THE LIFE OF HENRY LORD VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.

THERE are ſome charac⯑ters that ſeem formed by nature to take delight in ſtruggling with oppoſition, and whoſe moſt agreeable hours are paſſed in ſtorms of their own creating. The ſubject of the preſent ſketch was [2] perhaps of all others the moſt indefa⯑tigable in raiſing himſelf enemies, to ſhew his power in ſubduing them; and was not leſs employed in im⯑proving his ſuperior talents, than in finding objects on which to exerciſe their activity. His life was ſpent in a continued conflict of politics, and, as if that was too ſhort for the com⯑bat, he has left his memory as a ſub⯑ject of laſting contention.

It is indeed no eaſy matter to pre⯑ſerve an acknowledged impartiality, in talking of a man ſo differently re⯑garded on account of his political, as well as his religious principles. Thoſe whom his politics may pleaſe, will be ſure to condemn him for his religion; and on the contrary, thoſe moſt ſtrongly attached to his theological opinions, are the moſt likely to decry [3] his politics. On whatever ſide he is regarded, he is ſure to have oppoſers, and this was perhaps what he moſt deſired, having from nature a mind better pleaſed with the ſtruggle than the victory.

HENRY ST. JOHN, Lord Viſcount BOLINGBROKE, was born in the year 1672, at Batterſea in Surry, at a ſeat that had been in the poſſeſſion of his anceſtors for ages before. His family was of the firſt rank, equally con⯑ſpicuous for its antiquity, dignity, and large poſſeſſions. It is found to trace its original as high as ADAM DE PORT, Baron of Baſing in Hampſhire, before the conqueſt; and in a ſucceſſion of ages to have produced warriors, pa⯑triots, and ſtateſmen, ſome of whom were conſpicuous for their loyalty, and others for their defending the [4] rights of the people. His grandfather Sir WALTER ST. JOHN, of Batterſea, marrying one of the daughters of lord chief juſtice ST. JOHN, who as all know was ſtrongly attached to the re⯑publican party, HENRY, the ſubject of the preſent memoir, was brought up in his family, and conſequently imbibed the firſt principles of his edu⯑cation amongſt the diſſenters. At that time DANIEL BURGESS, a fanatic of a very peculiar kind, being at once poſſeſſed of zeal and humour, and as well known for the archneſs of his conceits as the furious obſtinacy of his principles, was confeſſor in the preſbyterian way to his grandmother, and was appointed to direct our au⯑thor's firſt ſtudies. Nothing is ſo apt to diſguſt a feeling mind as miſtaken zeal; and perhaps the abſurdity of the firſt lectures he received, might [5] have given him that contempt for all religions, which he might have juſtly conceived againſt one. Indeed no taſk can be more mortifying than that he was condemned to undergo: ‘"I was obliged, ſays he in one place, while yet a boy, to read over the commentaries of Dr. MANTON, whoſe pride it was to have made an hundred and nineteen ſermons, on the hundred and nineteenth pſalm."’ Dr. MANTON and his ſer⯑mons were not likely to prevail much on one, who was, perhaps, the moſt ſharp-ſighted in the world at diſco⯑vering the abſurdities of others, how⯑ever he might have been guilty of eſtabliſhing many of his own.

But theſe dreary inſtitutions were of no very long continuance; as ſoon as it was fit to take him out of the [6] hands of the women, he was ſent to Eaton ſchool, and removed thence to Chriſt-Church college in Oxford. His genius and underſtanding were ſeen and admired in both theſe ſemi⯑naries, but his love of pleaſure had ſo much the aſcendency, that he ſeemed contented rather with the con⯑ſciouſneſs of his own great powers, than their exertion. However his friends, and thoſe who knew him moſt intimately, were thoroughly ſenſible of the extent of his mind; and when he left the univerſity, he was conſi⯑dered as one who had the faireſt op⯑portunity of making a ſhining figure in active life.

Nature ſeemed not leſs kind to him in her external embelliſhments, than in adorning his mind. With the graces of an handſome perſon, and a [7] face in which dignity was happily blended with ſweetneſs, he had a man⯑ner of addreſs that was very engag⯑ing. His vivacity was always awake, his apprehenſion was quick, his wit refined, and his memory amazing: his ſubtilty in thinking and reaſoning were profound, and all theſe talents were adorned with an elocution that was irreſiſtible.

To the aſſemblage of ſo many gifts from nature, it was expected that art would ſoon give her finiſhing hand; and that a youth begun in excellence, would ſoon arrive at perfection: but ſuch is the perverſeneſs of human na⯑ture, that an age which ſhould have been employed in the acquiſition of knowledge, was diſſipated in plea⯑ſure, and inſtead of aiming to excel in praiſe-worthy purſuits, BOLING⯑BROKE [8] ſeemed more ambitious of be⯑ing thought the greateſt rake about town. This period might have been compared to that of fermentation in liquors, which grow muddy before they brighten; but it muſt alſo be confeſt, that thoſe liquors which ne⯑ver ferment are ſeldom clear. In this ſtate of diſorder he was not without his lucid intervals; and even while he was noted for keeping Miſs GUM⯑LEY, the moſt expenſive proſtitute in the kingdom, and bearing the greateſt quantity of wine without intoxication, he even then deſpiſed his paltry am⯑bition. ‘"The love of ſtudy, ſays he, and deſire of knowledge, were what I felt all my life; and though my genius, unlike the daemon of SOCRATES, whiſpered ſo ſoftly, that very often I heard him not in the hurry of theſe paſſions with which [9] I was tranſported, yet ſome calmer hours there were, and in them I hearkened to him."’ Theſe ſecret admonitions were indeed very few, ſince his exceſſes are remembered to this very day. I have ſpoke to an old man, who aſſured me that he ſaw him and another of his companions run naked through the Park, in a fit of in⯑toxication; but then it was a time when public decency might be tranſgreſſed with leſs danger than at preſent.

During this period, as all his at⯑tachments were to pleaſure, ſo his ſtudies only ſeemed to lean that way. His firſt attempts were in poetry, in which he diſcovers more wit than taſte, more labour than harmony in his verſification. We have a copy of his verſes prefixed to DRYDEN's Vir⯑gil, complimenting the poet, and [10] praiſing his tranſlation. We have another not ſo well known, prefixed to a French work, publiſhed in Hol⯑land, by the Chevalier de ST. HYA⯑CINTH, intituled, le Chef de Oeuvre d'un Inconnu. This performance is an humorous piece of criticiſm upon a miſerable old ballad, and BOLING⯑BROKE's compliment, though written in Engliſh, is printed in Greek cha⯑racters, ſo that at the firſt glance it may deceive the eye, and be miſtaken for real Greek. There are two or three things more of his compoſition, which have appeared ſince his death, but which neither do honour to his parts or memory.

In this mad career of pleaſure he continued for ſome time; but at length in 1700, when he arrived at the twenty-eighth year of his age, he [11] began to take a diſlike to his method of living, and to find that ſenſual plea⯑ſure alone was not ſufficient to make the happineſs of a reaſonable creature. He therefore made his firſt effort to break from his ſtate of infatuation, by marrying the daughter and co⯑heireſs of Sir HENRY WINCHESCOMB, a deſcendant from the famous JACK of NEWBURY, who though but a clo⯑thier in the reign of HENRY VIII. was able to entertain the king and all his retinue in the moſt ſplendid manner. This lady was poſſeſſed of a fortune exceeding forty thouſand pounds, and was not deficient in men⯑tal accompliſhments; but whether he was not yet fully ſatiated with his former pleaſures, or whether her tem⯑per was not conformable to his own, it is certain they were far from living happily together. After cohabiting [12] for ſome time together, they parted by mutual conſent, both equally diſ⯑pleaſed; he complaining of the ob⯑ſtinacy of her temper, ſhe of the ſhameleſſneſs of his infidelity. A great part of her fortune ſome time after upon his attainder was given her back, but as her family eſtates were ſettled upon him, he enjoyed them after her death, upon the rever⯑ſal of his attainder.

Having taken a reſolution to quit the allurements of pleaſure for the ſtronger attractions of ambition, ſoon after his marriage he procured a ſeat in the houſe of commons, being elect⯑ed for the borough of Wotton-Baſſet, in Wiltſhire, his father having ſerved ſeveral times ſor the ſame place. Be⯑ſides his natural endowments and his large fortune, he had other very con⯑ſiderable [13] advantages that gave him weight in the ſenate, and ſeconded his views of preferment. His grandfather Sir WALTER ST. JOHN was ſtill alive, and that gentleman's intereſt was ſo great in his own county of Wilts, that he repreſented it in two parliaments in a former reign. His father alſo was then the repreſentative for the ſame, and the intereſt of his wife's family in the houſe was very extenſive. Thus BOLINGBROKE took his ſeat with many accidental helps, but his chief and great reſource lay in his own ex⯑tenſive abilities.

At that time the whig and the tory parties were ſtrongly oppoſed in the houſe, and pretty nearly balanced. In the latter years of king WILLIAM, the tories, who from every motive were oppoſed to the court, had been [14] gaining popularity, and now began to make a public ſtand againſt their competitors. ROBERT HARLEY, af⯑terwards earl of Oxford, a ſtaunch and confirmed tory, was in the year 1700, choſen ſpeaker of the houſe of commons, and was continued in the ſame upon the acceſſion of queen ANNE, the year enſuing. BOLING⯑BROKE had all along been bred up, as was before obſerved, among the diſſenters, his friends leaned to that perſuaſion, and all his connexions were in the whig intereſt. However, either from principle, or from perceiv⯑ing the tory party to be then gaining ground, while the whigs were declin⯑ing, he ſoon changed his connexions, and joined himſelf to HARLEY, for whom he then had the greateſt eſteem: nor did he bring him his vote alone, but his opinion; which even before [15] the end of his firſt ſeſſion he rendered very conſiderable, the houſe perceiv⯑ing even in ſo young a ſpeaker the greateſt eloquence, united with the profoundeſt diſcernment. The year following he was again choſen anew for the ſame borough, and perſevered in his former attachments, by which he gained ſuch an authority and influence in the houſe, that it was thought pro⯑per to reward his merit; and on the 10th of April 1704, he was appoint⯑ed ſecretary at war, and of the ma⯑rines, his friend HARLEY having a little before been made ſecretary of ſtate.

