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BURKE'S SPEECH
ON
CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA
By Edmond Burke
Edited With Introduction And Notes By Sidney Carleton Newsom
Teacher Of English, Manual Training High School Indianapolis, Indiana
PREFACE
The introduction to this edition of Burke's speech on Conciliation with
America is intended to supply the needs of those students who do not
have access to a well-stocked library, or who, for any reason,
are unable to do the collateral reading necessary for a complete
understanding of the text.
The sources from which information has been drawn in preparing this
edition are mentioned under "Bibliography." The editor wishes to
acknowledge indebtedness to many of the excellent older editions of
the speech, and also to Mr. A. P. Winston, of the Manual Training High
School, for valuable suggestions.
CONTENTS
POLITICAL SITUATION
EDMUND BURKE
BURKE AS A STATESMAN
BURKE IN LITERATURE
TOPICS FOR SPECIAL REPORTS
BIBLIOGRAPHY
SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA
NOTES
INDEX
INTRODUCTION
POLITICAL SITUATION
In 1651 originated the policy which caused the American Revolution.
That policy was one of taxation, indirect, it is true, but none the less
taxation. The first Navigation Act required that colonial exports should
be shipped to England in American or English vessels. This was followed
by a long series of acts, regulating and restricting the American trade.
Colonists were not allowed to exchange certain articles without
paying duties thereon, and custom houses were established and officers
appointed. Opposition to these proceedings was ineffectual; and in 1696,
in order to expedite the business of taxation, and to establish a better
method of ruling the colonies, a board was appointed, called the Lords
Commissioners for Trade and Plantations. The royal governors found
in this board ready sympathizers, and were not slow to report their
grievances, and to insist upon more stringent regulations for enforcing
obedience. Some of the retaliative measures employed were the suspension
of the writ of habeas corpus, the abridgment of the freedom of the press
and the prohibition of elections. But the colonists generally succeeded
in having their own way in the end, and were not wholly without
encouragement and sympathy in the English Parliament. It may be that
the war with France, which ended with the fall of Quebec, had much to do
with this rather generous treatment. The Americans, too, were favored by
the Whigs, who had been in power for more than seventy years. The policy
of this great party was not opposed to the sentiments and ideas of
political freedom that had grown up in the colonies; and, although more
than half of the Navigation Acts were passed by Whig governments, the
leaders had known how to wink at the violation of nearly all of them.
Immediately after the close of the French war, and after George III. had
ascended the throne of England, it was decided to enforce the Navigation
Acts rigidly. There was to be no more smuggling, and, to prevent this,
Writs of Assistance were issued. Armed with such authority, a servant of
the king might enter the home of any citizen, and make a thorough search
for smuggled goods. It is needless to say the measure was resisted
vigorously, and its reception by the colonists, and its effect upon
them, has been called the opening scene of the American Revolution. As a
matter of fact, this sudden change in the attitude of England toward the
colonies, marks the beginning of the policy of George III. which, had it
been successful, would have made him the ruler of an absolute instead
of a limited monarchy. He hated the Tories only less than the Whigs,
and when he bestowed a favor upon either, it was for the purpose of
weakening the other. The first task he set himself was that of crushing
the Whigs. Since the Revolution of 1688, they had dictated the policy of
the English government, and through wise leaders had become supreme
in authority. They were particularly obnoxious to him because of their
republican spirit, and he regarded their ascendency as a constant menace
to his kingly power. Fortune seemed to favor him in the dissensions
which arose. There grew up two factions in the Whig party. There were
old Whigs and new Whigs. George played one against the other, advanced
his favorites when opportunity offered, and in the end succeeded in
forming a ministry composed of his friends and obedient to his will.
With the ministry safely in hand, he turned his attention to the House
of Commons. The old Whigs had set an example, which George was shrewd
enough to follow. Walpole and Newcastle had succeeded in giving England
one of the most peaceful and prosperous governments within in the
previous history of the nation, but their methods were corrupt. With
much of the judgment, penetration and wise forbearance which marks a
statesman, Walpole's distinctive qualities of mind eminently fitted
him for political intrigue; Newcastle was still worse, and has the
distinction of being the premier under whose administration the revolt
against official corruption first received the support of the public.
For near a hundred years, the territorial distribution of seats in the
House had remained the same, while the centres of population had shifted
along with those of trade and new industries. Great towns were without
representation, while boroughs, such as Old Sarum, without a single
voter, still claimed, and had, a seat in Parliament. Such districts,
or "rotten boroughs," were owned and controlled by many of the great
landowners. Both Walpole and Newcastle resorted to the outright purchase
of these seats, and when the time came George did not shrink from doing
the same thing. He went even further. All preferments of whatsoever sort
were bestowed upon those who would do his bidding, and the business
of bribery assumed such proportions that an office was opened at the
Treasury for this purpose, from which twenty-five thousand pounds are
said to have passed in a single day. Parliament had been for a long
time only partially representative of the people; it now ceased to be so
almost completely.
