matter, and as warmly applauded by others. One writer accuses him of originating the accusations out of personal pique, because a slight had been shewn by Hastings to Mr. William Burke; another stigmatizes the whole affair as a mere job; a third suggests that it arose out of a desire to justify Fox's rejected India bill; and a fourth attributes it solely to Burke's feelings as a patriot, and an enemy to oppression. Whatever difference of opinion may exist with regard to his motives, it is generally admitted that he supported the charges with eloquence almost superhuman. He occupied four days in opening the case, and it has been powerfully observed, that no terms can describe the more than mortal vehemence with which he uttered his manifold accusations. While describing some of the cruelties practised in India, during the period that Hastings was governor-general, "curses, not loud but deep," are said to have been uttered against the perpetrators of them, by the male portion of his hearers; and so powerful was the impression produced by his statements on the females present, that sobbings, tears, and even screams, ensued. Mrs. Sheridan, and some other ladies, fainted during the recital. Even the iron-hearted Thurlow was affected; and Hastings, himself, admitted, that for half an hour he looked up to the orator in a reverie of wonder, and actually felt himself to be the most culpable being on earth. "But," he adds, "I returned to my own bosom, and there found a consciousness which consoled me under all I heard and all I suffered." It must be confessed that these extraordinary effects were produced by strong exaggerations, and the vehement expression of the orator's feelings at horrors which were never perpetrated, at least, to the extent alleged against the accused. Instead of acting with the calm dignity of a public prosecutor before the highest tribunal in the kingdom, he suffered his feelings, as an advocate, or, perhaps, his desire of producing admiration at his stupendous powers, so far to overwhelm his judgment, that he assailed the late governorgeneral with the most virulent invectives; and magnified facts which he either knew or ought to have known, were peccadillos, rather than crimes, into the most revolting enormities. While exhausting the whole powers of his mind in execrating the tyrannical conduct of the accused, he rendered himself obnoxious to the charge of oppression, by persecuting the temporary victim of his miraculous eloquence. As a proof of his feelings against the supposed delinquent, it is related, that on one of the days of the trial, he said to a young nobleman, the heir-presumptive to a peerage, whom he found in the manager's box, "I am glad to see you here; I shall be still more happy to see you there (pointing to the peers' seats); I hope you will be in at the death: I should like to blood you!" For the honour of his head, as well as his heart, it is to be hoped, that these atrocious expressions have been falsely attributed to him. It is proper, however, to observe that the anecdote is reported upon very good authority. His rancorous hostility to Hastings occasioned the following severe epigram, (written, it is said, by the late Lord Ellenborough) which was handed to him, in an envelope, just as he was about to open one of the charges of the impeachment: Oft have we wonder'd that on Irish ground This bitter effusion produced a momentary effect on the orator's nerves: he indignantly tore the paper on which it was written in pieces; but the lines were so impressed on his memory, that, long afterwards, he repeated them to some of his friends. During the illness of George the Third, in 1788, Burke, in opposition to Pitt, advocated the right of the Prince of Wales to a regency without restriction: the contest of opinions, on this point, had scarcely been concluded, when the cause was removed, for that time at least, by the king's recovery. On the breaking out of the French revolution, while his friends, Fox and Sheridan, expressed their warm admiration at the event, Burke, in the language of an intelligent writer, "preached a crusade" against the principles of those who had effected and supported it. The consequence of this 66 schism was a rupture between the principal members of the opposition. In a debate on the Canada bill, in 1791, Burke, who had previously declared, that he and Sheridan were separated in politics for ever, solemnly renounced all connexion, either public or private, with Fox; and neither humiliation or entreaties, on the part of the latter could ever after appease him. My separation from Mr. Fox," said he, "is a principle, and not a passion: I hold it my sacred duty, to confirm what I have said and written, by this sacrifice. And to what purpose would be the re-union for a moment? I can have no delight with him, nor he with me." When the speedy dissolution of Burke was confidently predicted, Fox wrote to Mrs. Burke, earnestly entreating that he might be permitted to have an interview with her husband; but even that favour was refused. Mrs. Burke, in reply to his letter, stated, "That it had cost Mr. Burke the most heartfelt pain to obey the stern voice of his duty, in rending asunder a long friendship: but that he had effected this necessary sacrifice; and that, in whatever life yet remained to him, he conceived that he must continue to live for others, and not for himself." The violent