For six years the Bristol electors were content to be represented by a man of this independence.  They never, however, really acquiesced in the principle that a member of Parliament owes as much to his own convictions as to the will of his constituents.  In 1778 a bill was brought into Parliament, relaxing some of the restrictions imposed upon Ireland by the atrocious fiscal policy of Great Britain.  The great mercantile centres raised a furious outcry, and Bristol was as blind and as boisterous as Manchester and Glasgow.  Burke not only spoke and voted in favour of the commercial propositions, but urged that the proposed removal of restrictions on Irish trade did not go nearly far enough.  There was none of that too familiar casuistry, by which public men argue themselves out of their consciences in a strange syllogism, that they can best serve the country in Parliament; that to keep their seats they must follow their electors; and that therefore, in the long run, they serve the country best by acquiescing in ignorance and prejudice.  Anybody can denounce an abuse.  It needs valour and integrity to stand forth against a wrong to which our best friends are most ardently committed.  It warms our hearts to think of the noble courage with which Burke faced the blind and vile selfishness of his own supporters.  He reminded them that England only consented to leave to the Irish in two or three instances the use of the natural faculties which God had given them.  He asked them whether Ireland was united to Great Britain for no other purpose than that we should counteract the bounty of Providence in her favour; and whether, in proportion as that bounty had been liberal, we were to regard it as an evil to be met with every possible corrective?  In our day there is nobody of any school who doubts that Burke’s view of our trade policy towards Ireland was accurately, absolutely, and magnificently right.  I need not repeat the arguments.  They made no mark on the Bristol merchants.  Burke boldly told them that he would rather run the risk of displeasing than of injuring them.  They implored him to become their advocate.  “I should only disgrace myself,” he said; “I should lose the only thing which can make such abilities as mine of any use to the world now or hereafter.  I mean that authority which is derived from the opinion that a member speaks the language of truth and sincerity, and that he is not ready to take up or lay down a great political system for the convenience of the hour; that he is in Parliament to support his opinion of the public good, and does not form his opinion in order to get into Parliament or to continue in it."[1]

[Footnote 1:  Two Letters to Gentlemen in Bristol, 1778.]