of the minister being more than ever confirmed under his successor, the virulence and violence of the philosopher, after raging for eight years more, made the Tories so unpopular, that Pulteney forced him abroad, which, be sure, he converted once more into his own love of retirement, and contempt of the world. Meantime, and while the storm of his mind was raging highest in the "Craftsman" (lasting, as we have seen, till his second exile to France in 1735), he thus writes concerning the illness of his wife: "If she should be taken from me, I should most certainly yield to that strong desire which I have long had of secluding myself totally from the company and affairs of mankind; of leaving the management of even my private affairs to others; and of securing, by these means, for the rest of my life, an uninterrupted tenor of philosophical quiet." In another letter to Swift, during this period of his greatest though unsuccessful struggles, he says: "What hurt does age do us in subduing what we toil to subdue all our lives? It is now six in the morning. I recall the times (and am glad it is over) when, about this hour, I used to be going to bed, surfeited with pleasure, or jaded with business; my head often full of schemes, and my heart as often full of anxiety. Is it a misfortune, think you, that I rise at this hour, refreshed, serene, and calm? that the past, and even the present, affairs of life stand like objects at a distance from me?"† How serene and calm he was when he rose, pro *To Swift, Aug. 2. 1731. Swift's Works, xii. 433. bably to write the "Craftsman," may be imagined; and I have made these extracts to guard my younger readers especially, not to be led away by the glitter of this man of genius, to suppose that he was not among the grossest of the self-deceived. The subject is not over. He says (still in the same period): "My part is over; and he who remains on the stage when his part is over, deserves to be hissed off." He adds that he was sure he could live out of the world with satisfaction, when he could not live in it with dignity.* These are all good resolutions. As we may suppose, No! Were they kept? opera Even in France he continued to direct the tions against Sir Robert, through his great political second Sir William Wyndham, particularly in the famous secession by the latter in 1739, eight years after he had foresworn the company and affairs of mankind. Two years before this, so little had he done with party, that he not only cultivated the intimacy of the Prince of Wales, with a view to politics, but was the chief instrument in instigating him against his father, with a view to embarrass the minister. As the spleen continued (indeed, it seems never to have abandoned him from the death of Queen Anne), we must not be surprised to find, in the first year of this second exile (1736), such passages as these. "You will be sorry, I am sure, if I wanted courage to say to myself, Thy VOL. II. *To Sir W. Wyndham, 1735, apud Coxe. CC part in public life is over:" and with respect to his restoration to Parliament, "The opportunity is over, and in the present state of things the end is no longer desirable." Then, as to a return to power, he adds: "If any thing of that kind is said to you, or any other friend, I desire the answer may be, that I neither expect nor desire power; and, as to my being restored, I am perfectly indifferent. I think myself at liberty to live where I amuse myself the most, and enjoy the greatest ease." He then observes: "If you hinder the constitution from being destroyed, I shall end my days in the obscurity of retreat with far greater satisfaction than the splendour of the world ever gave me, as busy as I have appeared in it, and as fond as I have been of it. I grow every hour more indifferent to life, and the common concerns of life."* This was in January, 1736. In February, writing to the same person, he calls the Duke of Newcastle the greatest jackanapes, and Walpole the greatest bear, upon earth; and, after other exhibitions of the malady that cankered his heart, assures his friend that he enjoys his soul in great serenity, and that no one circumstance in which his enemies, he supposes, triumph, takes away in the least from the quiet of his mind, or the happiness of his life. He adds: "I assure you, upon my honour, it is strictly true." † What credit is due to his honour, on this point, may at least be doubtful, as six years and eight years after this (in 1742 and 1744) the rancour * To Wyndham, apud Coxe, ii. 338. † Ibid. 346. against Sir Robert is not at all abated; accusing him, as he does in letters to Lord Hardwicke, though Walpole's colleague, of meanness and treachery in having obstructed his favour with the king (George I.), an accusation proved to be without foundation.* Yet he calls Walpole's "the weakest and wickedest administration that ever was; the most hateful and most contemptible that our nation ever saw." All this we might forgive; the man might believe it, though blinded with passion, and mortified by disappointment. What we do not forgive is his hypocritical profession to the contrary. In one of his latest letters to Wyndham he says: "and though I have as little. of the spirit of party about me as any man living, which you know to be true." At this we think Sir William, much as he was attached to him, must, to use a vulgar expression, "have laughed in his sleeve." Thus have we pursued the course of what we have justly called a meteor; now flaming through the troubled air, which seemed his element; now trailing his wounded body, like the snake, unwillingly along the ground. However, though he was the most eccentric and violent of his class, and among the most disappointed sons of ambition, to say he was the most unhappy would not be true. His spirit kept him up; and, with a pursuit perpetually exciting hopes or animating passion, he was always active, never dull; and he who is so excited can never be a prey to *To Wyndham, apud Coxe, ii. 342, 343. † Ibid. 506. 549. melancholy. Besides this, his love of letters was sincere, and he amply indulged it. In this his vacare literis was far superior to the maxim, more ostentatious than effectual, of his friend Swift, Vive la bagatelle! He had also this advantage over his brother in disappointment, that he was always liberal, and had the fascinations of a man of quality; and, as such, shone in high society; while Swift growled among hangers-on and dependants, a severe petty tyrant, and at length a curmudgeon. Still they both exemplified, by the mortifications they endured and exhibited, the necessity we have set forth, that a man of ambition, to be useful either to himself or the world, should be also a man of wisdom and of virtue. |