by Edmund Burke
These Things stand upon grounds totally different; the desire of independency, like every other motive to war, must be judged of by the proceedings previous to that event.
For instance, I can conceive a case, in which Scotland might take up arms, Scotland might defend the terms of the treaty of union, even against the unlimitable authority of Parliament, which that treaty, by
“a preposterous parade of civil arrangements,”
certainly does affect to limit. I can conceive in argument, that acts of parliament might pass to exclude the sixteen Peers of Scotland from their seats in the House of Lords — or to alter the present happy establishment of the Church of Scotland — or to change her laws for those of England — or on the plea of her increase of trade and wealth, to raise the proportion of their land-tax. I can conceive too the possibility, that many Murrays, many Humes, many Campbells, many Stuarts, many Wedderburnes, many Dundasses, and many Elliotts, might take up arms in favour of those limitations of the power of Parliament, which the act of Union affects to establish; and not contenting themselves with defending Sterling, and blocking up Edinburgh, they might enter England, and lay siege to Berwick, or penetrate to Newcastle. But I should not therefore infer, that our Northern Kinsmen, who thus took up arms, were aiming at an independency, which would deprive so many of them of the well-earned emoluments, which are the consequence of their connection with England.
If such a case were to happen, I venture to assure Lord Mansfield, that I, and many Englishmen of far other consequence, would hear him plead in favour of peace, and for those rebels in 1776, with as much approbation, as we felt when he pleaded for justice against other rebels in 1746. If any Lord, heated with faction, or intoxicated with Court favour, should then tell him in debate, that Englishmen were not to look at the justice of the cause — that we must not distinguish the innocent from the guilty — that his countrymen had acted on the offensive — that if we did not kill them, they would kill us! — we might pardon such a Lord his prejudice, from our indulgence to his zeal; but we could never be brought to approve of his temper, or to adopt his opinions.
If another Lord at the expence of his candour and judgement, should chuse to display his knowledge in history, and recapitulate all the ravages of the Scotch from the earliest times; their natural adherence to our natural enemy, France; their fierce struggles for independency, notwithstanding the well-proved rights of our ancient Kings — If a third (for such a load of calumny would be too great for the shoulders of any two ordinary orators) should carry down the story to the present day; if he should state the design of a separate settlement of their crown in favour of the Pretender, from which their Chiefs were brought off with so much difficulty, and at so great an expence; if this odious remembrancer should then revive the memory of the two rebellions since the act of Union, for the purpose of destroying that union, all this might sound plausible to some prejudiced ears; but I think in well disposed minds, it would excite the strongest indignation. I should rejoice to hear the thunder of that eloquence which Lord Mansfield would certainly hurl at the unfeeling sophistry of this unjust, invidious, and plausible kind of argument against peace. He would have the hearts and applauses of all true Englishmen. True Englishmen would not fear that Scotland would be made ungovernable by our lenity; they would readily trust to the fraternal affection of our Scotch brethren for a restoration of lasting peace; and with it, the rich Commerce of that country, and the service and society of those few of its natives, who might not think fit to repass the Tweed, to enjoy at home the sweets of that liberty which their valour had purchased for their country.
In this manner I should reason on a Scotch rebellion growing from such a principle. I mean a rebellion for preserving themselves in a state of freedom; not a rebellion for the purpose of reducing themselves and us to a common slavery. I cannot avoid applying the same reasonings to America. I would endeavour to make peace with both on the avowed ground of the war; and I persuade myself, that whatever the language of a few North-Britons about the Court, or expecting to get about the Court, may be, the body of the Scotch nation think and argue as I do.
I have no right to endeavour at discovering by divination the secret motives of any man’s conduct; whilst the ostensible are such as may fairly influence an honest and a reasonable man. To support in argument, that independency was the original object of American resistance, we must assume, or prove, that they had no colourable complaint or grievance. Lord Mansfield has too much honour and good sense to assert, that there was nothing colourable or plausible in their objection to their being taxed, in their circumstances and situation, without their consent. The practice on our side may, for aught I know, be reconciled to principles of strict formal law; but we all know it can never be reconciled to any principles of liberty. The Question is then, whether an attempt to govern them contrary to the principles of liberty, could be a real cause of quarrel, or was so idle and frivolous, as to oblige us to search for some other ground of their conduct.
Whatever the first cause was, or whatever disorders arose from it, the Americans did not go to extremities upon that. It is some proof of their not having premeditated a scheme of independency, that they waited for several other grievances before they took up arms.
Boston lost its port, and the Colony of Massachusett’s Bay forfeited its Charter — justly says Lord Mansfield, but certainly without charge, evidence or hearing. Men consider the right of being heard, as of some import in justice; if it be not, Lord Mansfield’s office must become a finecure. Among other human frailties, men have a natural love for their local constitutions and particular privileges. We must allow that (however merited) the loss of a favourite form of Government will be considered and felt as a very great hardship. Nations have thought an arbitrary and compulsory change, even of habits, to be grievous. A form of government changed, is a matter of somewhat more consequence than the compulsory deprivation of a flapped hat at Madrid, or being stripped of the plaid, and forced into breeches in the Highlands.
