From his earliest days Burke had been the eager friend of people in distress.  While he was still a student at the Temple, or a writer for the booksellers, he picked up a curious creature in the park, in such unpromising circumstances that he could not forbear to take him under his instant protection.  This was Joseph Emin, the Armenian, who had come to Europe from India with strange heroic ideas in his head as to the deliverance of his countrymen.  Burke instantly urged him to accept the few shillings that he happened to have in his purse, and seems to have found employment for him as a copyist, until fortune brought other openings to the singular adventurer.  For foreign visitors Burke had always a singular considerateness.  Two Brahmins came to England as agents of Ragonaut Rao, and at first underwent intolerable things rather from the ignorance than the unkindness of our countrymen.  Burke no sooner found out what was passing than he carried them down to Beaconsfield, and as it was summer-time, he gave them for their separate use a spacious garden-house, where they were free to prepare their food and perform such rites as their religion prescribed.  Nothing was so certain to command his fervid sympathy as strict adherence to the rules and ceremonies of an ancient and sacred ordering.

If he never failed to perform the offices to which we are bound by the common sympathy of men, it is satisfactory to think that Burke in return received a measure of these friendly services.  Among those who loved him best was Dr. Brocklesby, the tender physician who watched and soothed the last hours of Johnson.  When we remember how Burke’s soul was harassed by private cares, chagrined by the untoward course of public events, and mortified by neglect from friends no less than by virulent reproach from foes, it makes us feel very kindly towards Brocklesby, to read what he wrote to Burke in 1788:—­

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND—­My veneration of your public conduct for many years past, and my real affection for your private virtues and transcendent worth, made me yesterday take a liberty with you in a moment’s conversation at my house, to make you an instant present of L1000, which for years past I had by will destined as a testimony of my regard on my decease.  This you modestly desired me not to think of; but I told you what I now repeat, that unfavoured as I have lived for a long life, unnoticed professionally by any party of men, and though unknown at court, I am rich enough to spare to virtue (what others waste in vice) the above sum, and still reserve an annual income greater than I spend.  I shall receive at the India House a bill I have discounted for L1000 on the 4th of next month, and then shall be happy that you will accept this proof of my sincere love and esteem, and let me add, Si res ampla domi similisque affectibus esset, I should be happy to repeat the like every year.

The mere transcription of the friendly man’s good letter has something of the effect of an exercise of religion.  And it was only one of a series of kind acts on the part of the same generous giver.