being again received by them. His only chance, therefore, was in the restoration of the Tories, and his only policy to keep well with both their great leaders.

Mr. Scott, indeed, chuses to represent him as actuated by a romantic attachment to Lord Oxford, and pronounces an eloquent encomium on his devoted generosity for applying for leave of absence, upon that Nobleman's disgrace, in order to be able to visit him in his retirement. Though he talks of such a visit, however, it is certain that he did not pay it; and that he was all the time engaged in the most friendly correspondence with Bolingbroke, from whom, the very day after he had kicked out his dear friend with the most undisguised anger and contempt, he condescended to receive an order for the thousand pounds he had so long solicited from his predecessor in vain. The following, too, are the terms in which Bolingbroke, at that very time, thought there was no impropriety, and could be no offence, in writing of Oxford, in a private confidential letter to this his dear devoted friend. Your state of late passages is right enough. I reflect upon them with indignation; and shall never forgive myself for having trusted so long to so much real pride and awkward humility;-to an air of such familiar friendship, and a heart so void of all tenderness;-to such a temper of engrossing business and power, and so perfect an incapacity to manage one, with such a tyrannical disposition to abuse the other," etc. etc. (Vol. xvi, p. 219.) If Swift's feelings for Oxford had borne any resemblance to those which Mr. Scott has imputed to him, it is not conceivable that he should have continued upon a footing of the greatest cordiality with the man who, after supplanting him, could speak in those terms of his fallen rival. Yet Swift's friendship, as they called it, with Bolingbroke, continued as long as that with Oxford; and we find him not only giving him his advice how to act in the government which had now fallen entirely into his hands, but kindly offering, "if his own services may be of any use, to attend him by the beginning of winter." (Id. p. 215.) Those who know of what stuff political friendships are generally made, indeed, will not require even this evidence to prove the hollowness of those in which Swift was now connected. The following passage, in a letter from Lewis, the most intimate and confidential of all his coadjutors, dated only a week or two before Oxford's disgrace, gives a delicious picture, we think, of the whole of those persons for whom the learned Dean was thus professing the most disinterested attachment, and receiving, no doubt, in return, professions not less animated and sincere. It is addressed to Swift in July, 1714.

"I meet with no man or woman, who pretend upon any probable grounds to judge who will carry the great point. Our female friend (Mrs. Masham) told the dragon (Lord Oxford) in her own house, last Thursday morning, these words: 'You never did the Queen any service, nor are you capable of doing her any.' He made no reply, but supped with her and Mercurialis (Bolingbroke) that night at her own house.-is revenge is not the less meditated for that. He tells the words clearly and distinctly to all mankind. Those who range under his banner, call her ten thousand bitches and kitchen wenches. Those who hate him do the same. And from my heart, I grieve that she should give such a loose to her passion; for she is susceptible of true friendship, and has many social and domestic virtues. The great attorney (Lord Chancellor Harcourt), who made you the sham offer of the Yorkshire living, had a long conference with the

dragon on Thursday, kissed him at parting, and cursed him at night!" Vol. xvi. p. 173, 174.