The tory party being thus eſta⯑bliſhed in power, it may eaſily be ſuppoſed that every method would be uſed to depreſs the whig intereſt, and to prevent it from riſing; yet ſo [16] much juſtice was done even to merit in an enemy, that the duke of MARL⯑BOROUGH, who might be conſidered as at the head of the oppoſite party, was ſupplied with all the neceſſaries for carrying on the war in Flanders with vigour; and it is remarkable, that the greateſt events of his cam⯑paigns, ſuch as the battles of Blen⯑heim and Ramillies, and ſeveral glo⯑rious attempts made by the duke, to ſhorten the war by ſome deciſive ac⯑tion, fell out while BOLINGBROKE was ſecretary at war. In fact, he was a ſincere admirer of that great general, and avowed it upon all occaſions to the laſt moment of his life: he knew his faults, he admired his virtues, and had the boaſt of being inſtru⯑mental in giving luſtre to thoſe tri⯑umphs, by which his own power was in a manner overthrown.

[17] As the affairs of the nation were then in as fluctuating a ſtate as at pre⯑ſent, HARLEY, after maintaining the lead for above three years, was in his turn obliged to ſubmit to the whigs, who once more became the prevail⯑ing party, and he was compelled to reſign the ſeals. The friendſhip be⯑tween him and BOLINGBROKE, ſeems at this time to have been ſincere and diſintereſted; for the latter choſe to follow his fortune, and the next day reſigned his employments in the ad⯑miniſtration, following his friend's example, and ſetting an example at once of integrity and moderation. As an inſtance of this, when his co⯑adjutors the tories were for carrying a violent meaſure in the houſe of commons, in order to bring the prin⯑ceſs SOPHIA into England, BOLING⯑BROKE ſo artfully oppoſed it, that it [18] dropt without a debate. For this his moderation was praiſed, but perhaps at the expence of his ſagacity.

For ſome time the whigs ſeemed to have gained a complete triumph, and upon the election of a new par⯑liament, in the year 1708, BOLING⯑BROKE was not returned. The inter⯑val which followed of above two years, he employed in the ſevereſt ſtudy; and this recluſe period he ever after uſed to conſider, as the moſt active and ſerviceable of his whole life. But his retirement was ſoon interrupted, by the prevailing of his party once more; for the whig parliament being diſſolved in the year 1710, he was again choſen, and HARLEY being made chancellor, and under treaſurer of the exchequer, the important poſt of ſe⯑cretary of ſtate was given to our au⯑thor, [19] in which he diſcovered a degree of genius and aſſiduity, that perhaps have never been known to be united in one perſon to the ſame degree.

The Engliſh annals ſcarce produce a more trying juncture, or that re⯑quired ſuch various abilities to regu⯑late. He was then placed in a ſphere, where he was obliged to conduct the machine of ſtate, ſtruggling with a thouſand various calamities: a deſpe⯑rate and enraged party, whoſe charac⯑teriſtic it has ever been to bear none in power but themſelves; a war con⯑ducted by an able general, his pro⯑feſſed opponent, and whoſe victories only tended to render him every day more formidable; a foreign enemy, poſſeſſed of endleſs reſources, and ſeeming to gather ſtrength from every defeat; an inſidious alliance, that [20] wanted only to gain the advantages of victory, without contributing to the expences of the combat; a weak declining miſtreſs, that was led by every report, and ſeemed ready to liſten to whatever was ſaid againſt him; ſtill more, a gloomy, indolent, and ſuſpicious collegue, that envied his power, and hated him for his abi⯑lities: theſe were a part of the diffi⯑culties, that BOLINGBROKE had to ſtruggle with in office, and under which he was to conduct the treaty of the peace of Utrecht, which was con⯑ſidered as one of the moſt complicated negotiations that hiſtory can afford. But nothing ſeemed too great for his abilities and induſtry, he ſet himſelf to the undertaking with ſpirit: he began to pave the way to the intended treaty, by making the people diſcon⯑tented at the continuance of the war; [21] for this purpoſe he employed himſelf in drawing up accurate computations of the numbers of our own men, and that of foreigners employed in its de⯑ſtructive progreſs. He even wrote in the Examiners, and other periodical papers of the times, ſhewing how much of the burden reſted upon Eng⯑land, and how little was ſuſtained by thoſe who falſely boaſted their alli⯑ance. By theſe means, and after much debate in the houſe of com⯑mons, the queen received a petition from parliament, ſhewing the hard⯑ſhips the allies had put upon Eng⯑land in carrying on this war, and conſequently how neceſſary it was to apply relief to ſo ill-judged a con⯑nexion. It may be eaſily ſuppoſed that the Dutch, againſt whom this petition was chiefly levelled, did all that was in their power to oppoſe it; [22] many of the foreign courts alſo, with whom we had any tranſactions, were continually at work to defeat the mi⯑niſter's intentions. Memorial was de⯑livered after memorial; the people of England, the parliament, and all Eu⯑rope were made acquainted with the injuſtice and the dangers of ſuch a proceeding: however BOLINGBROKE went on with ſteadineſs and reſolu⯑tion, and although the attacks of his enemies at home might have been deemed ſufficient to employ his at⯑tention, yet he was obliged at the ſame time that he furniſhed materials to the preſs in London, to furniſh in⯑ſtructions to all our miniſters and am⯑baſſadors abroad, who would do no⯑thing but in purſuance of his direc⯑tions. As an orator, in the ſenate he exerted all his eloquence, he ſtated all the great points that were brought be⯑fore [23] the houſe, he anſwered the ob⯑jections that were made by the leaders of the oppoſition; and all this with ſuch ſucceſs, that even his enemies, while they oppoſed his power, ac⯑knowledged his abilities. Indeed, ſuch were the difficulties he had to en⯑counter, that we find him acknow⯑ledging himſelf ſome years after, that he never looked back on this great event paſſed as it was, without a ſe⯑cret emotion of mind, when he com⯑pared the vaſtneſs of the undertaking, and the importance of the ſucceſs, with the means employed to bring it about, and with thoſe which were employed to fruſtrate his intentions.

While he was thus induſtriouſly employed, he was not without the re⯑wards that deſerved to follow ſuch abilities, joined to ſo much aſſiduity. [24] In July 1712, he was created Baron ST. JOHN, of Lidyard Tregoze, in Wiltſhire, and Viſcount BOLINGBROKE, by the laſt of which titles he is now generally known, and is likely to be talked of by poſterity: he was alſo the ſame year appointed lord lieu⯑tenant of the county of Eſſex. By the titles of TREGOZE and BOLING⯑BROKE, he united the honours of the elder and younger branch of his fa⯑mily; and thus tranſmitted into one channel, the oppoſing intereſts of two races, that had been diſtinguiſhed one for their loyalty to king CHARLES I. the other for their attachment to the parliament that oppoſed him. It was afterwards his boaſt, that he ſteered clear of the extremes for which his anceſtors had been diſtinguiſhed, having kept the ſpirit of freedom of the one, and acknowledged the [25] ſubordination that diſtinguiſhed the other.

BOLINGBROKE being thus raiſed very near the ſummit of power, began to perceive more nearly the defects of him who was placed there. He now began to find that lord OXFORD, whoſe party he had followed, and whoſe per⯑ſon he had eſteemed, was by no means ſo able or ſo induſtrious as he ſuppoſed him to be. He now began from his heart to renounce the friendſhip which he once had for his coadjutor; he be⯑gan to imagine him treacherous, mean, indolent, and invidious; he even began to aſcribe his own pro⯑motion to OXFORD'S hatred, and to ſuppoſe that he was ſent up to the houſe of lords, only to render him contemptible. Theſe ſuſpicions were partly true, and partly ſuggeſted by [26] BOLINGBROKE's own ambition; being ſenſible of his own ſuperior impor⯑tance and capacity, he could not bear to ſee another take the lead in public affairs, when he knew they owed their chief ſucceſs to his own management. Whatever might have been his mo⯑tives, whether of contempt, hatred, or ambition, it is certain an irrecon⯑cileable breach began between theſe two leaders of their party; their mu⯑tual hatred was ſo great, that even their own common intereſt, the vigour of their negotiations, and the ſafety of their friends, were entirely ſacrificed to it. It was in vain that SWIFT, who was admitted into their counſels, urged the unſeaſonable impropriety of their diſputes; that while they were thus at variance within the walls, the ene⯑my were making irreparable breaches without. BOLINGBROKE's antipathy [27] was ſo great, that even ſucceſs would have been hateful to him, if lord OX⯑FORD were to be a partner. He ab⯑horred him to that degree, that he could not bear to be joined with him in any caſe; and even ſome time af⯑ter, when the lives of both were aimed at, he could not think of concerting meaſures with him for their mutual ſafety, preferring even death itſelf to the appearance of a temporary friend⯑ſhip.

Nothing could have been more weak and injudicious, than their mu⯑tual animoſities at this juncture; and it may be aſſerted with truth, that men who were unable to ſuppreſs or conceal their reſentments upon ſuch a trying occaſion, were unfit to take the lead in any meaſures, be their induſ⯑try or their abilities ever ſo great. In [28] fact, their diſſentions were ſoon found to involve not only them, but their party in utter ruin; their hopes had for ſome time been declining, the whigs were daily gaining ground, and the queen's death ſoon after totally deſtroyed all their ſchemes with their power.

