ness, new and stainless forms of the social principle, authority without violence, religion without hypocrisy, the public good undebased by private interests, a general fraternity of all the virtues, were to be thenceforth the inheritance of the auspicious generation of the eighteenth century. In this universal tumult of applause, one man's ears alone could catch the cries of the rancorous and sanguinary assassins, who threw themselves forward in the march of popular liberty. the warning was sufficient for him, and from that hour he resolved that none should thereafter charge his example with having tempted them to the worship of spoliation, blasphemy, and massacre, under the insulted name of constitution.

But

With his usual fairness, Burke's first effort was to obtain all possible information of the actual state of the French mind. He maintained correspondences with persons of various grades for this purpose, and, as if he had already felt that he was to act a great part in the coming collision of Monarchy and Republicanism, he started on his route with a vigour proportioned to the magnitude of the object. But at every additional step his views became more decided. In a correspondence with M. Menonville, a member of the National Assembly, who had requested his opinion of public affairs, he says, so early as in October, 1789, "You may easily believe, that I have had my eyes turned with great curiosity, and no small concernment, to the astonishing scenes now displayed in France. It has certainly given my mind to many reflections, and to some emo

rise in

tions. *** You hope, sir, that I think the French deserving of liberty. I certainly do. I certainly think that all men who desire it, deserve it. It is not the reward of our merit, or the acquisition of our industry. It is our inheritance, the birthright of our species. We cannot forfeit our right to it, but by what forfeits our right to the privileges of our kind; I mean the abuse or oblivion of our rational faculties, and a ferocious indocility, which makes us prompt to wrong and violence, destroys our social nature, and transforms us into something little better than wild beasts. To men so degraded, a state of strong constraint is a sort of necessary substitute for freedom; since, bad as it is, it may deliver them, in some measure, from the worst of all slavery, the despotism of their own blind and brutal passions. You have kindly said, that you begin to love freedom from your intercourse with me. Permit me, then, to continue our conversation, and to tell you what is the freedom that I love. It is not solitary, unconnected, individual, selfish liberty; it is social freedom. It is that state of things in which the liberty of no man, and no body of men, is in a condition to trespass on the liberty of any person, or any description of persons in society. This kind of liberty, indeed, is but another name for justice, ascertained by wise laws, and secured by well-constructed institutions. **** I have nothing to check my wishes towards the establishment of a solid and rational scheme of liberty in France. On the subject of the relative power of nations, I may have prejudices; but I envy internal free

dom, security, and good order to none. When, therefore, I shall learn that in France, the citizen, by whatever description he is qualified, is in a perfect state of legal security, with regard to his life, to his property, to the uncontrolled disposal of his person, to the free use of his industry and his faculties; when I hear that he is protected in the beneficial enjoyment of the estates to which, by the course of settled law, he was born, or is provided with a fair compensation for them; that he is maintained in the full fruition of the advantages belonging to his state and condition of life; when I am assured that a simple citizen may decently express his sentiments on public affairs, without hazard to his life or liberty, even though against a predominant and fashionable opinion; when I know all this of France, I shall be as well pleased as every one must be, who has not forgotten the general communion of mankind, nor lost his natural sympathy in local and accidental connexions."

It is clear, from those striking developements of his mind, within so unripe a period as two months after the first blow of the Revolution, that Burke had already found the key to the whole mystery. While others saw the Revolutionary shape only assuming the attributes of pomp and festivity, as if to do additional honour to the Monarch; his foresight saw the long train of conspiracy that lurked under this ostentation of loyalty. He also saw in the fatal facility with which the unfortunate King suffered himself to be led into the very place of ruin, the destiny of the "gracious

Duncan" sealed; the Government, the laws, and the Crown, on the point of being thrown at the feet of a bloody, perfidious, and regicidal usurpation. He saw, further still, the fate of that usurpation; and, even at the time when its designs were still cloaked under the most specious covering of patriotism, when all was lofty protestation and extravagant credulity, he could mark the coming of the retributive hour, when the usurpation should feel its treachery recoiling upon itself, and successive factions do the work of justice upon each other; until France, like the she-fiend of Shakspeare, should groan over the memory of her temptations and her successes, and find, that to wash out that one foul spot of royal murder, all remorse was vain.

CHAPTER XII.

Burke's taste for the Arts-Reynolds-Barry-Burke's Criticism on the Pictures at the Adelphi—True cause of Republicanism.

In tracing this outline of the active and virtuous career of Burke, we are not to forget that he had other qualifications than those of the Senate; and that, largely as politics occupied his life, he had a reserve for the gentler purposes of society. No man better knew the value of a general taste for all the acquirements which embellish life, or their use in private intercourse, and even in polishing those more refractory and unmalleable materials of which public fame is made. An acknowledged source of the superiority of his eloquence was to be found in his extensive knowledge of the graceful arts. Giving him vividness of imagery, rich allusions, and spirited variety of topic, it threw an unrivalled charm over his style. He was peculiarly attached to painting, and to its most distinguished professor, Reynolds.

The first two Georges were nearly strangers to this country, and their habits, tastes, prejudices, and patronage, were all foreign. But, George the Third, who had nobly made it his boast that he was "born a Bri