to act a fecond part, after having acted a first, as he did during the reign of king George the First. He refolved, therefore, to make one convulfive ftruggle to revive his expiring power, or, if that did not fucceed, to retire from bufinefs. He tried the experiment upon the king, with whom he had a perfonal intereft. The experiment failed, as he might eafily, and ought to have foreseen. He retired to his feat in the country, and, in a few years, died of an apoplexy.

Having thus mentioned the flight defects, as well as the many valuable parts of his character, I must declare, that I owed the former to truth, and the latter to gratitude and friendship as well as to truth, fince, for fome years before he retired from bufinefs, we lived in the strictest intimacy that the difference of our age and fituations could admit, during which time he gave me many unafked and unequivocal proofs of his friendship. Chesterfield.

§ 118. The Character of Mr. POPE. Pope in converfation was below himself; he was feldom eafy and natural, and feemed afraid that the man should degrade the poet, which made him always attempt wit and humour, often unfuccefsfully, and too often unfeasonably. I have been with him a week at a time at his house at Twickenham, where I neceffarily faw his mind in its undress, when he was both an agreeable and inftructive companion.

His moral character has been warmly attacked, and but weakly defended; the natural confequence of his fhining turn to fatire, of which many felt, and all feared the fmart. It must be owned that he was the most irritable of all the genus irritabile vatum, offended with trifles, and never forgetting or forgiving them; but in this I really think that the poet was more in fault than the man. He was as great an instance as any he quotes, of the contrarieties and inconfiftencies of human nature; for, notwithstanding the malignancy of his fatires, and fome blameable paffages of his life, he was charitable to his power, active in doing good offices, and piously attentive to an old bed-ridden mother, who died but a little time before him. His poor, crazy, deformed body was a mere Pandora's box, containing all the phyfical ills that ever afflicted humanity. This, perhaps, whetted the edge of his fatire, and may in fome degree excufe it.

I will fay nothing of his works, they

fpeak fufficiently for themfelves; they will live as long as letters and taste shall remain in this country, and be more and more admired as envy and refentment shall fubfide. But I will venture this piece of claffical blafphemy, which is, that however he may be fuppofed to be obliged to Horace, Horace is more obliged to him. Chesterfield.

§ 119. Character of Lord BOLINGBROKE.

It is impoflible to find lights and fhades frong enough to paint the character of lord Bolingbroke, who was a moft mortifying inftance of the violence of human paffions, and of the most improved and exalted human reafon. His virtues and his vices, his reafon and his paffions, did not blend themselves by a gradation of tints, but formed a fhining and fudden contrast.

Here the darkeft, there the most fplendid colours, and both rendered more triking from their proximity. Impetuofity, excefs, and almost extravagancy, characterized not only his paffions, but even his fenfes. His youth was diftinguished by all the tumult and ftorm of pleafures, in which he licentiously triumphed, difdaining all decorum. His fine imagination was often heated and exhaufted, with his body, in celebrating and deifying the prostitute of the night; and his convivial joys were pushed to all the extravagancy of frantic bacchanals. These paffions were never interrupted but by a ftronger ambition. The former impaired both his conflitution aud his character; but the latter deftroyed both his fortune and his reputation.

He engaged young, and diftinguished himself in bufinefs. His penetration was almoft intuition, and he adorned whatever fubject he either fpoke or wrote upon, by the moft fplendid eloquence; not a studied or laboured eloquence, but by fuch a flowing happiness of diction, which (from care, perhaps, at firft) was become fo habitual to him, that even his moft familiar converfations, if taken down in writing, would have borne the prefs, without the leaft correction, either as to method or ftyle. He had noble and generous fentiments, rather than fixed reflected principles of good-nature and friendship; but they were more violent than lafting, and fuddenly and often varied to their oppofite extremes, with regard even to the fame perfons. He received the common attentions of civility as obligations, which he returned with intereft; and refented with paffion

the

the little inadvertencies of human nature, which he repaid with intereft too. Even a difference of opinion upon a philofophical fubject, would provoke and prove him no practical philofopher at least.

Notwithstanding the diffipation of his youth, and the tumultuous agitation of his middle age, he had an infinite fund of various and almoft univerfal knowledge, which, from the clearest and quickeft conception, and the happiest memory that ever man was bleffed with, he always carried about him. It was his pocket-money, and he never had occafion to draw upon a book for any fum. He excelled more particularly in hiftory, as his hiftorical works plainly prove. The relative, political, and commercial interefts of every country in Europe, particularly of his own, were better known to him than perhaps to any man in it; but how steadily he purfued the latter in his public conduct, his enemies of all parties and denominations tell with pleasure.