Upon the acceſſion of GEORGE I. to the throne, dangers began to threaten the late miniſtry on every ſide; whether they had really inten⯑tions of bringing in the Pretender, or whether the whigs made it a pre⯑text for deſtroying them, is uncer⯑tain; but the king very ſoon began to ſhew, that they were to expect nei⯑ther ſavour nor mercy at his hands. Upon his landing at Greenwich, when the court came to wait upon him, and lord OXFORD among the number, he [29] ſtudiouſly avoided taking any notice of him, and teſtified his reſentment by the careſſes he beſtowed upon the members of the oppoſite faction. A regency had been ſome time before appointed to govern the kingdom, and ADDISON was made ſecretary. BO⯑LINGBROKE ſtill maintained his place of ſtate ſecretary, but ſubject to the contempt of the great, and the in⯑ſults of the mean. The firſt ſtep taken by them to mortify him, was to order all letters and packets di⯑rected to the ſecretary of ſtate, to be ſent to Mr. ADDISON; ſo that BO⯑LINGBROKE was in fact removed from his office, that is, the execution of it, in two days after the queen's death. But this was not the worſt, for his mortifications were continual⯑ly heightened, by the daily humilia⯑tion of waiting at the door of the [30] apartment where the regency ſat, with a bag in his hand, and being all the time, as it were, on purpoſe, expoſed to the inſolence of thoſe who were tempted by their natural malevo⯑lence, or who expected to make their court to thoſe in power by abuſing him.

Upon this ſudden turn of fortune, when the ſeals were taken from him, he went into the country, and having received a meſſage from court, to be preſent when the ſeal was taken from the door of the ſecretary's office, he excuſed himſelf, alledging, that ſo trifling a ceremony might as well be performed by one of the under ſe⯑cretaries, but at the ſame time re⯑queſted the honour of kiſſing the king's hand, to whom he teſtified the utmoſt ſubmiſſion. This requeſt [31] however was rejected with diſdain, the king had been taught to regard him as an enemy, and threw himſelf entirely on the whigs for ſafety and protection.

The new parliament, moſtly com⯑poſed of whigs, met the 17th of March; and in the king's ſpeech from the throne, many inflaming hints were given, and many methods of violence were chalked out to the two houſes. ‘"The firſt ſteps, (ſays lord BOLINGBROKE, ſpeaking on this oc⯑caſion) in both were perfectly an⯑ſwerable; and to the ſhame of the peerage be it ſpoken, I ſaw at that time ſeveral lords concur, to con⯑demn in one general vote, all that they had approved in a former par⯑liament, by many particular reſo⯑lutions. Among ſeveral bloody [32] reſolutions propoſed and agitated at this time, the reſolution of im⯑peaching me of high treaſon was taken; and I took that of leaving England, not in a panic terror, improved by the artifices of the duke of MARLBOROUGH, whom I knew even at that time too well to act by his advice or informa⯑tion, in any caſe, but on ſuch grounds as the proceedings which ſoon followed ſufficiently juſtified, and ſuch as I have never repented building upon. Thoſe who blamed it in the firſt heat, were ſoon af⯑ter obliged to change their lan⯑guage: For what other reſolution could I take? The method of pro⯑ſecution deſigned againſt me, would have put me out of a condition immediately to act for myſelf, or to ſerve thoſe who were leſs ex⯑poſed [33] than me, but who were however in danger. On the other hand, how few were there on whoſe aſſiſtance I could depend, or to whom I would even in theſe circumſtances be obliged. The ferment in the nation was wrought up to a conſiderable height; but there was at that time no reaſon to expect that it could influence the proceedings in parliament, in favour of thoſe who ſhould be ac⯑cuſed: left to its own movement, it was much more proper to quicken than ſlacken the proſecutions; and who was there to guide its motions? The tories, who had been true to one another to the laſt, were a hand⯑ful, and no great vigour could be expected from them: the whim⯑ſicals, diſappointed of the figure which they hoped to make, began [34] indeed to join their old friends. One of the principal among them, namely, the earl of ANGLESEA, was ſo very good as to confeſs to me, that if the court had called the ſervants of the late queen to ac⯑count, and ſtopped there, he muſt have conſidered himſelf as a judge, and acted according to his con⯑ſcience, on what ſhould have ap⯑peared to him: but that war had been declared to the whole tory party, and that now the ſtate of things were altered. This diſcourſe needed no commentary, and proved to me, that I had never erred in the judgment I made of this ſet of men. Could I then reſolve to be obliged to them, or to ſuffer with OXFORD? As much as I ſtill was heated by the diſputes, in which I had been all my life engaged againſt [35] the whigs, I would ſooner have choſen to owe my ſecurity to their indulgence, than to the aſſiſtance of the whimſicals: but I thought baniſhment, with all her train of evils, preferable to either."’

Such was the miſerable ſituation to which he was reduced upon this oc⯑caſion; of all the number of his for⯑mer flatterers and dependants, ſcarce one was found remaining. Every hour brought freſh reports of his a⯑larming ſituation, and the dangers which threatened him and his party on all ſides. PRIOR, who had been em⯑ployed in negotiating the treaty of Utrecht, was come over to Dover, and had promiſed to reveal all he knew. The duke of MARLBOROUGH planted his creatures round his lord⯑ſhip, who artfully endeavoured to in⯑creaſe [36] the danger; and an impeach⯑ment was actually preparing, in which he was accuſed of high treaſon. It argued therefore no great degree of timidity in his lordſhip, to take the firſt opportunity to withdraw from danger, and to ſuffer the firſt boilings of popular animoſity, to quench the flame that had been raiſed againſt him: accordingly, having made a gallant ſhew of deſpiſing the machi⯑nations againſt him, having appeared in a very unconcerned manner at the play-houſe in Drury-Lane, and hav⯑ing beſpoke another play for the night enſuing; having ſubſcribed to a new opera that was to be acted ſome time after, and talked of making an elabo⯑rate defence, he went off that ſame night in diſguiſe to Dover, as a ſer⯑vant to LE VIGNE, a meſſenger be⯑longing to the French king; and there [37] one WILLIAM MORGAN, who had been a captain in General HILL's regiment of dragoons, hired a veſſel, and car⯑ried him over to Calais, where the governor attended him in his coach, and carried him to his houſe with all poſſible diſtinction.

The news of lord BOLINGBROKE's flight was ſoon known over the whole town; and the next day, a letter from him to lord LANSDOWNE, was handed about in print, to the follow⯑ing effect.

No ſooner was it univerſally known that he was retired to France, than [40] his flight was conſtrued into a proof of his guilt; and his enemies accord⯑ingly ſet about driving on his im⯑peachment with redoubled alacrity. Mr. afterwards, Sir ROBERT WALPOLE, who had ſuffered a good deal by his attachment to the whig intereſt dur⯑ing the former reign, now undertook to bring in and conduct the charge againſt him in the houſe of commons. His impeachment conſiſted of ſix ar⯑ticles, which WALPOLE read to the houſe, in ſubſtance as follows. Firſt, That whereas the lord BOLINGBROKE had aſſured the Dutch miniſters, that the queen his miſtreſs would make no peace but in concert with them, yet he had ſent Mr. PRIOR to France, that ſame year, with propoſals for a treaty of peace with that monarch, without the conſent of the allies. Secondly, That he adviſed and pro⯑moted [41] the making a ſeparate treaty or convention with France, which was ſigned in September. Thirdly, That he diſcloſed to M. MESNAGER, the French miniſter at London, this con⯑vention, which was the preliminary inſtructions to her majeſty's plenipo⯑tentiaries at Utrecht. Fourthly, That her majeſty's final inſtructions to her plenipotentiaries, were diſcloſed by him to the abbot GUALTIER, who was an emiſſary of France. Fifthly, That he diſcloſed to the French the manner how Tournay in Flanders might be gained by them. And laſtly, That he adviſed and promoted the yielding up Spain and the Weſt-Indies to the duke of ANJOU, then an enemy to her ma⯑jeſty. Theſe were urged by WAL⯑POLE with great vehemence, and ag⯑gravated with all the eloquence of which he was maſter. He challenged [42] any perſon in the houſe to appear in behalf of the accuſed, and aſſerted, that to vindicate, were in a manner to ſhare his guilt. In this univerſal con⯑ſternation of the tory party, none was for ſome time ſeen to ſtir; but at length General ROSS, who had re⯑ceived favours from his lordſhip, bold⯑ly ſtood up, and ſaid he wondered that no man more capable was found to appear in defence of the accuſed. However, in attempting to proceed, he heſitated ſo much that he was ob⯑liged to ſit down, obſerving, that he would reſerve what he had to ſay to another opportunity. It may eaſily be ſuppoſed, that the whigs found no great difficulty in paſſing the vote for his impeachment through the houſe of commons. It was brought into that houſe on the 10th of June 1715, it was ſent up to the houſe of [43] lords on the 6th of Auguſt enſuing, and in conſequence of which he was attainted by them of high treaſon on the 10th of September. Nothing could be more unjuſt than ſuch a ſentence; but juſtice had been long drowned in the ſpirit of party.

BOLINGBROKE thus finding all hopes cut off at home, began to think of improving his wretched fortune upon the continent. He had left England with a very ſmall fortune, and his at⯑tainder totally cut off all reſources for the future. In this depreſſed ſitua⯑tion, he began to liſten to ſome pro⯑poſals which were made him by the Pretender, who was then reſiding at Barr, in France, and who was de⯑ſirous of admitting BOLINGBROKE into his ſecret councils. A propoſal of this nature had been made him ſhortly [44] after his arrival at Paris, and before his attainder at home; but while he had yet any hopes of ſucceeding in England, he abſolutely refuſed, and made the beſt applications his ruined fortune would permit, to prevent the extremity of his proſecution.

