ng as Burke's writings display we are desired
to seek for faults, we shall find them, not in the want, but only
in the exuberance and overflow of beauties. The palate becomes
cloyed by so much richness, the eye dazzled by so much glare. His
metaphors, fraught with fancy though they be, are often bold; they
seem both too numerous and strained too far; they sometimes cease
to please, and occasionally border even on the ludicrous and low.
Of this defect, as of his excellences, a single instance shall
suffice me. In the "Letter to a Noble Lord," in 1796, Burk
compares the Duke of Bedford to a lamb already marked for
slaughter by the Marats and Robespierres of France, but still
unconscious of his doom, "pleased to the last," and who "licks the
hand just raised to shed his blood." Thus far the simile is
conducted with admirable force and humor. But not satisfied with
his success, Burke goes further; he insists on leading us into the
shambles, and makes the revolutionary butchers inquire as to their
ducal victim, "how he cuts up? how he tallows in the caul or on
the kidneys?" Apart from the beauty of the style, the value, as I
conceive, of Burke's writings, is subject to one not unimportant
deduction. For most lofty and far-sighted views in politics they
will never be consulted in vain. On the other hand, let no man
expect to find in them just or accurate, or even consistent,
delineations of contemporary character. Where eternal principles
are at stake, Burke was inaccessible to favor or to fear. Where
only persons are concerned, he was often misled by resentments or
by partialities, and allowed his fancy full play. The rich stores
of Burke's memory and the rare powers of his mind were not
reserved solely for his speeches or his writings; they appeared to
no less advantage in his familiar conversation. Even the most
trivial topics could elicit, even the most ignorant hearers could
discern, his genius. "Sir," said Dr. Johnson, "if Burke were to go
into a stable to see his horse dressed, the hostler would say, We
have had an extraordinary man here!" On other occasions, also, the
author of "Rasselas" extols him as "never unwilling to begin
conversation, never at a loss to carry it on, never in haste to
leave it off." His attempts at wit, indeed, were not always
successful, and he might be