The knowledge of Burke was of the most profound, various, and extensive kind; and his excellence in almost every species of prose composition conducted him to an eminent rank among writers. Moreover, his fame as an orator and statesman is not inferior to that of any man who ever appeared upon the theatre of political affairs; and he is justly entitled to the credit of having formed and sustained his vast reputation by genius, energy, and resolution. His own fearless pen has recorded, for the edification of posterity, that he possessed not one of the qualities, nor cultivated one of the arts, that recommend aspiring intellect to the favor of the powerful; he was not made for a minion or a tool; and he did not follow the trade of winning the hearts by imposing on the understandings of the people. At every step in his life he was traversed and opposed; and at every turnpike he was obliged to show his passport, and prove a title to the honor of serving his country. The memory of such a person surely merits a larger share of popular attention than it has hitherto received.

According to biographers, the family of Burke, which was ennobled in several of its branches, could boast of ancient lineage and a respectable position. His grandfather is stated to have been proprietor of a considerable estate, which was inherited and disposed of by the illustrious individual who made the name familiar to England and Europe. This fine old Irish gentleman resided near Limerick; but his son, having been educated to the profession of the law, carried on a very large business as an attorney in the city of Dublin. There, on the 1st of January, 1730, Edmund Burke entered upon his checkered and extraordinary existence; yet hardly any event could have appeared more improbable than that the child then born on Arran Quay should, as years rolled on, become “the philosopher of one era, and the prophet of the next.”

From the circumstances of his birth Burke was not subjected to the disadvantage of a deficient education, nor to that of being destined for pursuits uncongenial to the bent of his mind. His academic course was, indeed, such as qualified him for the career he was appointed to run. Being of a delicate frame he was not sent to school at the usual early age, but taught to read by his mother, a woman of cultivated intellect. Ere long, country air being thought necessary for his health, he was removed from the Irish capital to the house of some relations at Castletown Roche; and there he was placed, for initiation into Latin, at the village seminary. In this situation he pursued his studies with juvenile enthusiasm for several years, and then went home for a brief period, during which he was under pedagogic rule. Perhaps, however, a residence under the paternal roof was not found excessively favorable to the mental development, and he was entered at a classical academy in the county of Kildare, kept by a worthy member of the Society of Friends, for whom, in the midst of all his subsequent triumphs, he retained a sincere and grateful respect. On one occasion, during a parliamentary debate, Burke, with becoming feeling, alluded to this old teacher as “an honor to his sect;” and, assuredly, it is no slight compliment to be spoken of in such terms by the greatest man of an age.

Meantime the youthful pupil applied himself to his books with much ardor and exemplary industry. He cared not to display his powers, but stored his mind with that multifarious learning which, in many an hour of oratorical conflict, furnished him with fine thoughts, lofty sentiments, and noble imagery. His superiority among the boys at the establishment appears to have been duly recognized, and was pleasingly exhibited in cases of emergency. Once, when the assizes were held at Carlow, he proved his natural versatility in a very amusing way. The master had, with laudable good-humor, allowed his scholars to have a holiday, on condition that the more advanced among them should write, in Latin verse, a description of the procession, and the impressions which the scene left on their minds. Burke executed the prescribed task with ability and fullness, and was, no doubt, congratulating himself on having acquitted himself with credit, when he was earnestly entreated to prepare a second account of the pageant for a less gifted class-fellow. Trusting to be supplied by his petitioner with some slight hints for guidance in this delicate and charitable effort at versification, the future fashioner of statesmen questioned his comrade in regard to what part of the ceremony had struck him as most remarkable.

“Sure,” replied the Hibernian urchin, scratching his head, “I noticed nothing particular, but a fat piper in a brown coat.”

