doctrine as well as in temper, have been pointed out in this treatise; but these, since our design is not to criticise the work, we have no occasion to set forth at length. It must be admitted that Burke nowhere brings out, but rather labors to cover up, the fearful misgovernment which caused the Revolution in France, and occasioned, though it did not excuse, the crimes that accompanied it. All historical students now, who are not subject to a violent prejudice, understand how the turn which history had given to events in France, left the power of the feudal nobility to be absorbed in the King, instead of being divided, as in England, with the people; how the honors and advantages of society were engrossed by the privileged orders; how the government, wasting its treasure upon long, and frequently useless wars, and upon the shameless vices of the court, which recall the worst days of the later Roman Empire, had long been upon the verge of bankruptcy, notwithstanding delusive and fraudulent schemes for replenishing the public coffers; and how the body of the people were laden with burdens too grievous to be borne, while exposed to insults and injuries from the superior class, for which it was impossible to obtain redress.

We may lament that France could not stop with reforming her institutions, without proceeding to obliterate, in fire and blood, the old order of things; but the frightful excesses of the revolution were the natural result of accumulated disorders and wrongs. Burke allows, to be sure, the urgent need of some change in the political system of France, but fails to appreciate the extent of the evils that gave rise to the great social convulsion.

Another defect of the "Reflections," is the exaggerated statement of what we consider one of the noblest, as it is the continually recurring point, in the discussion. We refer to the perpetual warning against theories, abstract principles, and metaphysical speculation upon liberty and government, and to the doctrine that we are to abide by existing institutions, adopting no change aside from the line of what has been already established. This position, which is sound as against visionaries and radicals, and which the growth of English

liberty has vindicated, is pushed to an extreme in the "Reflections," where all ideals of a perfect society, and all consideration of the bearing of abstract principles on the constitution of government, seem often to be excluded, and even derided, as an unprofitable dream. Some of the most powerful invectives and keenest sarcasms of Burke, are hurled at the "sophisters" and metaphysic doctors who would reconstruct society from the foundations, according to theoretical standards, the product of their own invention. We can sympathize with the general view, which bids us consult the actual state of things, and follow slowly and cautiously, in every change, the suggestions of the existing, providentially ordained system, and yet find a place for political philosophy. This feature of the "Reflections" has provoked the censure of Robert Hall. "It is pretended," says Hall, "that the moment we quit a state of nature, as we have given up the control of our actions in return for the superior advantages of law and government, we can never appeal again to any original principles, but must rest content with the advantages that are secured by the terms of the society. These are the views which distinguish the political writings of Mr. Burke, an author whose splendid and unequaled powers have given a Vogue and fashion to certain tenets which, from any other pen, would have appeared abject and contemptible." The truth is, that in this closing period of his life, when Burke, deeply and justly alarmed by the drift of events in France, and anxious for the stability of the English Constitution, parted company with Fox and his old party associates, he was determined to throw his whole strength against the tide of innovation, and hence spoke with less discrimination and less temperately than he would otherwise have done. He laid hold of all the weapons within his reach for the purpose of combating the dogmas of the French political philosophers, which he honestly deemed false and mischievous. Probably the explanation of the unqualified character of many of his assertions, and of the vehemence of his tone, is implied in the eloquent closing

* Hall's "Christianity Consistent with a Love of Freedom," Section IV.

paragraph of the "Reflections," in which, having described his own career as that of one "who has been no tool of power, no flatterer of greatness," but the industrious enemy of opulent oppression," he professes that "when the equipoise of the vessel in which he sails may be endangered by overloading it upon one side, he is desirous of carrying the small weight of his reasons to that which may preserve its equipoise.”*

There is another part of the "Reflections" with which American readers cannot be expected to sympathize. It is what Sir James Mackintosh, in his Reply to Burke, fitly styled his predilection for Aristocracy. We do not allude, of course, to the vigorous passages where Burke assaults that