During his long exile in France, he applied himself to study with his characteriftical ardour; and there he formed, and chiefly executed, the plan of his great philofophical work. The common bounds of human knowledge were too narrow for his warm and afpiring imagination; he muft go extra flammantia mania mundi, and explore the unknown and unknowable regions of metaphyfics, which open an unbounded field for the excurfions of an ardent imagination; where endlefs conjectures fupply the defects of unattainable knowledge, and too often ufurp both its name and its influence.

He had a very handfome perfon, with a moft engaging addrefs in his air and manners; he had all the dignity and goodbreeding which a man of quality fhould or can have, and which fo few, in this country at leaft, really have.

He profefled himself a deift, believing in a general Providence, but doubting of, though by no means rejecting, (as is commonly fuppofed) the immortality of the

foul, and a future ftate.

He died of a cruel and fhocking diftemper, a cancer in his face, which he endured with firmnefs. A week before he died, I took my laft leave of him with grief; and he returned me his laft farewel with tendernefs, and faid, God, who placed me here, will do what he pleases "with me hereafter; and he knows beft "what to do. May he bless you!"

Upon the whole of this extraordinary

character, what can we say, but, alas! poor human nature ! Chesterfield.

§ 120. Character of Mr. PULTENEY.

Mr. Pulteney was formed by nature for focial and convivial pleasures. Refentment made him engage in business. He had thought himself flighted by Sir Robert Walpole, to whom he publicly avowed not only revenge, but utter deftruction. He had lively and fhining parts, a furprifing quickness of wit, and a happy turn to the most amusing and entertaining kinds of poetry, as epigrams, ballads, odes, &c.; in all which he had an uncommon facility. His compofitions in that way were fometimes fatirical, often licentious, but always full of wit.

He had a quick and clear conception of business; could equally detect and practise fophiftry. He could ftate and explain the moft intricate matters, even in figures, with the utmost perfpicuity. His parts were rather above bufinefs; and the warmth of his imagination, joined to the impetuofity and reilleffness of his temper, made him incapable of conducting it long together with prudence and steadiness.

He was a most complete orator and debater in the house of commons; eloquent, entertaining, perfuafive, strong, and pathetic, as occafion required; for he had arguments, wit, and tears, at his command, His breast was the feat of all thofe paffions which degrade our nature and disturb our reafon. There they raged in perpetual conflict; but avarice, the meanest of them all, generally triumphed, ruled abfolutely, and, in many inftances, which I forbear to mention, moft fcandalously.

His fudden paflion was outrageous, but fupported by great perfonal courage. Nothing exceeded his ambition, but his avarice; they often accompany, and are frequently and reciprocally the caufes and the effects of each other; but the latter is always a clog upon the former. He affected good-nature and compaffion; and perhaps his heart might feel the misfortunes and diftreffes of his fellow-creatures, but his hand was feldom or never ftretched out to relieve them. Though he was an able actor of truth and fincerity, he could occafionally lay them afide, to ferve the purposes of his ambition or avarice.

He was once in the greatest point of view that ever I faw any fubject in. When the oppofition, of which he was the leader in the houfe of commons, prevailed at last

against

against Sir Robert Walpole, he became the arbiter between the crown and the people; the former imploring his protection, the latter his fupport. In that critical moment his various jarring paffions were in the highest ferment, and for a while fufpended his ruling one. Senfe of fhame made him hefitate at turning courtier on a fudden, after having acted the patriot fo long, and with fo much applaufe; and his pride made him declare, that he would accept of no place; vainly imagining, that he could, by fuch a fimulated and temporary felf-denial, preferve his popularity with the public, and his power at court. He was mistaken in both. The king hated him almoft as much for what he might have done, as for what he had done; and a motley miniftry was formed, which by no means defired his company. The nation looked upon him as a deferter, and he fhrunk into infignificancy and an earldom.

He made feveral attempts afterwards to retrieve the opportunity he had loft, but in vain; his fituation would not allow it. He was fixed in the house of lords, that hofpital of incurables; and his retreat to popularity was cut off: for the confidence of the public, when once great, and once loft, is never to be regained. He lived afterwards in retirement, with the wretched comfort of Horace's mifer:

I much question whether an impartial character of Sir Robert Walpole will or can be tranfmitted to pofterity; for he governed this kingdom fo long, that the various paffions of mankind mingled, and in a manner incorporated themfelves, with every thing that was faid or written concerning him. Never was man more flat tered, nor more abufed; and his long power was probably the chief caufe of both. I was much acquainted with him, both in his public and his private life. mean to do impartial juftice to his charac

I

ter; and therefore my picture of him will, perhaps, be more like him than it will be like any of the other pictures drawn of him.