Dexterously availing himself of the idea thus stupidly suggested, Burke, in a short time, produced a humorous doggerel rhyme, commencing with

Though his rare faculties were proudly appreciated by the learned Quaker, who foretold they would ultimately conduct their possessor to fame and fortune, it is worthy of remark that Burke’s gay, witty, and vivacious brother, Richard, was generally regarded as the more brilliantly endowed of the active attorney’s sons. The keen and anxious eye of their father, however, perceived the superior wisdom and energy that, even at that date, animated the glowing breast of the youth who was to stand forward as the terror of Indian oppressors, the champion of injured ladies, and the marvel of Christendom. Indeed, sparks of the peculiar sympathy for the poor and desolate, which breathes through his political discourses, already began to flash forth with promising brightness and warmth. A humble cottager having been compelled to pull down his little tenement at the mandate of an imperious road-surveyor, the young spirit of Burke, who indignantly witnessed the operation, broke out with vehement scorn, and he emphatically declared that, if ever he had authority in the realm, no man should, with impunity, so treat the obscure and defenseless. The boy is father to the man, and in after years, when his renown was at its height, he said that his object was not more to save the high from the blights and spoliations of envy and rapacity, than the lowly from the iron hand of oppression and the insolent spurn of contempt.

In the spring of 1744 Burke was entered as a pensioner at Trinity College, Dublin. Two years later he was elected a scholar of the house. To obtain the latter distinction a candidate had to go through a successful examination in the classics, before the provost and senior fellows, after which he was entitled to a small annuity, a vote for the representatives of the University, and free chambers and commons for a certain period. But it does not appear that Burke generally sought opportunities of proving the might of that genius which he must have felt to be in him. On the contrary, he silently hoarded up that universal information, which, in other days and in very different circumstances, he exhibited in forms so grand and magnificent. Thus, when the proper time arrived, he was able to speak or converse with eloquence and correctness on almost any subject that presented itself. He gave much attention to rhetoric, and improved his mind by perpetual and sagacious reflection. While at college his habits were quiet, his character unpretending, and his conduct marked by regularity.

Burke had, long before leaving the University, been enrolled as a student of law at the Middle Temple, but he was in no particular haste to keep his terms. It is even related that, while studying with zeal and earnestness at home to improve his capacity and extend his learning, he was induced to apply for the Logic chair at Glasgow, but too late to gain his object. At length, seeing no fair field for the exercise of his talents in the land of his birth, he resolved to betake himself to London, trusting to achieve for himself, by ability and industry, a position of honor and independence. He had already devoted much time to accomplish himself in composition, and written several essays to counteract the doctrines of a democratic Irish apothecary, whose daring lucubrations had won their author considerable local fame. Thus were exercised the rare strength and invincible courage in political controversy which afterward enabled him to trample many a potent and well-appointed adversary in the dust. It might have been that his success in this contest inspired him with the desire of signalizing his singular prowess in a wider field. At all events he repaired to the English metropolis.

His journey thither was not undertaken without feelings of sadness; and his eyes often filled with tears, as, after crossing the Channel, he was rolled through a country ornamented with pleasant mansions, neat cottages, and villages, whose cheerful and industrious appearance he could not help contrasting with the poverty of his native isle. Agriculture, he says, was his favorite science, and would have been his chosen pursuit if Providence had blessed his youth with acres. He was, therefore, highly interested in, and pleased with, its progress in the country he was now adopting.

At the time of his arrival in London, Burke was by no means unfitted, by knowledge or experience, to struggle with advantage. His classical and philosophical acquirements were enormous, and he had no slight conception of life and society. He was an eager observer of mankind, and had seen enough of the gay and fashionable while hanging on in Dublin to acquit himself with propriety in any company to which his marvelous conversational powers might procure him access. His stories and anecdotes were characterized by interest and variety. They did not lose any thing in effect by the look and manner with which they were set off, nor by the slight Irish accent, which to the last was perceptible, especially in his colloquial displays. Thus accomplished, he commenced his career of intellectual triumph by contributing to periodicals; thereby sharpening his wits and increasing his intelligence. The character of Englishmen immediately commanded his respect, and, celebrated as his birth-place ever has been for its display of female beauty, the graces of Englishwomen excited his enthusiastic admiration. He complained, indeed, that there was less regard paid to men of letters than he had been led to imagine, and that genius was in small danger of being enervated by the patronage of power. But he probably felt that his must in the end bear him upward, in spite of every obstacle: so he strove against discontent, and adhered steadfastly to habits of temperance, keeping his glorious intellect unobscured by the cloud which is certain to follow dissipation. The buildings in the wonderful city of which he was now an inhabitant, struck him as being very fine; and in good time, attracted, probably, by the descriptions of Addison, he visited the edifices of Westminster. He was deeply impressed with awe and veneration for the sacredness and solemnity of the place, and thought that sound and useful lessons might be learned from the monuments. Indeed, it is not difficult to conceive what fine thoughts and high imaginings must have crossed the mind and irradiated the brain of Burke, as, for the first time, he wandered through the venerable Abbey, and perambulated that historic Hall, which, in later days, was the scene of the most surpassing effort of his genius.

