Part 10

Of the speeches delivered by Burke, in all several hundred in number, only six of the more important ones have been preserved. These were written out for publication by the orator himself. In point of compass and variety of thought as well as in lofty declamation and withering invective it is probable that the most remarkable of all his efforts was that on the “Nabob of Arcot’s debts.” But it is marked by the author’s greatest faults as well as by his greatest merits. For five hours he poured out the pitiless and deluging torrents of his denunciations; and the reader who now sits down to the task of mastering the speech is as certain to be wearied by it as were the members of the House of Commons when it was delivered. The speech on “Conciliation with America” is marred by fewer blemishes, and its positive merits are of transcendant importance. That this great utterance exerted a vast influence on both sides of the Atlantic admits of no doubt. It is worthy of note, however, that during the greater part of Burke’s political life he was in the opposition, and that by those in power, he was regarded as simply what Lord Lauderdale once called him, “a splendid madman.” To this characterization Fox replied: “It is difficult to say whether he is mad or inspired, but whether the one or the other, every one must agree that he is a _prophet_.” And at a much later period Lord Brougham observed that “All his predictions, except one momentary expression, have been more than fulfilled.”

MR. BURKE.

ON MOVING RESOLUTIONS FOR CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA. HOUSE OF COMMONS, MARCH 22, 1775.

The repeal of the Grenville Stamp Act had not brought a return of friendly feeling, for the reason that the Commons had preferred to adopt the policy of George III. instead of the policy of Pitt. The _right_ to tax America was affirmed in the very act withdrawing the tax. When Lord North came into power he adopted a weak and fatal mixture of concession and coercion. After the destruction of the tea in Boston harbor the policy of coercion became dominant. In 1774, the Charter of Massachusetts was taken away, and the port of Boston was closed to all commerce. The British Government labored under the singular delusion that the inconvenience thus inflicted would bring the colonies at once to terms. It was boldly said that the question was merely one of shillings and pence, and that the colonists would give way as soon as they came to see that their policy entailed a loss. There were a few who held the opposite ground. On the night of April 19, 1774, Mr. Fuller moved to go “into Committee of the whole House to take into consideration the duty of threepence a pound on tea, payable in all his Majesty’s dominions in America.” It was understood that the aim of the motion was the repealing of the Act; and it was in seconding the motion that Mr. Burke made his famous speech on American taxation.

But the policy advocated in the speech was voted down by 182 to 49. Thus the ministry determined to drift on in the old way. It soon became evident, however, that some change was imperatively necessary. The method determined upon by Lord North was an insidious scheme for sowing dissensions among the colonies, and thus breaking that strength which comes from united action. His plan was to offer that whenever a colony, in addition to providing for its own government, should raise a fair proportion for the general defence, and should place this sum at the disposal of Parliament, that colony should be exempted from all further taxation, except such duties as might be necessary for the regulation of commerce. He thus designed to array the colonies against one another, and so open the way for treating with them individually. This was put forward by North as a plan for _conciliation_. While Burke saw clearly the mischief that lurked in the scheme of the ministry, he was anxious to avail himself of the _idea of conciliation_; and with this end in view he brought forward a series of resolutions “to admit the Americans to an equal interest in the British Constitution, and to place them at once on the footing of other Englishmen.” It was in moving these resolutions that the following speech was made.

The method of treatment by the orator is so elaborate, that a brief analysis of the argument may be of service. The speech is divided into two parts: first, Ought we to make concessions? and if so, secondly, What ought we to concede? Under the first head the orator enters with surprising minuteness of detail into an examination of the condition of the colonies. He surveys (1) their population; (2) their commerce; (3) their agriculture, and (4) their fisheries. Having thus determined their material condition, he shows that force cannot hold a people possessing such advantages in subjection to the mother country, if they are inspired with a spirit of liberty. He shows that such a spirit prevails, and examining it, he traces it to six sources: (1) the descent of the people; (2) their forms of government; (3) the religious principles of the North; (4) the social institutions of the South; (5) the peculiarities of their education, and (6) their remoteness from Great Britain. He then sums up the first part, by showing that it is vain to think either (1) of removing these causes, or (2) of regarding them as criminal. Reaching the conclusion then, that conciliation is the true policy, he proceeds to inquire what this concession should be. Obviously it should relate to taxation, since taxation is the cause of the contest. Referring to the earlier history of Ireland, Durham, Chester, and Wales, he shows that in every case, either an independent parliament existed, or the territory was admitted to representation in the English Parliament. He then points out that direct representation of the colonies is impracticable, and he shows the evils that would result from the adoption of Lord North’s scheme. Finally, he reaches the conclusion that Americans ought to be admitted to the privileges of Englishmen—the privilege of contributing whatever they grant to the Crown through their own legislature. To this end he presents six resolutions, with a brief consideration of which he closes the speech.