The death of Queen Anne, however, which happened on the 1st of August thereafter, speedily composed all those dissensions, and confounded the victors and the vanquished in one common proscription. Among the most miserable and downcast of all the mourners on that occasion, we confess we were somewhat surprised to find our reverend author. He who, but a few months before, was willing to have hazarded all the horrors of a civil war, for the chance of keeping his party in office, sunk instantly into pitiable and unmanly despondency upon the final disgrace of that party. We are unwilling to believe, and we do not in fact believe, that Swift was privy to the designs of Bolingbroke, Ormond, and Mar, to bring in the Pretender on the Queen's demise, and are even disposed to hold it doubtful whether Oxford concurred in those measures; but we are sure that no man of common firmness could have felt more sorrow and despair, if the country had been conquered by a lawless invader, than this friend of the Act of Settlement did upon the quiet and regular transmission of the sceptre to the appointed heir, and the discomfiture of those ministers who are proved to have traitorously conspired to accomplish a counter revolution, and restore a dynasty which he always affected to consider as justly rejected. How all this sorrow is to be reconciled to the character of a good Revolution Whig, we leave it to the learned editor, who has invested him with that character, to discover. To us it merely affords new evidence of the selfishness and ambition of the individual, and of that utter and almost avowed disregard of the public, which constituted his political character. Of the sorrow and despondency itself, we need produce no proofs, for they are to be found in every page of his subsequent writings. His whole life, indeed, after this event, was one long fit of spleen and lamentation, and, to the very end of his days, he never ceases bewailing the irreparable and grievous calamity which the world had suffered in the death of that most imbecile princess. He speaks of it, in short, throughout, as a pious divine might be supposed to speak of the fall of primeval man from the state of innocence. The sun seems darkened for ever in his eyes, and mankind to be degenerated beyond the toleration of one who was cursed with the remembrance of their former dignity! And all this for what?—because the government was, with the full assent of the nation, restored to the hands of those whose talents and integrity he had once been proud to celebrate-or rather, because it was taken from those who would have attempted, at the evident risk of a civil war, to defeat that solemn settlement of which he had always approved, and in virtue of which alone the late Sovereign had succeeded;-because the liberties of the nation were again to be secured in peace, under the same councils which had carried its glories so high in war-and the true friends of the Revolution of 1688 to succeed to that patronage which had previously been exercised by its virtual enemies! Such were the public calamities which he had to lament as a patriot;-and the violence done to his political attachments seems to have been of the same character. His two friends were Bolingbroke and Oxford: and both these had been abusing each other, and endeavouring to supplant each other, with all their might, for a long period of time;-and, at last, one of them did this good office to the other, in the most insulting and malignant manner he could devise: And yet the worthy Dean had charity enough to love them both just as dearly as ever. He was always a zealous

advocate, too, for the Act of Settlement; and has in twenty places expressed his abomination of all who could allow themselves to think of the guilt of calling in the Pretender. If, therefore, he could love and honour and flatter Bolingbroke, who not only turned out his beloved Oxford, but actually went over to the Pretender, it is not easy to see why he should have been so implacable towards those older friends of his, who only turned out Bolingbroke, in order to prevent the Pretender from being brought in. On public grounds, in short, there is nothing to be said for him;nor can his conduct or feelings ever receive any explanation upon such principles. But every thing becomes plain and consistent when we look to another quarter-when we consider, that by the extinction of the Tory party, his hopes of preferment were also extinguished, and that he was no longer to enjoy the dearer delight of bustling in the front of a triumphant party-of inhaling the incense of adulation from its servile dependants-and of insulting with impunity the principles and the benefactors he had himself deserted.

That this was the true key to his feelings, on this and on every other occasion, may be concluded indeed with safety, not only from his former, but from his after life. His Irish politics may all be referred to one principle-a desire to insult and embarrass the government by which he was neglected, and with which he despaired of being reconciled:-A single fact is decisive upon this point. While his friends were in power, we hear nothing of the grievances of Ireland; and to the last we hear nothing of its radical grievance, the oppression of its Catholic population. His object was, not to do good to Ireland, but to vex and annoy the English ministry. To do this however with effect, it was necessary that he should speak to the interests and the feelings of some party who possessed a certain degree of power and influence. This unfortunately was not the case in that day with the Catholics; and though this gave them only a stronger title to the services of a truly brave or generous advocate, it was sufficient to silence Swift. They are not so much as named above two or three times in his writings-and then only with scorn, and reprobation. In the topics which he does take up, it is no doubt true, that he frequently inveighs against real oppressions and acts of indisputable impolicy; yet it is no want of charity to say, that it is quite manifest that this was not his motive for bringing them forward, and that he had just as little scruple to make an outcry, where no public interest was concerned, as where it was apparent. It was sufficient for him, that the subject was likely to excite popular prejudice and clamour, or that he had some personal pique or animosity to gratify. The Drapier's Letters are a sufficient proof of the influence of the former principle; and the Legion Club, and the numberless brutalities against Tighe and Bettesworth, of the latter. Every body is now satisfied of the perfect harmlessness, and indeed of the great utility of Wood's scheme for a new copper coinage; and the only pretexts for the other scurrilities to which we have alluded were, that the Parliament had shown a disposition to interfere for the alleviation, in some inconsiderable particulars, of the intolerable oppression of the tithe system, to the detriment, as Swift imagined, of the order to which he himself belonged; and that Mr. Tighe had obtained for a friend of his own, a living which Swift had wished to secure for one of his dependants.

