[Born at Dublin, 1730. Died 1797. Aged 67.]
Coleridge, speaking of Edmund Burke, has said that “he referred
habitually to principles--he was a scientific statesman.” He is by far
the most philosophic politician that ever dealt with public affairs in
England. He takes rank with those who have applied their genius to the
transactions of their own fleeting day, in order to extract from them
truth, wisdom, and instruction for all ages. Gifted with gorgeous
eloquence, he spake like a prophet. We read his words, which we are told
fell as he uttered them upon dull insensate ears, and are astounded to
find how nearly, under altered circumstances, they concern ourselves.
Our descendants shall peruse the same syllables with the same living
interest, desire, and benefit. Châteaubriand has asserted that when Fox
spoke in the House of Commons, he and all strangers could not keep back
their tears. When Burke rose, the act was a signal for general flight.
We can understand the difference. Burke walked sublimely in advance of
his contemporaries; Fox was abreast of them, sharing in their
prejudices, and, it may be, inflaming their passions. Burke had great
knowledge of men and books, an imagination rich to overflowing, and
although a philosopher and a theorist, business-like habits. His genius
was unmatched in the House of Commons, and his industry did not fall
short of that of the most plodding member of that assembly. He was the
son of a Dublin attorney, and in early life found favour with Lord
Rockingham, who, bringing him into Parliament, allied him to the Whig
interest. The connexion was subsequently broken off, when. Burke, in
alarm at the frightful results and portents of the French Revolution,
strove to preserve Liberty by holding her back from the too ardent
embrace of her professed friends. His “Reflections on the French
Revolution” was the most memorable treatise of the time; and it was
followed by others as remarkable for splendid diction, as for the
profoundest philosophical thought. When starting into life, Burke wrote
his celebrated essay on “the Sublime and Beautiful,” and set on foot the
“Annual Register,” the historical portion of which he wrote for many
years. He would have been raised to the peerage but for the premature
death of his only son, of whom he was very fond. His character has been
variously estimated. There is no reason to doubt that he was as
conscientious, as honest, and as sincere, as he was mighty in his high
mental endowments.
[By Christopher Moore, 1850.]