This brief outline is perhaps enough to show that the speech is remarkable for its logical order, and for its happy grouping of historical facts. But so far from being a collection of mere matters of fact, it is enriched from beginning to end with thoughts and reflections from a brain teeming with ideas on the science of government. It abounds with passages that have always been greatly admired, and the train of argument is not interrupted by the introduction of matter only remotely relevant to the subject in hand. It may be said therefore to have more of the author’s characteristic merits, and fewer of his characteristic defects, than any other of his speeches. Every careful student will probably agree with Sir James Mackintosh in pronouncing it “the most faultless of Mr. Burke’s productions.”

MR. SPEAKER:

I hope, sir, that, notwithstanding the austerity of the chair, your good nature will incline you to some degree of indulgence toward human frailty.[37] You will not think it unnatural that those who have an object depending, which strongly engages their hopes and fears, should be somewhat inclined to superstition. As I came into the House full of anxiety about the event of my motion, I found, to my infinite surprise, that the grand penal bill, by which we had passed sentence on the trade and sustenance of America, is to be returned to us from the other House.[38] I do confess, I could not help looking on this event as a fortunate omen. I look upon it as a sort of providential favor, by which we are put once more in possession of our deliberative capacity, upon a business so very questionable in its nature, so very uncertain in its issue. By the return of this bill, which seemed to have taken its flight forever, we are, at this very instant, nearly as free to choose a plan for our American government, as we were on the first day of the session. If, sir, we incline to the side of conciliation, we are not at all embarrassed (unless we please to make ourselves so) by any incongruous mixture of coercion and restraint. We are therefore called upon, as it were by a superior warning voice, again to attend to America; to attend to the whole of it together; and to review the subject with an unusual degree of care and calmness.

Surely it is an awful subject, or there is none so on this side of the grave. When I first had the honor of a seat in this House, the affairs of that continent pressed themselves upon us as the most important and most delicate object of parliamentary attention. My little share in this great deliberation oppressed me. I found myself a partaker in a very high trust; and having no sort of reason to rely on the strength of my natural abilities for the proper execution of that trust, I was obliged to take more than common pains to instruct myself in every thing which relates to our colonies. I was not less under the necessity of forming some fixed ideas concerning the general policy of the British empire. Something of this sort seemed to be indispensable, in order, amid so vast a fluctuation of passions and opinions, to concentre my thoughts; to ballast my conduct; to preserve me from being blown about by every wind of fashionable doctrine. I really did not think it safe or manly, to have fresh principles to seek upon every fresh mail which should arrive from America.

At that period I had the fortune to find myself in perfect concurrence with a large majority in this House.[39] Bowing under that high authority, and penetrated with the sharpness and strength of that early impression, I have continued ever since in my original sentiments without the least deviation. Whether this be owing to an obstinate perseverance in error, or to a religious adherence to what appears to me truth and reason, it is in your equity to judge.

Sir, Parliament having an enlarged view of objects, made, during this interval, more frequent changes in their sentiment and their conduct than could be justified in a particular person upon the contracted scale of private information. But though I do not hazard any thing approaching to a censure on the motives of former Parliaments to all those alterations, one fact is undoubted—that under them the state of America has been kept in continual agitation. Everything administered as remedy to the public complaint, if it did not produce, was at least followed by, a heightening of the distemper; until, by a variety of experiments, that important country has been brought into her present situation—a situation which I will not miscall, which I dare not name, which I scarcely know how to comprehend in the terms of any description.

In this posture, sir, things stood at the beginning of the session. About that time, a worthy member of great parliamentary experience, who, in the year 1766, filled the chair of the American committee with much ability, took me aside, and, lamenting the present aspect of our politics, told me things were come to such a pass that our former methods of proceeding in the House would be no longer tolerated. That the public tribunal (never too indulgent to a long and unsuccessful opposition) would now scrutinize our conduct with unusual severity. That the very vicissitudes and shiftings of ministerial measures, instead of convicting their authors of inconstancy and want of system, would be taken as an occasion of charging us with a predetermined discontent, which nothing could satisfy; while we accused every measure of vigor as cruel, and every proposal of lenity as weak and irresolute. The public, he said, would not have patience to see us play the game out with our adversaries: we must produce our hand. It would be expected that those who, for many years, had been active in such affairs, should show that they had formed some clear and decided idea of the principles of colony government, and were capable of drawing out something like a platform of the ground which might be laid for future and permanent tranquillity.

