mitted to stand at the head of that highest class of state papers to which it belongs. Mr Charles Butler, and Mr Mills, have done it justice; but as we are compelled to be very brief, we shall here prefer to extract the few compendious observations of Mr Prior; simply premising that they are no more than rigidly just. Speaking of this report, Mr Prior says it "is reputed by those who are presumed to be competent judges of the subject, which embraces very important questions of law, one of the ablest and most elaborate papers that have come from the pen of Mr Burke. It observes in detail, under the various heads of jurisdiction of the lords-law of parliament-rule of pleading-publicity of judges' opinions-debates on evidence-circumstantial evidence-practice of the courts below-and others, as well as upon all minor circumstances connected with the impeachment; and the greatest source of surprise to the reader will be, the recondite and various knowledge of legal forms, principles and history which it exhibits, and which must hereafter make it a source of interest to the legal profession, upon which it comments with so much force and freedom, but without the least hostility." One sentence from Mr C. Butler, we must add,—" The question occurs on a nice point in the doctrine of testimony; but it embraces the whole subject, and abounds in learning and profound observations; unfortunately its title is far from alluring, and it therefore has been little read." Soon after Mr Burke vacated his seat by the acceptance of the Chiltern Hundreds. Though thus ostensibly retiring from public life, even still he was not less active in his efforts for the cause, which he had of late years so ably, and so successfully maintained. Nor can it be reckoned by rightminded observers of that period as the least useful of his services, to have brought about the union of his own party; that is to say, of the Portland party, with government. The flippancy of assertion usual on such occasions, attacked this junction with the common reproach of secession, desertion, &c. We have anticipated all that need be said in reply; but reply is needless. There was no secession and no desertion, unless such may be charged on Mr Fox, and those who with him had separated themselves from all that was sober, reasonable, and sound in their party, by the adoption of the philosophers, infidels and antisocialists of the French revolution. Attempts were made by their mutual friends to effect a personal reconciliation between Mr Burke and Mr Fox. Mr Burke's own observation was this, "My separation from Mr Fox is a principle and not a passion; I hold it a sacred duty, while the present disorganizing system continues in operation in Europe, to confirm what I have said and written against it by this sacrifice, and it is no trifling test of my sincerity. To me the loss is great; but to what purpose would be our meeting, when our views and conduct continue so essentially at variance? I could take no delight with him, nor he probably with me." But at this time a trial was preparing for Mr Burke, which was to consign the remainder of his laborious and honourable life to a condition of utter desolation and sorrow, such as death alone could relieve. Richard Burke, his only son-whose worth, amiability, and promising talents, are variously attested, both by the evidence of many persons of well-known authority, by the remains of his epistolary correspondence, and by some able papers, the work of his hand-had for some time shown indications of a delicate constitution. He was the favourite object of his father's hopes, earnest wishes, and affections: in him all the domestic cares, occupations, and every object not involving the welfare of England and the good of mankind was centred. Mr Burke viewed his character and promising abilities with all the fond exaggeration of deep parental love, and laboured to convince the world that his son was to be a greater man than himself. He had been for several years the sharer of all his father's thoughts, and consulted by him in every concern of interest. From this, the reader may in some degree estimate the extent of such an affliction, to a mind like that of Mr Burke. On vacating his seat, Mr Burke immediately took steps to secure the return of his son, with whom he proceeded to Malton, where they obtained the desired success. He also obtained for him the appointment of secretary to earl Fitzwilliam, on this nobleman being sent to the government of Ireland. But while he was thus securing, as he fondly thought, the starting-point of a brilliant career, the sad reality was mournfully anticipated by his friends. The medical friends who had been consulted on the delicacy of Richard were fearful of alarming Mr Burke by any painful disclosure; and his old friend, Dr Brocklesby, pronounced it as his opinion, that such a disclosure would prove fatal even more rapidly than his son's disease. Such an opinion may now serve to illustrate the sense entertained by Mr Burke's discerning friends, of the depth and force of his affections. The physicians advised a removal to country air; and Cromwell house, near Brompton, was taken. There the progress of consumption became more marked and rapid, and it became necessary to apprize Mr Burke of the truth. From this moment, until the last, he took no rest, and little food, but resigned himself to a grief beyond the powers of nature to endure for many days. Death to the christian is surely no calamity; but the bereavement of human affection