While earning a livelihood by literary labor, the income of the brilliant aspirant was no doubt small; but his industry was unceasing. He produced essays on various literary and political subjects for weekly and daily publications, and he studied with singular diligence. He usually read with a pen in his hand to make notes, extracts, and reflections. His apprehension was peculiarly quick, and his memory retentive; and he could thus travel with rapidity over a wide field. But it is impossible to work incessantly without impairing the health. A somewhat severe illness caused him to resort, for medical advice, to Dr. Nugent, a physician of skill and talent, who, considering that proper care and attention were more likely to prove beneficial than any medicine administered in the dust and solitude of the Temple, kindly invited the invalid to take up his quarters for a time under his roof. Burke wisely accepted the hospitality thus offered.

During the restoration of his patient to health and vigor, the Doctor found in his daughter an efficacious assistant; Burke found in her an amiable and agreeable companion, who soon made an impression on his heart. In such circumstances, even “the greatest philosopher in action the world ever saw” acted like other mortals; he told his enamored tale, and they were forthwith united. This step was most fortunate; the lady proved herself eminently worthy of his affection; and when years had brought trouble and anxiety in their train, her husband often declared, that all his racking cares departed whenever he crossed the threshold of his own house.

Burke had now a double motive to exertion. Animated by that love of fame—

and at the same time by that sense of duty which is not the least laudable incitement to mental energy, he applied himself to the production of some work that might establish his name; and accordingly his “Vindication of Natural Society,” in which the writer covertly, and with admirable effect, imitated the style and principles of Bolingbroke, made its appearance. The treatise exhibited much historical knowledge, versatility of genius, and sagacity of mind; but it failed to meet with the success or notice which its ingenious irony might have been expected to secure. It was published in the year 1756, and soon followed by his “Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful,” which so much pleased and delighted the author’s father, that a remittance of a hundred pounds was the consequence.

From this auspicious period Burke’s celebrity and importance may be dated; and his reputation speedily secured him a worthy position among men of letters and eminence. Sir Joshua Reynolds sought his society; and at the hospitable mansion of the immortal painter he formed the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson, who declared his new friend to be the greatest man living. “Take up whatever topic you will,” he was in the habit of saying, “Burke is ready to meet you. If he were to go into a stable and talk to the ostlers for a short time, they would venerate him as the wisest of human beings. No person of sense ever met him under a gateway to avoid a shower who did not go away convinced that he was the first man in England.”

In the year 1764 Reynolds proposed the formation of a club, which met at the Turk’s Head, and soon comprehended several of the most distinguished literary and political characters of whom Great Britain boasted. It long flourished without a name, but was at length recognized as the Literary Club. One of the nine original members was Oliver Goldsmith, who had been a college contemporary of Burke, and afterward gone to study medicine in Edinburgh. He had since traveled over much of the Continent, holding learned disputations at the different Universities that came in his way, where success entitled him to a dinner, a night’s lodging, and a small sum of money. He had now thrown himself into the republic of letters, and much amused the brilliant circle at the Turk’s Head by his strange eccentricities and ludicrous blunders.

At their meetings Burke was found fully a match for Johnson; and it was observed, that he was almost the only man living from whom the huge sage would bear contradiction. The subject of Bengal was sometimes under discussion; and Burke, even at that period, showed an extent and accuracy of information in regard to it rarely to be met with.

