polite ecclesiastical compliments to the king; and, when that grace is said, retires and is heard of no more. It is however a part of the constitution, and may be called out into act and energy whenever there is occasion, and whenever those who conjure up that spirit will choose to abide the consequences. It is wise to permit its legal existence; it is much wiser to continue it a legal existence only."

Again:

"These were the considerations, gentlemen, which led me early to think, that, in the comprehensive dominion which the Divine Providence had put into our hands, instead of troubling our understandings with speculations concerning the unity of empire, and the identity or distinction of legislative powers, and inflaming our passions with the heat and pride of controversy, it was our duty, in all soberness, to conform our government to the character and circumstances of the several people who composed this mighty and strangely diversified mass. ss. I never was wild enough to conceive, that one method would serve for the whole; that the natives of Hindostan and those of Virginia could be ordered in the same manner; or that the Cutchery court and the grand jury of Salem could be regulated on a similar plan. I was persuaded that government was a practical thing, made for the happiness of mankind, and not to furnish out a spectacle of uniformity, to gratify the schemes of visionary politicians. Our business was to rule, not to wrangle; and it would have been a poor compensation that we had triumphed in a dispute, whilst we lost an empire."

What follows, however, is still more remarkable. Part of it is exactly like much in the "Reflections," and indeed might almost be imagined to be cited from thence.

"If any ask me what a free government is, I answer, that, for any practical purpose, it is what the people think so; and that they, and not I, are the natural, lawful, and competent judges of this matter. If they practically allow me a greater degree of authority over them than is consistent with any correct ideas of perfect freedom, I ought to thank them for so great a trust, and not to endeavour to prove from thence, that they have reasoned amiss, and that having gone so far, by analogy, they must hereafter have no enjoyment but by my pleasure.

"If we had seen this done by any others, we should have concluded them far gone in madness. It is melancholy as well as ridiculous, to observe the kind of reasoning with which the publick has been amused, in order to divert our minds from the common sense of our American policy. There are people, who have split and anatomised the doctrine of free government, as if it were an abstract question concerning metaphysical liberty and necessity, and not a matter of moral prudence and natural feeling. They have disputed, whether liberty be a positive or a negative idea; whether it does not consist in being governed by laws; without considering what are the laws, or who are the makers; whether man has any rights by nature; and whether all the property he enjoys be not the alms of his government, and his life itself their favour and indulgence. Others, corrupting religion, as these have perverted philosophy, contend, that Christians are redeemed into captivity, and the blood of the Saviour of mankind has been shed to make them the slaves of a few proud and insolent sinners. These shocking extremes provoking to extremes of another kind, speculations are let loose as destructive to all authority, as the former are to all freedom; and every government is called tyranny and usurpation which is not formed on their fancies. In this manner the stirrers-up of this contention, not satisfied with distracting our dependencies and filling them with blood and slaughter, are corrupting our understandings: they are endeavouring to tear up, along with practical liberty, all the foundations of human society, all equity and justice, religion and order.

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Civil freedom, gentlemen, is not, as many have endeavoured to persuade you, a thing that lies hid in the depth of abstruse science. It is a blessing and a benefit, not an abstract speculation; and all the just reasoning that can be upon it is of so coarse a texture, as perfectly to suit the ordinary capacities of those who are to enjoy, and of those who are to defend it. Far from any resemblance to those propositions in germetry and metaphysicks, which admit no medium, but must be true or false in all their latitude; social and civil freedom, like all other things in common life, are variously mixed and modified, enjoyed in very different degrees, and shaped into an infinite diversity of forms, according to the temper and circumstances of every community. The extreme of liberty (which is its abstract perfection, but its real fault) obtains nowhere, nor ought to obtain any where. Because extremes, as we all know, in every point which relates

either to our duties or satisfactions in life, are destructive both to virtue and enjoyment. Liberty too must be limited in order to be possessed. The degree of restraint it is impossible in any case to settle precisely."

We shall close these citations with one or two extracts from the "Speech on Economical Reform."