With, the support which such methods secured, along with encouragement
from his ministers, the king was prepared to put in operation his policy
for regulating the affairs of America. Writs of Assistance (1761) were
followed by the passage of the Stamp Act (1765). The ostensible object
of both these measures was to help pay the debt incurred by the French
war, but the real purpose lay deeper, and was nothing more or less than
the ultimate extension of parliamentary rule, in great things as well as
small, to America. At this crisis, so momentous for the colonists, the
Rockingham ministry was formed, and Burke, together with Pitt, supported
a motion for the unconditional repeal of the Stamp Act. After much
wrangling, the motion was carried, and the first blunder of the mother
country seemed to have been smoothed over.
Only a few months elapsed, however, when the question of taxing the
colonies was revived. Pitt lay ill, and could take no part in the
proposed measure. Through the influence of other members of his
party,--notably Townshend,--a series of acts were passed, imposing
duties on several exports to America. This was followed by a suspension
of the New York Assembly, because it had disregarded instructions in the
matter of supplies for the troops. The colonists were furious. Matters
went from bad to worse. To withdraw as far as possible without yielding
the principle at stake, the duties on all the exports mentioned in
the bill were removed, except that on tea. But it was precisely the
principle for which the colonists were contending. They were not in the
humor for compromise, when they believed their freedom was endangered,
and the strength and determination of their resistance found a climax in
the Boston Tea Party.
In the meantime, Lord North, who was absolutely obedient to the king,
had become prime minister. Five bills were prepared, the tenor of which,
it was thought, would overawe the colonists. Of these, the Boston Port
Bill and the Regulating Act are perhaps the most famous, though the
ultimate tendency of all was blindly coercive.
While the king and his friends were busy with these, the opposition
proposed an unconditional repeal of the Tea Act. The bill was introduced
only to be overwhelmingly defeated by the same Parliament that passed
the five measures of Lord North.
In America, the effect of these proceedings was such as might have been
expected by thinking men. The colonies were as a unit in their support
of Massachusetts. The Regulating Act was set at defiance, public
officers in the king's service were forced to resign, town meetings
were held, and preparations for war were begun in dead earnest. To avert
this, some of England's greatest statesmen--Pitt among the number--asked
for a reconsideration. On February the first, 1775, a bill was
introduced, which would have gone far toward bringing peace. One month
later, Burke delivered his speech on Conciliation with the Colonies.
EDMUND BURKE
There is nothing unusual in Burke's early life. He was born in Dublin,
Ireland, in 1729. His father was a successful lawyer and a Protestant,
his mother, a Catholic. At the age of twelve, he became a pupil of
Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker, who had been teaching some fifteen years
at Ballitore, a small town thirty miles from Dublin. In after years
Burke was always pleased to speak of his old friend in the kindest way:
"If I am anything," he declares, "it is the education I had there that
has made me so." And again at Shackleton's death, when Burke was near
the zenith of his fame and popularity, he writes: "I had a true
honor and affection for that excellent man. I feel something like a
satisfaction in the midst of my concern, that I was fortunate enough to
have him under my roof before his departure." It can hardly be doubted
that the old Quaker schoolmaster succeeded with his pupil who was
already so favorably inclined, and it is more than probable that the
daily example of one who lived out his precepts was strong in its
influence upon a young and generous mind.
Burke attended school at Ballitore two years; then, at the age of
fourteen, he became a student at Trinity College, Dublin, and remained
there five years. At college he was unsystematic and careless of
routine. He seems to have done pretty much as he pleased, and, however
methodical he became in after life, his study during these five years
was rambling and spasmodic. The only definite knowledge we have of this
period is given by Burke himself in letters to his former friend Richard
Shackleton, son of his old schoolmaster. What he did was done with a
zest that at times became a feverish impatience: "First I was greatly
taken with natural philosophy, which, while I should have given my mind
to logic, employed me incessantly. This I call my FUROR MATHEMATICUS."
Following in succession come his FUROR LOGICUS, FUROR HISTORICUS, and
FUROR PEOTICUS, each of which absorbed him for the time being. It would
be wrong, however, to think of Burke as a trifler even in his youth. He
read in the library three hours every day and we may be sure he read as
intelligently as eagerly. It is more than probable that like a few other
great minds he did not need a rigid system to guide him. If he chose
his subjects of study at pleasure, there is every reason to believe he
mastered them.
Of intimate friends at the University we hear nothing. Goldsmith came
one year later, but there is no evidence that they knew each other. It
is probable that Burke, always reserved, had little in common with his
young associates. His own musings, with occasional attempts at writing
poetry, long walks through the country, and frequent letters to and from
Richard Shackleton, employed him when not at his books.