He had for ſome time waited for an opportunity of determining him⯑ſelf, even after he found it vain to think of making his peace at home. He let his Jacobite friends in England know that they had but to command him, and he was ready to venture in their ſervice the little all that remain⯑ed, as frankly as he had expoſed all that was gone. At length, (ſays he, talking of himſelf) theſe commands came, and were executed in the fol⯑lowing manner. The perſon who was ſent to me, arrived in the be⯑ginning [45] of July 1715, at the place where I had retired to in Dauphine. He ſpoke in the name of all the friends whoſe authority could in⯑fluence me; and he brought me word that Scotland was not only ready to take arms, but under ſome ſort of diſſatisfaction to be withheld from be⯑ginning: that in England the peo⯑ple were exaſperated againſt the go⯑vernment to ſuch a degree, that far from wanting to be encouraged, they could not be reſtrained from inſulting it on every occaſion; that the whole tory party was become avowedly Ja⯑cobites; that many officers of the army, and the majority of the ſol⯑diers, were well affected to the cauſe; that the city of London was ready to riſe, and that the enterprizes for ſeiz⯑ing of ſeveral places, were ripe for execution; in a word, that moſt of [46] the principal tories were in a concert with the duke of ORMOND: for I had preſſed particularly to be informed whether his grace acted alone, or if not, who were his council; and that the others were ſo diſpoſed, that there remained no doubt of their joining, as ſoon as the firſt blow ſhould be ſtruck. He added, that my friends were a little ſurpriſed, to obſerve that I lay neuter in ſuch a conjuncture. He repreſented to me the danger I ran, of being prevented by people of all ſides from having the merit of en⯑gaging early in this enterprize, and how unaccountable it would be for a man, impeached and attainted under the preſent government, to take no ſhare in bringing about a revolution ſo near at hand, and ſo certain. He intreated that I would defer no longer to join the Chevalier, to adviſe and [47] aſſiſt in carrying on his affairs, and to ſolicit and negotiate at the court of France, where my friends imagined that I ſhould not fail to meet a fa⯑vourable reception, and from whence they made no doubt of receiving aſ⯑ſiſtance in a ſituation of affairs ſo cri⯑tical, ſo unexpected, and ſo promiſ⯑ing. He concluded, by giving me a letter from the Pretender, whom he had ſeen in his way to me, in which I was preſſed to repair without loſs of time to Comercy; and this inſtance was grounded on the meſſage which the bearer of the letter had brought me from England. In the progreſs of the converſation with the meſſen⯑ger, he related a number of facts, which ſatisfied me as to the general diſpoſition of the people; but he gave me little ſatisfaction as to the mea⯑ſures taken to improve this diſpoſi⯑tion, [48] for driving the buſineſs on with vigour, if it tended to a revolution, or for ſupporting it to advantage if it ſpun into a war. When I queſ⯑tioned him concerning ſeveral perſons whoſe diſinclination to the govern⯑ment admitted no doubt, and whoſe names, quality, and experience were very eſſential to the ſucceſs of the un⯑dertaking; he owned to me that they kept a great reſerve, and did at moſt but encourage others to act by general and dark expreſſions. I received this account and this ſummons ill in my my bed; yet important as the matter was, a few minutes ſerved to deter⯑mine me. The circumſtances want⯑ing to form a reaſonable inducement to engage, did not excuſe me; but the ſmart of a bill of attainder tingled in every vein, and I looked on my party to be under oppreſſion, and to [49] call for my aſſiſtance. Beſides which, I conſidered firſt that I ſhould be certainly informed, when I con⯑ferred with the Chevalier, of many particulars unknown to this gentle⯑man; for I did not imagine that the Engliſh could be ſo near to take up arms as he repreſented them to be, on no other foundation than that which he expoſed.

In this manner having for ſome time debated with himſelf, and taken his reſolution, he loſt no time in re⯑pairing to the Pretender at Comer⯑cy, and took the ſeals of that nomi⯑nal king, as he had formerly thoſe of his potent miſtreſs. But this was a terrible falling off indeed; and the very firſt converſation he had with this weak projector, gave him the moſt unfavourable expectations of fu⯑ture [50] ſucceſs. He talked to me, (ſays his lordſhip) like a man who expected every moment to ſet out for England or Scotland, but who did not very well know for which; and when he en⯑tered into the particulars of his affairs, I found, that concerning the former, he had nothing more circumſtantial or poſitive to go upon, than what I have already related. But the duke of ORMOND had been for ſome time, I cannot ſay how long, engaged with the Chevalier: he had taken the di⯑rection of this whole affair, as far as it related to England, upon himſelf, and had received a commiſſion for this purpoſe, which contained the moſt ample powers that could be given. But ſtill, however, all was unſettled, undetermined, and ill un⯑derſtood. The duke had aſked from France a ſmall body of forces, a ſum [51] of money, and a quantity of amuni⯑tion; but to the firſt part of the re⯑queſt he received a flat denial, but was made to hope that ſome arms and ſome amunition might be given. This was but a very gloomy proſpect; yet hope ſwelled the depreſſed party ſo high, that they talked of nothing leſs than an inſtant and ready revolution. It was their intereſt to be ſecret and induſtrious; but rendered ſanguine by their paſſions, they made no doubt of ſubverting a government with which they were angry, and gave as great an alarm, as would have been imprudent at the eve of a general in⯑ſurrection.

Such was the ſtate of things, when BOLINGBROKE arrived to take up his new office at Comercy; and although he ſaw the deplorable ſtate of the [52] party with which he was embarked, yet he reſolved to give his affairs the beſt complexion he was able, and ſet out for Paris, in order to procure from that court the neceſſary ſuccours for his new maſter's invaſion of Eng⯑land. But his reception and nego⯑tiations at Paris, were ſtill more un⯑promiſing than thoſe at Comercy, and nothing but abſolute infatuation ſeemed to dictate every meaſure taken by the party. He there found a mul⯑titude of people at work, and every one doing what ſeemed good in his own eyes; no ſubordination, no or⯑der, no concert. The Jacobites had wrought one another up to look upon the ſucceſs of the preſent deſigns, as infallible: every meeting-houſe which the populace demoliſhed, as he him⯑ſelf ſays, every little drunken riot which happened, ſerved to confirm [53] them in theſe ſanguine expectations; and there was hardly one among them who would loſe the air of con⯑tributing by his intrigues to the re⯑ſtoration, which he took for granted would be brought about in a few weeks. Care and hope, ſays our au⯑thor very humorouſly, ſate on every buſy Iriſh face; thoſe who could read and write, had letters to ſhew, and thoſe who had not arrived to this pitch of erudition, had their ſecrets to whiſper. No ſex was excluded from this miniſtry; FANNY OGLE⯑THORPE kept her corner in it, and OLIVE TRANT, a woman of the ſame mixed reputation, was the great wheel of this political machine. The ridi⯑culous correſpondence was carried on with England by people of like im⯑portance, and who were buſy in ſounding the alarm in the ears of an [54] enemy, whom it was their intereſt to ſurpriſe. By theſe means, as he him⯑ſelf continues to inform us, the go⯑vernment of England was put on its guard, ſo that before he came to Paris, what was doing had been diſ⯑covered. The little armament made at Havre de Grace, which furniſhed the only means to the Pretender of landing on the coaſts of Britain, and which had exhauſted the treaſury of St. Germains, was talked of publicly. The earl of STAIR, the Engliſh mi⯑niſter at that city, very ſoon diſcover⯑ed its deſtination, and all the parti⯑culars of the intended invaſion; the names of the perſons from whom ſup⯑plies came, and who were particularly active in the deſign, were whiſpered about at tea-tables and coffee-houſes. In ſhort, what by the indiſcretion of the projectors, what by the private [55] intereſts and ambitious views of the French, the moſt private tranſactions came to light; and ſuch of the more pru⯑dent plotters, who ſuppoſed that they had truſted their heads to the keeping of one or two friends, were in reality at the mercy of numbers. Into ſuch com⯑pany, exclaims our noble writer, was I fallen for my ſins. Still, however, he went on, ſteering in the wide ocean without a compaſs, till the death of LEWIS XIV. and the arrival of the duke of ORMOND at Paris, rendered all his endeavours abortive: yet not⯑withſtanding theſe unfavourable cir⯑cumſtances, he ſtill continued to diſ⯑patch ſeveral meſſages and directions for England, to which he received very evaſive and ambiguous anſwers. Among the number of theſe, he drew up a paper at Chaville, in concert with the duke of ORMOND, marſhal [56] BERWICK, and DE TORCY, which was ſent to England juſt before the death of the king of France, repreſenting that France could not anſwer the de⯑mands of their memorial, and pray⯑ing directions what to do. A reply to this came to him through the French ſecretary of ſtate, wherein they declared themſelves unable to ſay any thing, till they ſaw what turn affairs would take on the death of the king, which had reached their ears. Upon another occaſion, a meſſage coming from Scotland to preſs the Chevalier to haſten their riſing, he diſpatched a meſſenger to London to the earl of MAR, to tell him that the concurrence of England in the inſur⯑rection, was ardently wiſhed and ex⯑pected; but inſtead of that noble⯑man's waiting for inſtructions, he had already gone into the highlands, and [57] had there actually put himſelf at the head of his clans. After this, in concert with the duke of ORMOND, he diſpatched one Mr. HAMILTON, who got all the papers by heart, for fear of a miſcarriage, to their friends in England, to inform them, that though the Chevalier was deſtitute of ſuccour, and all reaſonable hopes of it, yet he would land as they pleaſed in England or Scotland, at a minute's warning; and therefore they might riſe immediately after they had ſent diſpatches to him. To this meſſage Mr. HAMILTON returned very ſoon, with an anſwer given by lord LANS⯑DOWNE, in the name of all the perſons privy to the ſecret, that ſince affairs grew daily worſe, and would not mend by delay, the malecontents in Eng⯑land had reſolved to declare imme⯑diately, and would be ready to join [58] the duke of ORMOND on his landing; adding, that his perſon would be as ſafe in England as in Scotland, and that in every other reſpect it was bet⯑ter he ſhould land in England; that they had uſed their utmoſt endea⯑vours, and hoped the weſtern coun⯑ties would be in a good poſture to re⯑ceive him, and that he ſhould land as near as poſſible to Plymouth. With theſe aſſurances the duke em⯑barked, though he had heard before of the ſeizure of many of his moſt zealous adherents, of the diſperſion of many more, and the conſternation of all; ſo that upon his arrival at Ply⯑mouth, finding nothing in readineſs, he returned to Britanny. In theſe circumſtances the Pretender himſelf ſent to have a veſſel got ready for him at Dunkirk, in which he went to Scot⯑land, leaving lord BOLINGBROKE all [59] this while at Paris, to try if by any means ſome aſſiſtance might not be procured, without which all hopes of ſucceſs were at an end. It was dur⯑ing his negotiation upon this miſera⯑ble proceeding, that he was ſent for by Mrs. TRANT, (a woman who had ſome time before ingratiated herſelf with the regent of France, by ſup⯑plying him with miſtreſſes from Eng⯑land) to a little houſe in the Bois de Boulogne, where ſhe lived with ma⯑damoiſelle CHAUSSERY, an old ſuper⯑annuated waiting-woman belonging to the regent. By theſe he was ac⯑quainted with the meaſures they had taken for the ſervice of the duke of ORMOND; although BOLINGBROKE, who was actual ſecretary to the nego⯑tiation, had never been admitted to a confidence in their ſecrets. He was therefore a little ſurpriſed, at finding [60] ſuch mean agents employed without his privity, and very ſoon found them utterly unequal to the taſk. He quickly therefore withdrew himſelf from ſuch wretched auxiliaries, and the regent himſelf ſeemed pleaſed at his defection.

