It

friends you will have. The more ardently they | bravery and discipline? No! surely no! It is love liberty, the more perfect will be their obe- the love of the people; it is their attachment to dience. Slavery they can have any where. their government, from the sense of the deep is a weed that grows in every soil. They may stake they have in such a glorious institution, have it from Spain; they may have it from Prus- which gives you your army and your navy, and sia; but, until you become lost to all feeling of infuses into both that liberal obedience, without your true interest and your natural dignity, free- which your army would be a base rabble, and dom they can have from none but you. This is your navy nothing but rotten timber. the commodity of price, of which you have the monopoly. This is the true Act of Navigation, which binds to you the commerce of the colonies, and through them secures to you the wealth of the world. Deny them this participation of freedom, and you break that sole bond which originally made, and must still preserve, the unity of the empire. Do not entertain so weak an imagination as that your registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, your cockets and your clearances, are what form the great securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious whole. These things do not make your government. Dead instruments, passive tools as they are, it is the spirit of the English communion that gives all their life and efficacy to them. It is the spirit of the English Constitution, which, infused, through the mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies every part of the empire, even down to the minutest member.42

Is it not the same virtue which does every thing for us here in England? Do you imagine, then, that it is the land tax which raises your revenue? that it is the annual vote in the Committee of Supply, which gives you your army? or that it is the Mutiny Bill which inspires it with

the House that I have built for thy name, then hear thou in heaven their prayer and their supplication, and maintain their cause."-1st Kings, ix., 44-5. Accordingly, "When Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime."-Dan.,

vi., 10.

42 The reader of Virgil will trace the origin of this beautiful sentence to the poet's description of the Animus Mundi, or soul of the universe, in the sixth book of the Eneid, lines 926-7.

Spiritus intus alit; totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscit. Within a Spirit lives: a Mind infused Through every member of that mighty mass, Pervades, sustains, and actuates the whole. Mr. Burke's application of this image to the Spirit of Freedom in the English Constitution is one of the finest conceptions of his genius. The thought rises into new dignity and strength when we view it (as it lay in the mind of Burke) in connection with the sublime passage by which it was suggested.

All this, I know well enough, will sound wild and chimerical to the profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical politicians, who have no place among us; a sort of people who think that nothing exists but what is gross and material, and who therefore, far from being qualified to be directors of the great movement of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the machine. But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these ruling and master principles, which, in the opinion of such men as I have mentioned, have no substantial existence, are in truth every thing and all in all. Magnanimity in politics is not seldom the truest wisdom; and a great empire and little minds go ill together. If we are conscious of our situation, and glow with zeal to fill our place as becomes our station and ourselves, we ought to auspicate all our public proceedings on America with the old warning of the Church, Sursum corda 143 We ought to elevate our minds to the greatness of that trust to which the order of Providence has called us. By adverting to the dignity of this high calling, our ancestors have turned a savage wilderness into a glorious empire, and have made the most extensive and the only honorable conquests, not by destroying, but by promoting, the wealth, the number, the happiness of the human race. Let us get an American revenue as we have got an American empire. English privileges have made it all that it is; English privileges alone will make it all it can be.

In full confidence of this unalterable truth, I now (quod felix faustumque sit)* lay the first stone in the temple of peace; and I move you,

That the colonies and plantations of Great Britain in North America, consisting of fourteen separate governments, and containing two millions and upward of free inhabitants, have not had the liberty and privilege of electing and sending any knights and burgesses, or others, to represent them in the high court of Parliament."

On this resolution the previous question was demanded, and was carried against Mr. Burke by a majority of 270 to 78. The other resolutions, of course, fell to the ground.

43 44 Let your hearts rise upward," a call to silent prayer, at certain intervals of the Roman Catholic service.

44 This was a form of prayer among the Romans at the commencement of any important undertaking, "that it may be happy and prosperous."

SPEECH

OF MR. BURKE AT BRISTOL, PREVIOUS TO THE ELECTION, DELIVERED SEPTEMBER 6, 1780.

mons.

