by Edmund Burke
In this situation of things, Mr. Burke was of opinion, that our Ambassador ought not to be an idle spectator of such scenes at the Court of a Monarch, who was in effect a prisoner; that he ought to be recalled, or to interpose the good-offices of our Court between Louis the XVIth and his seditious subjects, agreeably to our duty under the general law of nations, and the spirit of our positive treaties. On this plan he drew up
“Hints for a Memorial to be delivered to M. Montmorin,”
by Lord Gower.
Whether these Hints were ever actually seen by the King’s Ministers, there is no trace among his papers to shew, neither can those friends, from whom he was accustomed to conceal nothing, undertake to say from their recollection. It is probable, that they were not seen, as at that period he had no direct intercourse with Government, and events soon ensued in France, which left no room for such a mediation. The paper, however, will be printed at the end of this Preface: it was discovered too late to be inserted, where it ought to have stood in the body of this publication. It will bear a strong, but not the only, testimony to the Author’s real practical views, which have been so malignantly misrepresented, with regard to the French Revolution. However much he disapproved and contemned the false and treacherous principles, since renounced even by themselves, in which it glorified itself at it’s outset; however early he warned his own country of their pernicious tendency, and the steady and uniform march of their operation to break down a flourishing Monarchy into a hideous barbarism; however feelingly his nature detested the cruelties and atrocities of all kinds, with which their progress was systematically accompanied, for the purpose of crushing all opposition under the dominion of terrour; yet while there appeared to him a chance of any quiet termination to these miseries and horrours, his counsels were moderate, conciliatory, and healing. The very basis of any agreement which the King of Great Britain, as the King of a people
“perfectly and solidly, because soberly, rationally and legally free,”
could undertake to negociate, was to be the settlement, and, if required, the guarantee of a free constitution in France, but under an efficient Monarchy; both their government and their freedom being established
“upon principles of moderation, as the only means of securing permanence to both these blessings, as well as internal and external tranquillity to the kingdom of France, and to all Europe”
It will hereafter appear from his letters that, at a later period in the same year, he held a very similar language to the exiled French Princes and their agents, when they were preparing to assert their rights by the sword. We must now pass to the three Memorials, which form the immediate contents of this pamphlet.
The King of France in the April of that year was prevented by the populace, with every kind of menace and outrage, from going to his Palace at St. Cloud. He complained to the National Assembly. The result was that he was compelled to sanction a circular letter, which was soon after sent by M. Montmorin to all foreign Courts, announcing the new Constitution of France, it’s nature, and principles. This was followed by new indignities and encreased licentiousness, by the flight to Montmedi, the actual custody of the Royal Family, the mockery of revising the Constitution, and the final acceptance of it by the King, which was notified in another circular letter from M. Montmorin. By these two official communications, unprecedented in diplomacy, the right of considering the internal Constitution of France was not only given to other States, if they had no such right before, but their attention was directly called to the subject. Nor was the purpose of the communications concealed. It was professedly to lead to similar Revolutions in other countries. When the first of these extraordinary dispatches was originally submitted to the Assembly, long before any concert of Princes against France, it was enthusiastically applauded as
“a splendid example of a great King proclaiming afar the liberty of all people.”
It was, in fact, a general defiance to all the old Governments of Europe.
Mr. Burke had particular means of knowing the dispositions of the continental Powers. His son during that summer was at Coblentz, though not at the expence, nor with the formal authority, yet with the knowledge and approbation of Government. He was early convinced that the Declaration signed at Pilnitz by the Emperor and the King of Prussia was in a manner extorted by the Count d’Artois, and was never designed to be carried into serious effect. The King of Prussia refused to stir, till the Emperor should have put himself in motion: and the Emperor hesitated to move from a real or pretended distrust of this country. In general, the neighbouring Potentates seemed for a long time blind to the peril of their situation, and when the audacity of Brissot’s faction, as soon as he had established his ascendency in the second Assembly, made them reluctantly open their eyes, they were struck with a sudden dread, from which they sought refuge in submission.
At home Mr. Burke found as little agreement with his views. Those •••…ers of Opposition, who in reality did not differ much from him, naturally wished to avoid as long as they could, any question that might precipitate a direct breach with some others of the same party, who from a long connexion stood high in their confidence, and were dear to their affections. Between Ministers and himself he believed there was a more essential difference. He understood them to think (as he afterwards told one of them)
“that the new principles might be encouraged; that they might triumph over every interior and exterior resistance, and even overturn other States, as they had that of France, without any sort of hazard, that they would extend in their consequences to this kingdom.”
His own opinion thus early was, that there never existed a crisis so important to the world; that the power of France, which the preceding year had seen in a manner annihilated by her internal anarchy, now appeared more formidable than ever; that all hope of a quiet settlement to the disorders of that distracted country was gone; that the more furious part of the Jacobin faction, who from the first had been eager to disturb the peace of all Europe, was daily encreasing in strength and solidity; and as France had not then re-established her army after it’s dissolution by decrees and intrigues, while the northern powers had not yet begun to disband their forces after the Turkish war, that every thing was to be gained to the former, every thing lost to the latter by delay.
