directed to the only rational end it could pursue, namely, the utter destruction of the desperate horde which gave it birth."* "A long war," he wrote emphatically; + "a religious war," as in the colossal madness of his passionate egotism he dared to term it. The wider intellect of Pitt rose superior at first to Burke's terrible apprehensions, and he assured the French Government that England would scrupulously persevere in the neutrality she had hitherto observed with respect to the internal dissensions of France, and would not depart from it unless compelled to do so in self-defence. With a wisdom shared by few of his own followers, he boldly gave his support at this critical time to Fox's Libel Act, which accomplished the liberty of the press by transferring the decision in libel cases from the judge to the jury; whilst he initiated the wise policy of colonial self-government by granting a representative constitution to the two Canadas. It is needless to say that the anti-revolutionist theories found no favour with the Whigs. It was the 4th of May, 1793, which witnessed the final disruption of the party, and its division into Foxites and Burkeites, into Old Whigs and New. In the course of a debate on the Government bill for the better government of the Canadas, Burke rose to speak, and, according to his customary practice, plunged into a torrent of invective against the French Revolution and its leaders. He made a violent attack upon the doctrine set forth in Thomas Paine's "Rights of Man," and then glided away into a highly-coloured description of the * Parliamentary History, xxxi. 427. "Letters on a Regicide Peace." Burke's Works, ii. 291. insults offered by the Parisian rabble to Louis XVI. and the royal family of France. He was called to order, and a scene of intense excitement took place. Fox, starting to his feet, reprimanded him for the irrelevancy of his remarks. "This, however," he said, "was a day of license, on which any gentleman might get up and abuse any Government he pleased. True it was that the French Revolution had no more to do with the question before the House than the Government of Turkey or the laws of Confucius; but what of that?" Burke retorted with vehemence, comparing his position to that of Caylus, the great French orator, and Conservative leader of the French National Assembly, whose speeches were always interrupted by the clamour of the so-called friends of liberty. The cries of "Order!" grew louder, and Fox, Charles Grey, Pitt, and others became involved in an angry conversation. At length Lord Sheffield moved, and Fox seconded, a motion, "that dissertations on the French Constitution, and to read a narrative of the transactions in France, are not regular or orderly on the question; and that the clauses of the Quebec Bill be read a second time." But in seconding this amendment, Fox fell into the very breach of order for which he had censured Burke. He entered upon an animated defence of the principles of the French Revolution; and, contending that the rights of man were and must be the foundation of every social or political system, he observed that he had learned this doctrine from the lips of Burke himself, whom, in passionate words, he accused of betraying his cause and party, and quoting the language employed by Burke at the time of the American war-of drawing an indictment against a whole people. The House was hushed in profound silence, as, pale and agitated, Burke rose to reply. Speaking at first in a low tone, and struggling to subdue his evident excitement, he complained of the bitter personal attack that had been made upon him by one of his oldest friends, and then proceeded to review the political relations which for a quarter of a century had existed between Fox and himself, indicating the few questions on which they had differed, and rejoicing that those differences had not sundered the bonds of their private friendship. It was indiscreet, he said, at his time of life, to provoke enemies or lose friends; but if his steadfast adherence to the British Constitution placed him in such a dilemma, he would risk all, and, as public duty and public prudence taught him, with his last breath exclaim, "Fly from the French Constitution !" In faltering tones, Fox exclaimed, "There is no loss of friendship!" "I regret to say there is," rejoined Burke. "I know the value of my line of conduct. I have indeed made a great sacrifice. I have done my duty, though I have lost my friends. There is something in the detested French Constitution that envenoms everything it touches." And he concluded with a fervid apostrophe to the two great political leaders, beseeching them, whatever their other differences, to unite in guarding the British Constitution against innovations and new theories. Fox was so powerfully moved that, on rising to reply, he could hardly speak at first for tears. In broken tones, while the House listened in sympathetic silence, he made a pathetic appeal to his old and revered friend, reminding him of their ancient friendship, of their reciprocal affection, as dear and almost as binding as the ties of nature between father and son. Burke remained unshaken. On the altar of public duty he had sacrificed his private feelings; and with great earnestness he declared that he could not maintain a friendly intercourse with a man who upheld anarchy and revolution in their most hideous aspects. Thus was the long-tried and close connection of five-andtwenty years" trampled "-to use the words of Wilberforce trampled to pieces in the conflict of a single night." So far as popular opinion was concerned, the evidence soon became unmistakeable that it sided with Burke rather than with the Opposition. Of his "Reflections on the Revolution in France," no fewer than 30,000 copies were sold in a few weeks. It may be doubted whether any literary production-except, perhaps, in our own time, Mr. Gladstone's pamphlet on Bulgarian Horrors"-ever exercised so powerful and immediate an influence on the public mind. I believe it created the prejudice and hostility in England which eventually plunged Europe into a long and sanguinary war, and that the responsibility of that war rests on the shoulders of its author. It has been well said that— "The reputation of the author as the greatest political philosopher of his age; his predilections for freedom, displayed through the whole course of the American Revolution; his hatred of despotic power, as manifested in his unceasing denunciations of atrocities in India; his consistent adherence to Whig principles, as established by the Bill of Rights; this acquaintance with the character and sentiments of Burke first raised an unbounded curiosity to trace the arguments against the struggle for liberty in another country, coming from a man who had so long contended for what was deemed the popular cause at home. The perusal of this remarkable book converted the inquirer into an enthusiast. In proportion as the liberal institutions of our own country were held up to admiration, so were the attempts of France to build up a new system of government upon the ruins of the old system described as the acts of men 'devoted to every description of tyranny and cruelty employed to bring about and to uphold this revolution.”” The great change that came over the caricatures, so popular in those days, as an expression of public opinion, must here be noted. Previously Burke had always been represented in the dress of a Jesuit. Now he was shown as confounding by his oratorical successes, the defenders and apologists of the French Revolution, while Fox appeared in every kind of degrading and offensive attitude and position. To do honour to Burke seemed the leading thought of all sorts and conditions of men. From the University of Dublin he received the degree of Doctor of Laws; the Oxford graduates presented him, through Mr. Windham, with a congratulatory address; the Bishop of Aix, and the expatriated French clergy, poured out their emotions of gratitude and admiration in the most enthusiastic language. His Parliamentary influence had so completely revived that the Irish Roman Catholics requested him to advocate their claims in the House; nor did his exertions prove wholly unsuccessful. The activity of his mind, under the pressure of its new excitement, was surprising; and the interest he took in the great questions of the day appears very strikingly in his pamphlet, entitled "Heads for Consideration on the Present State of Affairs." Burke, however, in spite of all this popular adulation, felt the shame and bitterness of separation from the political party with which he had been so long identified; and he resolved on retiring from parliamentary life so soon as the protracted trial of Hastings came to a |