INTRODUCTION.

MR. BURKE did not originally seek the honor of representing the city of Bristol in the House of Com On the dissolution of Parliament in 1774, he was chosen member for Malton in Yorkshire, through the influence of Lord Rockingham; and was in the act of returning thanks to his constituents, when a deputation arrived from Bristol, informing him that he had been put in nomination by his friends there. He repaired immediately to the spot, and after a severe contest was elected by a considerable majority. During the six years which followed, Mr. Burke was laboriously engaged in his duties as a member of Parliament. His time was so fully occupied, that while he never neglected the interests of his constituents, he found but little leisure or opportunity to see them in person. He was, indeed, ill fitted, in some respects, for conciliating popular favor by visits and entertainments. His studious habits and refined tastes led him to shrink from the noise and bustle of a progress among the people of Bristol, which, in so large a city, would almost of necessity assume the character of a regular canvass. In addition to this, he had offended a majority of his constituents by his political conduct, especially by opposing the American war-by voting (against their positive instructions) for the grant of increased privileges to the Irish trade-by supporting Lord Beauchamp's bill for the relief of insolvent debtors-and by the share he took in the repeal of some very cruel enactments against the Roman Catholics.

In this state of things, Parliament was unexpectedly dissolved about a year before its regular term of expiration, and Mr. Burke found himself suddenly thrown, under every possible disadvantage, into the midst of a contested election. He immediately repaired to Bristol; and, as a preliminary step, in order to try his ground, he requested a meeting of the corporation, at which he delivered the following speech in explanation and defense of his conduct. Never was there a more manly or triumphant vindication. Conscious of the rectitude of his intentions, he makes no attempt to shuffle or evade. "No," he exclaims, "I did not obey your instructions. I conformed to the instructions of truth and nature, and maintained your interest against your opinions, with the constancy that became me. A representative that was worthy of you ought to be a person of stability. I am to look, indeed, to your opinions; but to such opinions as you and I must have five years hence. I was not to look at the flash of the day. I knew that you chose me in my place, along with others, to be a pillar of the state, and not a weather-cock on the top of the edifice, exalted for my levity and versatility, and of no use but to indicate the shiftings of every fashionable gale." The voice of posterity has decided in Mr. Burke's favor upon all the topics here discussed; and the wonder is, that these masterly reasonings should ever have been necessary, in defense of measures which were equally demanded by justice and humanity, and perhaps by the very existence of the empire.

This is, in many respects, the best speech of Mr. Burke for the study and imitation of a young orator. It is more simple and direct than any of his other speeches. It was addressed to merchants and business-men; and while it abounds quite as much as any of his productions in the rich fruits of political wisdom, and has occasionally very bold and striking images, it is less ambitious in style, and less proflaent in illustration, than his more elaborate efforts in the House of Commons.

SPEECH, &c.

MR. MAYOR AND GENTLEMEN,-I am extremely pleased at the appearance of this large and respectable meeting. The steps I may be obliged to take will want the sanction of a considerable authority; and in explaining any thing which may appear doubtful in my public conduct, I must naturally desire a very full audience. I have been backward to begin my canvass. The dissolution of the Parliament was uncertain; and it did not become me, by an unseasonable importunity, to appear diffident of the fact of my six years' endeavors to please you. I had served the city of Bristol honorably; and the city of Bristol had no reason to think that the means of honorable service to the public were become indifferent to me.

Reasons for

the meeting.

I found, on my arrival here, that three gentlemen had been long in eager pursuit of an object which but two of us can ob- requesting tain. I found that they had all met with encouragement. A contested election in such a city as this is no light thing. I paused on the brink of the precipice. These three gentlemen, by various merits, and on various titles, I made no doubt were worthy of your favor. I shall never attempt to raise myself by depreciating the merits of my competitors. In the complexity and confusion of these cross pursuits, I wished to take the authentic public sense of my friends upon a business of so much delicacy. I wished to take your opinion along with me; that if I should give up the contest at the very begin

THE BRISTOL ELECTION.

