policy to assimilate our government to that of France, we
ought to prepare for this change by encouraging the schemes of authority
established there. We ought to wink at the captivity and deposition of
a prince with whom, if not in close alliance, we were in friendship. We
ought to fall in with the ideas of Monsieur Montmorin's circular
manifesto, and to do business of course with the functionaries who act
under the new power by which that king to whom his Majesty's minister
has been sent to reside has been deposed and imprisoned. On that idea we
ought also to withhold all sorts of direct or indirect countenance from
those who are treating in Germany for the reëstablishment of the French
monarchy and the ancient orders of that state. This conduct is suitable
to this policy.

The question is, whether this policy be suitable to the interests of the
crown and subjects of Great Britain. Let us, therefore, a little
consider the true nature and probable effects of the Revolution which,
in such a very unusual manner, has been twice diplomatically announced
to his Majesty.

[Sidenote: Difference between this Revolution and others.]

There have been many internal revolutions in the government of
countries, both as to persons and forms, in which the neighboring states
have had little or no concern. Whatever the government might be with
respect to those persons and those forms, the stationary interests of
the nation concerned have most commonly influenced the new governments
in the same manner in which they influenced the old; and the revolution,
turning on matter of local grievance or of local accommodation, did not
extend beyond its territory.

[Sidenote: Nature of the French Revolution.]

The present Revolution in France seems to me to be quite of another
character and description, and to bear little resemblance or analogy to
any of those which have been brought about in Europe, upon principles
merely political. _It is a Revolution of doctrine and theoretic dogma_.
It has a much greater resemblance to those changes which have been made
upon religious grounds, in which a spirit of proselytism makes an
essential part.

The last revolution of doctrine and theory which has happened in Europe
is the Reformation. It is not for my purpose to take any notice here of
the merits of that revolution, but to state one only of its effects.

[Sidenote: Its effects.]

That effect was, _to introduce other interests into all countries than
those which arose from their locality and natural circumstances_. The
principle of the Reformation was such as, by its essence, could not be
local or confined to the country in which it had its origin. For
instance, the doctrine of "Justification by Faith or by Works," which
was the original basis of the Reformation, could not have one of its
alternatives true as to Germany and false as to every other country.
Neither are questions of theoretic truth and falsehood governed by
circumstances any more than by places. On that occasion, therefore, the
spirit of proselytism expanded itself with great elasticity upon all
sides: and great divisions were everywhere the result.

These divisions, however in appearance merely dogmatic, soon became
mixed with the political; and their effects were rendered much more
intense from this combination. Europe was for a long time divided into
two great factions, under the name of Catholic and Protestant, which not
only often alienated state from state, but also divided almost every
state within itself. The warm parties in each state were more
affectionately attached to those of their own doctrinal interest in
some other country than to their fellow-citizens or to their natural
government, when they or either of them happened to be of a different
persuasion. These factions, wherever they prevailed, if they did not
absolutely destroy, at least weakened and distracted the locality of
patriotism. The public affections came to have other motives and other
ties.

It would be to repeat the history of the two last centuries to exemplify
the effects of this revolution.

Although the principles to which it gave rise did not operate with a
perfect regularity and constancy, they never wholly ceased to operate.
Few wars were made, and few treaties were entered into, in which they
did not come in for some part. They gave a color, a character, and
direction to all the politics of Europe.

[Sidenote: New system of politics.]

These principles of internal as well as external division and coalition
are but just now extinguished. But they who will examine into the true
character and genius of some late events must be satisfied that other
sources of faction, combining parties among the inhabitants of different
countries into one connection, are opened, and that from these sources
are likely to arise effects full as important as those which had
formerly arisen from the jarring interests of the religious sects. The
intention of the several actors in the change in France is not a matter
of doubt. It is very openly professed.

In the modern world, before this time, there has been no instance of
this spirit of general political faction, separated from religion,
pervading several countries, and forming a principle of union between
the partisans in each. But the thing is not less in human nature. The
ancient world has furnished a strong and striking instance of such a
ground for faction, full as powerful and full as mischievous as our
spirit of religions system had ever been, exciting in all the states of
Greece (European and Asiatic) the most violent animosities and the most
cruel and bloody persecutions and proscriptions. These ancient factions
in each commonwealth of Greece connected themselves with those of the
same description in some other states; and secret cabals and public
alliances were carried on and made, not upon a conformity of general
political interests, but for the support and aggrandizement of the two
leading states which headed the aristocratic and democratic factions.
For as, in later times, the king of Spain was at the head of a Catholic,
and the king of Sweden of a Protestant interest, (France, though
Catholic, acting subordinately to the latter,) in the like manner the
Lacedemonians were everywhere at the head of the aristocratic interests,
and the Athenians of the democratic. The two leading powers kept alive a
constant cabal and conspiracy in every state, and the political dogmas
concerning the constitution of a republic were the great instruments by
which these leading states chose to aggrandize themselves. Their choice
was not unwise; because the interest in opinions, (merely as opinions,
and without any experimental reference to their effects,) when once they
take strong hold of the mind, become the most operative of all
interests, and indeed very often supersede every other.

I might further exemplify the possibility of a political sentiment
running through various states, and combining factions in them, from the
history of the Middle Ages in the Guelfs and Ghibellines. These were
political factions originally in favor of the Emperor and the Pope, with
no mixture of religious dogmas: or if anything religiously doctrinal
they had in them originally, it very soon disappeared; as their first
political objects disappeared also, though the spirit remained. They
became no more than names to distinguish factions: but they were not the
less powerful in their operation, when they had no direct point of
doctrine, either religious or civil, to assert. For a long time,
however, those factions gave no small degree of influence to the foreign
chiefs in every commonwealth in which they existed. I do not mean to
pursue further the track of these parties. I allude to this part of
history only as it furnishes an instance of that species of faction
which broke the locality of public affections, and united descriptions
of citizens more with strangers than with their countrymen of different
opinions.

[Sidenote: French fundamental principle.]

The political dogma, which, upon the new French system, is to unite the
factions of different nations, is this: "That the majority, told by the
head, of the taxable people in every country, is the perpetual, natural,
unceasing, indefeasible sovereign; that this majority is perfectly
master of the form as well as the administration of the state, and that
the magistrates, under whatever names they are called, are only
functionaries to obey the orders (general as laws or particular as
decrees) which that majority may make; that this is the only natural
government; that all others are tyranny and usurpation."

[Sidenote: Practical project.]

In order to reduce this dogma into practice, the republicans in France,
and their associates in other countries, make it always their business,
and often their public profession, to destroy all traces of ancient
establishments, and to form a new commonwealth in each country, upon the
basis of the French _Rights of Man_. On the principle of these rights,
they mean to institute in every country, and as it were the germ of the
whole, parochial governments, for the purpose of what they call equal
representation. From them is to grow, by some media, a general council
and representative of all the parochial governments. In that
representative is to be vested the whole national power,--totally
abolishing hereditary name and office, levelling all conditions of men,
(except where money _must_ make a difference,) breaking all connection
between territory and dignity, and abolishing every species of nobility,
gentry, and Church establishments: all their priests and all their
magistrates being only creatures of election and pensioners at will.

Knowing how opposite a permanent landed interest is to that scheme, they
have resolved, and it is the great drift of all their regulations, to
reduce that description of men to a mere peasantry for the sustenance of
the towns, and to place the true effective government in cities, among
the tradesmen, bankers, and voluntary clubs of bold, presuming young
persons,--advocates, attorneys, notaries, managers of newspapers, and
those cabals of literary men called academies. Their republic is to have
a first functionary, (as they call him,) under the name of King, or not,
as they think fit. This officer, when such an officer is permitted, is,
however, neither in fact nor name to be considered as sovereign, nor the
people as his subjects. The very use of these appellations is offensive
to their ears.

[Sidenote: Partisans of the French system.]

This system, as it has first been realized, dogmatically as well as
practically, in France, makes France the natural head of all factions
formed on a similar principle, wherever they may prevail, as much as
Athens was the head and settled ally of all democratic factions,
wherever they existed. The other system has no head.

This system has very many partisans in every country in Europe, but
particularly in England, where they are already formed into a body,
comprehending most of the Dissenters of the three leading denominations.
To these are readily aggregated all who are Dissenters in character,
temper, and disposition, though not belonging to any of their
congregations: that is, all the restless people who resemble them, of
all ranks and all parties,--Whigs, and even Tories; the whole race of
half-bred speculators; all the Atheists, Deists, and Socinians; all
those who hate the clergy and envy the nobility; a good many among the
moneyed people; the East Indians almost to a man, who cannot bear to
find that their present importance does not bear a proportion to their
wealth. These latter have united themselves into one great, and, in my
opinion, formidable club,[31] which, though now quiet, may be brought
into action with considerable unanimity and force.

Formerly, few, except the ambitious great or the desperate and indigent,
were to be feared as instruments in revolutions. What has happened in
France teaches us, with many other things, that there are more causes
than have commonly been taken into our consideration, by which
government may be subverted. The moneyed men, merchants, principal
tradesmen, and men of letters (hitherto generally thought the peaceable
and even timid part of society) are the chief actors in the French
Revolution. But the fact is, that, as money increases and circulates,
and as the circulation of news in politics and letters becomes more and
more diffused, the persons who diffuse this money and this intelligence
become more and more important. This was not long undiscovered. Views of
ambition were in France, for the first time, presented to these classes
of men: objects in the state, in the army, in the system of civil
offices of every kind. Their eyes were dazzled with this new prospect.
They were, as it were, electrified, and made to lose the natural spirit
of their situation. A bribe, great without example in the history of the
world, was held out to them,--the whole government of a very large
kingdom.

[Sidenote: Grounds of security supposed for England.]

[Sidenote: Literary Interest.]

[Sidenote: Moneyed interest.]

There are several who are persuaded that the same thing cannot happen in
England, because here (they say) the occupations of merchants,
tradesmen, and manufacturers are not held as degrading situations. I
once thought that the low estimation in which commerce was held in
France might be reckoned among the causes of the late Revolution; and I
am still of opinion that the exclusive spirit of the French nobility did
irritate the wealthy of other classes. But I found long since, that
persons in trade and business were by no means despised in France in the
manner I had been taught to believe. As to men of letters, they were so
far from being despised or neglected, that there was no country,
perhaps, in the universe, in which they were so highly esteemed,
courted, caressed, and even feared: tradesmen naturally were not so much
sought in society, (as not furnishing so largely to the fund of
conversation as they do to the revenues of the state,) but the latter
description got forward every day. M. Bailly, who made himself the
popular mayor on the rebellion of the Bastile, and is a principal actor
in the revolt, before the change possessed a pension or office under the
crown of six hundred pound English a year,--for that country, no
contemptible provision; and this he obtained solely as a man of letters,
and on no other title. As to the moneyed men, whilst the monarchy
continued, there is no doubt, that, merely as such, they did not enjoy
the _privileges_ of nobility; but nobility was of so easy an
acquisition, that it was the fault or neglect of all of that description
who did not obtain its privileges, for their lives at least, in virtue
of office. It attached under the royal government to an innumerable
multitude of places, real and nominal, that were vendible; and such
nobility were as capable of everything as their degree of influence or
interest could make them,--that is, as nobility of no considerable rank
or consequence. M. Necker, so far from being a French gentleman, was not
so much as a Frenchman born, and yet we all know the rank in which he
stood on the day of the meeting of the States.

[Sidenote: Mercantile interest.]

As to the mere matter of estimation of the mercantile or any other
class, this is regulated by opinion and prejudice. In England, a
security against the envy of men in these classes is not so very
complete as we may imagine. We must not impose upon ourselves. What
institutions and manners together had done in France manners alone do
here. It is the natural operation of things, where there exists a crown,
a court, splendid orders of knighthood, and an hereditary
nobility,--where there exists a fixed, permanent, landed gentry,
continued in greatness and opulence by the law of primogeniture, and by
a protection given to family settlements,--where there exists a standing
army and navy,--where there exists a Church establishment, which bestows
on learning and parts an interest combined with that of religion and the
state;--in a country where such things exist, wealth, new in its
acquisition, and precarious in its duration, can never rank first, or
even near the first: though wealth has its natural weight further than
as it is balanced and even preponderated amongst us, as amongst other
nations, by artificial institutions and opinions growing out of them. At
no period in the history of England have so few peers been taken out of
trade or from families newly created by commerce. In no period has so
small a number of noble families entered into the counting-house. I can
call to mind but one in all England, and his is of near fifty years'
standing. Be that as it may, it appears plain to me, from my best
observation, that envy and ambition may, by art, management, and
disposition, be as much excited amongst these descriptions of men in
England as in any other country, and that they are just as capable of
acting a part in any great change.

[Sidenote: Progress of the French spirit.--Its course.]

What direction the French spirit of proselytism is likely to take, and
in what order it is likely to prevail in the several parts of Europe, it
is not easy to determine. The seeds are sown almost everywhere, chiefly
by newspaper circulations, infinitely more efficacious and extensive
than ever they were. And they are a more important instrument than
generally is imagined. They are a part of the reading of all; they are
the whole of the reading of the far greater number. There are thirty of
them in Paris alone. The language diffuses them more widely than the
English,--though the English, too, are much read. The writers of these
papers, indeed, for the greater part, are either unknown or in contempt,
but they are like a battery, in which the stroke of any one ball
produces no great effect, but the amount of continual repetition is
decisive. Let us only suffer any person to tell us his story, morning
and evening, but for one twelvemonth, and he will become our master.

All those countries in which several states are comprehended under some
general geographical description, and loosely united by some federal
constitution,--countries of which the members are small, and greatly
diversified in their forms of government, and in the titles by which
they are held,--these countries, as it might be well expected, are the
principal objects of their hopes and machinations. Of these, the chief
are Germany and Switzerland; after them, Italy has its place, as in
circumstances somewhat similar.

[Sidenote: Germany.]

As to Germany, (in which, from their relation to the Emperor, I
comprehend the Belgic Provinces,) it appears to me to be, from several
circumstances, internal and external, in a very critical situation; and
the laws and liberties of the Empire are by no means secure from the
contagion of the French doctrines and the effect of French intrigues, or
from the use which two of the greater German powers may make of a
general derangement to the general detriment. I do not say that the
French do not mean to bestow on these German states liberties, and laws
too, after their mode; but those are not what have hitherto been
understood as the laws and liberties of the Empire. These exist and have
always existed under the principles of feodal tenure and succession,
under imperial constitutions, grants and concessions of sovereigns,
family compacts, and public treaties, made under the sanction, and some
of them guarantied by the sovereign powers of other nations, and
particularly the old government of France, the author and natural
support of the Treaty of Westphalia.

[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical state.]

In short, the Germanic body is a vast mass of heterogeneous states, held
together by that heterogeneous body of old principles which formed the
public law positive and doctrinal. The modern laws and liberties, which
the new power in France proposes to introduce into Germany, and to
support with all its force of intrigue and of arms, is of a very
different nature, utterly irreconcilable with the first, and indeed
fundamentally the reverse of it: I mean the _rights and liberties of the
man_, the _droit de l'homme_. That this doctrine has made an amazing
progress in Germany there cannot be a shadow of doubt. They are infected
by it along the whole course of the Rhine, the Maese, the Moselle, and
in the greater part of Suabia and Franconia. It is particularly
prevalent amongst all the lower people, churchmen and laity, in the
dominions of the Ecclesiastical Electors. It is not easy to find or to
conceive governments more mild and indulgent than these Church
sovereignties; but good government is as nothing, when the rights of
man take possession of the mind. Indeed, the loose rein held over the
people in these provinces must be considered as one cause of the
facility with which they lend themselves to any schemes of innovation,
by inducing them to think lightly of their governments, and to judge of
grievances, not by feeling, but by imagination.

[Sidenote: Balance of Germany.]

It is in these Electorates that the first impressions of France are
likely to be made; and if they succeed, it is over with the Germanic
body, as it stands at present. A great revolution is preparing in
Germany, and a revolution, in my opinion, likely to be more decisive
upon the general fate of nations than that of France itself,--other than
as in France is to be found the first source of all the principles which
are in any way likely to distinguish the troubles and convulsions of our
age. If Europe does not conceive the independence and the equilibrium of
the Empire to be in the very essence of the system of balanced power in
Europe, and if the scheme of public law, or mass of laws, upon which
that independence and equilibrium are founded, be of no leading
consequence as they are preserved or destroyed, all the politics of
Europe for more than two centuries have been miserably erroneous.

[Sidenote: Prussia and Emperor.]

If the two great leading powers of Germany do not regard this danger (as
apparently they do not) in the light in which it presents itself so
naturally, it is because they are powers too great to have a social
interest. That sort of interest belongs only to those whose state of
weakness or mediocrity is such as to give them greater cause of
apprehension from what may destroy them than of hope from anything by
which they may be aggrandized.

As long as those two princes are at variance, so long the liberties of
Germany are safe. But if ever they should so far understand one another
as to be persuaded that they have a more direct and more certainly
defined interest in a proportioned mutual aggrandizement than in a
reciprocal reduction, that is, if they come to think that they are more
likely to be enriched by a division of spoil than to be rendered secure
by keeping to the old policy of preventing others from being spoiled by
either of them, from that moment the liberties of Germany are no more.

That a junction of two in such a scheme is neither impossible nor
improbable is evident from the partition of Poland in 1773, which was
effected by such a junction as made the interposition of other nations
to prevent it not easy. Their circumstances at that time hindered any
other three states, or indeed any two, from taking measures in common to
prevent it, though France was at that time an existing power, and had
not yet learned to act upon a system of politics of her own invention.
The geographical position of Poland was a great obstacle to any
movements of France in opposition to this, at that time, unparalleled
league. To my certain knowledge, if Great Britain had at that time been
willing to concur in preventing the execution of a project so dangerous
in the example, even exhausted as France then was by the preceding war,
and under a lazy and unenterprising prince, she would have at every risk
taken an active part in this business. But a languor with regard to so
remote an interest, and the principles and passions which were then
strongly at work at home, were the causes why Great Britain would not
give France any encouragement in such an enterprise. At that time,
however, and with regard to that object, in my opinion, Great Britain
and France had a common interest.

[Sidenote: Possible project of the Emperor and king of Prussia.]

But the position of Germany is not like that of Poland, with regard to
France, either for good or for evil. If a conjunction between Prussia
and the Emperor should be formed for the purpose of secularizing and
rendering hereditary the Ecclesiastical Electorates and the Bishopric of
Münster, for settling two of them on the children of the Emperor, and
uniting Cologne and Münster to the dominions of the king of Prussia on
the Rhine, or if any other project of mutual aggrandizement should be in
prospect, and that, to facilitate such a scheme, the modern French
should be permitted and encouraged to shake the internal and external
security of these Ecclesiastical Electorates, Great Britain is so
situated that she could not with any effect set herself in opposition to
such a design. Her principal arm, her marine, could here be of no sort
of use.

[Sidenote: To be resisted only by France.]

France, the author of the Treaty of Westphalia, is the natural guardian
of the independence and balance of Germany. Great Britain (to say
nothing of the king's concern as one of that august body) has a serious
interest in preserving it; but, except through the power of France,
_acting upon the common old principles of state policy_, in the case we
have supposed, she has no sort of means of supporting that interest. It
is always the interest of Great Britain that the power of France should
be kept within the bounds of moderation. It is not her interest that
that power should be wholly annihilated in the system of Europe. Though
at one time through France the independence of Europe was endangered, it
is, and ever was, through her alone that the common liberty of Germany
can be secured against the single or the combined ambition of any other
power. In truth, within this century the aggrandizement of other
sovereign houses has been such that there has been a great change in the
whole state of Europe; and other nations as well as France may become
objects of jealousy and apprehension.

[Sidenote: New principles of alliance.]

In this state of things, a new principle of alliances and wars is
opened. The Treaty of Westphalia is, with France, an antiquated fable.
The rights and liberties she was bound to maintain are now a system of
wrong and tyranny which she is bound to destroy. Her good and ill
dispositions are shown by the same means. _To communicate peaceably_ the
rights of men is the true mode of her showing her _friendship_; to force
sovereigns to _submit_ to those rights is her mode of _hostility_. So
that, either as friend or foe, her whole scheme has been, and is, to
throw the Empire into confusion; and those statesmen who follow the old
routine of politics may see in this general confusion, and in the danger
of the _lesser_ princes, an occasion, as protectors or enemies, of
connecting their territories to one or the other of the _two great_
German powers. They do not take into consideration that the means which
they encourage, as leading to the event they desire, will with certainty
not only ravage and destroy the Empire, but, if they should for a moment
seem to aggrandize the two great houses, will also establish principles
and confirm tempers amongst the people which will preclude the two
sovereigns from the possibility of holding what they acquire, or even
the dominions which they have inherited. It is on the side of the
Ecclesiastical Electorates that the dikes raised to support the German
liberty first will give way.

[Sidenote: Geneva.]

[Sidenote: Savoy.]

The French have begun their general operations by seizing upon those
territories of the Pope the situation of which was the most inviting to
the enterprise. Their method of doing it was by exciting sedition and
spreading massacre and desolation through these unfortunate places, and
then, under an idea of kindness and protection, bringing forward an
antiquated title of the crown of France, and annexing Avignon and the
two cities of the Comtat, with their territory, to the French republic.
They have made an attempt on Geneva, in which they very narrowly failed
of success. It is known that they hold out from time to time the idea of
uniting all the other provinces of which Gaul was anciently composed,
including Savoy on the other side, and on this side bounding themselves
by the Rhine.

[Sidenote: Switzerland.]

[Sidenote: Old French maxims the security of its independence.]

As to Switzerland, it is a country whose long union, rather than its
possible division, is the matter of wonder. Here I know they entertain
very sanguine hopes. The aggregation to France of the democratic Swiss
republics appears to them to be a work half done by their very form; and
it might seem to them rather an increase of importance to these little
commonwealths than a derogation from their independency or a change in
the manner of their government. Upon any quarrel amongst the Cantons,
nothing is more likely than such an event. As to the aristocratic
republics, the general clamor and hatred which the French excite against
the very name, (and with more facility and success than against
monarchs,) and the utter impossibility of their government making any
sort of resistance against an insurrection, where they have no troops,
and the people are all armed and trained, render their hopes in that
quarter far indeed from unfounded. It is certain that the republic of
Bern thinks itself obliged to a vigilance next to hostile, and to
imprison or expel all the French whom it finds in its territories. But,
indeed, those aristocracies, which comprehend whatever is considerable,
wealthy, and valuable in Switzerland, do now so wholly depend upon
opinion, and the humor of their multitude, that the lightest puff of
wind is sufficient to blow them down. If France, under its ancient
regimen, and upon the ancient principles of policy, was the support of
the Germanic Constitution, it was much more so of that of Switzerland,
which almost from the very origin of that confederacy rested upon the
closeness of its connection with France, on which the Swiss Cantons
wholly reposed themselves for the preservation of the parts of their
body in their respective rights and permanent forms, as well as for the
maintenance of all in their general independency.

Switzerland and Germany are the first objects of the new French
politicians. When I contemplate what they have done at home, which is,
in effect, little less than an amazing conquest, wrought by a change of
opinion, in a great part (to be sure far from altogether) very sudden, I
cannot help letting my thoughts run along with their designs, and,
without attending to geographical order, to consider the other states of
Europe, so far as they may be any way affected by this astonishing
Revolution. If early steps are not taken in some way or other to prevent
the spreading of this influence, I scarcely think any of them perfectly
secure.

[Sidenote: Italy.]

[Sidenote: Lombardy.]

Italy is divided, as Germany and Switzerland are, into many smaller
states, and with some considerable diversity as to forms of government;
but as these divisions and varieties in Italy are not so considerable,
so neither do I think the danger altogether so imminent there as in
Germany and Switzerland. Savoy I know that the French consider as in a
very hopeful way, and I believe not at all without reason. They view it
as an old member of the kingdom of France, which may be easily reunited
in the manner and on the principles of the reunion of Avignon. This
country communicates with Piedmont; and as the king of Sardinia's
dominions were long the key of Italy, and as such long regarded by
France, whilst France acted on her old maxims, and with views on
Italy,--so, in this new French empire of sedition, if once she gets that
key into her hands, she can easily lay open the barrier which hinders
the entrance of her present politics into that inviting region. Milan, I
am sure, nourishes great disquiets; and if Milan should stir, no part of
Lombardy is secure to the present possessors,--whether the Venetian or
the Austrian. Genoa is closely connected with France.

[Sidenote: Bourbon princes in Italy.]

The first prince of the House of Bourbon has been obliged to give
himself up entirely to the new system, and to pretend even to propagate
it with all zeal: at least, that club of intriguers who assemble at the
Feuillants, and whose cabinet meets at Madame de Staël's, and makes and
directs all the ministers, is the real executive government of France.
The Emperor is perfectly in concert, and they will not long suffer any
prince of the House of Bourbon to keep by force the French emissaries
out of their dominions; nor whilst France has a commerce with them,
especially through Marseilles, (the hottest focus of sedition in
France,) will it be long possible to prevent the intercourse or the
effects.

Naples has an old, inveterate disposition to republicanism, and (however
for some time past quiet) is as liable to explosion as its own Vesuvius.
Sicily, I think, has these dispositions in full as strong a degree. In
neither of these countries exists anything which very well deserves the
name of government or exact police.

[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical State.]

In the States of the Church, notwithstanding their strictness in
banishing the French out of that country, there are not wanting the
seeds of a revolution. The spirit of nepotism prevails there nearly as
strong as ever. Every Pope of course is to give origin or restoration to
a great family by the means of large donations. The foreign revenues
have long been gradually on the decline, and seem now in a manner dried
up. To supply this defect, the resource of vexatious and impolitic
jobbing at home, if anything, is rather increased than lessened. Various
well-intended, but ill-understood practices, some of them existing, in
their spirit at least, from the time of the old Roman Empire, still
prevail; and that government is as blindly attached to old abusive
customs as others are wildly disposed to all sorts of innovations and
experiments. These abuses were less felt whilst the Pontificate drew
riches from abroad, which in some measure counterbalanced the evils of
their remiss and jobbish government at home. But now it can subsist
only on the resources of domestic management; and abuses in that
management of course will be more intimately and more severely felt.