In the mean time the Pretender ſet ſail from Dunkirk for Scotland, and though BOLINGBROKE had all along perceived that his cauſe was hopeleſs and his projects ill deſigned; although he had met with nothing but oppoſition and diſappointment in his ſervice, yet he conſidered that this of all others was the time he could not be permitted to relax in the cauſe. He now therefore neglected no means, forgot no argument which his under⯑ſtanding could ſuggeſt, in applying to the court of France: but his ſuc⯑ceſs [61] was not anſwerable to his induſ⯑try. The king of France, not able to furniſh the Pretender with money himſelf, had writ ſome time before his death to his grandſon the king of Spain, and had obtained from him a promiſe of forty thouſand crowns. A ſmall part of this ſum had been re⯑ceived by the queen's treaſurer at St. Germains, and had been ſent to Scot⯑land, or employed to defray the ex⯑pences which were daily making on the coaſt: at the ſame time BOLINGBROKE preſſed the Spaniſh ambaſſador at Pa⯑ris, and ſolicited the miniſter at the court of Spain. He took care to have a number of officers picked out of the Iriſh troops which ſerve in France, gave them their routes, and ſent a ſhip to receive and tranſport them to Scot⯑land. Still however the money came in ſo ſlowly, and in ſuch trifling ſums, [62] that it turned to little account; and the officers were on their way to the Pretender. At the ſame time he formed a deſign of engaging French privateers in the expedition, that were to have carried whatever ſhould be neceſſary to ſend to any part of Bri⯑tain in their firſt voyage, and then to cruize under the Pretender's commiſ⯑ſion. He had actually agreed for ſome, and had it in his power to have made the ſame bargain with others: Sweden on one ſide, and Scotland on the other, could have afforded them retreats; and if the war had been kept up in any part of the mountains, this armament would have been of the ut⯑moſt advantage. But all his projects and negotiations failed, by the Pre⯑tender's precipitate return, who was not above ſix weeks in his expedition, [63] and flew out of Scotland even before all had been tried in his defence.

The expedition being in this man⯑ner totally defeated, BOLINGBROKE now began to think that it was his duty as well as intereſt, to ſave the poor remains of the diſappointed par⯑ty. He never had any great opinion of the Pretender's ſucceſs before he ſet off; but when this adventurer had taken the laſt ſtep which it was in his power to make, our ſecretary then reſolved to ſuffer neither him, nor the Scotch, to be any longer bubbles of their own credulity, and of the ſcan⯑dalous artifices of the French court. In a converſation he had with the marſhal DE HUXELLES, he took oc⯑caſion to declare, that he would not be the inſtrument of amuſing the Scotch; and ſince he was able to do [64] them no other ſervice, he would at leaſt inform them of what little de⯑pendence they might place upon aſ⯑ſiſtance from France. He added, that he would ſend them veſſels, which with thoſe already on the coaſt of Scotland, might ſerve to bring off the Pretender, the earl of MAR, and as many others as poſſible. The marſhal approved his reſolution, and adviſed him to execute it as the only thing which was left to do; but in the mean time the Pretender landed at Graveline, and gave orders to ſtop all veſſels bound on his account to Scotland; and BOLINGBROKE ſaw him the morning after his arrival at St. Germains, and he received him with open arms.

As it was the ſecretary's buſineſs, as ſoon as BOLINGBROKE heard of his [65] return, he went to acquaint the French court with it, when it was recommended to him to adviſe the Pretender to proceed to Bar with all poſſible diligence; and in this mea⯑ſure BOLINGBROKE entirely concurred. But the Pretender himſelf was in no ſuch haſte, he had a mind to ſtay ſome time at St. Germains, and in the neighbourhood of Paris, and to have a private meeting with the re⯑gent: he accordingly ſent BOLING⯑BROKE to ſolicit this meeting, who exerted all his influence in the nego⯑tiation. He wrote and ſpoke to the marſhal DE HUXELLES, who anſwer⯑ed him by word of mouth and by letters, refuſing him by both, and aſſuring him that the regent ſaid the things which were aſked were pueri⯑lities, and ſwore he would not ſee him. The ſecretary, no ways diſ⯑pleaſed [66] with his ill ſucceſs, returned with this anſwer to his maſter, who acquieſced in this determination, and declared he would inſtantly ſet out for Lorrain, at the ſame time aſſuring BOLINGBROKE of his firm reliance on his integrity.

However the Pretender, inſtead of taking poſt for Lorrain, as he had promiſed, went to a little houſe in the Bois de Boulogne, where his female miniſters reſided, and there continued for ſeveral days, ſeeing the Spaniſh and Swediſh miniſters, and even the regent himſelf. It might have been in theſe interviews that he was ſet againſt his new ſecretary, and taught to believe that he had been remiſs in his duty, and falſe to his truſt: be this as it will, a few days after, the duke of ORMOND came to ſee BOLING⯑BROKE, [67] and having firſt prepared him for the ſurpriſe, put into his hands a note directed to the duke, and a lit⯑tle ſcrip of paper directed to the ſe⯑cretary; they were both in the Pre⯑tender's hand-writing, and dated as if written by him on his way to Lor⯑rain: but in this BOLINGBROKE was not to be deceived, who knew the place of his preſent reſidence. In one of theſe papers the Pretender declared that he had no further occaſion for the ſecretary's ſervice, and the other was an order to him to give up the papers in his office; all which he ob⯑ſerves, might have been contained in a letter-caſe of a moderate ſize. He gave the duke the ſeals, and ſome papers which he could readily come at; but for ſome others, in which there were ſeveral inſinuations under the Pretender's own hand, reflecting [68] upon the duke himſelf, theſe he took care to convey by a ſafe hand, ſince it would have been very improper that the duke ſhould have ſeen them. As he thus gave up without ſcruple all the papers which remained in his hands, becauſe he was determined never to make uſe of them, ſo he declares he took a ſecret pride in never aſking for thoſe of his own which were in the Pretender's hands; con⯑tenting himſelf with making the duke underſtand, how little need there was to get rid of a man in this manner, who only wanted an opportunity to get rid of the Pretender and his cauſe. In fact, if we ſurvey the meaſures taken on the one ſide, and the abi⯑lities of the man on the other, it will not appear any way wonderful that he ſhould be diſguſted with a party, who had neither principle to give a [69] foundation to their hopes, union to advance them, or abilities to put them in motion.

BOLINGBROKE being thus diſmiſſed from the Pretender's ſervice, he ſup⯑poſed that he had got rid of the trou⯑ble and the ignominy of ſo mean an employment at the ſame time; but he was miſtaken: he was no ſooner rejected from the office, than articles of impeachment were preferred againſt him, in the ſame manner as he had before been impeached in England, though not with ſuch effectual injury to his perſon and fortune. The ar⯑ticles of his impeachment by the Pre⯑tender were branched out into ſeven heads, in which he was accuſed of treachery, incapacity, and neglect. The firſt was, That he was never to be found by thoſe who came to him [70] about buſineſs; and if by chance or ſtratagem they got hold of him, he affected being in an hurry, and by putting them off to another time, ſtill avoided giving them any anſwer. The ſecond was, That the earl of MAR complained by ſix different meſſen⯑gers, at different times, before the Chevalier came from Dunkirk, of his being in want of arms and ammunition, and prayed a ſpeedy relief; and though the things demanded were in my lord's power, there was not ſo much as one pound of powder in any of the ſhips, which by his lordſhip's directions parted from France. Thirdly, The Pretender himſelf, after his arrival, ſent general HAMILTON to inform him, that his want of arms and ammu⯑nition was ſuch, that he ſhould be obliged to leave Scotland, unleſs he received ſpeedy relief: yet lord BO⯑LINGBROKE [71] amuſed Mr. HAMILTON twelve days together, and did not in⯑troduce him to any of the French mi⯑niſters, though he was referred to them for a particular account of affairs; or ſo much as communicated his letters to the queen, or any body elſe. Fourthly, The count DE CASTEL BLANCO had for ſeveral months at Havre, a conſiderable quantity of arms and ammunition, and did daily aſk his lordſhip's orders how to diſpoſe of them, but never got any inſtruc⯑tions. Fifthly, The Pretender's friends at the French court, had for ſome time paſt no very good opinion of his lordſhip's integrity, and a very bad one of his diſcretion. Sixthly, At a time when many merchants in France would have carried privately any quan⯑tity of arms and ammunition into Scot⯑land, his lordſhip deſired a public or⯑der [72] for the embarkation, which being a thing not to be granted, is ſaid to have been done in order to urge a de⯑nial. Laſtly, The Pretender wrote to his lordſhip by every occaſion after his arrival in Scotland; and though there were many opportunities of writ⯑ing in return, yet from the time he landed there, to the day he left it, he never received any letter from his lordſhip. Such were the articles, by a very extraordinary reverſe of for⯑tune, preferred againſt lord BOLING⯑BROKE, in leſs than a year after ſi⯑milar articles were drawn up againſt him by the oppoſite party at home. It is not eaſy to find out what he could have done, thus to diſoblige all ſides; but he had learned by this time, to make out happineſs from the conſciouſneſs of his own deſigns, and to conſider all the reſt of mankind [73] as uniting in a faction to oppreſs virtue.