Under these impressions he wrote the Memorial of December 1791. It was sent to some of the leaders of Opposition, and to the Ministers, by one of whom it was communicated to the King. The style and the topicks are those of a statesman addressing statesmen. It takes it’s rise from M. Montmorin’s two letters. It points out the features and character which distinguish this Revolution from most others of ancient or modern times: it delineates with a masterly hand the political map of Europe, and marks with wonderful precision the track which the new principles were likely to pursue in their progress: it combats the supposition that the Revolution would fall by it’s own weakness, by internal force, or the discredit of it’s paper money: it considers the dispositions of the neighbouring powers, who were most interested in stopping the course of the mischief, and the general leaning of all Kings, Ambassadors, and Ministers of State in these days; but it modestly professes only to make a case without offering advice, to shew the nature of the evil, without suggesting a remedy. His country, the world, and posterity, will now be able to judge how far his speculations on this great question of politicks were just:
“the paper,” he conceived at the time, “did not meet the ideas of Ministers.”
The invasion of France by the Duke of Brunswick in 1792, after the French had declared war, and been repulsed in an attack on the Netherlands, excited the most sanguine hopes of many. Mr. Burke, it is known to those who conversed with him, and will appear by some of his letters, always distrusted the event. Besides the incalculable difference which time had made, he saw a radical error in not giving more importance and lead to the exiled Princes and Nobility of France. He had from the first a settled conviction that neither insurrections
of the Royalists within, nor a foreign force from without, could separately avail. There was no sound hope, in his judgment, but from a well-combined, and cordial co-operation of both. On the disastrous and ignominious retreat of the Duke of Brunswick, he hastily threw down his thoughts in an unformal manner, and submitted them to the consideration of those who had seen the former paper. He now proceeded further, and intimated in general terms, what he thought should be done for the safety of Europe. Upon all maxims of ancient policy, upon all views of the actual circumstances, he was decided in his opinion, that England should interpose as the protectress of the balance of power. It was essential, he thought, that she should be the presiding soul of that concert, which seemed to be now indispensable; that she should govern it’s counsels, and direct it’s efforts; she should negociate and confederate, exhort on one side, and remonstrate on the other; she should not precipitate a war, but risk it, and firmly meet it, for the safety of Europe. But before this paper had been communicated to those for whose use it was intended, the French Convention ventured on decrees and acts directly striking at this country, and her old ally Holland. A sort of unofficial negociation ensued, which ended in a declaration of war by the French Republick against Great Britain and Holland. Thus forced separately into open hostility, Ministers were under the necessity of joining the Powers already in arms, on their own conditions. They could not take that lead which, Mr. Burke believed, might have been conceded to them as the price of their voluntary interposition.
After the first successes of 1793, Mr. Burke was cursorily informed in a conversation with one of the King’s Ministers, that they purposed to issue a declaration of the motives, objects, and end of the war. Sometime in the subsequent autumn, he heard again of the same design. He doubted the prudence and expediency of the measure, especially at that time, just after our retreat from Dunkirk. He sought, but was not able to obtain, a conference on the subject.
He had recourse, therefore, to his pen. This was the origin of the third memorial. Accordingly at the head of one of the copies found in his possession, it was called,
“Thoughts respectfully submitted on the proposed Manifesto;”
though it was endorsed with the present title. He had not, however, proceeded far before he learnt that the Declaration was to be immediately issued. He desired it might be delayed a single day, that he might have an opportunity of previously stating his doubts; but was told that no alteration could be admitted, as the paper had been approved by the allied Courts.
The Memorial in consequence lay for some time unfinished. But some agents of the Royalists of Britanny and Poitou having about that period prevailed on Mr. Burke to second their representations to Government with his influence, and the surrender of Toulon having made an opening in their favour, he resumed what he had laid aside, and completed it upon a more comprehensive plan. It seems in it’s style and spirit to approach more nearly, than either of the other two Memorials, to the animation and decision of his own former publications. It begins by stating the time to be that of calamity and defeat. When it proceeds to the main consideration, it paints with a firm but rapid pencil the miserable situation of France under the reign of Roberspierre and terrour, the full effects of which Mr. Burke confesses himself not to have foreseen. The whole nation was divided into the oppressors and the oppressed. He then argues that the very success of the Allies on their own plan would not restore France to a condition safe for herself and for Europe, and he ultimately ventures to give his own advice. Perhaps, if there is any passage in it more especially deserving of attention than another, it is the noble scheme of awful, but discriminating justice, tempered with enlightened mercy, which he recommends and enforces, in the event of the Monarchy, and ancient orders of the State being once more restored in France. The Memorial concludes with an emphatick protest against what he always considered as the great, fruitful source of every miscarriage, the great leading mistake, that of conducting the war, by precedent, as a common war against a common enemy, for the usual objects of ordinary appeals to arms, and searching history for lessons of civil prudence, to be derived from former Revolutions, which resembled this portent of our times in nothing but the name.