In the midst of the apparently torpid languor of the Ecclesiastical
State, those who have had opportunity of a near observation have seen a
little rippling in that smooth water, which indicates something alive
under it. There is in the Ecclesiastical State a personage who seems
capable of acting (but with more force and steadiness) the part of the
tribune Rienzi. The people, once inflamed, will not be destitute of a
leader. They have such an one already in the Cardinal or Archbishop
Boncompagni. He is, of all men, if I am not ill-informed, the most
turbulent, seditious, intriguing, bold, and desperate. He is not at all
made for a Roman of the present day. I think he lately held the first
office of their state, that of Great Chamberlain, which is equivalent to
High Treasurer. At present he is out of employment, and in disgrace. If
he should be elected Pope, or even come to have any weight with a new
Pope, he will infallibly conjure up a democratic spirit in that country.
He may, indeed, be able to effect it without these advantages. The nest
interregnum will probably show more of him. There may be others of the
same character, who have not come to my knowledge. This much is
certain,--that the Roman people, if once the blind reverence they bear
to the sanctity of the Pope, which is their only bridle, should relax,
are naturally turbulent, ferocious, and headlong, whilst the police is
defective, and the government feeble and resourceless beyond all
imagination.

[Sidenote: Spain]

As to Spain, it is a nerveless country. It does not possess the use, it
only suffers the abuse, of a nobility. For some time, and even before
the settlement of the Bourbon dynasty, that body has been systematically
lowered, and rendered incapable by exclusion, and for incapacity
excluded from affairs. In this circle the body is in a manner
annihilated; and so little means have they of any weighty exertion
either to control or to support the crown, that, if they at all
interfere, it is only by abetting desperate and mobbish insurrections,
like that at Madrid, which drove Squillace from his place. Florida
Blanca is a creature of office, and has little connection and no
sympathy with that body.

As to the clergy, they are the only thing in Spain that looks like an
independent order; and they are kept in some respect by the Inquisition,
the sole, but unhappy resource of public tranquillity and order now
remaining in Spain. As in Venice, it is become mostly an engine of
state,--which, indeed, to a degree, it has always been in Spain. It wars
no longer with Jews and heretics: it has no such war to carry on. Its
great object is, to keep atheistic and republican doctrines from making
their way in that kingdom. No French book upon any subject can enter
there which does not contain such matter. In Spain, the clergy are of
moment from their influence, but at the same time with the envy and
jealousy that attend great riches and power. Though the crown has by
management with the Pope got a very great share of the ecclesiastical
revenues into its own hands, much still remains to them. There will
always be about that court those who look out to a farther division of
the Church property as a resource, and to be obtained by shorter
methods than those of negotiations with the clergy and their chief. But
at present I think it likely that they will stop, lest the business
should be taken out of their hands,--and lest that body, in which
remains the only life that exists in Spain, and is not a fever, may with
their property lose all the influence necessary to preserve the
monarchy, or, being poor and desperate, may employ whatever influence
remains to them as active agents in its destruction.

[Sidenote: Castile different from Catalonia and Aragon.]

The Castilians have still remaining a good deal of their old character,
their _gravedad, lealtad_, and _el temor de Dios_; but that character
neither is, nor ever was, exactly true, except of the Castilians only.
The several kingdoms which compose Spain have, perhaps, some features
which run through the whole; but they are in many particulars as
different as nations who go by different names: the Catalans, for
instance, and the Aragonians too, in a great measure, have the spirit of
the Miquelets, and much more of republicanism than of an attachment to
royalty. They are more in the way of trade and intercourse with France,
and, upon the least internal movement, will disclose and probably let
loose a spirit that may throw the whole Spanish monarchy into
convulsions.

It is a melancholy reflection, that the spirit of melioration which has
been going on in that part of Europe, more or less, during this century,
and the various schemes very lately on foot for further advancement, are
all put a stop to at once. Reformation certainly is nearly connected
with innovation; and where that latter comes in for too large a share,
those who undertake to improve their country may risk their own safety.
In times where the correction, which includes the confession, of an
abuse, is turned to criminate the authority which has long suffered it,
rather than to honor those who would amend it, (which is the spirit of
this malignant French distemper,) every step out of the common course
becomes critical, and renders it a task full of peril for princes of
moderate talents to engage in great undertakings. At present the only
safety of Spain is the old national hatred to the French. How far that
can be depended upon, if any great ferments should be excited, it is
impossible to say.

As to Portugal, she is out of the high-road of these politics. I shall,
therefore, not divert my thoughts that way, but return again to the
North of Europe, which at present seems the part most interested, and
there it appears to me that the French speculation on the Northern
countries may be valued in the following or some such manner.

[Sidenote: Denmark.]

[Sidenote: Sweden.]

Denmark and Norway do not appear to furnish any of the materials of a
democratic revolution, or the dispositions to it. Denmark can only be
_consequentially_ affected by anything done in Prance; but of Sweden I
think quite otherwise. The present power in Sweden is too new a system,
and too green and too sore from its late Revolution, to be considered as
perfectly assured. The king, by his astonishing activity, his boldness,
his decision, his ready versatility, and by rousing and employing the
old military spirit of Sweden, keeps up the top with continual agitation
and lashing. The moment it ceases to spin, the royalty is a dead bit of
box. Whenever Sweden is quiet externally for some time, there is great
danger that all the republican elements she contains will be animated
by the new French spirit, and of this I believe the king is very
sensible.

[Sidenote: Russia.]

The Russian government is of all others the most liable to be subverted
by military seditions, by court conspiracies, and sometimes by headlong
rebellions of the people, such as the turbinating movement of Pugatchef.
It is not quite so probable that in any of these changes the spirit of
system may mingle, in the manner it has done in France. The Muscovites
are no great speculators; but I should not much rely on their
uninquisitive disposition, if any of their ordinary motives to sedition
should arise. The little catechism of the Rights of Men is soon learned;
and the inferences are in the passions.

[Sidenote: Poland.]

[Sidenote: Saxony.]

Poland, from one cause or other, is always unquiet. The new Constitution
only serves to supply that restless people with new means, at least new
modes, of cherishing their turbulent disposition. The bottom of the
character is the same. It is a great question, whether the joining that
crown with the Electorate of Saxony will contribute most to strengthen
the royal authority of Poland or to shake the ducal in Saxony. The
Elector is a Catholic; the people of Saxony are, six sevenths at the
very least, Protestants. He _must_ continue a Catholic, according to the
Polish law, if he accepts that crown. The pride of the Saxons, formerly
flattered by having a crown in the house of their prince, though an
honor which cost them dear,--the German probity, fidelity, and
loyalty,--the weight of the Constitution of the Empire under the Treaty
of Westphalia,--the good temper and good-nature of the princes of the
House of Saxony, had formerly removed from the people all apprehension
with regard to their religion, and kept them perfectly quiet, obedient,
and even affectionate. The Seven Years' War made some change in the
minds of the Saxons. They did not, I believe, regret the loss of what
might be considered almost as the succession to the crown of Poland, the
possession of which, by annexing them to a foreign interest, had often
obliged them to act an arduous part, towards the support of which that
foreign interest afforded no proportionable strength. In this very
delicate situation of their political interests, the speculations of the
French and German _Economists_, and the cabals, and the secret, as well
as public doctrines of the _Illuminatenorden_, and _Freemasons_, have
made a considerable progress in that country; and a turbulent spirit,
under color of religion, but in reality arising from the French rights
of man, has already shown itself, and is ready on every occasion to
blaze out.

The present Elector is a prince of a safe and quiet temper, of great
prudence and goodness. He knows, that, in the actual state of things,
not the power and respect belonging to sovereigns, but their very
existence, depends on a reasonable frugality. It is very certain that
not one sovereign in Europe can either promise for the continuance of
his authority in a state of indigence and insolvency, or dares to
venture on a new imposition to relieve himself. Without abandoning
wholly the ancient magnificence of his court, the Elector has conducted
his affairs with infinitely more economy than any of his predecessors,
so as to restore his finances beyond what was thought possible from the
state in which the Seven Years' War had left Saxony. Saxony, during the
whole of that dreadful period, having been in the hands of an
exasperated enemy, rigorous by resentment, by nature, and by necessity,
was obliged to bear in a manner the whole burden of the war; in the
intervals when their allies prevailed, the inhabitants of that country
were not better treated.

The moderation and prudence of the present Elector, in my opinion,
rather, perhaps, respites the troubles than secures the peace of the
Electorate. The offer of the succession to the crown of Poland is truly
critical, whether he accepts or whether he declines it. If the States
will consent to his acceptance, it will add to the difficulties, already
great, of his situation between the king of Prussia and the
Emperor.--But these thoughts lead me too far, when I mean to speak only
of the interior condition of these princes. It has always, however, some
necessary connection with their foreign politics.

[Sidenote: Holland.]

With regard to Holland, and the ruling party there, I do not think it at
all tainted, or likely to be so, except by fear,--or that it is likely
to be misled, unless indirectly and circuitously. But the predominant
party in Holland is not Holland. The suppressed faction, though
suppressed, exists. Under the ashes, the embers of the late commotions
are still warm. The anti-Orange party has from the day of its origin
been French, though alienated in some degree for some time, through the
pride and folly of Louis the Fourteenth. It will ever hanker after a
French connection; and now that the internal government in France has
been assimilated in so considerable a degree to that which the
immoderate republicans began so very lately to introduce into Holland,
their connection, as still more natural, will be more desired. I do not
well understand the present exterior politics of the Stadtholder, nor
the treaty into which the newspapers say he has entered for the States
with the Emperor. But the Emperor's own politics with regard to the
Netherlands seem to me to be exactly calculated to answer the purpose of
the French Revolutionists. He endeavors to crush the aristocratic party,
and to nourish one in avowed connection with the most furious
democratists in France.

These Provinces in which the French game is so well played they consider
as part of the old French Empire: certainly they were amongst the oldest
parts of it. These they think very well situated, as their party is well
disposed to a reunion. As to the greater nations, they do not aim at
making a direct conquest of them, but, by disturbing them through a
propagation of their principles, they hope to weaken, as they will
weaken them, and to keep them in perpetual alarm and agitation, and thus
render all their efforts against them utterly impracticable, whilst they
extend the dominion of their sovereign anarchy on all sides.

[Sidenote: England.]

As to England, there may be some apprehension from vicinity, from
constant communication, and from the very name of liberty, which, as it
ought to be very dear to us, in its worst abuses carries something
seductive. It is the abuse of the first and best of the objects which we
cherish. I know that many, who sufficiently dislike the system of
France, have yet no apprehensions of its prevalence here. I say nothing
to the ground of this security in the attachment of the people to their
Constitution, and their satisfaction in the discreet portion of liberty
which it measures out to them. Upon this I have said all I have to say,
in the Appeal I have published. That security is something, and not
inconsiderable; but if a storm arises, I should not much rely upon it.

[Sidenote: Objection to the stability of the French system.]

There are other views of things which may be used to give us a perfect
(though in my opinion a delusive) assurance of our own security. The
first of these is from the weakness and rickety nature of the new system
in the place of its first formation. It is thought that the monster of a
commonwealth cannot possibly live,--that at any rate the ill contrivance
of their fabric will make it fall in pieces of itself,--that the
Assembly must be bankrupt,--and that this bankruptcy will totally
destroy that system from the contagion of which apprehensions are
entertained.

For my part I have long thought that one great cause of the stability of
this wretched scheme of things in France was an opinion that it could
not stand, and therefore that all external measures to destroy it were
wholly useless.

[Sidenote: Bankruptcy.]

As to the bankruptcy, that event has happened long ago, as much as it is
ever likely to happen. As soon as a nation compels a creditor to take
paper currency in discharge of his debt, there is a bankruptcy. The
compulsory paper has in some degree answered,--not because there was a
surplus from Church lands, but because faith has not been kept with the
clergy. As to the holders of the old funds, to them the payments will be
dilatory, but they will be made; and whatever may be the discount on
paper, whilst paper is taken, paper will be issued.

[Sidenote: Resources.]

As to the rest, they have shot out three branches of revenue to supply
all those which they have destroyed: that is, _the Universal Register of
all Transactions_, the heavy and universal _Stamp Duty_, and the new
_Territorial Impost_, levied chiefly on the reduced estates of the
gentlemen. These branches of the revenue, especially as they take
assignats in payment, answer their purpose in a considerable degree, and
keep up the credit of their paper: for, as they receive it in their
treasury, it is in reality funded upon all their taxes and future
resources of all kinds, as well as upon the Church estates. As this
paper is become in a manner the only visible maintenance of the whole
people, the dread of a bankruptcy is more apparently connected with the
delay of a counter-revolution than with the duration of this republic;
because the interest of the new republic manifestly leans upon it, and,
in my opinion, the counter-revolution cannot exist along with it. The
above three projects ruined some ministers under the old government,
merely for having conceived them. They are the salvation of the present
rulers.

As the Assembly has laid a most unsparing and cruel hand on all men who
have lived by the bounty, the justice, or the abuses of the old
government, they have lessened many expenses. The royal establishment,
though excessively and ridiculously great for _their_ scheme of things,
is reduced at least one half; the estates of the king's brothers, which
under the ancient government had been in truth royal revenues, go to the
general stock of the confiscation; and as to the crown lands, though
under the monarchy they never yielded two hundred and fifty thousand a
year, by many they are thought at least worth three times as much.

As to the ecclesiastical charge, whether as a compensation for losses,
or a provision for religion, of which they made at first a great parade,
and entered into a solemn engagement in favor of it, it was estimated at
a much larger sum than they could expect from the Church property,
movable or immovable: they are completely bankrupt as to that article.
It is just what they wish; and it is not productive of any serious
inconvenience. The non-payment produces discontent and occasional
sedition; but is only by fits and spasms, and amongst the country
people, who are of no consequence. These seditions furnish new pretexts
for non-payment to the Church establishment, and help the Assembly
wholly to get rid of the clergy, and indeed of any form of religion,
which is not only their real, but avowed object.

[Sidenote: Want of money how supplied.]

They are embarrassed, indeed, in the highest degree, but not wholly
resourceless. They are without the species of money. Circulation of
money is a great convenience, but a substitute for it may be found.
Whilst the great objects of production and consumption, corn, cattle,
wine, and the like, exist in a country, the means of giving them
circulation, with more or less convenience, cannot be _wholly_ wanting.
The great confiscation of the Church and of the crown lands, and of the
appanages of the princes, for the purchase of all which their paper is
always received at par, gives means of continually destroying and
continually creating; and this perpetual destruction and renovation
feeds the speculative market, and prevents, and will prevent, till that
fund of confiscation begins to fail, a _total_ depreciation.

[Sidenote: Moneyed interest not necessary to them.]

But all consideration of public credit in France is of little avail at
present. The action, indeed, of the moneyed interest was of absolute
necessity at the beginning of this Revolution; but the French republic
can stand without any assistance from that description of men, which, as
things are now circumstanced, rather stands in need of assistance itself
from the power which alone substantially exists in France: I mean the
several districts and municipal republics, and the several clubs which
direct all their affairs and appoint all their magistrates. This is the
power now paramount to everything, even to the Assembly itself called
National and that to which tribunals, priesthood, laws, finances, and
both descriptions of military power are wholly subservient, so far as
the military power of either description yields obedience to any name of
authority.

The world of contingency and political combination is much larger than
we are apt to imagine. We never can say what may or may not happen,
without a view to all the actual circumstances. Experience, upon other
data than those, is of all things the most delusive. Prudence in new
cases can do nothing on grounds of retrospect. A constant vigilance and
attention to the train of things as they successively emerge, and to act
on what they direct, are the only sure courses. The physician that let
blood, and by blood-letting cured one kind of plague, in the next added
to its ravages. That power goes with property is not universally true,
and the idea that the operation of it is certain and invariable may
mislead us very fatally.

[Sidenote: Power separated from property.]

Whoever will take an accurate view of the state of those republics, and
of the composition of the present Assembly deputed by them, (in which
Assembly there are not quite fifty persons possessed of an income
amounting to 100_l._ sterling yearly,) must discern clearly, _that the
political and civil power of France is wholly separated from its
property of every description_, and of course that neither the landed
nor the moneyed interest possesses the smallest weight or consideration
in the direction of any public concern. The whole kingdom is directed by
_the refuse of its chicane_, with the aid of the bustling, presumptuous
young clerks of counting-houses and shops, and some intermixture of
young gentlemen of the same character in the several towns. The rich
peasants are bribed with Church lands; and the poorer of that
description are, and can be, counted for nothing. They may rise in
ferocious, ill-directed tumults,--but they can only disgrace themselves
and signalize the triumph of their adversaries.

[Sidenote: Effects of the rota.]

The _truly_ active citizens, that is, the above descriptions, are all
concerned in intrigue respecting the various objects in their local or
their general government. The rota, which the French have established
for their National Assembly, holds out the highest objects of ambition
to such vast multitudes as in an unexampled measure to widen the bottom
of a new species of interest merely political, and wholly unconnected
with birth or property. This scheme of a rota, though it enfeebles the
state, considered as one solid body, and indeed wholly disables it from
acting as such, gives a great, an equal, and a diffusive strength to the
democratic scheme. Seven hundred and fifty people, every two years
raised to the supreme power, has already produced at least fifteen
hundred bold, acting politicians: a great number for even so great a
country as France. These men never will quietly settle in ordinary
occupations, nor submit to any scheme which must reduce them to an
entirely private condition, or to the exercise of a steady, peaceful,
but obscure and unimportant industry. Whilst they sit in the Assembly,
they are denied offices of trust and profit,--but their short duration
makes this no restraint: during their probation and apprenticeship they
are all salaried with an income to the greatest part of them immense;
and after they have passed the novitiate, those who take any sort of
lead are placed in very lucrative offices, according to their influence
and credit, or appoint those who divide their profits with them.

This supply of recruits to the corps of the highest civil ambition goes
on with a regular progression. In very few years it must amount to many
thousands. These, however, will be as nothing in comparison to the
multitude of municipal officers, and officers of district and
department, of all sorts, who have tasted of power and profit, and who
hunger for the periodical return of the meal. To these needy agitators,
the glory of the state, the general wealth and prosperity of the nation,
and the rise or fall of public credit are as dreams; nor have arguments
deduced from these topics any sort of weight with them. The indifference
with which the Assembly regards the state of their colonies, the only
valuable part of the French commerce, is a full proof how little they
are likely to be affected by anything but the selfish game of their own
ambition, now universally diffused.

[Sidenote: Impracticability of resistance.]

It is true, amidst all these turbulent means of security to their
system, very great discontents everywhere prevail. But they only produce
misery to those who nurse them at home, or exile, beggary, and in the
end confiscation, to those who are so impatient as to remove from them.
Each municipal republic has a _Committee_, or something in the nature of
a _Committee of Research_. In these petty republics the tyranny is so
near its object that it becomes instantly acquainted with every act of
every man. It stifles conspiracy in its very first movements. Their
power is absolute and uncontrollable. No stand can be made against it.
These republics are besides so disconnected, that very little
intelligence of what happens in them is to be obtained beyond their own
bounds, except by the means of their clubs, who keep up a constant
correspondence, and who give what color they please to such facts as
they choose to communicate out of the track of their correspondence.
They all have some sort of communication, just as much or as little as
they please, with the centre. By this confinement of all communication
to the ruling faction, any combination, grounded on the abuses and
discontents in one, scarcely can reach the other. There is not one man,
in any one place, to head them. The old government had so much
abstracted the nobility from the cultivation of provincial interest,
that no man in France exists, whose power, credit, or consequence
extends to two districts, or who is capable of uniting them in any
design, even if any man could assemble ten men together without being
sure of a speedy lodging in a prison. One must not judge of the state of
France by what has been observed elsewhere. It does not in the least
resemble any other country. Analogical reasoning from history or from
recent experience in other places is wholly delusive.

In my opinion, there never was seen so strong a government internally as
that of the French municipalities. If ever any rebellion can arise
against the present system, it must begin, where the Revolution which
gave birth to it did, at the capital. Paris is the only place in which
there is the least freedom of intercourse. But even there, so many
servants as any man has, so many spies and irreconcilable domestic
enemies.

[Sidenote: Gentlemen are fugitives.]

But that place being the chief seat of the power and intelligence of the
ruling faction, and the place of occasional resort for their fiercest
spirits, even there a revolution is not likely to have anything to feed
it. The leaders of the aristocratic party have been drawn out of the
kingdom by order of the princes, on the hopes held out by the Emperor
and the king of Prussia at Pilnitz; and as to the democratic factions in
Paris, amongst them there are no leaders possessed of an influence for
any other purpose but that of maintaining the present state of things.
The moment they are seen to warp, they are reduced to nothing. They have
no attached army,--no party that is at all personal.

It is not to be imagined, because a political system is, under certain
aspects, very unwise in its contrivance, and very mischievous in its
effects, that it therefore can have no long duration. Its very defects
may tend to its stability, because they are agreeable to its nature. The
very faults in the Constitution of Poland made it last; the _veto_ which
destroyed all its energy preserved its life. What can be conceived so
monstrous as the republic of Algiers, and that no less strange republic
of the Mamelukes in Egypt? They are of the worst form imaginable, and
exercised in the worst manner, yet they have existed as a nuisance on
the earth for several hundred years.

[Sidenote: Conclusions.]

From all these considerations, and many more that crowd upon me, three
conclusions have long since arisen in my mind.

First, that no counter revolution is to be expected in France from
internal causes solely.

Secondly, that, the longer the present system exists, the greater will
be its strength, the greater its power to destroy discontents at home,
and to resist all foreign attempts in favor of these discontents.

Thirdly, that, as long as it exists in France, it will be the interest
of the managers there, and it is in the very essence of their plan, to
disturb and distract all other governments, and their endless succession
of restless politicians will continually stimulate them to new attempts.

[Sidenote: Proceedings of princes; defensive plans.]

Princes are generally sensible that this is their common cause; and two
of them have made a public declaration of their opinion to this effect.
Against this common danger, some of them, such as the king of Spain, the
king of Sardinia, and the republic of Bern, are very diligent in using
defensive measures.

If they were to guard against an invasion from France, the merits of
this plan of a merely defensive resistance might be supported by
plausible topics; but as the attack does not operate against these
countries externally, but by an internal corruption, (a sort of dry
rot,) they who pursue this merely defensive plan against a danger which
the plan itself supposes to be serious cannot possibly escape it. For
it is in the nature of all defensive measures to be sharp and vigorous
under the impressions of the first alarm, and to relax by degrees, until
at length the danger, by not operating instantly, comes to appear as a
false alarm,--so much so, that the next menacing appearance will look
less formidable, and will be less provided against. But to those who are
on the offensive it is not necessary to be always alert. Possibly it is
more their interest not to be so. For their unforeseen attacks
contribute to their success.

[Sidenote: The French party how composed.]

In the mean time a system of French conspiracy is gaining ground in
every country. This system, happening to be founded on principles the
most delusive indeed, but the most flattering to the natural
propensities of the unthinking multitude, and to the speculations of all
those who think, without thinking very profoundly, must daily extend its
influence. A predominant inclination towards it appears in all those who
have no religion, when otherwise their disposition leads them to be
advocates even for despotism. Hence Hume, though I cannot say that he
does not throw out some expressions of disapprobation on the proceedings
of the levellers in the reign of Richard the Second, yet affirms that
the doctrines of John Ball were "conformable to the ideas of primitive
equality _which are engraven in the hearts of all men_."

Boldness formerly was not the character of atheists as such. They were
even of a character nearly the reverse; they were formerly like the old
Epicureans, rather an unenterprising race. But of late they are grown
active, designing, turbulent, and seditious. They are sworn enemies to
kings, nobility, and priesthood. We have seen all the Academicians at
Paris, with Condorcet, the friend and correspondent of Priestley, at
their head, the most furious of the extravagant republicans.

[Sidenote: Condorcet.]

The late Assembly, after the last captivity of the king, had actually
chosen this Condorcet, by a majority on the ballot, for preceptor to the
Dauphin, who was to be taken out of the hands and direction of his
parents, and to be delivered over to this fanatic atheist and furious
democratic republican. His untractability to these leaders, and his
figure in the club of Jacobins, which at that time they wished to bring
under, alone prevented that part of the arrangement, and others in the
same style, from being carried into execution. Whilst he was candidate
for this office, he produced his title to it by promulgating the
following ideas of the title of his royal pupil to the crown. In a paper
written by him, and published with his name, against the reëstablishment
even of the appearance of monarchy under any qualifications, he says:--

[Sidenote: Doctrine of the French.]

"Jusqu'à ce moment, ils [l'Assemblée Nationale] n'ont rien préjugé
encore. En se réservant de nommer un gouverneur au Dauphin, ils n'ont
pas prononcé _que cet enfant dût régner_, mais seulement qu'il _était
possible_ que la Constitution l'y destinât; ils ont voulu que
l'éducation effaçât tout ce que _les prestiges du trône_ ont pu lui
inspirer de préjugés sur les droits prétendus de sa naissance; qu'elle
lui fît connaître de bonne heure et _l'égalité naturelle des hommes et
la souveraineté du peuple_; qu'elle lui apprît à ne pas oublier que
c'est _du peuple_ qu'il tiendra le titre de Roi, et que _le peuple n'a
pas même le droit de renoncer à celui de l'en dépouiller_.

"Ils ont voulu que cette éducation le rendît également digne, par ses
lumières et ses vertus, de recevoir _avec résignation_ le fardeau
dangereux d'une couronne, ou de la _déposer avec joie_ entre les mains
de ses frères; qu'il sentît que le devoir et la gloire du roi d'un
peuple libre sont de hâter le moment de n'être plus qu'un citoyen
ordinaire.

"Ils ont voulu que _l'inutilité d'un roi_, la nécessité de chercher les
moyens de remplacer _un pouvoir fondé sur des illusions_, fût une des
premières vérités offertes à sa raison; _l'obligation d'y concourir
lui-même, un des premiers devoirs de sa morale; et le désir de n'être
plus affranchi du joug de la loi par une injurieuse inviolabilité, le
premier sentiment de son coeur_. Ils n'ignorent pas que dans ce moment
il s'agit bien moins de former un roi que de lui apprendre _à savoir à
vouloir ne plus l'être_."[32]

Such are the sentiments of the man who has occasionally filled the chair
of the National Assembly, who is their perpetual secretary, their only
standing officer, and the most important by far. He leads them to peace
or war. He is the great theme of the republican faction in England.
These ideas of M. Condorcet are the principles of those to whom kings
are to intrust their successors and the interests of their succession.
This man would be ready to plunge the poniard in the heart of his pupil,
or to whet the axe for his neck. Of all men, the most dangerous is a
warm, hot-headed, zealous atheist. This sort of man aims at dominion,
and his means are the words he always has in his mouth,--"_L'égalité
naturelle des hommes, et la souveraineté du peuple_."