But though it was mortifying to be thus rejected on both ſides, yet he was not remiſs in vindicating himſelf from all. Againſt theſe articles of impeachment, therefore, he drew up an elaborate anſwer, in which he vin⯑dicates himſelf with great plauſibility. He had long, as he aſſures, wiſhed to leave the Pretender's ſervice, but was entirely at a loſs how to conduct himſelf in ſo difficult a reſignation; but at length, ſays he, the Pretender and his council diſpoſed of things bet⯑ter for me than I could have done for myſelf. I had reſolved on his return from Scotland, to follow him till his reſidence ſhould be fixed ſomewhere; after which, having ſerved the tories in this, which I looked upon as their [74] laſt ſtruggle for power, and having continued to act in the Pretender's affairs, till the end of the term for which I embarked with him, I ſhould have eſteemed myſelf to be at liberty, and ſhould, in the civileſt manner I was able, have taken my leave of him. Had we parted thus, I ſhould have remained in a very ſtrange ſitua⯑tion all the reſt of my life; on one ſide, he would have thought that he had a right on any future occaſion to call me out of my retreat, the tories would probably have thought the ſame thing, my reſolution was taken to re⯑fuſe them both, and I foreſaw that both would condemn me: on the other ſide, the conſideration of his having kept meaſures with me, joined to that of having once openly de⯑clared for him, would have created a point of honour by which I ſhould [75] have been tied down, not only from ever engaging againſt him, but alſo from making my peace at home. The Pretender cut this Gordian knot aſun⯑der at one blow; he broke the links of that chain which former engage⯑ments had faſtened on me, and gave me a right to eſteem myſelf as free from all obligations of keeping mea⯑ſures with him, as I ſhould have con⯑tinued if I had never engaged in his intereſt.

It is not to be ſuppoſed that, one ſo very delicate to preſerve his ho⯑nour, would previouſly have baſely betrayed his employer: a man con⯑ſcious of acting ſo infamous a part, would have undertaken no defence, but let the accuſations, which could not materially affect him, blow over, and wait for the calm that was to ſuc⯑ceed [76] in tranquillity. He appeals to all the miniſters with whom he tranſ⯑acted buſineſs, for the integrity of his proceedings at that juncture; and had he been really guilty, when he op⯑poſed the miniſtry here after his re⯑turn, they would not have failed to brand and detect his duplicity. The truth is, that he perhaps was the moſt diſintereſted miniſter at that time in the Pretender's court; as he had ſpent great ſums of his own money in his ſervice, and never would be obliged to him for a farthing, in which caſe he believes that he was ſingle. His integrity is much leſs impeachable on this occaſion than his ambition; for all the ſteps he took may be fairly aſcribed to his diſpleaſure, at having the duke of ORMOND and the earl of MAR treated more confidentially than himſelf. It was his aim always to be [77] foremoſt in every adminiſtration, and he could not bear to act as a ſubal⯑tern, in ſo paltry a court as that of the Pretender.

At all periods of his exile, he ſtill looked towards home with ſecret re⯑gret; and had taken every opportu⯑nity to apply to thoſe in power, ei⯑ther to ſoften his proſecutions, or leſſen the number of his enemies at home. In accepting his office under the Pretender, he made it a condition to be at liberty to quit the poſt when⯑ever he ſhould think proper; and be⯑ing now diſgracefully diſmiſſed, he turned his mind entirely towards mak⯑ing his peace in England, and em⯑ploying all the unfortunate experience he had acquired to undeceive his tory friends, and to promote the union and quiet of his native country. It was [78] not a little favourable to his hopes, that about this time, though unknown to him, the earl of STAIR, ambaſſador to the French court, had received full power to treat with him whilſt he was engaged with the Pretender; but yet had never made him any propoſals, which might be conſidered as the groſſeſt outrage. But when the breach with the Pretender was univerſally known, the earl ſent one mon⯑ſieur SALUDIN, a gentleman of Geneva, to lord BOLINGBROKE, to communicate to him his majeſty king GEORGE's favourable diſpoſition to grant him a pardon, and his own earneſt deſire to ſerve him as far as he was able. This was an offer by much too advantage⯑ours for BOLINGBROKE in his wretched circumſtances to refuſe; he embraced it, as became him to do, with all poſ⯑ſible ſenſe of the king's goodneſs, and [79] of the ambaſſador's friendſhip. They had frequent conferences ſhortly after upon the ſubject. The turn which the Engliſh miniſtry gave the matter, was to enter into a treaty to reverſe his attainder, and to ſtipulate the conditions on which this act of grace ſhould be granted him: but this me⯑thod of negotiation he would by no means ſubmit to; the notion of a treaty ſhocked him, and he reſolved never to be reſtored, rather than go that way to work. Accordingly he opened himſelf without any reſerve to lord STAIR, and told him, that he looked upon himſelf obliged in ho⯑nour and conſcience, to undeceive his friends in England, both as to the ſtate of foreign affairs, as to the ma⯑nagement of the Jacobite intereſt abroad, and as to the characters of the perſons; in every one of which points [80] he knew them to be moſt groſsly and moſt dangerouſly deluded. He ob⯑ſerved, that the treatment he had re⯑ceived from the Pretender and his ad⯑herents, would juſtify him to the world in doing this. That if he remained in exile all his life, that he might be aſſured that he would never have more to do with the Jacobite cauſe; and that if he were reſtored, he would give it an effectual blow, in making that apology which the Pretender had put him under a neceſſity of making. That in doing this, he flattered him⯑ſelf that he ſhould contribute ſome⯑thing towards the eſtabliſhment of the king's government, and to the union of his ſubjects. He added, that if the court thought him ſincere in thoſe profeſſions, a treaty with him was un⯑neceſſary; and if they did not believe ſo, then a treaty would be dangerous to [81] him. The earl of STAIR, who has alſo confirmed this account of lord BOLINGBROKE's, in a letter to Mr. CRAGGS, readily came into his ſenti⯑ments on this head, and ſoon after the king approved it upon their re⯑preſentations: he accordingly receiv⯑ed a promiſe of pardon from GEORGE I. who on the 2d of July 1716, created his father baron of BATTERSEA, in the county of Surry, and Viſcount ST. JOHN. This ſeemed preparatory to his own reſtoration; and inſtead of proſecuting any farther ambitious ſchemes againſt the government, he rather began to turn his mind to phi⯑loſophy; and ſince he could not gra⯑tify his ambition to its full extent, he endeavoured to learn the arts of de⯑ſpiſing it. The variety of diſtreſsful events that had hitherto attended all his ſtruggles, at laſt had thrown him [82] into a ſtate of reflection, and this pro⯑duced, by way of relief, a conſolatio philoſophica, which he wrote the ſame year, under the title of Reflec⯑tions upon exile. In this piece, in which he profeſſes to imitate the manner of SENECA, he with ſome wit draws his own picture, and repreſents himſelf as ſuffering perſecution, for having ſerved his country with abilities and integrity. A ſtate of exile thus incurred, he very juſtly ſhews to be rather honourable than diſtreſsful; and indeed, there are few men that will deny, but that the company of ſtrangers to virtue, is better than the company of enemies to it. Beſides this philoſophical tract, he alſo wrote this year ſeveral letters, in anſwer to the charge laid upon him by the Pre⯑tender and his adherents; and the fol⯑lowing year he drew up a vindication [83] of his whole conduct with reſpect to the tories, in the form of a letter, to Sir WILLIAM WYNDHAM.

Nor was he ſo entirely devoted to the fatigues of buſineſs, but that he gave pleaſure a ſhare in his purſuits. He had never much agreed with the lady he firſt married, and after a ſhort cohabitation, they ſeparated and lived ever after aſunder. She therefore re⯑mained in England, upon his going into exile, and by proper application to the throne, was allowed a proper maintenance to ſupport her with be⯑coming dignity: however, ſhe did not long ſurvive his firſt diſgrace, and upon his becoming a widower, he began to think of trying his fortune once more, in a ſtate which was at firſt ſo unfavourable. For this pur⯑poſe, he caſt his eyes on the widow [84] of the marquis of VILLETTE, and niece to the famous madam MAIN⯑TENON; a young lady of great merit and underſtanding, poſſeſſed of a very large fortune, but encumbered with a long and troubleſome law-ſuit. In the company of this very ſenſible wo⯑man, he paſſed his time in France, ſometimes in the country, and ſome⯑times at the capital, till the year 1723, in which, after the breaking up of the parliament, his majeſty was pleaſed to grant him a pardon as to his perſonal ſafety, but as yet neither reſtoring him to his family inheritance, his ti⯑tle, or a ſeat in parliament.

To obtain this favour, had been the governing principle of his poli⯑tics for ſome years before; and upon the firſt notice of his good fortune, he prepared to return to his native [85] country, where, however, his deareſt connexions were either dead, or de⯑clared themſelves ſuſpicious of his for⯑mer conduct in ſupport of their party. It is obſervable, that biſhop ATTER⯑BURY, who was baniſhed at this time, for a ſuppoſed treaſonable correſpon⯑dence in favour of the tories, was ſet on ſhore at Calais, juſt when lord BOLINGBROKE arrived there on his re⯑turn to England. So extraordinary a reverſe of fortune, could not fail of ſtrongly affecting that good prelate, who obſerved with ſome emotion, that he perceived himſelf to be ex⯑changed: he preſently left it to his auditors to imagine, whether his coun⯑try were the loſer or the gainer by ſuch an exchange.