Two years after taking his degree, Burke went to London and established
himself at the Middle Temple for the usual routine course in law.
Another long period passes of which there is next to nothing known.
His father, an irascible, hot-tempered man, had wished him to begin the
practice of law, but Burke seems to have continued in a rather irregular
way pretty much as when an undergraduate at Dublin. His inclinations
were not toward the law, but literature. His father, angered at such a
turn of affairs, promptly reduced his allowance and left him to follow
his natural bent in perfect freedom. In 1756, six years after his
arrival in London, and almost immediately following the rupture with his
father, he married a Miss Nugent. At about the same time he published
his first two books, [Footnote: A Vindication of Natural Society and
Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and
Beautiful] and began in earnest the life of an author.
He attracted the attention of literary men. Dr. Johnson had just
completed his famous dictionary, and was the centre of a group of
writers who accepted him at his own valuation. Burke did not want for
company, and wrote copiously.[Footnote: Hints for an Essay on the
Drama. Abridgement of the History of England] He became associated with
Dodsley, a bookseller, who began publishing the Annual Register in 1759,
and was paid a hundred pounds a year for writing upon current events.
He spent two years (1761-63) in Ireland in the employment of William
Hamilton, but at the end of that time returned, chagrined and disgusted
with his would-be patron, who utterly failed to recognize Burke's worth,
and persisted in the most unreasonable demands upon his time and energy.
For once Burke's independence served him well. In 1765 Lord Rockingham
became prime minister, and Burke, widely known as the chief writer
for the Annual Register, was free to accept the position of private
secretary, which Lord Rockingham was glad to offer him. His services
here were invaluable. The new relations thus established did not end
with the performance of the immediate duties of his office, but a warm
friendship grew up between the two, which lasted till the death of Lord
Rockingham. While yet private secretary, Burke was elected to Parliament
from the borough of Wendover. It was through the influence of his
friend, or perhaps relative, William Burke, that his election was
secured.
Only a few days after taking his seat in the House of Commons, Burke
made his first speech, January 27, 1766. He followed this in a very
short time with another upon the same subject--the Taxation of the
American Colonies. Notwithstanding the great honor and distinction which
these first speeches brought Burke, his party was dismissed at the close
of the session and the Chatham ministry formed. He remained with his
friends, and employed himself in refuting [Footnote: Observations on the
Present State of the Nation] the charges of the former minister, George
Grenville, who wrote a pamphlet accusing his successors of gross neglect
of public duties.
At this point in his life comes the much-discussed matter of
Beaconsfield. How Burke became rich enough to purchase such expensive
property is a question that has never been answered by his friends or
enemies. There are mysterious hints of successful speculation in East
India stock, of money borrowed, and Burke himself, in a letter to
Shackleton, speaks of aid from his friends and "all [the money] he
could collect of his own." However much we may regret the air of mystery
surrounding the matter, and the opportunity given those ever ready to
smirch a great man's character, it is not probable that any one ever
really doubted Burke's integrity in this or any other transaction.
Perhaps the true explanation of his seemingly reckless extravagance (if
any explanation is needed) is that the conventional standards of his
time forced it upon him; and it may be that Burke himself sympathized
to some extent with these standards, and felt a certain satisfaction in
maintaining a proper attitude before the public.
The celebrated case of Wilkes offered an opportunity for discussing
the narrow and corrupt policy pursued by George III. and his followers.
Wilkes, outlawed for libel and protected in the meantime through legal
technicalities, was returned to Parliament by Middlesex. The House
expelled him. He was repeatedly elected and as many times expelled, and
finally the returns were altered, the House voting its approval by a
large majority. In 1770 Burke published his pamphlet [Footnote: Present
Discontents] in which he discussed the situation. For the first time he
showed the full sweep and breadth of his understanding. His tract was
in the interest of his party, but it was written in a spirit far removed
from narrow partisanship. He pointed out with absolute clearness the
cause of dissatisfaction and unrest among the people and charged George
III. and his councillors with gross indifference to the welfare of the
nation and corresponding devotion to selfish interests. He contended
that Parliament was usurping privileges when it presumed to expel any
one, that the people had a right to send whomsoever they pleased to
Parliament, and finally that "in all disputes between them and their
rulers, the presumption was at least upon a par in favor of the
people." From this time until the American Revolution, Burke used every
opportunity to denounce the policy which the king was pursuing at home
and abroad. He doubtless knew beforehand that what he might say would
pass unnoticed, but he never faltered in a steadfast adherence to
his ideas of government, founded, as he believed, upon the soundest
principles. Bristol elected him as its representative in Parliament. It
was a great honor and Burke felt its significance, yet he did not flinch
when the time came for him to take a stand. He voted for the removal
of some of the restrictions upon Irish trade. His constituents,
representing one of the most prosperous mercantile districts, angered
and disappointed at what they held to be a betrayal of trust, refused to
reelect him.
