Complete Works of Edmund Burke

by Edmund Burke

  Had many of our Gentlemen the same just Way of thinking, we should no doubt see this Nation in a short time in the most flourishing Condition, notwithstanding all the Disadvantages we labour under. But while they proceed on a quite Opposite Plan, it can never emerge, though we were possess’d of many more Advantages than we are able to boast of.

  THE REFORMER No. 8

  THURSDAY the 17th of March, 1747-8.

  Parcus NUGARUM Cultor et infrequens

  Insanientis dum Sapientice

  Consultus erro? Nunc retrorsum

  Vela dare, atque iterate cursus

  Cogor relictos. ——

  Hor.

  WHEN an Author sits down to write, he has two Choices before him, whether he will follow that Way his Judgment tells him is right, or give in to the more fashionable one of amusing the Town with Follies adapted to the reigning Humour. I always thought it very dishonourable to deal doubly with the Publick, tho’ they themselves were weak enough to countenance the Cheat: But Experience, which teaches a Man Wisdom, may teach him afterwards that it is not always safe to make too free a Use of it; since every Step thereto is a Removal from the Gross of Mankind, and that to live as an Inhabitant of the World a Man should be naturalized to all its Follies.

  I was partly confirmed in this Opinion, by a Discourse I had the other Day with one of the Smarts of this City, who assured me among other Things, that the Person who call’d himself the REFORMER, did not understand the Genius of the Place he lived in, if he thought by dull Reasoning to win the People from their most beloved Pastimes; that every one had a Liberty of chusing his own Pleasures; and that those which gratified the Senses most, with least Charge to the Understanding, were doubtless the most eligible; that to rail at what the People lik’d, was the worst Way in the World to gain their Esteem; that what he call’d obscene, low and trifling was look’d upon by them in quite another light, and that if he did not reverse his Maxims, and talk in a Stile more suitable to People’s inclinations, in a short time very few would read him. This Charge, tho’ I knew it to be trivial, yet being comformable to general Taste, began to convince me I had been hitherto on a wrong Scent. “Shall I labour the Advancement “of Learning, when the Nobility, whose Care it ought to be to protect it, “think it not worth their Notice? or strive at a Correction of Manners, “when the very Clergy themselves are so indolent upon the Occasion? why “should the Concern of solid Sense and sound Judgment weigh heavier on “my Spirits than any other modern Writer’s? or why should I make such “a Stir about Wit, when even the Play-Writers themselves can do without “it? who am I, that I should pretend to be better and wiser than other “Men?” In short, courteous Readers, I now perceive I have only been deceiving you and myself hitherto, and the only Way I have to make you amends is to alter my Conduct; and that I may not be behindhand with the other Beaux Esprit of the Age, will now begin, at the Fashion is, to give Chocolate.

  Sir Dilberry Diddle, in a Letter to Jacky Wagtail, reasons after this manner.

  Dear Jacky,

  I Received the Pin-cushion by the hands of Billy Dimple, with your Remarks on Mr F —— — ‘s celebrated Performance. The Pin-cushion I thank you for, but must beg leave to dissent from you in that Part of your Letter, where you say, the Inventor of that Entertainment is the greatest Man now living. I grant you his Mimickry is all in the highest Taste, and such as might be an Amusement for the politest Assembly: but in praising him you seem to forget the Perfections of our own Friend and Companion Billy Fribble; who, though no Player, has by being always in the Ladies Company, acquired such a Talent of taking them off, that there is not an Air down from the first Lady of Quality, to the upstart affected Milliner, that he cannot most perfectly mimic. Add to this, that he has a most inimitable Faculty of yelping like a Lap-dog; insomuch that he has by many been mistaken for the Original. Besides, I have just received a Letter from Will Whiffle, who tells me since his Arrival in Ireland, he is become acquainted with one T —— s S —— n, who is a perfect Master of our new-found Nature, and will die in such a Manner, as to afford you the double Delight of a Hero and Harlequin, and who is so happy in an effeminate Carriage, and squeaking Tone of Voice, that he even fribilizes the most masculine characters; in short he seems to be so accomplish’d a Person (as Times now go) that were he here, I should be very fond of having him associated with our Club.