feelings of Burke, with regard to the French revolution, are strikingly exemplified by the following anecdotes:-During a debate on the alien act, he was guilty of the outrageous absurdity of displaying a drawn dagger to the amazed commons. "This," said he, throwing the weapon violently on the floor, "is what you will gain by an alliance with France." Curwen relates that, one night, while he was waiting for his carriage, Burke came up to him and requested, as the night was wet, that he would set him down. "I could not refuse," continues Mr. C. "though I felt a reluctance in complying. As soon as the carriage door was shut, he complimented me on being no friend to the revolutionary doctrines of the French, on which he spoke with great warmth for a few minutes, when he paused, to afford me an opportunity of approving the view he had taken of those measures in the house. Former experience had taught me the consequences of differing from his opinions, yet, at the moment, I could not help feeling disinclined to disguise my sentiments. Mr. Burke, catching hold of the checkstring, furiously exclaimed, 'You are one of these people,-set me down!' With some difficulty I restrained him;we had then reached Charing-cross-a silence ensued, which was preserved till we reached his house, in Gerrard-street, when he hurried out of the carriage without speaking, and thus our intercourse ended." His Reflections on the Revolution, were published in 1790; in a short time, by means of a French translation, they were spread all over Europe; and the author received the warmest testimonials of approbation, from the Emperor of Germany, the King of Poland, the French Princes, and Catherine of Russia. George the Third distributed several copies of the work among his friends, and said it was a book which every gentleman ought to read. Trinity college, Dublin, conferred on the writer the honorary degree of LL.D.; and the resident graduates of the university of Oxford, communicated an address of thanks to him through the celebrated Mr. Windham. He produced various other works on the French revolution and other political subjects, which procured him the applause of some, and the contempt and execrations of others. In 1794, he effected an union between the old Whigs and the ministry, and withdrew from parliament. Shortly afterwards, he lost his beloved son, Richard, whom he seems to have considered as a more talented man than himself. His grief on this occasion is described as having been truly heartrending. In October, 1795, he obtained a pension of £1,200 a year on the civil list, and subsequently an additional annuity of £2,500, on the four and a half per cent. fund. His acceptance of these favours from government, brought on him the most rancorous abuse: and in the opinion of many persons, it remains an indelible stain on his political cha racter. In the beginning of the year 1797, Burke's health declined with great rapidity. Although enfeebled in body, his mind remained unimpaired, and he conversed with his usual powers, until a short time before he died. His young friend, Mr. Nagle, of the war office, attended him in his last moments. While that gentleman and Burke's servants were conveying him to his bed, on the 8th of July, 1797, he faintly articulated, "God bless you!" and after a brief struggle, expired in their arms. He was buried in Beaconsfield church. Burke was about five feet ten inches in height; robust in form, but not corpulent; in his youth he was remarkable for activity, and his countenance, during the early part and prime of his life, was generally accounted handsome. His features were expressive of benevolence and sensibility, rather than indicative of exalted talent. He was near-sighted, and used spectacles from about the year 1780. He was negligent in dress; and towards the latter end of his life wore a little bob-wig, and a brown coat, which appeared so tight as almost to impede the free natural action of his arms. His character in private life was almost unimpeachable: as a friend, a husband, and a father, his conduct appears to have been exemplary. His powers of conversation were equal, if not superior to those of any man of his day. On one occasion, when Johnson was ill, he said, "Edmund Burke, in discourse, calls forth all the powers of my mind: were I to argue with him in my present state, it would be the death of me.' He loved praise, abhorred slander, and was loath to give offence. There was more safety in his society than in that of his friend, the surly lexicographer; not that he was less powerful, but because he was more amiable. He never crushed those with whom he had been gambolling, for the mere purpose of exhibiting his strength: he protected rather than assaulted his inferiors, and appears to have occasionally delighted in descending to the level of those about him, as much as Johnson gloried in constantly asserting his supremacy. He was always prepared to enter upon subjects of the most exalted interest, and frequently started them himself; but, in general, he seems to have felt a preference for lively and familiar conversation. loved humour, and among intimate friends, his fancy and spirits occasionally led him, "nothing loath," into extravagance and folly. He not only punned, for the purpose, as he stated, He of pleasing the ladies, but punned so miserably, that his niece, Miss French, frequently rallied him for his failures. He