in founding, that "property has its duties as well as its rights."
Finally, argued Burke, heaping irony upon irony, the tax would lead
directly to the "separation" of the two Kingdoms both in interest and
affection. The Colonies would follow the Irish example, and thus a
principle of disunion and separation would pervade the whole Empire; the
bonds of common interest, knowledge, and sympathy which now knit it
together would everywhere be loosened, and a narrow, insulated, local
feeling and policy would be proportionately increased.[12] Such was
Burke's Imperialism, as evoked by an Irish measure which struck at the
root of a frightful social evil and of a vicious political system. But
the idea expressed by Burke--the spirit of his whole argument--went far
beyond this particular absentee tax or any similar tax proposed, as
happened in one instance, by a Colony. It was the superbly grandiose
expression, and all the more insidiously seductive in that it was so
grandiose, of a principle which all thinking men now know, or ought to
know, is the negation of Empire, which lost us America, which came
within an ace of losing us Canada, which might well have lost us South
Africa, and which has in very fact lost us, though not yet irrevocably,
the "affection," to use Burke's word, of Ireland. We may call local
patriotism "narrow and insulated," if we please, but we recognize now,
in every case save that of Ireland, that it is the only foundation for,
and the only stimulant to, Imperial patriotism.

Chatham, an Englishman of the English, was nevertheless a better
Irishman than Burke, and therefore a better Imperialist. "The tax," he
wrote, "was founded on strong Irish policy. England, it is evident,
profits by draining Ireland of the vast incomes spent here from that
country. But I could not, as a Peer of England, advise the King, on
principles of indirect, accidental English policy, to reject a tax on
absentees sent over here as the genuine desire of the Commons of Ireland