The bringing the persons of the Americans to trial in England, by a revival and extension of a Statute of Henry the VIIIth; and the sending them by an original act of George the IIId, to England, to look for justice on any soldier or Custom-House Officer who should commit murder on their relation, — these have also something of the air of a grievance. I shall say nothing of the Act for preventing their Fishery, or of that for prohibiting all intercourse between Colony and Colony, — all these have surely so much the air of hardships (I mean to those who suffer under them) that I should be much less surprised to find a people at length provoked to independency by such acts, than I am to hear them accused of originally scheming that independency because they resisted them. Men are not always ready to humble themselves even before their Creator, and to acknowledge his punishments for tokens of loving-kindness. With men they are more inclined to dispute; and the arguments which perfectly satisfy those who are in haste to inflict punishment, are not quite so convincing to those who are to suffer it.
All those laws (which look severe even in cold reading) preceded the commencement of hostilities, offesinve or defensive. It is not true, that a desire of free subjection is in nature the same thing with a scheme of independence; and we may suppose men earnest to preserve privileges, without rejecting government.
The Colonies, like others who have engaged in wars with their Sovereign, had therefore their grievance. But there the likeness stops; for there are perhaps no instances on record of a people in such a situation, who have persevered with such a pertinacious humility, in repeating their supplications for redress. There are few or no instances of men in arms against the ordinary Authority, who have so long confined their applications solely to their own sovereign. Scarce any, where they have religiously avoided all caballing and tampering with foreign Powers. None where they have so nobly paid their debts to the commerce of that power, with which they were at war. Whatever power we have of subsisting without them, or of acting against them,
is owing in a great measure to their desire of avoiding a final rupture with us. Men aiming at independency could never have acted in this manner.
Why, in common sense, should we be more irritated against the Colonist than against other nations? or why should we use other rules to prevent pacification, than we use towards a foreign power? I should be glad to know whether this mode of reasoning concerning old delinquency, or modern ill design, was adopted at the late treaty of Paris? Did the late Duke of Bedford’s instructions oblige him to a discussion of the motives of France and Spain for half a century back? I don’t find that our Court has received any satisfaction on that head. If the zeal and industry of Sir John Dalrymple, or Mr. Macpherson have made any discovery in this curious mode of negotiation, they will favour the world with a new quarto volume for the information of future Statesmen. In the mean time, I must think, that I do Justice to the late Duke of Bedford (a Man of sense, and a good practical man of business) in supposing that he troubled himself with no idle enquiries that could obstruct the work of pacification. I do not hear that Lord Mansfield has ever accused that Duke of a neglect duty.
But we must not treat with Rebels! What history is it that supplies us with this maxim? Lord Mansfield will allow, that the war against Charles the First was a rebellion; Lord Clarendon, I believe, stiles it by pre-eminence the great rebellion, — does the history of that time supply us with no treaty between Charles the First and the people in arms against him? Go to earlier times. How was the contest between Stephen and Henry? Stephen was considered as an usurper, and perhaps he was so. He treated Henry’s partizans as rebels; but these harsh names of Rebel and Usurper never prevented negotiation. Treaty and battle went on, as it were, hand in hand; and at last the contest ended in a compromise.
The short and violent rebellion of Wat Tyler, short as it was, yet afforded time for treating, and that too by the King in person. Does the Scotch History supply no instances of treaties between the rebellious Lords and their Kings? All histories are full of them. Government often finds it safer to treat with her subjects, and to yield too, than to risk the uncertain event of arms.
But in all wars foreign or civil, in all disputes public or private, it is utterly impossible to terminate a controversy while one of the litigant parties chuses to assume a sort of supernatural talent of discovering the motives of mens actions; and loftily tells his adversary,
“I dont value your offers and professions. I know you mean what you dont say; and I will not treat with you on the avowed and apparent cause of the quarrel, until my curiosity is satisfied upon the ground of a suspicion which I am resolved to entertain.”
I am persuaded that this learned Lord would not argue so inconclusively, or waste his breath upon a point not in issue, if the real object of Ministry was to terminate the dispute. What his Lordship’s object is, I who take the liberty of complaining of his faculty of divination, and who am, by no means, provided with the endless line of his sagacity in fathoming the motives of men, do not at all know, — and certainly dare not guess. But the effect of the conduct of his friends in pertinaciously continuing and weakly conducting a war without an object, will inevitably operate to the dismemberment of the British Empire.
VALENS.
LETTER XII. THE GAZETTE.
Thursday, June 9, 1776.
MR. MILLER,
IN my paper of the 20th of January last, I compleated, to the best of my power, the little plan I had originally formed. I had proposed to take a view of the policy of the American war; its objects; its conduct; and the motives for engaging in it. When this was done, being no politician by profession, I laid down my pen. I resume it for a moment, in order to make a few remarks upon the manner in which the Ministry have handled their’s. I have formerly endeavoured to do justice to their merit as Statesmen; I am now to consider their skill as writers.