All former attempts, grounded on these rights of men, had proved
unfortunate. The success of this last makes a mighty difference in the
effect of the doctrine. Here is a principle of a nature to the multitude
the most seductive, always existing before their eyes _as a thing
feasible in practice_. After so many failures, such an enterprise,
previous to the French experiment, carried ruin to the contrivers, on
the face of it; and if any enthusiast was so wild as to wish to engage
in a scheme of that nature, it was not easy for him to find followers:
now there is a party almost in all countries, ready-made, animated with
success, with a sure ally in the very centre of Europe. There is no
cabal so obscure in any place, that they do not protect, cherish,
foster, and endeavor to raise it into importance at home and abroad.
From the lowest, this intrigue will creep up to the highest. Ambition,
as well as enthusiasm, may find its account in the party and in the
principle.

[Sidenote: Character of ministers.]

The ministers of other kings, like those of the king of France, (not one
of whom was perfectly free from this guilt, and some of whom were very
deep in it,) may themselves be the persons to foment such a disposition
and such a faction. Hertzberg, the king of Prussia's late minister, is
so much of what is called a philosopher, that he was of a faction with
that sort of politicians in everything, and in every place. Even when he
defends himself from the imputation of giving extravagantly into these
principles, he still considers the Revolution of France as a great
public good, by giving credit to their fraudulent declaration of their
universal benevolence and love of peace. Nor are his Prussian Majesty's
present ministers at all disinclined to the same system. Their
ostentatious preamble to certain late edicts demonstrates (if their
actions had not been sufficiently explanatory of their cast of mind)
that they are deeply infected with the same distemper of dangerous,
because plausible, though trivial and shallow, speculation.

Ministers, turning their backs on the reputation which properly belongs
to them, aspire at the glory of being speculative writers. The duties of
these two situations are in general directly opposite to each other.
Speculators ought to be neutral. A minister cannot be so. He is to
support the interest of the public as connected with that of his master.
He is his master's trustee, advocate, attorney, and steward,--and he is
not to indulge in any speculation which contradicts that character, or
even detracts from its efficacy. Necker had an extreme thirst for this
sort of glory; so had others; and this pursuit of a misplaced and
misunderstood reputation was one of the causes of the ruin of these
ministers, and of their unhappy, master. The Prussian ministers in
foreign courts have (at least not long since) talked the most democratic
language with regard to Prance, and in the most unmanaged terms.

[Sidenote: Corps diplomatique.]

The whole _corps diplomatique_, with very few exceptions, leans that
way. What cause produces in them a turn of mind which at first one would
think unnatural to their situation it is not impossible to explain. The
discussion would, however, be somewhat long and somewhat invidious. The
fact itself is indisputable, however they may disguise it to their
several courts. This disposition is gone to so very great a length in
that corps, in itself so important, and so important as _furnishing_ the
intelligence which sways all cabinets, that, if princes and states do
not very speedily attend with a vigorous control to that source of
direction and information, very serious evils are likely to befall them.

[Sidenote: Sovereigns--their dispositions.]

But, indeed, kings are to guard against the same sort of dispositions in
themselves. They are very easily alienated from all the higher orders of
their subjects, whether civil or military, laic or ecclesiastical. It is
with persons of condition that sovereigns chiefly come into contact. It
is from them that they generally experience opposition to their will. It
is with _their_ pride and impracticability that princes are most hurt.
It is with _their_ servility and baseness that they are most commonly
disgusted. It is from their humors and cabals that they find their
affairs most frequently troubled and distracted. But of the common
people, in pure monarchical governments, kings know little or nothing;
and therefore being unacquainted with their faults, (which are as many
as those of the great, and much more decisive in their effects, when
accompanied with power,) kings generally regard them with tenderness and
favor, and turn their eyes towards that description of their subjects,
particularly when hurt by opposition from the higher orders. It was thus
that the king of France (a perpetual example to all sovereigns) was
ruined. I have it from very sure information, (and it was, indeed,
obvious enough, from the measures which were taken previous to the
assembly of the States and afterwards,) that the king's counsellors had
filled him with a strong dislike to his nobility, his clergy, and the
corps of his magistracy. They represented to him, that he had tried them
all severally, in several ways, and found them all untractable: that he
had twice called an assembly (the Notables) composed of the first men of
the clergy, the nobility, and the magistrates; that he had himself named
every one member in those assemblies, and that, though so picked out, he
had not, in this their collective state, found them more disposed to a
compliance with his will than they had been separately; that there
remained for him, with the least prospect of advantage to his authority
in the States-General, which were to be composed of the same sorts of
men, but not chosen by him, only the _Tiers État_: in this alone he
could repose any hope of extricating himself from his difficulties, and
of settling him in a clear and permanent authority. They represented,
(these are the words of one of my informants,) "that the royal
authority, compressed with the weight of these aristocratic bodies, full
of ambition and of faction, when once unloaded, would rise of itself,
and occupy its natural place without disturbance or control"; that the
common people would protect, cherish, and support, instead of crushing
it. "The people" (it was said) "could entertain no objects of ambition";
they were out of the road of intrigue and cabal, and could possibly have
no other view than the support of the mild and parental authority by
which they were invested, for the first time collectively, with real
importance in the state, and protected in their peaceable and useful
employments.

[Sidenote: King of France.]

This unfortunate king (not without a large share of blame to himself)
was deluded to his ruin by a desire to humble and reduce his nobility,
clergy, and big corporate magistracy: not that I suppose he meant wholly
to eradicate these bodies, in the manner since effected by the
democratic power; I rather believe that even Necker's designs did not go
to that extent. With his own hand, however, Louis the Sixteenth pulled
down the pillars which upheld his throne; and this he did, because he
could not bear the inconveniences which are attached to everything
human,--because he found himself cooped up, and in durance, by those
limits which Nature prescribes to desire and imagination, and was taught
to consider as low and degrading that mutual dependence which Providence
has ordained that all men should have on one another. He is not at this
minute, perhaps, cured of the dread of the power and credit like to be
acquired by those who would save and rescue him. He leaves those who
suffer in his cause to their fate,--and hopes, by various mean, delusive
intrigues, in which I am afraid he is encouraged from abroad, to regain,
among traitors and regicides, the power he has joined to take from his
own family, whom he quietly sees proscribed before his eyes, and called
to answer to the lowest of his rebels, as the vilest of all criminals.

[Sidenote: Emperor.]

It is to be hoped that the Emperor may be taught better things by this
fatal example. But it is sure that he has advisers who endeavor to fill
him with the ideas which have brought his brother-in-law to his present
situation. Joseph the Second was far gone in this philosophy, and some,
if not most, who serve the Emperor, would kindly initiate him into all
the mysteries of this freemasonry. They would persuade him to look on
the National Assembly, not with the hatred of an enemy, but the jealousy
of a rival. They would make him desirous of doing, in his own dominions,
by a royal despotism, what has been done in France by a democratic.
Rather than abandon such enterprises, they would persuade him to a
strange alliance between those extremes. Their grand object being now,
as in his brother's time, at any rate to destroy the higher orders, they
think he cannot compass this end, as certainly he cannot, without
elevating the lower. By depressing the one and by raising the other they
hope in the first place to increase his treasures and his army; and with
these common instruments of royal power they flatter him that the
democracy, which they help in his name to create, will give him but
little trouble. In defiance of the freshest experience, which might show
him that old impossibilities are become modern probabilities, and that
the extent to which evil principles may go, when left to their own
operation, is beyond the power of calculation, they will endeavor to
persuade him that such a democracy is a thing which cannot subsist by
itself; that in whose ever hands the military command is placed, he must
be, in the necessary course of affairs, sooner or later the master; and
that, being the master of various unconnected countries, he may keep
them all in order by employing a military force which to each of them is
foreign. This maxim, too, however formerly plausible, will not now hold
water. This scheme is full of intricacy, and may cause him everywhere to
lose the hearts of his people. These counsellors forget that a corrupted
army was the very cause of the ruin of his brother-in-law, and that he
is himself far from secure from a similar corruption.

[Sidenote: Brabant.]

Instead of reconciling himself heartily and _bonâ fide_, according to
the most obvious rules of policy, to the States of Brabant, _as they are
constituted_, and who in _the present state of things_ stand on the same
foundation with the monarchy itself, and who might have been gained with
the greatest facility, they have advised him to the most unkingly
proceeding which, either in a good or in a bad light, has ever been
attempted. Under a pretext taken from the spirit of the lowest chicane,
they have counselled him wholly to break the public faith, to annul the
amnesty, as well as the other conditions through which he obtained an
entrance into the Provinces of the Netherlands under the guaranty of
Great Britain and Prussia. He is made to declare his adherence to the
indemnity in a criminal sense, but he is to keep alive in his own name,
and to encourage in others, a _civil_ process in the nature of an
action of damages for what has been suffered during the troubles.
Whilst he keeps up this hopeful lawsuit in view of the damages he may
recover against individuals, he loses the hearts of a whole people, and
the vast subsidies which his ancestors had been used to receive from
them.

[Sidenote: Emperor's conduct with regard to France.]

This design once admitted unriddles the mystery of the whole conduct of
the Emperor's ministers with regard to France. As soon as they saw the
life of the king and queen of France no longer, as they thought, in
danger, they entirely changed their plan with regard to the French
nation. I believe that the chiefs of the Revolution (those who led the
constituting Assembly) have contrived, as far as they can do it, to give
the Emperor satisfaction on this head. He keeps a continual tone and
posture of menace to secure this his only point. But it must be
observed, that he all along grounds his departure from the engagement at
Pilnitz to the princes on the will and actions of _the king_ and the
majority of the people, without any regard to the natural and
constitutional orders of the state, or to the opinions of the whole
House of Bourbon. Though it is manifestly under the constraint of
imprisonment and the fear of death that this unhappy man has been guilty
of all those humilities which have astonished mankind, the advisers of
the Emperor will consider nothing but the _physical_ person of Louis,
which, even in his present degraded and infamous state, they regard as
of sufficient authority to give a complete sanction to the persecution
and utter ruin of all his family, and of every person who has shown any
degree of attachment or fidelity to him or to his cause, as well as
competent to destroy the whole ancient constitution and frame of the
French monarchy.

The present policy, therefore, of the Austrian politicians is, to
recover despotism through democracy,--or, at least, at any expense,
everywhere to ruin the description of men who are everywhere the objects
of their settled and systematic aversion, but more especially in the
Netherlands. Compare this with the Emperor's refusing at first all
intercourse with the present powers in France, with his endeavoring to
excite all Europe against them, and then, his not only withdrawing all
assistance and all countenance from the fugitives who had been drawn by
his declarations from their houses, situations, and military
commissions, many even from the means of their very existence, but
treating them with every species of insult and outrage.

Combining this unexampled conduct in the Emperor's advisers with the
timidity (operating as perfidy) of the king of France, a fatal example
is held out to all subjects, tending to show what little support, or
even countenance, they are to expect from those for whom their principle
of fidelity may induce them to risk life and fortune. The Emperor's
advisers would not for the world rescind one of the acts of this or of
the late French Assembly; nor do they wish anything better at present
for their master's brother of France than that he should really be, as
he is nominally, at the head of the system of persecution of religion
and good order, and of all descriptions of dignity, natural and
instituted: they only wish all this done with a little more respect to
the king's person, and with more appearance of consideration for his new
subordinate office,--in hopes, that, yielding himself for the present
to the persons who have effected these changes, he may be able to game
for the rest hereafter. On no other principles than these can the
conduct of the court of Vienna be accounted for. The subordinate court
of Brussels talks the language of a club of Feuillants and Jacobins.

[Sidenote: Moderate party.]

In this state of general rottenness among subjects, and of delusion and
false politics in princes, comes a new experiment. The king of France is
in the hands of the chiefs of the regicide faction,--the Barnaves,
Lameths, Fayettes, Périgords, Duports, Robespierres, Camuses, &c., &c.,
&c. They who had imprisoned, suspended, and conditionally deposed him
are his confidential counsellors. The next desperate of the desperate
rebels call themselves the _moderate_ party. They are the chiefs of the
first Assembly, who are confederated to support their power during their
suspension from the present, and to govern the existent body with as
sovereign a sway as they had done the last. They have, for the greater
part, succeeded; and they have many advantages towards procuring their
success in future. Just before the close of their regular power, they
bestowed some appearance of prerogatives on the king, which in their
first plans they had refused to him,--particularly the mischievous, and,
in his situation, dreadful prerogative of a _veto_. This prerogative,
(which they hold as their bit in the mouth of the National Assembly for
the time being,) without the direct assistance of their club, it was
impossible for the king to show even the desire of exerting with the
smallest effect, or even with safety to his person. However, by playing,
through this _veto_, the Assembly against the king, and the king
against the Assembly, they have made themselves masters of both. In this
situation, having destroyed the old government by their sedition, they
would preserve as much of order as is necessary for the support of their
own usurpation.

[Sidenote: French ambassador.]

It is believed that this, by far the worst party of the miscreants of
France, has received direct encouragement from the counsellors who
betray the Emperor. Thus strengthened by the possession of the captive
king, (now captive in his mind as well as in body,) and by a good hope
of the Emperor, they intend to send their ministers to every court in
Europe,--having sent before them such a denunciation of terror and
superiority to every nation without exception as has no example in the
diplomatic world. Hitherto the ministers to foreign courts had been of
the appointment of the sovereign of France _previous to the Revolution_;
and, either from inclination, duty, or decorum, most of them were
contented with a merely passive obedience to the new power. At present,
the king, being entirely in the hands of his jailors, and his mind
broken to his situation, can send none but the enthusiasts of the
system,--men framed by the secret committee of the Feuillants, who meet
in the house of Madame de Staël, M. Necker's daughter. Such is every man
whom they have talked of sending hither. These ministers will be so many
spies and incendiaries, so many active emissaries of democracy. Their
houses will become places of rendezvous here, as everywhere else, and
centres of cabal for whatever is mischievous and malignant in this
country, particularly among those of rank and fashion. As the minister
of the National Assembly will be admitted at this court, at least with
his usual rank, and as entertainments will be naturally given and
received by the king's own ministers, any attempt to discountenance the
resort of other people to that minister would be ineffectual, and indeed
absurd, and full of contradiction. The women who come with these
ambassadors will assist in fomenting factions amongst ours, which cannot
fail of extending the evil. Some of them I hear are already arrived.
There is no doubt they will do as much mischief as they can.

[Sidenote: Connection of clubs.]

Whilst the public ministers are received under the general law of the
communication between nations, the correspondences between the factious
clubs in France and ours will be, as they now are, kept up; but this
pretended embassy will be a closer, more steady, and more effectual link
between the partisans of the new system on both sides of the water. I do
not mean that these Anglo-Gallic clubs in London, Manchester, &c., are
not dangerous in a high degree. The appointment of festive anniversaries
has ever in the sense of mankind been held the best method of keeping
alive the spirit of any institution. We have one settled in London; and
at the last of them, that of the 14th of July, the strong discountenance
of government, the unfavorable time of the year, and the then
uncertainty of the disposition of foreign powers, did not hinder the
meeting of at least nine hundred people, with good coats on their backs,
who could afford to pay half a guinea a head to show their zeal for the
new principles. They were with great difficulty, and all possible
address, hindered from inviting the French ambassador. His real
indisposition, besides the fear of offending any party, sent him out of
town. But when our court shall have recognized a government in France
founded on the principles announced in Montmorin's letter, how can the
French ambassador be frowned upon for an attendance on those meetings
wherein the establishment of the government he represents is celebrated?
An event happened a few days ago, which in many particulars was very
ridiculous; yet, even from the ridicule and absurdity of the
proceedings, it marks the more strongly the spirit of the French
Assembly: I mean the reception they have given to the Frith Street
Alliance. This, though the delirium of a low, drunken alehouse club,
they have publicly announced as a formal alliance with the people of
England, as such ordered it to be presented to their king, and to be
published in every province in France. This leads, more directly and
with much greater force than any proceeding with a regular and rational
appearance, to two very material considerations. First, it shows that
they are of opinion that the current opinions of the English have the
greatest influence on the minds of the people in France, and indeed of
all the people in Europe, since they catch with such astonishing
eagerness at every the most trifling show of such opinions in their
favor. Next, and what appears to me to be full as important, it shows
that they are willing publicly to countenance, and even to adopt, every
factious conspiracy that can be formed in this nation, however low and
base in itself, in order to excite in the most miserable wretches here
an idea of their own sovereign importance, and to encourage them to look
up to France, whenever they may be matured into something of more force,
for assistance in the subversion of their domestic government. This
address of the alehouse club was actually proposed and accepted by the
Assembly as an _alliance_. The procedure was in my opinion a high
misdemeanor in those who acted thus in England, if they were not so very
low and so very base that no acts of theirs can be called high, even as
a description of criminality; and the Assembly, in accepting,
proclaiming, and publishing this forged alliance, has been guilty of a
plain aggression, which would justify our court in demanding a direct
disavowal, if our policy should not lead us to wink at it.

Whilst I look over this paper to have it copied, I see a manifesto of
the Assembly, as a preliminary to a declaration of war against the
German princes on the Rhine. This manifesto contains the whole substance
of the French politics with regard to foreign states. They have ordered
it to be circulated amongst the people in every country of Europe,--even
previously to its acceptance by the king, and his new privy council, the
club of the Feuillants. Therefore, as a summary of their policy avowed
by themselves, let us consider some of the circumstances attending that
piece, as well as the spirit and temper of the piece itself.

[Sidenote: Declaration against the Emperor.]

It was preceded by a speech from Brissot, full of unexampled insolence
towards all the sovereign states of Germany, if not of Europe. The
Assembly, to express their satisfaction in the sentiments which it
contained, ordered it to be printed. This Brissot had been in the lowest
and basest employ under the deposed monarchy,--a sort of thief-taker, or
spy of police,--in which character he acted after the manner of persons
in that description. He had been employed by his master, the
_Lieutenant de Police_, for a considerable time in London, in the same
or some such honorable occupation. The Revolution, which has brought
forward all merit of that kind, raised him, with others of a similar
class and disposition, to fame and eminence. On the Revolution he became
a publisher of an infamous newspaper, which he still continues. He is
charged, and I believe justly, as the first mover of the troubles in
Hispaniola. There is no wickedness, if I am rightly informed, in which
he is not versed, and of which he is not perfectly capable. His quality
of news-writer, now an employment of the first dignity in France, and
his practices and principles, procured his election into the Assembly,
where he is one of the leading members. M. Condorcet produced on the
same day a draught of a declaration to the king, which the Assembly
published before it was presented.

Condorcet (though no marquis, as he styled himself before the
Revolution) is a man of another sort of birth, fashion, and occupation
from Brissot,--but in every principle, and every disposition to the
lowest as well as the highest and most determined villanies, fully his
equal. He seconds Brissot in the Assembly, and is at once his coadjutor
and his rival in a newspaper, which, in his own name, and as successor
to M. Garat, a member also of the Assembly, he has just set up in that
empire of gazettes. Condorcet was chosen to draw the first declaration
presented by the Assembly to the king, as a threat to the Elector of
Treves, and the other princes on the Rhine. In that piece, in which both
Feuillants and Jacobins concurred, they declared publicly, and most
proudly and insolently, the principle on which they mean to proceed in
their future disputes with any of the sovereigns of Europe; for they
say, "that it is not with fire and sword they mean to attack their
territories, but by what will be _more dreadful_ to them, the
introduction of liberty."--I have not the paper by me, to give the exact
words, but I believe they are nearly as I state them.--_Dreadful_,
indeed, will be their hostility, if they should be able to carry it on
according to the example of _their_ modes of introducing liberty. They
have shown a perfect model of their whole design, very complete, though
in little. This gang of murderers and savages have wholly laid waste and
utterly ruined the beautiful and happy country of the Comtat Venaissin
and the city of Avignon. This cruel and treacherous outrage the
sovereigns of Europe, in my opinion, with a great mistake of their honor
and interest, have permitted, even without a remonstrance, to be carried
to the desired point, on the principles on which they are now themselves
threatened in their own states; and this, because, according to the poor
and narrow spirit now in fashion, their brother sovereign, whose
subjects have been thus traitorously and inhumanly treated in violation
of the law of Nature and of nations, has a name somewhat different from
theirs, and, instead of being styled King, or Duke, or Landgrave, is
usually called Pope.

[Sidenote: State of the Empire.]

The Electors of Treves and Mentz were frightened with the menace of a
similar mode of war. The Assembly, however, not thinking that the
Electors of Treves and Mentz had done enough under their first terror,
have again brought forward Condorcet, preceded by Brissot, as I have
just stated. The declaration, which they have ordered now to be
circulated in all countries, is in substance the same as the first, but
still more insolent, because more full of detail. There they have the
impudence to state that they aim at no conquest: insinuating that all
the old, lawful powers of the world had each made a constant, open
profession of a design of subduing his neighbors. They add, that, if
they are provoked, their war will be directed only against those who
assume to be _masters_; but to the _people_ they will bring peace, law,
liberty, &c, &c. There is not the least hint that they consider those
whom they call persons "_assuming to be matters_" to be the lawful
government of their country, or persons to be treated with the least
management or respect. They regard them as usurpers and enslavers of the
people. If I do not mistake, they are described by the name of tyrants
in Condorcet's first draught. I am sure they are so in Brissot's speech,
ordered by the Assembly to be printed at the same time and for the same
purposes. The whole is in the same strain, full of false philosophy and
false rhetoric,--both, however, calculated to captivate and influence
the vulgar mind, and to excite sedition in the countries in which it is
ordered to be circulated. Indeed, it is such, that, if any of the
lawful, acknowledged sovereigns of Europe had publicly ordered such a
manifesto to be circulated in the dominions of another, the ambassador
of that power would instantly be ordered to quit every court without an
audience.

[Sidenote: Effect of fear on the sovereign powers.]

The powers of Europe have a pretext for concealing their fears, by
saying that this language is not used by the king; though they well know
that there is in effect no such person,--that the Assembly is in
reality, and by that king is acknowledged to be, _the master_,--that
what he does is but matter of formality,--and that he can neither cause
nor hinder, accelerate nor retard, any measure whatsoever, nor add to
nor soften the manifesto which the Assembly has directed to be
published, with the declared purpose of exciting mutiny and rebellion in
the several countries governed by these powers. By the generality also
of the menaces contained in this paper, (though infinitely aggravating
the outrage,) they hope to remove from each power separately the idea of
a distinct affront. The persons first pointed at by the menace are
certainly the princes of Germany, who harbor the persecuted House of
Bourbon and the nobility of France; the declaration, however, is
general, and goes to every state with which they may have a cause of
quarrel. But the terror of France has fallen upon all nations. A few
months since all sovereigns seemed disposed to unite against her; at
present they all seem to combine in her favor. At no period has the
power of France ever appeared with so formidable an aspect. In
particular the liberties of the Empire can have nothing more than an
existence the most tottering and precarious, whilst France exists with a
great power of fomenting rebellion, and the greatest in the
weakest,--but with neither power nor disposition to support the smaller
states in their independence against the attempts of the more powerful.

I wind up all in a full conviction within my own breast, and the
substance of which I must repeat over and over again, that the state of
France is the first consideration in the politics of Europe, and of each
state, externally as well as internally considered.

Most of the topics I have used are drawn from fear and apprehension.
Topics derived from fear or addressed to it are, I well know, of
doubtful appearance. To be sure, hope is in general the incitement to
action. Alarm some men,--you do not drive them to provide for their
security; you put them to a stand; you induce them, not to take measures
to prevent the approach of danger, but to remove so unpleasant an idea
from their minds; you persuade them to remain as they are, from a new
fear that their activity may bring on the apprehended mischief before
its time. I confess freely that this evil sometimes happens from an
overdone precaution; but it is when the measures are rash, ill-chosen,
or ill-combined, and the effects rather of blind terror than of
enlightened foresight. But the few to whom I wish to submit my thoughts
are of a character which will enable them to see danger without
astonishment, and to provide against it without perplexity.

To what lengths this method of circulating mutinous manifestoes, and of
keeping emissaries of sedition in every court under the name of
ambassadors, to propagate the same principles and to follow the
practices, will go, and how soon they will operate, it is hard to say;
but go on it will, more or less rapidly, according to events, and to the
humor of the time. The princes menaced with the revolt of their
subjects, at the same time that they have obsequiously obeyed the
sovereign mandate of the new Roman senate, have received with
distinction, in a public character, ambassadors from those who in the
same act had circulated the manifesto of sedition in their dominions.
This was the only thing wanting to the degradation and disgrace of the
Germanic body.

The ambassadors from the rights of man, and their admission into the
diplomatic system, I hold to be a new era in this business. It will be
the most important step yet taken to affect the existence of sovereigns,
and the higher classes of life: I do not mean to exclude its effects
upon all classes; but the first blow is aimed at the more prominent
parts in the ancient order of things.

What is to be done?

It would be presumption in me to do more than to make a case. Many
things occur. But as they, like all political measures, depend on
dispositions, tempers, means, and external circumstances, for all their
effect, not being well assured of these, I do not know how to let loose
any speculations of mine on the subject. The evil is stated, in my
opinion, as it exists. The remedy must be where power, wisdom, and
information, I hope, are more united with good intentions than they can
be with me. I have done with this subject, I believe, forever. It has
given me many anxious moments for the two last years. If a great change
is to be made in human affairs, the minds of men will be fitted to it,
the general opinions and feelings will draw that way. Every fear, every
hope, will forward it; and then they who persist in opposing this mighty
current in human affairs will appear rather to resist the decrees of
Providence itself than the mere designs of men. They will not be
resolute and firm, but perverse and obstinate.

FOOTNOTES:

[30] See Vattel, B. II. c. 4, sect 56, and B. III. c 18, sect. 296.

[31] Originally called the Bengal Club; but since opened to persons from
the other Presidencies, for the purpose of consolidating the whole
Indian interest.

