fpeak fufficiently for themfelves; they will live as long as letters and tafte shall remain in this country, and be more and more admired as envy and refentment shall fub. fide. 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.

to act a fecond part, after having acted a firit, 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 unasked 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 fhould degrade the poet, which made him always attempt wit and humour, often unfuccefsfully, and too often unfeafonably. I have been with him a week at a time at his houfe at Twickenham, where I neceffarily faw his mind in its undrefs, 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 irrirabile 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 inftance as any he quotes, of the contrarieties and inconfiftencies of human nature; for, notwith@anding the malignancy of his fatires, and fome blameable paffages of his life, he was charitable to his power, active in doing good offices, and pioufly attentive to an old bedridden 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

§ 119. Character of Lord BOLINGBROKE. It is impoffible to find lights and fhades ftrong 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 themfelves by a gradation of tints, but formed a fhining and fudden contrast.

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

He engaged young, and diftinguishe himself in bufnefs. His penetration was almoft intuition, and he adorned whatever fubject he either fpoke or wrote upon, by the moit fplendid eloquence; not a ftudied or laboured eloquence, but by fuch a flowing happiness of diction, which (from care, perhaps, at firt) was become fo habitual to him, that even his most familiar converfations, if taken down in writing, would have borne the prefs, without the lealt 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 attention of civility as obligations, which he returned with intereft; and refented with paffion 3 D 2

.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 quickest 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 interests 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 characterif tical 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 must 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 endless 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 profeffed himfelf a deift, believing in a general Providence, but doubting of, though by no means rejecting, (as is commoniy 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 tenderness, and faid, God, who placed me here, will do what he pleases "with me hereafter; and he knows beft "what to do. May he blefs you!"

Upon the whole of this extraordinary

character, what can we fay, 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 bufinefs. 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 furprising quickness of wit, and a happy turn to the moft amufing 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 bufinefs; could equally detect and practife 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 reftlefinefs of his temper, made him incapable of conducting it long together with prudence and steadiness.

He was a moft complete orator and debater in the houfe of commons; eloquent, entertaining, perfuafive, ftrong, and pathetic, as occafion required; for he had arguments, wit, and tears, at his command. His breaft was the feat of all those 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 paffion 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 house of commons, prevailed at laft

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 higheft ferment, and for a while fufpended his ruling one. Senfe of fhame made him hesitate 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 almost 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 shrunk 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:

mean to do impartial juftice to his character; 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 coarfe, ftrong wit, which he was too free of for a man in his station, as it is always inconfiftent with dignity. He was very able as a minifter, but without a certain elevation of mind neceflary for great good or great mifchief. 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 best 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 moft intricate matters, especially 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 adminiftration; and he employed it with a fuccefs which in a manner difgraced humanity. He was not, it is true, the inventor of that fhameful method of governing, which had been gaining ground infenfibly ever fince Charles II.; but, with uncommon skill, and unbounded profufion, he brought it to that perfection, which at this time difhonours and diftreffes this country, and which (if not checked, and God knows how it can be now checked) must ruin it.

Befides this powerful engine of govern ment, he had a most extraordinary talent of perfuading and working men up to his purpofe. A hearty kind of frankness, 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 worse 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 3D 3

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informed it; for the moft 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 cheerful, the most engaging countenance imaginable: when grave, which he was ofteneft, the most refpectable one. He had in the highest degree the air, manners, and addrefs, of a man of quality; politenefs with eafe, and dignity without pride.

Bred in camps and courts, it cannot be fuppofed that he was untainted with the fashionable vices of these warm climates; but (if I may be allowed the expreffion) 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 strong, 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 iaid, that he more than once carried an unwilling majority after him. Such is the authoriry of unfufpected virtue, that it will fometimes fhame vice into decency at leaft.

He was not only offered, but preffed to accept, the poft of fecretary of state; but he conftantly refufed 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 neceflary to do many hard things, and fome unjuft ones, which could only be authorited by the jefuitical cafuiftry of the direction of the intention: a doctrine which he faid he could not poffibly adopt. Whether he was the first that ever made that objection, I cannot affirm; but I fufpect that he will be the laft.

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 prerogative; 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 conflitution 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 hiftorian fays of Scipio, nil non laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit, aut fenfit; I fincerely think (I had almot faid I know), one might fay it with great truth of him, one fingle inftance excepted, which fhall be mentioned.

He joined to the nobleft and strictest principles of honour and generofity, the tenderet fentiments of benevolence and compaffion; and, as he was naturally warm, he could not even hear of an injuftice or a baseness, 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 goodneís, need I Scarborough name?

He had not the leaft pride of birth and rank, that common narrow notion of little minds, that wretched mistaken 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 proteft I never knew one), they could be only fuch as were weary of always hearing of Aristides the Juft.

He was too fubject to fudden gufts of paffion, but they never hurried him into any illiberal or indecent expreffion or action; fo invincibly habitual to him were good-nature and good-manners. But if 3 D 4

ever