Burke had already projected and brought into operation the “Annual Register,” which was for years carried on under his sagacious inspection; though political matters soon occupied so much of his attention that he had little leisure for literary pursuits not strictly connected with affairs of state: but his introduction to public life was gradual. In the year 1759 he became acquainted with Singlespeech Hamilton, son of a Scottish advocate who had come to England at the Union. This mysterious individual had, a short while previously, made the solitary but successful oratorical effort from which his nickname was derived, in a debate long remembered as one of the greatest in which the parliamentary personages of that generation had partaken. In 1761 he went to Ireland as Secretary to the Lord-lieutenant, and Burke accompanied him as a friend and adviser. For his services on this occasion the latter was granted a pension of £300 a year, which he sacrificed, after enjoying it for eighteen months, on his rupture with Hamilton.

Soon after making this sacrifice, which did not prevent him tendering his aid and drawing his purse to forward the interests of his whimsical countryman, Barry the painter, Burke had the gratification of playing a part in the political world. On the dismissal of George Grenville from the head of affairs, Lord Rockingham, chief of the Whig magnates, was intrusted with the duty of forming an administration. That nobleman, having been filled with admiration of Burke’s occasional papers in the “Public Advertiser,” was led to desire the acquaintance of the writer, who speedily became his private secretary, and member of parliament for Wendover. He was, not, however, “swaddled, rocked, and dandled into a legislator.” He set himself studiously to comprehend official forms and parliamentary proceedings, used every means to accomplish himself in voice and action—with that view even frequenting the theatre to derive hints and instruction from the tones, looks, and gestures of Garrick. Both by solitary study and debating at a society, he prepared himself to take an active part in the business of the House of Commons. He made his first speech on the bill for repealing the American Stamp Act, with an eloquence which excited the admiration of all present, and evoked the valuable praise of the great Earl of Chatham. Sir John Hawkins expressed his amazement at the extraordinary eminence to which Burke had suddenly ascended; upon which Dr. Johnson said,

“Sir, there is nothing marvelous in it; we who know Burke feel sure that he will be one of the first men in the country.”

On the fall of the Rockingham ministry, to which his genius had imparted some degree of dignity, Burke wrote and circulated a plain and simple defense of its measures. He soon after made an ironical reply to his own pamphlet in the form of a letter, signed “Whittington,” and professing to be the production of a tallow-chandler, who aspired to the office of lord-mayor. In this epistle a severe attack was made on the cabinet which Lord Chatham had just put together.

By this time Burke, from his intimacy with patrician senators, was known and appreciated in the world of fashion, where his talents and acquirements qualified him to shine, in spite of those social demarcations whose lines are not always justly drawn. He was an especial favorite, and won golden opinions in the “blue-stocking” circles; and he was wisely careful not to mortify the vanity nor incur the wrath of learned ladies, by pointing out their errors or exposing their fallacies. His position in Parliament was soon ascertained and ere long recognized. On the very day when he broke ground in the House of Commons, the first Pitt addressed it for the last time, and men were in doubt which of them was the more splendid speaker. Ere two years had elapsed, Burke had established his oratorical supremacy.

About this period a tract of Grenville’s exhibited so much ill-nature that the Rockingham party felt the necessity of retaliating. Accordingly, Burke published his “Observations on the Present State of the Nation.” The popular error that a man of genius can not deal with practical matters as successfully as those who are less richly endowed by nature, was the consolation of mediocrity very much earlier than the days of Burke, and from him it now met with a signal refutation. He executed his task with complete triumph on every point of consequence, and proved his mastery over the dry, minute, financial, and statistical details, which were supposed to form the stronghold and peculiar province of his sharp but narrow-minded adversary.

Burke had, ere this, purchased a pleasant villa near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire, where he could enjoy rural privacy and rest his eye on lawns, woods, meadows, and corn-fields. Attached to his residence was land worth about six hundred a-year, of which he retained the greater part in his own occupation, that he might indulge in the satisfaction of farming. Without adopting any expensive system, he proved himself one of the most successful agriculturists in the county. When living in town he had various articles of produce carted up with his own stout nags, which were employed one day to draw his carriage, and on the next to plow the soil. As a country gentleman he exerted himself to the utmost to ameliorate the condition of the peasantry among whom he lived; he was daily earning their blessings by the schemes he devised for their benefit. He planned various institutions for enabling mechanics and laborers to save something from their wages against the season of sickness, and his hand was ever open as day to the poor or distressed. Thus he won and enjoyed the respect and admiration of the neighborhood. To his numerous guests his hospitality was overflowing. He neither affected style nor studied display, but regaled them with substantial fare, and delighted them with cheerful and entertaining conversation. Among his visitors he counted Dr. Johnson, for whose talents and virtues he always expressed a sincere esteem, and by whose death-bed his voice faltered with grief and emotion.

