years of his political life. We shall not
call it an affectation in the instance of so great a man, but it paid
all the penalties of folly--and this was his propensity to feel, or at
least to express, a personal affection for the men whom he politically
followed. Even of Hamilton, the most supercilious and least loveable
of mankind, Burke speaks with a tenderness absolutely ridiculous
amongst politicians. Of Lord Rockingham he seldom speaks but in a tone
of romance, singularly inapplicable to that formal and frigid figure
of aristocracy. Of Fox, in latter days, he spoke in a sentimental tone
worthy only of a lover on the French stage; and, in all these
instances, he was doubtless laughed at, notwithstanding all his
sensibilities. With the highest admiration of his genius, we must
believe, for the sake of his understanding, that he adopted this style
merely for fashion's sake; for familiarity, which is akin to fondness,
as we are told by the poets that pity is akin to love, was much the
foolish fashion of the day. Men of the highest rank, and doubtless of
the haughtiest arrogance, were called Tom, and Dick, and Harry; and
this silliness was the language of high life, until the French
Revolution and the democratic war at home taught them, that if they
adopted the phraseology of their own footmen, their footmen would
probably take possession of their title-deeds. The hollowness of
public life is as soon discovered as the haughtiness of public men. A
man of heart like Burke ought to have disdained even the language of
courtiership, and while he observed the decorums of society, scorned
to stoop even to the phraseology of humiliation. But one of the most
curious features of this obsolete day is the manner in which the
country was disposed of. No game of whist, in one of the lordly clubs
of St James's Square, was ever more exclusively played. It was simply
a question whether his Grace of Bedford would be content with a
quarter or a half of the cabinet, or whether the Marquis of Rockingham
would be satisfied with two-fifths, or the Earl of Shelburne should
have all or should share power with the Duke of Portland. In all those
barterings and borrowings we never hear the name of the nation. No
whisper announces that there is such a thing in existence as the
people. No allusion ever proceeds from the stately lips, or offends
the "ears polite," of the embroidered conclave, referring to either
the interests, the feelings, or the ne