notice of a very remarkable circumstance, namely, that this very day of battle was the day appointed in his own kingdom to offer up public devotions for the prosperity of his arms, and therefore bid them not doubt of victory, since at the same time that they were fighting in the field, all the people of England were lifting up their hands to heaven for their success. Upon the close of that memorable day, in which the king had performed wonders with his own hand, he ordered the hundred and fifteenth psalm to be repeated in the midst of his victorious army, and at the words, 'Not unto us, not unto us, but unto Thy name be the praise,' he himself, with his whole host, fell to the earth upon their faces, ascribing to Omnipotence the whole glory of so great an action.-Freeholder, No. 49.

XXVIII.

HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE.

1678-1751.

HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE, is best known as a Tory politician, of great fame for oratory, and as the friend of Pope, who dedicated to him the 'Essay on Man,' and to whom he in turn addressed his Philosophical Essays. He represented an ancient family, of which Oliver St. John, the great Republican lawyer, was a cadet, and was born and died in the family house at Battersea. His primary interest was not in literature, but in politics. He entered Parliament in 1700, and attached himself to the Tories from the first. From 1710 to the death of Anne he was Secretary of State, and in alliance with Harley, Earl of Oxford, whom he hated, governed England. He was the real author of the desertion by England of her allies in the war of succession which led to the Peace of Utrecht. On the establishment of George I, having notoriously intrigued with the Pretender, he withdrew to Paris. In his absence, he was, at Walpole's instance, attainted for high treason, and his name erased from the Peerage. Finding himself contemptuously discarded by the Pretender, he spent many years in retirement in France, during which he wrote his 'Reflections on Exile,' and the 'Letter to Sir W. Windham.' He came back to England in 1725, upon a pardon from the King, but never got his attainder reversed, and in consequence could not sit in the House of Lords. In England, he employed himself in writing vehement papers against Walpole, and also in the composition of his 'Remarks on the History of England,' till 1735, when he again withdrew to France. There he wrote his letters on 'the Spirit of Patriotism,' 'the Idea of a Patriot King' (designed to influence Frederick,

Prince of Wales), and 'the Study and Use of History.' On the death of his father in 1744, he returned to England, and lived at Battersea till his death. His philosophical works, consisting of Essays and Minutes of Essays, were not published till after his death.

His style is a model for popular writing on topics of the day. It never rises to great heights, but is always clear, vigorous and sustained. On philosophical subjects, however, a flowing style could not conceal the poverty of his thoughts. His equipment consisted of a theory of knowledge taken simply from Locke, and a doctrine of the comparative insignificance of man's place in nature suggested by the Newtonian Physics. With this he waged war against 'Metaphysical jargon' (which included all Theology), and in particular against theories which 'made God man's image, man the final cause.' In effect, he denied the moral government of the world, and may therefore be more justly charged with 'infidelity' than some others against whom the charge is brought. His great adversaries were Cudworth, Archbishop King, Clarke, and Wollaston. An argument of the last of these for a future life, drawn from the unequal allotment of happiness and misery in this, is referred to in one of the following extracts.

1. Harley, Earl of Oxford.

INSTEAD of gathering strength, either as a ministry or as a party, we grew weaker every day. The peace had been judged with reason to be the only solid foundation whereupon we could erect a tory system: and yet when it was made we found ourselves at a full stand. Nay the very work, which ought to have been the basis of our strength, was in part demolished before our eyes, and we were stoned with the ruins of it. Whilst this was doing, Oxford looked on, as if he had not been a party to all which had passed; broke now and then a jest, which savoured of the inns of

court and the bad company in which he had been bred: and on those occasions, where his station obliged him to speak of business, was absolutely unintelligible.

1

Whether this man ever had any determined view besides that of raising his family is, I believe, a problematical question in the world. My opinion is, that he never had any other. The conduct of a minister, who proposes to himself a great and noble object, and who pursues it steadily, may seem for a while a riddle to the world; especially in a government like ours, where numbers of men different in their characters and different in their interests are at all times to be managed: where public affairs are exposed to more accidents and greater hazards than in other countries; and where, by consequence, he who is at the head of business will find himself often distracted by measures which have no relation to his purpose, and obliged to bend himself to things which are in some degree contrary to his main design. The ocean which environs us is an emblem of our government: and the pilot and the minister are in similar circumstances. It seldom happens, that either of them can steer a direct course, and they both arrive at their port by means which frequently seem to carry them from it. But as the work advances, the conduct of him who leads it on with real abilities clears up, the appearing inconsistencies are reconciled, and when it is once consummated, the whole shows itself so uniform, so plain, and so natural, that every dabbler in politics will be apt to think he could have done the same. But on the other hand, a man who proposes no such object, who substitutes artifice in the place of ability, who, instead of leading parties and governing accidents, is eternally agitated backwards and forwards by both, who begins every day something new, and carries nothing on to perfection, may impose a while on the world but a little sooner or a little later the mystery will be

revealed, and nothing will be found to be couched under it but a thread of pitiful expedients, the ultimate end of which never extended farther than living from day to day. Which of these pictures resembles Oxford most, you will determine. I am sorry to be obliged to name him so often; but how is it possible to do otherwise, while I am speaking of times wherein the whole turn of affairs depended on his motions and character?

I have heard, and I believe truly, that when he returned to Windsor in the autumn of 1713, after the marriage of his son, he pressed extremely to have him created duke of Newcastle or earl of Clare: and the queen presuming to hesitate on so extraordinary a proposal, he resented this hesitation in a manner which little became a man who had been so lately raised by the profusion of her favours upon him. Certain it is, that he began then to shew a still greater remissness in all parts of his ministry, and to affect to say, that from such a time, the very time I am speaking of, he took no share in the direction of affairs, or words to that effect.

He pretended to have discovered intrigues which were set on foot against him, and particularly he complained of the advantage which was taken of his absence, during the journey he made at his son's marriage, to undermine him with the queen. He is naturally inclined to believe the worst, which I take to be a certain mark of a mean spirit and a wicked soul: at least I am sure that the contrary quality, when it is not due to weakness of understanding, is the fruit of a generous temper, and an honest heart. Prone to judge ill of all mankind, he will rarely be seduced by his credulity; but I never knew a man so capable of being the bubble of his distrust and jealousy. He was so in this case, although the queen, who could not be ignorant of the truth, said enough to undeceive