* We subjoin here a remark or two on a side point of some literary and historical interest. Buckle, in his History of Civilization, (Vol. I., p. 334), puts forth the surprising assertion that Mr. Burke, in his last years, was actually deranged-under "a complete hallucination." Such a rumor, grounded partly on the touching circumstance of his weeping on the neck of the horse which had be longed to his deceased son, and partly on his vehemence in the debates relating to the French Revolution, was set afloat during his lifetime, and is explained and exposed in the fourteenth chapter of Prior's Life. We were not aware that any one, from that day to this, had given the slightest credence to this transient rumor. That Burke, during these last years, was overwhelmed with grief at the death of his son, that he was profoundly excited by the political changes of the time, that he suffered much from bodily infirmities, everybody knew. Buckle refers to the Laurence correspondence-in which we have vainly sought any support for his charge. He also refers to the later writings of Burke-as if the Letters on a Regicide Peace, impassioned though they often are, afforded the slightest countenance for the imputation of insanity to their author! Sir James Mackintosh, who passed the last Christmas of the great statesman's life with him at Beaconsfield, speaks of "the astonishing effusions of his mind in conversation," of his gleeful participation in the sports and gambols of the children, of his anticipating "his approaching dissolution with due solemnity but perfect composure," of his being "minutely and accurately informed, to a wonderful exactness, with respect to every fact relative to the French Revolution." (Life of Mackintosh, Am. Ed. 1825. Vol. I., p. 62). In the face of the monuments of intellectual vigor which Burke presents in his later works and in his correspondence, and in view of the force of personal testimony to the retention of his mental power to the last, it is extraordinary that Buckle should make a statement of this nature, adducing in favor of it proofs of so little weight.

The incident of Burke's weeping aloud on the neck of his son's favorite horse, and the folly of the charge of insanity grounded upon it, are the subject of an eloquent allusion by Mr. Everett in a speech delivered by him a few years ago at an exhibition of horses in Springfield, Mass.

caricature of the doctrine of equality which overlooks the natural, just, and inevitable ascendency belonging to real superiority in talents, knowledge, and character. We refer to his arguments in behalf of a titled and hereditary Aristocracy, constituting a privileged class, and especially to his romantic admiration of such an Order-" the Corinthian capital of polished society," as he calls it. Such feelings have, for the most part, passed away from the hearts of modern men, and cannot be again revived. We may lend ourselves for the moment to the pathetic eloquence of this great writer, whose imagination runs parallel with his wisdom, while he deplores the decline of the ancient sentiments of chivalric homage to Prince and Noble; but sentiments of this nature will not bear the scrutiny to which the reason of the present age has subjected the institutions of society. All that the moderate and conservative can say now is: let the noble retain his privilege; at least, let it not be violently wrested from him; but he is a man like ourselves, to be respected only for what he is, and for what he does for others. He can no longer be invested with a halo, because of long descent and inherited advantages.

But after allowing that these blemishes belong to Burke's discussion, it would be unjust to forget certain liberal principles which he distinctly avows.

In the first place, Burke fully admits the lawfulness of a Republican form of government. Such a form is not less legitimate, in his view, than monarchy, by however much the latter is to be preferred. Indeed, the doctrine of the "Reflections" would condemn a revolutionary movement where Republican institutions are established, equally with the attempted overthrow of monarchy. What Burke is contending for is the sacredness of the existing form of society, whatever that form may be which history has established. Holding that institutions are a growth, and not the mere product of human contrivance, independently of underlying causes and a controlling Providence, he repels the notion that they are to be torn up by the roots in order to make room for some new fabric which philosophers have planned.

Secondly, Burke expressly allows a right of Revolution. This right is the offspring of necessity alone. It is not founded on any theory of a social compact, implying that the people (in whatever way the term "people" is defined) are endowed with the right at any time, and simply because they are so inclined, to revolutionize the institutions of society. The continuance of an established government is not left by the law of God to the mere option of the people who live under it. Necessity is the only justification of a violent change. And this necessity Burke appears to limit to the case where the civil constitution is threatened with overthrow, or where corruption has perverted it from its true design and operation. In this way, the Revolution of 1688 is defended, in consistency with the author's principles,―that being only a restoration of the British Constitution, when the monarchical element was threatening to swallow up every other. Burke explains the favor he had shown to the American Revolution; on the ground that the American patriots were struggling to preserve what was theirs, the ancient, chartered rights of Englishmen. To be sure, it is natural to ask if there may not be evils necessitating a political change not provided for by law, even though the existing form of government has not been corrupted. In other words, the application of this extraordinary remedy may be warranted in other cases than the particular one considered by Burke. But the fact that he expressly admits a right of Revolution should not be overlooked.

Thirdly, Burke explicitly recognizes the rights of man. He opposes with argument and ridicule the dogmas on this subject propounded by the French school and their supporters in England; but he fully admits the existence of inherent and inviolable rights.

On this subject we shall avail ourselves of a paragraph in "the Reflections," as a text for brief comments upon a distinction familiar to educated persons, the frequent neglect of which, however, in our popular discussions, breeds great confusion and is in various ways a source of mischief. The distinction of which we speak, is that between Natural and Political Rights. The following is the passage from Burke: