As the Revolution gradually unfolded its terrific scenes, his overwrought imagination. began to see the remotest empires in danger and all the thrones of Europe tottering. Every distant muttering of the revolutionary storm made him tremble. Every man from France, not an emigrant, became in his estimation an apostle and emissary of sedition; and every friend to a correction of abuses at home, a revolutionist. His mistake was not in overrating the horrors of the French Revolution,-for that was hardly possible,--but in imagining the contagion of that example more potent than it really was. Most of the states of Europe, as he would have been the first to discern had he calmly exercised his judgment, were so inured to despotism and wrapped in so profound an ignorance, that revolutions were not to be expected for a long term of years. The preparatory process through which a benighted people must pass previous to any national revolution of opinion, is not the work of a day; and until that be accomplished, partial, transient, and easily suppressed ebullitions of popular passion are all that will disturb the slumbers of despotism. If there is any one truth more plainly inscribed on the page of history than another, it is this:-That before a general revolution can be effected, (whether beneficial or prejudicial is not to the present purpose,) the mass of the people must be subjected to a long course of preparation. This had been done in France by the combined efforts of her philosophers and literati, who, unhappily for her interests and for those of mankind, were as utterly destitute of religion as they were visionary in their politics; but how many years had they been about their task?. In England there was still less probability of any mad imitation of France, than even among nations still groaning under the yoke of absolute monarchy. It is true England was more enlightened, but it was already free; if it knew what were the essentials of liberty, it at the same time enjoyed them. All the main pillars of the British constitution still stood in unimpaired majesty; the sources of national strength, whether springing from a consciousness of the benefits the constitution conferred or from the scarcely less potent charm of habit and associations, were still uncorrupted. Even those who most ardently advocated the unsparing correction of its abuses had little sympathy with the extensive innovations. which were going on in France, and would have trembled at the idea of laying irreverent hands on the ark of the constitution. As to those who did wish for such changes; who would have cut down the ancient and stately growth of centuries, and after ploughing up the soil, would have transplanted into the scene of desolation the feeble and sickly shoots of France, they were not only few in number and contemptible in influence, but Mr. Burke most strenuously contended that they were so. In a well known and most beautiful passage in the "Reflections," he has thus described them: "The vanity, restlessness, petulance, and spirit of intrigue, of several petty cabals, who attempt to hide their total want of consequence in bustle, and noise, and puffing, and mutual quotation of each other, makes you imagine that our contemptuous neglect of their abilities is a general mark of acquiescence in their opinions. No such thing, I assure you. Because half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the field ring with their importunate chink, whilst thousands of great cattle, reposed beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the noise are the only inhabitants of the field; that, of course, they are many in number; or that, after all, they are other than the little, shrivelled, meagre, hopping, though loud and troublesome, insects of the hour." Thus he is guilty of the inconsistency of at once despising and dreading them, of proving them to be insignificant and of representing them as formidable. We are far from denying, indeed, that the times were perilous, or that the example of a state so close to us was to be overlooked. But the sure preventive against infection was to fumigate our own houses; the remedy was at home; it was to be found in a government which should combine judicious firmness with an equally judicious lenity, and which, while maintaining with a rigorous arm all the rights of government, should busy itself in the correction of every abuse and in the removal of every grievance. This would have been a far greater security for internal peace than preaching a magnificent crusade against the Revolutionists. Mr. Burke's strongest exhortations moreover were addressed to the nation just when there was the least occasion for them; we mean, at the time he wrote his "Letters on a Regicide Peace." At that period little was required to effect the ruin of the Revolutionists, except to leave them alone, and to repel any actual aggression on their part. The very horror their wickedness inspired, was fast administering an antidote to the deceitful philtres with which it had first provoked the love of its votaries. Whatever mad passions might still agitate the bosoms of the actors, the spectators turned away with disgust and loathing. They were the drunken Helots dancing before the Spartans. Again, it may be safely affirmed that the demand for war was unwise in this respect, that such a combination of European powers as Mr. Burke advocated was just the most likely expedient for keeping up the spirit of revolution. We are not now arguing the right and justice of interfering if the nation chose, (few, perhaps, at this period, would maintain its absolute necessity,) but simply its inexpediency. Viewed in this light, war was most inauspicious, and we verily believe was the only thing which prolonged the days of the republic. It is well known, that if there is any thing that can check the internal convulsions of a state, it is the necessity of repelling a foreign foe; just as the prospect of a sudden and overwhelming calamity will sometimes make decrepitude throw away its crutches, and appease for a moment the tortures of the most agonizing disease. This was precisely the effect of the combination of Europe against France; it checked the natural progress of dissolution, and called back the already fainting powers of life. It operated like a galvanic shock on the stiffening muscles of the expiring body of Regicide, and made it start into momentary but terrific energy. Had it not been for this stimulus, in all probability the spirit of France would have sunk much sooner, in very weariness and exhaustion. It was the assaults of foreign nations that provoked into tremendous action all the powerful feelings of national pride, and inspired France at that moment of wild and preternatural excitement with a superhuman energy. The dragon's teeth of the Revolution (to borrow an illustration from the fable of Cadmus) had sprung up armed men who were destroying one another. Foreign nations attacked them, and thus turned on another foe the very weapons which would have been