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Early reformations are amicable arrangements with a friend in power; late reformations are terms imposed upon a conquered enemy: early reformations are made in cool blood; late reformations are made under a state of inflammation. In that state of things the people behold in government nothing that is respectable. They see the abuse, and they will see nothing else—They fall into the temper of a furious populace provoked at the disorder of a house of ill fame; they never attempt to correct or regulate; they go to work by the shortest way-They abate the nuisance, they pull down the house. "This is my opinion with regard to the true interest of government. But as it is the interest of government that reformation should be early, it is the interest of the people that it should be temperate. It is their interest, because a temperate reform is permanent; and because it has a principle of growth. Whenever we improve, it is right to leave room for a further improvement. It is right to consider, to look about us, to examine the effect of what we have done.—Then we can proceed with confidence, because we can proceed with intelligence. Whereas in hot reformations, in what men, more zealous than considerate, call making clear work, the whole is generally so crude, so harsh, so indigested, mixed with so much impru dence, and so much injustice; so contrary to the whole course of human nature, and human institutions, that the very people who are most eager for it are among the first to grow disgusted at what they have done. Then some part of the abdicated grievance is recalled from its exile in order to become a corrective of the correction. Then the abuse assumes all the credit and popularity of a reform. The very idea of purity and disinterestedness in politicks falls into disrepute, and is considered as a vision of hot and inexperi enced men; and thus disorders become incurable, not by the virulence of their own quality, but by the unapt and violent nature of the remedies. A great part, therefore, of my idea of reform is meant to operate gradually; some benefits will come at a nearer, some at a more remote period. We must no more make haste to be rich by parsimony, than by intemperate acquisition."

Those who cannot see in these extracts the same general spirit and tendency which characterized the whole of Burke's political system, must surely be blind.

Thus far on the mere consistency of Burke's system. Of its soundness or unsoundness we feel ourselves hardly called upon to venture an opinion. We feel little hesitation, however, in saying that it was founded on just and comprehensive principles and a profound knowledge of the great laws and necessary conditions of human society. That Burke sometimes carried his principles too far-that he occasionally erred in the application of them-that his reverence for ancient institutions was now and then excessive and absurd— that his reforms would have been, in many cases, more wary and gradual than circumstances warranted or than the most jealous caution required, is only to affirm, what is very true, that, such is the infirmity of the human mind, men cannot hold any opinions, not even the wisest, without deviating into occasional extravagance, and that their very adherence to profound general maxims will sometimes incapacitate for a judicious application of them to particular circumstances.

Thus Burke's horror of abstract principles was in some instances carried to almost absurd and dangerous extent. In his work on the French Revolution, for instance, while exploding some of the "rights of men," some of which it must be confessed were absurd enough, and while exposing the mischievous consequences which visionary politicians. would have grafted upon them all, he gives but too much reason to lament that he has sometimes incautiously inveighed against some of the real "rights of men." In his eagerness to demolish some pernicious errors he is in danger of destroying some salutary truths. The particular instances will be mentioned hereafter.

But a word or two more on Burke's unmeasured invective against the abstract principles of political science. As the tendency of all improvements in government and legislation is

to approach still nearer and nearer to theoretical perfection, although they will assuredly never reach it, it can never be wise to declaim against abstract political science, with the indiscriminate violence which too often characterizes the writings of Burke. To view it with such habitual and excessive suspicion, to pursue it with such immitigable scorn and hatred, is to repress the very attempt to purify it, or to apply its principles with caution and wisdom; to induce an indolent and contented acquiescence in the present state of any government; to multiply the obstacles in the way of all future improvement; and, remotely, even to engender a belief that a narrow expediency is every thing in politics, and that this science, unlike every other, is not subject to any great laws and general principles. With respect to the modes of introducing and applying these general principles, indeed, nothing can be more just than his great doctrine, that all this must be determined by the actual circumstances of nations. This truth he has stated more frequently than any other; has enforced it with every species of argument, and illustrated it with all the prodigality of his boundless imagination. As the progress of all states is from ignorance to knowledge, from slavery to freedom, from bad government to good, and that too by a long series of almost imperceptible changes, numberless interests at variance with more enlightened principles of government and legislation will have sprung up and consolidated themselves before the discovery, or at all events before the general recognition of such principles. In bringing these principles therefore into operation, statesmen, if they would act with wisdom, must act with caution, and submit the truths which an enlightened political philosophy has discovered to be modified, at least for a time, by circumstances. This they must do, unless they would attempt changes of such suddenness and magnitude, as would involve universal ruin, or inflict more misery than they would remedy; it is the course which policy, interest, and a profound knowledge of human nature, would alike concur in dictating. And even when such principles have been introduced as far as circumstances will permit, they will be still far enough from operating with the precision and uniformity of theoretical perfection. Numberless anomalies will still exist in the infinite complexity of human affairs, to shame the profoundest masters of political wisdom.