Lord North's ministry came to an end in 1782, immediately after the
battle of Yorktown, and Lord Rockingham was chosen prime minister.
Burke's past services warranted him in expecting an important place in
the cabinet, but he was ignored. Various things have been suggested
as reasons for this: he was poor; some of his relations and intimate
associates were objectionable; there were dark hints of speculations; he
was an Irishman. It is possible that any one of these facts, or all of
them, furnished a good excuse for not giving him an important position
in the new government. But it seems more probable that Burke's abilities
were not appreciated so justly as they have been since. The men with
whom he associated saw some of his greatness but not all of it. He
was assigned the office of Paymaster of Forces, a place of secondary
importance.
Lord Rockingham died in three months and the party went to pieces. Burke
refused to work under Shelburne, and, with Fox, joined Lord North in
forming the coalition which overthrew the Whig party. Burke has been
severely censured for the part he took in this. Perhaps there is little
excuse for his desertion, and it is certainly true that his course
raises the question of his sincere devotion to principles. His personal
dislike of Shelburne was so intense that he may have yielded to his
feelings. He felt hurt, too, we may be sure, at the disposition made of
him by his friends. In replying to a letter asking him for a place
in the new government, he writes that his correspondent has been
misinformed. "I make no part of the ministerial arrangement," he writes,
and adds, "Something in the official line may be thought fit for my
measure."
As a supporter of the coalition, Burke was one of the framers of
the India Bill. This was directed against the wholesale robbery and
corruption which the East India Company had been guilty of in its
government of the country. Both Fox and Burke defended the measure with
all the force and power which a thorough mastery of facts, a keen sense
of the injustice done an unhappy people, and a splendid rhetoric
can give. But it was doomed from the first. The people at large were
indifferent, many had profitable business relations with the company,
and the king used his personal influence against it. The bill failed to
pass, the coalition was dismissed, and the party, which had in Burke its
greatest representative, was utterly ruined.
The failure of the India Bill marked a victory for the king, and it
also prepared the way for one of the most famous transactions of Burke's
life. Macaulay has told how impressive and magnificent was the scene
at the trial of Warren Hastings. There were political reasons for the
impeachment, but the chief motive that stirred Burke was far removed
from this. He saw and understood the real state of affairs in India. The
mismanagement, the brutal methods, and the crimes committed there in the
name of the English government, moved him profoundly, and when he rose
before the magnificent audience at Westminster, for opening the cause,
he forced his hearers, by his own mighty passion, to see with his own
eyes, and to feel his own righteous anger. "When he came to his two
narratives," says Miss Burney, "when he related the particulars of those
dreadful murders, he interested, he engaged, he at last overpowered me;
I felt my cause lost. I could hardly keep my seat. My eyes dreaded a
single glance toward a man so accused as Mr. Hastings; I wanted to sink
on the floor, that they might be saved so painful a sight. I had no hope
he could clear himself; not another wish in his favor remained." The
trial lasted for six years and ended with the acquittal of Hastings. The
result was not a surprise, and least of all to Burke. The fate of the
India Bill had taught him how completely indifferent the popular mind
was to issues touching deep moral questions. Though a seeming failure,
he regarded the impeachment as the greatest work of his life. It did
much to arouse and stimulate the national sense of justice. It
made clear the cruel methods sometimes pursued under the guise of
civilization and progress. The moral victory is claimed for Burke, and
without a doubt the claim is valid.
The second of the great social and political problems, which employed
English statesmen in the last half of the eighteenth century, was
settled in the impeachment of Warren Hastings. The affairs of America
and India were now overshadowed by the French Revolution, and Burke,
with the far-sighted vision of a veteran statesman, watched the progress
of events and their influence upon the established order. In 1773 he had
visited France, and had returned displeased. It is remarkable with what
accuracy he pointed out the ultimate tendency of much that he saw. A
close observer of current phases of society, and on the alert to explain
them in the light of broad and fundamental principles of human progress,
he had every opportunity for studying social life at the French capital.
Unlike the younger men of his times, he was doubtful, and held his
judgment in suspense. The enthusiasm of even Fox seemed premature, and
he held himself aloof from the popular demonstrations of admiration and
approval that were everywhere going on. The fact is, Burke was growing
old, and with his years he was becoming more conservative. He dreaded
change, and was suspicious of the wisdom of those who set about such
widespread innovations, and made such brilliant promises for the future.
But the time rapidly approached for him to declare himself, and in 1790
his Reflections on the Revolution in France was issued. His friends
had long waited its appearance, and were not wholly surprised at the
position taken. What did surprise them was the eagerness with which the
people seized upon the book, and its effect upon them. The Tories, with
the king, applauded long and loud; the Whigs were disappointed, for
Burke condemned the Revolution unreservedly, and with a bitterness
out of all proportion to the cause of his anxiety and fear. As the
Revolution progressed, he grew fiercer in his denunciation. He broke
with his lifelong associates, and declared that no one who sympathized
with the work of the Assembly could be his friend. His other writings
on the Revolution [Footnote: Letter to a Member of the National Assembly
and Letters on a Regicide Peace.] were in a still more violent strain,
and it is hard to think of them as coming from the author of the Speech
on Conciliation.