I felt the truth of what my honorable friend represented, but I felt my situation too. His application might have been made with far greater propriety to many other gentlemen. No man was, indeed, ever better disposed or worse qualified for such an undertaking than myself. Though I gave so far into his opinion that I immediately threw my thoughts into a sort of parliamentary form, I was by no means equally ready to produce them. It generally argues some degree of natural impotence of mind, or some want of knowledge of the world, to hazard plans of government, except from a seat of authority.[40] Propositions are made, not only ineffectually, but somewhat disreputably, when the minds of men are not properly disposed for their reception; and, for my part, I am not ambitious of ridicule—not absolutely a candidate for disgrace.

Besides, sir, to speak the plain truth, I have in general no very exalted opinion of the virtue of paper government, nor of any politics in which the plan is to be wholly separated from the execution. But when I saw that anger and violence prevailed every day more and more, and that things were hastening toward an incurable alienation of our colonies, I confess my caution gave way. I felt this as one of those few moments in which decorum yields to a higher duty. Public calamity is a mighty leveller, and there are occasions when any, even the slightest, chance of doing good, must be laid hold on, even by the most inconsiderable person.

To restore order and repose to an empire so great and so distracted as ours, is merely in the attempt an undertaking that would ennoble the flights of the highest genius, and obtain pardon for the efforts of the meanest understanding. Struggling a good while with these thoughts, by degrees I felt myself more firm. I derived, at length, some confidence from what in other circumstances usually produces timidity. I grew less anxious, even from the idea of my own insignificance. For, judging of what you are by what you ought to be, I persuaded myself that you would not reject a reasonable proposition because it had nothing but its reason to recommend it. On the other hand, being totally destitute of all shadow of influence, natural or adventitious, I was very sure that if my proposition were futile or dangerous—if it were weakly conceived or improperly timed, there was nothing exterior to it of power to awe, dazzle, or delude you. You will see it just as it is, and you will treat it just as it deserves.

The PROPOSITION is peace.[41] Not peace through the medium of war; not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endless negotiations; not peace to arise out of universal discord, fomented from principle, in all parts of the empire; not peace to depend on the juridical determination of perplexing questions, or the precise marking the shadowy boundaries of a complex government. It is simple peace, sought in its natural course and its ordinary haunts. It is peace sought in the spirit of peace, and laid in principles purely pacific. I propose, by removing the ground of the difference, and by restoring _the former unsuspecting confidence of the colonies in the mother country_,[42] to give permanent satisfaction to your people; and, far from a scheme of ruling by discord, to reconcile them to each other in the same act, and by the bond of the very same interest, which reconciles them to British government.

My idea is nothing more. Refined policy ever has been the parent of confusion, and ever will be so as long as the world endures. Plain good intention, which is as easily discovered at the first view as fraud is surely detected at last, is (let me say) of no mean force in the government of mankind. Genuine simplicity of heart is a healing and cementing principle. My plan, therefore, being formed upon the most simple grounds imaginable, may disappoint some people when they hear it. It has nothing to recommend it to the pruriency of curious ears. There is nothing at all new and captivating in it. It has nothing of the splendor of the project which has been lately laid upon your table by the noble Lord in the blue ribbon.[43] It does not propose to fill your lobby with squabbling colony agents, who will require the interposition of your mace at every instant to keep the peace among them. It does not institute a magnificent auction of finance, where captivated provinces come to general ransom by bidding against each other, until you knock down the hammer, and determine a proportion of payments beyond all the powers of algebra to equalize and settle.

The plan which I shall presume to suggest derives, however, one great advantage from the proposition and registry of that noble Lord’s project. The idea of conciliation is admissible. First, the House, in accepting the resolution moved by the noble Lord, has admitted, notwithstanding the menacing front of our address,[44] notwithstanding our heavy bill of pains and penalties, that we do not think ourselves precluded from all ideas of free grace and bounty.

