[] THE BEAUTIES OF BURKE.

ACT OF GRACE.

I NEVER reliſhed Acts of Grace, nor ever ſub⯑mitted to them but from deſpair of better. They are a diſhonourable invention, by which, not from humanity, not from policy, but merely becauſe we have not room enough to hold theſe victims of the abſurdity of our laws, we turn looſe upon the public three or four thouſand naked wretches, corrupted by the habits, debaſed by the ignominy, of a priſon. If the creditor had a right to thoſe carcaſes, as a natural claim for his property, I am ſure we have no right to deprive him of that ſecurity. But if the few pounds of fleſh were not neceſſary to his ſecurity, we had not a right to detain the unfortunate debtor, without any benefit at all to the perſon that confined him.

ACCOUNTANTS (PUBLIC.)

As the extent of our wars has ſcattered the ac⯑countants under the Paymaſter into every part of the globe, the grand and ſure paymaſter, Death, in all [2] his ſhapes, calls theſe accountants to another reckon⯑ing. Death, indeed, domineers over every thing but the forms of the Exchequer. Over theſe he has no power; they are impaſſive and immortal. The audit of the Exchequer, more ſevere than the audit to which the accountants are gone, demands proofs which in the nature of things are difficult, ſometimes impoſſible to be had. In this reſpect too, rigour, as uſual, defeats itſelf. Then, the Exchequer never gives a particular receipt, or clears a man of his account, as far as it goes. A final acquittance, (or a quietus, as they term it) is ſcarcely ever to be ob⯑tained. Terrors and ghoſts of unlaid accountants haunt the houſes of their children from generation to generation. Families, in the courſe of ſucceſſion, fall into minorities; the inheritance comes into the hands of females; and very perplexed affairs are often delivered over into the hands of negligent guardians and faithleſs ſtewards. So that the demand remains, when the advantage of the money is gone, if ever any advantage at all has been made of it. This is a cauſe of infinite diſtreſs to families; and becomes a ſource of influence to an extent that can ſcarcely be imagined, but by thoſe who have taken ſome pains to trace it. The mildneſs of Govern⯑ment in the employment of uſeleſs and dangerous powers, furniſhes no reaſon for their continuance.

ABUSE OF OFFICE.

IT is neceſſary, [...]n all matters of public complaint, where men frequently feel right and argue wrong, to ſeparate prejudice from reaſon; and to be very ſure, in attempting the redreſs of a grievance, that we hit upon its real ſeat, and its true nature. Where there is an abuſe in office, the firſt thing that occurs in heat is to cenſure the officer. Our natural diſpo⯑ſition leads all our inquiries rather to perſons than [3] to things. But this prejudice is to be corrected by maturer thinking.—

ABUSE (INVETERATE.)

BUT there is a time, when men will not ſuffer bad things becauſe their anceſtors have ſuffered worſe. There is a time, when the hoary head of inveterate abuſe will neither draw reverence nor obtain pro⯑tection.—Ibid.

AMBASSADORS.

THE foreign Miniſters are the links of our con⯑nection with other nations.—Ibid.

ADDRESSERS.

THERE are many circumſtances in the zeal ſhewn for civil war, which ſeem to diſcover little of real magnanimity. The addreſſers offer their own perſons, and they are ſatisfied with hiring Germans; they promiſe their private fortunes, and they mort⯑gage their country. They have all the merit of volunteers, without riſque of perſon, or charge of contribution; and when the unfeeling arm of a foreign ſoldiery pours out their kindred blood like water, they exult and triumph, as if they themſelves had performed ſome notable exploit.

ARBITRARY POWER.

I ſhould be ſorry, that any thing framed in con⯑tradiction to the ſpirit of our conſtitution, did not [4] inſtantly produce, in fact, the groſſeſt of the evils with which it was pregnant in its nature. It is by lying dormant a long time, or being firſt very rarely exerciſed, that arbitrary power ſteals upon a people. On the next unconſtitutional act, all the faſhionable world will be ready to ſay, Your prophecies are ridiculous, your fears are vain, you ſee how little of the miſchiefs which you formerly foreboded are come to paſs. Thus, by degrees, that artful ſoftening of all arbitrary power, the alledged unfrequency, or narrow extent of its operations, will be received as a ſort of aphoriſm; and Mr. Hume will not be ſingular in telling us, that the felicity of mankind is no more diſturbed by it, than by earthquakes, or thunder, or the more univerſal accidents of nature.—

AMBITION.

GOD has planted in man a ſenſe of ambition, and a ſatisfaction ariſing from the contemplation of his excelling his fellows in ſomething deemed valuable amongſt them. It is this paſſion that drives men to all the ways we ſee in uſe of ſignalizing themſelves, and that tends to make whatever excites in a man the idea of this diſtinction ſo very pleaſant. It has been ſo ſtrong as to make very miſerable men take com⯑fort, that they were ſupreme in miſery; and certain it is, that where we cannot diſtinguiſh ourſelves by ſomething excellent, we begin to take a complacency in ſome ſingular infirmities, follies, or defects of one kind or other. It is on this principle that flattery is ſo prevalent; for flattery is no more than what raiſes in a man's mind an idea of a preference which he has not. Now, whatever, either on good or upon bad grounds, tends to raiſe a man in his own opinion, produces a ſort of ſwelling and triumph, that is ex⯑tremely grateful to the human mind; and this ſwelling [5] is never more perceived, nor operates with more force, than when without danger we are converſant with terrible objects, the mind always claiming to itſelf ſome part of the dignity and importance of the things which it contemplates. Hence proceeds what Longinus has obſerved of that glorying and ſenſe of inward greatneſs, that always fills the reader of ſuch paſſages in poets and orators as are ſublime; it is what every man muſt have felt in himſelf upon ſuch occaſions.—

ARISTOCRACY AND DESPOTISM.

IT is now found, by abundant experience, that an ariſtocracy and a deſpotiſm differ but in name, and that a people who are in general excluded from any ſhare of the legiſlative, are to all intents and purpoſes, as much ſlaves, when twenty, independent of them, govern, as when but one domineers. The tyranny is even more felt, as every individual of the nobles has the haughtineſs of a ſultan; the people are more miſerable, as they ſeem on the verge of liberty, from which they are for ever debarred; this fallacious idea of liberty, whilſt it preſents a vain ſhadow of hap⯑pineſs to the ſubject, binds faſter the chains of his ſubjection. What is left undone, by the natural avarice and pride of thoſe who are raiſed above the others, is compleated by their ſuſpicions, and their dread of loſing an authority, which has no ſupport in the common utility of the nation.

ATHENIAN DEGENERACY DESCRIBED.

THE Athenians made a very rapid progreſs to the moſt enormous exceſſes; the people under no re⯑ſtraint ſoon grew diſſipated, luxurious, and idle. [6] They renounced all labour, and began to ſubſiſt themſelves from the public revenues. They loſt all concern for their common honour or ſafety, and could bear no advice that tended to reform them. At this time truth became offenſive to thoſe lords the people, and moſt highly dangerous to the ſpeaker. The orators no longer aſcended the roſtrum, but to corrupt them further with the moſt fulſome adula⯑tion. Theſe orators were all bribed by foreign princes on the one ſide or the other. And beſides its own parties, in this city there were parties, and avowed ones too, for the Perſians, Spartans, and Mac donians, ſupported each of them by one or more demagogues penſioned and bribed to this iniquitous ſervice. The people, forgetful of all virtue and public ſpirit, and intoxicated with the flatteries of their orators, (theſe courtiers of repub⯑lics, and endowed with the diſtinguiſhing cha⯑racteriſtics of all other courtiers) this people, I ſay, at laſt arrived at that pitch of madneſs, that they coolly and deliberately, by an expreſs law, made it capital for any man to propoſe an application of the immenſe ſums ſquandered in public ſhows, even to the moſt neceſſary purpoſes of the ſtate. When you ſee the people of this republic baniſhing or murdering their beſt and ableſt citizens, diſſipating the public treaſure with the moſt ſenſeleſs extravagance, and ſpending their whole time, as ſpectators or actors, in playing, fiddling, dancing, and ſinging, does it not, my Lord, ſtrike your imagination with the image of a ſort of a complex Nero? And does it not ſtrike you with the greater horror, when you obſerve, not one man only, but a whole city, grown drunk with pride and power, running with a rage of folly into the ſame mean and ſenſeleſs debauchery and extra⯑vagance?

The whole hiſtory of this celebrated republic is but one tiſſue of raſhneſs, folly, ingratitude, injuſtice, [7] tumult, violence, and tyranny; and indeed of every ſpecies of wickedneſs that can well be imagined.—This was a city of wiſe men, in which a miniſter could not exerciſe his functions; a warlike people, amongſt whom a general did not dare either to gain or loſe a battle; a learned nation, in which a philoſopher could not venture on a free inquiry. This was the city which baniſhed Themiſtocles, ſtarved Ariſtides, forced into exile Miltiades, drove out Anaxagoras, and poiſoned Socrates. This was a city which changed the form of its government with the moon; eternal conſpiracies, revolutions daily, nothing fixed and eſtabliſhed. A republic, as an ancient philo⯑ſopher has obſerved, is no one ſpecies of govern⯑ment, but a magazine of every ſpecies; here you find every ſort of it, and that in the worſt form. As there is a perpetual change, one riſing and the other falling, you have all the violence and wicked policy, by which a beginning power muſt always acquire its ſtrength, and all the weakneſs by which falling ſtates are brought to a complete deſtruction.

AMERICAN WAR (EFFECTS OF).

THE act of which I ſpeak is among the fruits of the American war: a war, in my humble opinion, productive of many miſchiefs, of a kind which diſ⯑tinguiſh it from all others. Not only our policy is deranged, and our empire diſtracted, but our laws and our legiſlative ſpirit appear to have been totally perverted by it. We have made war on our colonies, not by arms only, but by laws. As hoſ⯑tility and law are not very concordant ideas, every ſtep we have taken in this buſineſs, has been made by trampling on ſome maxim of juſtice, or ſome capital principle of wiſe government. What pre⯑cedents were eſtabliſhed, and what principles over⯑turned, [8] (I will not ſay of Engliſh privilege but of general juſtice) in the Boſton Port, the Maſſachu⯑ſet's Charter, the Military Bill, and all that long array of hoſtile acts of parliament, by which the war with America has been begun and ſupported! Had the principles of any of theſe acts been firſt exerted on Engliſh ground, they would probably have ex⯑pired as ſoon as they touched it. But by being re⯑moved from our perſons, they have rooted in our laws; and the lateſt poſterity will taſte the fruits of them.

Nor is it the worſt effect of this unnatural con⯑tention, that our laws are corrupted. Whilſt man⯑ners remain intire, they will correct the vices of law, and ſoften it at length to their own temper. But we have to lament, that in moſt of the late proceedings we ſee very few traces of that generoſity, humanity, and dignity of mind which formerly characterized this nation. War ſuſpends the rules of moral obli⯑gation, and what is long ſuſpended is in danger of being totally abrogated. Civil wars ſtrike deepeſt of all into the manners of the people. They vitiate their politics; they corrupt their morals; they per⯑vert even the natural taſte and reliſh of equity and juſtice. By teaching us to conſider our fellow-citizens in an hoſtile light, the whole body of our nation becomes gradually leſs dear to us. The very names of affection and kindred, which were the bond of charity whilſt we agreed, become new in⯑centives to hatred and rage, when the communion of our country is diſſolved. We may flatter our⯑ſelves that we ſhall not fall into this misfortune. But we have no charter of exemption, that I know of, from the ordinary frailties of our nature.

What but that blindneſs of heart which ariſes from the phrenſy of civil contention, could have made any perſons conceive the preſent ſituation of the Britiſh affairs as an object of triumph to themſelves, or of congratulation to their ſovereign? Nothing, [9] ſurely, could be more lamentable to thoſe who re⯑member the flouriſhing days of this kingdom, than to ſee the inſane joy of ſeveral unhappy people, amidſt the ſad ſpectacle which our affairs and con⯑duct exhibit to the ſcorn of Europe. We behold, (and it ſeems ſome people rejoice in beholding) our native land, which uſed to ſit the envied arbiter of all her neighbours, reduced to a ſervile dependence on their mercy; acquieſcing in aſſurances of friend⯑ſhip which ſhe does not truſt; complaining of hoſti⯑lities which ſhe dares not reſent; deficient to her allies; lofty to her ſubjects, and ſubmiſſive to her enemies; whilſt the liberal government of this free nation is ſupported by the hireling ſword of German boors and vaſſals; and three millions of the ſubjects of Great Britain are ſeeking for protection to Engliſh privileges in the arms of France!

Indeed our affairs are in a bad condition. I do aſſure thoſe gentlemen who have prayed for war, and obtained the bleſſing they have ſought, that they are, at this inſtant, in very great ſtraits.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

AMERICAN WAR (MINISTERS WHO CON⯑DUCTED THE).

BELIEVE me, gentlemen, the way ſtill before you is intricate, dark, and full of perplexed and treacherous mazes. Thoſe who think they have the clue, may lead us out of this labyrinth. We may truſt them as amply as we think proper; but as they have moſt certainly a call for all the reaſon which their ſtock can furniſh, why ſhould we think it proper to diſturb its operation by inflaming their paſſions? I may be unable to lend an helping hand to thoſe who direct the ſtate; but I ſhould be aſhamed to make myſelf one of a noiſy multitude to hollow and hearten them into doubtful and dan⯑gerous [10] courſes. A conſcientious man would be cautious how he dealt in blood. He would feel ſome apprehenſion at being called to a tremendous account for engaging in ſo deep a play, without any ſort of knowledge of the game. It is no excuſe for preſumptuous ignorance, that it is directed by inſolence or paſſion. The pooreſt being that crawls on earth, contending to ſave itſelf from notice and oppreſſion, is an object reſpectable in the eyes of God and Man, but I cannot conceive any exiſtence under heaven (which in the depth of its wiſdom tolerates all ſorts of things) that is more odious and diſguſting than an impotent helpleſs creature, without civil wiſdom or military ſkill, without a conſciouſneſs of any other qualification for power but his ſervility to it; bloated with pride and arrogance, calling for battles, which he is not to ſight, contending for a violent dominion, which he can never exerciſe, and ſatisfied to be himſelf mean and miſerable, in order to render others contemptible and wretched.—Ibid.

AMERICAN COWARDICE.

I am really aſhamed of the faſhionable language which has been held for ſome time paſt; which to ſay the beſt of it, is full of levity. You know, that I allude to the general cry againſt the cowardice of the Americans, as if we deſpiſed them for not making the king's ſoldiery purchaſe the advantage they have obtained, at a dearer rate. It is not, gentlemen, it is not, to reſpect the diſpenſations of Providence, nor to provide any decent re⯑treat in the mutability of human affairs. It leaves no medium between inſolent victory and infamous defeat. It tends to alienate our minds further and further from our natural regards, and to make an eternal rent and ſchiſm in the Britiſh nation. Thoſe [11] who do not wiſh for ſuch a ſeparation, would not diſſolve that cement of reciprocal eſteem and regard, which can alone bind together the parts of this great fabric. It ought to be our wiſh, as it is our duty, not only to forbear this ſtyle of outrage ourſelves, but to make every one as ſenſible as we can of the impropriety and unworthineſs of the tempers which give riſe to it, and which deſigning men are labouring with ſuch malignant induſtry to diffuſe amongſt us. It is our buſineſs to counteract them, if poſſible; if poſſible to awake our natural regards; and to revive the old partiality to the Engliſh name. Without ſomething of this kind I do not ſee how it is ever practicable really to recon⯑cile with thoſe, whoſe affection, after all, muſt be the ſureſt hold of our government; and which is a thouſand times more worth to us, than the mer⯑cenary zeal of all the circles of Germany.—Ibid.

AMERICAN WAR (PARTIZANS OF THE).

ALL this rage againſt unreſiſting diſſent, con⯑vinces me, that at bottom, they are far from ſatis⯑fied they are in the right. For what is it they would have? A war? They certainly have at this moment the bleſſing of ſomething that is very like one; and if the war they enjoy at preſent be not ſufficiently hot and extenſive, they may ſhortly have it as warm and as ſpreading as their hearts can deſire. Is it the force of the kingdom they call for? They have it already; and if they chooſe to fight their battles in their own perſon, no body prevents their ſetting ſail to America in the next tranſports. Do they think, that the ſervice is ſtinted for want of liberal ſupplies? Indeed they complain without reaſon. The table of the Houſe of Commons will glut them, let their appetite for expence be never ſo keen. And I aſſure them further, that thoſe who [12] think with them in the Houſe of Commons are full as eaſy in the controul, as they are liberal in the vote of theſe expences. If this be not ſupply or confidence ſufficient, let them open their own pri⯑vate purſe-ſtrings, and give from what is left to them, as largely and with as little care as they think proper.—Ibid.

AMERICAN ASSEMBLIES.

AT the firſt deſignation of theſe aſſemblies, they were probably not intended for any thing more (nor perhap, did they think themſelves much higher) than the municipal corporations within this iſland, to which ſome at preſent love to compare them. But nothing in progreſſion can reſt on its original plan. We may as well think of rocking a grown man in the cradle of an infant. Therefore, as the colonies proſpered and increaſed to a numerous and mighty people, ſpreading over a very great tract of the globe, it was natural that they ſhould attribute to aſſemblies, ſo reſpectable in their formal conſtitution, ſome part of the dignity of the great nations which they repreſented. No longer tied to by-laws, theſe aſſemblies made acts of all ſorts, and in all caſes whatſoever. They levied money, not for parochial purpoſes, but upon regular grants to the crown, following all the rules and principles of a parliament, to which they approached every day more and more nearly. Thoſe who think themſelves wiſer than Providence, and ſtronger than the courſe of nature, may complain of all this variation, on the one ſide or the other, as their ſeveral humours and prejudices may lead them. But things could not be otherwiſe; and Engliſh colonies muſt be had on theſe terms, or not had at all.—Ibid.

AMERICAN WAR (STATE OF ENGLAND AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE.)

I know, and have long felt, the difficulty of reconciling the unwieldy haughtineſs of a great ruling nation, habituated to command, pampered by enormous wealth, and confident from a long courſe of proſperity and victory, to the high ſpirit of free dependencies, animated with the firſt glow and activity of juvenile heat, and aſſuming to them⯑ſelves as their birthright, ſome part of that very pride which oppreſſes them.—Ibid.

AMERICAN WAR (EFFECT OF THE, ON OUR NATIONAL CHARACTER)

THERE never, gentleman, was a period in which the ſtedfaſtneſs of ſome men has been put to ſo ſore a trial. It is not very difficult for well-formed minds to abandon their intereſt; but the ſeparation of ſame and virtue is an harſh divorce. Liberty is in danger of being made unpopular to Engliſhmen. Contending for an imaginary power we begin to acquire the ſpirit of domination and to loſe the reliſh of honeſt equality. The principles of our forefathers become ſuſpected to us, becauſe we ſee them animating the preſent oppoſition of our chil⯑dren. The faults which grow out of the luxuri⯑ance of freedom, appear much more ſhocking to us, than the baſe vices which are generated from the rankneſs of ſervitude. Accordingly the leaſt reſiſtance to power appears more inexcuſable in our eyes than the greateſt abuſes of authority. All dread of a ſtanding military force is looked upon as a ſuperſtitious panic. All ſhame of calling in foreigners and ſavages in a civil conteſt is worn off. We grow indifferent to the conſequences inevitable to ourſelves from the plan of ruling half [14] he empire by a mercenary ſword. We are taught to believe that a deſire of domineering over our countrymen is love to our country; that thoſe who hate civil war abet rebellion, and that the amiable and conciliatory virtues of lenity, moderation, and tenderneſs to the privileges of thoſe who depend on this kingdom are a ſort of treaſon to the ſtate.

It is impoſſible that we ſhould remain long in a ſituation, which breeds ſuch notions and diſpoſitions, without ſome great alteration in the national cha⯑racter. Thoſe ingenuous and feeling minds who are ſo fortified againſt all other things, and ſo un⯑armed to whatever approaches in the ſhape of diſ⯑grace, finding theſe principles, which they conſidered as ſure means of honour to be grown into diſrepute, will retire diſheartened and diſguſted. Thoſe of a more robuſt make, the bold, able, ambitious men, who pay ſome of their court to power through the people, and ſubſtitute the voice of tranſient opinion in the place of true glory, will give into the general mode; and thoſe ſuperior underſtandings which ought to correct vulgar prejudice, will confirm and aggravate its errors. Many things have been long operating towards a gradual change in our principles. But this American war has done more in a very few years than all the other cauſes could have effected in a century. It is therefore not on its own ſeparate account, but becauſe of its attendant circumſtances that I conſider its continuance, or its ending in any way but that of an honourable and liberal accommodation, as the greateſt evils which can befal us.—Ibid.

AMERICA. Effect of the Victory in Long Iſland.

YOU remember, that in the beginning of this American war (that aera of calamity, diſgrace and downfall, an aera which no feeling mind will ever [15] mention without a tear for England) you were greatly divided; and a very ſtrong body, if not the ſtrongeſt, oppoſed itſelf to the madneſs which every art and every power were employed to render popular, in order that the errors of the rulers might be loſt in the general blindneſs of the nation. This oppoſition continued until after our great, but moſt unfortunate victory at Long Iſland. Then all the mounds and banks of our conſtancy were borne down at once; and the phrenſy of the American war broke in upon us like a deluge. This victory, which ſeemed to put an immediate end to all difficulties, perfected us in that ſpirit of domination, which our unparalleled proſperity had but too long nurtured. We had been ſo very powerful, and ſo very proſperous, that even the humbleſt of us were degraded into the vices and follies of kings. We loſt all meaſure between means and ends; and our headlong deſires became our politics and our morals. All men who wiſhed for peace, or retained any ſentiments of mo⯑deration, were overborne or ſilenced; and this city was led by every artifice (and probably with the more management, becauſe I was one of your mem⯑bers) to diſtinguiſh itſelf by its zeal for that fatal cauſe. In this temper of yours and of my mind, I ſhould have ſooner fled to the extremities of the earth, than have ſhewn myſelf here. I, who ſaw in every American victory (for you have had a long ſeries of theſe misfortunes) the germ and ſeed of the naval power of France and Spain, which all our heat and warmth againſt America was only hatching into life, I ſhould not have been a welcome viſitant with the brow and the language of ſuch feelings.

When afterwards, the other face of your calamity was turned upon you, and ſhewed itſelf in defeat and diſtreſs, I ſhunned you full as much. I felt ſorely this variety in our wretchedneſs; and I did not wiſh to have the leaſt appearance of inſulting you with that ſhew of ſuperiority, which, though it [16] may not be aſſumed, is generally ſuſpected in a time of calamity, from thoſe whoſe previous warnings have been deſpiſed. I could not bear to ſhew you a repreſentative whoſe face did not reflect that of his conſtituents; a face that could not joy in your joys, and ſorrow in your ſorrows. But time at length has made us all of one opinion; and we have all opened our eyes on the true nature of the American war, to the true nature of all its ſucceſſes and all its failures.—

AMERICA. Propoſition of Peace with America.

THE propoſition is peace. Not peace through the medium of war; not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endleſs negociations; not peace to ariſe out of univerſal diſcord, fomented, from principle, in all parts of the empire; not peace to depend on the juridical determination of per⯑plexing queſtions; or the preciſe marking the ſhadowy boundaries of a complex government. It is ſimply peace; ſought in its natural courſe, and its ordinary haunts.—It is peace ſought in the ſpirit of peace; and laid in principles purely pacific. I propoſe, by removing the ground of the difference, and by reſtoring the former unſuſpecting confidence of the colonies in the mother country, to give permanent ſatisfaction to your people; and (far from a ſcheme of ruling by diſcord) to reconcile them to each other in the ſame act, and by the bond of the very ſame intereſt, which reconciles them to Britiſh go⯑vernment.

My idea is nothing more. Refined policy ever has been the parent of confuſion; and ever will be ſo, as long as the world endures. Plain good inten⯑tion, which is as eaſily diſcovered at the firſt view, as fraud is ſurely detected at laſt, is, let me ſay, of no mean force in the government of mankind. Ge⯑nuine [17] ſimplicity of heart is an healing and cementing principle. My plan, therefore, being formed upon the moſt ſimple grounds imaginable, may diſappoint ſome people, when they hear it. It has nothing to recommend it to the pruriency of curious ears. There is nothing at all new and captivating in it. It has nothing of the ſplendor of the project, which has been lately laid upon your table by the noble lord in the blue ribband.^* It does not propoſe to fill your lobby with ſquabbling colony agents, who will require the interpoſition of your mace, at every inſtant, to keep the peace amongſt them. It does not inſtitute a magnificent auction of finance, where captivated provinces come to general ranſom by bidding againſt each other, until you knock down the hammer, and determine a proportion of pay⯑ments, beyond all the powers of algebra to equalize and ſettle.

AMERICA. Rapid Population of the Colonies.

THE firſt thing that we have to conſider with regard to the nature of the object is—the number of people in the colonies. I have taken for ſome years a good deal of pains on that point. I can by no cal⯑culation juſtify myſelf in placing the number below two millions of inhabitants of our own European blood and colour; beſides at leaſt 500,000 others, who form no inconſiderable part of the ſtrength and opulence of the whole. This, Sir, is, I believe, about the true number. There is no occaſion to exaggerate, where plain truth is of ſo much weight and importance.

But whether I put the preſent numbers too high or too low, is a matter of little moment. Such is the ſtrength with which population ſhoots in that part of the world, that ſtate the numbers as high as we will, whilſt the diſpute continues, the exaggeration ends. Whilſt we are diſcuſſing any given magnitude, they are grown to it. Whilſt we ſpend our time in deli⯑berating on the mode of governing two millions, we ſhall find we have millions more to manage. Your children do not grow faſter from infancy to man⯑hood, than they ſpread from families to communities, and from villages to nations.—Ibid.

STRENGTH OF THAT POPULATION.

I put this conſideration of the preſent and the growing numbers in the front of our deliberation; becauſe, Sir, this conſideration will make it evident to a blunter diſcernment than yours, that no partial, narrow, contracted, pinched, occaſional ſyſtem will be at all ſuitable to ſuch an object. It will ſhew you, that it is not to be conſidered as one of thoſe minima which are out of the eye and conſideration of the law; not a paltry excreſcence of the ſtate; not a [19] mean dependant, who may be neglected with little damage, and provoked with little danger. It will prove, that ſome degree of care and caution is re⯑quired in the handling ſuch an object; it will ſhew, that you ought not, in reaſon, to trifle with ſo large a maſs of the intereſts and feelings of the human race. You could at no time do ſo without guilt; and be aſſured you will not be able to do it long with impunity.—Ibid.

AMERICA. Commerce with our American Colonies.

WHEN we ſpeak of the commerce with our colo⯑nies, fiction lags after truth, invention is unfruitful, and imagination cold and barren.—Ibid.

IMPORTS FROM AMERICA.

IF I were to detail the imports, I could ſhew how many enjoyments they procure, which deceive the burthen of life; how many materials which invigo⯑rate the ſprings of national induſtry, and extend and animate every part of our foreign and domeſtic commerce.—Ibid.

AMERICAN AGRICULTURE.

I paſs therefore to the colonies in another point of view, their agriculture. This they have proſecuted with ſuch a ſpirit, that beſides feeding plentifully their own growing multitude, their annual export of grain, comprehending rice, has ſome years ago ex⯑ceeded a million in value. Of their laſt harveſt, I am perſuaded they will export much more. At the beginning of the century, ſome of theſe colonies imported corn from the northern country. For ſome time paſt the old world has been fed from the new. The ſcarcity which you have felt would have been a [20] deſolating famine. That if this child of your old age, with a true filial piety, with a Roman charity, had not put the full breaſt of its youthful exuberance to the mouth of its exhauſted parent.—

AMERICAN FISHERIES.

AS to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from the ſea by their fiſheries, you had all that matter fully opened at your bar. You ſurely thought thoſe acquiſitions of value; for they ſeemed even to excite your envy; and yet the ſpirit, by which that enter⯑prizing employment has been exerciſed, ought rather, in my opinion, to have raiſed your eſteem and admi⯑ration. And pray, Sir, what in the world is equal to it? Paſs by the other parts, and look at the manner in which the people of New England have of late carried on the whale fiſhery. Whilſt we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepeſt frozen receſſes of Hudſon's Bay, and Davis's Streights, whilſt we are looking for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they have pierced into the oppoſite region of polar cold, that they are at the antipodes, and en⯑gaged under the frozen ſerpent of the ſouth. Falk⯑land Iſland, which ſeemed too remote and romantic an object for the graſp of national ambition, is but a ſtage and reſting-place in the progreſs of their vic⯑torious induſtry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more diſcouraging to them, than the accumulated winter of both the poles. We know that whilſt ſome of them draw the line and ſtrike the harpoon on the coaſt of Africa, others run the longitude, and purſue their gigantic game along the coaſt of Brazil. No ſea but what is vexed by their fiſheries. No climate that is not witneſs to their toils. Neither the perſeverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and firm ſagacity of Engliſh enterprize, ever carried this moſt perilous mode of hardy in⯑duſtry [21] to the extent to which it has been puſhed by this recent people; a people who are ſtill, as it were, but in the griſtle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood. When I contemplate theſe things; when I know that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and that they are not ſqueezed into this happy form by the conſtraints of watchful and ſuſpicious government, but that through a wiſe and ſalutary neglect, a generous nature has been ſuffered to take her own way to perfection: when I reflect upon theſe effects, when I ſee how profitable they have been to us, I feel all the pride of power ſink, and all preſumption in the wiſdom of human contrivances melt, and die away within me. My rigour relents. I pardon ſomething to the ſpirit of liberty.—

AMERICANS. Love of Freedom.

IN this character of the Americans a love of freedom is the predominating feature, which marks and diſtinguiſhes the whole: and as an ardent is al⯑ways a jealous affection, your colonies become ſuſ⯑picious, reſtive, and untractable, whenever they ſee the leaſt attempt to wreſt from them by force, or ſhuffle from them by chicane, what they think the only advantage worth living for. This fierce ſpirit of liberty is ſtronger in the Engliſh colonies probably than in any other people of the earth; and this from a great variety of powerful cauſes; which, to under⯑ſtand the true temper of their minds, and the direc⯑tion which this ſpirit takes, it will not be amiſs to lay open ſomewhat more largely.—Ibid.

AMERICAN DESCENT.

FIRST, the people of the colonies are deſcendants of England. England, Sir, is a nation, which ſtill [22] I hope reſpects, and formerly adored, her freedom. The coloniſts emigrated from you, when this part of your character was moſt predominant; and they took this biaſs and direction the moment they parted from your hands. They are therefore not only devoted to liberty, but to liberty according to Engliſh ideas, and on Engliſh principles. Abſtract liberty, like other mere abſtractions, is not to be found. Liberty inheres in ſome ſenſible object; and every nation has formed to itſelf ſome favourite point, which by way of eminence becomes the criterion of their happineſs. It happened, you know, Sir, that the great conteſts for freedom in this country were from the earlieſt times chiefly upon the queſtion of taxing. Moſt of the conteſts in the antient commonwealths turned pri⯑marily on the right of election of magiſtrates; or on the balance among the ſeveral orders of the ſtate. The queſtion of money was not with them ſo imme⯑diate. But in England it was otherwiſe. On this point of taxes the ableſt pens, and moſt eloquent tongues, have been exerciſed; the greateſt ſpirits have acted and ſuffered. In order to give the fulleſt ſatisfaction concerning the importance of this point, it was not only neceſſary for thoſe who in argument defended the excellence of the Engliſh conſtitution, to inſiſt on this privilege of granting money as a dry point of fact, and to prove, that the right had been acknowledged in antient parchments, and blind uſages, to reſide in a certain body called an houſe of commons. They went much further; they attempted to prove, and they ſucceeded, that in theory it ought to be ſo, from the particular nature of a houſe of commons, as an immediate repreſentative of the peo⯑ple; whether the old records had delivered this oracle or not. They took infinite pains to inculcate, as a fundamental principle, that, in all monarchies, the people muſt in effect themſelves mediately or im⯑mediately poſſeſs the power of granting their own money, or no ſhadow of liberty could ſubſiſt. The [23] colonies draw from you, as with their life-blood, theſe ideas and principles. Their love of liberty, as with you, fixed and attached on this ſpecific point of taxing. Liberty might be ſafe, or might be endan⯑gered in twenty other particulars, without their being much pleaſed or alarmed. Here they felt its pulſe; and as they found that beat, they thought themſelves ſick or ſound. I do not ſay whether they were right or wrong in applying your general arguments to their own caſe. It is not eaſy indeed to make a monopoly of theorems and corollaries. The fact is, that they did thus apply thoſe general arguments; and your mode of governing them, whether through lenity or indolence, through wiſdom or miſtake, confirmed them in the imagination, that they, as well as you, had an intereſt in theſe common principles.—Ibid.

AMERICAN GOVERNMENT.

THEY were further confirmed in this pleaſing error by the form of their provincial legiſlative aſ⯑ſemblies. Their governments are popular in an high degree; ſome are merely popular; in all, the popular repreſentative is the moſt weighty; and this ſhare of the people in their ordinary government never fails to inſpire them with loſty ſentiments, and with a ſtrong averſion from whatever tends to deprive them of their chief importance.—Ibid.

AMERICAN RELIGION.

IF any thing were wanting to this neceſſary opera⯑tion of the form of government, religion would have given it a complete effect. Religion, always a prin⯑ciple of energy, in this new people, is no way worn out or impaired; and their mode of profeſſing it is alſo one main cauſe of this free ſpirit. The people are proteſtants, and of that kind, which is the moſt adverſe to all implicit ſubmiſſion of mind and opi⯑nion. [24] This is a perſuaſion not only favourable to liberty, but built upon it. I do not think, Sir, that the reaſon of this averſeneſs in the diſſenting churches from all that looks like abſolute government is ſo much to be ſought in their religious tenets, as in their hiſtory.—

AMERICAN EDUCATION.

PERMIT me, Sir, to add another circumſtance in our colonies, which contributes no mean part to⯑wards the growth and effect of this untractable ſpirit. I mean their education. In no country perhaps in the world is the law ſo general a ſtudy. The profeſ⯑ſion itſelf is numerous and powerful; and in moſt provinces it takes the lead. The greater number of the deputies ſent to the congreſs were lawyers. But all who read, and moſt do read, endeavour to obtain ſome ſmattering in that ſcience. I have been told by an eminent bookſeller, that in no branch of his buſineſs, after tracts of public devotion, were ſo many books as thoſe on the law exported to the plan⯑tations. The coloniſts have now fallen into the way of printing them for their own uſe. I hear that they have ſold nearly as many of Blackſtone's Commenta⯑ries in America as in England. General Gage marks out this diſpoſition very particularly in a letter on your table. He ſtates, that all the people in his go⯑vernment are lawyers, or ſmatterers in law, and that in Boſton they have been enabled, by ſucceſsful chicane, wholly to evade many parts of one of your capital penal conſtitutions. The ſmartneſs of debate will ſay, that this knowledge ought to teach them more clearly the rights of legiſlature, their obliga⯑tions to obedience, and the penalties of rebellion. All this is mighty well. But my ^* honourabe and learned friend on the floor, who condeſcends to mark [25] what I ſay for animadverſion, will diſdain that ground. He has heard, as well as I, that when great honours and great emoluments do not win over this knowledge to the ſervice of the ſtate, it is a formi⯑dable adverſary to government. If the ſpirit be not tamed and broken by theſe happy methods, it is ſtub⯑born and litigious. Abeunt ſtudia in mores. This ſtudy renders men acute, inquiſitive, dexterous, prompt in attack, ready in defence, full of reſources. In other countries, the people, more ſimple and of a leſs mercurial caſt, judge of an ill principle in go⯑vernment only by an actual grievance; here they an⯑ticipate the evil, and judge of the preſſure of the grievance by the badneſs of the principle. They augur miſgovernment at a diſtance; and ſnuff the approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze.—Ibid.

REMOTENESS OF SITUATION FROM THE FIRST MOVER OF GOVERNMENT.

THE laſt cauſe of this diſobedient ſpirit in the co⯑lonies is hardly leſs powerful than the reſt, as it is not merely moral, but laid deep in the natural conſti⯑tution of things. Three thouſand miles of ocean lie between you and them. No contrivance can prevent the effect of this diſtance, in weakening government. Seas roll, and months paſs, between the order and the execution: and the want of a ſpeedy explanation of a ſingle point, is enough to defeat an whole ſyſtem. You have, indeed, winged miniſters of vengeance, who carry your bolts in their pounces to the remoteſt verge of the ſea. But there a power ſteps in, that limits the arrogance of raging paſſions and furious elements, and ſays, ‘"So far ſhalt thou go, and no farther."’ Who are you, that ſhould fret and rage, and bite the chains of nature?—Nothing worſe happens to you, than does to all nations, who have extenſive empire; and it happens in all the forms into which empire can be thrown. In large [26] bodies, the circulation of power muſt be leſs vigor⯑ous at the extremities. Nature has ſaid it. The Turk cannot govern Aegypt, and Arabia, and Cur⯑diſtan, as he governs Thrace; nor has he the ſame dominion in Crimea and Algiers, which he has at Bruſa and Smyrna. Deſpotiſm itſelf is obliged to truck and huckſter. The Sultan gets ſuch obedience as he can. He governs with a looſe rein, that he may govern at all; and the whole of the force and vigour of his authority in his centre, is derived from a prudent relaxation in all his borders. Spain, in her provinces, is, perhaps, not ſo well obeyed, as you are in yours. She complies too; ſhe ſubmits; ſhe watches times. This is the immutable condition; the eternal law of extenſive and detached empire.—Ibid.

AMERICA (PLAN TO CHECK THE POPULATION OF THE COLONIES).

AS the growing population in the colonies is evi⯑dently one cauſe of their reſiſtance, it was laſt ſeſſion mentioned in both houſes, by men of weight, and received not without applauſe, that, in order to check this evil, it would be proper for the crown to make no further grants of land. But to this ſcheme, there are two objections. The firſt, that there is already ſo much unſettled land in private hands, as to afford room for an immenſe future population, although the crown not only withheld its grants, but annihilated its ſoil. If this be the caſe, then the only effect of this avarice of deſolation, this hoarding of a royal wilderneſs, would be to raiſe the value of the poſſeſſions in the hands of the great private monopoliſts, without any adequate check to the growing and alarming miſchief of population.

But, if you ſtopped your grants, what would be the conſequence? The people would occupy with⯑out grants. They have already ſo occupied in many [27] places. You cannot ſtation garriſons in every part of theſe deſerts. If you drive the people from one place, they will carry on their annual tillage, and remove with their flocks and herds to another. Many of the people in the back ſettlements are already little attached to particular ſituations. Already they have topped the Apalachian mountains. From thence they behold before them an immenſe plain, one vaſt, rich, level meadow; a ſquare of five hundred miles. Over this they would wander, without a poſſibility of reſtraint; they would change their manners with the habits of their life; would ſoon forget a govern⯑ment, by which they were diſowned; would become hordes of Engliſh Tartars; and, pouring down upon your unfortified frontiers a fierce and irreſiſtible cavalry, become maſters of your governors and your counſellors, your collectors and comptrollers, and of all the ſlaves that adhered to them. Such would, and, in no long time, muſt be, the effect of attempt⯑ing to forbid as a crime, and to ſuppreſs as an evil, the command and bleſſing of Providence, ‘"En⯑creaſe and multiply."’ Such would be the happy reſult of an endeavour to keep as a lair of wild beaſts, that earth, which God, by an expreſs char⯑ter, has given to the children of men.—Ibid.

AMERICA (THE OCEAN.)

BUT let us ſuppoſe all theſe moral difficulties got over. The ocean remains. You cannot pump this dry; and as long as it continues in its preſent bed, ſo long all the cauſes which weaken authority by diſtance will continue. ‘"Ye gods, annihilate but ſpace and time, and make two lovers happy!"’ —was a pious and paſſionate prayer;—but juſt as reaſonable, as many of the ſerious wiſhes of very grave and ſolemn politicians.—Ibid.

AMERICA. Conduct of Miniſters with Reſpect to the Repeal of the American Stamp Act.

IT is not a pleaſant conſideration; but nothing in the world can read ſo awful and ſo inſtructive a leſſon, as the conduct of miniſtry in this buſineſs, upon the miſchief of not having large and liberal ideas in the management of great affairs. Never have the ſervants of the ſtate looked at the whole of your complicated intereſts in one connected view. They have taken things, by bits and ſcraps, ſome at one time and one pretence, and ſome at another, juſt as they preſſed, without any ſort of regard to their relations or dependencies. They never had any kind of ſyſtem, right or wrong; but only invented occa⯑ſionally ſome miſerable tale for the day, in order meanly to ſneak out of difficulties, into which they had proudly ſtrutted. And they were put to all theſe ſhifts and devices, full of meanneſs and full of miſchief, in order to pilfer piecemeal a repeal of an act, which they had not the generous courage, when they found and felt their error, honourably and fairly to diſclaim. By ſuch management, by the irreſiſtible operation of feeble councils, ſo paltry a ſum as three-pence in the eyes of a financier, ſo inſignificant an article as tea in the eyes of a philo⯑ſopher, have ſhaken the pillars of a commercial em⯑pire that circled the whole globe.—Speech on American Taxation.

AMERICAN TAX ON TEA.

IT is through the American trade of tea that your Eaſt India conqueſts are to be prevented from cruſh⯑ing you with their burthen. They are ponderous indeed; and they muſt have that great country to lean upon, or they tumble upon your head. It is the ſame folly that has loſt you at once the benefit of the weſt and of the eaſt. This folly has thrown open [29] folding-doors to contraband; and will be the means of giving the profits of the trade of your colonies, to every nation but yourſelves. Never did a people ſuffer ſo much for the empty words of a preamble. It muſt be given up. For on what principle does it ſtand? This famous revenue ſtands, at this hour, on all the debate, as a deſcription of revenue not as yet known in all the comprehenſive (but too com⯑prehenſive!) vocabulary of finance—a preambulary tax. It is indeed a tax of ſophiſtry, a tax of pedan⯑try, a tax of diſputation, a tax of war and rebellion, a tax for any thing but benefit to the impoſers, or ſatisfaction to the ſubject.—Ibid.

AMERICA (FEELINGS OF THE COLONIES.)

THE feelings of the colonies were formerly the feelings of Great Britain. Theirs were formerly the feelings of Mr. Hampden when called upon for the payment of twenty ſhillings. Would twenty ſhillings have ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune? No; but the payment of half twenty ſhillings, on the principle it was demanded, would have made him a ſlave. It is the weight of that preamble, of which you are ſo fond, and not the weight of the duty, that the Ame⯑ricans are unable and unwilling to bear.—Ibid.

AMERICA (HOUSE OF COMMONS.)

IT was in America that your reſolutions were pre-declared. It was from thence that we knew to a certainty, how much exactly, and not a ſcruple more or leſs, we were to repeal. We were unworthy to be let into the ſecret of our own conduct. The aſſemblies had confidential communications from his majeſty's confidential ſervants. We were nothing but inſtruments. Do you, after this, wonder, that you have no weight and no reſpect in the colonies? After this, are you ſurprized, that parliament is every [30] day and every where loſing (I feel it with ſorrow, I utter it with reluctance) that reverential affection, which ſo endearing a name of authority ought ever to carry with it; that you are obeyed ſolely from reſpect to the bayonet; and that this houſe, the ground and pillar of freedom, is itſelf held up only by the treacherous under-pinning and clumſy buttreſſes of arbitrary power?—

AMERICA (FALSE STATEMENTS.)

IT is remarkable, Sir, that the perſons who for⯑merly trumpeted forth the moſt loudly, the violent reſolutions of aſſemblies; the univerſal inſurrections; the ſeizing and burning the ſtamped papers; the forcing ſtamp officers to reſign their commiſſions under the gallows; the rifling and pulling down of the houſes of magiſtrates; and the expulſion from their country of all who dared to write or ſpeak a ſingle word in defence of the powers of parliament; theſe very trumpeters are now the men that repreſent the whole as a mere trifle; and chooſe to date all the diſturbances from the repeal of the ſtamp act, which put an end to them. Hear your officers abroad, and let them refute this ſhameleſs falſehood, who, in all their correſpondence, ſtate the diſturb⯑ances as owing to their true cauſes, the diſcontent of the people, from the taxes. You have this evi⯑dence in your own archives—and it will give you compleat ſatisfaction; if you are not ſo far loſt to all parliamentary ideas of information, as rather to cre⯑dit the lie of the day, than the records of your own houſe.

Sir, this vermin of court reporters, when they are forced into day upon one point, are ſure to burrow in another, but they ſhall have no refuge: I will make them bolt out of all their holes. Conſcious that they muſt be baffled, when they attribute a pre⯑cedent diſturbance to a ſubſequent meaſure, they [31] take other ground, almoſt as abſurd, but very com⯑mon in modern practice, and very wicked; which is, to attribute the ill effect of ill-judged conduct to the arguments which had been uſed to diſſuade us from it. They ſay, that the oppoſition made in parliament to the ſtamp act at the time of its paſſing, encouraged the Americans to their reſiſtance. This has even formally appeared in print in a regular volume, from an advocate of that faction, a Dr. Tucker. This Dr. Tucker is already a dean, and his earneſt labours in his vineyard will, I ſuppoſe, raiſe him to a biſhop⯑ric.—Ibid.

AMERICA (LENITY TO.)

FOR my own part, I ſhould chuſe (If I could have my wiſh) that the propoſition of the Honour⯑able Gentleman (Mr. Fuller) for the repeal, could go to America without the attendance of the penal bills. Alone I could almoſt anſwer for its ſucceſs. I cannot be certain of its reception in the bad com⯑pany it may keep. In ſuch heterogeneous aſſort⯑ments, the moſt innocent perſon will loſe the effect of his innocency. Though you ſhould ſend out this angel of peace, yet you are ſending out a deſtroying angel too; and what would be the effect of the con⯑flict of theſe two adverſe ſpirits, or which would pre⯑dominate in the end, is what I dare not ſay: whether the lenient meaſures would cauſe American paſſion to ſubſide, or the ſevere would increaſe its fury—All this is in the hand of Providence; yet now, even now, I ſhould confide in the prevailing virtue, and efficacious operation of lenity, though working in darkneſs, and in chaos, in the midſt of all this unna⯑tural and turbid combination. I ſhould hope it might produce order and beauty in the end.—Ibid.

AMERICAN TAXATION.

LET us, Sir, embrace ſome ſyſtem or other before we end this ſeſſion. Do you mean to tax America, [32] and to draw a productive revenue from thence? If you do, ſpeak out: name, fix, aſcertain this revenue; ſettle its quantity; define its objects; provide for its collection; and then fight when you have ſomething to fight for. If you murder—rob! If you kill, take poſſeſſion: and do not appear in the character of madmen, as well as aſſaſſins, violent, vindictive, bloody, and tyrannical, without an object. But may better counſels guide you!—

AMERICAN REPRESENTATION.

A noble lord, (Carmarthen) who ſpoke ſome time ago, is full of the fire of ingenuous youth; and when he has modelled the ideas of a lively imagina⯑tion by further experience, he will be an ornament to his country in either houſe. He has ſaid, that the Americans are our children, and how can they revolt againſt their parent? He ſays, that if they are not free in their preſent ſtate, England is not free; becauſe Mancheſter, and other conſiderable places, are not repreſented. So then, becauſe ſome towns in Eng⯑land are not repreſented, America is to have no re⯑preſentative at all. They are ‘"our children;"’ but when children aſk for bread, we are not to give a ſtone. It is becauſe the natural reſiſtance of things, and the various mutations of time, hinders our go⯑vernment, or any ſcheme of government, from being any more than a ſort of approximation to the right, is it therefore that the colonies are to recede from it infinitely? When this child of ours wiſhes to aſſimi⯑late to its parent, and to reflect with a true filial re⯑ſemblance the beauteous countenance of Britiſh li⯑berty; are we to turn to them the ſhameful parts of our conſtitution? are we to give them our weakneſs for their ſtrength; our opprobrium for their glory; and the ſlough of ſlavery, which we are not able to work off, to ſerve them for their freedom?

If this be the caſe, aſk yourſelves this queſtion, Will they be content in ſuch a ſtate of ſlavery? If [33] not, look to the conſequences. Reflect how you are to govern a people, who think they ought to be free, and think they are not. Your ſcheme yields no reve⯑nue; it yields nothing but diſcontent, diſorder, diſ⯑obedience; and ſuch is the ſtate of America, that after wading up to your eyes in blood, you could only end juſt where you begun; that is, to tax where no revenue is to be found, to—my voice fails me; my inclination, indeed, carries me no further—all is confuſion beyond it.

Well, Sir, I have recovered a little, and before I ſit down I muſt ſay ſomething to another point with which gentlemen urge us. What is to become of the declaratory act, aſſerting the entireneſs of Britiſh legiſlative authority, if we abandon the practice of taxation?

For my part I look upon the rights ſtated in that act, exactly in the manner in which I viewed them on its very firſt propoſition, and which I have often taken the liberty, with great humility, to lay before you. I look, I ſay, on the imperial rights of Great Britain, and the privileges which the coloniſts ought to enjoy under theſe rights, to be juſt the moſt re⯑concileable things in the world. The parliament of Great Britain ſits at the head of her extenſive em⯑pire in two capacities: one as the local legiſlature of this iſland, providing for all things at home, immedi⯑ately, and by no other inſtrument than the executive power.—The other, and I think her nobler capacity, is what I call her imperial character; in which, as from the throne of heaven, ſhe ſuperintends all the ſeveral inferior legiſlatures, and guides, and controls them all without annihilating any. As all theſe pro⯑vincial legiſlatures are only co-ordinate to each other, they ought all to be ſubordinate to her; elſe they can neither preſerve mutual peace, nor hope for mu⯑tual juſtice, nor effectually afford mutual aſſiſtance. It is neceſſary to coerce the negligent, to reſtrain the violent, and to aid the weak and deficient, by [34] the over-ruling plenitude of her power. She is ne⯑ver to intrude into the place of the others, whilſt they are equal to the common ends of their inſtitu⯑tion. But in order to enable parliament to anſwer all theſe ends of provident and beneficient ſuperin⯑tendance, her powers muſt be boundleſs.—Ibid.

ANGLES.

INDEED there is nothing more prejudicial to the grandeur of buildings, than to abound in angles; a fault obvious in many; and owing to an inordinate thirſt for variety, which, whenever it prevails, is ſure to leave very little true taſte.—Sublime and Beautiful.

ARTIST.

A true artiſt ſhould put a generous deceit on the ſpectators, and effect the nobleſt deſigns by eaſy me⯑thods.—Ibid.

ART.

NO work of art can he great, but as it deceives; to be otherwiſe is the prerogative of nature only. A good eye will fix the medium betwixt an exceſſive length or heighth (for the ſame objection lies againſt both), and a ſhort or broken quantity: and perhaps it might be aſcertained to a tolerable degree of ex⯑actneſs, if it was my purpoſe to deſcend far into the particulars of any art.—Ibid.

ANIMALS (CRIES OF.)

SUCH ſounds as imitate the natural inarticulate voices of men, or any animals in pain or danger, are capable of conveying great ideas; unleſs it be the well-known voice of ſome creature, on which we are uſed to look with contempt. The angry tones of wild beaſts are equally capable of cauſing a great and awful ſenſation.

It might ſeem that theſe modulations of ſound carry ſome connection with the nature of the things they repreſent, and are not merely arbitrary; becauſe the natural cries of all animals, even of thoſe animals with whom we have not been acquainted, never fail to make themſelves ſufficiently underſtood; this can⯑not be ſaid of language. The modifications of ſound, which may be productive of the ſublime, are almoſt infinite. Thoſe I have mentioned, are only a few inſtances to ſhew on what principles they are all built.—Ibid.

ALLY.

THERE are very few in the world who will not prefer an uſeful ally to an inſolent maſter.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

AGE (CHARACTER OF.)

NEVER expecting to find perfection in men, and not looking for divine attributes in created beings, in my commerce with my cotemporaries, I have found much human virtue. I have ſeen not a little public ſpirit; a real ſubordination of intereſt to duty; and a decent and regulated ſenſibility to honeſt fame and reputation. The age unqueſtionable produces (whe⯑ther in a greater or leſs number than former times, I know not) daring profligates, and inſidious hypo⯑crites. What then? Am I not to avail myſelf of whatever good is to be found in the world, becauſe of the mixture of evil that will always be in it? The ſmallneſs of the quantity in currency only heightens the value. They, who raiſe ſuſpicions on the good on account of the behaviour of ill men, are of the party of the latter.—Ibid.

ACTION AND MOTIVES.

VIRTUE will catch as well as vice by contact; and the public ſtock of honeſt manly principle will daily accumulate. We are not too nicely to ſcruti⯑nize motives as long as action is irreproachable. It is enough, (and for a worthy man perhaps too much) to deal out its infamy to convicted guilt and declared apoſtacy.—Ibid.

ADMINISTRATION. Conſequences of an exterior Adminiſtration.

AN exterior adminiſtration, choſen for its impo⯑tency, or after it is choſen purpoſely rendered impo⯑tent, in order to be rendered ſubſervient, will not be obeyed. The laws themſelves will not be reſpected, when thoſe who execute them are deſpiſed; and they will be deſpiſed, when their power is not immediate from the crown, or natural in the kingdom. Never were miniſters better ſupported in parliament. Par⯑liamentary ſupport comes and goes with office, totally regardleſs of the man or the merit. Is government ſtrengthened? It grows weaker and weaker. The popular torrent gains upon it every hour. Let us learn from our experience. It is not ſupport that is wanting to government, but reformation. When mi⯑niſtry reſts upon public opinion, it is not, indeed, built upon a rock of adamant; it has, however, ſome ſtability. But when it ſtands upon private humour, its ſtructure is of ſtubble, and its foundation is on quickſand. I repeat it again—He that ſupports every adminiſtration, ſubverts all government. The reaſon is this: The whole buſineſs in which a court uſually takes an intereſt goes on at preſent equally well, in whatever hands, whether high or low, wiſe or fooliſh, ſcandalous or reputable; there is nothing, therefore, to hold it firm to any one body of men, or to any one conſiſtent ſcheme of politics. Nothing interpoſes, to prevent the full operation of all the [37] caprices and all the paſſions of a court upon the ſer⯑vants of the public. The ſyſtem of adminiſtration is open to continual ſhocks and changes, upon the principles of the meaneſt cabal, and the moſt con⯑temptible intrigue. Nothing can be ſolid and per⯑manent. All good men, at length, ſly with horror from ſuch a ſervice. Men of rank and ability, with the ſpirit which ought to animate ſuch men in a free ſtate, while they decline the juriſdiction of dark cabal on their actions and their fortunes, will, for both, chearfully put themſelves upon their country. They will truſt an inquiſitive and diſtinguiſhing parliament; becauſe it does enquire, and does diſtinguiſh. If they act well, they know, that in ſuch a parliament, they will be ſupported againſt any intrigue; if they act ill, they know that no intrigue can protect them. This ſituation, however awful, is honourable. But in one hour, and in the ſelf-ſame aſſembly, without any aſſigned or aſſignable cauſe, to be precipitated from the higheſt authority to the moſt marked neg⯑lect, poſſibly into the greateſt peril of life and repu⯑tation, is a ſituation full of danger, and deſtitute of honour. It will be ſhunned equally by every man of prudence, and every man of ſpirit.—Cauſe of the Diſcontents of the Nation.

ACQUISITION OF PROPERTY.

TO be enabled to acquire, the people, without being ſervile, muſt be tractable and obedient. The magiſtrate muſt have his reverence, the laws their authority. The body of the people muſt not find the principles of natural ſubordination by art rooted out of their minds. They muſt reſpect that property of which they cannot partake. They muſt labour to obtain what by labour can be obtained; and when they find, as they commonly do, the ſucceſs diſpro⯑portioned to the endeavour, they muſt be taught their conſolation in the final proportions of eternal [38] juſtice. Of this conſolation, whoever deprives them, deadens their induſtry, and ſtrikes at the root of all acquiſition as of all conſervation. He that does this is the cruel oppreſſor, the mercileſs enemy of the poor and wretched; at the ſame time that by his wicked ſpeculations he expoſes the fruits of ſucceſs⯑ful induſtry, and the accumulations of fortune, to the plunder of the negligent, the diſappointed, and the unproſperous.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

ASSIGNATS.

THE aſſembly took no notice of his recommenda⯑tion. They were in this dilemma—If they continued to receive the aſſignats, caſh muſt become an alien to their treaſury: If the treaſury ſhould refuſe thoſe paper amulets, or ſhould diſcountenance them in any degree, they muſt deſtroy the credit of their ſole re⯑ſource. They ſeem, then, to have made their option; and to have given ſome ſort of credit to their paper by taking it themſelves; at the ſame time in their ſpeeches they made a ſort of ſwaggering declaration, ſomething, I rather think, above legiſlative compe⯑tence; that is, that there is no difference in value be⯑tween metallic money and their aſſignats. This was a good ſtout proof article of faith, pronounced under an anathema, by the venerable fathers of this phi⯑loſophic ſynod. Credat who will—certainly not Ju⯑doeus Appella.—Ibid.

ATHEISM.

WE know, and it is our pride to know, that man is by his conſtitution a religious animal; that atheiſm is againſt, not only our reaſon but our inſtincts; and that it cannot prevail long.—Ibid.

ABUSES.

CONTROULED depravity is not innocence; and that it is not the labour of delinquency in chains, [39] that will correct abuſes. Never did a ſerious plan of amending of any old tyrannical eſtabliſhment pro⯑poſe the authors and abettors of the abuſes as the reformers of them.—Speech on Mr. Fox's Eaſt India Bill.

BEAUTY DEFINED.

BY beauty I mean that quality, or thoſe qualities in bodies, by which they cauſe love, or ſome paſſion ſimilar to it. I confine this definition to the merely ſenſible qualities of things, for the ſake of preſerving the utmoſt ſimplicity in a ſubject which muſt always diſtract us, whenever we take in thoſe various cauſes of ſympathy which attach us to any perſons or things from ſecondary conſiderations, and not from the direct force which they have merely on being viewed.—Sublime and Beautiful.

BEAUTY.

THE paſſion which belongs to generation, merely as ſuch, is luſt only. This is evident in brutes, whoſe paſſions are more unmixed, and which purſue their purpoſes more directly than ours. The only diſtinction they obſerve with regard to their mates, is that of ſex. It is true, that they ſtick ſeverally to their own ſpecies in preference to all others. But this preference, I imagine, does not ariſe from any ſenſe of beauty which they find in their ſpecies, as Mr. Addiſon ſuppoſes, but from a law of ſome other kind, to which they are ſubject; and this we may fairly conclude, from their apparent want of choice amongſt thoſe objects to which the barriers of their ſpecies have confined them. But man, who is a creature adapted to a greater variety and intricacy of relation, connects with the general paſſion, the idea of ſome ſocial qualities, which direct and heighten the appetite which he has in common with all other [40] animals; and as he is not deſigned, like them, to live at large, it is fit that he ſhould have ſomething to create a preference, and fix his choice; and this, in general, ſhould be ſome ſenſible quality; as no other can ſo quickly, ſo powerfully, or ſo ſurely produce its effect. The object, therefore, of this mixed paſ⯑ſion, which we call love, is the beauty of the ſex. Men are carried to the ſex in general, as it is the ſex, and by the common law of nature; but they are at⯑tached to particulars by perſonal beauty. I call beauty a ſocial quality; for where women and men, and not only they, but when other animals give us a ſenſe of joy and pleaſure in beholding them (and there are many that do ſo), they inſpire us with ſen⯑timents of tenderneſs and affection towards their perſons; we like to have them near us, and we enter willingly into a kind of relation with them, unleſs we ſhould have ſtrong reaſons to the contrary. But to what end, in many caſes, this was deſigned, I am unable to diſcover; for I ſee no greater reaſon for a connection between man and ſeveral animals who are attired in ſo engaging a manner, than between him and ſome others who entirely want this attraction, or poſſeſs it in a far weaker degree. But it is pro⯑bable, that Providence did not make even this diſ⯑tinction, but with a view to ſome great end, though we cannot perceive diſtinctly what it is, as his wiſdom is not our wiſdom, nor our ways his ways.—Ibid.

FEMALE BEAUTY.

OBSERVE that part of a beautiful woman where ſhe is, perhaps, the moſt beautiful, about the neck and breaſts; the ſmoothneſs; the ſoftneſs; the eaſy and inſenſible ſwell; the variety of the ſurface, which is never for the ſmalleſt ſpace the ſame; the deceitful maze, through which the unſteady eye ſlides giddily, without knowing where to fix, or whither it is car⯑ried. Is not this a demonſtration of that change of [41] ſurface, continual, yet hardly perceptible at any point, which forms one of the great conſtituents of beauty? It gives me no ſmall pleaſure to find that I can ſtrengthen my theory in this point, by the opinion of the very ingenious Mr. Hogarth; whoſe idea of the line of beauty I take in general to be extremely juſt. But the idea of variation, without attending ſo accurately to the manner of the variation, has led him to con⯑ſider angular figures as beautiful; theſe figures, it is true, vary greatly; yet they vary in a ſudden and broken manner; and I do not find any natural object which is angular, and at the ſame beautiful. Indeed few natural objects are entirely angular.—Ibid.

BEAUTY OF THE SEX.

I NEED here ſay little of the fair ſex, where I believe the point will be eaſily allowed me. The beauty of women is conſiderably owing to their weakneſs or delicacy, and ſo even enhanced by their timidity, a quality of mind analogous to it. I would not here be underſtood to ſay, that weakneſs betraying very bad health has any ſhare in beauty; but the ill effect of this is not becauſe it is weakneſs, but becauſe the ill ſtate of health which produces ſuch weakneſs, alters the other conditions of beauty; the parts in ſuch a caſe collapſe; the bright colour, the lumen purpureum juventae, is gone; and the fine variation is loſt in wrinkles, ſudden breaks, and right lines.—Ibid.

BIRD. Deſcription of a beautiful one.

THE view of a beautiful bird will illuſtrate this obſervation. Here we ſee the head increaſing in⯑ſenſibly to the middle, from whence it leſſens gra⯑dually until it mixes with the neck; the neck loſes itſelf in a larger ſwell, which continues to the middle [42] of the body, when the whole decreaſes again to the tail; the tail takes a new direction; but it ſoon varies its new courſe: it blends again with the other parts; and the line is perpetually changing, above, below, upon every ſide. In this deſcription I have before me the idea of a dove; it agrees very well with moſt of the conditions of beauty. It is ſmooth and downy; its parts are (to uſe that expreſſion) melted into one another; you are repreſented with no ſudden protu⯑berance through the whole, and yet the whole is continually changing.—Ibid.

BRITISH FREEDOM.

This act, therefore, has this diſtinguiſhed evil in it, that it is the firſt partial ſuſpenſion of the Habeas Corpus that has been made. The precedent, which is always of very great importance, is now eſtabliſhed. For the firſt time a diſtinction is made among the people within this realm. Before this act, every man putting his foot on Engliſh ground, every ſtranger owing only a local and temporary allegiance, even negro ſlaves, who had been ſold in the colonies and under an act of parliament, became as free as every other man who breathed the ſame air with them.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

BRISTOL (CHARACTER OF THE ELECTORS OF.)

BY the favour of my fellow-citizens, I am the repreſentative of an honeſt, well ordered, virtuous city; of a people, who preſerve more of the original Engliſh ſimplicity, and purity of manners, than per⯑haps any other. You poſſeſs among you ſeveral men and magiſtrates of large and cultivated underſtand⯑ings, fit for any employment in any ſphere. I do, to the beſt of my power, act ſo as to make myſelf worthy of ſo honourable a choice.—Ibid.

BOARD OF TRADE.

THERE is, Sir, another office, which was not long ſince cloſely connected with this of the Ame⯑rican ſecretary; but has been lately ſeparated from it for the very ſame purpoſe for which it had been conjoined; I mean the ſole purpoſe of all the ſepa⯑rations and all conjunctions that have been lately made—a job. I ſpeak, Sir, of the Board of Trade and Plantations. This board is a ſort of temperate bed of influence; a ſort of gently ripening hot-houſe, where eight members of parliament receive ſalaries of a thouſand a year, for a certain given time, in order to mature, at a proper ſeaſon, a claim to two thouſand, granted for doing leſs, and on the credit of having toiled ſo long in that inferior laborious department.—Oecon. Reform.

BRITISH STATE.

THE Britiſh ſtate is, without queſtion, that which purſues the greateſt variety of creeds, and is the leaſt diſpoſed to ſacrifice any one of them to another, or to the whole. It aims at taking in the whole circle of human deſires, and ſecuring for them their fair enjoyment. Our Legiſlature has been very cloſely connected in its moſt efficient part with individual feeling and with individual intereſt. Perſonal li⯑berty, the moſt lively of theſe feelings, and the moſt important of theſe intereſts, which in other European countries has rather ariſen from the ſyſtem of mea⯑ſures, and the habitudes of life, than from the laws of the ſtate, (in which it flouriſhed more from neglect than attention) in England, has been a direct object of Government.—Regicide Peace.