Lord BOLINGBROKE, upon his re⯑turn to his native country, began to [86] make very vigorous applications for further favours from the crown; his pardon, without the means of ſup⯑port, was but an empty, or perhaps, it might be called a diſtreſsful act of kindneſs, as it brought him back a⯑mong his former friends, in a ſtate of inferiority his pride could not endure. However, his applications were ſoon after ſucceſsful, for in about two years after his return, he obtained an act of parliament to reſtore him to his fa⯑mily inheritance, which amounted to near three thouſand pounds a year. He was alſo enabled by the ſame, to poſſeſs any purchaſe he ſhould make of any other eſtate in the kingdom; and he accordingly pitched upon a ſeat of lord TANKERVILLE's, at Daw⯑ley, near Uxbridge in Middleſex, where he ſettled with his lady, and laid himſelf out to enjoy the rural [87] pleaſures in perfection, ſince the more glorious ones of ambition were denied him. With this reſolution he began to improve his new purchaſe in a very peculiar ſtyle, giving it all the air of a country farm, and adorning even his hall with all the implements of huſbandry. We have a ſketch of his way of living in this retreat, in a let⯑ter of POPE's to SWIFT, who omits no opportunity of repreſenting his lordſhip in the moſt amiable points of view. This letter is dated from Daw⯑ley, the country farm above-men⯑tioned, and begins thus. ‘"I now hold the pen for my lord BOLING⯑BROKE, who is reading your letter between two hay-cocks; but his attention is ſomewhat diverted, by caſting his eyes on the clouds, not in admiration of what you ſay, but for fear of a ſhower. He is pleaſed [88] with your placing him in the tri⯑umvirate, between yourſelf and me; though he ſays he doubts he ſhall fare like LEPIDUS, while one of us runs away with all the power, like AUGUSTUS, and another with all the pleaſure, like ANTONY. It is upon a foreſight of this, that he has fitted up his farm, and you will agree that this ſcheme of retreat is not founded upon weak appear⯑ances. Upon his return from Bath, he finds all peccant humours are purged out of him; and his great temperance and oeconomy are ſo ſignal, that the firſt is fit for my conſtitution, and the latter would enable you to lay up ſo much mo⯑ney as to buy a biſhopric in Eng⯑land. As to the return of his health and vigour, were you here, you might enquire of his hay⯑makers; [89] but as to his temperance, I can anſwer that for one whole day, we have had nothing for din⯑ner but mutton broth, beans and bacon, and a barn-door fowl. Now his lordſhip is run after his cart, I have a moment left to myſelf to tell you, that I overheard him yeſterday agree with a painter for two hun⯑dred pounds, to paint his country⯑hall with rakes, ſpades, prongs, &c. and other ornaments, merely to countenance his calling this place a FARM."’ What POPE here ſays of his engagements with a painter, was ſhortly after executed; the hall was painted accordingly in black crayons only, ſo that at firſt view it brought to mind the figures often ſeen ſcratched with char⯑coal, or the ſmoak of a candle, upon the kitchen walls of farm-houſes. The whole however produced a moſt ſtrik⯑ing [90] effect, and over the door at the entrance into it, was this motto: SA⯑TIS BEATUS RURIS HONORIBUS. His lordſhip ſeemed to be extremely hap⯑py in this purſuit of moral tranquillity, and in the exultation of his heart, could not fail of communicating his ſatisfactions to his friend SWIFT. I am in my own farm, ſays he, and here I ſhoot ſtrong and tenacious roots; I have caught hold of the earth, to uſe a gardener's phraſe, and nei⯑ther my enemies nor my friends will find it an eaſy matter to tranſplant me again.

There is not, perhaps, a ſtronger inſtance in the world than his lord⯑ſhip, that an ambitious mind can ne⯑ver be fairly ſubdued, but will ſtill ſeek for thoſe gratifications which re⯑tirement can never ſupply. All this [91] time he was miſtaken in his paſſion for ſolitude, and ſuppoſed that to be the child of philoſophy, which was only the effects of ſpleen: it was in vain that he attempted to take root in the ſhade of obſcurity, he was originally bred in the glare of public occupa⯑tion, and he ſecretly once more wiſhed for tranſplantation. He was only a titular lord, he had not been tho⯑roughly reſtored; and, as he was ex⯑cluded from a ſeat in the houſe of peers, he burned with impatience to play a part in that conſpicuous thea⯑tre. Impelled by this deſire, he could no longer be reſtrained in obſcurity, but once more entered into the buſtle of public buſineſs, and diſavowing all obligations to the miniſter, he em⯑barked in the oppoſition againſt him, in which he had ſeveral powerful co⯑adjutors: but previouſly he had taken [92] care to prefer a petition to the houſe of commons, deſiring to be reinſtated in his former emoluments and capaci⯑ties. This petition at firſt occaſioned very warm debates; WALPOLE, who pretended to eſpouſe his cauſe, al⯑ledged that it was very right to ad⯑mit him to his inheritance; and when lord WILLIAM PAWLETT moved for a clauſe to diſqualify him from ſitting in either houſe, WALPOLE rejected the motion, ſecretly ſatisfied with a reſo⯑lution which had been ſettled in the cabinet, that he ſhould never more be admitted into any ſhare of power. To this artful method of evading his pretenſions, BOLINGBROKE was no ſtranger; and he was now reſolved to ſhake that power, which thus endea⯑voured to obſtruct the increaſe of his own: taking therefore his part in the oppoſition with PULTNEY, while the [93] latter engaged to manage the houſe of commons, BOLINGBROKE under⯑took to enlighten the people: accord⯑ingly he ſoon diſtinguiſhed himſelf by a multitude of pieces, written du⯑ring the latter part of GEORGE the firſt's reign, and likewiſe the begin⯑ning of that which ſucceeded. Theſe were conceived with great vigour and boldneſs; and now, once more en⯑gaged in the ſervice of his country, though diſarmed, gagged, and almoſt bound, as he declared himſelf to be, yet he reſolved not to abandon his cauſe, as long as he could depend on the firmneſs and integrity of thoſe co⯑adjutors, who did not labour under the ſame diſadvantages with himſelf. His letters in a paper called the Craftſ⯑man, were particularly diſtinguiſhed in this political conteſt; and though ſeveral of the moſt expert politicians [94] of the times joined in this paper, his eſſays were peculiarly reliſhed by the public. However, it is the fate of things written to an occaſion, ſeldom to ſurvive that occaſion: the Craftſ⯑man, though written with great ſpirit and ſharpneſs, is now almoſt forgotten, although when it was publiſhed as a weekly paper, it ſold much more ra⯑pidly than even the Spectator. Be⯑ſide this work, he publiſhed ſeveral other ſeparate pamphlets, which were afterwards reprinted in the ſecond edition of his works, and which were very popular in their day.

This political warfare continued for ten years, during which time he laboured with great ſtrength and per⯑ſeverance, and drew up ſuch a ſyſtem of politics, as ſome have ſuppoſed to be the moſt complete now exiſting. [95] But as upon all other occaſions, he had the mortification once more to ſee thoſe friends deſert him, upon whoſe aſſiſtance he moſt firmly re⯑lied, and all that web of fine ſpun ſpeculation actually deſtroyed at once by the ignorance of ſome, and the perfidy of others. He then declared that he was perfectly cured of his pa⯑triotic phrenzy; he fell out not only with PULTNEY for his ſelfiſh views, but with his old friends the tories, for abandoning their cauſe as deſpe⯑rate, averring, that the faint and un⯑ſteady exerciſe of parts on one ſide, was a crime but one degree inferior to the iniquitous miſapplication of them on the other. But he could not take leave of a controverſy in which he had been ſo many years en⯑gaged, without giving a parting blow, in which he ſeemed to ſummon up [96] all his vigour at once, and where, as the poet ſays, ‘Animam in vulnere poſuit.’ This inimitable piece is intituled, A Diſſertation on Parties, and of all his maſterly pieces, it is in general eſ⯑teemed the beſt.

Having finiſhed this, which was received with the utmoſt avidity, he reſolved to take leave not only of his enemies and friends, but even of his country; and in this reſolution, in the year 1736, he once more retired to France, where he looked back to his native country with a mixture of anger and pity, and upon his for⯑mer profeſſing friends, with a ſhare of contempt and indignation. I expect little, ſays he, from the principal actors that tread the ſtage at preſent. [97] They are divided not ſo much as it ſeemed, and as they would have it believed, about meaſures. The true diviſion is about their different ends. Whilſt the miniſter was not hard puſhed, nor the proſpect of ſucceed⯑ing to him near, they appeared to have but one end, the reformation of the government. The deſtruction of the miniſter was purſued only as a preliminary, but of eſſential and in⯑diſputable neceſſity, to that end: but when his deſtruction ſeemed to ap⯑proach, the object of his ſucceſſion interpoſed to the ſight of many, and the reformation of the government was no longer their point of view. They had divided the ſkin, at leaſt in their thoughts, before they had taken the beaſt. The common fear of haſ⯑tening his downfal for others, made them all faint in the chace. It was this, [98] and this alone, that ſaved him, and put off his evil day.

Such were his cooler reflections, after he had laid down his political pen, to employ it in a manner that was much more agreeable to his uſual profeſſions, and his approaching age. He had long employed the few hours he could ſpare, on ſubjects of a more general and important nature to the intereſts of mankind; but as he was frequently interrupted by the alarms of party, he made no great profici⯑ency in his deſign. Still, however, he kept it in view, and he makes fre⯑quent mention in his letters to SWIFT, of his intentions to give metaphyſics a new and uſeful turn. I know, ſays he in, one of theſe, how little regard you pay to writings of this kind; but I imagine, that if you can like any, it muſt be thoſe that ſtrip metaphy⯑ſics [99] of all their bombaſt, keep within the ſight of every well conſtituted eye, and never bewilder themſelves, whilſt they pretend to guide the rea⯑ſon of others.

