and who have no respect but for rebels, traitors, regicides, and furious negro slaves, whose crimes have broke their chains? Would not this warm language of high indignation have more of sound reason in it, more of real affection, more of true attachment, than all the lullabies of flatterers, who would hush monarchs to sleep in the arms of death? Let them be well convinced, that if ever this advantage should prevail in its whole extent, it will have its full operation. Whilst kings stand firm on their base, though under that base there is a sure-wrought mine, there will not be wanting to their levees a single person of those who are attached to their fortune, and not to their persons or cause; but hereafter none will support a tottering throne. Some will fly for fear of being crushed under the ruin, some will join in making it. They will seek, in the destruction of royalty, fame, and power, and wealth, and the homage of kings, with Reubel, with Carnot, with Revellière, and with the Merlins and the Talliens, rather than suffer exile and beggary with the Condés, or the Broglios, the Castries, the D'Avrais, the Serrents, the Cazalés, and the long line of loyal, suffering, patriot nobility, or to be butchered with the oracles and victims of the laws, the D'Ormesons, the D'Espremenils, and the Malesherbes. This example we shall give, if instead of adhering to our fellows in a cause which is an honour to us all, we abandon the lawful government and lawful corporate body of France, to hunt for a shameful and ruinous fraternity with this odious usurpation that disgraces civilised society and the human race.

"And is, then, example nothing? It is every thing. Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no other. This war is a war against that example. It is not a war for Louis the Eighteenth, or even for the property, virtue, fidelity of France. It is a war for George the Third, for Francis the Second, and for all the dignity, property, honour, virtue, and religion of England, of Germany, and of all nations."

RETIREMENT OF BURKE FROM PARLIAMENT.

273

In parliament Burke also sustained by his eloquence the drooping spirits of government until his final retirement from the house in 1794. The report of a committee to inspect the Lords' journals, relative to the proceedings on the trial of Warren Hastings, was brought up in the April of that year. It occupied nearly two hundred pages, and according to the eminent conveyancer Charles

Butler, is one of the most learned and able legal summaries in the language. It was the work of Mr. Burke. On the 20th June following, a motion, by Mr. Pitt, for the thanks of the house to the managers of Hastings' trial was carried. Mr. Burke acknowledged the honour in a speech which touched in honest explanation

T

on what had passed, and warmly expressed his own grateful feelings. He immediately afterwards accepted the Chiltern Hundreds ; and thus he departed from that august assembly-quorum pars magna fuit—from that British House of Commons, which for more than a quarter of a century he had dignified with his virtue, enchanted with his words, and enlightened with his wisdom. Orators have since come and gone; but ages may pass before parliament listens to his like again-before such another voice, uttering eloquence not only of the tongue but of the thought, falls upon and vivifies, with dewy freshness, the great council of the nation.

Burke, on vacating his seat for Malton, obtained the immediate election of his son to represent that borough in his room. About the same time, through Burke's agency, government acquired a considerable and important reinforcement. In July 1794 Burke's eminent friend and intimate ally of more than twenty years' standing, William Henry Cavendish, Duke of Portland, joined the ministry and became third Secretary of State. Other friends of Burke, on his advice, followed the same example. Earl Fitzwilliam, first as President of the Council, and then as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; Earl Spencer, as Lord Privy Seal; and the manly, highminded William Windham, as Secretary-at-War, took office in Mr. Pitt's administration. Burke's son, the new member for Malton, was appointed secretary to Lord Fitzwilliam. Burke, of course, might have been a minister; but he now sought retirement for himself, and looked only to his son's advancement, that darling object of his life, apparently on the eve of accomplishment. A peerage was talked of for the orator; the title-Lord Burke, of Beaconsfield-was even mentioned; and the patent was reported to be in contemplation. Alas, the vanity of human things! the event of the next month swept away all Burke's worldly hopes, happiness, and anxiety for honours.

DEATH OF EDMUND BURKE'S SISTER AND BROTHER-DEATH OF HIS SON: HIS GRIEF IN CONSEQUENCE-EDMUND BURKE'S PENSION: HIS LETTER TO THE DUKE OF BEDFORD RELATIVE TO IT-BURKE'S DECLINING HEALTH-HIS DEATH, FUNERAL, AND WILL-DR. KING, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER; SIR RICHARD BOURKE-EDMUND BURKE'S FAMILY AND REPRESENTATIVES-SALE OF HIS ESTATE AT BEACONSFIELD, AND ACCIDENTAL DESTRUCTION BY FIRE OF HIS SEAT-PERSONAL DESCRIPTION OF BURKE-CONCLUDING REMARKS.

When his lov'd child the Roman could not save,
Immortal Tully, from an early grave,

No common forms his home-felt passion kept-
The sage, the patriot, and the parent wept.*

*

The son fair rising knew too short a date;
But oh! how more severe the parent's fate!
He saw him torn untimely from his side,
Felt all a father's anguish, wept, and died.

MALLET.

IN 1790, as already stated, death deprived Edmund Burke of his beloved sister. The year 1794 commenced with the loss of another of his dearest relatives. On the 4th February of that year, his brother Richard, Recorder of Bristol, departed this life. Burke was deeply afflicted. The sorrow he felt made him for some time withdraw from his attendance in parliament, and indeed confirmed him in his intention of more permanent retirement. The loss of his brother was a grievous deprivation. He had been his companion from his earliest years, and had constantly shared his fortunes, his pleasures, and his home. Towards the members of his own family Burke had a warmth of heart which made him regard them beyond every one else. He thought them all perfect. He accordingly looked up to his brother as a person of extraordinary abilities. Richard Burke, though not that, had nevertheless, as already mentioned, considerable wit, acuteness, and knowledge, and was very generally esteemed and respected. He died unmarried the 4th February, 1794.

The August of the same year brought upon Edmund Burke another calamity, which did more to undermine his energies and to sap his vitality than all the toil and turmoil of his previous life. This was the premature death of that only and beloved son, about whom he had augured so fondly and so proudly-the child that was to be the stay and solace of the father in his declining age― the heir not only of his renown, but of a fame far brighter than his