BANK PAPER.

AT preſent the ſtate of their treaſury (France) ſinks every day more and more in caſh, and ſwells more [44] and more in fictitious repreſentation. When ſo little within or without is now found but paper, the repre⯑ſentative not of opulence but of want, the creature not of credit but of power, they imagine that our flouriſhing ſtate in England is owing to that bank paper, and not the bank paper to the flouriſhing con⯑dition of our commerce, to the ſolidity of our credit, and to the total excluſion of all idea of power from any part of the tranſaction. They forget that, in England, not one ſhilling of paper-money of any deſcription is received but of choice; that the whole has had its origin in caſh actually depoſited; and that it is convertible, at pleaſure, in an inſtant, and without the ſmalleſt loſs, into caſh again. Our paper is of value in commerce, becauſe in law it is of none. It is powerful on 'Change, becauſe in Weſtminſter⯑hall it is not.—Reflect. on the Revolution in France.

BISHOPS AND CANONS.

WITH regard to the eſtates poſſeſſed by biſhops and canons, and commendatory abbots, I cannot find out for what reaſon ſome landed eſtates may not be held otherwiſe than by inheritance. Can any phi⯑loſophie ſpoiler undertake to demonſtrate the poſitive or the comparative evil of having a certain, and that too a large portion of landed property, paſſing in ſucceſſion through perſons whoſe title to it is, always in theory, and often in fact, an eminent degree of piety, morals, and learning; a property which, by its deſtination, in their turn, and on the ſcore of merit, gives to the nobleſt families renovation and ſupport, to the loweſt the means of dignity and ele⯑vation; a property, the tenure of which is the per⯑formance of ſome duty, (whatever value you may chuſe to ſet upon that duty) and the character of whoſe proprietors demands at leaſt an exterior deco⯑rum and gravity of manners; who are to exerciſe a generous but temperate hoſpitality; part of whoſe [45] income they are to conſider as a truſt for charity; and who, even when they fail in their truſt, when they ſlide from their character, and degenerate into a mere common ſecular nobleman or gentleman, are in no reſpect worſe than thoſe who may ſucceed them in their forfeited poſſeſſions? Is it better that eſtates ſhould be held by thoſe who have no duty, than by thoſe who have one?—by thoſe whoſe character and deſtination point to virtues, than by thoſe who have no rule and direction in the expenditure of their eſtates but their own will and appetite? Nor are theſe eſtates held altogether in the character or with the evils ſuppoſed inherent in mortmain. They paſs from hand to hand with a more rapid circulation than any other. No exceſs is good; and therefore too great a proportion of landed property may be held officially for life; but it does not ſeem to me of material injury to any commonwealth, that there ſhould exiſt ſome eſtates that have a chance of being acquired by other means than the previous acqui⯑ſition of money.—Ibid.

BOARD OF WORKS.

THE Board of Works, which in the ſeven years preceding 1777, has coſt towards 400,000 l. and (if I recollect rightly) has not coſt leſs in proportion from the beginning of the reign, is under the very ſame deſcription of all the other ill-contrived eſtabliſh⯑ments, and calls for the very ſame reform. We are to ſeek for the viſible ſigns of all this expence.—For all this expence, we do not ſee a building of the ſize and importance of a pigeon-houſe. Buckingham⯑houſe was repriſed by a bargain with the public, for one hundred thouſand pounds; and the ſmall houſe at Windſor has been, if I miſtake not, undertaken ſince that account was brought before us. The good works of that board of works are as carefully con⯑cealed as other good works ought to be; they are [46] perfectly inviſible. But though it is the perfection of charity to be concealed, it is, Sir, the property and glory of magnificence to appear, and ſtand for⯑ward to the eye.—Oecon. Reform.

BISHOPRICS.

I know well enough that the biſhoprics and cures, under kingly and ſeignoral patronage, as now they are in England, and as they have been lately in France, are ſometimes acquired by unworthy me⯑thods.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

BRITISH LIBERTY, AN ENTAILED INHERITANCE.

FROM Magna Charta to the Declaration of Rights, it has been the uniform policy of our conſtitution to claim and aſſiſt our liberties, as an entailed inheri⯑tance derived to us from our forefathers, and to be tranſmitted to our poſterity, as an eſtate ſpecially be⯑longing to the people of this kingdom, without any reference whatever to any other more general or prior right. By this means our conſtitution preſerves an unity in ſo great a diverſity of its parts. We have an inheritable crown; an inheritable peerage; and an houſe of commons and a people inheriting privi⯑leges, franchiſes, and liberties, from a long line of anceſtors.

This policy appears to me to be the reſult of pro⯑found reflection, or rather the happy effect of fol⯑lowing nature, which is wiſdom without reflection, and above it. A ſpirit of innovation is generally the reſult of a ſelfiſh temper and confined views. People will not look forward to poſterity, who never look backward to their anceſtors. Beſides, the people of England well know, that the idea of inheritance fur⯑niſhes a ſure principle of conſervation, and a ſure principle of tranſmiſſion, without at all excluding a principle of improvement. It leaves acquiſition free, [47] but it ſecures what it acquires. Whatever advantages are obtained by a ſtate proceeding on theſe maxims, are locked faſt as in a ſort of family ſettlement; graſped as in a kind of mortmain for ever. By a conſtitutional policy, working after the pattern of nature, we receive, we hold, we tranſmit our govern⯑ment and our privileges, in the ſame manner in which we enjoy and tranſmit our property and our lives. The inſtitutions of policy, the goods of fortune, the gifts of Providence, are handed down to us and from us, in the ſame courſe and order. Our political ſyſtem is placed in a juſt correſpondence and ſym⯑metry with the order of the world, and with the mode of exiſtence decreed to a permanent body compoſed of tranſitory parts; wherein, by the diſpoſition of a ſtupendous wiſdom, moulding together the great myſterious incorporation of the human race, the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but in a condition of unchangeable con⯑ſtancy, moves on through the varied tenor of per⯑petual decay, fall, renovation, and progreſſion.—Thus, by preſerving the method of nature in the conduct of the ſtate, in what we improve we are never wholly new; in what we retain, we are never wholly obſolete. By adhering in this manner and on theſe principles to our forefathers, we are guided not by the ſuperſtition of antiquarians, but by the ſpirit of philoſophic analogy. In this choice of in⯑heritance we have given to our frame of polity the image of a relation in blood; binding up the conſti⯑tution of our country with our deareſt domeſtic ties; adopting our fundamental laws into the boſom of our family affections; keeping inſeparable, and che⯑riſhing with the warmth of all their combined and mutually reflected charities, our ſtate, our hearths, our ſepulchres, and our altars.

Through the ſame plan of a conformity to nature in our artificial inſtitutions, and by calling in the aid of her unerring and powerful inſtincts, to fortify the [48] fallible and feeble contrivances of our reaſon, we have derived ſeveral other, and thoſe no ſmall be⯑nefits, from conſidering our liberties in the light of an inheritance. Always acting as if in the preſence of canonized forefathers, the ſpirit of freedom, lead⯑ing in itſelf to miſrule and exceſs, is tempered with an awful gravity. This idea of a liberal deſcent in⯑ſpires us with a ſenſe of habitual native dignity, which prevents that upſtart inſolence almoſt inevitably ad⯑hering to and diſgracing thoſe who are the firſt ac⯑quirers of any diſtinction. By this means our liberty becomes a noble freedom. It carries an impoſing and majeſtic aſpect; it has a pedigree and illuſtrating anceſtors; it has its bearings and its enſigns armo⯑rials; it has its gallery of portraits; its monumental inſcriptions; its records, evidences, and titles. We procure reverence to our civil inſtitutions on the principle upon which nature teaches us to revere in⯑dividual men; on account of their age; and on ac⯑count of thoſe from whom they are deſcended.—Ibid.

CAUTION. Great Caution to be uſed in the Conſideration of any complex Matter.

THE characters of nature are legible, it is true; but they are not plain enough to enable thoſe who run, to read them. We muſt make uſe of a cau⯑tious, I had almoſt ſaid, a timorous method of pro⯑ceeding. We muſt not attempt to fly, when we can ſcarcely pretend to creep. In conſidering any com⯑plex matter, we ought to examine every diſtinct in⯑gredient in the compoſition, one by one, and reduce every thing to the utmoſt ſimplicity; ſince the con⯑dition of our nature binds us to a ſtrict law and very narrow limits. We ought afterwards to re-examine the principles by the effect of the compoſition, as well as the compoſition by that of the principles: we [49] ought to compare our ſubject with things of a ſimilar nature, and even with things of a contrary nature; for diſcoveries may be and often are made by the contraſt, which would eſcape us on the ſingle view.—

CONSTITUTION. Spirit of the Britiſh Conſtitution.

DO not entertain ſo weak an imagination, as that your regiſter and your bonds, your affidavits and your ſufferances, your cockets and your clearances, are what form the great ſecurities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your inſtructions, and your ſuſpending clauſes, are the things that hold together the great contexture of this myſterious whole. Theſe things do not make your government. Dead inſtruments, paſſive tools as they are, it is the ſpirit of the Engliſh communion, which, infuſed through the mighty maſs, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, viviſies every part of the empire, even down to the minuteſt member.—Speech on Conciliation with America.

COLOURS MOST APPROPRIATE TO BEAUTY.

THOSE colours which ſeem moſt appropriated to beauty, are the milder of every ſort; light greens, ſoft blues, weak whites, pink reds, and violets. If the colours be ſtrong and vivid, they are always diverſified, and the object is never of one ſtrong colour; there are almoſt always ſuch a number of them, (as in variegated flowers) that the ſtrength and glare of each is conſiderably abated. In a fine complexion, there is not only ſome variety in the colouring, but the colours; neither the red nor the white are ſtrong and glaring. Beſides, they are mixed in ſuch a manner, and with ſuch gradations, that it is impoſſible to fix the bounds. On the ſame [50] principle it is, that the dubious colour in the necks and tails of peacocks, and about the heads of drakes, is ſo very agreeable. In reality, the beauty both of ſhape and colouring are as nearly related, as we can well ſuppoſe it poſſible for things of ſuch different natures to be.—

CHRISTENDOM. The States of the Chriſtian World.

THE States of the Chriſtian World have grown up to their preſent magnitude in a great length of time, and by a great variety of accidents. They have been improved to what we ſee them with greater or leſs degrees of felicity and ſkill. Not one of them has been formed upon a regular plan, or with any unity of deſign. As their conſtitutions are not ſyſtematical, they have not been directed to any peculiar end, eminently diſtinguiſhed, and ſuperſeding every other. The objects which they embrace are of the greateſt poſſible variety, and have become in a manner infinite. In all theſe old countries the ſtate has been made to the people, and not the people conformed to the ſtate. Every ſtate has purſued, not only every ſort of ſocial advan⯑tage, but it has cultivated the welfare of every individual. His wants, his wiſhes, even his taſtes have been conſulted. This comprehenſive ſcheme, virtually produced a degree of perſonal liberty in forms the moſt adverſe to it. That was found, under monarchies ſtiled abſolute, in a degree un⯑known to the ancient commonwealths. From hence the powers of all our modern ſtates meet, in all their movements, with ſome obſtruction. It is therefore no wonder, that when theſe ſtates are to be conſidered as machines to operate for ſome one great end, that this diſſipated and balanced force is not eaſily concentred, or made to bear upon one point.—Regicide Peace.

CONSTITUTION AND COMMERCE.

When I (Mr. Burke) firſt devoted myſelf to the public ſervice, I conſidered how I ſhould render myſelf fit for it; and this I did by endeavouring to diſcover what it was, that gave this country the rank it holds in the world. I found that our proſperity and dignity aroſe principally, if not ſolely, from two ſources; our conſtitution and commerce. Both theſe I have ſpared no ſtudy to underſtand, and no endeavour to ſupport.

The diſtinguiſhing part of our conſtitution is its liberty. To preſerve that liberty inviolate, ſeems the particular 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; that not only exiſts along with order and virtue, but which cannot exiſt at all without them. It inheres in good and ſteady government, as in its ſubſtance and vital principle.

The other ſource of our power is commerce, of which you are ſo large a part, and which cannot exiſt, no more than your liberty, without a con⯑nection with many virtues.—Speech to the Electors of Briſtol.

CIVIL DISSENTIONS.

AT this propoſition, I muſt pauſe a moment. The thing ſeems a great deal too big for my ideas of juriſprudence. It ſhould ſeem, to my way of con⯑ceiving ſuch matters, that there is a very wide difference in reaſon and policy, between the mode of proceeding on the irregular conduct of ſcattered individuals, or even of bands of men, who diſturb order within the ſtate, and the civil diſſentions which may, from time to time, on great queſtions, agitate the ſeveral communities which compoſe a great empire. It looks to me to be narrow and pedantic, to apply the ordinary ideas of criminal juſtice to this great public conteſt. I do not know the method [52] of drawing up an indictment againſt an whole people. I cannot inſult and ridicule the feelings of millions of my fellow creatures, as Sir Edward Coke inſulted one excellent individual (Sir Walter Raleigh) at the bar. I am not ripe to paſs ſentence on the graveſt public bodies, entruſted with magiſtracies of great authority and dignity, and charged with the ſafety of their fellow-citizens, upon the very ſame title that I am. I really think, that for wiſe men, this is not judicious; for ſober men, not decent; for minds tinctured with humanity, not mild and merciful.—

CLERGY.

IF your clergy, or any clergy, ſhould ſhew them⯑ſelves vicious beyond the fair bounds allowed to human infirmity, and to thoſe profeſſional faults which can hardly be ſeparated from profeſſional virtues, though their vices never can countenance the exerciſe of oppreſſion, I do admit, that they would naturally have the effect of abating very much of our indignation againſt the tyrants who exceed meaſure and juſtice in their puniſhment. I can allow in clergymen, through all their diviſions, ſome tenaciouſneſs of their own opinion; ſome overflowings of zeal for its propagation; ſome predilection to their own ſtate and office; ſome attachment to the intereſt of their own corps; ſome preference to thoſe who liſten with docility to their doctrines, beyond thoſe who ſcorn and deride them. I allow all this, becauſe I am a man who have to deal with men, and who would not, through a violence of toleration, run into the greateſt of all intolerance. I muſt bear with infirmities until they feſter into crimes.—Re⯑flect. on the Revolution in France.

CHURCH ESTABLISHMEMT.

FIRST, I beg leave to ſpeak of our church eſtab⯑liſhment, which is the firſt of our prejudices, not a [53] prejudice deſtitute of reaſon, but involving in it profound and extenſive wiſdom. I ſpeak of it firſt. It is firſt, and laſt, and midſt in our minds. For, taking ground on that religious ſyſtem, of which we are now in poſſeſſion, we continue to act on the early received, and uniformly continued ſenſe of mankind. That ſenſe not only, like a wiſe architect, hath built up the auguſt fabric of ſtates, but like a provident proprietor, to preſerve the ſtructure from prophanation and ruin, as a ſacred temple, purged from all the impurities of fraud, and violence, and injuſtice, and tyranny, hath ſolemnly and for ever conſecrated the commonwealth, and all that officiate in it. This conſecration is made, that all who ad⯑miniſter in the government of men, in which they ſtand in the perſon of God himſelf, ſhould have high and worthy notions of their function and deſtination; that their hope ſhould be full of immortality; that they ſhould not look to the paltry pelf of the moment, nor to the temporary and tranſient praiſe of the vulgar, but to a ſolid, permanent exiſtence, in the permanent part of their nature, and to a permanent fame and glory, in the example they leave as a rich inheritance to the world.

Such ſublime principles ought to be infuſed into perſons of exalted ſituations; and religious eſtabliſh⯑ments provided, that may continually revive and enforce them. Every ſort of moral, every ſort of civil, every ſort of politic inſtitution, aiding the rational and natural ties that connect the human underſtanding and affections to the divine, are not more than neceſſary, in order to build up that wonderful ſtructure, Man; whoſe prerogative it is, to be in a great degree a creature of his own making; and who when made as he ought to be made, is deſtined to hold no trivial place in the creation. But whenever man is put over men, as the better nature ought ever to preſide, in that caſe more [54] particularly, he ſhould as nearly as poſſible be ap⯑proximated to his perfection.—Ibid.

CHURCH AND STATE.

THE conſecration of the ſtate, by a ſtate religious eſtabliſhment, is neceſſary alſo to operate with an wholeſome awe upon free citizens; becauſe, in order to ſecure their freedom, they muſt enjoy ſome determinate portion of power. To them therefore a religion connected with the ſtate, and with their duty towards it, becomes even more neceſſary than in ſuch ſocieties, where the people by the terms of their ſubjection are confined to private ſentiments, and the management of their own family concerns. All perſons poſſeſſing any portion of power ought to be ſtrongly and awfully impreſſed with an idea that they act in truſt; and that they are to account for their conduct in that truſt to the one great maſter, author and founder of ſociety.—Ibid.

COUNCIL.

SUCH a body kings generally have as a council. A monarchy may exiſt without it; but it ſeems to be in the very eſſence of a republican government. It holds a ſort of middle place between the ſupreme power exerciſed by the people, or immediately de⯑legated from them, and the mere executive.—Ibid.

CONSCIENCE.

IT is thus, and for the ſame end, that they (the regi⯑cides) endeavour 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 Helvetius, and the reſt of that infamous gang, [55] hat 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—

COMMONS OF GREAT BRITAIN.

THE power of the Houſe of Commons, direct or indirect, is indeed great; and long may it be able to preſerve its greatneſs, and the ſpirit belonging to true greatneſs, at the full; and it will do ſo, as long as it can keep the breakers of law in India from becoming the makers of law for England.—Ibid.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE NATURE AND CHARAC⯑TER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, (SEE KING'S MEN.

I HAVE my eye chiefly on the Houſe of Commons. I hope I ſhall be indulged in a few obſervations on the nature and character of that aſſembly; not with regard to its legal form and power, but to its ſpirit, and to the purpoſes it is meant to anſwer in the conſtitution.

The Houſe of Commons was ſuppoſed originally to be no part of the ſtanding government of this country. It was conſidered as a controul, iſſuing immediately from the people, and ſpeedily to be reſolved into the maſs from whence it aroſe. In this reſpect it was in the higher part of government what juries are in the lower. The capacity of a magiſtrate being tranſitory, and that of a citizen permanent, the latter capacity it was hoped would of courſe preponderate in all diſcuſſions, not only between the people and the ſtanding authority of the crown, but between the people and the fleeting authority of the Houſe of Commons itſelf. It was hoped that, being of a middle nature between ſubject and government, they would feel with a more tender and a nearer intereſt [56] every thing that concerned the people, than the other remoter and more permanent parts of legiſlature.

Whatever alterations time and the neceſſary ac⯑commodation of buſineſs may have introduced, this character can never be ſuſtained, unleſs the Houſe of Commons ſhall be made to bear ſome ſtamp of the actual diſpoſition of the people at large. It would (among public misfortunes) be an evil more natural and tolerable, that the Houſe of Commons ſhould be infected with every epidemical phrenſy of the people, as this would indicate ſome conſanguinity, ſome ſympathy of nature with their conſtituents, than that they ſhould in all caſes be wholly untouched by the opinions and feelings of the people out of doors. By this want of ſympathy they would ceaſe to be an Houſe of Com⯑mons. For it is not the derivation of the power of that Houſe from the people, which makes it in a diſtinct ſenſe their repreſentative. The King is the repreſentative of the people; ſo are the lords; ſo are the judges. They all are truſtees for the people, as well as the Commons; becauſe no power is given for the ſole ſake of the holder; and although go⯑vernment certainly is an inſtitution of divine autho⯑rity, yet its forms, and the perſons who adminiſter it, all originate from the people.

A popular origin cannot therefore be the charac⯑teriſtical diſtinction of a popular repreſentative. This belongs equally to all parts of government, and in all forms. The virtue, ſpirit, and eſſence of a Houſe of Commons conſiſts in its being the expreſs image of the feelings of the nation. It was not [...]ed to be a controul upon the people, as of late [...] been taught, by a doctrine of the moſt pernicious tendency. It was deſigned as a controul for the people. Other inſtitutions have been formed for the purpoſe of checking popular exceſſes; and they are, I apprehend, fully adequate to their object. If not, they ought to be made ſo. The Houſe of Commons, as it was never intended for the ſupport of [57] peace and ſubordination, is miſerably appointed for that ſervice; having no ſtronger weapon than its mace, and no better officer than its ſerjeant at arms, which it can command of its own proper authority. A vigilant and jealous eye over executory and judicial magiſtracy; an anxious care of public money, an openneſs, approaching towards facility, to public complaint: theſe ſeem to be the true characteriſtics of an Houſe of Commons. But an addreſſing Houſe of Commons, and a petitioning nation; an Houſe of Commons full of confidence, when the nation is plunged in deſpair; in the utmoſt harmony with miniſters, whom the people regard with the utmoſt abhorrence; who vote thanks, when the public opinion calls upon them for impeachments; who are eager to grant, when the general voice demands account; who, in all diſputes between the people and adminiſtration, preſume againſt the people; who puniſh their diſorders, but refuſe even to inquire into the provocations to them; this is an unnatural, a monſtrous ſtate of things in this conſtitution. Such an aſſembly may be a great, wiſe, awful ſenate; but it is not to any popular purpoſe an Houſe of Com⯑mons.—Thoughts on the Cauſe of the preſent Diſcontents.

CARNATIC, (SEE INDIA.) Hiſtory of Hyder Ali's irruption into the Eaſtern Carnatic.

WHEN at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do with men who either would ſign no convention, or whom no treaty, and no ſignature could bind, and who were the determined enemies of human intercourſe itſelf, he decreed to make the country poſſeſſed by theſe incorrigible and predeſtinated criminals a memorable example to mankind. He reſolved, in the gloomy receſſes of a mind capacious of ſuch things, to leave the whole Carnatic an ever⯑laſting [58] monument of vengeance; and to put perpetual deſolation as a barrier between him and thoſe againſt whom the faith which holds the moral elements of the world together was no protection. He became at length ſo confident of his force, ſo collected in his might, that he made no ſecret whatſoever of his dreadful reſolution. Having terminated his diſputes with every enemy, and every rival, who buried their mutual animoſities in their common deteſtation againſt the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew from every quarter whatever a ſavage ferocity could add to his new rudiments in the arts of deſtruction; and compounding all the materials of fury, havock, and deſolation, into one black cloud, he hung for a while on the declivities of the mountains. Whilſt the authors of all theſe evils were idly and ſtupidly gazing on this menacing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it ſuddenly burſt, and poured down the whole of its contents upon the plains of the Carnatic. Then enſued a ſcene of woe, the like of which no eye had ſeen, no heart conceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell. All the horrors of war before known or heard of, were mercy to that new havock. A ſtorm of univerſal fire blaſted every field, conſumed every houſe, deſtroyed every temple. The miſerable inhabitants flying from their flaming villages, in part were ſlaughtered; others, without regard to ſex, to age, to the reſpect of rank, or ſacredneſs of function; fathers torn from children, huſbands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, and amidſt the goading ſpears of drivers, and the trampling of purſuing horſes, were ſwept into captivity, in an unknown and hoſtile land. Thoſe who were able to evade this tempeſt, fled to the walled cities. But eſcaping from fire, ſword, and exile, they fell into the jaws of famine.

The alms of the ſettlement, in this dreadful exigency, were certainly liberal; and all was done by charity that private charity could do: but it was [59] a people in beggary; it was a nation which ſtretched out its hands for food. For months together theſe creatures of ſufferance, whoſe very exceſs and luxury in their moſt plenteous days, had fallen ſhort of the allowance of our auſtereſt faſts, ſilent, patient, re⯑ſigned, without ſedition or diſturbance, almoſt without complaint, periſhed by an hundred a day in the ſtreets of Madras; every day ſeventy at leaſt laid their bodies in the ſtreets, or on the glacis of Tanjore, and expired of famine in the granary of India. I was going to awake your juſtice towards this unhappy part of our fellow citizens, by bringing before you ſome of the circumſtances of this plague of hunger. Of all the calamities which beſet and waylay the life of man, this comes the neareſt to our heart, and is that wherein the proudeſt of us all feels himſelf to be nothing more than he is: but I find myſelf unable to manage it with decorum; theſe details are of a ſpecies of horror ſo nauſeous and diſguſting; they are ſo degrading to the ſufferers and to the hearers; they are ſo humiliating to human nature itſelf, that, on better thoughts, I find it more adviſeable to throw a pall over this hideous object, and to leave it to your general conceptions.

^* For eighteen months, without intermiſſion, this deſtruction raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of Tanjore; and ſo completely did theſe maſters in their art, Hyder Ali, and his more ferocious ſon, abſolve themſelves of their impious vow, that when the Britiſh armies traverſed, as they did the Carnatic for hundreds of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their march they did not ſee one man, not one woman, not one child, not one four-footed beaſt of any deſcription whatever. One dead uniform ſilence reigned over the whole region. With the inconſiderable exceptions of the narrow vicinage of ſome few forts, I wiſh to be underſtood as ſpeaking [60] literally. I mean to produce to you more than three witneſſes, above all exception, who will ſupport this aſſertion in its full extent. That hurricane of war paſſed through every part of the central provinces of the Carnatic. Six or ſeven diſtricts to the north and to the ſouth (and theſe not wholly untouched) eſcaped the general ravage.—

CARNATIC DESCRIBED.

THE Carnatic is a country not much inferior in extent to England. Figure to yourſelf, Mr. Speaker, the land in whoſe repreſentative chair you ſit; figure to yourſelf the form and faſhion of your ſweet and cheerful country from Thames to Trent, north and ſouth, and from the Iriſh to the German ſea eaſt and weſt, emptied and embowelled (May God avert the omen of our crimes!) by ſo accompliſhed a deſolation. Extend your imagination a little further, and then ſuppoſe your miniſters taking a ſurvey of this ſcene of waſte and deſolation; what would be your thoughts if you ſhould be informed, that they were computing how much had been the amount of the exciſes, how much the cuſtoms, how much the land and malt tax, in order that they ſhould charge (take it in the moſt favourable light) for public ſervice, upon the relics of the ſatiated vengeance of relentleſs enemies, the whole of what England had yielded in the moſt ex⯑uberant ſeaſons of peace and abundance? What would you call it? To call it tyranny, ſublimed into madneſs, would be too faint an image; yet this very madneſs is the principle upon which the miniſters at your right hand have proceeded in their eſtimate of the revenues of the Carnatic, when they were pro⯑viding, not ſupply for the eſtabliſhments of its pro⯑tection, but rewards for the authors of its ruin.

Every day you are fatigued and diſguſted with this cant, ‘"the Carnatic is a country that will ſoon re⯑cover, and become inſtantly as proſperous as ever."’ [61] They think they are talking to innocents, who will believe that by ſowing of dragons teeth, men may come up ready grown and ready armed. They who will give themſelves the trouble of conſidering (for it requires no great reach of thought, no very profound knowledge) the manner in which mankind are increaſed, and countries cultivated, will regard all this raving as it ought to be regarded. In order that the people, after a long period of vexation and plunder, may be in a condition to maintain govern⯑ment, government muſt begin by maintaining them. Here the road to oeconomy lies not through receipt, but through expence; and in that country nature has given no ſhort cut to your object. Men muſt pro⯑pagate, like other animals, by the mouth. Never did oppreſſion light the nuptial torch; never did extortion and uſury ſpread out the genial bed.

Does any of you think that England, ſo waſted, would, under ſuch a nurſing attendance, ſo rapidly and cheaply recover? But he is meanly acquainted with either England or India, who does not know that England would a thouſand times ſooner reſume population, fertility, and what ought to be the ultimate ſecretion from both, revenue, than ſuch a country as the Carnatic.

The Carnatic is not by the bounty of nature a fertile ſoil. The general ſize of its cattle is proof enough that it is much otherwiſe. It is ſome days ſince I moved, that a curious and intereſting map, kept in the India Houſe, ſhould be laid before you. The India Houſe is not yet in readineſs to ſend it; I have therefore brought down my own copy, and there it lies for the uſe of any gentleman who may think ſuch a matter worthy of his attention. It is indeed a noble map, and of noble things; but it is deciſive againſt the golden dreams and ſanguine ſpeculations of avarice run mad. In addition to what you know muſt be the caſe in every part of the world (the neceſſity of a previous proviſion of habi⯑tation, [62] ſeed, ſtock, capital) that map will ſhew you, that the uſe of the influences of Heaven itſelf, are in that country a work of art. The Carnatic is refreſhed by few or no living brooks or running ſtreams, and it has rain only at a ſeaſon; but its product of rice exacts the uſe of water ſubject to perpetual com⯑mand. This is the national bank of the Carnatic, on which it muſt have a perpetual credit, or it periſhe irretrievably. For that reaſon, in the happier times of India, a number almoſt incredible of reſer⯑voirs have been made in choſen places throughout the whole country; they are formed, for the greater part, of mounds of earth and ſtones, with ſluices of ſolid maſonry; the whole conſtructed with admirable ſkill and labour, and maintained at a mighty charge. In the territory contained in that map (Mr. Barnard's map of the Jaghire) alone, I have been at the trouble of reckoning the reſervoirs, and they amount to upwards of eleven hundred, from the extent of two or three acres to five miles in circuit. From theſe reſervoirs currents are occaſionally drawn over the fields, and theſe water-courſes again call for a con⯑ſiderable expence to keep them properly ſcoured and duly levelled. Taking the diſtrict in that map as a meaſure, there cannot be in the Carnatic and Tanjore fewer than ten thouſand of theſe reſervoirs of the larger and middling dimenſions, to ſay nothing of thoſe for domeſtic ſervices, and the uſe of religious purification. Theſe are not the enterprizes of your power, nor in a ſtyle of magnificence ſuited to the taſte of your miniſter. Theſe are the monuments of real kings, who were the fathers of their people; teſtators to a poſterity which they embraced as their own. Theſe are the grand ſepulchres built by am⯑bition; but by the ambition of an unſatiable bene⯑volence, which, not contented with reigning in the diſpenſation of happineſs during the contracted term of human life, had ſtrained, with all the reachings and graſpings of a vivacious mind, to extend the [63] dominion of their bounty beyond the limits of nature, and to perpetuate themſelves through generations of generations, the guardians, the protectors, the nou⯑riſhers of mankind.

What, Sir, would a virtuous and enlightened mi⯑niſtry do on the view of the ruins of ſuch works be⯑fore them? On the view of ſuch a chaſm of deſola⯑tion as that which yawned in the midſt of thoſe coun⯑tries to the north and ſouth, which ſtill bore ſome veſtiges of cultivation? They would have reduced all their moſt neceſſary eſtabliſhments; they would have ſuſpended the juſteſt payments; they would have employed every ſhilling derived from the producing to re-animate the powers of the unproductive parts. While they were performing this fundamental duty, whilſt they were celebrating theſe myſteries of juſtice and humanity, they would have told the corps of fictitious creditors, whoſe crimes were their claims, that they muſt keep an awful diſtance; that they muſt ſilence their inauſpicious tongues; that they muſt hold off their profane unhallowed paws from this holy work; they would have proclaimed with a voice that ſhould make itſelf heard, that on every country the firſt creditor is the plow; that this original, indefeaſi⯑ble claim ſuperſedes every other demand.

This is what a wiſe and virtuous miniſtry would have done and ſaid. This, therefore, is what our miniſter could never think of ſaying or doing. A miniſtry of another kind would have firſt improved the country, and have thus laid a ſolid founda⯑tion for future opulence and future force. But on this grand point of the reſtoration of the country, there is not one ſyllable to be found in the correſpondence of our miniſters, from the firſt to the laſt; they felt nothing for a land deſolated by fire, ſword, and famine; their ſympathies took an⯑other direction; they were touched with pity for bribery, ſo long tormented with a fruitleſs itching of [64] its palms; their bowels yearned for uſury, that had long miſſed the harveſt of its returning months; they f [...]lt for peculation which had been for ſo many years [...]ing in the duſt of an empty treaſury; they were [...]ed into compaſſion for rapine and oppreſſion, [...]king their dry, parched, unbloody jaws. Theſe were the neceſſities for which they were ſtudious to provide.—Ibid.

CONTRIBUTIONS, (VOLUNTARY.)

AND what is the ſoil or climate, where experience has not uniformly proved that the voluntary flow of heaped up plenty, burſting from the weight of its own rich luxuriance, has ever run with a more co⯑pious ſtream of revenue, than could be ſqueezed from the dry huſks of oppreſſed indigence, by the ſtraining of all the politic machinery in the world.—Speech on Conciliation with America.