[32] "Until now, they [the National Assembly] have prejudged nothing.
Reserving to themselves a right to appoint a preceptor to the Dauphin,
they did not declare _that this child was to reign_, but only that
_possibly_ the Constitution _might_ destine him to it: they willed,
that, while education should efface from his mind all the prejudices
arising from _the delusions of the throne_ respecting his pretended
birthright, it should also teach him not to forget that it is _from the
people_ he is to receive the title of King, and that _the people do not
even possess the right of giving up their power to take it from him_.

"They willed that this education should render him worthy, by his
knowledge and by his virtues, both to receive _with submission_ the
dangerous burden of a crown, and _to resign it with pleasure_ into the
hands of his brethren; that he should be conscious that the hastening of
that moment when he is to be only a common citizen constitutes the duty
and the glory of a king of a free people.

"They willed that _the uselessness of a king_, the necessity of seeking
means to establish something in lieu of _a power founded on illusions_,
should be one of the first truths offered to his reason; _the obligation
of conforming himself to this, the first of his moral duties; and the
desire of no longer being freed from the yoke of the law by an injurious
inviolability, the first and chief sentiment of his heart_. They are not
ignorant that in the present moment the object is less to form a king
than to teach him _that he should know how to wish no longer to be
such_."




HEADS FOR CONSIDERATION

ON THE

PRESENT STATE OF AFFAIRS.

WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER, 1792.


That France by its mere geographical position, independently of every
other circumstance, must affect every state of Europe: some of them
immediately, all of them through mediums not very remote.

That the standing policy of this kingdom ever has been to watch over the
_external_ proceedings of France, (whatever form the _interior_
government of that kingdom might take,) and to prevent the extension of
its dominion or its ruling influence over other states.

That there is nothing in the present _internal_ state of things in
France which alters the national policy with regard to the exterior
relations of that country.

That there are, on the contrary, many things in the internal
circumstances of France (and perhaps of this country, too) which tend to
fortify the principles of that fundamental policy, and which render the
active assertion of those principles more pressing at this than at any
former time.

That, by a change effected in about three weeks, France has been able to
penetrate into the heart of Germany, to make an absolute conquest of
Savoy, to menace an immediate invasion of the Netherlands, and to awe
and overbear the whole Helvetic body, which is in a most perilous
situation: the great aristocratic Cantons having, perhaps, as much or
more to dread from their own people, whom they arm, but do not choose
or dare to employ, as from the foreign enemy, which against all public
faith has butchered their troops serving by treaty in France. To this
picture it is hardly necessary to add the means by which Prance has been
enabled to effect all this,--namely, the apparently entire destruction
of one of the largest and certainly the highest disciplined and best
appointed army ever seen, headed by the first military sovereign in
Europe, with a captain under him of the greatest renown; and that
without a blow given or received on any side. This state of things seems
to me, even if it went no further, truly serious.

Circumstances have enabled France to do all this by _land_. On the other
element she has begun to exert herself; and she must succeed in her
designs, if enemies very different from those she has hitherto had to
encounter do not resist her.

She has fitted out a naval force, now actually at sea, by which she is
enabled to give law to the whole Mediterranean. It is known as a fact,
(and if not so known, it is in the nature of things highly probable,)
that she proposes the ravage of the Ecclesiastical State and the pillage
of Rome, as her first object; that nest she means to bombard Naples,--to
awe, to humble, and thus to command, all Italy,--to force it to a
nominal neutrality, but to a real dependence,--to compel the Italian
princes and republics to admit the free entrance of the French commerce,
an open intercourse, and, the sure concomitant of that intercourse, the
_affiliated societies_, in a manner similar to those she has established
at Avignon, the Comtat, Chambéry, London, Manchester, &c, &c., which are
so many colonies planted in all these countries, for extending the
influence and securing the dominion of the French republic.

That there never has been hitherto a period in which this kingdom would
have suffered a French fleet to domineer in the Mediterranean, and to
force Italy to submit to such terms as France would think fit to
impose,--to say nothing of what has been done upon land in support of
the same system. The great object for which we preserved Minorca, whilst
we could keep it, and for which we still retain Gibraltar, both at a
great expense, was, and is, to prevent the predominance of France over
the Mediterranean.

Thus far as to the certain and immediate effect of that armament upon
the Italian States. The probable effect which that armament, and the
other armaments preparing at Toulon and other ports, may have upon
Spain, on the side of the Mediterranean, is worthy of the serious
attention of the British councils.

That it is most probable, we may say in a manner certain, that, if there
should be a rupture between France and Spain, France will not confine
her offensive piratical operations against Spain to her efforts in the
Mediterranean; on which side, however, she may grievously affect Spain,
especially if she excites Morocco and Algiers, which undoubtedly she
will, to fall upon that power.

That she will fit out armaments upon the ocean, by which the flota
itself may be intercepted, and thus the treasures of all Europe, as well
as the largest and surest resources of the Spanish monarchy, may be
conveyed into France, and become powerful instruments for the annoyance
of all her neighbors.

That she makes no secret of her designs.

That, if the inward and outward bound flota should escape, still France
has more and better means of dissevering many of the provinces in the
West and East Indies from the state of Spain than Holland had, when she
succeeded in the same attempt. The French marine resembles not a little
the old armaments of the Flibustiers, which about a century back, in
conjunction with pirates of our nation, brought such calamities upon the
Spanish colonies. They differ only in this,--that the present piratical
force is out of all measure and comparison greater: one hundred and
fifty ships of the line and frigates being ready-built, most of them in
a manner new, and all applicable in different ways to that service.
Privateers and Moorish corsairs possess not the best seamanship, and
very little discipline, and indeed can make no figure in regular
service; but in desperate adventures, and animated with a lust of
plunder, they are truly formidable.

That the land forces of France are well adapted to concur with their
marine in conjunct expeditions of this nature. In such expeditions,
enterprise supplies the want of discipline, and perhaps more than
supplies it. Both for this, and for other service, (however contemptible
their military is in other respects,) one arm is extremely good, the
engineering and artillery branch. The old officer corps in both being
composed for the greater part of those who were not gentlemen, or
gentlemen newly such, few have abandoned the service, and the men are
veterans, well enough disciplined, and very expert. In this piratical
way they must make war with good advantage. They must do so, even on the
side of Flanders, either offensively or defensively. This shows the
difference between the policy of Louis the Fourteenth, who built a wall
of brass about his kingdom, and that of Joseph the Second, who
premeditatedly uncovered his whole frontier.

That Spain, from the actual and expected prevalence of French power, is
in a most perilous situation,--perfectly dependent on the mercy of that
republic. If Austria is broken, or even humbled, she will not dare to
dispute its mandates.

In the present state of things, we have nothing at all to dread from the
power of Spain by sea or by land, or from any rivalry in commerce.

That we have much to dread from the connections into which Spain may be
forced.

From the circumstances of her territorial possessions, of her resources,
and the whole of her civil and political state, we may be authorized
safely and with undoubted confidence to affirm that

_Spain is not a substantive power_.

That she must lean on France or on England.

That it is as much for the interest of Great Britain to prevent the
predominancy of a French interest in that kingdom as if Spain were a
province of the crown of Great Britain, or a state actually dependent on
it,--full as much so as ever Portugal was reputed to be. This is a
dependency of much greater value; and its destruction, or its being
carried to any other dependency, of much more serious misfortune.

One of these two things must happen: either Spain must submit to
circumstances and take such conditions as France will impose, or she
must engage in hostilities along with the Emperor and the king of
Sardinia.

If Spain should be forced or awed into a treaty with the republic of
France, she must open her ports and her commerce, as well as the land
communication for the French laborers, who were accustomed annually to
gather in the harvest in Spain. Indeed, she must grant a free
communication for travellers and traders through her whole country. In
that case it is not conjectural, it is certain, the clubs will give law
in the provinces; Bourgoing, or some such miscreant, will give law at
Madrid.

In this England may acquiesce, if she pleases; and France will conclude
a triumphant peace with Spain under her absolute dependence, with a
broad highway into that, and into every state of Europe. She actually
invites Great Britain to divide with her the spoils of the New World,
and to make a partition of the Spanish monarchy. Clearly, it is better
to do so than to suffer France to possess those spoils and that
territory alone; which, without doubt, unresisted by us, she is
altogether as able as she is willing to do.

This plan is proposed by the French in the way in which they propose all
their plans,--and in the only way in which, indeed, they can propose
them, where there is no regular communication between his Majesty and
their republic.

What they propose is _a plan_. It is _a plan_ also to resist their
predatory project. To remain quiet, and to suffer them to make their own
use of a naval power before our face, so as to awe and bully Spain into
a submissive peace, or to drive them into a ruinous war, without any
measure on our part, I fear is no plan at all.

However, if the plan of coöperation which France desires, and which her
affiliated societies here ardently wish and are constantly writing up,
should not be adopted, and the war between the Emperor and France
should continue, I think it not at all likely that Spain should not be
drawn into the quarrel. In that case, the neutrality of England will be
a thing absolutely impossible. The time only is the subject of
deliberation.

Then the question will be, whether we are to defer putting ourselves
into a posture for the common defence, either by armament, or
negotiation, or both, until Spain is actually attacked,--that is,
whether our court will take a decided part for Spain, whilst Spain, on
her side, is yet in a condition to act with whatever degree of vigor she
may have, whilst that vigor is yet unexhausted,--or whether we shall
connect ourselves with her broken fortunes, after she shall have
received material blows, and when we shall have the whole slow length of
that always unwieldy and ill-constructed, and then wounded and crippled
body, to drag after us, rather than to aid us. Whilst our disposition is
uncertain, Spain will not dare to put herself in such a state of defence
as will make her hostility formidable or her neutrality respectable.

If the decision is such as the solution of this question (I take it to
be the true question) conducts to, no time is to be lost. But the
measures, though prompt, ought not to be rash and indigested. They ought
to be well chosen, well combined, and well pursued. The system must be
general; but it must be executed, not successively, or with
interruption, but all together, _uno flatu_, in one melting, and one
mould.

For this purpose we must put Europe before us, which plainly is, just
now, in all its parts, in a state of dismay, derangement, and confusion,
and, very possibly amongst all its sovereigns, full of secret
heartburning, distrust, and mutual accusation. Perhaps it may labor
under worse evils. There is no vigor anywhere, except the distempered
vigor and energy of France. That country has but too much life in it,
when everything around is so disposed to tameness and languor. The very
vices of the French system at home tend to give force to foreign
exertions. The generals _must_ join the armies. They must lead them to
enterprise, or they are likely to perish by their hands. Thus, without
law or government of her own, France gives law to all the governments in
Europe.

This great mass of political matter must have been always under the view
of thinkers for the public, whether they act in office or not. Amongst
events, even the late calamitous events were in the book of contingency.
Of course they must have been in design, at least, provided for. A plan
which takes in as many as possible of the states concerned will rather
tend to facilitate and simplify a rational scheme for preserving Spain
(if that were our sole, as I think it ought to be our principal object)
than to delay and perplex it.

If we should think that a provident policy (perhaps now more than
provident, urgent and necessary) should lead us to act, we cannot take
measures as if nothing had been done. We must see the faults, if any,
which have conducted to the present misfortunes: not for the sake of
criticism, military or political, or from the common motives of blaming
persons and counsels which have not been successful, but in order, if we
can, to administer some remedy to these disasters, by the adoption of
plans more bottomed in principle, and built on with more discretion.
Mistakes may be lessons.

There seem, indeed, to have been several mistakes in the political
principles on which the war was entered into, as well as in the plans
upon which it was conducted,--some of them very fundamental, and not
only visibly, but I may say palpably erroneous; and I think him to have
less than the discernment of a very ordinary statesman, who could not
foresee, from the very beginning, unpleasant consequences from those
plans, though not the unparalleled disgraces and disasters which really
did attend them: for they were, both principles and measures, wholly new
and out of the common course, without anything apparently very grand in
the conception to justify this total departure from all rule.

For, in the first place, the united sovereigns very much injured their
cause by admitting that they had nothing to do with the interior
arrangements of France,--in contradiction to the whole tenor of the
public law of Europe, and to the correspondent practice of all its
states, from the time we have any history of them. In this particular,
the two German courts seem to have as little consulted the publicists of
Germany as their own true interests, and those of all the sovereigns of
Germany and Europe. This admission of a false principle in the law of
nations brought them into an apparent contradiction, when they insisted
on the reëstablishment of the royal authority in France. But this
confused and contradictory proceeding gave rise to a practical error of
worse consequence. It was derived from one and the same root: namely,
that the person of the monarch of France was everything; and the
monarchy, and the intermediate orders of the state, by which the
monarchy was upheld, were nothing. So that, if the united potentates had
succeeded so far as to reëstablish the authority of that king, and that
he should be so ill-advised as to confirm all the confiscations, and to
recognize as a lawful body and to class himself with that rabble of
murderers, (and there wanted not persons who would so have advised him,)
there was nothing in the principle or in the proceeding of the united
powers to prevent such an arrangement.

An expedition to free a brother sovereign from prison was undoubtedly a
generous and chivalrous undertaking. But the spirit and generosity would
not have been less, if the policy had been more profound and more
comprehensive,--that is, if it had taken in those considerations and
those persons by whom, and, in some measure, for whom, monarchy exists.
This would become a bottom for a system of solid and permanent policy,
and of operations conformable to that system.

The same fruitful error was the cause why nothing was done to impress
the people of France (so far as we can at all consider the inhabitants
of France as a people) with an idea that the government was ever to be
really French, or indeed anything else than the nominal government of a
monarch, a monarch absolute as over them, but whose sole support was to
arise from foreign potentates, and who was to be kept on his throne by
German forces,--in short, that the king of France was to be a viceroy to
the Emperor and the king of Prussia.

It was the first time that foreign powers, interfering in the concerns
of a nation divided into parties, have thought proper to thrust wholly
out of their councils, to postpone, to discountenance, to reject, and,
in a manner, to disgrace, the party whom those powers came to support.
The single person of a king cannot be a party. Woe to the king who is
himself his party! The royal party, with the king or his representatives
at its head, is the _royal cause_. Foreign powers have hitherto chosen
to give to such wars as this the appearance of a civil contest, and not
that of an hostile invasion. When the Spaniards, in the sixteenth
century, sent aids to the chiefs of the League, they appeared as allies
to that league, and to the imprisoned king (the Cardinal de Bourbon)
which that league had set up. When the Germans came to the aid of the
Protestant princes, in the same series of civil wars, they came as
allies. When the English came to the aid of Henry the Fourth, they
appeared as allies to that prince. So did the French always, when they
intermeddled in the affairs of Germany: they came to aid a party there.
When the English and Dutch intermeddled in the succession of Spain, they
appeared as allies to the Emperor, Charles the Sixth. In short, the
policy has been as uniform as its principles were obvious to an ordinary
eye.

According to all the old principles of law and policy, a regency ought
to have been appointed by the French princes of the blood, nobles, and
parliaments, and then recognized by the combined powers. Fundamental law
and ancient usage, as well as the clear reason of the thing, have always
ordained it during an imprisonment of the king of France: as in the case
of John, and of Francis the First. A monarchy ought not to be left a
moment without a representative having an interest in the succession.
The orders of the state ought also to have been recognized in those
amongst whom alone they existed in freedom, that is, in the emigrants.

Thus, laying down a firm foundation on the recognition of the
authorities of the kingdom of France, according to Nature and to its
fundamental laws, and not according to the novel and inconsiderate
principles of the usurpation which the united powers were come to
extirpate, the king of Prussia and the Emperor, as allies of the ancient
kingdom of France, would have proceeded with dignity, first, to free the
monarch, if possible,--if not, to secure the monarchy as principal in
the design; and in order to avoid all risks to that great object, (the
object of other ages than the present, and of other countries than that
of France,) they would of course avoid proceeding with more haste or in
a different manner than what the nature of such an object required.

Adopting this, the only rational system, the rational mode of proceeding
upon it was to commence with an effective siege of Lisle, which the
French generals must have seen taken before their faces, or be forced to
fight. A plentiful country of friends, from whence to draw supplies,
would have been behind them; a plentiful country of enemies, from whence
to force supplies, would have been before them. Good towns were always
within reach to deposit their hospitals and magazines. The march from
Lisle to Paris is through a less defensible country, and the distance is
hardly so great as from Longwy to Paris.

If the _old_ politic and military ideas had governed, the advanced guard
would have been formed of those who best knew the country and had some
interest in it, supported by some of the best light troops and light
artillery, whilst the grand solid body of an army disciplined to
perfection proceeded leisurely, and in close connection with all its
stores, provisions, and heavy cannon, to support the expedite body in
case of misadventure, or to improve and complete its success.

The direct contrary of all this was put in practice. In consequence of
the original sin of this project, the army of the French princes was
everywhere thrown into the rear, and no part of it brought forward to
the last moment, the time of the commencement of the secret negotiation.
This naturally made an ill impression on the people, and furnished an
occasion for the rebels at Paris to give out that the faithful subjects
of the king were distrusted, despised, and abhorred by his allies. The
march was directed through a skirt of Lorraine, and thence into a part
of Champagne, the Duke of Brunswick leaving all the strongest places
behind him,--leaving also behind him the strength of his artillery,--and
by this means giving a superiority to the French, in the only way in
which the present France is able to oppose a German force.

In consequence of the adoption of those false politics, which turned
everything on the king's sole and single person, the whole plan of the
war was reduced to nothing but a _coup de main_, in order to set that
prince at liberty. If that failed, everything was to be given up.

The scheme of a _coup de main_ might (under favorable circumstances) be
very fit for a partisan at the head of a light corps, by whose failure
nothing material would be deranged. But for a royal army of eighty
thousand men, headed by a king in person, who was to march an hundred
and fifty miles through an enemy's country,--surely, this was a plan
unheard of.

Although this plan was not well chosen, and proceeded upon principles
altogether ill-judged and impolitic, the superiority of the military
force might in a great degree have supplied the defects, and furnished a
corrective to the mistakes. The greater probability was, that the Duke
of Brunswick would make his way to Paris over the bellies of the rabble
of drunkards, robbers, assassins, rioters, mutineers, and half-grown
boys, under the ill-obeyed command of a theatrical, vaporing, reduced
captain of cavalry, who opposed that great commander and great army.
But--_Diis aliter visum_. He began to treat,--the winds blew and the
rains beat,--the house fell, because it was built upon sand,--and great
was the fall thereof. This march was not an exact copy of either of the
two marches made by the Duke of Parma into France.

There is some secret. Sickness and weather may defeat an army pursuing a
wrong plan: not that I believe the sickness to have been so great as it
has been reported; but there is a great deal of superfluous humiliation
in this business, a perfect prodigality of disgrace. Some advantage,
real or imaginary, must compensate to a great sovereign and to a great
general for so immense a loss of reputation. Longwy, situated as it is,
might (one should think) be evacuated without a capitulation with a
republic just proclaimed by the king of Prussia as an usurping and
rebellious body. He was not far from Luxembourg. He might have taken
away the obnoxious French in his flight. It does not appear to have been
necessary that those magistrates who declared for their own king, on the
faith and under the immediate protection of the king of Prussia, should
be delivered over to the gallows. It was not necessary that the
emigrant nobility and gentry who served with the king of Prussia's army,
under his immediate command, should be excluded from the cartel, and
given up to be hanged as rebels. Never was so gross and so cruel a
breach of the public faith, not with an enemy, but with a friend.
Dumouriez has dropped very singular hints. Custine has spoken out more
broadly. These accounts have never been contradicted. They tend to make
an eternal rupture between the powers. The French have given out, that
the Duke of Brunswick endeavored to negotiate some name and place for
the captive king, amongst the murderers and proscribers of those who
have lost their all for his cause. Even this has not been denied.

It is singular, and, indeed, a thing, under all its circumstances,
inconceivable, that everything should by the Emperor be abandoned to the
king of Prussia. That monarch was considered as principal. In the nature
of things, as well as in his position with regard to the war, he was
only an ally, and a new ally, with crossing interests in many
particulars, and of a policy rather uncertain. At best, and supposing
him to act with the greatest fidelity, the Emperor and the Empire to him
must be but secondary objects. Countries out of Germany must affect him
in a still more remote manner. France, other than from the fear of its
doctrinal principles, can to him be no object at all. Accordingly, the
Rhine, Sardinia, and the Swiss are left to their fate. The king of
Prussia has no _direct_ and immediate concern with France;
_consequentially_, to be sure, a great deal: but the Emperor touches
France _directly_ in many parts; he is a near neighbor to Sardinia, by
his Milanese territories; he borders on Switzerland; Cologne, possessed
by his uncle, is between Mentz, Treves, and the king of Prussia's
territories on the Lower Rhine. The Emperor is the natural guardian of
Italy and Germany,--the natural balance against the ambition of France,
whether republican or monarchical. His ministers and his generals,
therefore, ought to have had their full share in every material
consultation,--which I suspect they had not. If he has no minister
capable of plans of policy which comprehend the superintendency of a
war, or no general with the least of a political head, things have been
as they must be. However, in all the parts of this strange proceeding
there must be a secret.

It is probably known to ministers. I do not mean to penetrate into it.
My speculations on this head must be only conjectural. If the king of
Prussia, under the pretext or on the reality of some information
relative to ill practice on the part of the court of Vienna, takes
advantage of his being admitted into the heart of the Emperor's
dominions in the character of an ally, afterwards to join the common
enemy, and to enable France to seize the Netherlands, and to reduce and
humble the Empire, I cannot conceive, upon every principle, anything
more alarming for this country, separately, and as a part of the general
system. After all, we may be looking in vain in the regions of politics
for what is only the operation of temper and character upon accidental
circumstances. But I never knew accidents to decide the _whole_ of any
great business; and I never knew temper to act, but that some system of
politics agreeable to its peculiar spirit was blended with it,
strengthened it, and got strength from it. Therefore the politics can
hardly be put out of the question.

Great mistakes have been committed: at least I hope so. If there have
been none, the case in future is desperate. I have endeavored to point
out some of those which have occurred to me, and most of them very
early.

Whatever may be the cause of the present state of things, on a full and
mature view and comparison of the historical matter, of the transactions
that have passed before our eyes, and of the future prospect, I think I
am authorized to form an opinion without the least hesitation.

That there never was, nor is, nor ever will be, nor ever can be, the
least rational hope of making an impression on France by any Continental
powers, if England is not a part, is not the directing part, is not the
soul, of the whole confederacy against it.

This, so far as it is an anticipation of future, is grounded on the
whole tenor of former history. In speculation it is to be accounted for
on two plain principles.

First, That Great Britain is likely to take a more fair and equal part
in the alliance than the other powers, as having less of crossing
interest or perplexed discussion with any of them.

Secondly, Because France cannot have to deal with any of these
Continental sovereigns, without their feeling that nation, as a maritime
power, greatly superior to them all put together,--a force which is only
to be kept in check by England.

England, except during the eccentric aberration of Charles the Second,
has always considered it as her duty and interest to take her place in
such a confederacy. Her chief disputes must ever be with France; and if
England shows herself indifferent and unconcerned, when these powers are
combined against the enterprises of France, she is to look with
certainty for the same indifference on the part of these powers, when
she may be at war with that nation. This will tend totally to disconnect
this kingdom from the system of Europe, in which if she ought not rashly
to meddle, she ought never wholly to withdraw herself from it.

If, then, England is put in motion, whether by a consideration of the
general safety, or of the influence of France upon Spain, or by the
probable operations of this new system on the Netherlands, it must
embrace in its project the whole as much as possible, and the part it
takes ought to be as much as possible a leading and presiding part.

I therefore beg leave to suggest,--

First, That a minister should forthwith be sent to Spain, to encourage
that court to persevere in the measures they have adopted against
France,--to make a close alliance and guaranty of possessions, as
against France, with that power,--and, whilst the formality of the
treaty is pending, to assure them of our protection, postponing any
lesser disputes to another occasion.

Secondly, To assure the court of Vienna of our desire to enter into our
ancient connections with her, and to support her effectually in the war
which France has declared against her.

Thirdly, To animate the Swiss and the king of Sardinia to take a part,
as the latter once did on the principles of the Grand Alliance.

Fourthly, To put an end to our disputes with Russia, and mutually to
forget the past. I believe, if she is satisfied of this oblivion, she
will return to her old sentiments with regard to this court, and will
take a more forward part in this business than any other power.

Fifthly, If what has happened to the king of Prussia is only in
consequence of a sort of panic or of levity, and an indisposition to
persevere long in one design, the support and concurrence of Russia will
tend to steady him, and to give him resolution. If he be ill-disposed,
with that power on his back, and without one ally in Europe, I conceive
he will not be easily led to derange the plan.

Sixthly, To use the joint influence of our court, and of our then allied
powers, with Holland, to arm as fully as she can by sea, and to make
some addition by land.

Seventhly, To acknowledge the king of France's next brother (assisted by
such a council and such representatives of the kingdom of France as
shall be thought proper) regent of France, and to send that prince a
small supply of money, arms, clothing, and artillery.

Eighthly, To give force to these negotiations, an instant naval armament
ought to be adopted,--one squadron for the Mediterranean, another for
the Channel. The season is convenient,--most of our trade being, as I
take it, at home.

After speaking of a plan formed upon the ancient policy and practice of
Great Britain and of Europe, to which this is exactly conformable in
every respect, with no deviation whatsoever, and which is, I conceive,
much more strongly called for by the present circumstances than by any
former, I must take notice of another, which I hear, but cannot persuade
myself to believe, is in agitation. This plan is grounded upon the very
same view of things which is here stated,--namely, the danger to all
sovereigns, and old republics, from the prevalence of French power and
influence.

It is, to form a congress of all the European powers for the purpose of
a general defensive alliance, the objects of which should be,--

First, The recognition of this new republic, (which they well know is
formed on the principles and for the declared purpose of the destruction
of all kings,) and, whenever the heads of this new republic shall
consent to release the royal captives, to make peace with them.

Secondly, To defend themselves with their joint forces against the open
aggressions, or the secret practices, intrigues, and writings, which are
used to propagate the French principles.

It is easy to discover from whose shop this commodity comes. It is so
perfectly absurd, that, if that or anything like it meets with a serious
entertainment in any cabinet, I should think it the effect of what is
called a judicial blindness, the certain forerunner of the destruction
of all crowns and kingdoms.