  I am, Dear Jacky,

  Yours eternally,

  DILBERRY DIDDLE.

  N.B. The foregoing Letter being dropt on purpose in one of the London Coffee-houses, by Jacky Wagtail, to let the World see what a choice Correspondent he had in Sir Dilberry was the Cause of its now appearing to the Publick.

  By this Letter ’tis easy to perceive, that Mr F— ‘s coming hither at such a Season, was at the Instigation of Jacky Wagtail, in order to supplant Mr S —— n in the favour of this City, by exhibiting Entertainments still more monstrous and incoherent than the other could furnish them with.

  And this Suspicion of F— ‘s Design will seem better grounded, when we consider, that at his first coming hither (as I am well assured) our Manager paid him a visit, at which Time he very kindly offer’d him the Use of his House, and proposed to co-operate with him in any Piece of new-fangled Folly they might devise together: But the other obstinately refus’d, as thinking by the Elasticity of his Parts he had got the Wind of him; so taking a little House he has set up for himself, where the other’s best and most constant Auditors are continually flocking to him.

  As a Countryman I cannot but pity Mr S —— — n’s Distress, and do sincerely advise him to be speedy in thinking of some Prevention to this Evil. It is his great Foible, that he is some times too nice in the choice of his Dullness, and will admit no kind of Buffoonery, that has not at the same time some smack of Learning or Politeness: Thus when the Statues leap from their Pedestals in All for Love, and fall a dancing for the Amusement of Anthony and his Queen, the People are to take Notice, that this is no ordinary Dance, such as F —— — e, or any illiterate Contriver would have made it, but the Pyrrick Dance, a Dance as well known in Egypt in those Days, as it is now in the Colledge of Dublin, where no doubt every deep-read Student can do it very well. But the Devil of it is, not one in five hundred of the Spectators knew the Difference between it and a common Country-Dance: so that the Manager’s noble Design was quite lost. Now I appeal to all Lovers of our present theatrical Performances, if instead of taking this strange Way of shewing his Learning, he had order’d M —— — l, as is the Custom in Puppet-Shews, to clap his Posteriors in Cleopatra’s Lap, the Jest had not been more intelligible and entertaining, and done more Honour to the Invention of the Manager; at least it would have brought him into the Way of securing full Houses, and this I take ought to be the only end of every Stage-Director. — B

  The following Letter coming from an Admirer of Mr Foote’s Entertainment, to shew our Impartiality to all Sides, we here, at the Writer’s Request, insert it.

  Mr Reformer, If you have any Regard for that Merit you profess yourself a Patron to, I desire you may go see Mr Foote’s Diversion, and then give us your Sentiments thereon; and if after seeing him you do not think him an excellent Player, as well as an ingenious Satyrist, I shall ever hereafter disside in my own Judgment. —

  I am, Sir,

  Yours,

  S. S.

  N.B. Enclos’d in the same Letter came the following Epigram:

  Foote’s Action, Satyr, and Grimace,

  Are surely of celestial Race;

  Since by all Authors it is given,

  That Momus is the FOOTE of Heaven.

  Sir,

  As you have promis’d a Criticism on what new Pieces were published, if you will give your Opinion of the Foundling, you will oblige a great many besides your constant Reader and humble Servant.

  L. S.

  THE REFORMER No. 10

  THURSDAY the 31st of March, 1748.

  Can they make Plays there that shall fit,

  The Publ
ic Humour with less Wit? — Hudib.

  WHEN any Thing new in the Dramatick Way is long expected by the Town, the polite Part of it who regard such Amusements, flatter themselves with the hopes of seeing in the Performance, some new Vein of Humour or untouch’d Character, besides the Pleasure they must have to think they live in an Age, not altogether barren of great Genius’s. But it has been our Misfortune, for many years past, to be deceiv’d in every Expectation of this kind. ’Tis true, its Novelty often sustains for a Time the dullest Performance. But that childish Fancy once worn out, the Bauble grows displeasing, nor can any Varnishing ever restore it to our Favour. The Suspicious Husband appear’d with all the Advantages that cou’d make a Piece well receiv’d. It was acted with Applause, the Ladies, and Gentlemen likest to Ladies, cry’d it up as an excellent Performance; Criticks wrote in favour of it; the Booksellers found the Profit in printing it; and almost every body the Worth of their Money in reading it — but alas! How soon was the Current chang’d — this immortal Piece had scarce arrived to its first Year, when every body began to discover, that what they were weak enough to admire, had neither Wit, Humour, Plot, Propriety of Characters, or any one of those Excellencies which distinguish Comedy from the meanest Dialogue.