CRIMES.

IS confounding the order of crimes, which, whether by putting them from a higher part of the ſcale to the lower, or from the lower to the higher, is never done without dangerouſly diſordering the whole frame of juriſprudence.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

CONVOCATION OF THE CLERGY.

WE know, that the convocation of the clergy had formerly been called, and ſat with nearly as much regularity to buſineſs as parliament itſelf. It is now called for form only. It ſits for the purpoſe of making ſome 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 [65] 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. So truly has prudence, (conſtituted as the god of this lower world) the entire dominion over every exerciſe of power, committed into its hands; and yet I have lived to ſee prudence and conformity to circum⯑ſtances, wholly ſet at naught in our late controverſies, and treated as if they were the moſt contemptible and irrational of all things. I have heard it an hundred times very gravely alledged, that in order to keep power in wind, it was neceſſary, by preference, to exert it in thoſe very points in which it was moſt likely to be reſiſted, and the leaſt likely to be pro⯑ductive of any advantage.—Ibid.

CABINET (THE DOUBLE.)

IT muſt be remembered, that ſince the revolution, until the period we are ſpeaking of, the influence of the crown had been always employed in ſupporting the miniſters of ſtate, and in carrying on the public buſineſs according to their opinions. But the party now in queſtion is formed upon a very different idea. It is to intercept the favour, protection and confi⯑dence of the crown in the paſſage to its miniſters; it is to come between them and their importance in par⯑liament; it is to ſeparate them from all their natural and acquired dependencies; it is intended as con⯑troul, not the ſupport, of adminiſtration. The ma⯑chinery of this ſyſtem is perplexed in its movements, and falſe in its principle. It is formed on a ſuppoſi⯑tion that the king is ſomething external to his govern⯑ment; and that he may be honoured and aggrandized, even by its debility and diſgrace. The plan pro⯑ceeds expreſsly on the idea of enfeebling the regular executory power. It proceeds on the idea of weak⯑ening the ſtate in order to ſtrengthen the court. The ſcheme depending entirely on diſtruſt, on diſconnec⯑tion, [66] on mutability by principle, on ſyſtematic weak⯑neſs in every particular member; it is impoſſible that the total reſult ſhould be ſubſtantial ſtrength of any kind.

As a foundation of their ſcheme, the cabal have eſtabliſhed a ſort of rota in the court. All ſorts of parties, by this means, have been brought into admi⯑niſtration, from whence few have had the good for⯑tune to eſcape without diſgrace; none at all without conſiderable loſſes. In the beginning of each ar⯑rangement no profeſſions of confidence and ſupport are wanting, to induce the leading men to engage. But while the miniſters of the day appear in all the pomp and pride of power, while they have all their canvas ſpread out to the wind, and every ſail filled with the fair and proſperous gale of royal favour, in a ſhort time they find, they know not how, a cur⯑rent, which ſets directly againſt them; which pre⯑vents all progreſs; and even drives them backwards. They grow aſhamed and mortified in a ſituation, which, by its vicinity to power, only ſerves to re⯑mind them the more ſtrongly of their inſignificance. They are obliged either to execute the orders of their inferiors, or to ſee themſelves oppoſed by the natural inſtruments of their office. With the loſs of their dignity they loſe their temper. In their turn they grow troubleſome to that cabal, which, whether it ſupports or oppoſes, equally diſgraces and equally betrays them. It is ſoon found neceſſary to get rid of the heads of adminiſtration; but it is of the heads only. As there always are many rotten members belonging to the beſt connections, it is not hard to perſuade ſeveral to continue in office without their leaders. By this means the party goes out much thinner than it came in; and is only reduced in ſtrength by its temporary poſſeſſion of power. Be⯑ſides, if by accident, or in courſe of changes, that power ſhould be recovered, the junto have thrown up a retrenchment of theſe carcaſes, which may ſerve [67] to cover themſelves in a day of danger. They con⯑clude, not unwiſely, that ſuch rotten members will become the firſt objects of diſguſt and reſentment to their antient connexions.

They contrive to form in the outward adminiſtra⯑tion two parties at the leaſt; which, whilſt they are tearing one another to pieces, are both competitors for the favour and protection of the cabal; and, by their emulation, contribute to throw every thing more and more into the hands of the interior ma⯑nagers.

A miniſter of ſtate will ſometimes keep himſelf totally eſtranged from all his colleagues; will differ from them in their councils, will privately traverſe, and publicly oppoſe, their meaſures, He will, how⯑ever, continue in his employment. Inſtead of ſuf⯑fering any mark of diſpleaſure, he will be diſtin⯑guiſhed by an unbounded profuſion of court rewards and careſſes; becauſe he does what is expected, and all that is expected, from men in office. He helps to keep ſome form of adminiſtration in being, and keeps it at the ſame time as weak and divided as poſ⯑ſible.

However, we muſt take care not to be miſtaken, or to imagine that ſuch perſons have any weight in their oppoſition. When, by them, adminiſtration is convinced of its inſignificancy, they are ſoon to be convinced of their own. They never are ſuffered to ſucceed in their oppoſition. They and the world are to be ſatisfied, that, neither office, nor authority, nor property, nor ability, eloquence, counſel, ſkill, or union, are of the leaſt importance; but that the mere influence of the court, naked of all ſupport, and deſtitute of all management, is abundantly ſuffi⯑cient for all its own purpoſes.

When any adverſe connexion is to be deſtroyed, the cabal ſeldom appear in the work themſelves. They find out ſome perſon of whom the party enter⯑tains an high opinion. Such a perſon they endeavour [68] to delude with various pretences. They teach him firſt to diſtruſt, and then to quarrel with his friends; among whom, by the ſame arts, they excite a ſimilar diffidence of him; ſo that, in this mutual fear and diſtruſt, he may ſuffer himſelf to be employed as the inſtrument in the change which is brought about. Afterwards they are ſure to deſtroy him in his turn, by ſetting up in his place ſome perſon in whom he had himſelf repoſed the greateſt confidence, and who ſerves to carry off a conſiderable part of his adhe⯑rents.

As in deſtroying their enemies they make uſe of inſtruments not immediately belonging to their corps, ſo in advancing their own friends they purſue exactly the ſame method. To promote any of them to con⯑ſiderable rank or emolument, they commonly take care that the recommendation ſhall paſs through the hands of the oftenſible miniſtry: ſuch a recommen⯑dation might however appear to the world, as ſome proof of the credit of miniſters, and ſome means of increaſing their ſtrength. To prevent this, the per⯑ſons ſo advanced are directed, in all companies, in⯑duſtriouſly to declare, that they are under no obli⯑gations whatſoever to adminiſtration; that they have received their office from another quarter; that they are totally free and independent.

When the faction has any job of lucre to obtain, or of vengeance to perpetrate, their way is, to ſelect, for the execution, thoſe very perſons to whoſe habits, friendſhips, principles, and declarations, ſuch pro⯑ceedings are publicly known to be the moſt adverſe; at once to render the inſtruments the more odious, and therefore the more dependent, and to prevent the people from ever repoſing a confidence in any appearance of private friendſhip, or public principle.

If the adminiſtration ſeem now and then, from re⯑miſſneſs, or from fear of making themſelves diſ⯑agreeable, to ſuffer any popular exceſſes to go un⯑puniſhed, the cabal immediately ſets up ſome creature [69] of theirs to raiſe a clamour againſt the miniſters, as having ſhamefully betrayed the dignity of govern⯑ment. Then they compel the miniſtry to become active in conferring rewards and honours on the per⯑ſons who have been the inſtruments of their diſgrace; and, after having firſt vilified them with the higher orders for ſuffering the laws to ſleep over the licen⯑tiouſneſs of the populace, they drive them (in order to make amends for their former inactivity) to ſome act of atrocious violence, which renders them com⯑pletely abhorred by the people.

They who remember the riots which attended the Middleſex election; the opening of the preſent par⯑liament; and the tranſactions relative to Saint George's Fields, will not be at a loſs for an appli⯑cation of theſe remarks.

That this body may be enabled to compaſs all the ends of its inſtitution, its members are ſcarcely ever to aim at the high and reſponſible offices of the ſtate. They are diſtributed with art and judgment through all the ſecondary, but efficient, departments of office, and through the houſeholds of all the branches of the royal family: ſo as on one hand to occupy all the avenues to the throne; and on the other to for⯑ward or fruſtrate the execution of any meaſure, according to their own intereſts. For with the credit and ſupport which they are known to have, though for the greater part in places which are only a genteel excuſe for ſalary, they poſſeſs all the influence of the higheſt poſts; and they dictate publicly in almoſt every thing, even with a parade of ſuperiority. Whenever they diſſent (as it often happens) from their nominal leaders, the trained part of the ſenate, inſtinctively in the ſecret, is ſure to follow them; provided the leaders, ſenſible of their ſituation, do not of themſelves recede in time from their moſt declared opinions. This latter is generally the caſe. It will not be conceivable to any one who has not ſeen it, what pleaſure is taken by the cabal in ren⯑dering [70] theſe heads of office thoroughly contemptible and ridiculous. And when they are become ſo, they have then the beſt chance for being well ſup⯑ported.

The members of the court faction are fully indem⯑nified for not holding places on the ſlippery heights of the kingdom, not only by the lead in all affairs, but alſo by the perfect ſecurity in which they enjoy leſs conſpicuous, but very advantageous ſituations. Their places are, in expreſs legal tenure, or in effect, all of them for life. Whilſt the firſt and moſt re⯑ſpectable perſons in the kingdom are toſſed about like tennis balls, the ſport of a blind and inſolent caprice, no miniſter dares even to caſt an oblique glance at the loweſt of their body. If an attempt be made upon one of this corps, immediately he flies to ſanctuary, and pretends to the moſt inviolable of all promiſes. No conveniency of public arrange⯑ment is available to remove any one of them from the ſpecific ſituation he holds; and the ſlighteſt at⯑tempt upon one of them, by the moſt powerful mi⯑niſter, is a certain preliminary to his own deſtruc⯑tion.

Conſcious of their independence, they bear them⯑ſelves with a lofty air to the exterior miniſters. Like Janiſſaries, they derive a kind of freedom from the very condition of their ſervitude. They may act juſt as they pleaſe; provided they are true to the great ruling principle of their inſtitution. It is, therefore, not at all wonderful, that people ſhould be ſo deſirous of adding themſelves to that body, in which they may poſſeſs and reconcile ſatisfactions the moſt alluring, and ſeemingly the moſt contradictory; enjoying at once all the ſpirited pleaſure of indepen⯑dence, and all the groſs lucre and ſat emoluments of ſervitude.

Here is a ſketch, though a ſlight one, of the con⯑ſtitution, laws, and policy of this new court corpo⯑ration. The name by which they chuſe to diſtinguiſh [71] themſelves, is that of king's men, or the king's friends, by an invidious excluſion of the reſt of his Majeſty's moſt loyal and affectionate ſubjects. The whole ſyſtem, comprehending the exterior and interior ad⯑miniſtrations, is commonly called in the technical language of the court, double cabinet; in French or Engliſh, as you chuſe to pronounce it.—Thoughts on the Cauſe of the Diſcontents of the Nation.

CHARTERS.

CHARTERS are kept when their purpoſes are main⯑tained: they are violated when the privilege is ſup⯑ported againſt its end and its object.—Speech on Mr. Fox's Eaſt India Bill.

CONNEXION AND FACTION.

CONNEXION and faction are equivalent terms, is an opinion which has been carefully inculcated at all times by unconſtitutional ſtateſmen. The reaſon is evident. Whilſt men are linked together, they eaſily and ſpeedily communicate the alarm of any evil deſign. They are enabled to fathom it with common counſel, and to oppoſe it with united ſtrength. Whereas, when they lie diſperſed, without concert, order, or diſcipline, communication is uncertain, counſel difficult, and reſiſtance impracticable. Where men are not acquainted with each other's principles, nor experienced in each other's talents, nor at all practiſed in their mutual habitudes and diſpoſitions by joint efforts in buſineſs; no perſonal confidence, no friendſhip, no common intereſt, ſubſiſting among them; it is evidently impoſſible that they can act a public part with uniformity, perſeverance, or effi⯑cacy. In a connexion, the moſt inconſiderable man, by adding to the weight of the whole, has his value, and his uſe; out of it, the greateſt talents are wholly unſerviceable to the public. No man, who is not [72] inflamed by vain-glory into enthuſiaſm, can flatter himſelf that his ſingle, unſupported, deſultory, un⯑ſyſtematic endeavours are of power to defeat the ſubtle deſigns and united cabals of ambitious citizens. When bad men combine, the good muſt aſſociate, elſe they will fall, one by one, an unpitied ſacrifice in a contemptible ſtruggle.—Thoughts on the Cauſe of the preſent Diſcontents.

CHARACTER.

THOSE who quit their proper character, to aſſume what does not belong to them, are, for the greater part, ignorant both of the character they leave, and of the character they aſſume.—Ibid.

DIFFICULTY.

THIS it has been the glory of the great maſters in all the arts to confront, and to overcome; and when they had overcome the firſt difficulty, to turn it into an inſtrument for new conqueſts over new difficul⯑ties; thus to enable them to extend the empire of their ſcience; and even to puſh forward beyond the reach of their original thoughts, the land-marks of the human underſtanding itſelf. Difficulty is a ſevere inſtructor, ſet over us by the ſupreme ordinance of a parental guardian and legiſlator, who knows us better than we know ourſelves, as he loves us better too. Pater ipſe colendi haud ſacilem eſſe viam voluit. He that wreſtles with us, ſtrengthens our nerves, and ſharpens our ſkill. Our antagoniſt is our helper. This amicable conflict with difficulty obliges us to an intimate acquaintance with our object, and compels us to conſider it in all its relations. It will not ſuffer us to be ſuperficial.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

DELUSION.

DELUSION and weakneſs produce not one miſchief the leſs, becauſe they are univerſal.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

DEATH.

BUT as pain is ſtronger in its operations than plea⯑ſure, ſo death is in general a much more affecting idea than pain; becauſe there are very few pains, however equiſite, which are not preferred to death; nay, what generally make pain itſelf, if I may ſay ſo, is, that it is conſidered as an emiſſary of this king of terrors.—Sublime and Beautiful.

DARKNESS.

DARKNESS is more productive of ſublime ideas than light. Our great poet was convinced of this; and indeed ſo full was he of this idea, ſo entirely poſſeſſed with the power of a well-managed darkneſs, that in deſcribing the appearance of the Deity, amidſt that profuſion of magnificent images which the gran⯑deur of his ſubject provokes him to pour out upon every ſide, he is far from forgetting the obſcurity which ſurrounds the moſt incomprehenſible of all beings, but

And what is no leſs remarkable, our author had the ſecret of preſerving this idea, even when he ſeemed to depart the fartheſt from it, when he deſcribes the light and glory which flows from the divine preſence; a light which by its very exceſs is converted into a ſpecies of darkneſs.

[74]Here is an idea not only poetical in an high degree, but ſtrictly and philoſophically juſt. Extreme light, by overcoming the organs of ſight, obliterates all objects, ſo as in its effect exactly to reſemble darkneſs. After looking for ſome time at the ſun, two black ſpots, the impreſſion which it leaves, ſeem to dance before our eyes. Thus are two ideas as oppoſite as can be imagined reconciled in the ex⯑tremes of both; and both in ſpite of their oppoſite nature brought to concur in producing the ſublime. And this is not the only inſtance wherein the oppoſite extremes operate equally in favour of the ſublime, which in all things abhors mediocrity.—Ibid.

DIGNITY.

DIGNITY, hitherto, has belonged to the mode of proceeding, not to the matter of a treaty. Never before has it been mentioned as the ſtandard for rating the conditions of peace; no, never by the moſt violent of conquerors. Indemnity is capable of ſome eſtimate; dignity has no ſtandard.—Regi⯑cide Peace.

DEBT (CIVIL).

THERE are two capital faults in our law with re⯑lation to civil debts. One is, that every man is pre⯑ſumed ſolvent. A preſumption, in innumerable caſes, directly againſt truth. Therefore the debtor is ordered, on a ſuppoſition of ability and fraud, to be coerced his liberty until he makes payment. By this means, in all caſes of civil inſolvency without a pardon from his creditor, he is to be impriſoned for life:—and thus a miſerable miſtaken invention of artificial ſcience, operates to change a civil into a criminal judgment, and to ſcourge misfortune or in⯑diſcretion with a puniſhment which the law does not inflict on the greateſt crimes.

[75]The next fault is, that the inflicting of that puniſh⯑ment is not on the opinion of an equal and public judge; but is referred to the arbitrary diſcretion of a private, nay intereſted, and irritated individual. He, who formally is, and ſubſtantially ought to be, the judge, is in reality no more than miniſterial, a mere executive inſtrument of a private man, who is at once judge and party. Every idea of judicial order is ſub⯑verted by this procedure. If the inſolvency be no crime, why is it puniſhed with arbitrary impriſonment? If it be a crime, why is it delivered into private hands to pardon without diſcretion, or to puniſh without mercy and without meaſure?—Speech previous to the Election at Briſtol.

DISCONTENTS (NATIONAL.)

TO complain of the age we live in, to murmur at the preſent poſſeſſors of power, to lament the paſt, to conceive extravagant hopes of the future, are the common diſpoſitions of the greateſt part of mankind; indeed the neceſſary effects of the ignorance and levity of the vulgar. Such complaints and humours have exiſted in all times; yet as all times have not been alike, true political ſagacity manifeſts itſelf, in diſtinguiſhing that complaint which only characterizes the general infirmity of human nature, from thoſe which are ſymptoms of the particular diſtemperature of our own air and ſeaſon.—Thoughts on the Cauſe of the preſent Diſcontents.

EMPIRE DEFINED.

AN empire is the aggregate of many ſtates, under one common head; whether this head be a monarch, or a preſiding republic.—Speech on Conciliation with America.

ESTABLISHMENTS (OLD).

THESE old eſtabliſhments were formed alſo on a third principle, ſtill more adverſe to the living oeco⯑nomy of the age. They were formed, Sir, on the principle of purveyance, and receipt in kind. In former days, when the houſehold was vaſt, and the ſupply ſcanty and precarious, the royal purveyors, ſallying forth from under the gothic portcullis, to purchaſe proviſion with power and prerogative, in⯑ſtead of money, brought home the plunder of an hundred markets, and all that could be ſeized from a flying and hiding country, and depoſited their ſpoil in an hundred caverns, with each its keeper. There, every commodity, received in its raweſt condition, went through all the proceſs which fitted it for uſe. This inconvenient receipt produced an oeconomy ſuited only to itſelf. It multiplied offices beyond all meaſure; buttery, pantry, and all that rabble of places, which, though profitable to the holders and expenſive to the ſtate, are almoſt too mean to men⯑tion.—Oeconomical Reform.

ENGLISH YOUTH IN INDIA.

THE natives ſcarcely know what it is to ſee the grey head of an Engliſhman. Young men (boys almoſt) govern there, without ſociety, and without ſympathy with the natives. They have no more ſocial habits with the people, than if they ſtill reſided in England; nor indeed any ſpecies of intercourſe but that which is neceſſary to making a ſudden for⯑tune, with a view to a remote ſettlement. Animated with all the avarice of age, and all the impetuoſity of youth, they roll in one after another, wave after wave, and there is nothing before the eyes of the natives but an endleſs, hopeleſs proſpect of new flights of birds of prey and paſſage, with appetites continually renewing for a food that is continually waſting.

[77]There is nothing in the boys we ſend to India worſe than the boys whom we are whipping at ſchool, or that we ſee trailing a pike, or bending over a deſk at home. But as Engliſh youth in India drink the intoxicating draught of authority and dominion be⯑fore their heads are able to bear it, and as they are full grown in fortune long before they are ripe in principle, neither nature nor reaſon have any oppor⯑tunity to exert themſelves for remedy of the exceſſes of their premature power. The conſequences of their conduct, which in good minds, (and many of theirs are probably ſuch) might produce penitence or amendment, are unable to purſue the rapidity of their flight. Their prey is lodged in England; and the cries of India are given to ſeas and winds, to be blown about, in every breaking up of the monſoon, over a remote and unhearing ocean.—Speech on Mr. Fox's Eaſt India Bill.

EXTENSION DEFINED.

EXTENSION is either in length, height, or depth. Of theſe the length ſtrikes leaſt; an hundred yards of even ground will never work ſuch an effect as a tower an hundred yards high, or a rock or mountain of that altitude. I am apt to imagine likewiſe, that height is leſs grand than depth; and that we are more ſtruck at looking down from a precipice, than look⯑ing up at an object of equal height; but of that I am not very poſitive. A perpendicular has more force in forming the ſublime, than an inclined plain; and the effects of a rugged and broken ſurface ſeem ſtronger than where it is ſmooth and poliſhed. It would carry us out of our way to enter in this place into the cauſe of theſe appearances; but certain it is they afford a large and fruitful field of ſpeculation. However, it may not be amiſs to add to theſe re⯑marks upon magnitude, that, as the great extreme of dimenſion is ſublime, ſo the laſt extreme of littleneſs [78] is in ſome meaſure ſublime likewiſe; when we attend to the infinite diviſibility of matter, when we purſue animal life into theſe exceſſively ſmall, and yet or⯑ganized beings, that eſcape the niceſt inquiſition of the ſenſe, when we puſh our diſcoveries yet down⯑ward, and conſider thoſe creatures ſo many degrees yet ſmaller, and the ſtill diminiſhing ſcale of exiſt⯑ence, in tracing which the imagination is loſt as well as the ſenſe, we become amazed and confounded at the wonders of minuteneſs; nor can we diſtinguiſh in its effect this extreme of littleneſs from the vaſt itſelf. For diviſion muſt be infinite as well as addi⯑tion; becauſe the idea of a perfect unity can no more be arrived at, than that of a complete whole, to which nothing can be added.—Sublime and Beautiful.

EYE.

I think then, that the beauty of the eye conſiſts, firſt, in its clearneſs; what coloured eye ſhall pleaſe moſt, depends a good deal on particular fancies; but none are pleaſed with an eye whoſe water (to uſe that term) is dull and muddy. We are pleaſed with the eye in this view, on the principle upon which we like diamonds, clear water, glaſs, and ſuch like tranſpa⯑rent ſubſtances. Secondly, the motion of the eye contributes to its beauty, by continually ſhifting its direction; but a ſlow and languid motion is more beautiful than a briſk one; the latter is enlivening; the former lovely. Thirdly, with regard to the union of the eye with the neighbouring parts, it is to hold the ſame rule that is given of other beautiful ones; it is not to make a ſtrong deviation from the line of the neighbouring parts; nor to verge into any exact geometrical figure.—Ibid.

ECCLESIASTICS.

OUR education is in a manner wholly in the hands of eccleſiaſtics, and in all ſtages from infancy to manhood. Even when our youth, leaving ſchools and univerſities, enter that moſt important period of life which begins to link experience and ſtudy toge⯑ther, and when with that view they viſit other coun⯑tries, inſtead of old domeſtics whom we have ſeen as governors to principal men from other parts, three-fourths of thoſe who go abroad with our young no⯑bility and gentlemen are eccleſiaſtics; not as auſtere maſters, nor as mere followers; but as friends and companions of a graver character, and not ſeldom perſons as well born as themſelves. With them, as relations, they moſt commonly keep up a cloſe con⯑nexion through life. By this connexion we conceive that we attach our gentlemen to the church; and we liberalize the church by an intercourſe with the lead⯑ing characters of the country.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

ENGLISH CHARACTER.

FOUR hundred years have gone over us; but I believe we are not materially changed ſince that pe⯑riod. Thanks to our ſullen reſiſtance to innovation, thanks to the cold ſluggiſhneſs of our national cha⯑racter, we ſtill bear the ſtamp of our forefathers. We have not (as I conceive) loſt the generoſity and dignity of thinking of the fourteenth century; nor as yet have we ſubtilized ourſelves into ſavages. We are not the converts of Rouſſeau; we are not the diſciples of Voltaire; Helvetius has made no progreſs amongſt us. Atheiſts are not our preachers; madmen are not our lawgivers. We know that we have made no diſcoveries; and we think that no diſcoveries are to be made in morality; nor many in the great principles of government, nor in the ideas of liberty, which were underſtood long before we [80] were born, altogether as well as they will be after the grave has heaped its mould upon our preſump⯑tion, and the ſilent tomb ſhall have impoſed its law on our pert loquacity. In England we have not yet been completely embowelled of our natural entrails; we ſtill feel within us, and we cheriſh and cultivate thoſe inbred ſentiments which are the faithful guar⯑dians, the active monitors of our duty, the true ſup⯑porters of all liberal and manly morals. We have not been drawn and truſſed, in order that we may be filled, like ſtuffed birds in a muſeum, with chaff and rags, and paltry blurred ſhreds of paper about the rights of man. We preſerve the whole of our feelings ſtill native and entire, unſophiſticated by pe⯑dantry and infidelity. We have real hearts of fleſh and blood beating in our boſoms. We fear God; we look up with awe to kings; with affection to par⯑liaments; with duty to magiſtrates; with reverence to prieſts; and with reſpect to nobility^*. Becauſe when ſuch ideas are brought before our minds, it is natural to be ſo affected: becauſe all other feelings are falſe and ſpurious, and tend to corrupt our minds, to vitiate our primary morals, to render us unfit for rational liberty; and by teaching us a ſervile, licentious, and abandoned inſolence, to be our low ſport for a few holidays, to make us perfectly fit for, and juſtly deſerving of ſlavery, through the whole courſe of our lives.

You ſee, Sir, that in this enlightened age I am bold enough to confeſs, that we are generally men [81] of untaught feelings; that inſtead of caſting away all our old prejudices, we cheriſh them to a very conſiderable degree, and, to take more ſhame to ourſelves, we cheriſh them becauſe they are preju⯑dices; and the longer they have laſted, and the more generally they have prevailed, the more we cheriſh them. We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private ſtock of reaſon; becauſe we ſuſpect that this ſtock in each man is ſmall, and that the individuals would do better to avail them⯑ſelves of the general bank and capital of nations, and of ages. Many of our men of ſpeculation, in⯑ſtead of exploding general prejudices, employ their ſagacity to diſcover the latent wiſdom which prevails in them. If they find what they ſeek, and they ſel⯑dom fail, they think it more wiſe to continue the prejudice, with the reaſon involved, than to caſt away the coat of prejudice, and to leave nothing but the naked reaſon; becauſe prejudice, with its reaſon, has a motive to give action to that reaſon, and an affection which will give it permanence. Prejudice is of ready application in the emergency; it previ⯑ouſly engages the mind in a ſteady courſe of wiſdom and virtue, and does not leave the man heſitating in the moment of deciſion, ſceptical, puzzled, and un⯑reſolved. Prejudice renders a man's virtue his habit; and not a ſeries of unconnected acts. Through juſt prejudice his duty becomes a part of his nature.—Ibid.

FRANCE. Old Conſtitution of France—Conſequences of the Revolution.

YOU might, if you pleaſed, have profited of our example, and have given to your recovered freedom a correſpondent dignity. Your privileges, though diſcontinued, were not loſt to memory. Your con⯑ſtitution, [82] it is true, whilſt you were out of poſſeſſion, ſuffered waſte and dilapidation; but you poſſeſſed in ſome parts the walls, and in all the foundations of a noble and venerable caſtle. You might have re⯑paired thoſe walls; you might have built on thoſe old foundations. Your conſtitution was ſuſpended before it was perfected; but you had the elements of a conſtitution very nearly as good as could be wiſhed. In your old ſtates you poſſeſſed that variety of parts correſponding with the various deſcriptions of which your community was happily compoſed; you had all that combination, and all that oppoſition of in⯑tereſts, you had that action and counteraction which, in the natural and in the political world, from the reciprocal ſtruggle of diſcordant powers, draws out the harmony of the univerſe. Theſe oppoſed and conflicting intereſts, which you conſidered as ſo great a blemiſh in your old and in our preſent con⯑ſtitution, interpoſe a ſalutary check to all precipitate reſolutions. They render deliberation a matter not of choice, but of neceſſity; they make all change a ſubject of compromiſe, which naturally begets mode⯑ration; they produce temperaments, preventing the ſore evil of harſh, crude, unqualified reformations; and rendering all the headlong exertions of arbi⯑trary power, in the few or in the many, for ever im⯑practicable. Through that diverſity of members and intereſts, general liberty had as many ſecurities as there were ſeparate views in the ſeveral orders; whilſt by preſſing down the whole by the weight of a real monarchy, the ſeparate parts would have been prevented from warping and ſtarting from their al⯑lotted places.

You had all theſe advantages in your ancient ſtates; but you choſe to act as if you had never been mould⯑ed into civil ſociety, and had every thing to begin anew. You began ill, becauſe you began by de⯑ſpiſing every thing that belonged to you. You ſet up your trade without a capital. If the laſt genera⯑tions [83] of your country appeared without much luſtre in your eyes, you might have paſſed them by, and derived your claims from a more early race of an⯑ceſtors, Under a pious predilection for thoſe an⯑ceſtors, your imaginations would have realized in them a ſtandard of virtue and wiſdom, beyond the vulgar practice of the hour: and you would have riſen with the example to whoſe imitation you aſpired. Reſpecting your forefathers, you would have been taught to reſpect yourſelves. You would not have choſen to conſider the French as a people of yeſ⯑terday, as a nation of low-born ſervile wretches until the emancipating year of 1789. In order to furniſh, at the expence of your honour, an excuſe to your apologiſts here for ſeveral enormities of yours, you would not have been content to be repreſented as a gang of Maroon ſlaves, ſuddenly broke looſe from the houſe of bondage, and therefore to be pardoned for your abuſe of the liberty to which you were not accuſtomed, and ill fitted. Would it not, my worthy friend, have been wiſer to have you thought, what I, for one, always thought you, a generous and gallant nation, long miſled to your diſadvantage by your high and romantic ſentiments of fidelity, ho⯑nour, and loyalty; that events had been unfavour⯑able to you, but that you were not enſlaved through any illiberal or ſervile diſpoſition; that in your moſt devoted ſubmiſſion, you were actuated by a principle of public ſpirit, and that it was your country you worſhipped, in the perſon of your king? Had you made it to be underſtood, that in the deluſion of this amiable error you had gone further than your wiſe anceſtors; that you were reſolved to reſume your ancient privileges, whilſt you preſerved the ſpirit of your ancient and your recent loyalty and honour; or, if diffident of yourſelves, and not clearly diſ⯑cerning the almoſt obliterated conſtitution of your anceſtors, you had looked to your neighbours in this land, who had kept alive the ancient principles and [84] models of the old common law of Europe melio⯑rated and adapted to its preſent ſtate—by following wiſe examples you would have given new examples of wiſdom to the world. You would have rendered the cauſe of liberty venerable in the eyes of every worthy mind in every nation. You would have ſhamed deſpotiſm from the earth, by ſhewing that freedom was not only reconcileable, but as, when well diſciplined, it is auxiliary to law. You would have had an unoppreſſive but a productive revenue. You would have had a flouriſhing commerce to feed it. You would have had a free conſtitution; a po⯑tent monarchy; a diſciplined army; a reformed and venerated clergy; a mitigated but ſpirited nobility, to lead your virtue, not to overlay it; you would have had a liberal order of commons, to emulate and to recruit that nobility; you would have had a pro⯑tected, ſatisfied, laborious, and obedient people, taught to ſeek and to recognize the happineſs that is to be found by virtue in all conditions; in which conſiſts the true moral equality of mankind, and not in that monſtrous fiction, which, by inſpiring falſe ideas and vain expectations into men deſtined to travel in the obſcure walk of laborious life, ſerves only to aggra⯑vate and imbitter that real inequality, which it never can remove; and which the order of civil life eſta⯑bliſhes as much for the benefit of thoſe whom it muſt leave in an humble ſtate, as thoſe whom it is able to exalt to a condition more ſplendid, but not more happy. You had a ſmooth and eaſy career of felicity and glory laid open to you, beyond any thing re⯑corded in the hiſtory of the world; but you have ſhewn that difficulty is good for man.