buried in their own bowels. On the supposition, indeed, that the war was absolutely necessary, just, and expedient, the scheme Burke proposed was not only more magnificent, but more truly wise, than that of the minister. It was worthy of Burke's capacious mind; if he erred, it was at least no paltry error. He would have had all Europe embattled against the Revolutionists, and, marching into France with irresistible force, have blotted out, if possible, the very name of the republic from under heaven. With such sentiments, it is not to be wondered at that he should often have complained of the feeble and hesitating manner in which the war was conducted, and of the little jealousies of the allies in the former part of the struggle, with intense bitterness. Mr. Pitt's conduct, indeed, can only be accounted for on the supposition, that he was most decidedly averse from the war, (as it is well known he was,) and yet knew not how to withstand the powerful influence of a certain party. Placed between two conflicting forces, the result was, as usual, a deflection from both the lines of consistent, uniform policy. It was at one moment war, but war so feebly and languidly carried on that it seemed to invite defeat; it was now peace, but peace as disgraceful in its character as it was uncertain in its duration. It had been well for this country had Mr. Pitt listened to his better genius; pursued peace, but without any ignominious humiliations to obtain it; contented himself with repelling actual aggression; bent his whole energies to the support of government at home; and left the French Revolution-as must have been the case-to expire in its own ashes. The literary merits of the several pieces which Mr. Burke published on French affairs, of course vary. Some of them however, as mere compositions, will more than sustain comparison with any of his previous writings, and will be counted the choicest productions of his immortal genius. The "Reflections on the French Revolution," there can scarcely be a doubt, will be regarded through all time as the fullest exhibition of Burke's transcendent genius; nor is there any fear lest this work (as is so often the case with works which originate with the events of a particular period) should be neglected by remote ages. His mind, it has been already observed, could ennoble even the meanest theme, and give to the most fugitive topics an enduring interest. In this work all these peculiarities are exhibited in the most striking manner. The "Reflections" abound with matter which, though suggested by the events which were at the moment transpiring in France, is of universal application. It is full of profound political wisdom. Its other merits are of a correspondent character. In no work does his imagination shine out with more surpassing lustre. His illustrations are poured forth with a prodigality unusual even in him, from every department of science and from every scene of common life. Indeed, all the powers of his mind seem to have concentred themselves in their fullest force for the production of this work. The "Preface to Brissot's Address" presents us with a delightful specimen of clear, perspicuous narration. It was designed to show that the Revolutionists could not check themselves in their wild career; each successful faction being characterized by greater violence. The "Letter to the Member of the National Assembly," addressed to the same person as the "Reflections," is not unworthy of comparison with the former work, and in some parts almost transcends it. The description of Rousseau, of the French philosophy generally, and the remarks on Education, are scarcely equalled, and certainly not surpassed, by any thing in the "Reflections." The "Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs" was his next production. Of its political character we have already spoken. It is written in the third person, and, considering all the circumstances, is remarkably calm and temperate in its tone. The story of Diogenes. banished from Sinope, with which it commences, is most felicitously applied, and the passage already quoted, in which he justifies his own consistency, is full of force and splendour. As a whole, however, it is decidedly inferior to the pieces already mentioned. The "Thoughts on French Affairs," the "Considerations," and the pamphlet " On the Conduct of the Allies," are all occupied in one way or other with the war. The first was to prove that war was inevitable, and that France of itself would never alter; the second, to show on what principles the war should be conducted, namely, by a grand confederacy of all Europe; the third, to expose the folly of the allies in hesitating to form such a confederacy, and in pursuing a war of detail instead of acting on some uniform scheme. Though they are of very inferior merit to the works previously published on the same theme, profound thought and beautiful illustrations will be found in many insulated passages. The “Letters on a Regicide Peace," as already intimated, were designed to animate the failing energies of the nation to a more vigorous prosecution of the war. They were written within a very short period of the author's death, and indeed are partly posthumous. They must have been composed with great rapidity. The effects of this rapidity, however, are only seen in occasional carelessness or inaccuracy, or excessive copiousness of diction. There is none of the mediocrity of thought and the dull expansion of commonplace topics which generally distinguish hasty composition. Their very defects are all of a splendid character, and they are, indeed, as full of beautiful illustration as the "Reflections." It was a remarkable feature in Burke's intellectual history, that those qualities of mind which are generally supposed to be (and generally are) almost extinguished by age, existed in him at that period of life in as much activity as ever. The worn and decaying trunk still put forth, at top, as green and luxuriant a foliage as in the days of its vigour. Nay, it is remarkable that his later works, owing to the intense emotions which their topics inspired, are characterized by a still more vivid imagination than those of an earlier date. His Odyssey possesses more fire than his Iliad. Of the remaining pieces of Burke included in this edition there is only one which requires specific notice. It is the "Abridgment of the History of England." It is but a fragment, and, as already remarked, was written at the early age of twenty-seven. Though evidently written with much haste, and at so early an age, it fully justifies the speculations in which we have indulged respecting the exact adaptation of his mind to the province of history; showing, as it does, an uncommon range of information and powers of reflection. Only the first few sheets-those which were actually printed by Dodsley *--had the advantage of the author's revision. The rest were supplied after his death from his papers. A copy of those sheets is in the British Museum. It is handsomely printed in 4to. |