was so very partial to children, that he would play at tee-totum and push-pin with them, and, apparently, take as much delight in the stories of Jack the Giant-Killer and Tom Thumb as themselves. "Half an hour might pass," says Murphy, " during which he would keep speaking in such a way that you could see no more in him than an ordinary man, good-naturedly amusing his young auditors, when some observation or suggestion calling his attention, a remark of the most profound wisdom would slip out, and he would return to his tee-totum." is related of him that one day, after dining with Fox, Sheridan, Lord John Townshend, and several other eminent men, at Sheridan's cottage, he amused himself by rapidly wheeling his host's little son round the front garden in a child's hand-chaise. While thus employed, the great orator, it is added, evinced by his looks and activity, that he enjoyed the sport nearly as much as his delighted play-fellow. It He was an intense admirer of poetry, particularly that of Milton; but like Pitt, Fox, and Johnson, he had no ear for music. He was neither addicted to the bottle or the dice-box: he scarcely knew the most simple games at cards: and although he drank wine, in moderation, (claret was his favourite,) during the early part of his life, he preferred very hot water, latterly, to any other beverage. "Warm water," he would often observe, "is sickening, but hot water stimulates." He was a man of extraordinary application: his studies were so extensive, and his attention was so much occupied by public affairs, that he had, as he said, no time to be idle. While some of his political friends were sleeping off the effects of a tavern carousal, or recruiting their mental and bodily powers, after having exhausted both at the gaming table, he was engaged in political or private business, in study or literary labour. On his way to the house, he was in the habit of calling on Fox, whom he usually found just risen from bed, fresh and unjaded for the struggles of the evening, while Burke was at the same moment nearly exhausted by the occupations of the morning. "It is no wonder, therefore," he would sometimes say, "that Charles is so much more vigorous than I am in the debate." At his entrance into public life, he can scarcely be said to have joined a party on conviction of the propriety of their principles: he seems rather to have enlisted as a recruit, in hopes of promotion, under the banners of the first political leader who offered him bounty. He partook largely of the public opinions of his noble patron, Lord Rockingham, and was more of an aristocrat than the majority, if not all, of his junior coadjutors in opposition. He detested what he termed pedlar principles in public affairs, but maintained the necessity of retrenching the public expenditure; of being economical without degenerating into parsimony. One of the chief errors of his political life was, his joining Fox in an attempt to strengthen their own party, by an union with another, on which he and his friends had previously lavished the most vehement invectives. That the coalition ministry was unpopular, although supported by the most splendid talents, is by no means surprising. In public opinion, it stood between the horns of a dilemma: if the abuse of Burke's party were merited by Lord North and his adherents, they were unfit to hold a place in administration, especially in conjunction with those who had exposed their incapacity: on the other hand, if the censure which had been so liberally bestowed on them, were not warranted by facts, Burke and his political friends, from whom it emanated, were subject to a triumphant charge of having acted most unworthily during their opposition to Lord North's administration; and each party was alike guilty of meanness, in coalesceing, for motives of political interest, with the other, from which it had endured, or on which it had inflicted, the most exasperating abuse. On no other subject, except, perhaps, Pitt's bill for parliamentary reform, which Burke strenuously opposed, did his aristocratic feelings so far overwhelm his popular principles as on that of the revolution in France. A difference of opinion on the topic was sufficient to extinguish his private regard: he ceased to be conciliatory, and lost his usual liberality while discussing it. "He left no means unemployed," says Nicholls, "to inflame the whole of Europe to the adoption of his opinion. The late Sir Philip Francis used to say, that if the friends of peace and liberty had subscribed £30,000 to relieve Burke's pecuniary embarrassments, there would have been no war against the French revolution. As a public speaker, Burke's manner was bold and forcible; his delivery vehement and unembarrassed; but, though easy, he was inelegant. His head continually oscillated, and his gesticulations were frequently violent. To the last hour of his life his pronunciation was Hibernian. Although a great orator, he was not a skilful debater. men ever possessed greater strength of imagination, or a more admirable choice of words. His mind was richly stored, and he had the most perfect mastery over its treasures. His astonishing exuberance was often fatal to his suc cess. Few He crowded trope on trope, and metaphor on metaphor, with such profusion, that, although he always kept the main question in view, every one else often lost sight of it. He more frequently