Compute your gains: ſee what is got by thoſe ex⯑travagant and preſumptuous ſpeculations which have taught your leaders to deſpiſe all their predeceſſors, and all their contemporaries, and even to deſpiſe themſelves, until the moment in which they became truly deſpicable. By following thoſe falſe lights, [85] France has bought undiſguiſed calamities at a higher price than any nation has purchaſed the moſt un⯑equivocal bleſſings! France has bought poverty by crime! France has not ſacrificed her virtue to her intereſt; but ſhe has abandoned her intereſt, that ſhe might proſtitute her virtue. All other nations have begun the fabric of a new government, or the refor⯑mation of an old, by eſtabliſhing originally, or by enforcing with greater exactneſs ſome rites or other of religion. All other people have laid the founda⯑tions of civil freedom in ſeverer manners, and a ſyſtem of a more auſtere and maſculine morality. France, when ſhe let looſe the reins of regal autho⯑rity, doubled the licence, of a ferocious diſſolute⯑neſs in manners, and of an inſolent irreligion in opinions and practices; and has extended through all ranks of life, as if ſhe were communicating ſome privilege, or laying open ſome ſecluded benefit, all the unhappy corruptions that uſually were the diſeaſe of wealth and power. This is one of the new prin⯑ciples of equality in France.

France, by the perfidy of her leaders, has utterly diſgraced the tone of lenient council in the cabinets of princes, and diſarmed it of its moſt potent topics. She has ſanctified the dark ſuſpicious maxims of tyrannous diſtruſt; and taught kings to tremble at (what will hereafter be called) the deluſive plauſibi⯑lities of moral politicians. Sovereigns will conſider thoſe who adviſe them to place an unlimited confi⯑dence in their people, as ſubverters of their thrones; as traitors who aim at their deſtruction, by leading their eaſy good-nature, under ſpecious pretences, to admit combinations of bold and faithleſs men into a participation of their power. This alone (if there were nothing elſe) is an irreparable calamity to you and to mankind. Remember that your parliament of Paris told your king, that in calling the ſtates to⯑gether, he had nothing to fear but the prodigal exceſs of their zeal in providing for the ſupport of the [86] throne. It is right that theſe men ſhould hide their heads. It is right that they ſhould bear their part in the ruin which their counſel has brought on their ſovereign and their country. Such ſanguine decla⯑rations tend to lull authority aſleep; to encourage it raſhly to engage in perilous adventures of untried policy; to neglect thoſe proviſions, preparations, and precautions, which diſtinguiſh benevolence from im⯑becility; and without which no man can anſwer for the ſalutary effect of any abſtract plan of govern⯑ment or of freedom. For want of theſe, they have ſeen the medicine of the ſtate corrupted into its poi⯑ſon. They have ſeen the French rebel againſt a mild and lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage, and inſult, than ever any people has been known to riſe againſt the moſt illegal uſurper, or the moſt ſangui⯑nary tyrant. Their reſiſtance was made to conceſ⯑ſion; their revolt was from protection; their blow was aimed at an hand holding out graces, favours, and immunities.

This was unnatural. The reſt is in order. They have found their puniſhment in their ſucceſs. Laws overturned; tribunals ſubverted; induſtry without vigour; commerce expiring; the revenue unpaid, ye the people impoveriſhed; a church pillaged, and a ſtate not relieved; civil and military anarchy made the conſtitution of the kingdom; every thing human and divine ſacrificed to the idol of public credit, and national bankruptcy the conſequence; and to crown all, the paper ſecurities of new, precarious, tottering power, the diſcredited paper ſecurities of impove⯑riſhed fraud, and beggared rapine, held out as a cur⯑rency for the ſupport of an empire, in lieu of the two great recognized ſpecies that repreſent the laſting conventional credit of mankind, which diſappeared and hid themſelves in the earth from whence they came, when the principle of poverty, whoſe crea⯑tures and repreſentatives they are, ſyſtematically ſub⯑verted.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

FRENCH BISHOPS.

YOU had before your revolution about one hun⯑dred and twenty biſhops. A few of them were men of eminent ſanctity. When we talk of the heroic, of courſe we talk of rare virtue. I believe the in⯑ſtances of eminent depravity may be as rare amongſt them as thoſe of tranſcendent goodneſs. Examples of avarice and of licentiouſneſs may be picked out, I do not queſtion it, by thoſe who delight in the in⯑veſtigation which leads to ſuch diſcoveries. A man, as old as I am, will not be aſtoniſhed that ſeveral, in every deſcription, do not lead that perfect life of ſelf-denial, with regard to wealth or to pleaſure, which is wiſhed for by all, by ſome expected, but by none exacted with more rigour, than by thoſe who are the moſt attentive to their own intereſts, or the moſt indulgent to their own paſſions. When I was in France, I am certain that the number of vici⯑ous prelates was not great. Certain individuals among them, not diſtinguiſhable for the regularity of their lives, made ſome amends for their want of the ſevere virtues, in their poſſeſſion of the liberal; and were endowed with qualities which made them uſeful in the church and ſtate. I am told, that with few exceptions, Louis the Sixteenth had been more attentive to character, in his promotions to that rank, than his immediate predeceſſor; and I believe, (as ſome ſpirit of reform has prevailed through the whole reign) that it may be true. But the preſent ruling power has ſhewn a diſpoſition only to plunder the church. It has puniſhed all prelates; which is to favour the vicious, at leaſt, in point of reputa⯑tion. It has made a degrading penſionary eſtabliſh⯑ment, to which no man, of liberal ideas, or liberal condition will deſtine his children. It muſt ſettle into the loweſt claſſes of the people. As with you the inferior clergy are not numerous enough for their duties; as theſe duties are, beyond meaſure, minute [88] and toilſome; as you have left no middle claſſes of clergy at their eaſe, in future nothing of ſcience or erudition can exiſt in the Gallican church. To complete the project, without the leaſt attention to the rights of patrons, the aſſembly has provided in future an elective clergy; an arrangement which will drive out of the clerical profeſſion all men of ſo⯑briety; all who can pretend to independence in their function or their conduct; and which will throw the whole direction of the public mind into the hands of a ſet of licentious, bold, crafty, factious, flattering wretches, of ſuch condition and ſuch habits of life as will make their contemptible penſions (in com⯑pariſon of which the ſtipend of an exciſeman is lu⯑crative and honourable) an object of low and illiberal intrigue. Thoſe officers, whom they ſtill call biſhops, are to be elected to a proviſion comparatively mean, through the ſame arts, (that is, electioneering arts) by men of all religious tenets that are known or can be invented. The new lawgivers have not aſcertained any thing whatſoever concerning their qualifications, relative either to doctrine or to morals; no more than they have done with regard to the ſubordinate clergy; nor does it appear but that both the higher and the lower may, at their diſcretion, practiſe or preach any mode of religion or irreligion that they pleaſe. I do not yet ſee what the juriſdiction of biſhops over their ſubordinates is to be; or whether they are to have any juriſdiction at all.—Ibid.

FRENCH CLERGY.

WHEN my occaſions took me into France, to⯑wards the cloſe of the late reign, the clergy, under all their forms, engaged a conſiderable part of my curioſity. So far from finding (except from one ſet of men, not then very numerous, though very active) the complaints and diſcontents againſt that body, [89] which ſome publications had given me reaſon to expect, I perceived little or no public or private uneaſineſs on their account. On further examina⯑tion, I found the clergy in general, perſons of mode⯑rate minds and decorous manners; I include the ſe⯑culars, and the regulars of both ſexes. I had not the good fortune to know a great many of the paro⯑chial clergy; but in general I received a perfectly good account of their morals, and of their attention to their duties. With ſome of the higher clergy I had a perſonal acquaintance; and of the reſt in that claſs, very good means of information. They were, almoſt all of them, perſons of noble birth. They reſembled others of their own rank; and where there was any difference, it was in their favour. They were more fully educated than the military nobleſſe; ſo as by no means to diſgrace their profeſſion by ig⯑norance, or by want of fitneſs for the exerciſe of their authority. They ſeemed to me, beyond the clerical character, liberal and open; with the hearts of gen⯑tlemen, and men of honour; neither inſolent nor ſervile in their manners and conduct. They ſeemed to me rather a ſuperior claſs; a ſet of men, amongſt whom you would not be ſurprized to find a Fenelon. I ſaw among the clergy in Paris (many of the de⯑ſcription are not to be met with any where) men of great learning and candour; and I had reaſon to be⯑lieve, that this deſcription was not confined to Paris. What I found in other places, I know was accidental; and therefore to be preſumed a fair ſample. I ſpent a few days in a provincial town, where, in the abſence of the biſhop, I paſſed my evenings with three cler⯑gymen, his vicars general, perſons who would have done honour to any church. They were all well in⯑formed; two of them of deep, general, and extenſive erudition, ancient and modern, oriental and weſtern; particularly in their own profeſſion. They had a more extenſive knowledge of our Engliſh divines than I expected; and they entered into the genius of thoſe [90] writers with a critical accuracy. One of theſe gen⯑tlemen is ſince dead, the Abbé Morangis. I pay this tribute, without reluctance, to the memory of that noble, reverend, learned, and excellent perſon; and I ſhould do the ſame, with equal chearfulneſs, to the merits of the others, who, I believe, are ſtill liv⯑ing, if I did not fear to hurt thoſe whom I am unable to ſerve.

Some of theſe eccleſiaſtics of rank, are, by all titles, perſons deſerving of general reſpect. They are deſerving of gratitude from me, and from many Engliſh. If this letter ſhould ever come into their hands, I hope they will believe there are thoſe of our nation who feel for their unmerited fall, and for the cruel confiſcation of their fortunes, with no common ſenſibility. What I ſay of them is a teſtimony, as far as one feeble voice can go, which I owe to truth. Whenever the queſtion of this unnatural perſecution is concerned, I will pay it. No one ſhall prevent me from being juſt and grateful. The time is fitted for the duty; and it is particularly becoming to ſhew our juſtice and gratitude, when thoſe who have de⯑ſerved well of us and of mankind are labouring un⯑der popular obloquy and the perſecutions of oppreſ⯑ſive power.—Ibid.

FRENCH NOBILITY.

BUT the nobility of France are degenerated ſince the days of Henry the Fourth.—This is poſſible. But it is more than I can believe to be true in any great degree. I do not pretend to know France as correctly as ſome others; but I have endeavoured through my whole life to make myſelf acquainted with human nature: otherwiſe I ſhould be unfit to take even my humble part in the ſervice of mankind. In that ſtudy I could not paſs by a vaſt portion of our nature, as it appeared modified in a country but twenty-four miles from the ſhore of this iſland. On [91] my beſt obſervation, compared with my beſt enqui⯑ries, I found your nobility for the greater part com⯑poſed of men of an high ſpirit, and of a delicate ſenſe of honour, both with regard to themſelves in⯑dividually, and with regard to their whole corps, over whom they kept, beyond what is common in other countries, a cenſorial eye. They were toler⯑ably well-bred; very officious, humane, and hoſ⯑pitable; in their converſation frank and open; with a good military tone; and reaſonably tinctured with literature, particularly of the authors in their own lan⯑guage. Many had pretenſions far above this deſcrip⯑tion. I ſpeak of thoſe who were generally met with.—Ibid.

FRENCH GENTLEMEN.

THE great object of your tyrants is to deſtroy the gentlemen of France; and for that purpoſe they de⯑ſtroy, to the beſt of their power, all the effect of thoſe relations which may render conſiderable men power⯑ful 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 ſym⯑pathies of this Nouvelle Eloiſe, they endeavour to ſubvert thoſe principles of domeſtic truſt and fidelity, which form the diſcipline of ſocial life. They pro⯑pagate 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 fa⯑ther of a family loſes the ſanctuary of his houſe. Debet ſua cuique domus eſſe perfugium tu tiſſimum, 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; turn⯑ing the aſylum of the houſe into a gloomy priſon, where the father of the family muſt drag out a mi⯑ſerable exiſtence, endangered in proportion to the apparent means of his ſafety; where he is worſe than [92] ſolitary in a croud of domeſtics, and more appre⯑henſive from his ſervants and inmates, than from the hired blood-thirſty mob without doors, who are ready to pull him to the lanterne.—Ibid.

FRENCH MANNERS.

IT is not clear, whether in England we learned thoſe grand and decorous principles and manners, of which conſiderable traces yet remain, from you, or whether you took them from us. But to you, I think, we trace them beſt. You ſeem to me to be—gentis incunabula noſtrae. France has always more or leſs influenced manners in England; and when your fountain is choaked up and polluted, the ſtream will not run long, or not run clear with us, or perhaps with any nation. This gives all Europe, in my opi⯑nion, but too cloſe and connected a concern in what is done in France. Excuſe me, therefore, if I have dwelt too long on the atrocious ſpectacle of the ſixth of October, 1789, or have given too much ſcope to the reflections which have ariſen in my mind on occaſion of the moſt important of all revo⯑lutions, which may be dated from that day, I mean a revolution in ſentiments, manners, and moral opi⯑nions. As things now ſtand, with every thing re⯑ſpectable deſtroyed without us, and an attempt to deſtroy within us every principle of reſpect, one is almoſt forced to apologize for harbouring the com⯑mon feelings of men.—Ibid.

FRENCH ASSEMBLY.

ALREADY there appears a poverty of conception, a coarſeneſs and vulgarity in all the proceedings of the aſſembly and of all their inſtructors. Their li⯑berty is not liberal; their ſcience is preſumptuous ignorance; their humanity is ſavage and brutal.

[93]The aſſembly, their organ, acts before them the farce of deliberation with as little decency as liberty. They act like the comedians of a fair before a riotous audience; they act amidſt the tumultuous cries of a mixed mob of ferocious men, and of women loſt to ſhame, who, according to their inſolent fancies, direct, control, applaud, explode them; and ſome⯑times mix and take their ſeats amongſt them; domi⯑neering over them with a ſtrange mixture of ſervile petulance and proud preſumptuous authority. As they have inverted order in all things, the gallery is in the place of the houſe. This aſſembly, which overthrows kings and kingdoms, has not even the phyſiognomy and aſpect of a grave legiſlative body—nec color imperii, nec frons erat ulla ſenatus. They have a power given to them, like that of the evil principle, to ſubvert and deſtroy, but none to con⯑ſtruct, except ſuch machines as may be fitted for further ſubverſion and further deſtruction.—Ibid.

FRENCH CLUBS.

IN theſe meetings of all ſorts, every counſel, in proportion as it is daring, and violent, and perfidious, is taken for the mark of ſuperior genius. Huma⯑nity and compaſſion are ridiculed as the fruits of ſuperſtition and ignorance. Tenderneſs to indivi⯑duals is conſidered as treaſon to the public. Liberty is always to be eſtimated perfect as property is ren⯑dered inſecure. Amidſt aſſaſſination, maſſacre, and confiſcation, perpetrated or meditated, they are forming plans for the good order of future ſociety. Embracing in their arms the carcaſes of baſe crimi⯑nals, and promoting their relations on the title of their offences, they drive hundreds of virtuous per⯑ſons to the ſame end, by forcing them to ſubſiſt by beggary or by crime.—Ibid.

FRENCH FACTION.

THE faction is not local or territorial. It is a general evil. Where it leaſt appears in action, it is ſtill full of life. In its ſleep it recruits its ſtrength, and prepares its exertion; its ſpirit lies deep in the corruptions of our common nature. The ſocial order which reſtrains it, feeds it. It exiſts in every coun⯑try in Europe; and among all orders of men in every country, who look up to France as to a common head. The centre is there. The circumference is the world of Europe, wherever the race of Europe may be ſettled. Every where elſe the faction is mi⯑litant; in France it is triumphant; in France is the bank of depoſit, and the bank of circulation, of all the pernicious principles that are forming in every ſtate. It will be a folly ſcarcely deſerving of pity, and too miſchievous for contempt, to think of re⯑ſtraining it in any other country whilſt it is predomi⯑nant there.—Regicide Peace.

FRENCH PHILOSOPHERS.

THE politicians ſoon found that they could not do without the philoſophers; and the philoſophers ſoon made them ſenſible, that the deſtruction of religion was to ſupply them with means of conqueſt firſt at home, and then abroad. The philoſophers were the active internal agitators, and ſupplied the ſpirit and principles; the ſecond gave the general direction.—Sometimes the one predominated in the compoſition, ſometimes the other. The only difference between them was in the neceſſity of concealing the general deſign for a time, and in dealing with foreign nations; the fanatics going ſtraight forward and openly, the politicians by the ſurer mode of zig-zag. In the courſe of events, this, among other cauſes, produced fierce and bloody contentions between them; but at the bottom they thoroughly agreed in all the objects of ambition and irreligion, and ſubſtantially in all the means of promoting theſe ends.—Ibid.

FRANCE (ANCIENT.)

YOU may call this France, if you pleaſe; but of the ancient France nothing remains but its dangerous and central geography, its iron frontier, its ſpirit of ambition, its audacity of enterpriſe, its perplexing intrigue. Theſe, and theſe alone remain; and they remain heightened in their principle and augmented in their means. All the old correctives, whether of virtue or of weakneſs, which exiſted in the old monarchy, are gone. No ſingle corrective is to be foung in the whole body of the new inſtitutions.—How ſhould ſuch a thing be found there, when every thing has been choſen with care and ſelection to for⯑ward all thoſe ambitious deſigns and diſpoſitions, not to control them? The whole is a body of ways and means for the ſupply of dominion, without one heterogeneous particle in it.—Ibid.

FRANCE (STATE OF) IN THE YEAR 1780.

WHEN I look to the other ſide of the water, I cannot help recollecting what Pyrrhus ſaid on recon⯑noitring the Roman camp, ‘"Theſe barbarians have nothing barbarous in their diſcipline."’ When I look, as I have pretty carefully looked, into the proceedings of the French king, I am ſorry to ſay it, I ſee nothing of the character and genius of arbitrary finance; none of the bold frauds of bankrupt power; none of the wild ſtruggles and plunges of deſpotiſm in diſtreſs; no lopping off from the capital of debt; no ſuſpenſion of intereſt; no robbery under the name of loan; no raiſing the value, no debaſing the ſubſtance of the coin. I ſee neither Louis the Four⯑teenth nor Louis the Fifteenth. On the contrary, I behold with aſtoniſhment, riſing before me, by the very hands of arbitrary power, and in the very midſt of war and confuſion, a regular, methodical ſyſtem of public credit; I behold a fabric laid on the na⯑tural and ſolid foundations of truſt and confidence [96] among men, and riſing, by fair gradations, order over order, according to the juſt rules of ſymmetry and art. What a reverſe of things! Principle, me⯑thod, regularity, economy, frugality, juſtice to in⯑dividuals, and care of the people, are the reſources with which France makes war upon Great Britain. God avert the omen! But if we ſhould ſee any genius in war and politics ariſe in France, to ſecond what is done in the bureau!—I turn my eyes from the conſequences.—Oecon. Reform.

FRANCE (BODY POLITIC OF.)

THE body politic of France exiſted in the majeſty of its throne; in the dignity of its nobility; in the honour of its gentry; in the ſanctity of its clergy; in the reverence of its magiſtracy; in the weight and conſideration due to its landed property; in the re⯑ſpect due to its moveable ſubſtance repreſented by the corporations of the kingdom in all countries. All theſe particular moleculae united, form the great maſs of what is truly the body politic. They are ſo many depoſits and receptacles of juſtice; becauſe they can only exiſt by juſtice. Nation is a moral eſſence, not a geographical arrangement, or a denomination of the nomenclator. France, though out of her territorial poſſeſſion, exiſts; becauſe the ſole poſſible claimant, I mean the proprietary, and the government to which the proprietary adheres, exiſts and claims. God forbid, that if you were expelled from your houſe by ruffians and aſſaſſins, that I ſhould call the mate⯑rial walls, doors, and windows of —, the an⯑cient and honourable family of —. Am I to transfer to the intruders, who, not content to turn you out naked to the world, would rob you of your very name, all the eſteem and reſpect I owe to you?—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

FRANCE. Republics of Algiers and France compared.

I KNOW ſomething of the conſtitution and compo⯑ſition of this very extraordinary republic. It has a conſtitution, I admit, ſimilar to the preſent tumul⯑tuous military tyranny of France, by which an handful of obſcure ruſſians domineer over a fertile country and a brave people. For the compoſition, too, I admit, the Algerine community reſembles that of France, being the very ſcum, ſcandal, diſgrace, and peſt of the Turkiſh Aſia. The Grand Seignior, to diſburthen the country, ſuffers the Dey to recruit, in his dominions, the corps of Janiſſaries, or Aſaphs which form the Directory, or Council of Elders of the African Republic, one and indiviſible. But notwithſtanding this reſemblance, which I allow, I never ſhall ſo far injure the Janiſſarian republic of Algiers, as to put it in compariſon for every ſort of crime, turpitude, and oppreſſion, with the Jacobin republic of Paris. There is no queſtion with me to which of the two I ſhould chuſe to be a neighbour or a ſubject. But ſituated as I am, I am in no danger of becoming to Algiers either the one or the other. It is not ſo in my relation to the atheiſtical fanatics of France. Have the gentlemen, who borrowed this happy parallel, no idea of the different conduct to be held with regard to the very ſame evil at an immenſe diſtance, and when it is at your door? when its power is enormous, as when it is comparatively as feeble as its diſtance is remote? and when there is a barrier of languages and uſages, which prevents your being corrupted through certain old correſpondences and habitudes, which cannot for a long time be ſo wholly taken away, as not to make many of your people ſuſceptible of contagion from horrible novelties that are introduced into every thing elſe? I can con⯑template, without horror, a royal or a national tyger [98] on the borders of Pegu. I can look at him, with an eaſy curioſity, as priſoner within bars in the mena⯑gerie of the Tower. But if, by Habeas Corpus, or otherwiſe, he was to come into the lobby of the Houſe of Commons, whilſt your door was open, any of you would be more ſtout than wiſe, who would not gladly make his eſcape out of the back windows. This ambaſſador from Bengal would diſperſe you ſooner than a diſſolution by Royal prerogative. I certainly ſhould dread more from a wild cat in my bed-chamber, than from all the lions that roar in the deſerts behind Algiers. But in this parallel it is the cat that is at a diſtance, and the lions and tygers that are in our anti-chambers and our lobbies. Algiers is not near; Algiers is not powerful; Algiers is not our neighbour; Algiers is not infectious. Algiers, what⯑ever it may be, is not an old creation; and we have good data to calculate all the miſchief to be expected from it. When I find Algiers transferred to Calais, I will tell you what I think of that point. In the mean time, the caſe quoted from the Algerine reports will not apply as authority. We ſhall put it out of court; and ſo far as that goes, let the counſel for the Jacobin peace take nothing by their motion.—Regi⯑cide Peace.

FRANCE. Preſident of the French Directory.

A STRANGE uncouth thing, a theatrical figure of the opera, his head ſhaded with three coloured plumes, his body fantaſtically habited, ſtrutted from the back ſcenes, and after a ſhort ſpeech, in the mock-heroic falſetto of ſtupid tragedy, delivered the gentleman who came to make the repreſentation into the cuſtody of a guard, with directions not to loſe ſight of him for a moment; and then ordered him to be ſent from Paris in two hours.—Ibid.

FRANCE (THEATRICAL AMUSEMENTS IN).

WHILST courts of juſtice were thruſt out by re⯑volutionary tribunals, and ſilent churches were only the funeral monuments of departed religion, no fewer than ten theatres were kept open at public expence. At one time I have reckoned fourteen of their adver⯑tiſements of public diverſion. Among the gaunt, haggard forms of famine and nakedneſs, amidſt the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries of deſpair, the ſong, the dance, the mimic ſcene, the buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay hour of feſtive peace. I have it from good autho⯑rity, that under the ſcaffold of judicial murder, and the gaping planks that poured down blood on the ſpectators, the ſpace was hired out for a ſhew of dancing dogs. I think, without conceit, we made the very ſame remark on reading ſome of their pieces, which being written for other purpoſes, let us into a view of their ſocial life.—Ibid.

FRENCH REVOLUTION COMPARED TO A NUI⯑SANCE.

IN deſcribing the nuiſance erected by ſo peſtilen⯑tial a manufactory, by conſtructing ſo infamous a brothel, by digging a night-cellar for ſuch thieves, murderers, and houſebreakers, as never infeſted the world, I am ſo far from aggravating, that I have fallen infinitely ſhort of the evil. No man who has attended to the particulars of what has been done in France, and combined them with the principles there aſſerted, can poſſibly doubt it. When I compare with this great cauſe of nations, the trifling points of honour, the ſtill more contemptible points of intereſt, the light ceremonies, the undefinable punctilios, the diſputes about precedency, the lowering or the hoiſt⯑ing of a ſail, the dealing in a hundred or two of wild cat-ſkins on the other ſide of the globe, which have [100] often kindled up the flames of war between nations, I ſtand aſtoniſhed at thoſe perſons who do not feel a reſentment, not more natural than politic, at the atrocious inſults that this monſtrous compound offers to the dignity of every nation, and who are not alarmed with what it threatens to their ſafety.—

FRANCE. Previous to the Revolution.

WHEN I conſider the face of the kingdom of France; the multitude and opulence of her cities; the uſeful magnificence of her ſpacious high roads and bridges; the opportunity of her artificial canals and navigations opening the conveniences of mari⯑time communication through a ſolid continent of ſo immenſe an extent; when I turn my eyes to the ſtupendous works of her ports and harbours, and to her whole naval apparatus, whether for war or trade; when I bring before my view the number of her for⯑tifications, conſtructed with ſo bold and maſterly a ſkill, and made and maintained at ſo prodigious a charge, preſenting an armed front and impenetrable barrier to her enemies upon every ſide; when I re⯑collect how very ſmall a part of that extenſive region is without cultivation, and to what complete perfec⯑tion the culture of many of the beſt productions of the earth have been brought in France; when I re⯑flect on the excellence of her manufactures and fabrics, ſecond to none but ours, and in ſome par⯑ticulars not ſecond; when I contemplate the grand foundations of charity, public and private; when I ſurvey the ſtate of all the arts that beautify and poliſh life; when I reckon the men ſhe has bred for ex⯑tending her ſame in war, her able ſtateſmen, the mul⯑titude of her profound lawyers and theologians, her philoſophers, her critics, her hiſtorians and antiqua⯑ries, her poets, and her orators, ſacred and profane, I behold in all this ſomething which awes and com⯑mands [101] the imagination, which checks the mind on the brink of precipitate and indiſcriminate cenſure, and which demands that we ſhould very ſeriouſly examine what and how great are the latent vices that could authoriſe us at once to level ſo ſpacious a fabric with the ground.—

FINANCIER.

THE objects of a financier are, then, to ſecure an ample revenue; to impoſe it with judgment and equality; to employ it oeconomically; and when ne⯑ceſſity obliges him to make uſe of credit, to ſecure its foundations in that inſtance, and for ever, by the clearneſs and candour of his proceedings, the exact⯑neſs of his calculations, and the ſolidity of his funds. On theſe heads we may take a ſhort and diſtinct view of the merits and abilities of thoſe in the National Aſſembly, who have taken to themſelves the manage⯑ment of this arduous concern. Far from any increaſe of revenue in their hands, I find, by a report of M. Vernier, from the Committee of Finances, of the ſecond of Auguſt laſt, that the amount of the national revenue, as compared with its produce before the revolution, was diminiſhed by the ſum of two hundred millions, or eight millions ſterling of the annual income, conſiderably more than one-third of the whole.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

FOREFATHERS.

A politic caution, a guarded circumſpection, a moral rather than a complexional timidity, were among the ruling principles of our forefathers in their moſt decided conduct. Not being illuminated with the light of which the gentlemen of France tell us they have got ſo abundant a ſhare, they acted under a ſtrong impreſſion of the ignorance and fallibility of mankind. He that had made them thus fallible, re⯑warded [102] them for having in their conduct attended to their nature. Let us imitate their caution, if we wiſh to deſerve their fortune, or to retain their be⯑queſts. Let us add, if we pleaſe, but let us preſerve what they have left; and, ſtanding on the firm ground of the Britiſh conſtitution, let us be ſatisfied to ad⯑mire rather than attempt to follow in their deſperate flights the aëronauts of France.—Ibid.

FANATICISM.

OF all things, wiſdom is the moſt terrified with epidemical fanaticiſm, becauſe, of all enemies it is that againſt which ſhe is the leaſt able to furniſh any kind of reſource.—Ibid.

FREEDOM (CIVIL.)

CIVIL freedom is not, as many have endeavoured to perſuade us, 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 geometry and metaphyſics, 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 cir⯑cumſtances of every community. The extreme of liberty (which is its abſtract perfection, but its real fault) obtains no where, 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. [103] The degree of reſtraint it is impoſſible in any caſe to ſettle preciſely. But it ought to be the conſtant aim of every wiſe public counſel, to find out by cautious experiments, and rational, cool endeavours, with how little, not how much of this reſtraint, the com⯑munity can ſubſiſt.—Letter to the Sheriffs of Briſtol.

FREEDOM.

WHILST freedom is true to itſelf, every thing becomes ſubject to it; and its very adverſaries are an inſtrument in its hands.—Speech at Briſtol, previous to the Election.

FRUGALITY.

FRUGALITY is founded on the principle, that all riches have limits.—Oeconomical Reform.

FRENZY.

DOES not become a ſlighter diſtemper on account of the number of thoſe who may be infected with it.—Ibid.

FRANCHISE AND OFFICE, (DIFFERENCE BETWEEN.)

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 made, 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) pro⯑teſtant [104] diſſenters from all civil and military employ⯑ments, 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.—Letter to Sir H. Langriſhe.

GAMING.

GAMING is a principle inherent in human nature. It belongs to us all.—Oeconomical Reform.

GRAVE.

THE common treaſury to which we muſt all be taxed.—Ibid.

GOOD.

IN doing good, we are generally cold, and languid and ſluggiſh; and of all things afraid of being too much in the right. But the works of malice and injuſtice are quite in another ſtyle. They are finiſhed with a bold maſterly hand; touched as they are with the ſpirit of thoſe vehement paſſions that call forth all our energies whenever we oppreſs and perſecute.—Speech at Briſtol, previous to the Election.

GOVERNMENT.

GOVERNMENT is deeply intereſted in every thing which, even through the medium of ſome temporary uneaſineſs, may tend finally to compoſe the minds of the ſubject, and to conciliate their affections. I have nothing to do here with the abſtract value of the voice of the people. But as long as reputation, the moſt precious poſſeſſion of every individual, and as long [105] as opinion, the great ſupport of the ſtate, depend entirely upon that voice, it can never be conſidered as a thing of little conſequence either to individuals or to government. Nations are not primarily ruled by laws; leſs by violence. Whatever original energy may be ſuppoſed either in force or regulation; the operation of both is, in truth, merely inſtrumental. Nations are governed by the ſame methods, and on the ſame principles, by which an individual without authority is often able to govern thoſe who are his equals or his ſuperiors; by a knowledge of their temper, and by a judicious management of it; I mean, when public affairs are ſteadily and quietly conducted; not when government is nothing but a continued ſcuffle between the magiſtrate and the multitude; in which ſometimes the one and ſometimes the other is uppermoſt; in which they alternately yield and prevail, in a ſeries of contemptible victories, and ſcandalous ſubmiſſions. The temper of the people amongſt whom he preſides ought therefore to be the firſt ſtudy of a ſtateſman.—

GOVERNMENT. Founded in Juſtice.

BUT let government in what form it may be, comprehend the whole in its juſtice, and reſtrain the ſuſpicions by its vigilance; let it keep watch and ward; let it diſcover by its ſagacity, and puniſh by its firmneſs, all delinquency againſt its power, when⯑ever delinquency exiſts in the overt acts, and then it will be as ſafe as ever God and nature intended it ſhould be.—Speech at Briſtol, previous to the Election.

GOVERNMENT.

ALL government, indeed every human benefit and enjoyment, every virtue, and every prudent act, is founded on compromiſe and barter. We balance [106] inconveniencies; we give and take; we remit ſome rights, that we may enjoy others; and, we chuſe rather to be happy citizens, than ſubtle diſputants. As we muſt give away ſome natural liberty, to enjoy civil advantages; ſo we muſt ſacrifice ſome civil liberties, for the advantages to be derived from the communion and fellowſhip of a great empire. But in all fair dealings, the thing bought, muſt bear ſome proportion to the purchaſe paid. None will barter away the immediate jewel of his ſoul. Though a great [...]ouſe is apt to make ſlaves haughty, yet it is purchaſing a part of the artificial importance of a great empire too dear, to pay for it all eſſential rights, and all the intrinſic dignity of human nature. None of us who would not riſque his life, rather than fall under a government purely arbitrary. But, al⯑though there are ſome amongſt us who think our conſtitution wants many improvements, to make it a complete ſyſtem of liberty, perhaps none who are of that opinion, would think it right to aim at ſuch im⯑provement, by diſturbing his country, and riſquing every thing that is dear to him. In every arduous enterprize, we conſider what we are to loſe, as well as what we are to gain; and the more and better ſtake of liberty every people poſſeſs, the leſs they will hazard in a vain attempt to make it more. Theſe are the cords of man. Man acts from adequate motives relative to his intereſt; and not on metaphyſical ſpe⯑culations. Ariſtotle, the great maſter of reaſoning, cautions us, and with great weight and propriety, againſt this ſpecies of deluſive geometrical accuracy in moral arguments, as the moſt fallacious of all ſophiſtry.—Speech on Conciliation with America.

