The Origin of the Distinction of Ranks. John Millar

When a nation, depraved by previous servitude, rises to assert privileges long trodden under foot, it were vain to expect regularity of proceedings, or even constant justice of intention: Yet for a considerable time, the conduct of the Assembly and that of the nation, with occasional exceptions, was firm, resolute, and temperate.

      The spirit of freedom seemed to be aroused in this country, by the force of example, and, as might be expected, it was, by some, carried to the most extravagant lengths. Mr. Millar, who had always considered government as instituted for the good of the people, and who had been accustomed to examine all political institutions by this criterion alone, treated with the utmost contempt all assertion of metaphysical Rights, inconsistent with practical utility: But, while he ridiculed the idea of imprescriptible, indefeasible, right in the people, to conduct the affairs of Government, he was aware that the doctrines then afloat were of a popular nature, and he thought the best and only solid refutation of them, was such a reform of par-<cxv>liament, as, in itself highly desirable, had now become almost necessary, to rally the great body of the nation around the constitution. Actuated by such motives, he became a zealous member of the society of the Friends of the People, and, with those great characters whom he venerated, willingly exposed himself to obloquy in performing what he considered as an important duty to his country.

      The inconsiderate violence of the Republicans of France, on the one hand, and the obvious determination of the Court, on the other, to obey the forms and evade the spirit of the new constitution, soon hurled the benevolent, but misguided, Monarch from his throne, and exposed the country to the most imminent danger of subjugation by a foreign power. Feeling every respect for the motives and characters of the Brissotine party, Mr. Millar regretted deeply that want of energy, of combination, and of resource, which unfitted them to contend either with their foreign or domestic foes. He was no way surprised to see the people, jealous after having been repeatedly betrayed, when struggling for the existence of their country, at last throw themselves into the arms of a faction, odious from its ferocity, but, able, prompt, and energetic. No person could lament more sincerely the disgusting and atrocious scenes which marked<cxvi> the administration of Robespierre in characters of blood; but his horror for such atrocities was always accompanied with the most lively indignation at that combination of the Princes of Europe, to which alone he ascribed the continental war, the destruction of the Brissotines, and the acquiescence of the nation in a system, which, however horrible in itself, was represented as the only means of opposing the dismemberment, or total conquest, of the state.

      The imbecility and rapacity of the Directory excited the most sovereign contempt;²⁷ and Mr. Millar, though he was far from approving of the means by which Buonaparte rose to supreme power, and still farther from approving of the constitution he established, acknowledged that this new revolution had been rendered almost unavoidable by previous misconduct, and trusted to the melioration of the Government, at the period of a general peace.

      Before this event took place, Mr. Millar was no more. Had he lived to witness the servility of France, under the present system, he would have been grieved by so melancholy an illustration of his own remark. “Even in countries,” says he, “where the people have made vigorous efforts to meliorate their government, how often has the collision of parties, the opposite attractions of public and private interest, the fermentation of numberless discordant ele-<cxvii>ments, produced nothing at last, but a residue of despotism.”^* But Mr. Millar’s sanguine disposition, even under all these disappointments, would have found reason still to hope for a final result less fatal to the future destinies of man. He would have remembered that England, after a noble and successful struggle against regal tyranny, sunk for a time under the arts of a hypocrite, the corruption of a profligate, and the sanguinary violence of a bigot: but that she roused herself at last, shook off her fetters, and established a constitution which has been the admiration of the world. So would he have expected France to rise from her depression, when the minds of men, no longer appalled by recent horrors, should return to reason, and again feel the salutary influences of patriotism and hope.

      It must be sufficiently obvious that, to a man of Mr. Millar’s way of thinking, the whole conduct of the British Ministry towards France must have appeared highly reprehensible. Having seen them remain quiet spectators, and even refuse their mediation, when that country was threatened with subjugation, he could not easily credit that solicitude which they afterwards expressed for the ba-<cxviii>lance of power: Finding that Holland made no requisition for our protection, and recollecting that the same Ministers had taken no steps whatever, when the Emperor, some years before, had threatened to open the Scheldt by force, he could scarcely ascribe their interference at this juncture to a pure love of justice, or a scrupulous adherence to treaties: Being well convinced that their real intention was to force a Monarchical Government on France, he paid little regard to the abhorrence they expressed at that decree of the Convention, which, until explained, and restricted, threatened the most unjustifiable interference in the internal policy of independent states. Looking on all these as mere pretences, he was well convinced that the war originated in a determination to prevent the reforms meditated at home, to re-establish the ancient despotism in France, and to rivet the fetters of the rest of Europe. He rejoiced that the defeat of a combination, formed on such principles, though for the present unfavourable to the balance of power, rendered abortive the project of shackling, by open force, the spirit of Freedom, and cramping for ever the improvement of man: and he deeply lamented that the atrocities of the French insured complete success to one of the objects of the war,<cxix> by checking the progress of reform in Britain, and injuring the cause of liberty over the world.

      So soon after the awful events to which we have been witnesses, it would be presumptuous to say that Mr. Millar’s views on this subject were always wise; that he never was deceived by his own passions, nor hurried away by those of others. In considering a situation of affairs, so new, so interesting, and so complicated, he might, occasionally, be misled by hasty or partial views, his hopes might be excited by his wishes, and his expectations might often be disappointed by the event. In the heat of debate, too, he might sometimes be hurried into assertions or illustrations, which his cooler judgment would have disowned; and, at a time when political rancour rose to an unexampled height, it is no way surprising, that the open and manly avowal of his sentiments should have exposed him to much calumny and misrepresentation. But those who knew his worth always did justice to the purity of his motives: and it is with much pleasure I quote the testimony of one of his Friends, who entertained opinions of the French Revolution and the late war, directly opposite to his. “However much,” says Mr. Jardine, “we may have differed from him on these subjects, respecting his zeal and good intentions, there can be, as I con-<cxx>ceive, but one opinion. No little ideas of private interest, no narrow views of advantage or emolument, sunk him to the level of party politicians; but firm, resolute, and decided, he was, from first to last, the enlightened and manly defender of what he conceived to be, The Rights and Liberties of Mankind.”

      Mr. Millar’s virtues were the spontaneous growth of an understanding strong, enlightened, and capacious; of a heart overflowing with benevolence and sensibility. Of these, his uncommon candour in judging of his own claims, and those of others, was one of the most conspicuous. Never was his opinion warped by his private interest, never did he palliate or excuse that in himself, which he would have blamed in his friend. His conduct was uniformly guided by the most delicate attention to the rights, claims, and expectations of others, by the strictest sense of honour. Always aware of the tendency of a man’s interest, and desires, to pervert his judgment, against such partiality and self-deception, he guarded with the most vigilant care; anxious not only to abstain from all injustice, but to avoid every suspicion, in his own mind, of his<cxxi> having done what any person informed of the circumstances, could possibly disapprove.

      This delicate purity of conduct is the more remarkable, as Mr. Millar’s temper was uncommonly sanguine. What he wished he always convinced himself was probable; what he dreaded he seldom allowed himself to think could take place. His ingenuity in deceiving himself was sometimes most surprising. The slightest favourable circumstances were so combined as to seem a solid foundation for confidence; the smallest doubt of the truth of unwelcome intelligence was strengthened and corroborated, till it lulled, if it could not entirely overcome, apprehension. Even when there was an end of hope and of fear; when a disagreeable or distressing event had