An _offensive_ alliance, in which union is preserved by common efforts
in common dangers against a common active enemy, may preserve its
consistency, and may produce for a given time some considerable effect:
though this is not easy, and for any very long period can hardly be
expected. But a _defensive_ alliance, formed of long discordant
interests, with innumerable discussions existing, having no one pointed
object to which it is directed, which is to be held together with an
unremitted vigilance, as watchful in peace as in war, is so evidently
impossible, is such a chimera, is so contrary to human nature and the
course of human affairs, that I am persuaded no person in his senses,
except those whose country, religion, and sovereign are deposited in the
French funds, could dream of it. There is not the slightest petty
boundary suit, no difference between a family arrangement, no sort of
misunderstanding or cross purpose between the pride and etiquette of
courts, that would not entirely disjoint this sort of alliance, and
render it as futile in its effects as it is feeble in its principle. But
when we consider that the main drift of that defensive alliance must be
to prevent the operation of intrigue, mischievous doctrine, and evil
example, in the success of unprovoked rebellion, regicide, and
systematic assassination and massacre, the absurdity of such a scheme
becomes quite lamentable. Open the communication with France, and the
rest follows of course.

How far the interior circumstances of this country support what is said
with regard to its foreign polities must be left to bettor judgments. I
am sure the French faction here is infinitely strengthened by the
success of the assassins on the other side of the water. This evil in
the heart of Europe must be extirpated from that centre, or no part of
the circumference can be free from the mischief which radiates from it,
and which will spread, circle beyond circle, in spite of all the little
defensive precautions which can be employed against it.

I do not put my name to these hints submitted to the consideration of
reflecting men. It is of too little importance to suppose the name of
the writer could add any weight to the state of things contained in this
paper. That state of things presses irresistibly on my judgment, and it
lies, and has long lain, with a heavy weight upon my mind. I cannot
think that what is done in France is beneficial to the human race. If it
were, the English Constitution ought no more to stand against it than
the ancient Constitution of the kingdom in which the new system
prevails. I thought it the duty of a man not unconcerned for the public,
and who is a faithful subject to the king, respectfully to submit this
state of facts, at this new step in the progress of the French arms and
politics, to his Majesty, to his confidential servants, and to those
persons who, though not in office, by their birth, their rank, their
fortune, their character, and their reputation for wisdom, seem to me to
have a large stake in the stability of the ancient order of things.

BATH, November 5, 1792.




REMARKS

ON

THE POLICY OF THE ALLIES

WITH RESPECT TO FRANCE.

BEGUN IN OCTOBER, 1793.




ON THE POLICY OF THE ALLIES.


As the proposed manifesto is, I understand, to promulgate to the world
the general idea of a plan for the regulation of a great kingdom, and
through the regulation of that kingdom probably to decide the fate of
Europe forever, nothing requires a more serious deliberation with regard
to the time of making it, the circumstances of those to whom it is
addressed, and the matter it is to contain.

As to the time, (with the due diffidence in my own opinion,) I have some
doubts whether it is not rather unfavorable to the issuing any manifesto
with regard to the intended government of France, and for this reason:
that it is (upon the principal point of our attack) a time of calamity
and defeat. Manifestoes of this nature are commonly made when the army
of some sovereign enters into the enemy's country in great force, and
under the imposing authority of that force employs menaces towards those
whom he desires to awe, and makes promises to those whom he wishes to
engage in his favor.

As to a party, what has been done at Toulon leaves no doubt that the
party for which we declare must be that which substantially declares for
royalty as the basis of the government.

As to menaces, nothing, in my opinion, can contribute more effectually
to lower any sovereign in the public estimation, and to turn his
defeats into disgraces, than to threaten in a moment of impotence. The
second manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick appeared, therefore, to the
world to be extremely ill-timed. However, if his menaces in that
manifesto had been seasonable, they were not without an object. Great
crimes then apprehended, and great evils then impending, were to be
prevented. At this time, every act which early menaces might possibly
have _prevented_ is done. Punishment and vengeance alone remain,--and
God forbid that they should ever be forgotten! But the punishment of
enormous offenders will not be the less severe, or the less exemplary,
when it is not threatened at a moment when we have it not in our power
to execute our threats. On the other side, to pass by proceedings of
such a nefarious nature, in all kinds, as have been carried on in
France, without any signification of resentment, would be in effect to
ratify them, and thus to become accessaries after the fact in all those
enormities which it is impossible to repeat or think of without horror.
An absolute silence appears to me to be at this time the only safe
course.

The second usual matter of manifestoes is composed of _promises_ to
those who cooperate with our designs. These promises depend in a great
measure, if not wholly, on the apparent power of the person who makes
them to fulfil his engagements. A time of disaster on the part of the
promiser seems not to add much to the dignity of his person or to the
effect of his offers. One would hardly wish to seduce any unhappy
persons to give the last provocation to a merciless tyranny, without
very effectual means of protecting them.

The time, therefore, seems (as I said) not favorable to a general
manifesto, on account of the unpleasant situation of our affairs.
However, I write in a changing scene, when a measure very imprudent
to-day may be very proper to-morrow. Some great victory may alter the
whole state of the question, so far as it regards our _power_ of
fulfilling any engagement we may think fit to make.

But there is another consideration of far greater importance for all the
purposes of this manifesto. The public, and the parties concerned, will
look somewhat to the disposition of the promiser indicated by his
conduct, as well as to his power of fulfilling his engagements.

Speaking of this nation as part of a general combination of powers, are
we quite sure that others can believe us to be sincere, or that we can
be even fully assured of our own sincerity, in the protection of those
who shall risk their lives for the restoration of monarchy in France,
when the world sees that those who are the natural, legal,
constitutional representatives of that monarchy, if it has any, have not
had their names so much as mentioned in any one public act, that in no
way whatever are their persons brought forward, that their rights have
not been expressly or implicitly allowed, and that they have not been in
the least consulted on the important interests they have at stake? On
the contrary, they are kept in a state of obscurity and contempt, and in
a degree of indigence at times bordering on beggary. They are, in fact,
little less prisoners in the village of Hanau than the royal captives
who are locked up in the tower of the Temple. What is this, according to
the common indications which guide the judgment of mankind, but, under
the pretext of protecting the crown of France, in reality to usurp it?

I am also very apprehensive that there are other circumstances which
must tend to weaken the force of our declarations. No partiality to the
allied powers can prevent great doubts on the fairness of our intentions
as supporters of the crown of France, or of the true principles of
legitimate government in opposition to Jacobinism, when it is visible
that the two leading orders of the state of France, who are now the
victims, and who must always be the true and sole supports of monarchy
in that country, are, at best, in some of their descriptions, considered
only as objects of charity, and others are, when employed, employed only
as mercenary soldiers,--that they are thrown back out of all reputable
service, are in a manner disowned, considered as nothing in their own
cause, and never once consulted in the concerns of their king, their
country, their laws, their religion, and their property. We even affect
to be ashamed of them. In all our proceedings we carefully avoid the
appearance of being of a party with them. In all our ideas of treaty we
do not regard them as what they are, the two leading orders of the
kingdom. If we do not consider them in that light, we must recognize the
savages by whom they have been ruined, and who have declared war upon
Europe, whilst they disgrace and persecute human nature, and openly defy
the God that made them, as real proprietors of France.

I am much afraid, too, that we shall scarcely be believed fair
supporters of lawful monarchy against Jacobinism, so long as we continue
to make and to observe cartels with the Jacobins, and on fair terms
exchange prisoners with them, whilst the Royalists, invited to our
standard, and employed under our public faith against the Jacobins, if
taken by that savage faction, are given up to the executioner without
the least attempt whatsoever at reprisal. For this we are to look at the
king of Prussia's conduct, compared with his manifestoes about a
twelvemonth ago. For this we are to look at the capitulations of Mentz
and Valenciennes, made in the course of the present campaign. By those
two capitulations the Christian Royalists were excluded from any
participation in the cause of the combined powers. They were considered
as the outlaws of Europe. Two armies were in effect sent against them.
One of those armies (that which surrendered Mentz) was very near
overpowering the Christians of Poitou, and the other (that which
surrendered at Valenciennes) has actually crushed the people whom
oppression and despair had driven to resistance at Lyons, has massacred
several thousands of them in cold blood, pillaged the whole substance of
the place, and pursued their rage to the very houses, condemning that
noble city to desolation, in the unheard-of manner we have seen it
devoted.

It is, then, plain, by a conduct which overturns a thousand
declarations, that we take the Royalists of France only as an instrument
of some convenience in a temporary hostility with the Jacobins, but that
we regard those atheistic and murderous barbarians as the _bonâ fide_
possessors of the soil of France. It appears, at least, that we consider
them as a fair government _de facto_, if not _de jure_, a resistance to
which, in favor of the king of Prance, by any man who happened to be
born within that country, might equitably be considered by other
nations as the crime of treason.

For my part, I would sooner put my hand into the fire than sign an
invitation to oppressed men to fight under my standard, and then, on
every sinister event of war, cruelly give them up to be punished as the
basest of traitors, as long as I had one of the common enemy in my hands
to be put to death in order to secure those under my protection, and to
vindicate the common honor of sovereigns. We hear nothing of this kind
of security in favor of those whom we invite to the support of our
cause. Without it, I am not a little apprehensive that the proclamations
of the combined powers might (contrary to their intention, no doubt) be
looked upon as frauds, and cruel traps laid for their lives.

So far as to the correspondence between our declarations and our
conduct: let the declaration be worded as it will, the conduct is the
practical comment by which, and which alone, it can be understood. This
conduct, acting on the declaration, leaves a monarchy without a monarch,
and without any representative or trustee for the monarch and the
monarchy. It supposes a kingdom without states and orders, a territory
without proprietors, and faithful subjects who are to be left to the
fate of rebels and traitors.

The affair of the establishment of a government is a very difficult
undertaking for foreign powers to act in as _principals_; though as
_auxiliaries and mediators_ it has been not at all unusual, and may be a
measure full of policy and humanity and true dignity.

The first thing we ought to do, supposing us not giving the law as
conquerors, but acting as friendly powers applied to for counsel and
assistance in the settlement of a distracted country, is well to
consider the composition, nature, and temper of its objects, and
particularly of those who actually do or who ought to exercise power in
that state. It is material to know who they are, and how constituted,
whom we consider as _the people of France_.

The next consideration is, through whom our arrangements are to be made,
and on what principles the government we propose is to be established.

The first question on the people is this: Whether we are to consider the
individuals _now actually in France, numerically taken and arranged into
Jacobin clubs_, as the body politic, constituting the nation of
France,--or whether we consider the original individual proprietors of
lands, expelled since the Revolution, and the states and the bodies
politic, such as the colleges of justice called Parliaments, the
corporations, noble and not noble, of bailliages and towns and cities,
the bishops and the clergy, as the true constituent parts of the nation,
and forming the legally organized parts of the people of France.

In this serious concern it is very necessary that we should have the
most distinct ideas annexed to the terms we employ; because it is
evident that an abuse of the term _people_ has been the original,
fundamental cause of those evils, the cure of which, by war and policy,
is the present object of all the states of Europe.

If we consider the acting power in Prance, in any legal construction of
public law, as the people, the question is decided in favor of the
republic one and indivisible. But we have decided for monarchy. If so,
we have a king and subjects; and that king and subjects have rights and
privileges which ought to be supported at home: for I do not suppose
that the government of that kingdom can or ought to be regulated by the
arbitrary mandate of a foreign confederacy.

As to the faction exercising power, to suppose that monarchy can be
supported by principled regicides, religion by professed atheists, order
by clubs of Jacobins, property by committees of proscription, and
jurisprudence by revolutionary tribunals, is to be sanguine in a degree
of which I am incapable. On them I decide, for myself, that these
persons are not the legal corporation of France, and that it is not with
them we can (if we would) settle the government of France.

Since, then, we have decided for monarchy in that kingdom, we ought also
to settle who is to be the monarch, who is to be the guardian of a
minor, and how the monarch and monarchy is to be modified and supported;
if the monarch is to be elected, who the electors are to be,--if
hereditary, what order is established, corresponding with an hereditary
monarchy, and fitted to maintain it; who are to modify it in its
exercise; who are to restrain its powers, where they ought to be
limited, to strengthen them, where they are to be supported, or, to
enlarge them, where the object, the time, and the circumstances may
demand their extension. These are things which, in the outline, ought to
be made distinct and clear; for if they are not, (especially with regard
to those great points, who are the proprietors of the soil, and what is
the corporation of the kingdom,) there is nothing to hinder the complete
establishment of a Jacobin republic, (such as that formed in 1790 and
1791,) under the name of a _Démocratie Royale_. Jacobinism does not
consist in the having or not having a certain pageant under the name of
a king, but "in taking the people as equal individuals, without any
corporate name or description, without attention to property, without
division of powers, and forming the government of delegates from a
number of men so constituted,--in destroying or confiscating property,
and bribing the public creditors, or the poor, with the spoils, now of
one part of the community, now of another, without regard to
prescription or possession."

I hope no one can be so very blind as to imagine that monarchy can be
acknowledged and supported in France upon any other basis than that of
its property, _corporate and individual_,--or that it can enjoy a
moment's permanence or security upon any scheme of things which sets
aside all the ancient corporate capacities and distinctions of the
kingdom, and subverts the whole fabric of its ancient laws and usages,
political, civil, and religious, to introduce a system founded on the
supposed _rights of man, and the absolute equality of the human race_.
Unless, therefore, we declare clearly and distinctly in favor of the
_restoration_ of property, and confide to the hereditary property of the
kingdom the limitation and qualifications of its hereditary monarchy,
the blood and treasure of Europe is wasted for the establishment of
Jacobinism in France. There is no doubt that Danton and Robespierre,
Chaumette and Barère, that Condorcet, that Thomas Paine, that La
Fayette, and the ex-Bishop of Autun, the _Abbé Grégoire_, with all the
gang of the Sieyèses, the Henriots, and the Santerres, if they could
secure themselves in the fruits of their rebellion and robbery, would
be perfectly indifferent, whether the most unhappy of all infants, whom
by the lessons of the shoemaker, his governor and guardian, they are
training up studiously and methodically to be an idiot, or, what is
worse, the most wicked and base of mankind, continues to receive his
civic education in the Temple or the Tuileries, whilst they, and such as
they, really govern the kingdom.

It cannot be too often and too strongly inculcated, that monarchy and
property must, in France, go together, or neither can exist. To think of
the possibility of the existence of a permanent and hereditary royalty,
_where nothing else is hereditary or permanent in point either of
personal or corporate dignity_, is a ruinous chimera, worthy of the Abbé
Sieyès, and those wicked fools, his associates, who usurped power by the
murders of the 19th of July and the 6th of October, 1789, and who
brought forth the monster which they called _Démocratie Royale_, or the
Constitution.

I believe that most thinking men would prefer infinitely some sober and
sensible form of a republic, in which there was no mention at all of a
king, but which held out some reasonable security to property, life, and
personal freedom, to a scheme of tilings like this _Démocratie Royale,_
founded on impiety, immorality, fraudulent currencies, the confiscation
of innocent individuals, and the pretended rights of man,--and which, in
effect, excluding the whole body of the nobility, clergy, and landed
property of a great nation, threw everything into the hands of a
desperate set of obscure adventurers, who led to every mischief a blind
and bloody band of _sans-culottes._ At the head, or rather at the tail,
of this system was a miserable pageant, as its ostensible instrument,
who was to be treated with every species of indignity, till the moment
when he was conveyed from the palace of contempt to the dungeon of
horror, and thence led by a brewer of his capital, through the applauses
of an hired, frantic, drunken multitude, to lose his head upon a
scaffold.

This is the Constitution, or _Démocratie Royale_; and this is what
infallibly would be again set up in France, to run exactly the same
round, if the predominant power should so far be forced to submit as to
receive the name of a king, leaving it to the Jacobins (that is, to
those who have subverted royalty and destroyed property) to modify the
one and to distribute the other as spoil. By the Jacobins I mean
indiscriminately the Brissotins and the Maratists, knowing no sort of
difference between them. As to any other party, none exists in that
unhappy country. The Royalists (those in Poitou excepted) are banished
and extinguished; and as to what they call the Constitutionalists, or
_Democrates Royaux_, they never had an existence of the smallest degree
of power, consideration, or authority, nor, if they differ at all from
the rest of the atheistic banditti, (which from their actions and
principles I have no reason to think,) were they ever any other than the
temporary tools and instruments of the more determined, able, and
systematic regicides. Several attempts have been made to support this
chimerical _Démocratie Royale_: the first was by La Fayette, the last by
Dumouriez: they tended only to show that this absurd project had no
party to support it. The Girondists under Wimpfen, and at Bordeaux, have
made some struggle. The Constitutionalists never could make any, and
for a very plain reason: they were _leaders in rebellion_. All their
principles and their whole scheme of government being republican, they
could never excite the smallest degree of enthusiasm in favor of the
unhappy monarch, whom they had rendered contemptible, to make him the
executive officer in their new commonwealth. They only appeared as
traitors to their own Jacobin cause, not as faithful adherents to the
king.

In an address to France, in an attempt to treat with it, or in
considering any scheme at all relative to it, it is impossible we should
mean the geographical, we must always mean the moral and political
country. I believe we shall be in a great error, if we act upon an idea
that there exists in that country any organized body of men who might be
willing to treat on equitable terms for the restoration of their
monarchy, but who are nice in balancing those terms, and who would
accept such as to them appeared reasonable, but who would quietly submit
to the predominant power, if they were not gratified in the fashion of
some constitution which suited with their fancies.

[Sidenote: No individual influence, civil or military.]

I take the state of France to be totally different. I know of no such
body, and of no such party. So far from a combination of twenty men,
(always excepting Poitou,) I never yet heard that _a single man_ could
be named of sufficient force or influence to answer for another man,
much less for the smallest district in the country, or for the most
incomplete company of soldiers in the army. We see every man that the
Jacobins choose to apprehend taken up in his village or in his house,
and conveyed to prison without the least shadow of resistance,--_and
this indifferently_, whether he is suspected of Royalism, or Federalism,
Moderantism, Democracy Royal, or any other of the names of faction which
they start by the hour. What is much more astonishing, (and, if we did
not carefully attend to the genius and circumstances of this Revolution,
must indeed appear incredible,) all their most accredited military men,
from a generalissimo to a corporal, may be arrested, (each in the midst
of his camp, and covered with the laurels of accumulated victories,)
tied neck and heels, thrown into a cart, and sent to Paris to be
disposed of at the pleasure of the Revolutionary tribunals.

[Sidenote: No corporations of justice, commerce, or police.]

As no individuals have power and influence, so there are no
corporations, whether of lawyers or burghers, existing. The Assembly
called Constituent, destroyed all such institutions very early. The
primary and secondary assemblies, by their original constitution, were
to be dissolved when they answered the purpose of electing the
magistrates, and were expressly disqualified from performing any
corporate act whatsoever. The transient magistrates have been almost all
removed before the expiration of their terms, and new have been lately
imposed upon the people without the form or ceremony of an election.
These magistrates during their existence are put under, as all the
executive authorities are from first to last, the popular societies
(called Jacobin clubs) of the several countries, and this by an express
order of the National Convention: it is even made a case of death to
oppose or attack those clubs. They, too, have been lately subjected to
an expurgatory scrutiny, to drive out from them everything savoring of
what they call the crime of _moderantism_, of which offence, however,
few were guilty. But as people began to take refuge from their
persecutions amongst themselves, they have driven them from that last
asylum.

The state of France is perfectly simple. It consists of but two
descriptions,--the oppressors and the oppressed.

The first has the whole authority of the state in their hands,--all the
arms, all the revenues of the public, all the confiscations of
individuals and corporations. They have taken the lower sort from their
occupations and have put them into pay, that they may form them into a
body of janizaries to overrule and awe property. The heads of these
wretches they never suffer to cool. They supply them with a food for
fury varied by the day,--besides the sensual state of intoxication, from
which they are rarely free. They have made the priests and people
formally abjure the Divinity; they have estranged them from every civil,
moral, and social, or even natural and instinctive sentiment, habit, and
practice, and have rendered them systematically savages, to make it
impossible for them to be the instruments of any sober and virtuous
arrangement, or to be reconciled to any state of order, under any name
whatsoever.

The other description--_the oppressed_--are people of some property:
they are the small relics of the persecuted landed interest; they are
the burghers and the farmers. By the very circumstance of their being of
some property, though numerous in some points of view, they cannot be
very considerable as _a number_. In cities the nature of their
occupations renders them domestic and feeble; in the country it
confines them to their farm for subsistence. The national guards are all
changed and reformed. Everything suspicious in the description of which
they were composed is rigorously disarmed. Committees, called of
vigilance and safety, are everywhere formed: a most severe and
scrutinizing inquisition, far more rigid than anything ever known or
imagined. Two persons cannot meet and confer without hazard to their
liberty, and even to their lives. Numbers scarcely credible have been
executed, and their property confiscated. At Paris, and in most other
towns, the bread they buy is a daily dole,--which they cannot obtain
without a daily ticket delivered to them by their masters. Multitudes of
all ages and sexes are actually imprisoned. I have reason to believe
that in France there are not, for various state crimes, so few as twenty
thousand[33] actually in jail,--a large proportion of people of property
in any state. If a father of a family should show any disposition to
resist or to withdraw himself from their power, his wife and children
are cruelly to answer for it. It is by means of these hostages that they
keep the troops, which they force by masses (as they call it) into the
field, true to their colors.

Another of their resources is not to be forgotten. They have lately
found a way of giving a sort of ubiquity to the supreme sovereign
authority, which no monarch has been able yet to give to any
representation of his.

The commissioners of the National Convention, who are the members of the
Convention itself, and really exercise all its powers, make continual
circuits through every province, and visits to every army. There they
supersede all the ordinary authorities, civil and military, and change
and alter everything at their pleasure. So that, in effect, no
deliberative capacity exists in any portion of the inhabitants.

Toulon, republican in principle, having taken its decision _in a moment
under the guillotine_, and before the arrival of these
commissioners,--Toulon, being a place regularly fortified, and having in
its bosom a navy in part highly discontented, has escaped, though by a
sort of miracle: and it would not have escaped, if two powerful fleets
had not been at the door, to give them not only strong, but prompt and
immediate succor, especially as neither this nor any other seaport town
in France can be depended on, from the peculiarly savage dispositions,
manners, and connections among the lower sort of people in those places.
This I take to be the true state of things in France, _so far as it
regards any existing bodies, whether of legal or voluntary association,
capable of acting or of treating in corps_.

As to the oppressed _individuals_, they are many, and as discontented as
men must be under the monstrous and complicated tyranny of all sorts
with which they are crushed. They want no stimulus to throw off this
dreadful yoke; but they do want, not manifestoes, which they have had
even to surfeit, but real protection, force, and succor.

The disputes and questions of men at their ease do not at all affect
their minds, or ever can occupy the minds of men in their situation.
These theories are long since gone by; they have had their day, and have
done their mischief. The question is not between the rabble of systems,
Fayettism, Condorcetism, Monarchism, or Democratism, or Federalism, on
the one side, and the fundamental laws of France on the other,--or
between all these systems amongst themselves. It is a controversy (weak,
indeed, and unequal, on the one part) between the proprietor and the
robber, between the prisoner and the jailer, between the neck and the
guillotine. Four fifths of the French inhabitants would thankfully take
protection from the emperor of Morocco, and would never trouble their
heads about the abstract principles of the power by which they were
snatched from imprisonment, robbery, and murder. But then these men can
do little or nothing for themselves. They have no arms, nor magazines,
nor chiefs, nor union, nor the possibility of these things within
themselves. On the whole, therefore, I lay it down as a certainty, that
in the Jacobins no change of mind is to be expected, and that no others
in the territory of France have an independent and deliberative
existence.

The truth is, that France is out of itself,--the moral France is
separated from the geographical. The master of the house is expelled,
and the robbers are in possession. If we look for the _corporate people_
of France, existing as corporate in the eye and intention of public law,
(that corporate people, I mean, who are free to deliberate and to
decide, and who have a capacity to treat and conclude,) they are in
Flanders, and Germany, in Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and England. There
are all the princes of the blood, there are all the orders of the state,
there are all the parliaments of the kingdom.

This being, as I conceive, the true state of France, as it exists
_territorially_, and as it exists _morally_, the question will be, with
whom we are to concert our arrangements, and whom we are to use as our
instruments in the reduction, in the pacification, and in the settlement
of France. The work to be done must indicate the workmen. Supposing us
to have national objects, we have two principal and one secondary. The
first two are so intimately connected as not to be separated even in
thought: the reëstablishment of royalty, and the reëstablishment of
property. One would think it requires not a great deal of argument to
prove that the most serious endeavors to restore royalty will be made by
Royalists. Property will be most energetically restored by the ancient
proprietors of that kingdom.

When I speak of Royalists, I wish to be understood of those who were
always such from principle. Every arm lifted up for royalty from the
beginning was the arm of a man so principled. I do not think there are
ten exceptions.

The principled Royalists are certainly not of force to effect these
objects by themselves. If they were, the operations of the present great
combination would be wholly unnecessary. What I contend for is, that
they should be consulted with, treated with, and employed; and that no
foreigners whatsoever are either in interest so engaged, or in judgment
and local knowledge so competent to answer all these purposes, as the
natural proprietors of the country.

Their number, for an exiled party, is also considerable. Almost the
whole body of the landed proprietors of France, ecclesiastical and
civil, have been steadily devoted to the monarchy. This body does not
amount to less than seventy thousand,--a very great number in the
composition of the respectable classes in any society. I am sure, that,
if half that number of the same description were taken out of this
country, it would leave hardly anything that I should call the people of
England. On the faith of the Emperor and the king of Prussia, a body of
ten thousand nobility on horseback, with the king's two brothers at
their head, served with the king of Prussia in the campaign of 1792, and
equipped themselves with the last shilling of their ruined fortunes and
exhausted credit.[34] It is not now the question, how that great force
came to be rendered useless and totally dissipated. I state it now, only
to remark that a great part of the same force exists, and would act, if
it were enabled. I am sure everything has shown us that in this war with
France one Frenchman is worth twenty foreigners. La Vendée is a proof of
this.