As one of the freeholders of Bucks, Burke drew up a petition concerning the Middlesex election, which was approved of by a county meeting, and presented by him to Parliament. He likewise set forth his views and opinions of the political affairs of the day, in a treatise entitled “Thoughts on the Present Discontents,” wherein he advocated the claims of the great Whig connection to the government of the empire. In the House of Commons he maintained their interests with unrivaled eloquence; he led their ranks, in opposition to Lord North, during the American War; and he was justly regarded as by far the most formidable assailant whom that minister had to encounter in the arena of debate. His magnificent speech on American taxation was considered one of the most extraordinary on record; but his fanciful flights and profound reasoning were often too little adapted to the taste of his audience to be relished or followed; and his contemporaries became careless of attending to orations which, nevertheless, will last as long as the English language. His own friends, who crept stealthily away to avoid listening to his rich effusions, were, on their publication, surprised at the delight experienced in perusing them. Such was their treatment of an orator who spoke for posterity.

A dissolution occurring in 1774, Burke was, without his knowledge, put in nomination as a candidate for the representation of Bristol. He had just been elected for Malton, in Yorkshire, when the intelligence of this unsought distinction arrived; and straightway he proceeded to the ancient city. There his eloquence was exerted with such force that it penetrated even the heads of the wealthy traders in rum and sugar, who, after a protracted contest, placed him at the top of the poll. An amusing anecdote is related of his colleague in the canvass—a colonial merchant. After one of the mighty orator’s most glowing addresses to the inhabitants, the worthy individual feeling himself quite overpowered by the torrent, instead of attempting to explain his views to the audience as expected, exclaimed with grave but excited earnestness, “I say ditto to Mr. Burke! I say ditto to Mr. Burke!” It happened, however, that when the next general election took place, Burke had rendered himself so unpopular to the constituency by his support of the Catholic claims and of the Irish Trade Acts, that he judged it prudent to decline a contest; and he again took shelter in the borough of Malton, which he represented during the remainder of his parliamentary career.

The party, which Burke had all but created by his intellect and determination, had, meantime, been reinforced by an ally of rare prowess and extraordinary capacity. Charles James Fox, a younger son of that Lord Holland who had sprung into political life under the auspices of Sir Robert Walpole, and been ennobled for services rendered to Lord Bute, had entered the House before he was of legal age. For a while Fox held a subordinate appointment in the Government of Lord North, but was dismissed from it on account of some refractory votes. He then, in spite of his unfortunate gaming propensities, made himself one of the most accomplished debaters ever heard, by speaking every night but one during five sessions. He became the pupil of Burke, from whom he frankly avowed having learned more than from all other men and authors. Gradually he superseded his master in the leadership, and their united efforts forced Lord North from power.

The Marquis of Rockingham now returned to his former position, and Burke received the appointment of Paymaster-general, then one of the most lucrative in the state, and was admitted into the privy council. But, in defiance of all fairness and gratitude, he was excluded from the cabinet. The death of Lord Rockingham, in 1782, terminated his party’s tenure of office; and Lord Shelburne being called on to undertake the duties of government, intrusted the lead of the Lower House to Pitt, then little more than twenty-three years of age. Upon this was formed the celebrated Fox and North coalition which speedily drove Lord Shelburne into retirement, though his youthful colleague had struggled with signal skill, dauntless courage, and commanding eloquence to baffle the efforts of the terrible foes ranged in fierce opposition. The Duke of Portland then became nominal premier; Fox and his ancient enemy, Lord North, were the principal secretaries of state; and Burke calmly went back to the Pay-office. But Pitt succeeded in defeating their East India Bill, and returned to power in the capacity of prime minister.