I am sensible that no endeavors have been left untried to injure me in your opinion. But the use of character is to be a shield against Public men calumny. I could wish, undoubtedly (if be treated idle wishes were not the most idle of captiously. all things), to make every part of my conduct agreeable to every one of my constituents. But in so great a city, and so greatly divided as this, it is weak to expect it. In such a discordancy of sentiments, it is better to look to the naThe ture of things than to the humors of men. very attempt toward pleasing every body, discovers a temper always flashy, and often false and insincere. Therefore, as I have proceeded straight onward in my conduct, so I will proceed in my account of those parts of it which have But I must first beg been most excepted to. leave just to hint to you, that we may suffer very great detriment by being open to every talker. It is not to be imagined how much of service is lost from spirits full of activity and full of energy, who are pressing, who are rushing forward to great and capital objects, when you oblige them to be continually looking back. While they are defending one service, they defraud you of a hundred. Applaud us when we run; console us when we fall; cheer us when we recover; but let us pass on-for God's sake, let us pass on.

Do you think, gentlemen, that every public act in the six years since I stood in this place before you that all the arduous things which have been done in this eventful period, which has crowded into a few years' space the revolutions of an age, can be opened to you on their fair grounds in half an hour's conversation?

But it is no reason, because there is a bad mode of inquiry, that there should be no examination at all. Most certainly it is our duty to But it must be examine; it is our interest too. with discretion; with an attention to all the circumstances, and to all the motives; like sound judges, and not like caviling pettifoggers and quibbling pleaders, prying into flaws and hunting for exceptions. Look, gentlemen, to the whole tenor of your member's conduct. Try whether his ambition or his avarice have justled him out of the straight line of duty, or whether that grand foe of the offices of active life-that master-vice in men of business, a degenerate and inglorious sloth-has made him flag, and languish in his course.

This is the object of our inquiry. If our member's conduct can bear this touch, mark it for sterling. He may have fallen into errors he must have faults; but our error is greater, and our fault is radically ruinous to ourselves, if we do not bear, if we do not even applaud the whole compound and mixed mass of such a character. Not to act thus is folly; I had almost said, it is impiety. He censures God who quarrels with the imperfections of man.

standings; if we do not permit our members to | fatigued in body and in mind, to a little repose, act upon a very enlarged view of things, we shall at length infallibly degrade our national representation into a confused and shuffling bustle of local agency. When the popular member is narrowed in his ideas, and rendered timid in his proceedings, the service of the Crown will be the sole nursery of statesmen. Among the frolics of the Court, it may at length take that of attending to its business. Then the monopoly of mental power will be added to the power of all other kinds it possesses. On the side of the people there will be nothing but impotence; for ignorance is impotence; narrowness of mind is impotence; timidity is itself impotence, and makes all other qualities that go along with it impotent and useless.

At present it is the plan of the Court to make its servants insignificant. If the people should fall into the same humor, and should choose their servants on the same principles of mere obsequiousness, and flexibility, and total vacancy or indifference of opinion in all public matters, then no part of the state will be sound, and it will be in vain to think of saving it.1

I thought it very expedient at this time to give you this candid counsel; and with this counsel I would willingly close, if the matters which at various times have been objected to me in this city concerned only myself and my own election. These charges, I think, are four in number: my Subject: Charg neglect of a due attention to my cones against Mr. stituents; the not paying more fresentative of Bris- quent visits here; my conduct on

Burke as repre

tol.

the affairs of the first Irish trade acts; my opinion and mode of proceeding on Lord Beauchamp's debtor's bills; and my votes on the late affairs of the Roman Catholics. All of these (except, perhaps, the first) relate to matters of very considerable public concern; and it is not lest you should censure me improperly, but lest you should form improper opinions on matters of some moment to you, that I trouble you at all upon the subject. My conduct is of small importance.