If we wish to make an impression on the minds of any persons in France,
or to persuade them to join our standard, it is impossible that they
should not be more easily led, and more readily formed and disciplined,
(civilly and martially disciplined,) by those who speak their language,
who are acquainted with their manners, who are conversant with their
usages and habits of thinking, and who have a local knowledge of their
country, and some remains of ancient credit and consideration, than with
a body congregated from all tongues and tribes. Where none of the
respectable native interests are seen in the transaction, it is
impossible that any declarations can convince those that are within, or
those that are without, that anything else than some sort of hostility
in the style of a conqueror is meant. At best, it will appear to such
wavering persons, (if such there are,) whom we mean to fix with us, a
choice whether they are to continue a prey to domestic banditti, or to
be fought for as a carrion carcass and picked to the bone by all the
crows and vultures of the sky. They may take protection, (and they
would, I doubt not,) but they can have neither alacrity nor zeal in such
a cause. When they see nothing but bands of English, Spaniards,
Neapolitans, Sardinians, Prussians, Austrians, Hungarians, Bohemians,
Slavonians, Croatians, _acting as principals_, it is impossible they
should think we come with a beneficent design. Many of those fierce and
barbarous people have already given proofs how little they regard any
French party whatsoever. Some of these nations the people of France are
jealous of: such are the English and the Spaniards;--others they
despise: such are the Italians;--others they hate and dread: such are
the German and Danubian powers. At best, such interposition of ancient
enemies excites apprehension; but in this case, how can they suppose
that we come to maintain their legitimate monarchy in a truly paternal
French government, to protect their privileges, their laws, their
religion, and their property, when they see us make use of no one person
who has any interest in them, any knowledge of them, or any the least
zeal for them? On the contrary, they see that we do not suffer any of
those who have shown a zeal in that cause which we seem to make our own
to come freely into any place in which the allies obtain any footing.

If we wish to gain upon any people, it is right to see what it is they
expect. We have had a proposal from the Royalists of Poitou. They are
well entitled, after a bloody war maintained for eight months against
all the powers of anarchy, to speak the sentiments of the Royalists of
France. Do they desire us to exclude their princes, their clergy, their
nobility? The direct contrary. They earnestly solicit that men of every
one of these descriptions should be sent to them. They do not call for
English, Austrian, or Prussian officers. They call for French emigrant
officers. They call for the exiled priests. They have demanded the Comte
d'Artois to appear at their head. These are the demands (quite natural
demands) of those who are ready to follow the standard of monarchy.

The great means, therefore, of restoring the monarchy, which we have
made _the main object of the war_, is, to assist the dignity, the
religion, and the property of France to repossess themselves of the
means of their natural influence. This ought to be the primary object of
all our politics and all our military operations. Otherwise everything
will move in a preposterous order, and nothing but confusion and
destruction will follow.

I know that misfortune is not made to win respect from ordinary minds. I
know that there is a leaning to prosperity, however obtained, and a
prejudice in its favor. I know there is a disposition to hope something
from the variety and inconstancy of villany, rather than from the
tiresome uniformity of fixed principle. There have been, I admit,
situations in which a guiding person or party might be gained over, and
through him or them the whole body of a nation. For the hope of such a
conversion, and of deriving advantage from enemies, it might be politic
for a while to throw your friends into the shade. But examples drawn
from history in occasions like the present will be found dangerously to
mislead us. France has no resemblance to other countries which have
undergone troubles and been purified by them. If France, Jacobinized as
it has been for four full years, did contain any bodies of authority and
disposition to treat with you, (most assuredly she does not,) such is
the levity of those who have expelled everything respectable in their
country, such their ferocity, their arrogance, their mutinous spirit,
their habits of defying everything human and divine, that no engagement
would hold with them for three months; nor, indeed, could they cohere
together for any purpose of civilized society, if left as they now are.
There must be a means, not only of breaking their strength within
themselves, but of _civilizing_ them; and these two things must go
together, before we can possibly treat with them, not only as a nation,
but with any division of them. Descriptions of men of their own race,
but better in rank, superior in property and decorum, of honorable,
decent, and orderly habits, are absolutely necessary to bring them to
such a frame as to qualify them so much as to come into contact with a
civilized nation. A set of those ferocious savages with arms in their
hands, left to themselves in one part of the country whilst you proceed
to another, would break forth into outrages at least as bad as their
former. They must, as fast as gained, (if ever they are gained,) be put
under the guide, direction, and government of better Frenchmen than
themselves, or they will instantly relapse into a fever of aggravated
Jacobinism.

We must not judge of other parts of France by the temporary submission
of Toulon, with two vast fleets in its harbor, and a garrison far more
numerous than all the inhabitants able to bear arms. If they were left
to themselves, I am quite sure they would not retain their attachment to
monarchy of any name for a single week.

To administer the only cure for the unheard-of disorders of that undone
country, I think it infinitely happy for us that God has given into our
hands more effectual remedies than human contrivance could point out. We
have in our bosom, and in the bosom of other civilized states, nearer
forty than thirty thousand persons, providentially preserved, not only
from the cruelty and violence, but from the contagion of the horrid
practices, sentiments, and language of the Jacobins, and even sacredly
guarded from the view of such abominable scenes. If we should obtain, in
any considerable district, a footing in France, we possess an immense
body of physicians and magistrates of the mind, whom we now know to be
the most discreet, gentle, well-tempered, conciliatory, virtuous, and
pious persons who in any order probably existed in the world. You will
have a missioner of peace and order in every parish. Never was a wiser
national economy than in the charity of the English and of other
countries. Never was money better expended than in the maintenance of
this body of civil troops for reëstablishing order in France, and for
thus securing its civilization to Europe. This means, if properly used,
is of value inestimable.

Nor is this corps of instruments of civilization confined to the first
order of that state,--I mean the clergy. The allied powers possess also
an exceedingly numerous, well-informed, sensible, ingenious,
high-principled, and spirited body of cavaliers in the expatriated
landed interest of France, as well qualified, at least, as I (who have
been taught by time and experience to moderate my calculation of the
expectancy of human abilities) ever expected to see in the body of any
landed gentlemen and soldiers by their birth. France is well winnowed
and sifted. Its virtuous men are, I believe, amongst the most virtuous,
as its wicked are amongst the most abandoned upon earth. Whatever in the
territory of France may be found to be in the middle between these must
be attracted to the better part. This will be compassed, when every
gentleman, everywhere being restored to his landed estate, each on his
patrimonial ground, may join the clergy in reanimating the loyalty,
fidelity, and religion of the people,--that these gentlemen proprietors
of land may sort that people according to the trust they severally
merit, that they may arm the honest and well-affected, and disarm and
disable the factious and ill-disposed. No foreigner can make this
discrimination nor these arrangements. The ancient corporations of
burghers according to their several modes should be restored, and placed
(as they ought to be) in the hands of men of gravity and property in the
cities or bailliages, according to the proper constitutions of the
commons or third estate of France. They will restrain and regulate the
seditious rabble there, as the gentlemen will on their own estates. In
this way, and _in this way alone_, the country (once broken in upon by
foreign force well directed) may be gained and settled. It must be
gained and settled by _itself_, and through the medium of its _own_
native dignity and property. It is not honest, it is not decent, still
less is it politic, for foreign powers themselves to attempt anything in
this minute, internal, local detail, in which they could show nothing
but ignorance, imbecility, confusion, and oppression. As to the prince
who has a just claim to exercise the regency of France, like other men
he is not without his faults and his defects. But faults or defects
(always supposing them faults of common human infirmity) are not what in
any country destroy a legal title to government. These princes are kept
in a poor, obscure, country town of the king of Prussia's. Their
reputation is entirely at the mercy of every calumniator. They cannot
show themselves, they cannot explain themselves, as princes ought to do.
After being well informed as any man here can be, I do not find that
these blemishes in this eminent person are at all considerable, or that
they at all affect a character which is full of probity, honor,
generosity, and real goodness. In some points he has but too much
resemblance to his unfortunate brother, who, with all his weaknesses,
had a good understanding, and many parts of an excellent man and a good
king. But Monsieur, without supposing the other deficient, (as he was
not,) excels him in general knowledge, and in a sharp and keen
observation, with something of a better address, and an happier mode of
speaking and of writing. His conversation is open, agreeable, and
informed; his manners gracious and princely. His brother, the Comte
d'Artois, sustains still better the representation of his place. He is
eloquent, lively, engaging in the highest degree, of a decided
character, full of energy and activity. In a word, he is a brave,
honorable, and accomplished cavalier. Their brethren of royalty, if they
were true to their own cause and interest, instead of relegating these
illustrious persons to an obscure town, would bring them forward in
their courts and camps, and exhibit them to (what they would speedily
obtain) the esteem, respect, and affection of mankind.

[Sidenote: Objection made to the regent's endeavor to go to Spain.]

As to their knocking at every door, (which seems to give offence,) can
anything be more natural? Abandoned, despised, rendered in a manner
outlaws by all the powers of Europe, who have treated their unfortunate
brethren with all the giddy pride and improvident insolence of blind,
unfeeling prosperity, who did not even send them a compliment of
condolence on the murder of their brother and sister, in such a state is
it to be wondered at, or blamed, that they tried every way, likely or
unlikely, well or ill chosen, to get out of the horrible pit into which
they are fallen, and that in particular they tried whether the princes
of their own blood might at length be brought to think the cause of
kings, and of kings of their race, wounded in the murder and exile of
the branch of France, of as much importance as the killing of a brace of
partridges? If they were absolutely idle, and only eat in sloth their
bread of sorrow and dependence, they would be forgotten, or at best
thought of as wretches unworthy of their pretensions, which they had
done nothing to support. If they err from _our_ interests, what care has
been taken to keep them in those interests? or what desire has ever
been shown to employ them in any other way than as instruments of their
own degradation, shame, and ruin?

The Parliament of Paris, by whom the title of the regent is to be
recognized, (not made,) according to the laws of the kingdom, is ready
to recognize it, and to register it, if a place of meeting was given to
them, which might be within their own jurisdiction, supposing that only
locality was required for the exercise of their functions: for it is one
of the advantages of monarchy to have no local seat. It may maintain its
rights out of the sphere of its territorial jurisdiction, if other
powers will suffer it.

I am well apprised that the little intriguers, and whisperers, and
self-conceited, thoughtless babblers, worse than either, run about to
depreciate the fallen virtue of a great nation. But whilst they talk, we
must make our choice,--they or the Jacobins. We have no other option. As
to those who in the pride of a prosperity not obtained by their wisdom,
valor, or industry, think so well of themselves, and of their own
abilities and virtues, and so ill of other men, truth obliges me to say
that they are not founded in their presumption concerning themselves,
nor in their contempt of the French princes, magistrates, nobility, and
clergy. Instead of inspiring me with dislike and distrust of the
unfortunate, engaged with us in a common cause against our Jacobin
enemy, they take away all my esteem for their own characters, and all my
deference to their judgment.

There are some few French gentlemen, indeed, who talk a language not
wholly different from this jargon. Those whom I have in my eye I respect
as gallant soldiers, as much as any one can do; but on their political
judgment and prudence I have not the slightest reliance, nor on their
knowledge of their own country, or of its laws and Constitution. They
are, if not enemies, at least not friends, to the orders of their own
state,--not to the princes, the clergy, or the nobility; they possess
only an attachment to the monarchy, or rather to the persons of the late
king and queen. In all other respects their conversation is Jacobin. I
am afraid they, or some of them, go into the closets of ministers, and
tell them that the affairs of France will be better arranged by the
allied powers than by the landed proprietors of the kingdom, or by the
princes who have a right to govern; and that, if any French are at all
to be employed in the settlement of their country, it ought to be only
those who have never declared any decided opinion, or taken any active
part in the Revolution.[35]

I suspect that the authors of this opinion are mere soldiers of fortune,
who, though men of integrity and honor, would as gladly receive military
rank from Russia, or Austria, or Prussia, as from the regent of France.
Perhaps their not having as much importance at his court as they could
wish may incline them to this strange imagination. Perhaps, having no
property in old France, they are more indifferent about its restoration.
Their language is certainly flattering to all ministers in all courts.
We all are men; we all love to be told of the extent of our own power
and our own faculties. If we love glory, we are jealous of partners, and
afraid even of our own instruments. It is of all modes of flattery the
most effectual, to be told that you can regulate the affairs of another
kingdom better than its hereditary proprietors. It is formed to flatter
the principle of conquest so natural to all men. It is this principle
which is now making the partition of Poland. The powers concerned have
been told by some perfidious Poles, and perhaps they believe, that their
usurpation is a great benefit to the people, especially to the common
people. However this may turn out with regard to Poland, I am quite sure
that France could not be so well under a foreign direction as under that
of the representatives of its own king and its own ancient estates.

I think I have myself studied France as much as most of those whom the
allied courts are likely to employ in such a work. I have likewise of
myself as partial and as vain an opinion as men commonly have of
themselves. But if I could command the whole military arm of Europe, I
am sure that a bribe of the best province in that kingdom would not
tempt me to intermeddle in their affairs, except in perfect concurrence
and concert with the natural, legal interests of the country, composed
of the ecclesiastical, the military, the several corporate bodies of
justice and of burghership, making under a monarch (I repeat it again
and again) _the French nation according to its fundamental
Constitution_. No considerate statesman would undertake to meddle with
it upon any other condition.

The government of that kingdom is fundamentally monarchical. The public
law of Europe has never recognized in it any other form of government.
The potentates of Europe have, by that law, a right, an interest, and a
duty to know with what government they are to treat, and what they are
to admit into the federative society,--or, in other words, into the
diplomatic republic of Europe. This right is clear and indisputable.

What other and further interference they have a right to in the interior
of the concerns of another people is a matter on which, as on every
political subject, no very definite or positive rule can well be laid
down. Our neighbors are men; and who will attempt to dictate the laws
under which it is allowable or forbidden to take a part in the concerns
of men, whether they are considered individually or in a collective
capacity, whenever charity to them, or a care of my own safety, calls
forth my activity? Circumstances perpetually variable, directing a moral
prudence and discretion, the _general_ principles of which never vary,
must alone prescribe a conduct fitting on such occasions. The latest
casuists of public law are rather of a republican cast, and, in my mind,
by no means so averse as they ought to be to a right in the people (a
word which, ill defined, is of the most dangerous use) to make changes
at their pleasure in the fundamental laws of their country. These
writers, however, when a country is divided, leave abundant liberty for
a neighbor to support any of the parties according to his choice.[36]
This interference must, indeed, always be a right, whilst the privilege
of doing good to others, and of averting from them every sort of evil,
is a right: circumstances may render that right a duty. It depends
wholly on this, whether it be a _bonâ fide_ charity to a party, and a
prudent precaution with regard to yourself, or whether, under the
pretence of aiding one of the parties in a nation, you act in such a
manner as to aggravate its calamities and accomplish its final
destruction. In truth, it is not the interfering or keeping aloof, but
iniquitous intermeddling, or treacherous inaction, which is praised or
blamed by the decision of an equitable judge.

It will be a just and irresistible presumption against the fairness of
the interposing power, that he takes with him no party or description of
men in the divided state. It is not probable that these parties should
all, and all alike, be more adverse to the true interests of their
country, and less capable of forming a judgment upon them, than those
who are absolute strangers to their affairs, and to the character of the
actors in them, and have but a remote, feeble, and secondary sympathy
with their interest. Sometimes a calm and healing arbiter may be
necessary; but he is to compose differences, not to give laws. It is
impossible that any one should not feel the full force of that
presumption. Even people, whose politics for the supposed good of their
own country lead them to take advantage of the dissensions of a
neighboring nation in order to ruin it, will not directly propose to
exclude the natives, but they will take that mode of consulting and
employing them which most nearly approaches to an exclusion. In some
particulars they propose what amounts to that exclusion, in others they
do much worse. They recommend to ministry, "that no Frenchman who has
given a decided opinion or acted a decided part in this great
Revolution, for or against it, should be countenanced, brought forward,
trusted, or employed, even in the strictest subordination to the
ministers of the allied powers." Although one would think that this
advice would stand condemned on the first proposition, yet, as it has
been made popular, and has been proceeded upon practically, I think it
right to give it a full consideration.

And first, I have asked myself who these Frenchmen are, that, in the
state their own country has been in for these last five years, of all
the people of Europe, have alone not been able to form a decided
opinion, or have been unwilling to act a decided part?

Looking over all the names I have heard of in this great revolution in
all human affairs, I find no man of any distinction who has remained in
that more than Stoical apathy, but the Prince de Conti. This mean,
stupid, selfish, swinish, and cowardly animal, universally known and
despised as such, has indeed, except in one abortive attempt to elope,
been perfectly neutral. However, his neutrality, which it seems would
qualify him for trust, and on a competition must set aside the Prince de
Condé, can be of no sort of service. His moderation has not been able to
keep him from a jail. The allied powers must draw him from that jail,
before they can have the full advantage of the exertions of this great
neutralist.

Except him, I do not recollect a man of rank or talents, who by his
speeches or his votes, by his pen or by his sword, has not been active
on this scene. The time, indeed, could admit no neutrality in any person
worthy of the name of man. There were originally two great divisions in
France: the one is that which overturned the whole of the government in
Church and State, and erected a republic on the basis of atheism. Their
grand engine was the Jacobin Club, a sort of secession from which, but
exactly on the same principles, begat another short-lived one, called
the Club of Eighty-Nine,[37] which was chiefly guided by the court
rebels, who, in addition to the crimes of which they were guilty in
common with the others, had the merit of betraying a gracious master and
a kind benefactor. Subdivisions of this faction, which since we have
seen, do not in the least differ from each other in their principles,
their dispositions, or the means they have employed. Their only quarrel
has been about power: in that quarrel, like wave succeeding wave, one
faction has got the better and expelled the other. Thus, La Fayette for
a while got the better of Orléans; and Orléans afterwards prevailed over
La Fayette. Brissot overpowered Orléans; Barère and Robespierre, and
their faction, mastered them both, and cut off their heads. All who were
not Royalists have been listed in some or other of these divisions. If
it were of any use to settle a precedence, the elder ought to have his
rank. The first authors, plotters, and contrivers of this monstrous
scheme seem to me entitled to the first place in our distrust and
abhorrence. I have seen some of those who are thought the best amongst
the original rebels, and I have not neglected the means of being
informed concerning the others. I can very truly say, that I have not
found, by observation, or inquiry, that any sense of the evils produced
by their projects has produced in them, or any _one_ of them, the
smallest degree of repentance. Disappointment and mortification
undoubtedly they feel; but to them repentance is a thing impossible.
They are atheists. This wretched opinion, by which they are possessed
even to the height of fanaticism, leading them to exclude from their
ideas of a commonwealth the vital principle of the physical, the moral,
and the political world engages them in a thousand absurd contrivances
to fill up this dreadful void. Incapable of innoxious repose or
honorable action or wise speculation in the lurking-holes of a foreign
land, into which (in a common ruin) they are driven to hide their heads
amongst the innocent victims of their madness, they are at this very
hour as busy in the confection of the dirt-pies of their imaginary
constitutions as if they had not been quite fresh from destroying, by
their impious and desperate vagaries, the finest country upon earth.

It is, however, out of these, or of such as these, guilty and
impenitent, despising the experience of others, and their own, that some
people talk of choosing their negotiators with those Jacobins who they
suppose may be recovered to a sounder mind. They flatter themselves, it
seems, that the friendly habits formed during their original partnership
of iniquity, a similarity of character, and a conformity in the
groundwork of their principles, might facilitate their conversion, and
gain them over to some recognition of royalty. But surely this is to
read human nature very ill. The several sectaries in this schism of the
Jacobins are the very last men in the world to trust each other.
Fellowship in treason is a bad ground of confidence. The last quarrels
are the sorest; and the injuries received or offered by your own
associates are ever the most bitterly resented. The people of France, of
every name and description, would a thousand times sooner listen to the
Prince de Condé, or to the Archbishop of Aix, or the Bishop of St. Pol,
or to Monsieur de Cazalès, then to La Fayette, or Dumouriez, or the
Vicomte de Noailles, or the Bishop of Autun, or Necker, or his disciple
Lally Tollendal. Against the first description they have not the
smallest animosity, beyond that of a merely political dissension. The
others they regard as traitors.

The first description is that of the Christian Royalists, men who as
earnestly wished for reformation, as they opposed innovation in the
fundamental parts of their Church and State. _Their_ part has been _very
decided_. Accordingly, they are to be set aside in the restoration of
Church and State. It is an odd kind of disqualification, where the
restoration of religion and monarchy is the question. If England should
(God forbid it should!) fall into the same misfortune with France, and
that the court of Vienna should undertake the restoration of our
monarchy, I think it would be extraordinary to object to the admission
of Mr. Pitt or Lord Grenville or Mr. Dundas into any share in the
management of that business, because in a day of trial they have stood
up firmly and manfully, as I trust they always will do, and with
distinguished powers, for the monarchy and the legitimate Constitution
of their country. I am sure, if I were to suppose myself at Vienna at
such a time, I should, as a man, as an Englishman, and as a Royalist,
protest in that case, as I do in this, against a weak and ruinous
principle of proceeding, which can have no other tendency than to make
those who wish to support the crown meditate too profoundly on the
consequences of the part they take, and consider whether for their open
and forward zeal in the royal cause they may not be thrust out from any
sort of confidence and employment, where the interest of crowned heads
is concerned.

These are the _parties_. I have said, and said truly, that I know of no
neutrals. But, as a general observation on this general principle of
choosing neutrals on such occasions as the present, I have this to say,
that it amounts to neither more nor less than this shocking
proposition,--that we ought to exclude men of honor and ability from
serving theirs and our cause, and to put the dearest interests of
ourselves and our posterity into the hands of men of no decided
character, without judgment to choose and without courage to profess any
principle whatsoever.

Such men can serve no cause, for this plain reason,--they have no cause
at heart. They can, at best, work only as mere mercenaries. They have
not been guilty of great crimes; but it is only because they have not
energy of mind to rise to any height of wickedness. They are not hawks
or kites: they are only miserable fowls whose flight is not above their
dunghill or hen-roost. But they tremble before the authors of these
horrors. They admire them at a safe and respectful distance. There never
was a mean and abject mind that did not admire an intrepid and dexterous
villain. In the bottom of their hearts they believe such hardy
miscreants to be the only men qualified for great affairs. If you set
them to transact with such persons, they are instantly subdued. They
dare not so much as look their antagonist in the face. They are made to
be their subjects, not to be their arbiters or controllers.

These men, to be sure, can look at atrocious acts without indignation,
and can behold suffering virtue without sympathy. Therefore they are
considered as sober, dispassionate men. But they have their passions,
though of another kind, and which are infinitely more likely to carry
them out of the path of their duty. They are of a tame, timid, languid,
inert temper, wherever the welfare of _others_ is concerned. In such
causes, as they have no motives to action, they never possess any real
ability, and are totally destitute of all resource.

Believe a man who has seen much and observed something. I have seen, in
the course of my life, a great many of that family of men. They are
generally chosen because they have no opinion of their own; and as far
as they can be got in good earnest to embrace any opinion, it is that of
whoever happens to employ them, (neither longer nor shorter, narrower
nor broader,) with whom they have no discussion or consultation. The
only thing which occurs to such a man, when he has got a business for
others into his hands, is, how to make his own fortune out of it. The
person he is to treat with is not, with him, an adversary over whom he
is to prevail, but a new friend he is to gain; therefore he always
systematically betrays some part of his trust. Instead of thinking how
he shall defend his ground to the last, and, if forced to retreat, how
little he shall give up, this kind of man considers how much of the
interest of his employer he is to sacrifice to his adversary. Having
nothing but himself in view, he knows, that, in serving his principal
with zeal, he must probably incur some resentment from the opposite
party. His object is, to obtain the good-will of the person with whom he
contends, that, when an agreement is made, he may join in rewarding him.
I would not take one of these as my arbitrator in a dispute for so much
as a fish-pond; for, if he reserved the mud to me, he would be sure to
give the water that fed the pool to my adversary. In a great cause, I
should certainly wish that my agent should possess conciliating
qualities: that he should be of a frank, open, and candid disposition,
soft in his nature, and of a temper to soften animosities and to win
confidence. He ought not to be a man odious to the person he treats
with, by personal injury, by violence, or by deceit, or, above all, by
the dereliction of his cause in any former transactions. But I would be
sure that my negotiator should be _mine_,--that he should be as earnest
in the cause as myself, and known to be so,--that he should not be
looked upon as a stipendiary advocate, but as a principled partisan. In
all treaty it is a great point that all idea of gaining your agent is
hopeless. I would not trust the cause of royalty with a man who,
professing neutrality, is half a republican. The enemy has already a
great part of his suit without a struggle,--and he contends with
advantage for all the rest. The common principle allowed between your
adversary and your agent gives your adversary the advantage in every
discussion.

Before I shut up this discourse about neutral agency, (which I conceive
is not to be found, or, if found, ought not to be used,) I have a few
other remarks to make on the cause which I conceive gives rise to it.

In all that we do, whether in the struggle or after it, it is necessary
that we should constantly have in our eye the nature and character of
the enemy we have to contend with. The Jacobin Revolution is carried on
by men of no rank, of no consideration, of wild, savage minds, full of
levity, arrogance, and presumption, without morals, without probity,
without prudence. What have they, then, to supply their innumerable
defects, and to make them terrible even to the firmest minds? _One_
thing, and _one_ thing only,--but that one thing is worth a
thousand;--they have _energy_. In France, all things being put into an
universal ferment, in the decomposition of society, no man comes forward
but by his spirit of enterprise and the vigor of his mind. If we meet
this dreadful and portentous energy, restrained by no consideration of
God or man, that is always vigilant, always on the attack, that allows
itself no repose, and suffers none to rest an hour with impunity,--if we
meet this energy with poor commonplace proceeding, with trivial maxims,
paltry old saws, with doubts, fears, and suspicions, with a languid,
uncertain hesitation, with a formal, official spirit, which is turned
aside by every obstacle from its purpose, and which never sees a
difficulty but to yield to it, or at best to evade it,--down we go to
the bottom of the abyss, and nothing short of Omnipotence can save us.
We must meet a vicious and distempered energy with a manly and rational
vigor. As virtue is limited in its resources, we are doubly bound to use
all that in the circle drawn about us by our morals we are able to
command.