is so dreadful and shattering in its effects, and may be aggravated so much by circumstances, as to offer a contemplation solemn and awful beyond all powers of language to convey. Nor can the success of such an effort of description be attended with any better effect than to shock, and pain the best sympathies of the human breast. The incidents of the last scenes of Richard Burke's life are minutely detailed, and may be read in Mr Prior's Work. They present a narration of real woe, such as is not easily paralleled among the pages of fiction, either for the minute and touching incidents, the living truth with which they convey the scene, or the dignity and interest of the sufferers. From the moment of the fatal event, Mr Burke was, as he called himself, "a desolate old man." A few short extracts from his correspondence, forcibly denote the change. "I am alone-I have none to meet my enemies in the gate"-"desolate at home, stripped of my boast, my hope, my consolation, my helper, my counsellor, and my pride." Mr Burke was to have been promoted to the peerage. This event rendered such a step undesirable. Such honours had lost their charm, or if anything, it would have been a cruel aggravation to wear the empty trappings of this world in the utter desolation of the heart; nor will good taste regret that the noble name of Edmund Burke has come down to us unclouded by an empty title. A few words must be said as to the intrinsic value of one, made memorable by the love of such a father. It is thought by some that his merits have been exaggerated by paternal fondness. It cannot be denied that some reasonable deduction must be made on such natural grounds; but Mr Burke's opinion cannot be so wholly set aside as to avoid the admission, that it must have required no slight attainments, no ordinary or doubtful gifts, to elicit his admiration. If love is partial, it is also exacting and fastidious; it awakens a jealous anxiety for the fame of its object, which is quick to anticipate disappointment, and vigilant in detecting and repairing the causes of failure. Such refinements, too, are congenial to the refining spirit and nice discrimination of Mr Burke. His judgment cannot go for nothing. Some of young Burke's papers which have been published in various memoirs and histories are admitted to be very ably written, even by those who depreciate the writer. Mr Prior gives at length a character of him, from the pen of Dr Walter King, bishop of Rochester, who had been from an early age his friend. It is written with taste, talent, and the tone of nice and eritical discernment, and cannot be set down for a mere eulogistic effusion, which would much disgrace the sincerity of the writer. We shall extract a few short paragraphs. “His talents, whether for business or for speculation, were not exceeded by any which the present, or perhaps any former age could boast, &c. The beauty and extent of his erudition was great; but what distinguished him in literature was, the justness, refinement, and accuracy of his taste. * * * * "In society, his manners were elegant; and the best judges both at home and abroad thought him one of the best bred men of the age. He was at the same time rigidly and severely sincere. He was of moderate stature, but of a beautiful countenance, and an elegant and graceful figure. He wanted no accomplishment of body or mind." The writer who has been emphatic in his praise of sincerity was probably sincere. And several of the foregoing remarks are not merely opinion, but observation and the allegation of fact. Dr King has one record here which should not be omitted. "To his father and mother his affection and assiduity were such as passed all description, and all examples that the writer of this has ever seen,-here everything of self was annihilated; here he was as perfect as human nature can admit. At home and in his family he was indeed all in all. He lived in and for his parents, and he expired in their arms." From the moment of this sad event, the colour of life was wholly changed to his father. It was to him a truly immedicable and rooted sorrow, "To which life nothing brighter or darker can bring, From this time, his intercourse with the ministers became rare-and although he still took an active interest in public affairs, his exertions were mainly confined to the press. He was frequently consulted personally and by letter, and on such occasions he readily and fully communicated his advice. Such was the natural activity of his disposition, that it would indeed have been impossible for him to recover that degree of equanimity which every mind, not radically unsound, must regain by the healing influences of time, without so far at least falling back into the habit of his whole life: and the incessant industry which had been the pleasure and inclination of better times, was now the resource of a mind occupied by painful recollections and shrinking from the afflicting loneliness of old age. At this period, the question of Roman Catholic Emancipation occupied a principal share of the public attention, and was much and anxiously discussed in both countries. Mr Burke took an active part in endeavouring to bring the English cabinet to a decision favourable to the views of Mr Grattan; and had even, through the duke of Portland, seemingly effected this purpose. Mr Pitt was himself brought over, and there can be no fair doubt that, for a short interval, the measure was fairly contemplated, and means adopted for the purpose of carrying it into effect. But