  It is for this Reason, I am willing to give a short Character of a Play lately published, call’d the Foundling, a Performance, tho’ much superior to the other, as there may be found in it some Sparks of Wit, Turns of Humour, and a little aiming at Character — yet partakes so much of his Weakness and Insipidity, that a Degree lower would have made him his direct Parallel; their Gentlemen, their Fops, their Ladies, are all the same; their Judgment in conducting the Plot equal. And here I cannot but wonder at the great Barrenness of our modern Writers, who never give us a Play, which is not composed of such a sort of trite and trivial Characters, as they seem to have got one general Receipt for. — Two or three fine Gentlemen, a Rake, a Coxcomb, a pert Valet de Chambre, a Coquette, and a very fine modern Lady: If Invention be the Mark of Genius, as I am sure it is, the beating on in one invariable Track, is certainly the Sign of Dulness. This Play I shall call bad in no other Light, than of a Work which bears no Marks of Genius; otherwise, ’tis an innocent, and well-meant Piece, but partakes so little of the Vis Comica, that to call it a Comedy, would be debasing the Name, by applying it to a Piece, which for the little Room it affords to Action, cannot pretend to raise Emotions in us stronger than we may have from reading an ordinary Novel; from such Work it may be presumed by the Air of it the Author took his Fable. But our Authors reverse the Business of the Drama, and are fond of introducing Scenes of Distress in Comedy. Who were the first Inventors of this Weeping Comedy, I cannot tell. But Sir Richard Steele seems to have given it a Sanction in his Conscious Lovers, by the weeping of Indiana, which Absurdity he endeavoured to defend against the Criticks of those Times, by calling it an Effect of her extraordinary Joy, this excuse (lame as it is) is no Apology for those, who in a poor Imitation of him, make their Persons cry in down right earnest. Thus Lady Betty Modish in the Careless Husband, burst into Tears at being told her Faults, Clarinda in the Suspicious Husband does the same, being upbraided with hers, but in the Foundling, ’tis a pure Tragick Distress.

  ‘Twere trivial to observe what every one so well knows, that the Original, and true End of Comedy was, by ridiculing the Follies, and Vices of Men, to make them ashamed of them; hence it was establish’d as a Rule, that no Character should be introduc’d, which was not in some Part reproachable, because Nature has made them, and the Ends of Comedy require they should be drawn such; and here is the great Use of such Writers, who by observing the growing Follies of the Age they live in, (for every Age has its peculiar ones) nip them in the Bud. But our Modern Stage Directors think Satyr the greatest Fault in a Comedy, and as they know the relish of the Town, give high Encouragement to Plays that abound with Characters insipidly perfect, where Virtue is painted in an unnatural, and consequently an unamiable manner. Such is that of Fidelia! As for Bellmont, her Lover, he is a very common Character in modern Plays; but to be found no where else, an odd Mixture of Honour, Falshood, good Sense, ill principles, Love, Generosity, and Inhumanity — he gets a Lady in a very strange Manner, he rescues her at Midnight from the Hands of a Ruffian, who would have ravish’d her, and in order to treat her himself in the same manner, brings her to his Father’s House, where she is respectfully receiv’d, tho’ coming thither with all the Marks of an ill Woman, and is protected by the Family against the ill Designs of the young Gentleman, whose Penetration was such as he could not perceive how improper a Place his Father’s House was, to carry on such an Intrigue. The Character of the Colonel being that of Lord Morelove in the Careless Husband, needs not here to be mention’d, only to observe, with how much Success the excellent Writers of this Age have imitated Cibber. And the Absurdity of Faddles is too obvious. ’Tis common with Writers of Comedy (as indeed they should) to raise seeming Difficulties in the Plot, but they are more easily made than solv’d, for which Reason, ’tis surprizing to observe what miraculous Discoveries have been made to extricate the principal Person from these Embarrasing Circumstances. Dryden was famous in that Way, and this Author has not been behind-hand in the Improbability and Strangeness of his Discovery. I doubt whether such are allowable in Novels, but in Comedy where the greatest Probability should be preserv’d they are intolerable. To enter into a particular Criticism, on Works which have the true poetical Spirit in them, is but just; but to do the same with Pieces that have not, would be as ridiculous as to attempt the Cure of Blemishes on the outward Surface of a dead Man; when there is no Spirit in a Work, the Reprehension of particular Parts is vain; it is sufficient to say, that there being no Life in the Object, the best polishing and most regular Symmetry will never be able to recommend it; that inborn inexpressible Rule, that Men of Taste go by, is not to be flattered but by something that ravishes the Imagination, tho’ to a Head, which has no Perception of those Things, the most lifeless and terse will always be the most charming Performance.