First Charge:

I. With regard to the first charge, my friends have spoken to me of it in the style Neglect of con- of amicable expostulation; not so stituents. much blaming the thing, as lamenting the effects. Others, less partial to me, were less kind in assigning the motives. I admit, there is a decorum and propriety in a member of Parliament's paying a respectful court to his constituents. If I were conscious to myself that pleasure or dissipation, or low, unworthy occupations had detained me from personal attendance on you, I would readily admit my fault, and quietly submit to the penalty. But, gentlemen, I live a hundred miles distance from Bristol; and at the end of a session I come to my own house,

It is hardly necessary to remark how much striking and just thought is crowded into this exordium

any

and transition. It would be difficult to find where in the same space an equal amount of weighty considerations so perfectly suited to introduce such a discussion.

and to a very little attention to my family and my
private concerns. A visit to Bristol is always a
sort of canvass, else it will do more harm than
good. To pass from the toils of a session to the
toils of a canvass is the farthest thing in the
world from repose. I could hardly serve you
as I have done and court you too.
Most of you
have heard that I do not very remarkably spare
myself in public business; and in the His services
private business of my constituents I in London.
have done very near as much as those who have
nothing else to do. My canvass of you was not
on the 'change, nor in the county meetings, nor
in the clubs of this city. It was in the House
of Commons; it was at the Custom-house; it
was at the Council; it was at the Treasury; it
was at the Admiralty. I canvassed you through
your affairs, and not your persons. I was not
only your representative as a body; I was the
agent, the solicitor of individuals. I ran about
wherever your affairs could call me; and in act-
ing for you, I often appeared rather as a ship-bro-
ker than as a member of Parliament. There was
nothing too laborious or too low for me to under-
take. The meanness of the business was raised
by the dignity of the object. If some lesser mat-
ters have slipped through my fingers, it was be-
cause I filled my hands too full, and, in my ea-
gerness to serve you, took in more than my hands
could grasp. Several gentlemen stand round
me who are my willing witnesses, and there are
others who, if they were here, would be still bet-
ter, because they would be unwilling witnesses
to the same truth. It was in the middle of a
summer résidence in London, and in the middle
of a negotiation at the Admiralty for your trade,
that I was called to Bristol; and this late visit,
at this late day, has been possibly in prejudice to
your affairs.

his part, bad

reason to com

Since I have touched upon this matter, let me say, gentlemen, that if I had a dispo- Mr. Burke, on sition or a right to complain, I have some cause of complaint on my side. plain. With a petition of this city in my hand, passed through the corporation without a dissenting voice, a petition in unison with almost the whole voice of the kingdom (with whose formal thanks I was covered over), while I labored on no less than five bills for a public reform, and fought against the opposition of great abilities, and of the greatest power, every clause, and every word of the largest of those bills, almost to the very last day of a very long session-all this time a canvass in Bristol was as calmly carried on as if I were dead. I was considered as a man wholly out of the question. While I watched, and fasted, and sweated in the House of Commons, by the most easy and ordinary arts of election, by dinners and visits, by "How-do-youdos" and "My worthy friends," I was to be quietly moved out of my seat; and promises were made, and engagements entered into, without 2 Mr. Burke here refers to his bills for economical reform, which were advocated in his speech on this subject, delivered February 11th, 1780.

trust.

In that public storm, too, I had my private feelings. I had seen blown down and prostrate on the ground several of those houses to whom I was chiefly indebted for the honor this city has done me. I confess, that while the wounds of those I loved were yet green, I could not bear to show myself in pride and triumph in that place into which their partiality had brought me, and to appear at feasts and rejoicings, in the midst of the grief and calamity of my warm friends, my zealous supporters, my generous benefactors. This is a true, unvarnished, undisguised state of the affair. You will judge of it.

upon which I found all my reputation? What would be left to me, if I myself was the man who softened, and blended, and diluted, and weakened, all the distinguishing colors of my life, so as to leave nothing distinct and determinate in my whole conduct ?4

to Ireland.