astonished than convinced. It has been said, that, to have attained a relish for the charms of his compositions, was to have greatly advanced in literature; but, unfortunately for his success in debate, he was not aware of, or did not heed, this important fact himself. He gave his hearers credit for an alacrity of comprehension, "a knowledge of things visible and invisible;" the sober realities of historical truth, the arcana of science, the most exalted flights of poetry, and the feelings, habits, and opinions, of the various grades of society in different ages and countries, which few men possess. He drew his illustrations from what, to most of his hearers, was terra incognita; his figures were startling, and, to many of his auditors, mysterious. He amazed and stultified the country gentlemen by his gorgeous imagery; the splendid ornaments with which he often bedecked and half buried his arguments; and, at length, they turned a deaf ear to what they could not understand. In his most brilliant efforts, he was sometimes deemed dull, because, by those whom he addressed, he was incomprehensible; and he was not unfrequently laughed at for being absurd when safely winging his glorious way along the brink of the sublime. The numerous technical terms, derived from a variety of occupations, with which he enriched and invigorated his diction, often tended to disguise his meaning; and the luxuriance of his fancy frequently betrayed him, during the warmth of debate, into a ludicrous confusion of metaphor. He carried few of the virtues of his social deportment into the house of commons; where, on many occasions, he was coarse, intemperate, and reckless of inflicting pain on those who were opposed to him in political opinions. His copiousness repeatedly bordered on prolixity; his praise, on fulsome flattery; his indignation, on virulence; his imaginative flights, on nonsensical rhapsody; and his splendid diction on gross bombast. But, with all his faults, Burke was one of the very few of whom it may safely be said, "This man was a genius." His cotemporaries have applied almost every laudatory epithet in the language to his eloquence. Johnson said he was not only the first man in the house of commons, but the first man everywhere; and, on being asked if he did not think Burke resembled Cicero, replied "No, sir; Cicero resembled Burke." Crabbe states that his powers were vast, and his attainments various. Pitt characterized some of his remarks as the overflowings of a mind, the richness of whose wit was unchecked for the time by its wisdom. In the language of Cazales, he possessed the sublimest talents, the greatest and rarest virtues, that ever were enshrined in a single character. When he died, Windham said that it was not among the least calamities of the times that the world had lost him. Curwen asserts that he not only surpassed all his cotemporaries, but, perhaps, never was equalled. Winstanley, principal of Alban Hall, and Camden professor of ancient history, asserts that it would be exceedingly difficult to meet with a person who knew more of the philosophy, the history, and the filiation of languages, or the principles of etymological deduction, than Burke. Wilberforce, who was usually opposed to him in politics, 66 confessed that his eloquence had always attracted, his imagination continually charmed, and his reasoning often convinced him. "Who is there," says Dr. Parr, speaking of Burke, among men of eloquence or learning more profoundly versed in every branch of science? Who is there that has cultivated philosophy, the parent of all that is illustrious in literature or exploit, with more felicitous success? Who is there that can transfer so happily the result of laborious and intricate research to the most familiar and popular topics? Who is there that possesses so extensive, yet so accurate, an acquaintance with every transaction re cent or remote ?" His mind, by one author, has been described as an encyclopedia, from which every man who approached it received information. As an orator, says another, notwithstanding some defects, he stands almost unrivalled. Learning, observes a third, waited upon him like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all that antiquity had culled or invented; and if grandeur, says a fourth, is not to be found in Burke, it is to be found nowhere. Gerard Hamilton, when at variance with him, protested that this extraordinary man understood every thing but gaming and music. Goldsmith, speaking of Johnson, said, "Does he wind into a subject like a serpent, as Burke does?" Lord John Townshend, after hearing one of his early speeches, exclaimed, "Good God! what a man is this! How could he acquire such transcendent powers!" Lord Thurlow is reported to have expressed an opinion that he would be remembered with admiration when Pitt and Fox would be comparatively forgotten; and Fox himself, on more than one occasion, confessed, that all he had ever read in books, all that his fancy had imagined, all that his reasoning faculties had suggested, or his experience had taught him, fell far short of the exalted knowledge which he had acquired from Burke. His writings exhibit most of the excellencies and some of the defects which characterize his speeches. Had he eschewed politics, and devoted himself to literature, he would, probably, have become the greatest author of his age. "With respect to his facility in |