American Independence and the French Revolution (1760-1801). Various

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СКАЧАТЬ who was graciously pleased to admit of the reasons you gave for not accepting office, and to approve of the respectful openings some part of the letter afforded.

      Having received the King’s commands to consider of the most becoming method of carrying his intentions into execution, I have lost no time in my researches. The English civil list would by no means answer; the Irish had objections: one only thing remained, that could possibly serve the King’s generous purpose. This his Majesty approves of, and has directed me accordingly to acquaint you, that as you declined accepting any office, his Majesty will confer the dignity of peerage on Lady Hester Pitt, to descend through her ladyship to your sons, with a grant of three thousand pounds per annum, on the plantation duties, to yourself and any two other lives you shall name. These unusual marks of the royal approbation cannot fail to be agreeable to a mind like yours. Permit me to assure you, that the communicating of them gives me the greatest pleasure.

      I am, Sir, with unfeigned regard, Your most obedient humble servant, Bute.

Mr. Pitt to the Earl of Bute, October 8, 1761. [From a draught in Mr. Pitt’s handwriting.]

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      I have not words to express the sentiments of veneration and gratitude with which I receive the unbounded effects of beneficence and grace, which the most benign of sovereigns has condescended to bestow on me, and on those most dear to me.

      Your Lordship will not wonder if the sensations which possess my whole breast refuse me the power of describing their extent, and leave me only to beg your Lordship will be so good as to lay me and Lady Hester at the King’s feet, and to offer for us to his Majesty the genuine tribute of the truly feeling heart; which I will dare to hope, the same royal benevolence which showers on the unmeritorious such unlimited benefits may deign to accept with equal condescension and goodness.

      I am, &c.

       W. Pitt.

THE STATE OF THE PRISONS.

       Source.—Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield (Chap. XXVII.).

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      The next morning I communicated to my wife and children the scheme I had planned of reforming the prisoners, which they received with universal disapprobation, alleging the impossibility and impropriety of it; adding that my endeavours would no way contribute to their amendment, but might probably disgrace my calling.

      “Excuse me,” returned I, “these people, however fallen, are still men; and that is a very good title to my affections. Good counsel rejected returns to enrich the giver’s bosom; and though the instruction I communicate may not mend them, yet it will assuredly mend myself. If these wretches, my children, were princes, there would be thousands ready to offer their ministry; but in my opinion the heart that is buried in a dungeon is as precious as that seated upon a throne. Yes, my treasures, if I can mend them I will; perhaps they will not all despise me; perhaps I may catch up even one from the gulf, and there will be great gain; for is there upon earth a gem so precious as the human soul?”

      Thus saying, I left them and descended to the common prison, where I found the prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and each prepared with some gaol-trick to play upon the doctor. Thus, as I was going to begin, one turned my wig awry; as if by accident, and then asked my pardon. A second, who stood at some distance, had a knack of spitting through his teeth, which fell in showers upon my book. A third would cry, “Amen!” in such an affected tone as gave the rest great delight. A fourth had slily picked my pocket of my spectacles. But there was one whose trick gave more universal pleasure than all the rest; for observing the manner in which I had disposed my books on the table before me, he very dexterously displaced one of them, and put an obscene jest-book of his own in the place. However, I took no notice of all that this mischievous group of little beings could do, but went on, perfectly sensible that what was ridiculous in my attempt would excite mirth only the first or second time, while what was serious would be permanent. My design succeeded, and in less than six days some were penitent, and all attentive.

      It was now that I applauded my perseverance and address, at thus giving sensibility to wretches divested of every moral feeling, and now began to think of doing them temporal service also, by rendering their situation somewhat more comfortable. Their time had hitherto been divided between famine and excess, tumultuous riot and bitter repining. Their only employment was quarrelling among each other, playing at cribbage, and cutting tobacco-stoppers. From this last mode of idle industry I took the hint of setting such as chose to work at cutting pegs for tobacconists and shoemakers, the proper wood being bought by a general subscription, and, when manufactured, sold by my appointment; so that each earned something every day—a trifle, indeed, but sufficient to maintain him.

      I did not stop here, but instituted fines for the punishment of immorality, and rewards for peculiar industry. Thus in less than a fortnight I had formed them into something social and humane, and had the pleasure of regarding myself as a legislator, who had brought men from their native ferocity into friendship and obedience.

      And it were highly to be wished that legislative power would thus direct the law rather to reformation than to severity; that it would seem convinced that the work of eradicating crimes is not by making punishments familiar, but formidable. Then, instead of our present prisons, which find or make men guilty, which enclose wretches for the commission of one crime, and return them, if returned alive, fitted for the perpetration of thousands, we should see, as in other parts of Europe, places of penitence and solitude, where the accused might be attended by such as could give them repentance if guilty, or new motives to virtue if innocent. And this, but not the increasing punishments, is the way to mend a State: nor can I avoid even questioning the validity of that right which social combinations have assumed of capitally punishing offences of a slight nature. In cases of murder, their right is obvious, as it is the duty of us all, from the law of self-defence, to cut off that man who has shown a disregard for the life of another. Against such all nature rises in arms, but it is not so against him who steals my property. Natural law gives me no right to take away his life, as by that the horse he steals is as much his property as mine. If, then, I have any right, it must be from a compact made between us, that he who deprives the other of his horse shall die. But this is a false compact; because no man has a right to barter his life, any more than to take it away, as it is not his own. And, besides, the compact is inadequate, and would be set aside even in a court of modern equity, as there is a great penalty for a very trifling inconvenience, since it is far better that two men should live than that one man should ride. But a compact that is false between two men is equally so between a hundred and a hundred thousand; for as ten millions of circles can never make a square, so the united voice of myriads cannot lend the smallest foundation to falsehood. It is thus that reason speaks, and untutored nature says the same thing. Savages that are directed by natural law alone are very tender of the lives of each other; they seldom shed blood but to retaliate former cruelty.

      Our Saxon ancestors, fierce as they were in war, had but few executions in times of peace; and in all commencing governments, that have the print of nature still strong upon them, scarcely any crime is held capital.

      It is among the citizens of a refined community that penal laws, which are in the hands of the rich, are laid upon the poor. Government, while it grows older, seems to acquire the moroseness of age; and as if our property were become dearer in proportion as it increased—as if the more enormous our wealth, the more extensive our fears—all our possessions are paled up with new edicts every day, and hung round with gibbets to scare every invader.

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