Since it was acknowledged even by foreigners that England was the most enlightened and the most liberal country in Europe, Englishmen were so fortunate as to be able to reconcile their national instinct with the humanitarian sympathies of the age. But the expression of their patriotism had taken a philosophical form. They gave a reason for it. They found the explanation of their British pride in the superiority of their institutions and customs. Thus Cowper, though but little of a philosopher, proclaims England the first among nations because she is free, and adds that she would cease to be the first if she lost her liberty. As soon, therefore, as their government ceased to be wise and liberal, their minds became disturbed. The American war divided the English into two camps. Many protested against the war as unjustifiable, praised the Americans for their energetic resistance, and applauded their victory. It was the first blow to the national prejudice, which, in the breasts of many Englishmen, was worsted in its conflict with the ideas of justice and liberty. But the Americans were of British descent; the war waged against them had something the character of a civil war, and therefore the test was inconclusive. The sacrifice demanded of patriotism was not sufficient. It was when war between France and England became imminent that a real crisis occurred in the minds of those Englishmen who looked upon the Revolution with favour. For the first time it was seen that the sentiment of the nation was not united in presence of the foreigner, and—of all foreigners-in presence of the traditional foe! The mass of the people were no doubt unconscious of this painful struggle. They had not been affected by philosophical ideas; their old antipathy was unchanged. The feelings which induced Wordsworth, when a child, to kill all the white butterflies "because they were Frenchmen," might have been ascribed to the generality of the English people. But there is something characteristic and hopeful, even in 1 See among others Thomson's poem Liberty (1734-6), and The Remonstrance of Shakespeare (1749), by Akenside. 2 The Task, v. 446-509. 3 Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, 1802. Knight, Life of Wordsworth, i. p. 300. the spectacle of this indignant minority declaring its partiality for a neighbouring people at war with Great Britain. Hitherto religious faith had apparently been the only sentiment capable of prevailing over the spirit of patriotism. But in 1793 it was philosophical faith that triumphed over it-though, as we shall see, at the cost of the bitterest anguish. What, then, were my emotions, when in arms But in the minds of all ingenuous youth, Change and subversion from that hour. No shock I had been travelling: this a stride at once And pliant harebell, swinging in the breeze Yea, afterwards-truth most painful to record!- When Englishmen by thousands were o'erthrown, It was a grief,— A conflict of sensations without name, 1 The allusion here is probably to the battle of Hondschoote (6th and 8th September 1793), and to the forced embarkation of the Duke of York at Cuxhaven. To their great Father, prayers were offered up, Whom no one owned, sate silent, shall I add, Whom does he hold responsible for this grievous crisis, and for the suffering which it brought to others besides himself? Neither in 1793, nor in 1804 when he wrote The Prelude, does he dream of laying it at the door of France. Not that her adversaries were unprovided with arguments. After the death of Louis XVI. the Convention itself, in a paroxysm of frantic rage, had provoked every kingdom that had shown indignation at his execution. It had abetted the intrigues of revolutionists in London. Though it had claimed with justice the right of every nation to manage its own affairs, the Convention had committed the blunder of interfering in those of others. And it was from the Convention that the declaration of war had come. But Wordsworth had no fault to find with it as yet. Did it not possess a faith that justified proselytism? Were not its internal troubles some excuse for folly and rashness? He had no ill-feelings save against the English ministers, whose action had made war inevitable. They knew no principle but that of their own immediate interests. They, and they alone, were accountable for the blood which had been shed and the despair of the English enthusiasts. And among these ministers there was one on whom, as the most powerful and conspicuous, all this vigorous hatred was concentrated, namely, William Pitt. When the Revolution broke out, Pitt, in contrast to Burke, had preserved a correct and impassive demeanour. He was neither wrathful nor sympathetic. He does not appear to have taken the trouble to find out whether the new ideas were salutary or dangerous, and sought only to further the interests of his country. Provided that the French Revolution confined itself within the French frontier, and did not provoke imitation, he would willingly have left it to realize 1 The Prelude, x. 263-300. itself without a word of blame or praise. He hindered the war to the best of his ability, and, when it had broken. out, apparently made it his chief object to prevent France from taking Holland. His imperturbable attitude might justly excite the admiration of diplomatists, but at a time when the hearts of young men were glowing with generous love for humanity, nothing created such aversion as this national exclusiveness. The narrow and mistrustful patriotism of Pitt seemed to them the very opposite of the true patriotic spirit. In their eyes England's greatness did not depend on a few yards of territory, but on the position which their country took among progressive nations. Thus Pitt brought upon his own head the implacable and, upon the whole, discerning hatred of the friends of the Revolution. A great deal was forgiven to Burke, as much on account of the services he had formerly rendered to Freedom, as on account of the sincerity and depth of his conservative faith. His very vehemence was, as it were, a tribute to the importance of the Revolution. There was something romantic, something sentimental and disinterested, in the crusade which he preached against the French Republic. But Pitt appeared as the protector of the commercial interests of England abroad, and at home as the champion of the rich against those poorer classes whom he treated with crushing scorn.1 The Liberals mourned over Burke, but Pitt they loaded with abuse. It is curious to compare two early sonnets written by Coleridge on the two men. Burke is the dearly-loved son of Freedom, who gently chides his errors; Pitt a Judas Iscariot saluting his country with the kiss of hypocrisy, and piercing her side with bloodthirsty lance.2 Revolutionary spirits in England at once subscribed heartily and unanimously to the decree whereby the Convention declared Pitt an enemy to the human race. And when the first frenzy of their anger had cooled, and they came to reflect upon their hatred, they sought the justification for their attack upon him in his character as a man. For a portrait of Pitt, not perhaps as he actually was, but as, at any rate, he appeared 1 Speech of Pitt, 16th May 1794. 2 Sonnets on Eminent Characters (December 1794). to his enemies, we must again turn to Coleridge.1 Pitt Oh! much have they to account for, who could tear, From the best youth in England their dear pride, Their joy, in England; this, too, at a time In which worst losses easily might wear The best of names, when patriotic love as His 1 Portrait of Pitt by Coleridge (who at this date was no longer an advocate of revolution). The Morning Post, 19th March 1800. This sketch has been reprinted in The Life of S. T. Coleridge, by James Gillman (London, 1838), pp. 195-207. |