Three years before his death, at the conclusion of the trial of Warren
Hastings, Burke's last term in Parliament expired. He did not wish
office again and withdrew to his estate. Through the influence of
friends, and because of his eminent services, it was proposed to make
him peer, with the title of Lord Beacons field. But the death of his son
prevented, and a pension of twenty-five hundred pounds a year was given
instead. It was a signal for his enemies, and during his last days he
was busy with his reply. The "Letter to a Noble Lord," though written
little more than a year before his death, is considered one of the most
perfect of his papers. Saddened by the loss of his son, and broken in
spirits, there is yet left him enough old-time energy and fire to answer
his detractors. But his wonderful career was near its close. His last
months were spent in writing about the French Revolution, and the third
letter on a Regicide Peace--a fragment--was doubtless composed just
before his death. On the 9th of July, 1797, he passed away. His friends
claimed for him a place in Westminster, but his last wish was respected,
and he was buried at Beaconsfield.
BURKE AS A STATESMAN
There is hardly a political tract or pamphlet of Burke's in which he
does not state, in terms more or less clear, the fundamental principle
in his theory of government. "Circumstances," he says in one place,
"give, in reality, to every political principle, its distinguishing
color and discriminating effect. The circumstances are what renders
every civil and political scheme beneficial or obnoxious to mankind." At
another time he exclaims: "This is the true touchstone of all theories
which regard man and the affairs of men; does it suit his nature in
general, does it suit his nature as modified by his habits?" And again
he extends his system to affairs outside the realm of politics. "All
government," he declares, "indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment,
every virtue and every prudent act, is founded on compromise and
barter."
It is clear that Burke thought the State existed for the people, and not
the people for the State. The doctrine is old to us, but it was not
so in Burke's time, and it required courage to expound it. The great
parties had forgotten the reason for their existence, and one of them
had become hardened and blinded by that corruption which seems to follow
long tenure of office. The affairs of India, Ireland, and America gave
excellent opportunity for an exhibition of English statesmanship, but in
each case the policy pursued was dictated, not by a clear perception
of what was needed in these countries, but by narrow selfishness, not
unmixed with dogmatism of the most challenging sort. The situation in
India, as regards climate, character, and institutions, counted for
little in the minds of those who were growing rich as agents of the East
India Company. Much the same may be said of America and Ireland. The
sense of Parliament, influenced by the king, was to use these parts
of the British Empire in raising a revenue, and in strengthening party
organization at home. In opposing this policy, Burke lost his seat
as representative for Bristol, then the second city of England; spent
fourteen of the best years of his life in conducting the impeachment
of Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India; and, greatest of all,
delivered his famous speeches on Taxation and Conciliation, in behalf of
the American colonists.
Notwithstanding the distinctly modern tone of Burke's ideas, it would
be wrong to think of him as a thoroughgoing reformer. He has been called
the Great Conservative, and the title is appropriate. He would have
shrunk from a purely republican form of government, such as our own,
and it is, perhaps, a fact that he was suspicious of a government by the
people. The trouble, as he saw it, lay with the representatives of the
people. Upon them, as guardians of a trust, rested the responsibility
of protecting those whom they were chosen to serve. While he bitterly
opposed any measures involving radical change in the Constitution, he
was no less ardent in denouncing political corruptions of all kinds
whatsoever. In his Economical Reform he sought to curtail the enormous
extravagance of the royal household, and to withdraw the means of
wholesale bribery, which offices at the disposal of the king created.
He did not believe that a more effective means than this lay in the
proposed plan for a redistribution of seats in the House of Commons. In
one place, he declared it might be well to lessen the number of voters,
in order to add to their weight and independence; at another, he asks
that the people be stimulated to a more careful scrutiny of the conduct
of their representatives; and on every occasion he demands that the
legislators give their support to those measures only which have for
their object the good of the whole people.
It is obvious, however, that Burke's policy had grievous faults. His
reverence for the past, and his respect for existing institutions as the
heritage of the past, made him timid and overcautious in dealing with
abuses. Although he stood with Pitt in defending the American colonies,
he had no confidence in the thoroughgoing reforms which the great
Commoner proposed. When the Stamp Act was repealed, Pitt would have
gone even further. He would have acknowledged the absolute injustice of
taxation without representation. Burke held tenaciously to the opposing
theory, and warmly supported the Declaratory Act, which "asserted
the supreme authority of Parliament over the colonies, in all cases
whatsoever." His support of the bill for the repeal of the Stamp Act, as
well as his plea for reconciliation, ten years later, were not prompted
by a firm belief in the injustice of England's course. He expressly
states, in both cases that to enforce measures so repugnant to the
Americans, would be detrimental to the home government. It would result
in confusion and disorder, and would bring, perhaps, in the end, open
rebellion. All of his speeches on American affairs show his willingness
to "barter and compromise" in order to avoid this, but nowhere is there
a hint of fundamental error in the Constitution. This was sacred to him,
and he resented to the last any proposition looking to an organic change
in its structure. "The lines of morality," he declared, "are not like
ideal lines of mathematics. They are broad and deep, as well as long.