In every one of these three Memorials reference is made to the writers on the law of nations; and in one or two places Vattel is expressly named. It has been thought proper, therefore, to subjoin an Appendix, consisting of passages from that eminent publicist, which were found among Mr. Burke’s papers, drawn out for his private use under distinct heads, as they are here printed, and illustrated in his hand-writing with marginal comments and short notes, which are here preserved. Some few notes have been added to complete his plan. Even these are not wholly without his authority. They are the faint vestiges of much discourse had with him at different times on the effect and application of the extracts. A genius like his, rich in so much natural and acquired wealth, might be supposed to have been confident in itself. Yet this was the laborious and accurate method which to the end of his life he was habituated to pursue, in collecting and digesting the best information upon every subject that occupied his mind; working upon all, and ever mingling up with it something of his own.
In explaining and connecting the history of the three Memorials, nothing, it is hoped, has been said, which can be construed to imply a censure on those who direct the affairs of this kingdom. They may have formed to themselves a wiser system of action, and been defeated in it by accidents, which could neither be foreseen nor controuled; they may have unwillingly compromised in their counsels with the irresistible force of circumstances, and been compelled to adopt a system which they knew to be imperfect; they may even, by attempting less, have actually done more. These are questions too extensive and important for this place. All that it seems proper to say here, is simply, that whatever may have been their system, and the merits of that system, it was not that of Mr. Burke. And thus much is due to his memory, and to truth. Whatever has been the failure of the war, it is in no manner to be ascribed to him: the time and mode of beginning it were not his choice: the plan of operations for conducting it was not his suggestion: and the declaration of principles, on which it has been justified, was not made by his advice, nor with his concurrence. Neither did he flatter those in power by a silent acquiescence in a course of policy which he did not approve. According to his practice, in more instances than one, during his opposition to Lord North’s Administration,
“he chose rather,” as he has said, “respectfully to state a doubt to Ministers whilst a measure was depending, than to reproach them afterwards with it’s consequences.”
In truth, he who never used any solicitation to advance his own personal interests, was indefatigable in soliciting support to that cause, which he considered as the common interest of mankind. There was no person of rank or eminence in Europe with whom he had any occasion of correspondence, that he did not endeavour to conciliate, confirm, or animate on the side of religion, morals, and social order, connected with moderated liberty. He applied to each the several topicks which were best suited to his circumstances, his condition, his prejudices, or his wants, but all centered in one point. If to the people he again and again recommended, and inculcated, and enforced, with all the varied beauty and energy of his fascinating eloquence, a principle of obedience, submission, and respect to their lawful Rulers of every denomination; to Princes and to all men in the exercise of authority he did not spare to recount, in the calmer tone of more argumentative discussion, the faults and errors to which their stations render them peculiarly liable, to impress upon them the necessity of that union between Mercy and Justice, without which one degenerates into weakness, and the other into cruelty; and to admonish them, for their own tranquillity and happiness, to protect, not oppress, their people, to improve, not impair, the legal security of the subject in his person and property, according to the true nature of their respective governments, for the great end of all government. Founding, as he always did, his political on his moral philo
sophy, he told the different classes of society, not of their extreme rights, but of their duties, the root of which is in the rights of others. He ardently loved his country and wished her prosperity: yet he has not scrupled to say, that
“he dreaded our own power and our own ambition; he dreaded our being too much dreaded.”
He constantly prosessed a jealousy of France as the natural rival and enemy of England; yet he was not less alarmed at her weakness, when, in the moment of the Monarchy being dissolved, she seemed to leave a chasm in the map of Europe, than afterwards at her terrific power, when the monstrous republic of Brissot and Roberspierre grew too big for her ancient limits; nor was he without his fears of her being again reduced too low, if the Allies had succeeded in what he believed to be their system of dismembering her. In general, men see that side only, which is nearest to them, in the order of things, by which they are surrounded, and in which they are carried along; but the clear and penetrating sight of his mind comprehended in one view all the parts of the immense whole, which varying from moment to moment, yet continuing through centuries essentially the same, extends around and above to every civilized people in every age, and unites and incorporates the present with the generations which are past. To preserve that whole unbroken to a late posterity, he knew no other way than by resisting all mad or wicked attempts to destroy any of the great prominent parts. Not that he was the enemy of resormations. Quite the reverse. But he would allow the honour of that name to no changes which affected the very substance of the thing: those he approved, those he called true reformations, which patiently seeking the degree of perfection alone attainable by man, and ordained to be only the slow result of long experience and much meditation, put the happiness of none to the hazard, while they better the condition of all. If, like the early sages of Greece, he were to be characterized by some peculiar sentiment, it should be that to which he desired to give the currency of a proverb — to innovate is not to reform.