I do not contend against the advantages of distrust. In the world we
live in it is but too necessary. Some of old called it the very sinews
of discretion. But what signify commonplaces that always run parallel
and equal? Distrust is good, or it is bad, according to our position and
our purpose. Distrust is a defensive principle. They who have much to
lose have much to fear. But in France we hold nothing. We are to break
in upon a power in possession; we are to carry everything by storm, or
by surprise, or by intelligence, or by all. Adventure, therefore, and
not caution, is our policy. Here to be too presuming is the better
error.

The world will judge of the spirit of our proceeding in those places of
France which may fall into our power by our conduct in those that are
already in our hands. Our wisdom should not be vulgar. Other times,
perhaps other measures; but in this awful hour our politics ought to be
made up of nothing but courage, decision, manliness, and rectitude. We
should have all the magnanimity of good faith. This is a royal and
commanding policy; and as long as we are true to it, we may give the
law. Never can we assume this command, if we will not risk the
consequences. For which reason we ought to be bottomed enough in
principle not to be carried away upon the first prospect of any sinister
advantage. For depend upon it, that, if we once give way to a sinister
dealing, we shall teach others the game, and we shall be outwitted and
overborne; the Spaniards, the Prussians, God knows who, will put us
under contribution at their pleasure; and instead of being at the head
of a great confederacy, and the arbiters of Europe, we shall, by our
mistakes, break up a great design into a thousand little selfish
quarrels, the enemy will triumph, and we shall sit down under the terms
of unsafe and dependent peace, weakened, mortified, and disgraced,
whilst all Europe, England included, is left open and defenceless on
every part, to Jacobin principles, intrigues, and arms. In the case of
the king of France, declared to be our friend and ally, we will still be
considering ourselves in the contradictory character of an enemy. This
contradiction, I am afraid, will, in spite of us, give a color of fraud
to all our transactions, or at least will so complicate our politics
that we shall ourselves be inextricably entangled in them.

I have Toulon in my eye. It was with infinite sorrow I heard, that, in
taking the king of France's fleet in trust, we instantly unrigged and
dismasted the ships, instead of keeping them in a condition to escape in
case of disaster, and in order to fulfil our trust,--that is, to hold
them for the use of the owner, and in the mean time to employ them for
our common service. These ships are now so circumstanced, that, if we
are forced to evacuate Toulon, they must fall into the hands of the
enemy or be burnt by ourselves. I know this is by some considered as a
fine thing for us. But the Athenians ought not to be better than the
English, or Mr. Pitt less virtuous than Aristides.

Are we, then, so poor in resources that we can do no better with
eighteen or twenty ships of the line than to burn them? Had we sent for
French Royalist naval officers, of which some hundreds are to be had,
and made them select such seamen as they could trust, and filled the
rest with our own and Mediterranean seamen, which are all over Italy to
be had by thousands, and put them under judicious English
commanders-in-chief, and with a judicious mixture of our own
subordinates, the West Indies would at this day have been ours. It may
be said that these French officers would take them for the king of
France, and that they would not be in our power. Be it so. The islands
would not be ours, but they would not be Jacobinized. This is, however,
a thing impossible. They must in effect and substance be ours. But all
is upon that false principle of distrust, which, not confiding in
strength, can never have the full use of it. They that pay, and feed,
and equip, must direct. But I must speak plain upon this subject. The
French islands, if they were all our own, ought not to be all kept. A
fair partition only ought to be made of those territories. This is a
subject of policy very serious, which has many relations and aspects.
Just here I only hint at it as answering an objection, whilst I state
the mischievous consequences which suffer us to be surprised into a
virtual breach of faith by confounding our ally with our enemy, because
they both belong to the same geographical territory.

My clear opinion is, that Toulon ought to be made, what we set out with,
a royal French city. By the necessity of the case, it must be under the
influence, civil and military, of the allies. But the only way of
keeping that jealous and discordant mass from tearing its component
parts to pieces, and hazarding the loss of the whole, is, to put the
place into the nominal government of the regent, his officers being
approved by us. This, I say, is absolutely necessary for a poise amongst
ourselves. Otherwise is it to be believed that the Spaniards, who hold
that place with us in a sort of partnership, contrary to our mutual
interest, will see us absolute masters of the Mediterranean, with
Gibraltar on one side and Toulon on the other, with a quiet and composed
mind, whilst we do little less than declare that we are to take the
whole West Indies into our hands, leaving the vast, unwieldy, and feeble
body of the Spanish dominions in that part of the world absolutely at
our mercy, without any power to balance us in the smallest degree?
Nothing is so fatal to a nation as an extreme of self-partiality, and
the total want of consideration of what others will naturally hope or
fear. Spain must think she sees that we are taking advantage of the
confusions which reign in France to disable that country, and of course
every country, from affording her protection, and in the end to turn the
Spanish monarchy into a province. If she saw things in a proper point of
light, to be sure, she would not consider any other plan of politics as
of the least moment in comparison of the extinction of Jacobinism. But
her ministers (to say the best of them) are vulgar politicians. It is no
wonder that they should postpone this great point, or balance it by
considerations of the common politics, that is, the questions of power
between _state and state_. If we manifestly endeavor to destroy the
balance, especially the maritime and commercial balance, both in Europe
and the West Indies, (the latter their sore and vulnerable part,) from
fear of what France may do for Spain hereafter, is it to be wondered
that Spain, infinitely weaker than we are, (weaker, indeed, than such a
mass of empire ever was,) should feel the same fears from our
uncontrolled power that we give way to ourselves from a supposed
resurrection of the ancient power of France under a monarchy? It
signifies nothing whether we are wrong or right in the abstract; but in
respect to our relation to Spain, with such principles followed up in
practice, it is absolutely impossible that any cordial alliance can
subsist between the two nations. If Spain goes, Naples will speedily
follow. Prussia is quite certain, and thinks of nothing but making a
market of the present confusions. Italy is broken and divided.
Switzerland is Jacobinized, I am afraid, completely. I have long seen
with pain the progress of French principles in that country. Things
cannot go on upon the present bottom. The possession of Toulon, which,
well managed, might be of the greatest advantage, will be the greatest
misfortune that ever happened to this nation. The more we multiply
troops there, the more we shall multiply causes and means of quarrel
amongst ourselves. I know but one way of avoiding it, which is, to give
a greater degree of simplicity to our politics. Our situation does
necessarily render them a good deal involved. And to this evil, instead
of increasing it, we ought to apply all the remedies in our power.

See what is in that place the consequence (to say nothing of every
other) of this complexity. Toulon has, as it were, two gates,--an
English and a Spanish. The English gate is by our policy fast barred
against the entrance of any Royalists. The Spaniards open theirs, I
fear, upon no fixed principle, and with very little judgment. By means,
however, of this foolish, mean, and jealous policy on our side, all the
Royalists whom the English might select as most practicable, and most
subservient to honest views, are totally excluded. Of those admitted the
Spaniards are masters. As to the inhabitants, they are a nest of
Jacobins, which is delivered into our hands, not from principle, but
from fear. The inhabitants of Toulon may be described in a few words. It
is _differtum nautis, cauponibus atque malignis_. The rest of the
seaports are of the same description.

Another thing which I cannot account for is, the sending for the Bishop
of Toulon and afterwards forbidding his entrance. This is as directly
contrary to the declaration as it is to the practice of the allied
powers. The king of Prussia did better. When he took Verdun, he actually
reinstated the bishop and his chapter. When he thought he should be the
master of Chalons, he called the bishop from Flanders, to put him into
possession. The Austrians have restored the clergy wherever they
obtained possession. We have proposed to restore religion as well as
monarchy; and in Toulon we have restored neither the one nor the other.
It is very likely that the Jacobin _sans-culottes_, or some of them,
objected to this measure, who rather choose to have the atheistic
buffoons of clergy they have got to sport with, till they are ready to
come forward, with the rest of their worthy brethren, in Paris and other
places, to declare that they are a set of impostors, that they never
believed in God, and never will preach any sort of religion. If we give
way to our Jacobins in this point, it is fully and fairly putting the
government, civil and ecclesiastical, not in the king of France, to
whom, as the protector and governor, and in substance the head of the
Gallican Church, the nomination to the bishoprics belonged, and who made
the Bishop of Toulon,--it does not leave it with him, or even in the
hands of the king of England, or the king of Spain,--but in the basest
Jacobins of a low seaport, to exercise, _pro tempore_, the sovereignty.
If this point of religion is thus given up, the grand instrument for
reclaiming France is abandoned. We cannot, if we would, delude ourselves
about the true state of this dreadful contest. _It is a religious war_.
It includes in its object, undoubtedly, every other interest of society
as well as this; but this is the principal and leading feature. It is
through this destruction of religion that our enemies propose the
accomplishment of all their other views. The French Revolution, impious
at once and fanatical, had no other plan for domestic power and foreign
empire. Look at all the proceedings of the National Assembly, from the
first day of declaring itself such, in the year 1789, to this very hour,
and you will find full half of their business to be directly on this
subject. In fact, it is the spirit of the whole. The religious system,
called the Constitutional Church, was, on the face of the whole
proceeding, set up only as a mere temporary amusement to the people, and
so constantly stated in all their conversations, till the time should
come when they might with safety cast off the very appearance of all
religion whatsoever, and persecute Christianity throughout Europe with
fire and sword. The Constitutional clergy are not the ministers of any
religion: they are the agents and instruments of this horrible
conspiracy against all morals. It was from a sense of this, that, in the
English addition to the articles proposed at St. Domingo, tolerating all
religions, we very wisely refused to suffer that kind of traitors and
buffoons.

This religious war is not a controversy between sect and sect, as
formerly, but a war against all sects and all religions. The question is
not, whether you are to overturn the Catholic, to set up the Protestant.
Such an idea, in the present state of the world, is too contemptible.
Our business is, to leave to the schools the discussion of the
controverted points, abating as much as we can the acrimony of
disputants on all sides. It is for Christian statesmen, as the world is
now circumstanced, to secure their common basis, and not to risk the
subversion of the whole fabric by pursuing these distinctions with an
ill-timed zeal. We have in the present grand alliance all modes of
government, as well as all modes of religion. In government, we mean to
restore that which, notwithstanding our diversity of forms, we are all
agreed in as fundamental in government. The same principle ought to
guide us in the religious part: conforming the mode, not to our
particular ideas, (for in that point we have no ideas in common,) but to
what will best promote the great, general ends of the alliance. As
statesmen, we are to see which of those modes best suits with the
interests of such a commonwealth as we wish to secure and promote. There
can be no doubt but that the Catholic religion, which is fundamentally
the religion of France, must go with the monarchy of France. We know
that the monarchy did not survive the hierarchy, no, not even in
appearance, for many months,--in substance, not for a single hour. As
little can it exist in future, if that pillar is taken away, or even
shattered and impaired.

If it should please God to give to the allies the means of restoring
peace and order in that focus of war and confusion, I would, as I said
in the beginning of this memorial, first replace the whole of the old
clergy; because we have proof more than sufficient, that, whether they
err or not in the scholastic disputes with us, they are not tainted with
atheism, the great political evil of the time. I hope I need not
apologize for this phrase, as if I thought religion nothing but policy:
it is far from my thoughts, and I hope it is not to be inferred from my
expressions. But in the light of policy alone I am here considering the
question. I speak of policy, too, in a large light; in which large
light, policy, too, is a sacred thing.

There are many, perhaps half a million or more, calling themselves
Protestants, in the South of France, and in other of the provinces. Some
raise them to a much greater number; but I think this nearer to the
mark. I am sorry to say that they have behaved shockingly since the very
beginning of this rebellion, and have been uniformly concerned in its
worst and most atrocious acts. Their clergy are just the same atheists
with those of the Constitutional Catholics, but still more wicked and
daring. Three of their number have met from their republican associates
the reward of their crimes.

As the ancient Catholic religion is to be restored for the body of
France, the ancient Calvinistic religion ought to be restored for the
Protestants, with every kind of protection and privilege. But not one
minister concerned in this rebellion ought to be suffered amongst them.
If they have not clergy of their own, men well recommended, as untainted
with Jacobinism, by the synods of those places where Calvinism prevails
and French is spoken, ought to be sought. Many such there are. The
Presbyterian discipline ought, in my opinion, to be established in its
vigor, and the people professing it ought to be bound to its
maintenance. No man, under the false and hypocritical pretence of
liberty of conscience, ought to be suffered to have no conscience at
all. The king's commissioner ought also to sit in their synods, as
before the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. I am conscious that this
discipline disposes men to republicanism: but it is still a discipline,
and it is a cure (such as it is) for the perverse and undisciplined
habits which for some time have prevailed. Republicanism repressed may
have its use in the composition of a state. Inspection may be
practicable, and responsibility in the teachers and elders may be
established, in such an hierarchy as the Presbyterian. For a time like
ours, it is a great point gained, that people should be taught to meet,
to combine, and to be classed and arrayed in some other way than in
clubs of Jacobins. If it be not the best mode of Protestantism under a
monarchy, it is still an orderly Christian church, orthodox in the
fundamentals, and, what is to our point, capable enough of rendering men
useful citizens. It was the impolitic abolition of their discipline,
which exposed them to the wild opinions and conduct that have prevailed
amongst the Huguenots. The toleration in 1787 was owing to the good
disposition of the late king; but it was modified by the profligate
folly of his atheistic minister, the Cardinal de Loménie. This
mischievous minister did not follow, in the edict of toleration, the
wisdom of the Edict of Nantes. But his toleration was granted to
_non-Catholics_,--a dangerous word, which might signify anything, and
was but too expressive of a fatal indifference with regard to all piety.
I speak for myself: I do not wish any man to be converted from his sect.
The distinctions which we have reformed from animosity to emulation may
be even useful to the cause of religion. By some moderate contention
they keep alive zeal. Whereas people who change, except under strong
conviction, (a thing now rather rare,) the religion of their early
prejudices, especially if the conversion is brought about by any
political machine, are very apt to degenerate into indifference, laxity,
and often downright atheism.

Another political question arises about the mode of government which
ought to be established. I think the proclamation (which I read before I
had proceeded far in this memorial) puts it on the best footing, by
postponing that arrangement to a time of peace.

When our politics lead us to enterprise a great and almost total
political revolution in Europe, we ought to look seriously into the
consequences of what we are about to do. Some eminent persons discover
an apprehension that the monarchy, if restored in France, may be
restored in too great strength for the liberty and happiness of the
natives, and for the tranquillity of other states. They are therefore of
opinion that terms ought to be made for the modification of that
monarchy. They are persons too considerable, from the powers of their
mind, and from their situation, as well as from the real respect I have
for them, who seem to entertain these apprehensions, to let me pass them
by unnoticed.

As to the power of France as a state, and in its exterior relations, I
confess my fears are on the part of its extreme reduction. There is
undoubtedly something in the vicinity of France, which makes it
naturally and properly an object of our watchfulness and jealousy,
whatever form its government may take. But the difference is great
between a plan for our own security and a scheme for the utter
destruction of France. If there were no other countries in the political
map but these two, I admit that policy might justify a wish to lower our
neighbor to a standard which would even render her in some measure, if
not wholly, our dependant. But the system of Europe is extensive and
extremely complex. However formidable to us, as taken in this one
relation, France is not equally dreadful to all other states. On the
contrary, my clear opinion is, that the liberties of Europe cannot
possibly be preserved but by her remaining a very great and
preponderating power. The design at present evidently pursued by the
combined potentates, or of the two who lead, is totally to destroy her
as such a power. For Great Britain resolves that she shall have no
colonies, no commerce, and no marine. Austria means to take away the
whole frontier, from the borders of Switzerland to Dunkirk. It is their
plan also to render the interior government lax and feeble, by
prescribing, by force of the arms of rival and jealous nations, and
without consulting the natural interests of the kingdom, such
arrangements as, in the actual state of Jacobinism in France, and the
unsettled state in which property must remain for a long time, will
inevitably produce such distraction and debility in government as to
reduce it to nothing, or to throw it back into its old confusion. One
cannot conceive so frightful a state of a nation. A maritime country
without a marine and without commerce; a continental country without a
frontier, and for a thousand miles surrounded with powerful, warlike,
and ambitious neighbors! It is possible that she might submit to lose
her commerce and her colonies: her security she never can abandon. If,
contrary to all expectations, under such a disgraced and impotent
government, any energy should remain in that country, she will make
every effort to recover her security, which will involve Europe for a
century in war and blood. What has it cost to France to make that
frontier? What will it cost to recover it? Austria thinks that without a
frontier she cannot secure the _Netherlands_. But without her frontier
France cannot secure _herself_. Austria has been, however, secure for an
hundred years in those very Netherlands, and has never been dispossessed
of them by the chance of war without a moral certainty of receiving them
again on the restoration of peace. Her late dangers have arisen not from
the power or ambition of the king of France. They arose from her own ill
policy, which dismantled all her towns, and discontented all her
subjects by Jacobinical innovations. She dismantles her own towns, and
then says, "Give me the frontier of France!" But let us depend upon it,
whatever tends, under the name of security, to aggrandize Austria, will
discontent and alarm Prussia. Such a length of frontier on the side of
France, separated from itself, and separated from the mass of the
Austrian country, will be weak, unless connected at the expense of the
Elector of Bavaria (the Elector Palatine) and other lesser princes, or
by such exchanges as will again convulse the Empire.

Take it the other way, and let us suppose that France so broken in
spirit as to be content to remain naked and defenceless by sea and by
land. Is such a country no prey? Have other nations no views? Is Poland
the only country of which it is worth while to make a partition? We
cannot be so childish as to imagine that ambition is local, and that no
others can be infected with it but those who rule within certain
parallels of latitude and longitude. In this way I hold war equally
certain. But I can conceive that both these principles may operate:
ambition on the part of Austria to cut more and more from France; and
French impatience under her degraded and unsafe condition. In such a
contest will the other powers stand by? Will not Prussia call for
indemnity, as well as Austria and England? Is she satisfied with her
gains in Poland? By no means. Germany must pay; or we shall infallibly
see Prussia leagued with France and Spain, and possibly with other
powers, for the reduction of Austria; and such may be the situation of
things, that it will not be so easy to decide what part England may take
in such a contest.

I am well aware how invidious a task it is to oppose anything which
tends to the apparent aggrandizement of our own country. But I think no
country can be aggrandized whilst France is Jacobinized. This post
removed, it will be a serious question how far her further reduction
will contribute to the general safety, which I always consider as
included. Among precautions against ambition, it may not be amiss to
take one precaution against our _own_. I must fairly say, I dread our
_own_ power and our _own_ ambition; I dread our being too much dreaded.
It is ridiculous to say we are not men, and that, as men, we shall never
wish to aggrandize ourselves in some way or other. Can we say that even
at this very hour we are not invidiously aggrandized? We are already in
possession of almost all the commerce of the world. Our empire in India
is an awful thing. If we should come to be in a condition not only to
have all this ascendant in commerce, but to be absolutely able, without
the least control, to hold the commerce of all other nations totally
dependent upon our good pleasure, we may say that we shall not abuse
this astonishing and hitherto unheard-of power. But every other nation
will think we shall abuse it. It is impossible but that, sooner or
later, this state of things must produce a combination against us which
may end in our ruin.

As to France, I must observe that for a long time she has been
stationary. She has, during this whole century, obtained far less by
conquest or negotiation than any of the three great Continental powers.
Some part of Lorraine excepted, I recollect nothing she has gained,--no,
not a village. In truth, this Lorraine acquisition does little more than
secure her barrier. In effect and substance it was her own before.

However that may be, I consider these things at present chiefly in one
point of view, as obstructions to the war on Jacobinism, which _must_
stand as long as the powers think its extirpation but a _secondary_
object, and think of taking advantage, under the name of _indemnity_ and
_security_, to make war upon the whole nation of France, royal and
Jacobin, for the aggrandizement of the allies, on the ordinary
principles of interest, as if no Jacobinism existed in the world.

So far is France from being formidable to its neighbors for its domestic
strength, that I conceive it will be as much as all its neighbors can
do, by a steady guaranty, to keep that monarchy at all upon its basis.
It will be their business to nurse France, not to exhaust it. France,
such as it is, is indeed highly formidable: not formidable, however, as
a great republic; but as the most dreadful gang of robbers and murderers
that ever was embodied. But this distempered strength of France will be
the cause of proportionable weakness on its recovery. Never was a
country so completely ruined; and they who calculate the resurrection of
her power by former examples have not sufficiently considered what is
the present state of things. Without detailing the inventory of what
organs of government have been destroyed, together with the very
materials of which alone they can be recomposed, I wish it to be
considered what an operose affair the whole system of taxation is in the
old states of Europe. It is such as never could be made but in a long
course of years. In France all taxes are abolished. The present powers
resort to the capital, and to the capital in kind. But a savage,
undisciplined people suffer a _robbery_ with more patience than an
_impost_. The former is in their habits and their dispositions. They
consider it as transient, and as what, in their turn, they may exercise.
But the terrors of the present power are such as no regular government
can possibly employ. They who enter into France do not succeed to
_their_ resources. They have not a system to reform, but a system to
begin. The whole estate of government is to be reacquired.

What difficulties this will meet with in a country exhausted by the
taking of the capital, and among a people in a manner new-principled,
trained, and actually disciplined to anarchy, rebellion, disorder, and
impiety, may be conceived by those who know what Jacobin France is, and
who may have occupied themselves by revolving in their thoughts what
they were to do, if it fell to their lot to reëstablish the affairs of
France. What support or what limitations the restored monarchy must have
may be a doubt, or how it will pitch and settle at last. But one thing I
conceive to be far beyond a doubt: that the settlement cannot be
immediate; but that it must be preceded by some sort of power, equal at
least in vigor, vigilance, promptitude, and decision, to a military
government. For such a _preparatory_ government, no slow-paced,
methodical, formal, lawyer-like system, still less that of a showy,
superficial, trifling, intriguing court, guided by cabals of ladies, or
of men like ladies, least of all a philosophic, theoretic, disputatious
school of sophistry,--none of these ever will or ever can lay the
foundations of an order that can last. Whoever claims a right by birth
to govern there must find in his breast, or must conjure up in it, an
energy not to be expected, perhaps not always to be wished for, in
well-ordered states. The lawful prince must have, in everything but
crime, the character of an usurper. He is gone, if he imagines himself
the quiet possessor of a throne. He is to contend for it as much after
an apparent conquest as before. His task is, to win it: he must leave
posterity to enjoy and to adorn it. No velvet cushions for him. He is to
be always (I speak nearly to the letter) on horseback. This opinion is
the result of much patient thinking on the subject, which I conceive no
event is likely to alter.

A valuable friend of mine, who I hope will conduct these affairs, so far
as they fall to his share, with great ability, asked me what I thought
of acts of general indemnity and oblivion, as a means of settling
France, and reconciling it to monarchy. Before I venture upon any
opinion of my own in this matter, I totally disclaim the interference of
foreign powers in a business that properly belongs to the government
which we have declared legal. That government is likely to be the best
judge of what is to be done towards the security of that kingdom, which
it is their duty and their interest to provide for by such measures of
justice or of lenity as at the time they should find best. But if we
weaken it not only by arbitrary limitations of our own, but preserve
such persons in it as are disposed to disturb its future peace, as they
have its past, I do not know how a more direct declaration can be made
of a disposition to perpetual hostility against a government. The
persons saved from the justice of the native magistrate by foreign
authority will owe nothing to his clemency. He will, and must, look to
those to whom he is indebted for the power he has of dispensing it. A
Jacobin faction, constantly fostered with the nourishment of foreign
protection, will be kept alive.

This desire of securing the safety of the actors in the present scene is
owing to more laudable motives. Ministers have been made to consider the
brothers of the late merciful king, and the nobility of France who have
been faithful to their honor and duty, as a set of inexorable and
remorseless tyrants. How this notion has been infused into them I cannot
be quite certain. I am sure it is not justified by anything they have
done. Never were the two princes guilty, in the day of their power, of a
single hard or ill-natured act. No one instance of cruelty on the part
of the gentlemen ever came to my ears. It is true that the _English_
Jacobins, (the natives have not thought of it,) as an excuse for their
infernal system of murder, have so represented them. It is on this
principle that the massacres in the month of September, 1792, were
justified by a writer in the Morning Chronicle. _He_ says, indeed, that
"the whole French nation is to be given up to the hands of an irritated
and revengeful noblesse";--and, judging of others by himself and his
brethren, he says, "Whoever succeeds in a civil war will be cruel. But
here the emigrants, flying to revenge in the cars of military victory,
will almost insatiably call for their victims and their booty; and a
body of emigrant traitors were attending the King of Prussia and the
Duke of Brunswick, to suggest the most sanguinary counsels." So says
this wicked Jacobin; but so cannot say the King of Prussia nor the Duke
of Brunswick, who never did receive any sanguinary counsel; nor did the
king's brothers, or that great body of gentlemen who attended those
princes, commit one single cruel action, or hurt the person or property
of one individual. It would be right to quote the instance. It is like
the military luxury attributed to these unfortunate sufferers in our
common cause.

If these princes had shown a tyrannic disposition, it would be much to
be lamented. We have no others to govern France. If we screened the body
of murderers from their justice, we should only leave the innocent in
future to the mercy of men of fierce and sanguinary dispositions, of
which, in spite of all our intermeddling in their Constitution, we could
not prevent the effects. But as we have much more reason to fear their
feeble lenity than any blamable rigor, we ought, in my opinion, to leave
the matter to themselves.

If, however, I were asked to give an advice merely as such, here are my
ideas. I am not for a total indemnity, nor a general punishment. And
first, the body and mass of the people never ought to be treated as
criminal. They may become an object of more or less constant
watchfulness and suspicion, as their preservation may best require, but
they can never become an object of punishment. This is one of the few
fundamental and unalterable principles of politics.

To punish them capitally would be to make massacres. Massacres only
increase the ferocity of men, and teach them to regard their own lives
and those of others as of little value; whereas the great policy of
government is, to teach the people to think both of great importance in
the eyes of God and the state, and never to be sacrificed or even
hazarded to gratify their passions, or for anything but the duties
prescribed by the rules of morality, and under the direction of public
law and public authority. To punish them with lesser penalties would be
to debilitate the commonwealth, and make the nation miserable, which it
is the business of government to render happy and flourishing.

As to crimes, too, I would draw a strong line of limitation. For no one
offence, _politically an offence of rebellion_, by council, contrivance,
persuasion, or compulsion, for none properly a _military offence of
rebellion_, or anything done by open hostility in the field, should any
man at all be called in question; because such seems to be the proper
and natural death of civil dissensions. The offences of war are
obliterated by peace.