GRIEVANCES. Neceſſity of removing the firſt Cauſe of them.

I AM quite clear, that if we do not go to the very origin and firſt ruling cauſe of grievances, we do [107] nothing. What does it ſignify to turn abuſes out of one door, if we are to let them in at another? What does it ſignify to promote oeconomy upon a meaſure, and to ſuffer it to be ſubverted in the principle?—

GRIEF, (NATURE OF.)

IT is the nature of grief to keep its object perpe⯑tually in its eye, to preſent it in its moſt pleaſurable views, to repeat all the circumſtances that attend it, even to the laſt minuteneſs; to go back to every particular enjoyment, to dwell upon each, and to find a thouſand new perfections in all, that were not ſufficiently underſtood before; in grief, the pleaſure is ſtill uppermoſt; and the affliction we ſuffer has no reſemblance to abſolute pain, which is always odious, and which we endeavour to ſhake off as ſoon as poſſible. The Odyſſey of Homer, which abounds with ſo many natural and affecting images, has none more ſtriking than thoſe which Menelaus raiſes of the calamitous fate of his friends, and his own manner of feeling it. He owns, indeed, that he often gives himſelf ſome intermiſſion from ſuch melancholy re⯑flections; but he obſerves, too, that melancholy as they are, they give him pleaſure.

HISTORY.

WE do not draw the moral leſſons we might from hiſtory. On the contrary, without care it may be [108] uſed to vitiate our minds and to deſtroy our happineſs. In hiſtory a great volume is unrolled for our in⯑ſtruction, drawing the materials of future wiſdom from the paſt errors and infirmities of mankind. It may, in the perverſion, ſerve for a magazine, fur⯑niſhing offenſive and defenſive weapons for parties in church and ſtate, and ſupplying the means of keeping alive, or reviving diſſentions and animoſities, and adding fuel to civil fury. Hiſtory conſiſts, for the greater part, of the miſeries brought upon the world by price, ambition, avarice, revenge, luſt, ſedition, hypocriſy, ungoverned zeal, and all the train of diſorderly appetites, which ſhake the public with the ſame

Theſe vices are the cauſes of thoſe ſtorms. Religion, morals, laws, prerogatives, privileges, liberties, rights of men, are the pretexts. The pretexts are always found in ſome ſpecious appearance of a real good. You would not ſecure men from tyranny and ſedition, by rooting out of the mind the principles to which theſe frau⯑dulent pretexts apply? If you did, you would root out every thing that is valuable in the human breaſt. As theſe are the pretexts, ſo the ordinary actors and inſtruments in great public evils are kings, prieſts, magiſtrates, ſenates, parliaments, national aſſemblies, judges, and captains. You would not cure the evil by reſolving, that there ſhould be no more monarchs, nor miniſters of ſtate, nor of the goſpel; no inter⯑preters of law; no general officers; no public coun⯑cils. You might change the names. The things in ſome ſhape muſt remain. A certain quantum of power muſt always exiſt in the community, in ſome hands, and under ſome appellation. Wiſe men will apply their remedies to vices, not to names; to the cauſes of evil which are permanent, not to the occa⯑ſional organs by which they act, and the tranſitory [109] modes in which they appear. Otherwiſe you will be wiſe hiſtorically, a fool in practice. Seldom have two ages the ſame faſhion in their pretexts and the ſame modes of miſchief. Wickedneſs is a little more inventive. Whilſt you are diſcuſſing faſhion, the faſhion is gone by. The very ſame vice aſſumes a new body. The ſpirit tranſmigrates; and, far from loſing its principle of life by the change of its ap⯑pearance, it is renovated in its new organs with the freſh vigour of a juvenile activity. It walks abroad; it continues its ravages; whilſt you are gibbeting the carcaſs, or demoliſhing the tomb. You are terrifying yourſelf with ghoſts and apparitions, whilſt your houſe is the haunt of robbers. It is thus with all thoſe, who, attending only to the ſhell and huſk of hiſtory, think they are waging war with intolerance, pride, and cruelty, whilſt, under colour of abhorring the ill principles of antiquated parties, they are au⯑thorizing and feeding the ſame odious vices in diffe⯑rent factions, and perhaps in worſe.

Your citizens of Paris formerly had lent themſelves as the ready inſtruments to ſlaughter the followers of Calvin, at the infamous maſſacre of St. Bartholomew. What ſhould we ſay to thoſe who could think of retaliating on the Pariſians of this day the abominations and horrors of that time? They are indeed brought to abhor that maſſacre. Ferocious as they are, it is not difficult to make them diſlike it; becauſe the poli⯑ticians and faſhionable teachers have no intereſt in giving their paſſions exactly the ſame direction. Still however they find it their intereſt to keep the ſame ſavage diſpoſitions alive. It was but the other day that they cauſed this very maſſacre to be acted on the ſtage for the diverſion of the deſcendants of thoſe who committed it. In this tragic farce they produced the cardinal of Lorraine in his robes of function, ordering general ſlaughter. Was this ſpectacle in⯑tended to make the Pariſians abhor perſecution, and loath the effuſion of blood?—No, it was to teach [110] them to perſecute their own paſtors; it was to excite them, by raiſing a diſguſt and horror of their clergy, to an alacrity in hunting down to deſtruction an order, which, if it ought to exiſt at all, ought to exiſt not only in ſafety, but in reverence: It was to ſtimulate their cannibal appetites (which one would think had been gorged ſufficiently) by variety and ſeaſoning; and to quicken them to an alertneſs in new murders and maſſacres, if it ſhould ſuit the purpoſe of the Guiſes of the day. An aſſembly, in which fat a multitude of prieſts and prelates, was obliged to ſuffer this indignity at its door. The author was not ſent to the gallies, nor the players to the houſe of correction. Not long after this exhi⯑bition, thoſe players came forward to the aſſembly to claim the rites of that very religion which they had dared to expoſe, and to ſhew their proſtituted faces in the ſenate, whilſt the archbiſhop of Paris, whoſe function was known to his people only by his prayers and benedictions, and his wealth only by his alms, is forced to abandon his houſe, and to fly from his flock (as from ravenous wolves) becauſe, truly, in the ſixteenth century, the cardinal of Lorraine was a rebel and a murderer.

Such is the effect of the perverſion of hiſtory, by thoſe, who, for the ſame nefarious purpoſes, have perverted every other part of learning. But thoſe who will ſtand upon that elevation of reaſon, which places centuries under our eye, and brings things to the true point of compariſon, which obſcures little names, and effaces the colours of little parties, and to which nothing can aſcend but the ſpirit and moral quality of human actions, will ſay to the teachers of the Palais Royal,—the cardinal of Lor⯑raine was the murderer of the ſixteenth century, you have the glory of being the murderers in the eighteenth; and this is the only difference between you. But hiſtory, in the nineteenth century, better underſtood, and better employed, will, I truſt, teach a civilized [111] poſterity to abhor the miſdeeds of both theſe barba⯑rous ages.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

HUMILITY.

HUMANITY cannot be degraded by humiliation. It is it's very character to ſubmit to ſuch things. There is a conſangunity between benevolence and humility. They are virtues of the ſame ſtock.—Regicide Peace.

HOUSEHOLD TROOPS, (MEETING OF.)

THE houſehold troops form an army, who will be ready to mutiny for want of pay, and whoſe mutiny will be really dreadful to a commander in chief. A rebellion of the thirteen lords of the bedchamber would be far more terrible to a miniſter, and would probably affect his power more to the quick, than a revolt of thirteen colonies. What an uproar ſuch an event would create at court! What petitions, and committees, and aſſociations, would it not produce! Bleſs me! what a clattering of white ſticks and yellow ſticks would be about his head—what a ſtorm of gold keys would fly about the ears of the miniſter—what a ſhower of Georges, and Thiſtles, and medals, and collars of S. S. would aſſail him at his firſt en⯑trance into the anti-chamber, after an inſolvent Chriſtmas quarter. A tumult which could not be appeaſed by all the harmony of the New Year's Ode. Rebellion it is certain there would be; and rebellion may not now indeed be ſo critical an event to thoſe who engage in it, ſince its price is ſo correctly aſcer⯑tained at juſt a thouſand pound.—Oecon. Reform.

IMAGINATION DESCRIBED.

BESIDES the ideas, with their annexed pains and pleaſures, which are preſented by the ſenſe; the [112] mind of man poſſeſſes a ſort of creative power of its own; either in repreſenting at pleaſure the images of things in the order and manner in which they were received by the ſenſes, or in combining thoſe images in a new manner, and according to a different order. This power is called imagination; and to this belongs whatever is called wit, fancy, invention, and the like. But it muſt be obſerved, that the power of the imagination is incapable of producing any thing abſo⯑lutely new; it can only vary the diſpoſition of thoſe ideas which it has received from the ſenſes. Now the imagination is the moſt extenſive province of pleaſure and pain, as it is the region of our fears and our hopes, and of all our paſſions that are connected with them; and whatever is calculated to affect the imagination with theſe commanding ideas, by force of any original natural impreſſion, muſt have the ſame power pretty equally over all men. For ſince the imagination is only the repreſentation of the ſenſes, it can only be pleaſed or diſpleaſed with the images, from the ſame principle on which the ſenſe is pleaſed or diſpleaſed with the realities; and conſe⯑quently there muſt be juſt as cloſe an agreement in the imaginations as in the ſenſes of men. A little attention will convince us that this muſt of neceſſity be the caſe.

But in the imagination, beſides the pain or pleaſure ariſing from the properties of the natural object, a pleaſure is perceived from the reſemblance, which the imitation has to the original. The imagination, I conceive, can have no pleaſure but what revolts from one or the other of theſe cauſes; and theſe cauſes operate pretty uniformly upon all men, becauſe they operate by principles of nature, and are not derived from any particular habits or advantages.—Sublime and Beautiful.

INDIA COMPANY. Conduct to the Polygars, or native Princes of the Car⯑natic. (See CARNATIC.)

IT is only to complete the view I propoſed of the conduct of the company, with regard to the depen⯑dent provinces, that I ſhall ſay any thing at all of the Carnatic, which is the ſcene, if poſſible, of greater diſorder than the northern provinces. Perhaps it were better to ſay of this center and metropolis of abuſe, whence all the reſt in India and in England diverge; from whence they are ſed and methodized, what was ſaid of Carthage—de Carthagine ſatius eſt ſilere quam parum dicere. This country, in all its denominations, is about 46,000 ſquare miles. It may be affirmed univerſally, that not one perſon of ſubſtance or property, landed, commercial, or mo⯑nied, excepting two or three bankers, who are neceſ⯑ſary depoſits and diſtributors of the general ſpoil, is left in all that region. In that country the moiſture, the bounty of Heaven, is given but at a certain ſeaſon. Before the aera of our influence, the induſtry of man carefully huſbanded that gift of God. The Gentûs preſerved, with a provident and religious care, the precious depoſit of the periodical rain in reſervoirs, many of them works of royal grandeur; and from theſe, as occaſion demanded, they fructified the whole country. To maintain theſe reſervoirs, and to keep up an annual advance to the cultivators, for ſeed and cattle, formed a principal object of the piety and policy of the prieſts and rulers of the Gentû religion.

This object required a command of money; and there was no pollam, or caſtle, which in the happy days of the Carnatic was without ſome hoard of trea⯑ſure, by which the governors were enabled to combat with the irregularity of the ſeaſons, and to reſiſt or to buy off the invaſion of an enemy. In all the cities were multitudes of merchants and bankers, for all occaſions of monied aſſiſtance; and on the other hand, the native princes were in condition to obtain [114] credit from them. The manufacturer was paid by the return of commodities, or by imported money, and not, as at preſent, in the taxes that had been originally exacted from his induſtry. In aid of caſual diſtreſs, the country was full of choultries, which were inns and hoſpitals, where the traveller and the poor were relieved. All ranks of people had their place in the public concern, and their ſhare in the common ſtock and common proſperity; but the chartered rights of men, and the right which it was thought proper to ſet up in the Nabob of Arcot, introduced a new ſyſtem. It was their policy to conſider hoards of money as crimes; to regard mo⯑derate rents as frauds on the ſovereign; and to view, in the leſſer princes, any claim of exemption from more than ſettled tribute, as an act of rebellion. Accordingly all the caſtles were, one after the other, plundered and deſtroyed. The native princes were expelled; the hoſpitals fell to ruin; the reſervoirs of water went to decay; the merchants, bankers, and manufacturers diſappeared; and ſterility, indigence, and depopulation, overſpread the face of theſe once flouriſhing provinces.

The company was very early ſenſible of theſe miſchiefs, and of their true cauſe. They gave preciſe orders, ‘"that the native princes, called polygars, ſhould not be extirpated.—That the rebellion [ſo they chooſe to call it] of the polygars, may (they fear) with too much juſtice, be attributed to the mal⯑adminiſtration of the Nabob's collectors." That "they obſerve with concern, that their troops have been put to diſagreeable ſervices."’ They might have uſed a ſtronger expreſſion without impropriety. But they make amends in another place. Speaking of the polygars, the directors ſay, that ‘"it was re⯑pugnant to humanity to force them to ſuch dreadful extremeties as they underwent."’ That ſome examples of ſeverity might be neceſſary, ‘"when they fell into the Nabob's hands,"’ and not by the deſtruction of the [115] country. ‘"That they fear his government is none of the mildeſt; and that there is great oppreſſion in collecting his revenues."’ They ſtate, that the wars in which he has involved the Carnatic, had been a cauſe of its diſtreſſes. ‘"That theſe diſtreſſes have been certainly great; but thoſe by the Nabob's op⯑preſſions we believe to be greater than all."’ Pray, Sir, attend to the reaſon for their opinion that the government of this their inſtrument is more calamitous to the country than the ravages of war.—Becauſe, ſay they, his oppreſſions are ‘"without intermiſſion.—The others are temporary; by all which oppreſſions we believe the Nabob has great wealth in ſtore."’ From this ſtore neither he nor they could derive any advantage whatſoever, upon the invaſion of Hyder Ali in the hour of their greateſt calamity and diſmay.

It is now proper to compare theſe declarations with the company's conduct. The principal reaſon which they aſſigned againſt the extirpation of the polygars was, that the weavers were protected in their for⯑treſſes. They might have added, that the company itſelf, which ſlung them to death, had been warmed in the boſom of theſe unfortunate princes: for, on the taking of Madras by the French, it was in their hoſpitable pollams, that moſt of the inhabitants found refuge and protection. But, notwithſtanding all theſe orders, reaſons, and declarations, they at length gave an indirect ſanction, and permitted the uſe of a very direct and irreſiſtible force, to meaſures which they had, over and over again, declared to be falſe policy, cruel, inhuman, and oppreſſive. Hav⯑ing, however, forgot all attention to the princes and the people, they remembered that they had ſome ſort of intereſt in the trade of the country; and it is matter of curioſity to obſerve the protection which they afforded to this their natural object.

Full of anxious cares on this head, they direct, ‘"that in reducing the polygars they (their ſervants) were to be cautious, not to deprive the weavers and [116] manufacturers of the protection they often met with in the ſtrong holds of the polygar countries;"’—and they write to their inſtrument, the Nabob of Arcot, concerning theſe poor people in a moſt pathetic ſtrain. ‘"We entreat your excellency (ſay they) in particular, to make the manufacturers the object of your tendereſt care; particularly when you root out the polygars, you do not deprive the weavers of the protection they enjoyed under them."’ When they root out the protectors in favour of the oppreſſor, they ſhew themſelves religiouſly cautious of the rights of the protected. When they extirpate the ſhepherd and the ſhepherd's dogs, they piouſly re⯑commend the helpleſs flock to the mercy, and even to the tendereſt care, of the wolf.—Speech on Mr. Fox's Eaſt India Bill.

INDIA PROVINCES (STATE OF). Bengal.

BENGAL, and the provinces that are united to it, are larger than the kingdom of France; and once contained, as France does contain, a great and inde⯑pendent landed intereſt, compoſed of princes, of great lords, of a numerous nobility and gentry, of freeholders, of lower tenants, of religious commu⯑nities, and public foundations. So early as 1769, the company's ſervants perceived the decay into which theſe provinces had fallen under Engliſh admi⯑niſtration, and they made a ſtrong repreſentation upon this decay, and what they apprehended to be the cauſes of it. Soon after this repreſentation, Mr. Haſtings became preſident of Bengal. Inſtead of adminiſtering a remedy to this melancholy diſorder, upon the heels of a dreadful famine, in the year 1772, the ſuccour which the new preſident and the council lent to this afflicted nation was—ſhall I be believed in relating it?—the landed intereſt of a whole kingdom, of a kingdom to be compared to France, was ſet up to public auction! They ſet up [117] (Mr. Haſtings ſet up) the whole nobility, gentry, and freeholders, to the higheſt bidder. No preference was given to the ancient proprietors. They muſt bid againſt every uſurer, every temporary adventurer, every jobber and ſchemer, every ſervant of every European, or they were obliged to content them⯑ſelves, in lieu of their extenſive domains, with their houſe, and ſuch a penſion as the ſtate-auctioneers thought fit to aſſign. In this general calamity, ſeveral of the firſt nobility thought (and in all appearance juſtly) that they had better ſubmit to the neceſſity of this penſion, than continue, under the name of ze⯑mindars, the objects and inſtruments of a ſyſtem, by which they ruined their tenants, and were ruined themſelves. Another reform has ſince come upon the back of the firſt; and a penſion having been aſſigned to theſe unhappy perſons, in lieu of their hereditary lands, a new ſcheme of oeconomy has taken place, and deprived them of that penſion.

The menial ſervants of Engliſhmen, perſons (to uſe the emphatical phraſe of a ruined and patient eaſtern chief) ‘"whoſe fathers they would not have ſet with the dogs of their flock,"’ entered into their patri⯑monial lands. Mr. Haſtings's banian was, after this auction, ſound poſſeſſed of territories yielding a rent of one hundred and forty thouſand pounds a year.

Such an univerſal proſcription, upon any pretence, has few examples. Such a proſcription, without even a pretence of delinquency, has none. It ſtands by itſelf. It ſtands as a monument to aſtoniſh the imagi⯑nation, to confound the reaſon of mankind. I con⯑feſs to you, when I firſt came to know this buſineſs in its true nature and extent, my ſurpriſe did a little ſuſpend my indignation. I was in a manner ſtupi⯑fied by the deſperate boldneſs of a few obſcure young men, who having obtained, by ways which they could not comprehend, a power of which they ſaw neither the purpoſes nor the limits, toſſed about, ſubverted, and tore to pieces, as if it were in the [118] gambols of a boyiſh unluckineſs and malice, the moſt eſtabliſhed rights, and the moſt ancient and moſt re⯑vered inſtitutions, of ages and nations. Sir, I will not now trouble you with any detail with regard to what they have ſince done with theſe ſame lands and land-holders; only to inform you, that nothing has been ſuffered to ſettle for two ſeaſons together upon any baſis; and that the levity and inconſtancy of theſe mock legiſlators were not the leaſt afflicting parts of the oppreſſions ſuffered under their uſurpation; nor will any thing give ſtability to the property of the natives, but an adminiſtration in England at once protecting and ſtable. The country ſuſtains, almoſt every year, the miſeries of a revolution. At preſent, all is uncertainty, miſery, and confuſion. There is to be found through theſe vaſt regions no longer one landed man, who is a reſource for voluntary aid, or an object for particular rapine. Some of them were, not long ſince, great princes; they poſſeſſed treaſures, they levied armies. There was a zemindar in Bengal (I forget his name) that, on the threat of an invaſion, ſupplied the ſoubah of theſe provinces with the loan of a million ſterling. The family this day wants credit for a breakfaſt at the bazar.—Ibid.

MADRAS.

MADRAS, with its dependencies, is the ſecond (but with a long interval, the ſecond) member of the Britiſh empire in the eaſt. The trade of that city, and of the adjacent territory, was, not very long ago, among the moſt flouriſhing in Aſia. But ſince the eſtabliſhment of the Britiſh power, it has waſted away under an uniform gradual decline; inſomuch that in the year 1779 not one merchant of eminence was to be found in the whole country^*. During this period of decay, about ſix hundred thouſand ſterling pounds [119] a year have been drawn off by Engliſh gentlemen on their private account, by the way of China alone^†. If we add four hundred thouſand, as probably re⯑mitted through other channels, and in other mediums, that is, in jewels, gold, and ſilver directly brought to Europe, and in bills upon the Britiſh and foreign companies, you will ſcarcely think the matter over⯑rated. If we fix the commencement of this extrac⯑tion of money from the Carnatic at a period no ear⯑lier than the year 1760, and cloſe it in the year 1780, it probably will not amount to a great deal leſs than twenty millions of money.

During the deep ſilent flow of this ſteady ſtream of wealth, which ſet from India into Europe, it gene⯑rally paſſed on with no adequate obſervation; but happening at ſome periods to meet rifts of rocks that checked its courſe, it grew more noiſy, and attracted more notice. The pecuniary diſcuſſions cauſed by an accumulation of part of the fortunes of their ſer⯑vants in a debt from the Nabob of Arcot, was the firſt thing which very particularly called for, and long engaged, the attention of the court of directors. This debt amounted to eight hundred and eighty thouſand pounds ſterling, and was claimed, for the greater part, by Engliſh gentlemen, reſiding at Ma⯑dras. This grand capital, ſettled at length by order, at ten per cent. afforded an annuity of eighty-eight thouſand pounds^*.

Whilſt the directors were digeſting their aſtoniſh⯑ment at this information, a memorial was preſented to them from three gentlemen, informing them that their friends had lent likewiſe, to merchants of Canton in China, a ſum of not more than one million ſterling. In this memorial they called upon the company for their aſſiſtance and interpoſition with the Chineſe go⯑vernment for the recovery of the debt. This ſum [120] lent to Chineſe merchants, was at 24 per cent. which would yield, if paid, an annuity of two hundred and forty thouſand pounds^*.

Perplexed as the directors were with theſe demands, you may conceive, Sir, that they did not find them⯑ſelves very much diſembarraſſed, by being made ac⯑quainted that they muſt again exert their influence for a new reſerve of the happy parſimony of their ſervants, collected into a ſecond debt from the Nabob of Arcot, amounting to two millions four hundred thouſand pounds, ſettled at an intereſt of 12 per cent. This is known by the name of the Conſolidation of 1777, as the former of the nabob's debts was by the title of the Conſolidation of 1767. To this was added, in a ſeparate parcel, a little reſerve called the Cavalry debt, of one hundred and ſixty thouſand pounds, at the ſame intereſt. The whole of theſe four capitals, amounting to four millions four hun⯑dred and forty thouſand pounds, produced at their ſeveral rates, annuities amounting to ſix hundred and and twenty-three thouſand pounds a year; a good deal more than one third of the clear land-tax of England, at four ſhillings in the pound; a good deal more than double the whole annual dividend of the Eaſt India company, the nominal maſters to the pro⯑prietors in theſe funds. Of this intereſt, three hun⯑dred and eighty-three thouſand two hundred pounds a year ſtood chargeable on the public revenues of the Carnatic.—Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts.

INDIA DEBT AND PECULATORS.

SIR, at this moment, it will not be neceſſary to conſider the various operations which the capital and intereſt of this debt have ſucceſſively undergone. I ſhall ſpeak to theſe operations when I come particu⯑larly to anſwer the right honourable gentleman (Mr. [121] Dundas) on each of the heads, as he has thought proper to divide them. But this was the exact view in which theſe debts firſt appeared to the court of directors, and to the world. It varied afterwards. But it never appeared in any other than a moſt queſ⯑tionable ſhape. When this gigantic phantom of debt firſt appeared before a young miniſter, (Mr. Pitt) it naturally would have juſtified ſome degree of doubt and apprehenſion. Such a prodigy would have filled any common man with ſuperſtitious fears. He would exorciſe that ſhapeleſs, nameleſs form, and by every thing ſacred would have adjured it to tell by what means a ſmall number of ſlight individuals, of no conſequence or ſituation, poſſeſſed of no lucrative offices, without the command of armies, or the known adminiſtration of revenues, without profeſſion of any kind, without any ſort of trade ſufficient to employ a pedlar, could have, in a few years (as to ſome even in a few months) have amaſſed treaſures equal to the revenues of a reſpectable kingdom? Was it not enough to put theſe gentlemen, in the no⯑viciate of their adminiſtration, on their guard, and to call upon them for a ſtrict enquiry (if not to juſtify them in a reprobation of thoſe demands without any enquiry at all) that when all England, Scotland, and Ireland, had for years been witneſs to the immenſe ſums laid out by the ſervants of the company in ſtocks of all denominations, in the purchaſe of lands, in the buying and building of houſes, in the ſecuring quiet ſeats in parliament, or in the tumultuous riot of conteſted elections, in wandering throughout the whole range of thoſe variegated modes of inventive prodigality; which ſometimes have excited our won⯑der, ſometimes rouſed our indignation; that after all India was four millions ſtill in debt to them? India in debt to them! For what? Every debt for which an equivalent of ſome kind or other is not given, is on the face of it a fraud. What is the equivalent they have given? What equivalent had they to give? [122] What are the articles of commerce, or the branches of manufacture which thoſe gentlemen have carried hence to enrich India? What are the ſciences they b [...]ed out to enlighten it? What are the arts they introduced to chear and to adorn it? What are the religious, what the moral inſtitutions they have taught among that people as a guide to life, or as a conſola⯑tion when life is to be no more, that there is an eternal debt, a debt ‘"ſtill paying, ſtill to owe,"’ which muſt be bound on the preſent generation in India, and entailed on their mortgaged poſterity for ever? A debt of millions, in favour of a ſet of men, whoſe names, with few exceptions, are either buried in the obſcurity of their origin and talents, or dragged into light by the enormity of their crimes?

In my opinion the courage of the miniſter was the moſt wonderful part of the tranſaction, eſpecially as he muſt have read, or rather the right honourable gentleman ſays, he has read for him, whole volumes upon the ſubject. The volumes, by the way, are not by one tenth part ſo numerous as the right ho⯑nourable gentleman has thought proper to pretend, in order to frighten you from enquiry; but in theſe vo⯑lumes, ſuch as they are, the miniſter muſt have found a full authority for a ſuſpicion (at the very leaſt) of every thing relative to the great fortunes made at Madras. What is that authority? Why no other than the ſtanding authority for all the claims which the miniſtry has thought fit to provide for—the grand debtor—the nabob of Arcot himſelf. Hear that prince, in the letter written to the court of directors, at the preciſe period, whilſt the main body of theſe debts were contracting. In this letter he ſtates him⯑ſelf to be, what undoubtedly he is, a moſt compe⯑tent witneſs to this point. After ſpeaking of the war with Hyder Ali in 1768 and 1769, and of other meaſures which he cenſures (whether right or wrong it ſignifies nothing) and into which he ſays he had been led by the company's ſervants; he proceeds in this [123] manner— ‘"If all theſe things were againſt the real intereſts of the company, they are ten thouſand times more againſt mine, and againſt the proſperity of my country, and the happineſs of my people; for your intereſts and mine are the ſame. What were they owing to then? to the private views of a few individuals, who have enriched themſelves at the expence of your influence, and of my country; for your ſervants HAVE NO TRADE IN THIS COUNTRY; neither do you pay them high wages; yet in a few years they return to England, with many lacks of pogodas. How can you or I account for ſuch immenſe fortunes, acquired in ſo ſhort a time, without any viſible means of getting them?"’

When he aſked this queſtion, which involves its anſwer, it is extraordinary that curioſity did not prompt the chancellor of the exchequer to that en⯑quiry which might come in vain recommended to him by his own act of parliament. Does not the nabob of Arcot tell us in ſo many words, that there was no fair way of making the enormous ſums ſent by the company's ſervants to England? And do you imagine that there was or could be more honeſty and good faith in the demands, for what remained behind in India? Of what nature were the tranſactions with himſelf? If you follow the train of his information you muſt ſee, that if theſe great ſums were at all lent, it was not property, but ſpoil that was lent; if not lent, the tranſaction was not a contract, but a fraud. Either way, if light enough could not be furniſhed to au⯑thoriſe a full condemnation of theſe demands, they ought to have been left to the parties who beſt knew and underſtood each others proceedings. It was not neceſſary that the authority of government ſhould interpoſe in favour of claims, whoſe very foundation was a defiance of that authority, and whoſe object and end was its entire ſubverſion.

It may be ſaid that this letter was written by the nabob of Arcot in a moody humour, under the in⯑fluence [124] of ſome chagrin. Certainly it was; but it is in ſuch humours that truth comes out. And when he tells you from his own knowledge, what every one muſt preſume, from the extreme probability of the thing, whether he told it or not, one ſuch teſtimony is worth a thouſand that contradict that probability, when the parties have a better underſtanding with each other, and when they have a point to carry, that may unite them in a common deceit.

If this body of private claims of debt, real or deviſed, were a queſtion, as it is falſely pretended, between the nabob of Arcot as debtor, and Paul Benfield and his aſſociates as creditors, I am ſure I ſhould give myſelf but little trouble about it. If the hoards of oppreſſion were the fund for ſatisfying the claims of bribery and peculation, who would wiſh to interfere between ſuch litigants? If the demands were confined to what might be drawn from the treaſures which the company's records uniformly aſſert that the nabob is in poſſeſſion of; or if he had mines of gold or ſilver, or diamonds (as we know that he has none) theſe gentlemen might break open his hoards, or dig in his mines, without any diſturbance from me. But the gentlemen on the other ſide of the houſe know as well as I do, and they dare not contradict me, that the nabob of Arcot and his creditors are not adver⯑ſaries, but colluſive parties, and that the whole tranſ⯑action is under a falſe colour, and falſe names. The litigation is not, nor ever has been, between their rapacity and his hoarded riches. No; it is between him and them combining and confederating on one ſide, and the public revenues, and the miſerable inhabitants of a ruined country, on the other. Theſe are the r [...]l plaintiffs and the real defendants in the ſuit. Refuſing a ſhilling from his hoards for the ſatiſ⯑faction of any demand, the nabob of Arcot is always ready, nay, he earneſtly, and with eagerneſs and paſſion, contends for delivering up to theſe pretended creditors his territory and his ſubjects. It is therefore [125] not from treaſuries and mines, but from the food of your unpaid armies, from the blood withheld from the veins, and whipt out of the backs of the moſt miſerable of men, that we are to pamper extor⯑tion, uſury, and peculation, under the falſe names of debtors and creditors of ſtate.—Ibid.

INDIA COMPANY (POLICY OF.)

THE invariable courſe of the company's policy is this: Either they ſet up ſome prince too odious to maintain himſelf without the neceſſity of their aſſiſt⯑ance, or they ſoon render him odious, by making him the inſtrument of their government. In that caſe troops are bountifully ſent to him to maintain his authority. That he ſhould have no want of aſſiſt⯑ance, a civil gentleman, called a reſident, is kept at his court, who, under pretence of providing duly for the pay of theſe troops, gets aſſignments on the revenue into his hands. Under his provident ma⯑nagement, debts ſoon accumulate; new aſſignments are made for theſe debts; until, ſtep by ſtep, the whole revenue, and with it the whole power of the country, is delivered into his hands. The military do not behold without a virtuous emulation the mo⯑derate gains of the civil department. They feel that, in a country driven to habitual rebellion by the civil government, the military is neceſſary; and they will not permit their ſervices to go unrewarded. Tracts of country are delivered over to their diſcretion. Then it is found proper to convert their commanding officers into farmers of revenue. Thus, between the well paid civil, and well rewarded military eſtabliſh⯑ment, the ſituation of the natives may be eaſily con⯑jectured. The authority of the regular and lawful government is every where and in every point ex⯑tinguiſhed. Diſorders and violences ariſe; they are repreſſed by other diſorders and other violences. Wherever the collectors of the revenue, and the [126] farming colonels and majors move, ruin is about them, rebellion before and behind them. The peo⯑ple in crowds fly out of the country; and the frontier is guarded by lines of troops, not to exclude an enemy, but to prevent the eſcape of the inhabitants.—Speech on Mr. Fox's Eaſt India Bill.

INDIA. Fate of the Natives of India.