Having now arrived at the ſixtieth year of his age, and being bleſſed with a very competent ſhare of for⯑tune, he retired into France, far from the noiſe and hurry of party; for his ſeat at Dawley was too near, to de⯑vote the reſt of his life to retirement and ſtudy. Upon his going to that country, as it was generally known that diſdain, vexation, and diſ⯑appointment had driven him there, many of his friends, as well as his enemies ſuppoſed, that he was once again gone over to the Pretender. Among the number who entertained this ſuſpicion, was SWIFT, whom POPE, [100] in one of his letters, very roundly chides for harbouring ſuch an unjuſt opinion. ‘"You ſhould be cautious, ſays he, of cenſuring any motion or action of lord BOLINGBROKE, becauſe you hear it only from ſhal⯑low, envious, and malicious re⯑porters. What you writ to me about him, I find, to my great ſcandal, repeated in one of yours to another. Whatever you might hint to me, was this for the pro⯑fane? The thing, if true, ſhould be concealed; but it is, I aſſure you, abſolutely untrue in every circumſtance. He has fixed in a very agreeable retirement, near Fontainbleau, and makes it his whole buſineſs VACARE LITTERIS."’

This reproof from POPE was not more friendly than it was true; lord [101] BOLINGBROKE was too well acquaint⯑ed with the forelorn ſtate of that par⯑ty, and the folly of its conductors, once more to embark in their deſpe⯑rate concerns. He now ſaw, that he had gone as far towards reinſtating himſelf in the full poſſeſſion of his former honours, as the mere dint of parts and application could go, and was at length experimentally con⯑vinced, that the decree was abſolutely irreverſible, and the door of the houſe of lords finally ſhut againſt him. He therefore, at POPE's ſuggeſtion, re⯑tired merely to be at leiſure from the broils of oppoſition, for the calmer pleaſures of philoſophy. Thus the de⯑cline of his life, though leſs brilliant, became more amiable; and even his happineſs was improved by age, which had rendered his paſſions more mode⯑rate, and his wiſhes more attainable.

[102] But he was far from ſuffering, even in ſolitude, his hours to glide away in torpid inactivity. That active reſt⯑leſs diſpoſition, ſtill continued to ac⯑tuate his purſuits; and having loſt the ſeaſon for gaining power over his co⯑temporaries, he was now reſolved upon acquiring fame from poſterity. He had not been long in his retreat near Fontainbleau, when he began a courſe of letters on the ſtudy and uſe of hiſ⯑tory, for the uſe of a young noble⯑man. In theſe he does not follow the methods of St. REAL, and others who have treated on this ſubject, who make hiſtory the great fountain of all knowledge; he very wiſely con⯑fines its benefits, and ſuppoſes them to conſiſt in deducing general maxims from particular facts, than in illuſtrat⯑ing maxims by the application of hiſto⯑rical paſſages. In mentioning eccleſiaſ⯑tical [103] hiſtory, he gives his opinion very freely, upon the ſubject of the divine original of the ſacred books, which he ſuppoſes to have no ſuch foundation. This new ſyſtem of thinking, which he had always propagated in conver⯑ſation, and which he now began to adopt in his more laboured compoſi⯑tions, ſeemed no way ſupported either by his acuteneſs or his learning. He began to reflect ſeriouſly on theſe ſub⯑jects too late in life, and to ſuppoſe thoſe objections very new and unan⯑ſwerable, which had been already confuted by thouſands. ‘"Lord BO⯑LINGBROKE, ſays POPE, in one of his letters, is above trifling; when he writes of any thing in this world, he is more than mortal. If ever he trifles, it muſt be when he turns divine."’

[104] In the mean time, as it was evi⯑dent, that a man of his active ambi⯑tion, in chuſing retirement when no longer able to lead in public, muſt be liable to ridicule in reſuming a re⯑ſigned philoſophical air: in order to obviate the cenſure, he addreſſed a letter to lord BATHURST, upon the true uſe of retirement and ſtudy; in which he ſhows himſelf ſtill able and willing to undertake the cauſe of his country, whenever its diſtreſſes ſhould require his exertion. I have, ſays he, renounced neither my country, nor my friends; and by friends I mean all thoſe, and thoſe alone, who are ſuch to their country. In their proſperity, they ſhall never hear of me; in their diſtreſs, always. In that retreat where⯑in the remainder of my days ſhall be ſpent, I may be of ſome uſe to them, ſince even from thence I may adviſe, [105] exhort, and warn them. Bent upon this purſuit only, and having now exchanged the gay ſtateſman for the grave philoſopher, he ſhone forth with diſtinguiſhed luſtre. His converſa⯑tion took a different turn from what had been uſual with him; and, as we are aſſured by lord ORRERY, who knew him, it united the wiſdom of SOCRA⯑TES, the dignity and eaſe of PLINY, and the wit of HORACE.

Yet ſtill amidſt his reſolutions to turn himſelf from politics, and to give himſelf up entirely to the calls of phi⯑loſophy, he could not reſiſt embark⯑ing once more in the debates of his country; and coming back from France, ſettled at Batterſea, an old ſeat which was his father's, and had been long in the poſſeſſion of the fa⯑mily. He ſuppoſed he ſaw an im⯑pending [106] calamity, and though it was not in his power to remove, he thought it his duty to retard its fall. To redeem or ſave the nation from perdition, he thought impoſſible, ſince national corruptions were to be purged by national calamities; but he was re⯑ſolved to lend his feeble aſſiſtance, to ſtem the torrent that was pouring in. With this ſpirit he wrote that excellent piece, which is intituled, The Idea of a Patriot King; in which he deſcribes a monarch uninfluenced by party, leaning to the ſuggeſtions neither of whigs nor tories, but equally the friend and the father of all. Some time af⯑ter, in the year 1749, after the con⯑cluſion of the peace, two years before the meaſures taken by the adminiſtra⯑tion, ſeemed not to have been repug⯑nant to his notions of political pru⯑dence for that juncture; in that year [107] he wrote his laſt production, contain⯑ing reflections on the then ſtate of the nation, principally with regard to her taxes and debts, and on the cauſes and conſequences of them. This under⯑taking was left unfiniſhed, for death ſnatched the pen from the hand of the writer.

Having paſſed the latter part of his life in dignity and ſplendor, his ra⯑tional faculties improved by reflection, and his ambition kept under by diſ⯑appointment, his whole aim ſeemed to have been to leave the ſtage of life, on which he had acted ſuch various parts, with applauſe. He had long wiſhed to fetch his laſt breath at Bat⯑terſea, the place where he was born; and fortune, that had through life ſeemed to traverſe all his aims, at laſt indulged him in this. He had long [108] been troubled with a cancer in his cheek, by which excruciating diſeaſe, he died on the verge of fourſcore years of age. He was conſonant with him⯑ſelf to the laſt, and thoſe principles which he had all along avowed, he confirmed with his dying breath, hav⯑ing given orders that none of the cler⯑gy ſhould be permitted to trouble him in his lateſt moments.

His body was interred in Batterſea church, with thoſe of his anceſtors; and a marble monument erected to his memory, with the following ex⯑cellent inſcription.

In this manner lived and died lord BOLINGBROKE; ever active, never de⯑preſſed, ever purſuing fortune, and as conſtantly diſappointed by her. In whatever light we view his character, we ſhall find him an object rather pro⯑perer [110] for our wonder, than our imi⯑tation; more to be feared than eſ⯑teemed, and gaining our admiration without our love. His ambition ever aimed at the ſummit of power, and nothing ſeemed capable of ſatisfying his immoderate deſires, but the liber⯑ty of governing all things without a rival. With as much ambition, as great abilities, and more acquired knowledge than CAESAR, he wanted only his courage to be as ſucceſsful; but the ſchemes his head dictated, his heart often refuſed to execute; and he loſt the ability to perform, juſt when the great occaſion called for all his efforts to engage.

The ſame ambition that prompted him to be a politician, actuated him as a philoſopher. His aims were equally great and extenſive in both [111] capacities: unwilling to ſubmit to any power in the one, or any autho⯑rity in the other, he entered the fields of ſcience, with a thorough contempt of all that had been eſta⯑bliſhed before him, and ſeemed will⯑ing to think every thing wrong, that he might ſhew his faculty in the re⯑formation. It might have been bet⯑ter for his quiet, as a man, if he had been content to act a ſubordinate character in the ſtate; and it had certainly been better for his memory as a writer, if he had aimed at doing leſs than he attempted. Wiſdom, in morals, like every other art or ſcience, is an accumulation that numbers have contributed to increaſe; and it is not for one ſingle man to pretend, that he can add more to the heap, than the thouſands that have gone before him. Such innovators more fre⯑quently [112] retard, than promote know⯑ledge; their maxims are more agree⯑able to the reader, by having the gloſs of novelty to recommend them, than thoſe which are trite, only be⯑cauſe they are true. Such men are therefore followed at firſt with avidity, nor is it till ſome time that their diſ⯑ciples begin to find their error. They often, though too late, perceive, that they have been following a ſpecula⯑tive enquiry, while they have been leaving a practical good; and while they have been practiſing the arts of doubting, they have been loſing all firmneſs of principle, which might tend to eſtabliſh the rectitude of their private conduct. As a moraliſt, therefore, lord BOLINGBROKE, by hav⯑ing endeavoured at too much, ſeems to have done nothing: but as a po⯑litical writer, few can equal, and [113] none can exceed him. As he was a practical politician, his writings are leſs filled with thoſe ſpeculative illu⯑ſions, which are the reſult of ſoli⯑tude and ſecluſion. He wrote them with a certainty of their being op⯑poſed, ſifted, examined, and reviled; he therefore took care to build them up of ſuch materials, as could not be eaſily overthrown: they prevailed at the times in which they were writ⯑ten, they ſtill continue to the admira⯑tion of the preſent age, and will probably laſt for ever.