In private life he was good-natured, chearful, focial; inelegant in his manners, loofe in his morals. He had a coarse, ftrong wit, which he was too free of for a man in his ftation, as it is always inconfiftent with dignity. He was very able as a minifter, but without a certain elevation of mind neceffary for great good or great nifchief. Profufe and appetent, his ambition was fubfervient to his defire of making a great fortune. He had more of the Mazarin than of the Richelieu. He would do mean things for profit, and never thought of doing great ones for glory.

He was both the beft parliament-man, and the ableft manager of parliament, that, I believe, ever lived. An artful, rather than an eloquent fpeaker; he faw, as by intuition, the difpofition of the house, and preffed or receded accordingly. So clear in ftating the most intricate matters, efpecially in the finances, that, whilft he was fpeaking, the moft ignorant thought that they understood what they really did not. Money, not prerogative, was the chief engine of his administration; and he employed it with a fuccefs which in a manner difgraced humanity. He was not, it is true, the inventor of that fhateful method of governing, which had been gaining ground infenfibly ever fince Charles II.; but, with uncommon fkill, and unbounded profufion, he brought it to that perfection, which at this time dishonours and diftreffes this country, and which (if not checked, and God knows how it can be now checked) muft ruin it.

Befides this powerful engine of government, he had a most extraordinary talent of perfuading and working men up to his purpofe. A hearty kind of franknefs, which fometimes feemed impudence, made people think that he let them into his fecrets, whilft the impoliteness of his manners feemed to atteft his fincerity. When he found any body proof against pecuniary temptations; which, alas! was but feldom, he had recourfe to a ftill worfe art; for he laughed at and ridiculed all notions of public virtue, and the love of one's country, calling them, "The chimerical

fchool-boy flights of claffical learning," declaring himself, at the fame time, “No faint, no Spartan, no reformer." He would frequently afk young fellows, at their first appearance in the world, while X X

their

their honeft hearts were yet untainted, Well, are you to be an old Roman? a patriot you will foon come off of that, "and grow wifer." And thus he was more dangerous to the morals than to the liberties of his country, to which I am perfuaded he meant no ill in his heart.

He was the eafy and profufe dupe of women, and in fome inftances indecently fo. He was exceffively open to flattery, even of the groffeft kind; and from the coarfelt bunglers of that vile profeffion; which engaged him to pafs moft of his leifure and jovial hours with people whofe blafted characters reflected upon his own. He was loved by many, but refpected by none; his familiar and illiberal mirth and raillery leaving him no dignity. He was not vindictive, but, on the contrary, very placable to those who had injured him the moft. His good-humour, good-nature, and beneficence, in the feveral relations of father, hufband, mafter, and friend, gained him the warmest affections of all within that circle.

His name will not be recorded in history among the "best men," or the " beft mi"nifters;" but much lefs ought it to be ranked among the worst.

Chefterfield. $122. Character of Lord GRANVILLE. Lord Granville had great parts, and a most uncommon fhare of learning for a man of quality. He was one of the best fpeakers in the houfe of lords, both in the declamatory and the argumentative way. He had a wonderful quicknefs and precifion in feizing the ftrefs of a queftion, which no art, no fophiftry, could difguife in him. In bufinefs he was bold, enterprifing, and overbearing. He had been bred up in high monarchical, that is, tyrannical principles of government, which his ardent and imperious temper made him think were the only rational and practicable ones. He would have been a great first minifter in France, little inferior, perhaps, to Richlieu; in this government, which is yet free, he would have been a dangerous one, little lefs fo, perhaps, than Lord Strafford. He was neither ill-natured, nor vindictive, and had a great contempt for money; his ideas were all above it. In focial life he was an agreeable, good-humoured, and inftructive companion; a great but entertaining talker.

He degraded himself by the vice of

drinking; which, together with a great ftock of Greek and Latin, he brought away with him from Oxford, and retained and practifed ever afterwards. By his own industry, he had made himself master of all the modern languages, and had acquired a great knowledge of the law. His political knowledge of the intereft of princes and of commerce was extenfive, and his notions were just and great. His character may be fummed up, in nice precifion, quick decifion, and unbounded prefumption. Ibid.