As a political tactician, Burke was far inferior to many of his contemporaries. There was, in fact, a singular disproportion between his knowledge of human nature in general, and his knowledge of individual character; or if he possessed the latter at all, he was strangely incapable of using it to any practical purpose. None understood better than he did, that abstract principles of policy must be modified by actually existing circumstances; yet this very same maxim, of such profound truth and such immense value, he showed a singular inability to apply to individual conduct, on the small scale and within the limited sphere of parties. In the conduct of any measure, he never deigned to consult prejudices or to soften enmity. He had no patience to bear with folly; he was only irritated by it. So far from any attempt to conciliate his political opponents, he often exasperated hostility by setting them all at open defiance, and would frequently pour out the most bitter scorn and invective, when the most guarded and temperate style of expression was essential to success. Never checking the impetuosity of his passions, he often contended for mere trifles with a pertinacity which could only have been justified in the defence of principles of vital importance; trifles, the timely and graceful concession of which would have insured success, which would have far more than counterbalanced such a sacrifice. He never seemed nicely to calculate, with a view to his own conduct, the temper and conduct of the House, or the exact relations of parties in it; thus he never cared to conceal or disguise his opinions on any subject whatever, but uniformly expressed them boldly and fully. Now, though we may admire the blunt honesty of such conduct, none can commend its prudence; nothing but the most imperious necessity could justify it. This impetuosity of temper he himself deeply lamented in a beautiful letter to Charles James Fox, from which we extract the following curious passage:

"For my part, I do all I can to give ease to my mind in this strange position. I remember, some years ago, when I was pressing some points with great eagerness and anxiety, and complaining with great vexation to the Duke of Richmond of the little progress I made, he told me kindly, and I believe very truly, that, though he was far from thinking so himself, other people could not be persuaded I had not some latent private interest in pushing these matters, which I urged with an earnestness so extreme, and so much approaching to passion. He was certainly in the right. I am thoroughly resolved to give, both to myself and to my friends, less vexation on these subjects than hitherto I have done;much less indeed.

" If you should grow too earnest, you will be still more inexcusable than I was.

Your having entered into affairs so much younger ought to make them too familiar to you to be the cause of much agitation, and you have much more before you for your work. Do not be in haste. Lay your foundations deep in publick opinion."

It was in a great measure owing to such causes as these, insignificant as they may at first appear, that Burke, with powers so transcendant, exercised, comparatively speaking, so small an influence in the House of Commons. These causes may appear insignificant, but they are not really so; nor will they be so considered by any who have reflected at all on the comparatively trivial circumstances which will often baffle the efforts of politicians and determine the fate of the best concerted measures. This renders it necessary for the statesman to neglect no legitimate source of influence; just in that proportion will he multiply the probabilities of success and diminish those of his failure. Nothing that can in any degree

or by any possibility affect his influence can with safety be neglected, for just in that proportion will he lose or gain in moral power,—the only power which, in a free country, he has to trust to. And surely by how much more feeble the causes which may affect his destinies, the greater the folly which attaches to his negligence, and the more ignominious his overthrow. Burke would have been the first to acknowledge, in theory, the value of these maxims, however difficult the impetuosity of his temper might render it to reduce them to practice. But we shall say no more at present on these peculiarities of his character, as they will necessarily come again into consideration when we treat of him as an orator. Over this part of his character they exerted an influence quite as pernicious, and indeed for the very same reasons; since in his case the success of the orator would be the success of the politician. The most effective advocacy of a measure is that which is shown by carrying it.