They admit of exceptions; they demand modifications. These exceptions
and modifications are made, not by the process of logic, but the rules
of prudence. Prudence is not only first in rank of all the virtues,
political and moral, but she is the director, the regulator, the
standard of them all."
The chief characteristics, then, of Burke's political philosophy are
opposed to much that is fundamental in modern systems. His doctrine is
better than that of George III, because it is more generous, and affords
opportunity for superficial readjustment and adaptation. It is this
last, or rather the proof it gives of his insight, that has secured
Burke so high a place among English statesmen.
A GROUP OF WRITERS COMING IMMEDIATELY BEFORE BURKE
Addison. . . . 1672-1719
Steele . . . . 1672-1729
Defoe. . . . . 1661-1731
Swift. . . . . 1667-1745
Pope . . . . . 1688-1744
Richardson . . 1689-1761
A GROUP OF WRITERS CONTEMPORARY WITH BURKE
Johnson . . . . 1709-1784
Goldsmith . . . 1728-1774
Fielding. . . . 1707-1754
Sterne. . . . . 1713-1768
Smollett. . . . 1721-1771
Gray. . . . . . 1716-1771
Boswell . . . . 1740-1795
BURKE IN LITERATURE
It has become almost trite to speak of the breadth of Burke's
sympathies. We should examine the statement, however, and understand its
significance and see its justice. While he must always be regarded first
as a statesman of one of the highest types, he had other interests than
those directly suggested by his office, and in one of these, at least,
he affords an interesting and profitable study.
To the student of literature Burke's name must always suggest that of
Johnson and Goldsmith. It was eight years after Burke's first appearance
as an author, that the famous Literary Club was formed. At first it was
the intention to limit the club to a membership of nine, and for a
time this was adhered to. The original members were Johnson, Burke,
Goldsmith, Reynolds, and Hawkins. Garrick, Pox, and Boswell came in
later. Macaulay declares that the influence of the club was so great
that its verdict made and unmade reputations; but the thing most
interesting to us does not lie in the consideration of such literary
dictatorship. To Boswell we owe a biography of Johnson which has
immortalized its subject, and shed lustre upon all associated with him.
The literary history of the last third of the eighteenth century, with
Johnson as a central figure, is told nowhere else with such accuracy, or
with better effect.
Although a Tory, Johnson was a great one, and his lasting friendship for
Burke is an enduring evidence of his generosity and great-mindedness.
For twenty years, and longer, they were eminent men in opposing parties,
yet their mutual respect and admiration continued to the last. To Burke,
Johnson was a writer of "eminent literary merit" and entitled to a
pension "solely on that account." To Johnson, Burke was the greatest
man of his age, wrong politically, to be sure, yet the only one "whose
common conversation corresponded to the general fame which he had in
the world"--the only one "who was ready, whatever subject was chosen, to
meet you on your own ground." Here and there in the Life are allusions
to Burke, and admirable estimates of his many-sided character.
Coming directly to an estimate of Burke from the purely literary point
of view, it must be borne in mind that the greater part of his writings
was prepared for an audience. Like Macaulay, his prevailing style
suggests the speaker, and his methods throughout are suited to
declamation and oratory. He lacks the ease and delicacy that we are
accustomed to look for in the best prose writers, and occasionally one
feels the justice of Johnson's stricture, that "he sometimes talked
partly from ostentation", or of Hazlitt's criticism that he seemed to be
"perpetually calling the speaker out to dance a minuet with him before
he begins."
There may be passages here and there that warrant such censure. Burke is
certainly ornate, and at times he is extremely self-conscious, but the
dominant quality of his style, and the one which forever contradicts
the idea of mere showiness, is passion. In his method of approaching a
subject, he may be, and perhaps is, rather tedious, but when once he
has come to the matter really in hand, he is no longer the rhetorician,
dealing in fine phrases, but the great seer, clothing his thoughts
in words suitable and becoming. The most magnificent passages in
his writings--the Conciliation is rich in them--owe their charm and
effectiveness to this emotional capacity. They were evidently written
in moments of absolute abandonment to feeling--in moments when he was
absorbed in the contemplation of some great truth, made luminous by his
own unrivalled powers.