The House has gone farther; it has declared conciliation admissible, _previous_ to any submission on the part of America. It has even shot a good deal beyond that mark, and has admitted that the complaints of our former mode of exerting the right of taxation were not wholly unfounded. That right, thus exerted, is allowed to have had something reprehensible in it, something unwise, or something grievous; since, in the midst of our heat and resentment, we, of ourselves, have proposed a capital alteration, and, in order to get rid of what seemed so very exceptionable, have instituted a mode that is altogether new; one that is, indeed, wholly alien from all the ancient methods and forms of Parliament.

The _principle_ of this proceeding is large enough for my purpose. The means proposed by the noble Lord for carrying his ideas into execution, I think, indeed, are very indifferently suited to the end; and this I shall endeavor to show you before I sit down. But, for the present, I take my ground on the admitted principle. I mean to give peace. Peace implies reconciliation; and, where there has been a material dispute, reconciliation does in a manner always imply concession on the one part or on the other. In this state of things I make no difficulty in affirming that the proposal ought to originate from us. Great and acknowledged force is not impaired, either in effect or in opinion, by an unwillingness to exert itself. The superior power may offer peace with honor and with safety. Such an offer from such a power will be attributed to magnanimity. But the concessions of the weak are the concessions of fear. When such a one is disarmed, he is wholly at the mercy of his superior, and he loses forever that time and those chances which, as they happen to all men, are the strength and resources of all inferior power.

The capital leading questions on which you must this day decide, are these two: _First, whether you ought to concede; and, secondly, what your concession ought to be_.

On the first of these questions we have gained, as I have just taken the liberty of observing to you, some ground. But I am sensible that a good deal more is still to be done. Indeed, sir, to enable us to determine both on the one and the other of these great questions with a firm and precise judgment, I think it may be necessary to consider distinctly.

The true _nature_ and the peculiar _circumstances_ of the object which we have before us; because, after all our struggle, whether we will or not, we must govern America according to that nature and to those circumstances, and not according to our imaginations; not according to abstract ideas of right; by no means according to mere general theories of government, the resort to which appears to me, in our present situation, no better than arrant trifling. I shall therefore endeavor, with your leave, to lay before you some of the most material of these circumstances in as full and as clear a manner as I am able to state them.

(1) The first thing that we have to consider with regard to the nature of the object, is the number of people in the colonies. I have taken for some years a good deal of pains on that point. I can by no calculation justify myself in placing the number below two millions of inhabitants of our own European blood and color, besides at least five hundred thousand others, who form no inconsiderable part of the strength and opulence of the whole. This, sir, is, I believe, about the true number. There is no occasion to exaggerate, where plain truth is of so much weight and importance. But whether I put the present numbers too high or too low, is a matter of little moment. Such is the strength with which population shoots in that part of the world, that, state the numbers as high as we will, while the dispute continues, the exaggeration ends. While we are discussing any given magnitude, they are grown to it. While we spend our time in deliberating on the mode of governing two millions, we shall find we have two millions more to manage. Your children do not grow faster from infancy to manhood, than they spread from families to communities, and from villages to nations.[45]

I put this consideration of the present and the growing numbers in the front of our deliberation; because, sir, this consideration will make it evident to a blunter discernment than yours, that no partial, narrow, contracted, pinched, occasional system will be at all suitable to such an object. It will show you that it is not to be considered as one of those _minima_[46] which are out of the eye and consideration of the law; not a paltry excrescence of the state; not a mean dependent, who may be neglected with little damage, and provoked with little danger. It will prove that some degree of care and caution is required in the handling such an object; it will show that you ought not, in reason, to trifle with so large a mass of the interests and feelings of the human race. You could at no time do so without guilt; and, be assured, you will not be able to do it long with impunity.

But the population of this country, the great and growing population, though a very important consideration, will lose much of its weight, if not combined with other circumstances. The commerce of your colonies is out of all proportion beyond the numbers of the people. This ground of their commerce, indeed, has been trod some days ago, and with great ability, by a distinguished person at your bar.[47] This gentleman, after thirty-five years—it is so long since he appeared at the same place to plead for the commerce of Great Britain—has come again before you to plead the same cause, without any other effect of time, than that, to the fire of imagination and extent of erudition which even then marked him as one of the first literary characters of his age, he has added a consummate knowledge in the commercial interest of his country, formed by a long course of enlightened and discriminating experience.

Sir, I should be inexcusable in coming after such a person with any detail, if a great part of the members who now fill the House had not the misfortune to be absent when he appeared at your bar. Besides, sir, I propose to take the matter at periods of time somewhat different from his. There is, if I mistake not, a point of view, from whence, if you will look at this subject, it is impossible that it should not make an impression upon you.