II. It has been said, and it is the second charge, that in the questions of the Irish Second charge: trade I did not consult the interest Giving free trade of my constituents, or, to speak out strongly, that I rather acted as a native of Ireland, than as an English member of Parliament.

any exception or reserve, as if my laborious zeal | But time at length has made us all of one opinin my duty had been a regular abdication of my | ion; and we have all opened our eyes on the true nature of the American war, to the true To open my whole heart to you on this sub-nature of all its successes and all its failures. Grounds of ject, I do confess, however, that there reluctance to were other times besides the two years visit Bristol. in which I did visit you, when I was not wholly without leisure for repeating that mark of my respect; but I could not bring my mind to see you. You remember that in the beginning of this American war (that era of calamity, disgrace, and downfall-an era which no feeling mind will ever mention without a tear for England) you were greatly divided; and a very strong body, if not the strongest, opposed itself to the madness which every art and every power were employed to render popular, in order that the errors of the rulers might be lost in This is the only one of the charges in which the general blindness of the nation. This oppo- I am personally concerned. As to the other sition continued until after our great, but most matters objected against me, which in their turn unfortunate victory at Long Island.3 Then all I shall mention to you, remember once more I do the mounds and banks of our constancy were no mean to extenuate or excuse. Why should borne down at once, and the phrensy of the Amer-I, when the things charged are among those ican war broke in upon us like a deluge. This victory, which seemed to put an immediate end to all difficulties, perfected in that spirit of domination which our unparalleled prosperity had but too long nurtured. We had been so very powerful, and so very prosperous, that even the humblest of us were degraded into the vices and follies of kings. We lost all measure between means and ends; and our headlong desires became our politics and our morals. All men who wished for peace, or retained any sentiments of moderation, were overborne or silenced; and this city was led by every artifice (and probably with more management, because I was one of your members) to distinguish itself by its zeal for that fatal cause. In this temper of yours and of my mind, I should have sooner fled to the extremities of the earth than have shown myself here. I, who saw in every American victory (for you have had a long series of these misfortunes) the germ and seed of the naval power of France and Spain, which all our heat and warmth against America was only hatching into life-I should not have been a welcome visitant with the brow and the language of such feelings. When afterward the other face of your calamity was turned upon you, and showed itself in defeat and distress, I shunned you full as much. I felt sorely this variety in our wretchedness, and I did not wish to have the least appearance of insulting you with that show of superiority which, though it may not be assumed, is generally suspected in a time of calamity from those whose previous warnings have been despised. I could not bear to show you a representative whose face did not reflect that of his constituents; a face that could not joy in your joys and sorrow in your sorrows. 3 This occurred in August, 1776, when the army under Washington was defeated, and New York taken by the British. This success made the war popular throughout England, and created an expect ation of the immediate reduction of the colonies.

I certainly have very warm, good wishes for the place of my birth. But the sphere of my duties is my true country. It was as a man attached to your interests, and zealous for the conservation of your power and dignity, that I act ed on that occasion, and on all occasions. You were involved in the American war. A new world of policy was opened, to which it was necessary we should conform, whether we would or not; and my only thought was how to conform to our situation in such a manner as to unite to this kingdom, in prosperity and in affection, whatever remained of the empire. I was true to my old, standing, invariable principle, that all things which came from Great Britain should issue as a gift of her bounty and benefi

+ It is an old adage, that the audience makes the orator; and it is certainly the fact that Mr. Burke, in speaking thus largely of himself before a body of plain men like the people of Bristol, was entirely free from that appearance of display, and that intrusion of what is purely fanciful, which sometimes marked his performances in the House of Commons. Never was a defense more ingenious, and yet more simple and manly. There is no affected modesty about it, nor is there the slightest appearance of vanity or arrogance. If any one should consider beforehand what kind of answer was to be given to so frivolous an objection, it would hardly seem possible to frame one containing so much solid and ingenious thought, and yet so perfectly suited to the

nature of the case.