a sudden change took place in the councils of government, too violent to admit of doubt as to the fact, though liable to some differences of construction as to its causes and motives. For some detail of these particulars, we shall find a more suitable space. The question is so involved with party passions, that it cannot be justly introduced in a work not written for any party, without some important distinctions. It is still more involved in his representations. But the Irish history of that interval more appropriately belongs to the lives of those who were more directly concerned in the politics of Ireland at this period. A pamphlet at this time written by lord Auckland, and sent by him to Mr Burke, drew forth a spirited reply, which was drawn up within two days after receiving the pamphlet. This is his "Fourth Letter on a Regicide Peace." In the private letter to lord Auckland, acknowledging the compliment, there are some passages which may serve as illustrating the state of the writer's temper and spirits, at this period of his life. Lord Auckland had observed, that he and Mr Burke had long sailed on " different tacks." Mr Burke takes up the metaphor, "It is true, my lord, what you say, that through our public life, we have generally sailed on somewhat different tacks. We have so un doubtedly, and we should so still, if I had continued to keep the sea. In that difference you rightly observe, that I have always done justice to your skill and ability as a navigator, and to your good intentions towards the cargo and the ship's company. I cannot say now that we are on different tacks. There would be no propriety in the metaphor. I can sail no longer; my vessel cannot be said to be even in port; she is wholly condemned and broken up. To have an idea of that vessel, you must call to mind what you have often seen on the Kentish road. Those planks of tough and hardy oak that used for years to brave the buffets of the Bay of Biscay, are now turned with their waspish grain and empty trunnion holes, into very wretched pales for the enclosure of a wretched farmyard." Further on he writes: "I find, my dear lord, that you think some persons who are not satisfied with the secu rities of a Jacobin peace, to be persons of intemperate minds. I may be, and I fear I am, with you, in that description; but pray, my lord, recollect that very few of the causes that make men intemperate can operate upon me. Sanguine hopes, vehement desires, inordinate ambition, implacable animosity, party attachments, or party interests; all these with me have no existence. For myself, or a family, (alas! I have none,) I have nothing to hope or fear in this world. I am attached by principle, inclination, and gratitude, to the king, and to the present ministry." "Perhaps you may think that my animosity to opposition is the cause of my dissent on seeing the politics of Mr Fox, (which while I was in the world, I combatted by every instrument which God had put into my hands, and in every situation in which I had taken part,) so completely adopted in your lordship's book; but it was with pain I broke with that great man for ever in that cause-and I assure you, it is not without pain that I differ with your lordship in the same principles. But it is of no concern. I am far below the region of those great and tempestuous passions. I feel nothing of the intemperance of mind. It is rather sorrow and dejection than anger." The whole letter may be found in Mr Prior's volume. The anecdotes which remain of this period of Mr Burke's life are too numerous for a memoir, prolonged far beyond our due bounds. Most of the illustrious men of the following generation have retained and left valuable and impressive recollections. The most brief and casual intercourse with Mr Burke left some striking memento of goodness and wisdom, and a volume of such could easily be compiled. In 1795, and 1796, there was a severe pressure of distress, owing to a scarcity of corn. Mr Burke erected a mill, and retailed corn at a reduced rate, and of course at no slight sacrifice of means, and thus diffused relief among the surrounding poor. In the same year, pensions to the amount of £3,700 a-year were granted by the government to Mr Burke. This grant was creditable in the highest degree to the king and his ministers; it was entirely unsought and unexpected, and plainly uninfluenced by any expectation of future services. Mr Burke was now retired from public life, and seemingly from all further exertion. His broken frame, disordered nervous system, and spirits at the same time restless and dejected, appeared to forebode the near approach of death; or if not, of intellectual decay. Already his friends had become alarmed by rumours of insane symptoms; and his enemies, through whom these rumours received their currency and shape, were preparing to trample in cowardly security on the remains of the dead lion, the scourge of charlatanism, and the defender of the state. Never had the reward of public service been more honourably deserved or bestowed: the triumphs of Trafalgar, or the crowning glories of Waterloo, were not intrinsically more decisive or beneficial in result, than those able, laborious, and persevering exertions of pen and tongue, which, under the mercy of Providence, arrested and repelled from the shores of Britain, the furious waves of infidelity, anarchy, and civil ruin. But there was a faction which had concentrated its entire energies in the cause of democracy, and of which the whole ambition and all the |