Another class will of course be included in the indemnity,--namely, all
those who by their activity in restoring lawful government shall
obliterate their offences. The offence previously known, the acceptance
of service is a pardon for crimes. I fear that this class of men will
not be very numerous.

So far as to indemnity. But where are the objects of justice, and of
example, and of future security to the public peace? They are naturally
pointed out, not by their having outraged political and civil laws, nor
their having rebelled against the state as a state, but by their having
rebelled against the law of Nature and outraged man as man. In this
list, all the regicides in general, all those who laid sacrilegious
hands on the king, who, without anything in their own rebellious mission
to the Convention to justify them, brought him to his trial and
unanimously voted him guilty,--all those who had a share in the cruel
murder of the queen, and the detestable proceedings with regard to the
young king and the unhappy princesses,--all those who committed
cold-blooded murder anywhere, and particularly in their revolutionary
tribunals, where every idea of natural justice and of their own declared
rights of man have been trod under foot with the most insolent
mockery,--all men concerned in the burning and demolition of houses or
churches, with audacious and marked acts of sacrilege and scorn offered
to religion,--in general, all the leaders of Jacobin clubs,--not one of
these should escape a punishment suitable to the nature, quality, and
degree of their offence, by a steady, but a measured justice.

In the first place, no man ought to be subject to any penalty, from the
highest to the lowest, but by a trial according to the course of law,
carried on with all that caution and deliberation which has been used in
the best times and precedents of the French jurisprudence, the criminal
law of which country, faulty to be sure in some particulars, was highly
laudable and tender of the lives of men. In restoring order and justice,
everything like retaliation ought to be religiously avoided; and an
example ought to be set of a total alienation from the Jacobin
proceedings in their accursed revolutionary tribunals. Everything like
lumping men in masses, and of forming tables of proscription, ought to
be avoided.

In all these punishments, anything which can be alleged in mitigation of
the offence should be fully considered. Mercy is not a thing opposed to
justice. It is an essential part of it,--as necessary in criminal cases
as in civil affairs equity is to law. It is only for the Jacobins never
to pardon. They have not done it in a single instance. A council of
mercy ought therefore to be appointed, with powers to report on each
case, to soften the penalty, or entirely to remit it, according to
circumstances.

With these precautions, the very first foundation of settlement must be
to call to a strict account those bloody and merciless offenders.
Without it, government cannot stand a year. People little consider the
utter impossibility of getting those who, having emerged from very low,
some from the lowest classes of society, have exercised a power so high,
and with such unrelenting and bloody a rage, quietly to fall back into
their old ranks, and become humble, peaceable, laborious, and useful
members of society. It never can be. On the other hand, is it to be
believed that any worthy and virtuous subject, restored to the ruins of
his house, will with patience see the cold-blooded murderer of his
father, mother, wife, or children, or perhaps all of these relations,
(such things have been,) nose him in his own village, and insult him
with the riches acquired from the plunder of his goods, ready again to
head a Jacobin faction to attack his life? He is unworthy of the name of
man who would suffer it. It is unworthy of the name of a government,
which, taking justice out of the private hand, will not exercise it for
the injured by the public arm.

I know it sounds plausible, and is readily adopted by those who have
little sympathy with the sufferings of others, to wish to jumble the
innocent and guilty into one mass by a general indemnity. This cruel
indifference dignifies itself with the name of humanity.

It is extraordinary, that, as the wicked arts of this regicide and
tyrannous faction increase in number, variety, and atrocity, the desire
of punishing them becomes more and more faint, and the talk of an
indemnity towards them every day stronger and stronger. Our ideas of
justice appear to be fairly conquered and overpowered by guilt, when it
is grown gigantic. It is not the point of view in which we are in the
habit of viewing guilt. The crimes we every day punish are really below
the penalties we inflict. The criminals are obscure and feeble. This is
the view in which we see ordinary crimes and criminals. But when guilt
is seen, though but for a time, to be furnished with the arms and to be
invested with the robes of power, it seems to assume another nature, and
to get, as it were, out of our jurisdiction. This I fear is the case
with many. But there is another cause full as powerful towards this
security to enormous guilt,--the desire which possesses people who have
once obtained power to enjoy it at their ease. It is not humanity, but
laziness and inertness of mind, which produces the desire of this kind
of indemnities. This description of men love general and short methods.
If they punish, they make a promiscuous massacre; if they spare, they
make a general act of oblivion. This is a want of disposition to proceed
laboriously according to the cases, and according to the rules and
principles of justice on each case: a want of disposition to assort
criminals, to discriminate the degrees and modes of guilt, to separate
accomplices from principals, leaders from followers, seducers from the
seduced, and then, by following the same principles in the same detail,
to class punishments, and to fit them to the nature and kind of the
delinquency. If that were once attempted, we should soon see that the
task was neither infinite nor the execution cruel. There would be
deaths, but, for the number of criminals and the extent of France, not
many. There would be cases of transportation, cases of labor to restore
what has been wickedly destroyed, cases of imprisonment, and cases of
mere exile. But be this as it may, I am sure, that, if justice is not
done there, there can be neither peace nor justice there, nor in any
part of Europe.

History is resorted to for other acts of indemnity in other times. The
princes are desired to look back to Henry the Fourth. We are desired to
look to the restoration of King Charles. These things, in my opinion,
have no resemblance whatsoever. They were cases of a civil war,--in
France more ferocious, in England more moderate than common. In neither
country were the orders of society subverted, religion and morality
destroyed on principle, or property totally annihilated. In England, the
government of Cromwell was, to be sure, somewhat rigid, but, for a new
power, no savage tyranny. The country was nearly as well in his hands as
in those of Charles the Second, and in some points much better. The laws
in general had their course, and were admirably administered. The king
did not in reality grant an act of indemnity; the prevailing power, then
in a manner the nation, in effect granted an indemnity to _him_. The
idea of a preceding rebellion was not at all admitted in that
convention and that Parliament. The regicides were a common enemy, and
as such given up.

Among the ornaments of their place which eminently distinguish them, few
people are better acquainted with the history of their own country than
the illustrious princes now in exile; but I caution them not to be led
into error by that which has been supposed to be the guide of life. I
would give the same caution to all princes. Not that I derogate from the
use of history. It is a great improver of the understanding, by showing
both men and affairs in a great variety of views. From this source much
political wisdom may be learned,--that is, may be learned as habit, not
as precept,--and as an exercise to strengthen the mind, as furnishing
materials to enlarge and enrich it, not as a repertory of cases and
precedents for a lawyer: if it were, a thousand times better would it be
that a statesman had never learned to read,--_vellem nescirent literas_.
This method turns their understanding from the object before them, and
from the present exigencies of the world, to comparisons with former
times, of which, after all, we can know very little and very
imperfectly; and our guides, the historians, who are to give us their
true interpretation, are often prejudiced, often ignorant, often fonder
of system than of truth. Whereas, if a man with reasonable good parts
and natural sagacity, and not in the leading-strings of any master, will
look steadily on the business before him, without being diverted by
retrospect and comparison, he may be capable of forming a reasonable
good judgment of what is to be done. There are some fundamental points
in which Nature never changes; but they are few and obvious, and belong
rather to morals than to politics. But so far as regards political
matter, the human mind and human affairs are susceptible of infinite
modifications, and of combinations wholly new and unlooked-for. Very
few, for instance, could have imagined that property, which has been
taken for natural dominion, should, through the whole of a vast kingdom,
lose all its importance, and even its influence. This is what history or
books of speculation could hardly have taught us. How many could have
thought that the most complete and formidable revolution in a great
empire should be made by men of letters, not as subordinate instruments
and trumpeters of sedition, but as the chief contrivers and managers,
and in a short time as the open administrators and sovereign rulers? Who
could have imagined that atheism could produce one of the most violently
operative principles of fanaticism? Who could have imagined, that, in a
commonwealth in a manner cradled in war, and in an extensive and
dreadful war, military commanders should be of little or no account,
--that the Convention should not contain one military man of name,--that
administrative bodies, in a state of the utmost confusion, and of but a
momentary duration, and composed of men with not one imposing part of
character, should be able to govern the country and its armies with an
authority which the most settled senates and the most respected monarchs
scarcely ever had in the same degree? This, for one, I confess I did not
foresee, though all the rest was present to me very early, and not out
of my apprehension even for several years.

I believe very few were able to enter into the effects of mere _terror_,
as a principle not only for the support of power in given hands or
forms, but in those things in which the soundest political speculators
were of opinion that the least appearance of force would be totally
destructive,--such is the market, whether of money, provision, or
commodities of any kind. Yet for four years we have seen loans made,
treasuries supplied, and armies levied and maintained, more numerous
than France ever showed in the field, _by the effects of fear alone_.

Here is a state of things of which in its totality if history furnishes
any examples at all, they are very remote and feeble. I therefore am not
so ready as some are to tax with folly or cowardice those who were not
prepared to meet an evil of this nature. Even now, after the events, all
the causes may be somewhat difficult to ascertain. Very many are,
however, traceable. But these things history and books of speculation
(as I have already said) did not teach men to foresee, and of course to
resist. Now that they are no longer a matter of sagacity, but of
experience, of recent experience, of our own experience, it would be
unjustifiable to go back to the records of other times to instruct us to
manage what they never enabled us to foresee.

FOOTNOTES:

[33] Some accounts make them five times as many.

[34] Before the Revolution, the French noblesse were so reduced in
numbers that they did not much exceed twenty thousand at least of
full-grown men. As they have been very cruelly formed into entire corps
of soldiers, it is estimated, that, by the sword, and distempers in the
field, they have not lost less than five thousand men; and if this
course is pursued, it is to be feared that the whole body of the French
nobility may be extinguished. Several hundreds have also perished by
famine, and various accidents.

[35] This was the language of the Ministerialists.

[36] Vattel.

[37] The first object of this club was the propagation of Jacobin
principles.




APPENDIX.

EXTRACTS FROM VATTEL'S LAW OF NATIONS.

[The Titles, Marginal Abstracts, and Notes are by Mr. BURKE, excepting
such of the Notes as are here distinguished.]


CASES OF INTERFERENCE WITH INDEPENDENT POWERS.

"If, then, there is anywhere a nation of a _restless and mischievous_
disposition, always ready _to injure others, to traverse their designs,
and to raise domestic troubles_[38] it is not to be doubted that all
have a right to join _in order to repress, chastise, and put it ever
after out of its power_ to injure them. Such should be the just fruits
of the policy which Machiavel praises in Cæsar Borgia. The conduct
followed by Philip the Second, King of Spain, _was adapted to unite all
Europe against him_; and it was from just reasons that Henry the Great
formed the design of humbling a power _formidable by its forces and
pernicious by its maxims_."--Book II. ch. iv. § 53.

"Let us apply to the unjust what we have said above (§ 53) of a
mischievous or maleficent nation. If there be any that makes an open
profession _of trampling justice under foot, of despising and violating
the right of others_,[39] whenever it finds an opportunity, _the
interest of human society will authorize all others to unite in order to
humble and chastise it_. We do not here forget the maxim established in
our preliminaries, that it does not belong to nations to usurp the power
of being judges of each other. In particular cases, liable to the least
doubt, it ought to be supposed that each of the parties may have some
right; and the injustice of that which has committed the injury may
proceed from error, and not from a general contempt of justice. _But if,
by constant maxims, and by a continued conduct_, one nation shows that
it has evidently this pernicious disposition, and that it considers no
right as sacred, the safety of the human race requires that it should be
suppressed. To form and support an unjust pretension is to do an injury
_not only to him who is interested in this pretension, but to mock at
justice in general, and to injure all nations_."--Ibid. ch. v. § 70.

[Sidenote: To succor against tyranny.]

[Sidenote: Case of English Revolution.]

[Sidenote: An odious tyrant.]

[Sidenote: Rebellious people.]

[Sidenote: Case of civil war.]

[Sidenote: Sovereign and his people, when distinct powers.]

"If the prince, attacking the fundamental laws, gives his subjects a
legal right to resist him, if tyranny, _becoming insupportable_, obliges
the nation to rise in their defence, every foreign power has a right to
succor an oppressed people who implore their assistance. The English
justly complained of James the Second. _The nobility and the most
distinguished patriots_ resolved to put a check on his enterprises,
which manifestly tended to overthrow the Constitution and to destroy the
liberties and the religion of the people, _and therefore applied for
assistance to the United Provinces_. The authority of the Prince of
Orange had, doubtless, an influence on the deliberations of the
States-General; but it did not make them commit injustice: for when a
people, from good reasons, take up arms against an oppressor, _justice
and generosity require that brave men should be assisted in the defence
of their liberties_. Whenever, therefore, a civil war is kindled in a
state, foreign powers may assist that party which appears to them to
have justice on their side. _He who assists an odious tyrant, he who
declares FOR AN UNJUST AND REBELLIOUS PEOPLE, offends against his duty_.
When the bands of the political society are broken, or at least
suspended between the sovereign and his people, they may then be
considered as two distinct powers; and since each is independent of all
foreign authority, nobody has a right to judge them. Either may be in
the right, and each of those who grant their assistance may believe that
he supports a good cause. It follows, then, in virtue of the voluntary
law of nations, (see Prelim. § 21,) that the two parties may act as
having an equal right, and behave accordingly, till the decision of the
affair.

[Sidenote: Not to be pursued to an extreme.]

[Sidenote: Endeavor to persuade subjects to a revolt.]

"But we ought not to abuse this maxim for authorizing odious proceedings
against the tranquillity of states. It is a violation of the law of
nations _to persuade those subjects to revolt who actually obey their
sovereign, though they complain of his government_.

[Sidenote: Attempt to excite subjects to revolt.]

"The practice of nations is conformable to our maxims. When the German
Protestants came to the assistance of the Reformed in France, the court
never undertook to treat them otherwise than as common enemies, and
according to the laws of war. France at the same time assisted the
Netherlands, which took up arms against Spain, and did not pretend that
her troops should be considered upon any other footing than as
auxiliaries in a regular war. _But no power avoids complaining of an
atrocious injury, if any one attempts by his emissaries to excite his
subjects to revolt_.

[Sidenote: Tyrants.]

"As to those monsters, who, under the title of sovereigns, render
themselves the scourges and horror of the human race,--these are savage
beasts, from which every brave man may justly purge the earth. All
antiquity has praised Hercules for delivering the world from an Antæus,
a Busiris, and a Diomedes."--Ibid. ch. iv. § 56.

After stating that nations have no right to interfere in domestic
concerns, he proceeds,--"But this rule does not preclude them from
espousing the quarrel of a dethroned king, and assisting him, if he
appears to have justice on his side. They then declare themselves
enemies of the nation which has acknowledged his rival; as, when two
_different nations_ are at war, they are at liberty to assist that whose
quarrel they shall think has the fairest appearance."--Book IV. ch. ii.
§ 14.


CASE OF ALLIANCES.

[Sidenote: When an alliance to preserve a king takes place.]

[Sidenote: King does not lose his quality by the loss of his kingdom.]

"It is asked if that alliance subsists with the king and the royal
family when by some revolution they are deprived of their crown. We have
lately remarked, (§ 194,) that a personal alliance expires with the
reign of him who contracted it: but that is to be understood of an
alliance with the state, limited, as to its duration, to the reign of
the contracting king. This of which we are here speaking is of another
nature. For though it binds the state, since it is bound by all the
public acts of its sovereign, it is made directly in favor of the king
and his family; it would therefore be absurd for it to terminate _at the
moment when they have need of it, and at an event against which it was
made_. Besides, the king does not lose his quality merely by the loss of
his kingdom. _If he is stripped of it unjustly by an usurper, or by
rebels, he preserves his rights, in the number of which are his
alliances_.[40]

[Sidenote: Case wherein aid may be given to a deposed king.]

"But who shall judge if the king be dethroned lawfully or by violence?
An independent nation acknowledges no judge. If the body of the nation
declares the king deprived of his rights by the abuse he has made of
them, and deposes him, it may justly do it _when its grievances are well
founded_, and no other power has a right to censure it. The personal
ally of this king ought not then to assist him against the nation that
has made use of its right in deposing him: if he attempts it, he injures
that nation. England declared war against Louis the Fourteenth, in the
year 1688, for supporting the interest of James the Second, who was
deposed in form by the nation. The same country declared war against him
a second time, at the beginning of the present century, because that
prince acknowledged the son of the deposed James, under the name of
James the Third. In doubtful cases, and _when the body of the nation has
not pronounced, or HAS NOT PRONOUNCED FREELY_, a sovereign may naturally
support and defend an ally; and it is then that the voluntary law of
nations subsists between different states. The party that has driven out
the king pretends to have right on its side; this unhappy king and his
ally flatter themselves with having the same advantage; and as they have
no common judge upon earth, they have no other method to take but to
apply to arms to terminate the dispute; they therefore engage in a
formal war.

[Sidenote: Not obliged to pursue his right beyond a certain point.]

"In short, when the foreign prince has faithfully fulfilled his
engagements towards an unfortunate monarch, when he has done in his
defence, or to procure his restoration, all he was obliged to perform in
virtue of the alliance, if his efforts are ineffectual, the dethroned
prince cannot require him to support an endless war in his favor, or
expect that he will eternally remain the enemy of the nation or of the
sovereign who has deprived him of the throne. He must think of peace,
abandon the ally, and consider him as having himself abandoned his right
through necessity. Thus Louis the Fourteenth was obliged to abandon
James the Second, and to acknowledge King William, though he had at
first treated him as an usurper.

[Sidenote: Case of defence against subjects.]

[Sidenote: Case where real alliances may be renounced.]

"The same question presents itself in real alliances, and, in general,
in all alliances made with the state, and not in particular with a king
for the defence of his person. An ally ought, doubtless, to be defended
against every invasion, against every foreign violence, _and even
against his rebellious subjects: in the same manner a republic ought to
be defended against the enterprises of one who attempts to destroy the
public liberty_. But it ought to be remembered that an ally of the state
or the nation is not its judge. If the nation has deposed its king in
form,--if the people of a republic have driven out their magistrates and
set themselves at liberty, or acknowledged the authority of an usurper,
either expressly or tacitly,--to oppose these domestic regulations, by
disputing their justice or validity, would be to interfere in the
government of the nation, and to do it an injury. (See § 54, and
following, of this Book.) The ally remains the ally of the state,
notwithstanding the change that has happened in it. _However, when this
change renders the alliance useless, dangerous, or disagreeable, it may
renounce it; for it may say, upon a good foundation, that it would not
have entered into an alliance with that nation, had it been under the
present form of government._

[Sidenote: Not an eternal war.]

"We may say here, what we have said on a personal alliance: however
just the cause of that king may be who is driven from the throne either
by his subjects or by a foreign usurper, his aides are not obliged to
support _an eternal war_ in his favor. After having made ineffectual
efforts to restore him, they must at length give peace to their people,
and come to an accommodation with the usurper, and for that purpose
treat with him as with a lawful sovereign. Louis the Fourteenth,
exhausted by a bloody and unsuccessful war, offered at Gertruydenberg to
abandon his grandson, whom he had placed on the throne of Spain; and
when affairs had changed their appearance, Charles of Austria, the rival
of Philip, saw himself, in his turn, abandoned by his allies. They grew
weary of exhausting their states in order to give him the possession of
a crown which they believed to be his due, but which, to all appearance,
they should never be able to procure for him."--Book II. ch. xii. §§
196, 197.


DANGEROUS POWER.

[Sidenote: All nations may join.]

"It is still easier to prove, that, should this formidable power betray
any unjust and ambitious dispositions by doing the least injustice to
another, every nation may avail themselves of the occasion, and join
their forces to those of the party injured, in order to reduce that
ambitious power, and disable it from so easily oppressing its neighbors,
or keeping them in continual awe and fear. For an injury gives a nation
a right to provide for its future safety by taking away from the
violator the means of oppression. It is lawful, and even praiseworthy,
to assist those who are oppressed, or unjustly attacked."--Book III. ch.
iii. § 45.


SYSTEM OF EUROPE.

[Sidenote: Europe a republic to preserve order and liberty.]

"Europe forms a political system, a body where the whole is connected by
the relations and different interests of nations inhabiting this part of
the world. It is not, as anciently, a confused heap of detached pieces,
each of which thought itself very little concerned in the fate of
others, and seldom regarded things which did not immediately relate to
it. The continual attention of sovereigns to what is on the carpet, the
constant residence of ministers, and _the perpetual negotiations, make
Europe a kind of a republic, the members of which, though independent,
unite, through the ties of common interest, for the maintenance of order
and liberty_. Hence arose that famous scheme of the political
equilibrium, or balance of power, by which is understood such a
disposition of things as no power is able absolutely to predominate or
to prescribe laws to others."--Book III. ch. iii. § 47.

"Confederacies would be a sure way of preserving the equilibrium, and
supporting the liberty of nations, did all princes thoroughly understand
their true interests, and regulate all their steps for the good of the
state."--Ibid. § 49.


CONTRIBUTIONS IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.

[Sidenote: To be moderate.]

"Instead of the pillage of the country and defenceless places, a custom
has been substituted more humane and more advantageous to the sovereign
making war: I mean that of contributions. Whoever carries on _a just
war[41] has a right of making the enemy's country contribute to the
support of the army, and towards defraying all the charges of the war_.
Thus he obtains a part of what is due to him, and the subjects of the
enemy, on submitting to this imposition, are secured from pillage, and
the country is preserved. But a general who would not sully his
reputation is to moderate his contributions, and proportion them to
those on whom they are imposed. An excess in this point is not without
the reproach of cruelty and inhumanity: if it shows less ferocity than
ravage and destruction, it glares with avarice."--Book III. ch. ix. §
165.


ASYLUM.

"If an exile or banished man is driven from his country for any crime,
it does _not_ belong to the nation in which he has taken refuge to
punish him for a fault committed in a foreign country. For Nature gives
to mankind and to nations the right of punishing only for their defence
and safety (§ 169): whence it follows that he can only be punished by
those he has offended.

"But this reason shows, that, if the justice of each nation ought in
general to be confined to the punishment of crimes committed in its own
territories, we ought to except from this rule the villains who, by the
quality and habitual frequency of their crimes, violate all public
security, and declare themselves the enemies of the human race.
Poisoners, assassins, and incendiaries by profession may be exterminated
wherever they are seized; for they attack and injure all nations by
trampling under foot the foundations of their common safety. Thus
pirates are brought to the gibbet by the first into whose hands they
fall. If the sovereign of the country where crimes of that nature have
been committed reclaims the authors of them in order to bring them to
punishment, they ought to be restored to him, as to one who is
_principally_ interested in punishing them in an exemplary manner: and
it being proper to convict the guilty, and to try them according to some
form of law, this is a _second_ [not sole] reason why malefactors are
usually delivered up at the desire of the state where their crimes have
been committed."--Book I. ch. xix. §§ 232, 233.

"Every nation has a right of refusing to admit a stranger into the
country, when he cannot enter it without putting it in evident danger,
or without doing it a remarkable prejudice."[42]--Ibid. § 230.


FOREIGN MINISTERS.

"The obligation does not go so far as to suffer at all times perpetual
ministers, who are desirous of residing with a sovereign, though they
have nothing to negotiate. It is natural, indeed, and very agreeable to
the sentiments which nations owe to each other, that these resident
ministers, _when there it nothing to be feared from their stay_, should
be friendly received; but if there be any solid reason against this,
what is for the good of the state ought unquestionably to be preferred:
and the foreign sovereign cannot take it amiss, if his minister, who has
concluded the affairs of his commission, and has no other affairs to
negotiate, be desired to depart.[43] The custom of keeping everywhere
ministers continually resident is now so strongly established, that the
refusal of a conformity to it would, without _very good reasons_, give
offence. These reasons may arise from _particular_ conjunctures; but
there are also common reasons always subsisting, and such as relate to
_the constitution of a government and the state of a nation_. The
republics have often very good reasons of the latter kind to excuse
themselves from continually suffering foreign ministers who _corrupt the
citizens in order to gain them over to their masters, to the great
prejudice of the republic and fomenting of the parties_, &c. And should
they only diffuse among a nation, formerly plain, frugal, and virtuous,
a taste for luxury, avidity for money, and the manners of courts, these
would be more than sufficient for wise and provident rulers to dismiss
them."--Book IV. ch. v. § 66.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] This is the case of France:--Semonville at Turin,--Jacobin
clubs,--Liegeois meeting,--Flemish meeting,--La Fayette's
answer,--Clootz's embassy,--Avignon.

[39] The French acknowledge no power not directly emanating from the
people.

[40] By the seventh article of the Treaty of TRIPLE ALLIANCE, between
France, England, and Holland, signed at the Hague, in the year 1717, it
is stipulated, "that, if the kingdoms, countries, or provinces of any of
the allies are disturbed by intestine quarrels, or _by rebellions, on
account of the said successions_," (the Protestant succession to the
throne of Great Britain, and the succession to the throne of France, as
settled by the Treaty of Utrecht,) "or _under any other pretext
whatever_, the ally thus in trouble shall have full right to demand of
his allies the succors above mentioned": that is to say, the same
succors as in the case of an invasion from any foreign power,--8,000
foot and 2,000 horse to be furnished by France or England, and 4,000
foot and 1,000 horse by the States-General.

By the fourth article of the Treaty of QUADRUPLE ALLIANCE, between
England, France, Holland, and the Emperor of Germany, signed in the year
1718, the contracting powers "promise and oblige themselves that they
will and ought to maintain, guaranty, and defend the right of succession
in the kingdom of France, according to the tenor of the treaties made at
Utrecht the 11th day of April, 1713; ... and this they shall perform
_against all persons whosoever who may presume to disturb the order of
the said succession_, in contradiction to the previous acts and treaties
subsequent thereon."

The above treaties have been revived and confirmed by every subsequent
treaty of peace between Great Britain and France.--EDIT.

[41] Contributions raised by the Duke of Brunswick in France. Compare
these with the contributions raised by the French in the
Netherlands.--EDIT.

[42] The third article of the Treaty of Triple Alliance and the latter
part of the fourth article of the Treaty of Quadruple Alliance
stipulate, that no kind of refuge or protection shall be given to
rebellious subjects of the contracting powers.--EDIT.

[43] Dismission of M. Chauvelin.--EDIT.





END OF VOL. IV.








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