WORSE, far worſe, has been the fate of the poor creatures, the natives of India, whom the hypocriſy of the company has betrayed into complaint of op⯑preſſion, and diſcovery of peculation. The firſt woman in Bengal, the ranni of Rajeſhahi, the ranni of Burdwan, the ranni of Amboa, by their weak and thoughtleſs truſt in the company's honour and protection, are utterly ruined: the firſt of theſe wo⯑men, a perſon of princely rank, and once of cor⯑reſpondent fortune, who paid above two hundred thouſand a year quit-rent to the ſtate, is, according to very credible information, ſo completely beggared as to ſtand in need of the relief of alms. Mahomed Reza Khân, the ſecond Muſſulman in Bengal, for having been diſtinguiſhed by the ill-omened honour of the countenance and protection of the court of directors, was, without the pretence of any enquiry whatſoever into his conduct, ſtripped of all his em⯑ployments, and reduced to the loweſt condition. His ancient rival for power, the rajah Nundcomar was, by an inſult on every thing which India holds reſpectable and ſacred, hanged in the face of all his nation, by the judges you ſent to protect that peo⯑ple; hanged for a pretended crime, upon an ex poſt facto Britiſh act of parliament, in the midſt of his evidence againſt Mr. Haſtings. The accuſer they ſaw hanged. The culprit, without acquittal or en⯑quiry, triumphs on the ground of that murder: a [127] murder not of Nundcomar only, but of all living teſtimony, and even of evidence yet unborn. From that time not a complaint has been heard from the natives againſt their governors. All the grievances of India have found a complete remedy.—

INDIA. Britiſh Dominions in India deſcribed.

IN the northern parts it is a ſolid maſs of land, about eight hundred miles in length, and four or five hundred broad. As you go ſouthward, it becomes narrower for a ſpace. It afterwards dilates; but narrower or broader, you poſſeſs the whole eaſtern and north-eaſtern coaſt of that vaſt country, quite from the borders of Pegu.—Bengal, Bahar, and Oriſſa, with Benares (now unfortunately in our im⯑mediate poſſeſſion) meaſure 161,978 ſquare Engliſh miles; a territory conſiderably larger than the whole kingdom of France. Oude, with its dependant pro⯑vinces, is 53,286 ſquare miles, not a great deal leſs than England. The Carnatic, with Tanjour and the Circars, is 65,948 ſquare miles, very conſiderably larger than England; and the whole of the company's dominions, comprehending Bombay and Salſette, amounts to 281,412 ſquare miles; which forms a territory larger than any European dominion, Ruſſia and Turkey excepted. Through all that vaſt extent of country there is not a man who eats a mouthful of rice but by permiſſion of the Eaſt India company.—So far with regard to the extent. The population of this great empire is not eaſy to be calculated. When the countries, of which it is compoſed, came into our poſſeſſion, they were all eminently peopled, and eminently productive; though at that time con⯑ſiderably declined from their antient proſperity. But ſince they are come into our hands!—! How⯑ever, if we take the period of our eſtimate immedi⯑ately [128] before the utter deſolation of the Carnatic, and if we allow for the havoc which our government had even then made in theſe regions, we cannot, in my opinion, rate the population at much leſs than thirty millions of ſouls; more than four times the number of perſons in the iſland of Great Britain.

My next enquiry to that of the number, is the quality and deſcription of the inhabitants. This mul⯑titude of men does not conſiſt of an abject and bar⯑barous populace; much leſs of gangs of ſavages, like the Guaranies and Chiquitos, who wander on the waſte borders of the river of Amazons, or the Plate; but a people for ages civilized and cultivated; culti⯑vated by all the arts of poliſhed life, whilſt we were yet in the woods. There, have been (and ſtill the ſkeletons remain) princes once of great dignity, au⯑thority, and opulence. There, are to be found the chiefs of tribes and nations. There, is to be found an antient and venerable prieſthood, the depoſitory of their laws, learning, and hiſtory, the guides of the people whilſt living, and their conſolation in death; a nobility of great antiquity and renown; a multitude of cities, not exceeded in population and trade by thoſe of the firſt claſs in Europe; merchants and bankers, individual houſes of whom have once vied in capital with the Bank of England; whoſe credit had often ſupported a tottering ſtate, and pre⯑ſerved their governments in the midſt of war and de⯑ſolation; millions of ingenious manufacturers and mechanics; millions of the moſt diligent, and not the leaſt intelligent, tillers of the earth. Here are to be found almoſt all the religions profeſſed by men, the Bramincal, the Muſſulmen, the Eaſtern and the Weſtern Chriſtians.

If I were to take the whole aggregate of our poſ⯑ſeſſions there, I ſhould compare it, as the neareſt parallel I can find, with the empire of Germany. Our immediate poſſeſſions I ſhould compare with the [129] Auſtrian dominions, and they would not ſuffer in the compariſon. The nabob of Oude might ſtand for the king of Pruſſia; the nabob of Arcot I would compare, as ſuperior in territory, and equal in re⯑venue, to the elector of Saxony. Cheyt Sing, the rajah of Benares, might well rank with the prince of Heſſe, at leaſt; and the rajah of Tanjore (though hardly equal in extent of dominion, ſuperior in re⯑venue) to the elector of Bavaria. The Polygars and the northern Zemindars, and other great chiefs, might well claſs with the reſt of the princes, dukes, counts, marquiſſes, and biſhops in the empire; all of whom I mention to honour, and ſurely without diſ⯑paragement to any or all of thoſe moſt reſpectable princes and grandees.

All this vaſt maſs, compoſed of ſo many orders and claſſes of men, is again infinitely diverſified by manners, by religion, by hereditary employment, through all their poſſible combinations. This ren⯑ders the handling of India a matter in an high degree critical and delicate. But oh! it has been handled rudely indeed. Even ſome of the reformers ſeem to have forgot that they had any thing to do but to re⯑gulate the tenants of a manor, or the ſhopkeepers of the next county town.

It is an empire of this extent, of this complicated nature, of this dignity and importance, that I have compared to Germany, and the German government; not for an exact reſemblance, but as a ſort of a middle term, by which India might be approximated to our underſtandings, and if poſſible to our feelings; in order to awaken ſomething of ſympathy for the unfortunate natives, of which I am afraid we are not perfectly ſuſceptible, whilſt we look at this very remote object through a falſe and cloudy medium.—Ibid.

INDIA DIRECTORS.

A Director's qualification may be worth about two thouſand five hundred pounds—and the intereſt, at eight per cent. is about one hundred and ſixty pounds a year. Of what value is that, whether it riſe to ten, or fall to ſix, or to nothing, to him whoſe ſon, before he is in Bengal two months, and before he deſcends the ſteps of the council chamber, ſells the grant of a ſingle contract for forty thouſand pounds? Accord⯑ingly the ſtock is bought up in qualifications. The vote is not to protect the ſtock, but the ſtock is bought to acquire the vote; and the end of the vote is to cover and ſupport, againſt juſtice, ſome man of power who has made an obnoxious fortune in India; or to maintain in power thoſe who are actually em⯑ploying it in the acquiſition of ſuch a fortune; and to avail themſelves in return of his patronage, that he may ſhower the ſpoils of the eaſt, ‘"barbaric pearl and gold,"’ on them, their families, and dependents. So that all the relations of the Company are not only changed, but inverted. The ſervants in India are not appointed by the Directors, but the Directors are choſen by them. The trade is carried on with their capitals; to them the revenues of the country are mortgaged. The ſeat of the ſupreme power is in Calcutta. The houſe in Leadenhall-ſtreet is nothing more than a 'change for their agents, factors, and deputies to meet in, to take care of their affairs, and ſupport their intereſts; and this ſo avowedly, that we ſee the known agents of the delinquent ſervants marſhalling and diſciplining their forces, and the prime ſpokeſmen in all their aſſemblies.—Ibid.

JACOBINISM.

JACOBINISM is the revolt of the enterpriſing talents of a country againſt its property. When private men form themſelves into aſſociations for the purpoſe of [131] deſtroying the pre-exiſting laws and inſtitutions of their country; when they ſecure to themſelves an army, by dividing amongſt the people of no property the eſtates of the ancient and lawful proprietors; when a ſtate recognizes thoſe acts; when it does not make confiſcations for crimes, but makes crimes for confiſcations; when it has its principal ſtrength, and all its reſources in ſuch a violation of property; when it ſtands chiefly upon ſuch a violation; maſſacreing by judgments, or otherwiſe, thoſe who make any ſtruggle for their old legal government, and their legal, here⯑ditary, or acquired poſſeſſions, I call this Jacobiniſm by eſtabliſhment.— Regicide Peace.

JACOBINS.

I HAVE a good opinion of the general abilities of the Jacobins; not that I ſuppoſe them better born than others; but ſtrong paſſions awake the faculties: they ſuffer not a particle to be loſt; the ſpirit of en⯑terprize gives them the full uſe of all their native energies.—Ibid.

JACOBINS. Character of the Britiſh Jacobins.

IT cannot be concealed. We are a divided people. But in diviſions, where a part is to be taken, we are to make a muſter of our ſtrength. I have often en⯑deavoured to claſs thoſe who, in any political view, are to be called the people. Without doing ſome⯑thing of this ſort we muſt proceed abſurdly. We ſhould preſume as abſurdly, if we pretended to very great accuracy in our eſtimate. But I think, in the calculation I have made, the error cannot be very material. In England and Scotland, I compute that thoſe of adult age, not declining in life, of tolerable leiſure for ſuch diſcuſſions, and of ſome means of information, more or leſs, and who are above menial dependence, (or what virtually is ſuch) may amount [132] to about four hundred thouſand. In this number I include the women that take a concern in thoſe tranſactions, who cannot exceed twenty thouſand. There is ſuch a thing as a natural repreſentative of the people. This body is that repreſentative; and on this body, more than on the legal conſtituent, the artificial repreſentative depends. This is the Britiſh public, and it is a public very numerous. The reſt, when feeble, are the objects of protection; when ſtrong, the means of force. They who affect to con⯑ſider that part of us in any other light, inſult while they cajole us; they do not want us for counſellors in deliberation, but to liſt us as ſoldiers for battle.

Of theſe four hundred thouſand political citizens, I look upon one fifth, or about eighty thouſand, to be pure Jacobins, utterly incapable of amendment; objects of eternal vigilance; and when they break out, of legal conſtraint. On theſe, no reaſon, no argument, no example, no venerable authority, can have the ſlighteſt influence. They deſire a change, and they will have it if they can. If they cannot have it by Engliſh cabal, they will make no ſort of ſcruple of having it by the cabal of France, into which already they are virtually incorporated.

This minority is great and formidable. I do not know whether if I aimed at the total overthrow of a kingdom, I ſhould wiſh to be encumbered with a larger body of partizans. Theſe, by their ſpirit of intrigue, and by their reſtleſs agitating activity, are of a force far ſuperior to their numbers; and if times grew the leaſt critical, have the means of de⯑bauching or intimidating many of thoſe who are now ſound, as well as of adding to their force large bodies of the more paſſive part of the nation. This mino⯑rity is numerous enough to make a mighty cry for peace, or for war, or for any object they are led ve⯑hemently to deſire. By paſſing from place to place with a velocity incredible, and diverſifying their character and deſcription, they are capable of mi⯑micking [133] the general voice. We muſt not always judge of the generality of the opinion by the noiſe of the acclamation.

The majority, the other four-fifths, is perfectly ſound, and of the beſt poſſible diſpoſitions to religion, to government, to the true and undivided intereſt of their country. Such men are naturally diſpoſed to peace. They who are in poſſeſſion of all they wiſh, are languid and improvident. With this fault, (and I admit its exiſtence in all its extent) they would not endure to hear of a peace that led to the ruin of every thing for which peace is dear to them. How⯑ever, the deſire of peace is eſſentially the weak ſide of all ſuch men. All men that are ruined, are ruined on the ſide of their natural propenſities. There they are unguarded. They do not ſuſpect that their de⯑ſtruction is attempted through their virtues. This their enemies are perfectly aware of, and accordingly they, the moſt turbulent of mankind, who never made a ſcruple to ſhake the tranquillity of their country to its centre, raiſe a continual cry for peace with France. Peace with regicides, and war with the reſt of the world, is their true motto. From the beginning, and even whilſt the French gave the blows, and we hardly oppoſed the vis inertiae to their efforts, from that day to this hour, like importunate Guinea-fowls crying one note day and night, they have called Peace, peace!!—Ibid.

JUDGMENT AND SENSIBILITY.

A rectitude of judgment in the arts, which may be called a good taſte, does in a great meaſure depend upon ſenſibility; becauſe if the mind has no bent to the pleaſures of the imagination, it will never apply itſelf ſufficiently to works of that ſpecies to acquire a competent knowledge in them. But though a degree of ſenſibility is requiſite to form a good judgment, [134] yet a good judgment does not neceſſarily ariſe from a quick ſenſibility of pleaſure; it frequently happens that a very poor judge, merely by force of a greater complexional ſenſibility, is more affected by a very poor piece, than the beſt judge by the moſt perfect; for as every thing new, extraordinary, grand, or paſ⯑ſionate, is well calculated to affect ſuch a perſon, and that the faults do not affect him, his pleaſure is more pure and unmixed; and as it is merely a pleaſure of the imagination, it is much higher than any which is derived from a rectitude of the judgment; the judgment is for the greater part employed in throwing ſtumbling-blocks in the way of the imagination, in diſſipating the ſcenes of its enchantment, and in tying us down to the diſagreeable yoke of our reaſon; for almoſt the only pleaſure that men have in judging better than others, conſiſts in a ſort of conſcious pride and ſuperiority, which ariſes from thinking rightly; but then, this is an indirect pleaſure, a pleaſure which does not im⯑mediately reſult from the object which is under con⯑templation. In the morning of our days, when the ſenſes are unworn and tender, when the whole man is awake in every part, and the gloſs of novelty freſh upon all the objects that ſurround us, how lively at that time are our ſenſations, but how falſe and inac⯑curate the judgments we form of things? I deſpair of ever receiving the ſame degree of pleaſure from the moſt excellent performances of genius which I felt at that age, from pieces which my preſent judgment regards as trifling and contemptible. Every trivial cauſe of pleaſure is apt to affect the man of too ſan⯑guine a complexion: his appetite is too keen to ſuffer his taſte to be delicate; and he is in all reſpects what Ovid ſays of himſelf in love,

One of this character can never be a refined judge; never what the comic poet calls elegans formarum [135] ſpectator. The excellence and force of a compoſition muſt always be imperfectly eſtimated from its effect on the minds of any, except we know the temper and character of thoſe minds. The moſt powerful effects of poetry and muſic have been diſplayed, and per⯑haps are ſtill diſplayed, where theſe arts are but in a very low and imperfect ſtate. The rude hearer is affected by the principles which operate in theſe arts even in their rudeſt condition; and he is not ſkilful enough to perceive the defects. But as arts advance towards their perfection, the ſcience of criticiſm ad⯑vances with equal pace, and the pleaſure of judges is frequently interrupted by the faults which are diſ⯑covered in the moſt finiſhed compoſitions.—Intro⯑duction on Taſte.

INFORMER DESCRIBED.

A mercenary informer knows no diſtinction.—Under ſuch a ſyſtem, the obnoxious people are ſlaves, not only to the Government, but they live at the mercy of every individual; they are at once the ſlaves of the whole community, and of every part of it; and the worſt and moſt unmerciful men are thoſe on whoſe goodneſs they moſt depend.

In this ſituation, men not only ſhrink from the frowns of the ſtern Magiſtrate, but they are obliged to fly from their very places. The ſeeds of deſtruc⯑tion are ſown in civil intercourſe, in ſocial habitudes. The blood of wholeſome kindred is infected; their tables and beds are ſurrounded with ſnares; all the means given by Providence to make life ſafe and comfortable, are perverted into inſtruments of terror and torment. This ſpecies of univerſal ſubſerviency, that makes the very ſervant who waits behind your chair the arbiter of your life and fortune, has ſuch a tendency to degrade and debaſe mankind, and to deprive him of that aſſured and liberal ſtate of mind, which alone can make us what we ought to be, that [136] I vow to God I would ſooner bring myſelf to put a man to immediate death for opinions I diſliked, and ſo to get rid of the man and his opinions at once, than to fret him with a feveriſh being, tainted with the gaol diſtemper of a contagious ſervitude, to keep him above ground, an animated maſs of putrefaction, corrupted himſelf, and corrupting all about him.—

JURISDICTIONS.

ALL juriſdictions, which furniſh more matter of expence, more temptation to oppreſſion, or more means or inſtruments of corrupt influence, than ad⯑vantage to juſtice or political adminiſtration, ought to be aboliſhed.—Oecon. Reform.

JUDGES.

IT is the public juſtice that holds the community together; the eaſe, therefore, and independence of the Judges, ought to ſuperſede all other conſidera⯑tions, and they ought to be the very laſt to feel the neceſſities of the State, or to be obliged either to court or bully a Miniſter for their right; they ought to be as weak ſolicitors on their own demands, as ſtre⯑nuous aſſertors of the rights and liberties of others. The Judges are, or ought to be, of a reſerved and retired character, and wholly unconnected with the political world.—Ibid.

INSTITUTION (POLITICAL.)

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 ſhewn that it was right, though imperfect; that it is not only by poſſibility ſuſceptible of improvement, but that it contains a principle tending to its meliora⯑tion.—Appeal from the new to the old Whigs.

JUSTICE.

JUSTICE is itſelf the great ſtanding policy of civil ſociety; and any eminent departure from it, under any circumſtance, lies under the ſuſpicion of being no policy at all.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

IRISH CATHOLICS. Conduct of the Iriſh Catholics in London during the Riots in 1780.

THERE was a circumſtance (juſtice will not ſuffer me to paſs it over) which, if any thing could enforce the reaſons I have given, would fully juſtify the act of relief, and render a repeal, or any thing like a repeal, unnatural, impoſſible. It was the behaviour of the perſecuted Roman Catholics under the acts of violence and brutal inſolence which they ſuffered. I ſuppoſe there are not in London leſs than four or five thouſand of that perſuaſion from my country, who do a great deal of the moſt laborious works in the metropolis; and they chiefly inhabit thoſe quarters which were the principal theatre of the fury of the bigotted multitude. They are known to be men of ſtrong arms and quick feelings, and more remarkable for a determined reſolution, than clear ideas, or much foreſight. But though provoked by every thing that can ſtir the blood of men, their houſes and chapels in flames, and with the moſt atrocious profanations of every thing which they hold ſacred before their eyes, not a hand was moved to retaliate, or even to defend.—Speech at Briſtol, previous to the Election.

IRISH CATHOLICS. Object and Effect of the Popery Laws.

SETTING, therefore, this caſe out of the queſtion, it becomes an object of very ſerious conſideration, [138] 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 com⯑mon, if it at all exiſts, has ariſen from them. Their declared object was to reduce the Catholics of Ire⯑land to a miſerable populace, without property, with⯑out 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 bo⯑dies, without common intereſt, ſympathy, or con⯑nection. 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 re⯑duced 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 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 ariſto⯑cratic 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 [139] only wiſh to make them the dupes of their turbulent ambition.—

IRISH CATHOLICS (STATE OF THE.)

THE Proteſtants of Ireland are not alone ſuffici⯑ently 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 obedi⯑ence, can be only the claim or the impoſture of the few. I hold it to be abſolutely impoſſible for two millions of plebeians, (Catholics) compoſing cer⯑tainly, a very clear and decided majority in that claſs, to become ſo far in love with ſix or ſeven hun⯑dred 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 maſ⯑ters; and by the manners derived from their circum⯑ſtances, muſt be capable of exerciſing upon them, daily and hourly, an inſulting and vexatious ſuperi⯑ority. Neither are the majority of the Iriſh indem⯑nified (as in ſome ariſtocracies) for this ſtate of hu⯑miliating 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 honour, every truſt, every place down to the very loweſt and leaſt confidential (beſides whole profeſ⯑ſions) is reſerved for the maſter caſt.—Ibid.

IRISH CATHOLICS EXCLUDED THE ELECTIVE FRANCHISE^*.

I WILL not here examine, whether the principles of the Britiſh [the Iriſh] conſtitution, be wiſe or [140] 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 them⯑ſelves 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 on actual, and, if poſſible, ſtill leſs a virtual repre⯑ſentation. 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 tyran⯑nic ſuſpicion, to urge them to treat the excluded people with contempt and rigour.

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 conſti [...]tion, 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 [141] 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 ex⯑clude 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 judica⯑ture 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 any thing 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 conjunc⯑tion of theſe mutual diſpoſitions are laid the foun⯑dations of a happy and proſperous commonwealth. For my own part, deſiring of all things that the autho⯑rity 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.—Ibid.

IRISH CATHOLIC. Poſſeſſes no virtual Repreſentation. (See Repreſentation Virtual.)

THE Iriſh Catholic, as a Catholic and belonging to a deſcription, has no virtual relation to the repre⯑ſentative; but the contrary. There is a relation in [142] mutual obligation. Gratitude may not always have a very laſting power; but the frequent recurrence of an application for favours 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 ad⯑vertiſed 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 diſ⯑cretion 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, whe⯑ther the narrowing of the foundation is always the beſt way to ſecure the building? The body of diſ⯑franchiſed men will not be perfectly ſatisfied to re⯑main 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 [143] arbitrary maſter; or, that they are not permitted to fpawn an hydra of wild republics, on principles of a pretended natural equality in man; but, becauſe you will not ſuffer them to enjoy the ancient, funda⯑mental, tried advantages of a Britiſh conſtitution: that you will not permit them to profit of the pro⯑tection of a common father, or the freedom of com⯑mon 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 feel⯑ings muſt be, it is for you to look to. To warn is not to menace.—Ibid.

IRISH CATHOLICS. Repeal of the Teſt Act in Ireland, &c.

SO far as to England. In Ireland you have out⯑ran us. Without waiting for an Engliſh example, you have totally, and without any modification what⯑ſoever, 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 pe⯑culiarly 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 pre⯑vious [144] 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 perſidy 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 eſta⯑bliſhed religion. You did this upon a full conſidera⯑tion 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 ur⯑gent reaſon at the time, they were deprived of? If ſuch means can with any probability be ſhown, from cir⯑cumſtances, 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 I. did when he paſſed the ſtatute which took from the body of the people, every thing which, to that hour, and even after the monſtrous acts of the 2d and 8th of Anne (the objects of our common hatred) they ſtill enjoyed inviolate.—Ibid.

IRELAND. Iriſh Catholic Clergy. (See PROTESTANT CLERGY.)

WHEN we are to provide for the education of any body of men, we ought ſeriouſly to conſider the par⯑ticular functions they are to perform in life. A Ro⯑man 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 him⯑ſelf, 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 ap⯑propriated mode of education. The theological opi⯑nions and peculiar rites of one religion never can be properly taught in univerſities, founded for the pur⯑poſes 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 ſemi⯑nary 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 hav⯑ing 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 antient appellation, but thoſe who wiſh to addreſs them with civility, always call them hieromonachi. In conſequence of this diſre⯑ſpect, which I venture to ſay, in ſuch a church, muſt be the conſequence of a ſecular life, a very great [146] 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 re⯑ſtraint 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 con⯑ceive they generally are, a very great ſervice to it.—Letter on the penal Laws againſt Iriſh Catholics.

IRELAND. Genius and Policy of the Engliſh Government in Ire⯑land; Revolution, &c. (See IRISH CATHOLICS.)

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 [147] from vengeance, which were not only not perfectly agreeable to its principles, but in the moſt direct con⯑tradiction to them. I ſhall not think that the depri⯑vation 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 opera⯑tion 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 Irelend, 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 dif⯑ferent 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 expence of the civil li⯑berties and properties of the far greater part; and at the expence of the political liberties of the whole. It was, to ſay the truth, not a revolution, but a con⯑queſt; which is not to ſay a great deal in its favour. To inſiſt on every thing done in Ireland at the re⯑volution, 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—ex⯑cept in Ireland; where it is done, and poſſibly by ſome people will be profeſſed. Time has, by de⯑grees, in all other places and periods, blended and coalited the conquered with the conquerors. So, [148] after ſome time, and after one of the moſt rigid con⯑queſts that we read of in hiſtory, the Normans ſof⯑tened into the Engliſh. I wiſh you to turn your re⯑collection to the fine ſpeech of Cerealis to the Gauls, made to diſſuade them from revolt. Speaking of the Romans,— ‘"Nos quamvis toties laceſſiti, jure victo⯑riae id ſolum vobis addidimus, quo pacem tuere⯑mur; nam neque quies gentium ſine armis; neque arma ſine ſtipendiis; neque ſtipendia ſine tributis, haberi queant. Coetera in communi ſita ſunt: ipſi plerumque noſtris exercitibus proeſidetis: ipſi has aliaſque provincias regitis: nil ſeperatum 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 pur⯑ſue with the governing power.

For a much longer period than that which had ſuf⯑ficed to blend the Romans with the nation to which of all others they were the moſt adverſe, the Pro⯑teſtants ſettled in Ireland, conſidered themſelves in no other light than that of a ſort of colonial garri⯑ſon, to keep the natives in ſubjection to the other ſtate of Great Britain. The whole ſpirit of the re⯑volution in Ireland, was that of not the mildeſt con⯑queror. In truth, the ſpirit of thoſe proceedings did not commence at that aera, 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 ſhew, that the ſpirit of the po⯑pery laws, and ſome even of their actual proviſions, as applied between Engliſhry and Iriſhry, had ex⯑iſted in that haraſſed country before the words Pro⯑teſtant [149] and Papiſt were heard of in the world. If we read baron Finglas, Spenſer, and Sir John Davis, 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 Davis 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 conſpira⯑cies, 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 were carried on, particularly from Chicheſter's time, in the ordinary courts of juſtice, and by ſpecial com⯑miſſions and inquiſitions; firſt, under pretence of te⯑nures, and then of titles in the crown, for the pur⯑poſe of the total extirpation of the intereſt of the na⯑tives 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 any thing 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. [150] They who carried on this ſyſtem, looked to the irre⯑ſiſtible 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 ſerv⯑ed only to augment their torture. Machines, which could anſwer their purpoſes ſo well, muſt be of an excellent contrivance. Indeed, in England, the dou⯑ble name of the complainants, Iriſh and Papiſts (it would be hard to ſay, ſingly, 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 bigotted 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 [...]aint 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 conſiſ⯑tency 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 com⯑mon 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 legiſla⯑ture, [151] felt jointly the propriety of this meaſure. The Iriſh parliament and nation became independent.

The true revolution to you, that which moſt in⯑trinſically and ſubſtantially reſembled the Engliſh re⯑volution 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 pre⯑deceſſors of Poyning's law; no abſolute idol with the parliament of 1782.

Great Britain finding the Anglo-Iriſh highly ani⯑mated with a ſpirit, which had, indeed, ſhewn itſelf before, though with little energy, and many inter⯑ruptions, and therefore ſuffered a multitude of uni⯑form 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 polites 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 ſupe⯑riority, for the preſervation of which, and the ac⯑quiſition, ſhe had ſupported the Engliſh colonies in [152] Ireland for ſo long a time, and at ſo vaſt an expence (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 exa⯑mine 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 am⯑bition. 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 the ordinary courſe, as thoſe which are now objected againſt admitting your people to any of the benefits of an Engliſh con⯑ſtitution. 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 [153] and ſeditious; which on ſuch occaſions are ſo fre⯑quently 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 modifi⯑cation 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 king⯑doms, 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; con⯑ſider 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 [154] people under the protection of the laws? What reaſon have you to dread the conſequences of ad⯑mitting the people poſſeſſing that property to ſome ſhare in the protection of the conſtitution?— Letter to Sir H. Langriſhe, M. P.

IRELAND. The Engliſh Parliament early communicated to Ireland.

IRELAND, before the Engliſh conqueſt, though never governed by a deſpotic power, had no parlia⯑ment. How far the Engliſh parliament itſelf was at that time modelled according to the preſent form, is diſputed among antiquarians. But we have all the reaſon in the world to be aſſured, that a form of par⯑liament, ſuch as England then enjoyed, ſhe inſtantly communicated to Ireland; and we are equally ſure that almoſt every ſucceſſive improvement in conſti⯑tutional liberty, as faſt as it was made here, was tranſmitted thither. The feudal baronage, and the feudal knighthood, the roots of our primitive con⯑ſtitution, were early tranſplanted into that ſoil; and grew and flouriſhed there. Magna Charta, if it did not give us originally the houſe of commons, gave us at leaſt an houſe of commons of weight and con⯑ſequence. But your anceſtors did not churliſhly ſit down alone to the feaſt of Magna Charta. Ireland was made immediately a partaker. This benefit of Engliſh laws and liberties, I confeſs, was not at firſt extended to all Ireland. Mark the conſequence. Engliſh authority and Engliſh liberties had exactly the ſame boundaries. Your ſtandard could never be advanced an inch before your privileges. Sir John Davis ſhews beyond a doubt, that the refuſal of a general communication of theſe rights, was the true cauſe why Ireland was five hundred years in ſubduing; and after the vain projects of a military government, attempted in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, it was [155] ſoon diſcovered, that nothing could make that country Engliſh, in civility and allegiance, but your laws and your forms of legiſlature. It was not Engliſh arms, but the Engliſh conſtitution, that conquered Ireland. From that time, Ireland has ever had a general parliament, as ſhe had before a partial parliament. You changed the people; you altered the religion; but you never touched the form or the vital ſubſtance of free government in that kingdom. You depoſed kings; you reſtored them; you altered the ſucceſſion to theirs, as well as to your own crown; but you never altered their conſtitution; the principle of which was reſpected by uſurpation; reſtored with the reſto⯑ration of monarchy, and eſtabliſhed, I truſt, for ever, by the glorious Revolution. This has made Ireland the great and flouriſhing kingdom that it is; and from a diſgrace and a burthen intolerable to this nation, has rendered a principal part of our ſtrength and ornament. This country cannot be ſaid to have ever formally taxed her. The irregular things done in the confuſion of mighty troubles, and on the hinge of great revolutions, even if all were done that is ſaid to have been done, form no example. If they have any effect in argument, they make an exception to prove the rule. None of your own liberties could ſtand a moment if the caſual deviations from them, at ſuch times, were ſuffered to be uſed as proofs of their nullity. By the lucrative amount of ſuch caſual breaches in the conſtitution, judge what the ſtated and fixed rule of ſupply has been in that kingdom. Your Iriſh penſioners would ſtarve, if they had no other fund to live on than taxes granted by Engliſh authority. Turn your eyes to thoſe popular grants from whence all your great ſupplies are come; and learn to reſpect that only ſource of public wealth in the Britiſh empire—Speech on Conciliation with America.

IRELAND. State of Ireland in 1780.

THE firſt conceſſions to Ireland, by being (much againſt my will) mangled and ſtripped of the parts which were neceſſary to make out their juſt corre⯑ſpondence and connection in trade, were of no uſe. The next year a feeble attempt was made to bring the thing into better ſhape. This attempt (countenanced by the miniſter^*) on the very firſt appearance of ſome popular uneaſineſs, was, after a conſiderable progreſs through the houſe, thrown out by him.

What was the conſequence? The whole kingdom of Ireland was inſtantly in a flame. Threatened by foreigners, and, as they thought, inſulted by Eng⯑land, they reſolved at once to reſiſt the power of France, and to caſt off yours. As for us, we were able neither to protect nor to reſtrain them. Forty thouſand men were raiſed and diſciplined without commiſſion from the crown. Two illegal armies were ſeen with banners diſplayed at the ſame time, and in the ſame country. No executive magiſtrate, no judicature, in Ireland, would acknowledge the legality of the army which bore the king's commiſſion; and no law, or appearance of law, authoriſed the army commiſſioned by itſelf. In this unexampled ſtate of things, which the leaſt error, the leaſt treſpaſs on the right or left, would have hurried down the precipice into an abyſs of blood and confuſion, the people of Ireland demand a freedom of trade with arms in their hands. They interdict all commerce between the two nations. They deny all new ſupply in the houſe of commons, although in time of war. They ſtint the truſt of the old revenue, given for two years to all the king's predeceſſors, to ſix months. The Britiſh parliament, in a former ſeſſion frightened into a limited conceſſion by the menaces of Ireland, frightened out of it by the menaces of England, was now frightened back again, and made an univerſal [157] ſurrender of all that had been thought the peculiar, reſerved, uncommunicable rights of England;—the excluſive commerce of America, of Africa, of the Weſt-Indies—all the enumerations of the acts of navigation—all the manufactures,—iron, glaſs, even the laſt pledge of jealouſy and pride, the intereſt hid in the ſecret of our hearts, the inveterate prejudice moulded into the conſtitution of our frame, even the ſacred fleece itſelf, all went together. No reſerve; no exception; no debate; no diſcuſſion. A ſudden light broke in upon us all. It broke in, not through well-contrived and well-diſpoſed windows, but through flaws and breaches; through the yawning chaſms of our ruin. We were taught wiſdom by humiliation. No town in England preſumed to have a prejudice; or dared to mutter a petition. What was worſe, the whole Parliament of England, which retained autho⯑rity for nothing but ſurrenders, was deſpoiled of every ſhadow of its ſuperintendance. It was, without any qualification, denied in theory, as it had been trampled upon in practice. This ſcene of ſhame and diſgrace has, in a manner whilſt I am ſpeaking, ended by the perpetual eſtabliſhment of a military power, in the dominions of this crown, without con⯑ſent of the Britiſh legiſlature^*, contrary to the policy of the conſtitution, contrary to the declaration of right: and by this your liberties are ſwept away along with your ſupreme authority—and both, linked together from the beginning, have, I am afraid, both together periſhed for ever.