Closely allied to this intensity of passion, is a splendid imaginative
quality. Few writers of English prose have such command of figurative
expression. It must be said, however, that Burke was not entirely free
from the faults which generally accompany an excessive use of figures.
Like other great masters of a decorative style, he frequently becomes
pompous and grandiloquent. His thought, too, is obscured, where we
would expect great clearness of statement, accompanied by a dignified
simplicity; and occasionally we feel that he forgets his subject in an
anxious effort to make an impression. Though there are passages in his
writings that justify such observations, they are few in number, when
compared with those which are really masterpieces of their kind.
Some great crisis, or threatening state of affairs, seems to furnish the
necessary condition for the exercise of a great mind, and Burke is never
so effective as when thoroughly aroused. His imagination needed the
chastening which only a great moment or critical situation could give.
Two of his greatest speeches--Conciliation, and Impeachment of
Warren Hastings--were delivered under the restraining effect of such
circumstances, and in each the figurative expression is subdued and not
less beautiful in itself than, appropriate for the occasion.
Finally, it must be observed that no other writer of English prose has a
better command of words. His ideas, as multifarious as they are, always
find fitting expression. He does not grope for a term; it stands ready
for his thought, and one feels that he had opportunity for choice. It
is the exuberance of his fancy, already mentioned, coupled with this
richness of vocabulary, that helped to make Burke a tiresome speaker.
His mind was too comprehensive to allow any phase of his subject to pass
without illumination. He followed where his subject led him, without any
great attention to the patience of his audience. But he receives full
credit when his speeches are read. It is then that his mastery of
the subject and the splendid qualities of his style are apparent, and
appreciated at their worth.
In conclusion, it is worth while observing that in the study of a
great character, joined with an attempt to estimate it by conventional
standards, something must always be left unsaid. Much may be learned of
Burke by knowing his record as a partisan, more by a minute inspection
of his style as a writer, but beyond all this is the moral tone or
attitude of the man himself. To a student of Burke this is the greatest
thing about him. It colored every line he wrote, and to it, more than
anything else, is due the immense force of the man as a speaker and
writer. It was this, more than Burke's great abilities, that justifies
Dr. Johnson's famous eulogy: "He is not only the first man in the House
of Commons, he is the first man everywhere."
A GROUP OF WRITERS COMING IMMEDIATELY AFTER BURKE
Wordsworth . . . . 1770-1850
Coleridge . . . . . 1772-1834
Byron . . . . . . . 1788-1824
Shelley . . . . . . 1792-1822
Keats . . . . . . . 1795-1821
Scott . . . . . . . 1771-1832
TOPICS FOR SPECIAL REPORTS
1. "Like Goldsmith, though in a different sphere, Burke belongs both to
the old order and the new." Discuss that statement.
2. Burke and the Literary Club. (Boswell's Life of Johnson.)
3. Lives of Burke and Goldsmith. Contrast.
4. An interpretation of ten apothegms selected from the Speech on
Conciliation.
5. A study of figures in the Speech on Conciliation.
6. A definition of the terms: "colloquialism" and "idiom" Instances of
their use in the Speech on Conciliation.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
1. Burke's Life. John Morley. English Men of Letters Series.
2. Burke. John Morley. An Historical Study.
3. Burke. John Morley. Encyclopaedia Britannica.
4. History of the English People. Green. Vol. IV., pp 193-271.
5 History of Civilization in England. Buckle. Vol I, pp. 326-338
6. The American Revolution. Fiske. Vol. I, Chaps. I., II.
7. Life of Johnson. Boswell. (Use the Index)
EDMUND BURKE
ON MOVING HIS RESOLUTIONS FOR CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES. HOUSE OF
COMMONS, MARCH 22, 1775
I hope, Sir, that notwithstanding the austerity of the Chair, your
good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence towards human
frailty. You will not think it unnatural that those who have an object
depending, which strongly engages their hopes and fears, should be
somewhat inclined to superstition. As I came into the House full of
anxiety about the event of my motion, I found, to my infinite surprise,
that the grand penal bill, [Footnote: 1] by which we had passed sentence
on the trade and sustenance of America, is to be returned to us from the
other House. I do confess I could not help looking on this event as a
fortunate omen. I look upon it as a sort of providential favor, by which
we are put once more in possession of our deliberative capacity upon a
business so very questionable in its nature, so very uncertain in its
issue. By the return of this bill, which seemed to have taken its flight
forever, we are at this very instant nearly as free to choose a plan for
our American Government as we were on the first day of the session.
If, Sir, we incline to the side of conciliation, we are not at all
embarrassed (unless we please to make ourselves so) by any incongruous
mixture of coercion and restraint. We are therefore called upon, as it
were by a superior warning voice, again to attend to America; to attend
to the whole of it together; and to review the subject with an unusual
degree of care and calmness.