As an ORATOR Burke will never be ranked amongst the very first masters of the art, so long as the professed object of oratory shall be conviction and persuasion. Not that we for a moment assert that the degree of eloquence possessed by an orator is always to be estimated by his success; by no means; for as on the one hand there are many cases in which the divinest eloquence will in vain contend against the prejudices of an audience predetermined not to be convinced, so there are many, where the passions have already spoken more eloquently than the orator: the question, in such instances, is not how much, but how little oratorical skill is necessary to success. But though, owing to these causes, the eloquence of an orator is not to be estimated by his success, it may very safely be estimated by its adaptation to produce success. That is the greatest eloquence, which, cæteris paribus, is most likely to effect persuasion; where, all the circumstances of the audience being considered, there is a wise, a practical adaptation of all the parts of the speaker's address to this great object. Now this highest degree of oratorical excellence cannot, in our opinion, be predicated of Burke. To this comparative inferiority many causes contributed. In the first place, some of the very excellences of his intellect operated against him; and the superlative degree in which he possessed certain faculties, was an obstacle to success. There is too much both of general disquisition and of fancy in his speeches; too much both of poetry and philo sophy. But these remarks will be better understood when we have made one or two of a more general character.

If the end of oratory,—and that it is so of the political orator is universally admitted,be the conviction and persuasion of the audience, then every thing must be strictly subordinate to that end; just as in any other attempt to accomplish an object by the skilful use of appropriate means. In all such cases, every thing is valuable or beautiful solely from its relation of fitness to the designed end. Thus, peculiarities of thought or of style, which would justly be accounted excellences in some departments of composition, may be serious defects in others. Acting on this maxim, the really great orator will be willing to sacrifice any of his own tastes and predilections for the sake of his object, and be ready to abandon particular arguments, or illustrations, or a certain method, abstractedly the best, in his opinion, if, by such deviation, he can produce a deeper impression on his audience. If he be a philosopher as well as orator, he will studiously lay aside the former character when he assumes the latter, or compel it, notwithstanding its abstractedly more dignified character, to undertake for a while the office of a handmaid and menial to eloquence. If characterized by a powerful imagination, he will endeavour rather to repress than to excite it to its full energy, to allay and temper its splendour down to that sober light which may enable his audience to see his argument more clearly, instead of being dazzled and confounded. In the selection and arrangement of arguments-in the number and extent of his illustrations, he will be guided simply by their conduciveness to the proposed end; he will abstain from indulging even in his most cherished speculations, or from employing his most brilliant ornaments, if he thinks that his audience will not appreciate the one, or will be lost only in profitless admiration of the other. He will thus be constantly practising the duties of self-denial--constantly mortifying the propensities of some part of his intellectual nature. He will understand well that the value of things changes with time and place; that in Robinson Crusoe's island a pound of gunpowder is worth whole chests of Spanish ingots.

The great elements of the highest style of eloquence, those which constitute the devotys, the nameless energy of the ancients, are close, rapid, powerful practical reasoning, animated by intense passion. These are the great elements: philosophical reflection and splendid imagery are valuable only as occasional auxiliaries, and are always of subordinate importance. Let any one look at the orations of Demosthenes: his eloquence has but few traces of either of the above qualities. His philosophy never assumes the form of abstract propositions or general reflections; it is rather an application of them to particular circumstances. Like history, his eloquence is philosophy teaching by examples. In the same manner, his illustrations are almost always in the form of metaphor; characterized by force far more than by beauty, and expressed with the utmost possible conciseness. Not an epithet is wasted in mere ornament.

It is, indeed, important that the orator should be capable of taking comprehensive views of the topics under discussion; and that he should possess an imagination that can, upon proper occasions, render argument more perspicuous by just illustration. But it is of still greater importance that he should possess a judgment equal to the management of these ambitious and rebellious faculties.-If we examine Burke's speeches on the foregoing principles, their defects become immediately apparent. He is too philosophical and too imaginative. A man who, with a very philosophical mind, has somehow or other become an orator, must always find it hard to struggle against the bias of his nature, especially if nature has been fixed by long habit; his mind will be sure to indicate its tendencies, and often just when they ought to be repressed; he will be fond of tracing particular instances to general rules, and of ascending from the particular circumstances of the case before him to maxims of universal application; of doing this formally and explicitly, even where such a reference is already tacitly admitted; of entering into elaborate disquisition on the abstract excellence, beauty, and grandeur of such principles, and their mutual harmony. Such disquisitory matter as this has become his delight, and he cannot refrain from it. To give it