123. Character of Mr. PELHAM. Mr. Pelham had good fenfe, without either fhining parts or any degree of literature. He had by no means an elevated or enterprifing genius, but had a more manly and steady refolution than his brother the Duke of Newcastle. He had a gentleman-like frankness in his behaviour, and as great point of honour as a minister can have, especially a minister at the head of the treafury, where numberless sturdy and infatiable beggars of condition apply, who cannot all be gratified, nor all with fafety be refused.

He was a very inelegant fpeaker in parliament, but spoke with a certain candour and openness that made him be well heard, and generally believed.

He wifhed well to the public, and managed the finances with great care and perfonal purity. He was par negotiis neque jupra: had many domestic virtues and no vices. If his place, and the power that accompanies it, made him fome public enemies, his behaviour in both fecured him from perfonal and rancorous ones. Thofe who wished him worft, only wished themfelves in his place.

Upon the whole, he was an honourable man, and a well-wishing minifter.

informed it; for the most fecret movements of his whole foul were, without difguife, communicated to me only. However, I will rather lower than heighten the colouring; I will mark the fhades, and draw a

credible rather than an exact likeness.

He had a very good perfon, rather above the middle fize; a handfome face, and, when he was chearful, the moft engaging countenance imaginable: when grave, which he was ofteneft, the moft refpectable one. He had in the highest degree the air, manners, and addrefs, of a man of quality; politeness with ease, and dignity without pride.

Bred in camps and courts, it cannot be fuppofed that he was untainted with the fashionable vices of thefe warm climates; but (if I may be allowed the expreflion) he dignified them, instead of their degrading him into any mean or indecent action. He had a good degree of claffical, and a great one of modern, knowledge; with a juft, and, at the fame time, a delicate tafte. In his common expences he was liberal within bounds; but in his charities and bounties he had none. I have known them put him to fome prefent inconveniencies.

He was a ftrong, but not an eloquent or florid fpeaker in parliament. He fpoke fo unaffectedly the honeft dictates of his heart, that truth and virtue, which never want, and feldom wear, ornaments, feemed only to borrow his voice. This gave fuch an aftonishing weight to all he faid, that he more than once carried an unwilling majority after him. Such is the autho rity of unfufpected virtue, that it will fometimes fhame vice into decency at leaft.

He was not only offered, but preffed to accept, the post of secretary of itate; but he conftantly refused it. I once tried to perfuade him to accept it; but he told me, that both the natural warmth and melancholy of his temper made him unfit for it; and that moreover he knew very well that, in thofe minifterial employments, the courfe of bufinefs made it neceffary to do many hard things, and fome unjust ones, which could only be authorized by the jefuitical cafuiftry of the direction of the intention: a doctrine which he faid he could not poflibly adopt. Whether he was the first that ever made that objection, I cannot affirm; but I fufpect that he will

be the last.

He was a true conftitutional, and yet

practicable patriot; a fincere lover, and a zealous afferter of the natural, the civil, and the religious rights of his country: but he would not quarrel with the crown, for fome flight ftretches of the preroga tive; nor with the people, for fome unwary ebullitions of liberty; nor with any one for a difference of opinion in fpeculative points. He confidered the conftitu. tion in the aggregate, and only watched that no one part of it fhould preponderate too much.

His moral character was fo pure, that if one may fay of that imperfect creature man, what a celebrated hillorian fays of Scipio, nil non laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit, aut fenfit; I fincerely think (I had almoft said I know), one might fay it with great truth of him, one fingle inftance excepted, which fhall be mentioned.

He joined to the noblet and strictest principles of honour and generofity, the tendereft fentiments of benevolence and compaffion; and, as he was naturally warm, he could not even hear of an injustice or a bafenefs, without a fudden indignation; nor of the misfortunes or miferies of a fellow-creature, without melting into foftnefs, and endeavouring to relieve them. This part of his character was fo univerfally known, that our best and moft fatirical English poet fays,

When I confefs there is who feels for fame, And melts to goodnefs, need I Scarborough name?

He had not the leaft pride of birth and rank, that common narrow notion of little minds, that wretched miftaken fuccedaneum of merit; but he was jealous to anxiety of his character, as all men are who deferve a good one. And fuch was his diffidence upon that fubject, that he never could be perfuaded that mankind really thought of him as they did; for furely never man had a higher reputation, and never man enjoyed a more univerfal efteem. Even knaves refpected him ; and fools thought they loved him. If he had any enemies (for I protest I never knew one), they could only be fuch as were weary of always hearing of Ariftides. the Juft.

He was too fubject to fudden gufts of paffion, but they never hurried him into any illiberal or indecent expreffion or ac-. tion; fo invincibly habitual to him were good-nature and good-manners. But, if

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ever