Burke on this set out on his crusade against the abuses and tyranny, which had long occupied his thoughts. Fourteen years previously the affairs of India had become a subject of Parliamentary deliberation and national interest; and Burke had proceeded to investigate the matter with restless energy. The East India Directors had proposed to send him out at the head of a commission for the reformation of abuses, with discretionary powers. He declined the offer, but applied himself with persevering industry to acquire a thorough knowledge of the question. The time had now arrived when it was to be turned to account; and forthwith commenced the long and fierce contest, in the course of which he shook the old oak roof of Westminster Hall with his denunciations of the great Eastern culprit.

Warren Hastings, originally sent out to India as a poor orphan, whom his guardian was glad to be rid of, landed in 1785 on the free soil of Britain, after having maintained and extended the English empire in the East, administered its affairs with singular capacity, and gathered a large fortune for himself. Burke believed him to be sullied with various crimes, and within a week of his triumphant arrival gave notice of a motion seriously affecting his character as a ruler. With fiery zeal, relentless animosity, and unflagging industry, he commenced and carried on the assault, till, in February 1788, the memorable trial began in Westminster Hall, which was gorgeously fitted up for the occasion. On the third day Burke addressed the court, and his opening speech occupied four sittings. The passion and energy of the orator were worked up to a pitch which overbore, for a time, the conviction of those who entertained friendly feelings for the accused. With all the ardor of his great soul, with all the powers of his splendid imagination, and with all the might of his marvelous intellect, he denounced in the loftiest language the misconduct with which Hastings stood charged. Ladies shrieked and fainted; men muttered and execrated the dark deeds his rich mind and brilliant fancy portrayed with all the eloquence of the highest genius; and even the feelings of the criminal were so carried away by the resistless flood, that he almost believed himself guilty. The effect, however, was evanescent; the ceremony proceeded languidly; and years after it was brought to a termination by the acquittal of the Governor-general. Meantime, on the breaking out of the French Revolution, Burke, indignant at the removal of ancient landmarks, took a most gloomy view of its tendency, and was thus separated in opinion from his former associates, who did not hesitate to express their satisfaction at the event, and their admiration of the principles that had produced it. A party rupture was the consequence; and in 1791, during a Canadian debate, Burke, who had previously declared that he and Sheridan had parted forever, solemnly renounced all political and private friendship with Fox. “My separation,” he stated, “is a principle, and not a passion. I hold it my sacred duty to confirm what I have said and written by this sacrifice. And to what purpose would be the reunion of a moment? Henceforth I can have no delight with him, nor he with me.” Even when on his death-bed, he adhered sternly and steadfastly to this resolution, and declined an interview with his old friend and pupil. He had already published his “Reflections on the French Revolution,” which soon overshadowed and agitated Europe. Dublin University conferred on him the degree of LL.D. for the wondrous power with which he had pleaded for established governments; and Oxford communicated to him an address of thanks. Though long exposed to multitudinous annoyances, and irritated by inferior men, his intellect had not suffered in the slightest degree. Doubtless, his counsels in regard to Continental affairs were somewhat fierce, arbitrary, and impracticable, as was not unnatural at a time when blood was flowing like water. But his genius and knowledge were still gloriously conspicuous; and this crowning effort of his powers as a writer was more than equal in strength, ability, and imagination to the splendid achievements of his earlier and more vigorous years.

In 1795 a pension was bestowed upon him for his long and faithful services to the State. This, although the slightest reward which a grateful monarch could have bestowed on his most gifted subject for labors on which Englishmen, to the latest generations, will look back with pride, as they profit by his burning sentences and words of wisdom, brought upon him most rancorous attacks. He was still mourning the loss of his only son, a youth of great promise; but, nevertheless, produced an answer characterized by his tried ability and scornful sarcasm. But no defense was necessary; and he who had sacrificed his repose, pleasures, and satisfactions to what he considered his duty to the country, and who had ever, without fear, favor, or affection, obeyed the dictates of conscience and the promptings of patriotism, need have cared little for the puny assailants who now crawled forth with their ragged mops to bespatter the wide and broad mirror that reflected his unrivaled greatness to an admiring world.

At length, in 1797, his bodily health began, rapidly to decline, though his mental faculties continued unimpaired to the last. On the 8th of July in that year he expired, after a brief struggle, and was buried in Beaconsfield church, where a plain mural tablet has been erected to his immortal memory.

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