  THE REFORMER No. 11

  THURSDAY the 7th of April, 1748.

  OUR Papers are sometimes employed on Subjects which we think useful, tho’ no present Occasion should suggest them, at other Times, the posture of Affairs affords us Matter of Speculation, and now the Season presents one, which it were equally blameable in us and all good Men to neglect.

  Pythagoras recommends to his Disciples, to pass the Close of each Day in Retirement, to revolve their past Actions, to contemplate useful Matters, and lay in proper Resolutions for their future Conduct; nor is it less wisely ordained in the Christian Polity, that certain Times recurring annually, should be devoted to Religion, lest the Mind too much softened by Pleasures, or overgrown with the Rust of worldly Cares, should forget its high Destination. I have read of Persons whom some Misfortune threw among barbarous People, where being habituated to their Company, they grew in Love with their Manners and never remembered or never desired to see their native Country. A small Time properly applied to Reflection, would prevent such a scandalous Degeneracy; and there is none who cannot spare it, cannot spare the smallest Part of their Time to provide for the longest of their Existence, where their Happiness, or Misery is not Precarious, or by Fits, but to endure without Interruption thro’ all Eternity.

  There are a Set of Men not infrequent in this City, who tho’ they allow of Morality, cry down reveal’d Religion, yet in their Practice, they make them equal, neglecting both; how weak an Obligation, Morality consider’d in itself would be, may be seen, by supposing Laws imposed on a Nation, without Rewards for those who kept, or Punishments for those who broke them. They are not true friends to Virtue, who would deprive it of any thing which serves to enforce or strengthen it; they are like the Wolves in the Fable, who enter’d into a Treaty with the Sheep, wherein it was stipulated, that they should dismiss the Dogs; and then they tore the flock to Pieces. These Men have so far interwoven their darling Appetites with every Thought, that th
eir most refined Judgments on Things become but Gratifications to a favourite Passion, and all the Actions resulting from thence, tho’ agreeable to their System of Morality, are not less opposite to Religion than right Reason, for herein they coincide, as those two only produce Actions which are called good and wise. Formerly an affectation of Singularity caused such Opinions; but now, to have no Taint of them, is almost as Singular, they have since got a Reason more substantial, they form a Set of Rules at one to indulge their Passions and lull their Conscience. Thus they sometimes deceive Men of Sense thro’ the hardiness of their Notions, and the Vulgar very often, from an Ability to talk more against Religion, than they can for it, and flush’d with this Appearance of Success, attribute that to a Defect in the Cause, which was merely in the Defender.

  The two greatest Enemies of Religion are the above-mentioned Infidelity and Blind Zeal, the former attacks it like an open Enemy, and the latter like an indiscreet Friend, does it more Harm than Good; the first gives rise to the Free-Thinkers, the latter to our Sectaries, a truly religious Life has the same Efficacy to the prevention of both. This would soon convince Unbelievers of the superior Power of Religion towards a Moral Life, and shew at the same time how much it exceeds all Systems of Philosophy, in supporting us under Misfortunes as that teaches us only to bear; but this to rejoice in them, by fastening our Thoughts on something indeed past our Comprehension, but not our Hopes: And even this Appearance of Religion would hinder many from throwing themselves into the Arms of the first false Teacher that offers, who with the Advantage of a Shew of Zeal, promises that Comfort they could not find before.