What! gentlemen, was I not to foreſee, or fore⯑ſeeing, was I not to endeavour to ſave you from all theſe multiplied miſchiefs and diſgraces? Would the little, ſilly, canvaſs prattle of obeying inſtructions, and having no opinions but yours, and ſuch idle ſenſeleſs tales, which amuſe the vacant ears of un⯑thinking men, have ſaved you from ‘"the pelting of [158] that pitileſs ſtorm,"’ to which the looſe improvi⯑dence, the cowardly raſhneſs of thoſe who dare not look danger in the face, ſo as to provide againſt it in time, and therefore throw themſelves headlong into the midſt of it, have expoſed this degraded nation, beat down and proſtrate on the earth, un⯑ſheltered, unarmed, unreſiſting? Was I an Iriſhman on that day, that I boldly withſtood our pride? or on the day that I hung down my head, and wept in ſhame and ſilence over the humiliation of Great Britain? I became unpopular in England for the one, and in Ireland for the other. What then? What obligation lay on me to be popular? I was bound to ſerve both kingdoms. To be pleaſed with my ſervice, was their affair, not mine.—Speech previous to the Election at Briſtol.

INFLUENCE (CORRUPT.)

CORRUPT influence is itſelf the perennial ſpring of all prodigality, and of all diſorder; which loads us, more than millions of debt; which takes away vigour from our arms, wiſdom from our councils, and every ſhadow of authority and credit from the moſt venerable parts of our conſtitution.—Oecon. Reform.

INDIVIDUALS.

INDIVIDUALS paſs like ſhadows; but the com⯑monwealth is fixed and ſtable. The difference therefore of to-day and to-morrow, which to private people is immenſe, to the ſtate is nothing.—Ibid.

KINGS.

KINGS are naturally lovers of low company.—They are ſo elevated above all the reſt of mankind, that they muſt look upon all their ſubjects as on a [159] level. They are rather apt to hate than to love their nobility, on account of the occaſional reſiſtance to their will, which will be made by their virtue, their petulance, or their pride. It muſt indeed be ad⯑mitted, that many of the nobility are as perfectly willing to act the part of flatterers, tale-bearers, pa⯑raſites, pimps, and buſſoons, as any of the loweſt and vileſt of mankind can poſſibly be. But they are not properly qualified for this object of their ambi⯑tion. The want of a regular education, and early habits, and ſome lurking remains of their dignity, will never permit them to become a match for an Italian eunuch, a mountebank, a fidler, a player, or any regular practitioner of that tribe. The Roman Emperors, almoſt from the beginning, threw them⯑ſelves into ſuch hands, and the miſchief increaſed every day till its decline, and its final ruin. It is therefore of very great importance (provided the thing is not overdone) to contrive ſuch an eſtabliſh⯑ment as muſt, almoſt whether a prince will or not, bring into daily and hourly offices about his perſon, a great number of his firſt nobility; and it is rather an uſeful prejudice that gives them a pride in ſuch a ſervitude. Though they are not much the better for a court, a court will be much the better for them. I have therefore not attempted to reform any of the offices of honour about the king's perſon.—Ibid.

KINGS (ADULATORY ADDRESSES TO).

Dr. Price, in this ſermon^*, condemns very pro⯑perly the practice of groſs, adulatory addreſſes to kings. Inſtead of this fulſome ſtyle, he propoſes that his majeſty ſhould be told, on occaſions of con⯑gratulation, that ‘"he is to conſider himſelf as more properly the ſervant than the ſovereign of his people."’ For a compliment, this new form of [160] addreſs does not ſeem to be very ſoothing. Thoſe who are ſervants, in name, as well as in effect, do not like to be told of their ſituation, their duty, and their obligations. The ſlave, in the old play, tells his maſter, ‘"Haec commemoratio eſt quafi exprobratio."’ It is not pleaſant as compliment, it is not wholeſome as inſtruction. After all, if the king were to bring himſelf to echo this new kind of addreſs, to adopt it in terms, and even to take the appellation of Ser⯑vant of the People as his royal ſtyle, how either he or we ſhould be much mended by it, I cannot ima⯑gine. I have ſeen very aſſuming letters, ſigned, Your moſt obedient, humble ſervant. The proudeſt domination that ever was endured on earth took a title of ſtill greater humility than that which is now propoſed for ſovereigns by the Apoſtle of Liberty. Kings and nations were trampled upon by the foot of one calling himſelf ‘"the Servant of Servants;"’ and mandates for depoſing ſovereigns were ſealed with the ſignet of ‘"the Fiſherman."’

I ſhould have conſidered all this as no more than a ſort of ſlippant vain diſcourſe, in which, as in an unſavory fume, ſeveral perſons ſuffer the ſpirit of liberty to evaporate, if it were not plainly in ſup⯑port of the idea, and a part of the ſcheme of ‘"ca⯑ſhiering kings for miſconduct."’ In that light it is worth ſome obſervation.

Kings, in one ſenſe, are undoubtedly the ſervants of the people, becauſe their power has no other ra⯑tional end than that of the general advantage; but it is not true that they are, in the ordinary ſenſe (by our conſtitution at leaſt) any thing like ſervants; the eſſence of whoſe ſituation is to obey the commands of ſome other, and to be removeable at pleaſure.—But the King of Great Britain obeys no other per⯑ſon; all other perſons are individually, and col⯑lectively too, under him, and owe to him a legal obedience. The law, which knows neither to flatter nor to inſult, calls this high magiſtrate, not our ſer⯑vant, [161] as this humble Divine calls him, but ‘"our ſovereign lord the King;"’ and we, on our parts, have learned to ſpeak only the primitive language of the law, and not the confuſed jargon of their Babylonian pulpits.

As he is not to obey us, but as we are to obey the law in him, our conſtitution has made no ſort of proviſion towards rendering him, as a ſervant, in any degree reſponſible. Our conſtitution knows nothing of a magiſtrate like the Juſticia of Arragon; nor of any court legally appointed, nor of any proceſs le⯑gally ſettled for ſubmitting the king to the reſpon⯑ſibility belonging to all ſervants. In this he is not diſtinguiſhed from the Commons and the Lords; who, in their ſeveral public capacities, can never be called to an account for their conduct; although the Revolution Society chuſes to aſſert, in direct oppoſition to one of the wiſeſt and moſt beautiful parts of our conſtitution, that ‘"a king is no more than the firſt ſervant of the public, created by it, and reſponſible to it."’—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

KING'S MEN.

TO reconcile the minds of the people to all theſe movements, principles correſpondent to them had been preached up with great zeal. Every one muſt remember that the cabal ſet out with the moſt aſto⯑niſhing prudery, both moral and political. Thoſe who in a few months after ſouſed over head and ears into the deepeſt and dirtieſt pits of corruption, cried out violently againſt the indirect practices in the electing and managing of parliaments, which had for⯑merly prevailed. This marvellous abhorrence which the Court had ſuddenly taken to all influence, was not only circulated in converſation through the king⯑dom, but pompouſly announced to the public, with [162] many other extraordinary things, in a pamphlet which had all the appearance of a manifeſto preparatory to ſome conſiderable enterprize. Throughout, it was a ſatire, though in terms managed and decent enough, on the politics of the former reign. It was indeed written with no ſmall art and addreſs.

In this piece (Sentiments of an honeſt Man) ap⯑peared the firſt dawning of the new ſyſtem; there firſt appeared the idea (then only in ſpeculation) of ſeparating the court from the adminiſtration; of carry⯑ing every thing from national connection to perſonal regards; and of forming a regular party for that pur⯑poſe, under the name of king's men.

To recommend this ſyſtem to the people, a per⯑ſpective view of the Court, gorgeouſly painted, and finely illuminated from within, was exhibited to the gaping multitude. Party was to be totally done away, with all its evil works. Corruption was to be caſt down from Court, as Atè was from Heaven. Power was thenceforward to be the choſen reſidence of public ſpirit; and no one was to be ſuppoſed under any ſiniſter influence, except thoſe who had the mis⯑fortune to be in diſgrace at court, which was to ſtand in lieu of all vices and all corruptions. A ſcheme of perfection to be realized in a monarchy far beyond the viſionary republic of Plato. The whole ſcenery was exactly diſpoſed to captivate thoſe good ſouls, whoſe credulous morality is ſo invaluable a treaſure to crafty politicians. Indeed there was wherewithal to charm every body, except thoſe few who are not much pleaſed with profeſſions of ſuper⯑natural virtue, who know of what ſtuff ſuch profeſ⯑ſions are made, for what purpoſes they are deſigned, and in what they are ſure conſtantly to end. Many innocent gentlemen, who had been talking proſe all their lives without knowing any thing of the matter, began at laſt to open their eyes upon their own merits, and to attribute their not having been Lords of the Treaſury and Lords of Trade many years before, [163] merely to the prevalence of party, and to the mini⯑ſterial power, which had fruſtrated the good intentions of the Court in favour of their abilities. Now was the time to unlock the ſealed fountain of royal bounty, which had been infamouſly monopolized and huck⯑ſtered, and to let it flow at large upon the whole people. The time was come to reſtore royalty to its original ſplendor. Mettre le Roy hors de page, became a ſort of watch-word; and it was conſtantly in the mouths of all the runners of the Court, that nothing could preſerve the balance of the conſtitution from being overturned by the rabble, or by a faction of the nobility, but to free the ſovereign effectually from that miniſterial tyranny under which the royal dignity had been oppreſſed in the perſon of his Majeſty's grandfather.

Theſe were ſome of the many artifices uſed to re⯑concile the people to the great change which was made in the perſons who compoſed the miniſtry, and the ſtill greater which was made and avowed in its conſtitution. As to individuals, other methods were employed with them; in order ſo thoroughly to diſ⯑unite every party, and even every family, that no concert; order, or effect, might appear in any future oppoſition. And in this manner an Adminiſtration, without connection with the people, or with one another, was firſt put in poſſeſſion of government. What good conſequences followed from it; we have all ſeen; whether with regard to virtue, public or private; to the eaſe and happineſs of the ſovereign; or to the real ſtrength of government. But as ſo much ſtreſs was then laid on the neceſſity of this new project, it will not be amiſs to take a view of the ef⯑fects of this royal ſervitude and vile durance, which was ſo deplored in the reign of the late monarch, and was ſo carefully to be avoided in the reign of his ſucceſſor.—Thoughts on the Cauſe of the preſent Diſ⯑contents.

KINGS.

KINGS will be tyrants from policy, when ſubjects are rebels from principle.—Ibid.

KING OF GREAT BRITAIN. Crown of England hereditary. (See KING'S MEN, PRINCES, MINISTERS, CABINET (DOUBLE), RE⯑VOLUTION SOCIETY, &c.

THERE is ground enough for the opinion that all the kingdoms of Europe were, at a remote period, elective, with more or fewer limitations in the objects of choice; but whatever kings might have been here or elſewhere, a thouſand years ago, or in whatever manner the ruling dynaſties of England or France may have begun, the King of Great Britain is at this day king by a fixed rule of ſucceſſion, according to the laws of his country; and whilſt the legal condi⯑tions of the compact of ſovereignty are performed by him (as they are performed) he holds his crown in contempt of the choice of the Revolution Society, who have not a ſingle vote for a king amongſt them, either individually or collectively; though I make no doubt they would ſoon erect themſelves into an elec⯑toral college, if things were ripe to give effect to their claim. His Majeſty's heirs and ſucceſſors, each in his 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.

Whatever may be the ſucceſs of evaſion in ex⯑plaining away the groſs error of fact, which ſuppoſes that his Majeſty (though he holds it in concurrence with the wiſhes) owes his crown to the choice of his people, yet nothing can evade their full explicit de⯑claration, concerning the principle of a right in the people to chuſe, which right is directly maintained, and tenaciouſly adhered to. All the oblique inſinu⯑ations concerning election bottom in this propoſition, and are referable to it. Leſt the foundation of the king's excluſive legal title ſhould paſs for a mere rant [165] of adulatory freedom, the political divine (Dr. Price) proceeds dogmatically to aſſert^*, that by the prin⯑ciples of the revolution, the people of England have acquired three fundamental rights, all which, with him, compoſe one ſyſtem, and lie together in one ſhort ſentence; namely, that we have acquired a right

This new, and hitherto unheard of bill of rights, though made in the name of the whole people, be⯑longs to thoſe gentlemen (Revolution Society) and their faction only. The body of the people of Eng⯑land have no ſhare in it; they utterly diſclaim it; they will reſiſt the practical aſſertion of it with their lives and fortunes. They are bound to do ſo by the laws of their country, made at the time of that very revolution, which is appealed to in favour of the fictitious rights claimed by the ſociety which abuſes its name.

Theſe gentlemen of the Old Jewry, in all their reaſonings on the revolution of 1688, have a revolu⯑tion which happened in England about forty years before, and the late French revolution, ſo much be⯑fore their eyes, and in their hearts, that they are conſtantly confounding all the three together. It is neceſſary that we ſhould ſeparate what they confound. We muſt recall their erring fancies to the acts of the revolution which we revere, for the diſcovery of its true principles. If the principles of the revolution of 1688 are any where to be found, it is in the ſtatute called the Declaration of Right. In that moſt wiſe, ſober, and conſiderate declaration, drawn up by great lawyers and great ſtateſmen, and not by warm and inexperienced enthuſiaſts, not one word is ſaid, nor one ſuggeſtion made, of a general right ‘"to [166] chuſe our own governors; to caſhier them for miſ⯑conduct; and to form a government for ourſelves."’

This declaration of right (the act of the 1ſt of William and Mary, ſeſſ. 2. ch. 2.) is the corner-ſtone of our conſtitution, as reinforced, explained, im⯑proved, and in its fundamental principles for ever ſettled. It is called ‘"An act for declaring the rights and liberties of the ſubject, and for ſettling the ſucceſſion of the crown."’ You will obſerve, that theſe rights and this ſucceſſion are declared in one body, and bound indiſſolubly together.

A few years after this period, a ſecond opportu⯑nity offered for aſſerting a right of election to the crown. On the proſpect of a total failure of iſſue from King William, and from the Princeſs, after⯑wards Queen Anne, the conſideration of the ſettle⯑ment of the crown, and of a further ſecurity for the liberties of the people, again came before the Le⯑giſlature. Did they this ſecond time make any pro⯑viſion for legalizing the crown on the ſpurious revo⯑lution principles of the Old Jewry? No. They fol⯑lowed the principles which prevailed in the Declara⯑tion of Right; indicating with more preciſion the perſons who were to inherit in the Proteſtant line.—This act alſo incorporated, by the ſame policy, our liberties, and an hereditary ſucceſſion in the ſame act. Inſtead of a right to chuſe our own governors, they declared that the ſucceſſion in that line (the Proteſtant line drawn from James the Firſt) was abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary ‘"for the peace, quiet, and ſecurity of the realm,"’ and that it was equally urgent on them ‘"to maintain a certainty in the ſucceſſion thereof, to which the ſubjects may ſafely have recourſe for their protection."’ Both theſe acts, in which are heard the unerring, unambiguous oracles of revolution policy, inſtead of countenancing the deluſive, gipſey predictions of a ‘"right to chuſe our governors,"’ prove to a demonſtration how totally adverſe the wiſ⯑dom [167] of the nation was from turning a caſe of neceſſity into a rule of law.

Unqueſtionably there was at the revolution, in the perſon of King William, a ſmall and a temporary de⯑viation from the ſtrict order of a regular hereditary ſucceſſion; but it is againſt all genuine principles of juriſprudence to draw a principle from a law made in a ſpecial caſe, and regarding an individual perſon. Privilegium non tranſit in exemplum. If ever there was a time favourable for eſtabliſhing the principle, that a king of popular choice was the only legal king, without all doubt it was at the revolution. Its not being done at that time is a proof that the nation was of opinion it ought not to be done at any time. There is no perſon ſo completely ignorant of our hiſtory, as not to know that the majority in Parlia⯑ment of both parties were ſo little diſpoſed to any thing reſembling that principle, that at firſt they were determined to place the vacant crown, not on the head of the Prince of Orange, but on that of his wife Mary, daughter of King James, the eldeſt born of the iſſue of that king, which they acknowledged as undoubtedly his. It would be to repeat a very trite ſtory, to recall to your memory all thoſe circum⯑ſtances which demonſtrated that their accepting King William was not properly a choice; but to all thoſe who did not wiſh, in effect, to recall King James, or to deluge their country in blood, and again to bring their religion, laws, and liberties into the peril they had juſt eſcaped, it was an act of neceſſity, in the ſtricteſt moral ſenſe in which neceſſity can be taken.

In the very act, in which, for a time, and in a ſingle caſe, Parliament departed from the ſtrict order of inheritance, in favour of a prince, who, though not next, was however very near in the line of ſuc⯑ceſſion, it is curious to obſerve how Lord Somers, who drew the bill, called the Declaration of Right, has comported himſelf on that delicate occaſion. It is curious to obſerve with what addreſs this temporary [168] ſolution of continuity is kept from the eye; whilſt all that could be found in this act of neceſſity to countenance the idea of an hereditary ſucceſſion is brought forward, and foſtered, and made the moſt of, by this great man, and by the Legiſlature who followed him. Quitting the dry, imperative ſtyle of an act of Parliament, he makes the Lords and Com⯑mons fall to a pious, legiſlative ejaculation, and declare, that they conſider it ‘"as a marvellous pro⯑vidence, and merciful goodneſs of God to this nation, to preſerve their ſaid Majeſties royal per⯑ſons, moſt happily to reign over us on the throne of their anceſtors, for which, from the bottom of their hearts, they return their humbleſt thanks and praiſes."’ The Legiſlature plainly had in view the act of recognition of the firſt of Queen Elizabeth, chap. 3d, and of that of James the Firſt, chap. 1ſt, both acts ſtrongly declaratory of the inheritable na⯑ture of the crown, and in many parts they follow, with a nearly literal preciſion, the words, and even the form of thankſgiving, which is found in theſe old declaratory ſtatutes.

The two houſes, in the act of King William, did not thank God that they had found a fair opportunity to aſſert a right to chooſe their own governors, much leſs to make an election the only lawful title to the crown. Their having been in a condition to avoid the very appearance of it, as much as poſſible, was by them conſidered as a providential eſcape. They threw a politic, well-wrought veil over every cir⯑cumſtance tending to weaken the rights, which in the meliorated order of ſucceſſion they meant to perpetuate; or which might furniſh a precedent for any future departure from what they had then ſettled for ever. Accordingly, that they might not relax the nerves of their monarchy, and that they might preſerve a cloſe conformity to the practice of their anceſtors, as it appeared in the declaratory ſtatutes of [169] Queen Mary^* and Queen Elizabeth, in the next clauſe they veſt, by recognition, in their majeſties, all the legal prerogatives of the crown, declaring, ‘"that in them they are moſt fully, rightfully, and intirely inveſted, incorporated, united, and an⯑nexed."’ In the clauſe which follows, for pre⯑venting queſtions, by reaſon of any pretended titles to the crown, they declare (obſerving alſo in this the traditionary language, along with the traditionary policy of the nation, and repeating as from a rubric the language of the preceding acts of Elizabeth and James) that on the preſerving ‘"a certainty in the SUCCESSION thereof, the unity, peace, and tran⯑quillity of this nation doth, under God, wholly depend."’

They knew that a doubtful title of ſucceſſion would but too much reſemble an election; and that an election would be utterly deſtructive of the ‘"unity, peace, and tranquillity of this nation,"’ which they thought to be conſiderations of ſome moment. To provide for theſe objects, and there⯑fore to exclude for ever the Old Jewry doctrine of ‘"a right to chooſe our own governors,"’ they follow with a clauſe, containing a moſt ſolemn pledge, taken from the preceding act of Queen Elizabeth, as ſolemn a pledge as ever was or can be given in favour of an hereditary ſucceſſion, and as ſolemn a renunciation as could be made of the principles by this ſociety imputed to them. ‘"The lords ſpiritual and temporal, and commons, do, in the name of all the people aforeſaid, moſt humbly and faith⯑fully ſubmit themſelves, their heirs and poſterities for ever; and do faithfully promiſe, that they will ſtand to, maintain, and defend their ſaid majeſties, and alſo the limitation of the crown, herein ſpecified and contained, to the utmoſt of their powers," &c. &c.’

[170]So far is it from being true, that we acquired a right by the revolution to elect our kings, that if we had poſſeſſed it before, the Engliſh nation did at that time moſt ſolemnly renounce and abdicate it, for themſelves, and for all their poſterity for ever. Theſe gentlemen may value themſelves as much as they pleaſe on their whig principles; but I never deſire to be thought a better whig than Lord Somers; or to underſtand the principles of the revolution better than thoſe by whom it was brought about; or to read in the declaration of right any myſteries unknown to thoſe whoſe penetrating ſtyle has engraved in our ordinances, and in our hearts, the words and ſpirit of that immortal law.

It is true that, aided with the powers derived from force and opportunity, the nation was at that time, in ſome ſenſe, free to take what courſe it pleaſed for filling the throne; but only free to do ſo upon the ſame grounds on which they might have wholly aboliſhed their monarchy, and every other part of their conſtitution. However they did not think ſuch bold changes within their commiſſion. It is indeed difficult, perhaps impoſſible, to give limits to the mere abſtract competence of the ſupreme power, ſuch as was exerciſed by parliament at that time; but the limits of a moral competence, ſub⯑jecting, even in powers more indiſputably ſovereign, occaſional will to permanent reaſon, and to the ſteady maxims of faith, juſtice, and fixed fundamental po⯑licy, are perfectly intelligible, and perfectly binding upon thoſe who exerciſe any authority, under any name, or under any title, in the ſtate. The houſe of lords, for inſtance, is not morally competent to diſſolve the houſe of commons; no, nor even to diſſolve itſelf, nor to abdicate, if it would, its portion in the legiſlature of the kingdom. Though a king may abdicate for his own perſon, he cannot abdicate for the monarchy. By as ſtrong, or by a ſtronger reaſon, the houſe of commons cannot renounce its [171] ſhare of authority. The engagement and pact of ſociety, which generally goes by the name of the conſtitution, forbids ſuch invaſion and ſuch ſurrender. The conſtituent parts of a ſtate are obliged to hold their public faith with each other, and with all thoſe who derive any ſerious intereſt under their engage⯑ments, as much as the whole ſtate is bound to keep its faith with ſeparate communities. Otherwiſe competence and power would ſoon be confounded, and no law be left but the will of a prevailing force. On this principle the ſucceſſion of the crown has always been what it now is, an hereditary ſucceſſion by law: in the old line it was a ſucceſſion by the common law; in the new by the ſtatute law, operat⯑ing on the principles of the common law, not chang⯑ing the ſubſtance, but regulating the mode, and de⯑ſcribing the perſons. Both theſe deſcriptions of law are of the ſame force, and are derived from an equal authority, emanating from the common agreement and original compact of the ſtate, communi ſponſione reipublicae, and as ſuch are equally binding on king and people too, as long as the terms are obſerved, and they continue the ſame body politic.

It is far from impoſſible to reconcile, if we do not ſuffer ourſelves to be entangled in the mazes of metaphyſic ſophiſtry, the uſe both of a fixed rule and an occaſional deviation; the ſacredneſs of an here⯑ditary principle of ſucceſſion in our government, with a power of change in its application in caſes of extreme emergency. Even in that extremity (if we take the meaſure of our rights by our exerciſe of them at the revolution) the change is to be confined to the peccant part only; to the part which produced the neceſſary deviation; and even then it is to be effected without a decompoſition of the whole civil and political maſs, for the purpoſe of originating a new civil order out of the firſt elements of ſociety.

A ſtate without the means of ſome change is with⯑out the means of its conſervation. Without ſuch [172] means it might even riſk the loſs of that part of the conſtitution which it wiſhed the moſt religiouſly to preſerve. The two principles of conſervation and correction operated ſtrongly at the two critical pe⯑riods of the reſtoration and revolution, when Eng⯑land found itſelf without a king. At both thoſe pe⯑riods the nation had loſt the bond of union in their antient edifice; they did not, however, diſſolve the whole fabric. On the contrary, in both caſes they regenerated the deficient part of the old conſtitution through the parts which were not impaired. They kept theſe old parts exactly as they were, that the part recovered might be ſuited to them. They acted by the antient organized ſtates in the ſhape of their old organization, and not by the organic moleculoe of a diſbanded people. At no time, perhaps, did the ſovereign legiſlature manifeſt a more tender regard to that fundamental principle of Britiſh conſtitutional policy, than at the time of the revolution, when it deviated from the direct line of hereditary ſucceſſion. The crown was carried ſomewhat out of the line in which it had before moved; but the new line was derived from the ſame ſtock. It was ſtill a line of hereditary deſcent; ſtill an hereditary deſcent in the ſame blood, though an hereditary deſcent qualified with proteſtantiſm. When the legiſlature altered the direction, but kept the principle, they ſhewed that they held it inviolable.

On this principle, the law of inheritance had ad⯑mitted ſome amendment in the old time, and long before the aera of the revolution. Some time after the conqueſt, great queſtions aroſe upon the legal principles of hereditary deſcent. It became a matter of doubt, whether the heir per capita or the heir per ſtirpes was to ſucceed; but whether the heir per ca⯑pita gave way when the heirdom per ſtirpes took place, or the catholic heir when the proteſtant was preferred, the inheritable principle ſurvived with a ſort of immortality through all tranſmigrations— [173] multoſque per annos ſlat fortuna domûs et avi numerantur avorum. This is the ſpirit of our conſtitution, not only in its ſettled courſe, but in all its revolutions. Whoever came in, or however he came in, whether he obtained the crown by law, or by force, the he⯑reditary ſucceſſion was either continued or adopted.

The gentlemen of the ſociety for revolutions ſee nothing in that of 1688 but the deviation from the conſtitution; and they take the deviation from the principle for the principle. They have little regard to the obvious conſequences of their doctrine, though they muſt ſee, that it leaves poſitive authority in very few of the poſitive inſtitutions of this country. When ſuch an unwarrantable maxim is once eſtabliſhed, that no throne is lawful but the elective, no one act of the princes who preceded their aera of fictitious election can be valid. Do theſe theoriſts mean to imitate ſome of their predeceſſors, who dragged the bodies of our antient ſovereigns out of the quiet of their tombs? Do they mean to attaint and diſable backwards all the kings that have reigned before the revolution, and conſequently to ſtain the throne of England with the blot of a continual uſurpation? Do they mean to invalidate, annul, or to call into queſtion, together with the titles of the whole line of our kings, that great body of our ſtatute law which paſſed under thoſe whom they treat as uſurpers? to annul laws of ineſtimable value to our liberties—of as great value at leaſt as any which have paſſed at or ſince the period of the revolution? If kings, who did not owe their crown to the choice of their people, had no title to make laws, what will become of the ſtatute de tullagio non concedendo?—of the petition of right?—of the act of habeas corpus? Do theſe new doctors of the rights of men preſume to aſſert, that King James the Second, who came to the crown as next of blood, according to the rules of a then unqualified ſucceſſion, was not to all intents and purpoſes a lawful king of England, before he had [174] done any of thoſe acts which were juſtly conſtrued into an abdication of his crown? If he was not; much trouble in parliament might have been ſaved at the period theſe gentlemen commemorate. But King James was a bad king with a good title, and not an uſurper. The princes who ſucceeded according to the act of parliament which ſettled the crown on the electreſs Sophia and on her deſcendants, being pro⯑teſtants, came in as much by a title of inheritance as King James did. He came in according to the law, as it ſtood at his acceſſion to the crown; and the princes of the houſe of Brunſwick came to the in⯑heritance of the crown, not by election, but by the law, as it ſtood at their ſeveral acceſſions of proteſtant deſcent and inheritance, as I hope I have ſhewn ſuf⯑ficiently.

The law by which this royal family is ſpecifically deſtined to the ſucceſſion, is the act of the 12th and 13th of King William. The terms of this act bind ‘"us and our heirs, and our poſterity, to them, their heirs, and their poſterity,"’ the declaration of right had bound us to the heirs of King William and Queen Mary. It therefore ſecures both an heredi⯑tary crown and an hereditary allegiance. On what ground, except the conſtitutional policy of forming an eſtabliſhment to ſecure that kind of ſucceſſion which is to preclude a choice of the people for ever, could the legiſlature have faſtidiouſly rejected the fair and abundant choice which our own country preſented to them, and ſearched in ſtrange lands for a foreign princeſs, from whoſe womb the line of our future rulers were to derive their title to govern millions of men through a ſeries of ages?

The Princeſs Sophia was named in the act of ſet⯑tlement of the 12th and 13th of King William, for a ſtock and root of inheritance to our kings, and not for her merits as a temporary adminiſtratrix of a power, which ſhe might not, and, in fact, did not, herſelf ever exerciſe. She was adopted for one reaſon, [175] and for one only, becauſe, ſays the act, ‘"the moſt excellent Princeſs Sophia, Electreſs and Dutcheſs Dowager of Hanover, is daughter of the moſt excellent Princeſs Elizabeth, late Queen of Bohe⯑mia, daughter of our late ſovereign lord King James the Firſt, of happy memory, and is hereby de⯑clared to be the next in ſucceſſion in the Proteſtant line," &c. &c.; "and the crown ſhall continue to the heirs of her body, being Proteſtants."’ This limitation was made by parliament, that through the Princeſs Sophia an inheritable line, not only was to be continued in future, but (what they thought very material) that through her it was to be connected with the old ſtock of inheritance in King James the Firſt; in order that the monarchy might preſerve an unbroken unity through all ages, and might be pre⯑ſerved (with ſafety to our religion) in the old ap⯑proved mode by deſcent, in which, if our liberties had been once endangered, they had often, through all ſtorms and ſtruggles of prerogative and privilege, been preſerved. They did well. No experience hrs taught us, that in any other courſe or method than that of an hereditary crown, our liberties can be regularly perpetuated and preſerved ſacred as our hereditary right. An irregular, convulſive movement may be neceſſary to throw off an irregular, convul⯑ſive diſeaſe. But the courſe of ſucceſſion is the healthy habit of the Britiſh conſtitution. Was it that the legiſlature wanted, at the act for the limita⯑tion of the crown in the Hanoverian line, drawn through the female deſcendants of James the Firſt, a due ſenſe of the inconveniencies of having two or three, or poſſibly more, foreigners in ſucceſſion to the Britiſh throne? No!—they had a due ſenſe of the evils which might happen from ſuch foreign rule, and more than a due ſenſe of them. But a more deciſive proof cannot be given of the full conviction of the Britiſh nation, that the principles of the revolution did not authorize them to elect kings at their pleaſure, and without any attention to the antient fundamental [176] principles of our government, than their continuing to adopt a plan of hereditary Proteſtant ſucceſſion in the old line, with all the dangers and all the inconve⯑niencies of its being a foreign line full before their eyes, and operating with the utmoſt force upon their minds.—Reflections on the Revolution in France.

KINGS Ought to bear the Freedom of Subjects that are obnoxious to them.

KINGS, even ſuch as are truly kings, may and ought to bear the freedom of ſubjects that are ob⯑noxious to them. They may too, without derogating from themſelves, bear even the authority of ſuch per⯑ſons if it promotes their ſervice. Louis the XIIIth mortally hated the cardinal de Richlieu; but his ſup⯑port of that miniſter againſt his rivals was the ſource of all the glory of his reign, and the ſolid foundation of his throne itſelf. Louis the XIVth, when come to the throne, did not love the cardinal Mazarin; but for his intereſts he preſerved him in power. When old, he deteſted Louvois; but for years, whilſt he faithfully ſerved his greatneſs, he endured his perſon. When George II. took Mr. Pitt, who certainly was not agree⯑able to him, into his councils, he did nothing which could humble a wiſe ſovereign. But theſe miniſters, who were choſen by affairs, not by affections, acted in the name of, and in truſt for, kings; and not as their avowed, conſtitutional, and oſtenſible maſters.—Ibid.

LAWS.

LAWS are commanded to hold their tongues amongſt arms; and tribunals fall to the ground with the peace they are no longer able to uphold.—Ibid.