Hume, "can be a stronger proof of the fury of the times, than that lord Russel, notwithstanding
the virtue and humanity of his character, seconded the house of commons in the barbarous scruple of the sheriffs" on the power of the king to remit the hanging and quartering of
lord Stafford, that innocent victim to his pure attachment to God. Afterwards, when lord Russel was himself condemned, the king, in remitting the same part of the sentence for treason, said, "he shall find, that I am possessed of that prerogative, which, in the case of lord Stafford, he thought proper to deny me."
I cannot here refrain from contrasting the intelligence, the spirit, and the wisdom of that great and distinguished statesman, Charles James Fox, with the tame and adoptive, though virulent, disposition of a writer, who, in another part of his pamphlet, has dared to warn every man from speaking in favour of the catholic priests of Ireland, lest he should be provoked to overwhelm the whole body with damning proofs—proofs charitably kept in petto, by this insinuator of more than he chooses to say. Speaking of one of the imaginary popish plots, Mr. Fox expresses himself thus: "Wherefore, if this question were to be decided upon the ground of authority, the reality of the plot
would be admitted; but there are cases, where reason speaks so plainly, as to make all argument drawn from authority of no avail, and this is surely one of them." And, a few pages after, we have the following striking passage: "Even after the dissolution of his last parliament, when he had so far subdued his enemies as to be no longer under any apprehensions from them, the king did not think it worth while to save the life of Plunket, the popish archbishop of Armagh, of whose innocence no doubt could be entertained. But this is not to be wondered at, since, in all transactions relative to the popish plot, minds, of a very different cast from Charles's, became, as by some fatality, divested of all their wonted sentiments of justice and humanity. Who can read, without horror, the account of that savage murmur of applause, which broke out upon one of the villains at the bar swearing positively to Stafford's having proposed the murder of the king? And how is this horror deepened when we reflect, that in that odious cry were, probably,
mingled the voices of men to whose memory every lover of the English constitution is bound to pay the tribute of gratitude and respect! Even after condemnation, lord Russel himself, whose character is wholly (this instance excepted) free from the stain of rancour or cruelty, stickled for the severer mode of executing the sentence, in a manner which his fear for the king's establishing a precedent of pardoning in cases of impeachment (for this, no doubt, was his motive) cannot satisfactorily excuse[[20]]." Now what does the writer of the pamphlet before me say? "It is fashionable, with many reasoners, to treat all history as a fable, and to set up for themselves in matters of policy, in defiance of the testimony of antiquity. These persons would assign the same office to the records of past ages, as they would to the stern lights of a vessel, which serve only to throw a light over the path which has been passed, and not over that which lies before us. I trust, however, that there are yet many among us who
have not been so taught." It is, indeed, but too fashionable to put up fantastic reasoning against authority, and particularly against sacred authority; but reason, which knows to distinguish the nature of authority; reason, which is bold in the affairs of men, and humble in its permitted intercourse with God; reason, as Fox and Hume, and all historians worthy the title, convince us, steps not out of its province when it interposes to rectify misleading records or historical assertions; and in no case is it more eminently required than in the history of the order of Jesus, which passion, interest, and ability have united to disfigure. What is meant by the allusion to stern lights I am at a loss to conjecture. I am not much disposed, in a work of this kind, to go into verbal or rhetorical criticism; but when a man writes with such pompous and despotic decision as this author does, one has a right to expect of him, when he amuses himself with figurative language, a clear notion of what he aims at. When, therefore, he insinuates that such reasoners as Hume
and Fox are reprehensible for serving records of past ages like stern lights of a vessel, instead of like modern moons to carriages (for moons evidently ran in the writer's head), we are puzzled between what he says and what he means. From his own words we are bound to take it for granted that he means to condemn reasoning, and to approve of a pertinacious adherence to records, however inconsistent and contradictory; whereas, by his intended simile, he blames the reasoners for making use of records; for, if stern lights must serve as a simile, records are certainly more analogous to them than to carriage moons, which are concurrent aids, that show the driver nothing but the way before him, and are not of the least use to those travellers who are coming after on the same road; stern lights, on the contrary, are intimations at sea, from those who go before to those who follow, of the track to be pursued. The truth, I believe, is, that the author does not know the use of stern lights, and imagines that mariners illuminate aft to amuse fishes in
the wakes of their ships. Records, no doubt, are moral, as ship lanthorns are physical lights to guide; but treachery or ignorance, in either, may mislead, in which case the seaman will consult his compass and the inquirer his reason[[21]].