As all men have their virtues a little balanced by some failings, it is surely a good-natured part not to dwell upon the qualities they are deficient in, but rather to fix our attention on those points of their character, in which they evidently excell. I should think it the cruellest thing in the world to dwell upon Lord George Germain’s conduct of the civil war; but I am happy to join with the world in applauding his Lordship’s dexterous management of the Gazette.
Whilst under his auspices, and animated by his example, our commanders, by happily shifting of their position, by taking the resolution of evacuating towns, and by effecting retreats without loss, are (though quite in a new way) conquering Provinces abroad; his Lordship is employed, according to the soundest principles of the best critics, in recording their great exploits at home.
Livy has been censured as diffuse; Sallust, Thucydides, and Tacitus, have been criticized for an affected brevity, bordering on the obscure. These general remarks savour of pedantry, and meer literary cant. To judge of the faults or excellence of the diffuse, or the concise, of the perspicuous, or the obscure styles, we must consider well the nature of the subject, and the design of the author. No universal rule can be laid down. Some things cannot be displayed too amply, and too minutely to the public curiosity. Others had better be just touched upon. Some should shine in a glare of light; others should be cast modestly into the shade. Some ought to be proclaimed by the sound of trumpet; others there are, in which silence is the real eloquence.
If you would know how well Lord George Germain has employed all these styles (and this no style) you must consider the end and purpose for which (besides fame and immortality) a Secretary of State condescends to become an author.
The world at large is not aware of the real object of our war in America. The sole drift and end of all our operations there, has hitherto been, neither more nor less, than to dispose of the sums of money that have been raised here. These have been vast; and the dispersion of them has not been so perfectly easy, as the common run of people might imagine. But, by the aid of our kind and disinterested friends, (the London contractors, and the German Princes) the thing may be done. The facility however, of the expenditure, may not always facilitate the supply. A great Statesman, like other ingenious artists, must tickle the ear, whilst he extracts the purse. The mob out of doors love a little good news, though it be at their own cost. A victory is worth a million; and a good bonfire compensates a tax. The wise Minister (like the industrious ant) forecasts the winter, and prepares the mind for the ways and means of the session, by the intelligence with which he entertains us during the recess. In the execution of this plan, he strictly follows the great masters of antiquity.
The polite critic of the Court of Augustus, Horace, was intended by that great Emperor (not so happy in obtaining obedience to his commands as our Sovereign) for the office of Secretary of State. Whilst that business was in agitation, he wrote those excellent rules for Gazettes, which have been unaccountably mistaken for the rules of dramatic poetry. A gross error! for what has a Secretary of State to do with writing tragedies? Or how can we imagine that Horace, after commanding a Roman legion, and distinguishing himself in war, should condescend to undertake the direction of the opera? The Gazette is the proper business of his department. Besides the observations on style that I have just made, and which I confess I borrowed from this great judge, he makes several others of moment. He advises his Gazette writer to mix his falshood with some truth, ita mentitur (says he) ut veris falsa remiscet. And he gives his reason, and a very solid one,
Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepat imum.
He recommends it to them to put off, and to bring on matters, as may best suit political purposes.
Ut uunc dicat jam nunc debentia dici,
Pleraque differat, et presens in tempus omittat.
But if facts prove so very untractable, as by no art of mixture or procrastination, to be made pleasant, why then he thinks they are to be totally omitted.
— Quae
Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit.
To exemplify in the most satisfactory manner his Lordship’s skill in c
onducting his Gazette upon these rules, the reader may remember the ample account we had of the exploits of Lord Dunmore. Not one captive piece was omitted of those miserable old cannon, which, until they were to
“open their mouths, and shew forth his praise,”
had slept and rusted in neglect on the wharfs of Virginia. All the pompous display of Livy and Clarendon, were employed to decorate the triumph of this favourite General. After this great and decisive advantage obtained by Lord Dunmore (as far as we could discover from the Gazette) we had nothing to do, but to take possession of a disarmed Province. The gratitude of the nation was equal to the services of the General. His Lordship was immortalized in the Gazette. He was adopted into the sacred sixteen, levees, assemblies, coffeehouses, all agreed (and they were certainly right) that if every Governor had acted with the spirit of Lord Dunmore, we must have established our dominion in all the other Provinces, as perfectly as we had done in Virginia.
In the midst of all the joy that arose from such important victories as Lord Dunmore’s, so amply displayed, an odd sort of an account arrived. A very brave officer, as brave and as intelligent an officer as any in the King’s service, Major Fordyce, with a detachment of our best grenadiers, was sent by this heroic Commander Lord Dunmore, upon a well-planned expedition, to which there were but two small objections. One, that it was perfectly impracticable; the other, that if it did succeed, it could be of no kind of use. Accordingly Major Fordyce was killed. The party was defeated; all the grenadiers slain or made prisoners — What said the lately communicative Gazette? Not a syllable. The Secretary of State had wasted his stock of eloquence in his Panegyric on Lord Dunmore. He had nothing left for the funeral oration of Fordyce. He was as silent as the grave in which that gallant officer and his brave soldiers were laid. And where was the necessity for much discourse? The man was dead; and what did it signify to put ourselves into an ill humour about what we could not possibly help.