Surely it is an awful subject, or there is none so on this side of the
grave. When I first had the honor [Footnote: 2] of a seat in this House,
the affairs of that continent pressed themselves upon us as the most
important and most delicate object of Parliamentary attention. My little
share in this great deliberation oppressed me. I found myself a partaker
in a very high trust; and, having no sort of reason to rely on the
strength of my natural abilities for the proper execution of that trust,
I was obliged to take more than common pains to instruct myself in
everything which relates to our Colonies. I was not less under the
necessity of forming some fixed ideas concerning the general policy of
the British Empire. Something of this sort seemed to be indispensable,
in order, amidst so vast a fluctuation of passions and opinions, to
concentre my thoughts, to ballast my conduct, to preserve me from being
blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine. I really did not
think it safe or manly to have fresh principles to seek upon every fresh
mail which should arrive from America.
At that period I had the fortune to find myself in perfect concurrence
with a large majority in this House. Bowing under that high authority,
and penetrated with the sharpness and strength of that early impression,
I have continued ever since, without the least deviation, in my
original sentiments. [Footnote: 3] Whether this be owing to an obstinate
perseverance in error, or to a religious adherence to what appears to me
truth, and reason, it is in your equity to judge.
Sir, Parliament having an enlarged view of objects, made, during this
interval, more frequent changes in their sentiments and their conduct
than could be justified in a particular person upon the contracted scale
of private information. But though I do not hazard anything approaching
to a censure on the motives of former Parliaments to all those
alterations, one fact is undoubted--that under them the state of
America has been kept in continual agitation. [Footnote: 4] Everything
administered as remedy to the public complaint, if it did not produce,
was at least followed by, an heightening of the distemper; until, by a
variety of experiments, that important country has been brought into her
present situation--a situation which I will not miscall, which I dare
not name, which I scarcely know how to comprehend in the terms of any
description.
In this posture, Sir, things stood at the beginning of the session.
About that time, a worthy member [Footnote: 5] of great Parliamentary
experience, who, in the year 1766, filled the chair of the American
committee with much ability, took me aside; and, lamenting the present
aspect of our politics, told me things were come to such a pass that
our former [Footnote: 6] methods of proceeding in the House would be
no longer tolerated: that the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a
long and unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct
with unusual severity: that the very vicissitudes and shiftings of
Ministerial measures, instead of convicting their authors of inconstancy
and want of system, would be taken as an occasion of charging us with a
predetermined discontent, which nothing could satisfy; whilst we accused
every measure of vigor as cruel, and every proposal of lenity as weak
and irresolute. The public, he said, would not have patience to see us
play the game out with our adversaries; we must produce our hand. It
would be expected that those who for many years had been active in such
affairs should show that they had formed some clear and decided idea
of the principles of Colony government; and were capable of drawing out
something like a platform of the ground which might be laid for future
and permanent tranquillity.
I felt the truth of what my honorable friend represented; but I felt
my situation too. His application might have been made with far greater
propriety to many other gentlemen. No man was indeed ever better
disposed, or worse qualified, for such an undertaking than myself.
Though I gave so far in to his opinion that I immediately threw my
thoughts into a sort of Parliamentary form, I was by no means equally
ready to produce them. It generally argues some degree of natural
impotence of mind, or some want of knowledge of the world, to hazard
plans of government except from a seat of authority. Propositions are
made, not only ineffectually, but somewhat disreputably, when the minds
of men are not properly disposed for their reception; and, for my part,
I am not ambitious of ridicule--not absolutely a candidate for disgrace.
Besides, Sir, to speak the plain truth, I have in general no very
exalted opinion of the virtue of paper government; [Footnote: 7] nor
of any politics in which the plan is to be wholly separated from the
execution. But when I saw that anger and violence prevailed every day
more and more, and that things were hastening towards an incurable
alienation of our Colonies, I confess my caution gave way. I felt this
as one of those few moments in which decorum yields to a higher duty.
Public calamity is a mighty leveller; and there are occasions when any,
even the slightest, chance of doing good must be laid hold on, even by
the most inconsiderable person.
To restore order and repose to an empire so great and so distracted as
ours, is, merely in the attempt, an undertaking that would ennoble the
flights of the highest genius, and obtain pardon for the efforts of the
meanest understanding. Struggling a good while with these thoughts, by
degrees I felt myself more firm. I derived, at length, some confidence
from what in other circumstances usually produces timidity. I grew less
anxious, even from the idea of my own insignificance. For, judging of
what you are by what you ought to be, I persuaded myself that you would
not reject a reasonable proposition because it had nothing but its
reason to recommend it. On the other hand, being totally destitute of
all shadow of influence, natural or adventitious, I was very sure that,
if my proposition were futile or dangerous--if it were weakly conceived,
or improperly timed--there was nothing exterior to it of power to awe,
dazzle, or delude you. You will see it just as it is; and you will treat
it just as it deserves.