Born on the 24th of October, 1765, James Mackintosh was fifteen years younger than Erskine, and thirty-five younger than Burke. He early showed a remarkable fondness for reading, and when he was ten years of age was regarded in the locality of his birth near Inverness, in Scotland, as “a prodigy of learning.” His favorite amusement at this period of his life appears to have been to gather his school-fellows about him and entertain them by delivering speeches in imitation of Fox and North, on the American war,—then the great question of the day. At fifteen, he entered King’s College, Aberdeen, where he soon established a friendship with Robert Hall, which continued through life. Their tastes were similar, and they devoted themselves with great earnestness to the study of the classics, and to the more abstruse forms of philosophical reasoning. They were in the habit of studying together and discussing the works of Berkeley, Butler, and Edwards, as well as those of Plato and Herodotus. This exercise, kept up during a large part of their collegiate course, appears to have exerted a great influence on the formation of their minds and tastes. Mackintosh afterward declared that he learned more from those discussions “than from all the books he ever read”; and Hall testified to the great ability of his companion, by saying that “he had an intellect more like that of Bacon than any other person of modern times.”
After spending four years at Edinburgh in the study of medicine, Mackintosh repaired to London with a view to the practice of his profession. His heart seems, however, not to have been very fully enlisted in the work, and he was soon driven to the public press as a means of support. His first great work, published in 1791, commanded immediate attention, not only for its elegant and expressive as well as keen and trenchant style, but also for the enthusiastic daring with which a young man of twenty-six grappled with the most powerful and accomplished writer of the day. The volume was nothing less than a “Defence of the French Revolution against the Accusations of the Right Honorable Edmund Burke.” In point of style the work is certainly not equal to that of his great antagonist; and no more than four years later, Mackintosh himself was so frank as to say to some Frenchmen who complimented him: “Ah, gentlemen, since that time you have entirely refuted me.” But, in spite of its obvious faults, its great qualities as a piece of literary workmanship made a prodigious impression. Fox quoted it with enthusiastic approbation in the House of Commons; and Canning, who ridiculed the Revolution, is said to have told a friend that he read the book “with as much admiration as he had ever felt.” Three editions were immediately called for; and it may be doubted whether even to the present day it is not the most successful as well as the most powerful argument that has ever been made in opposition to the more celebrated treatise.
The publication of this masterly review showed plainly enough that another great writer had appeared. The reception the work received encouraged Mackintosh in the gratification of his tastes; and, finding himself irresistibly inclining to questions of political philosophy, he now abandoned the profession he had already entered, and turned his attention to the study of law. In 1795 he was admitted to the bar. Four years later he produced the second great literary impression of his life in the publication of the “Introduction to a Course of Lectures on the Law of Nature and of Nations.” The remarkable impression made by this single lecture was expressed by Campbell, when he said: “Even supposing that essay had been recovered only imperfect and mutilated—if but a score of consecutive sentences could be shown, they would bear a testimony to his genius as decided as the bust of Theseus bears to Grecian art among the Elgin marbles.”
Mackintosh’s lectures, in the spring of 1799, at Lincoln’s Inn Hall, were attended by an auditory such as had never before met in England on a similar occasion. “Lawyers, members of Parliament, men of letters, and gentlemen from the country crowded the seats; and the Lord Chancellor, who, from a pressure of public business, was unable to attend, received a full report of each lecture in writing, and was loud in their praise.” The introductory lecture, the only one that was written out and preserved, is as remarkable for its eloquence as for the depth of its learning and the vigor and discrimination of its thought.
Mackintosh now devoted himself to the practice of his profession with every prospect of the most flattering success. Regarding himself as more perfectly fitted for a position upon the bench than at the bar, he aspired to a judicial appointment at Trinidad or in India. The appointment was under contemplation, when he was engaged to defend M. Jean Peltier, a Frenchman who resided in London and published a newspaper opposed to the rising fortunes of Bonaparte. There is an English statute against “libel on a friendly government”; and Bonaparte, who was now for the moment at peace with England, demanded that the statute should be enforced. Action was brought against Peltier, and when the case came on for trial Mackintosh delivered the speech selected from his works for this volume. He labored under the disadvantage of having the law clearly against him; but he regarded the equities of the case as entirely on the side of Peltier, and therefore he devoted his remarkable powers to the discussion of the general principles involved in the case. It was a plea in behalf of freedom of the English press—its privilege and its duty to comment on and to criticise the crimes even of the proudest tyrants. The jury, under the law, was obliged to convict; but seldom before an English court has a speech made a greater impression. Of this fact we have the most conclusive evidence in the testimony of the greatest of English advocates. Erskine was present during its delivery, and before going to bed he sent to Mackintosh the following remarkable note:
“Dear Sir:—I can not shake off from my nerves the effect of your powerful and most wonderful speech, which so completely disqualifies you for Trinidad or India. I could not help saying to myself, as you were speaking: ‘O terram illam beatam quÆ hunc virum acciperit, hanc ingratam si ejicerit, miseram si amiserit.’ I perfectly approve the verdict, but the manner in which you opposed it I shall always consider as one of the most splendid monuments of genius, literature, and eloquence.
“Yours ever, T. Erskine.”
And Robert Hall, scarcely inferior to Erskine as a judge of what is worthy of praise in human speech, wrote to his old friend concerning it: “I speak my sincere sentiments when I say, it is the most extraordinary assemblage of whatever is most refined in address, profound in political and moral speculation, and masterly eloquence, which it has ever been my lot to read in the English language.”
A few months after the defence of Peltier, Mackintosh received the honor of knighthood and was appointed Recorder at Bombay. This position took him to India, where he passed the next eight years, devoting his time to the duties of the bench and the pursuits of literature. On his return in 1812 to England he entered the House of Commons, and for four years was a firm supporter of the Whigs. In 1818 he accepted the Professorship of Law and General Politics in the newly established Haileybury College, a position which he filled with great distinction until 1827.
During all this period he did not relax his interest in the active affairs of government, nor in the questions that agitated the House of Commons. His speeches in the House, of which he continued to be a member, were remarkable for their wisdom; though perhaps not for their persuasive power. He will be remembered, not so much for his parliamentary services, as for his unrivalled plea in behalf of free speech, and for the many essays on philosophical and political subjects with which he enriched the literature of our language. Until his death in 1832, he was one of the most highly esteemed writers of the “Encyclopedia Britannica” and of the Edinburgh Review.