His main object in all this, we make no doubt, was personal pique and vengeance; yet it is probable, that there was occasionally, or throughout, an expectation of being again brought into the paths of power and prefer

ment, by the notoriety which these publications enabled him to maintain, and by the motives which they held out to each successive ministry, to secure so efficient a pen in their favour. That he was willing to have made his peace with Walpole, even during the reign of George I., is admitted by Mr. Scott, though he discredits the details which Lord Chesterfield and others have given, apparently from very direct authority, of the humiliating terms upon which he was willing to accede to the alliance and it is certain, that he paid his court most assiduously to the successor of that Prince, both while he was Prince of Wales, and after his accession to the throne. The manner in which he paid his court, too, was truly debasing, and especially unworthy of a High-Churchman and a public satirist. It was chiefly by flatteries and assiduity to his mistress, Mrs. Howard, with whom he maintained a close correspondence, and upon whom he always professed mainly to rely for advancement. When George I. died, Swift was among the first to kiss the hands of the new Sovereign, and indulged anew in the golden dreams of preferment. Walpole's recall to power, however, soon overcast those visions; and he then wrote to the mistress, humbly and earnestly entreating her, to tell him sincerely what were his chances of success. She flattered him for a while with hopes; but at last he discovered that the prejudice against him was too strong to be overcome, and ran back in terrible humour to Ireland, where he railed ever after with his usual vehemence against the King, the Queen, and the favourite. The truth, it seems, was, that the latter was disposed to favour him, but that her influence with the King was subordinate to that of the Queen, who made it a principle to thwart all applications which were made through that channel.

Such, we think, is a faithful sketch of the political career of this celebrated person;-and if it be correct in the main, or even in any material particulars, we humbly conceive that a more unprincipled and base course of proceeding never was held up to the contempt and abhorrence of mankind. To the errors and even the inconsistencies of honest minds, we hope we shall always be sufficiently indulgent, and especially to such errors in practical life as are incident to literary and ingenious men. For Swift, however, there is no such apology. His profession, through life, was much more that of a politician than of a clergyman or an author. He was not led away in any degree by heated fancy, or partial affection-by deluding visions of impossible improvements, or excessive indignation at incurable vices. He followed, from first to last, the eager, but steady impulse of personal ambition and personal animosity; and in the dirty and devious career into which they impelled him, he never spared the character or the feelings of a single individual who appeared to stand in his way. In no respect, therefore, can he have any claim to lenity ;-and now, when his faults are of importance only as they may serve the purpose of warning or misleading to others, we consider it as our indispensable duty to point them out in their true colours, and to show that, even when united to talents as distinguished as his, political profligacy and political rancour must lead to universal distrust and avoidance during the life of the individual, and to contempt and infamy thereafter.*

The Reviewer proceeds to delineate Swift's private character, supporting his opiniors by quotations from the Dean's letters. This part of the Criticism, though exceedingly interest uz. I have omitted, in consequence of its extreme length. See pages of the E. Review, No. 53, from 26 to 44.

PITT.*

We are not sufficiently removed by time from the extraordinary person whose life forms the subject of this work, to attempt an estimate of his merits with any great confidence in its impartiality. The scenes in which he acted so conspicuous a part are indeed fast vanishing from the view,-thrown by others into the shade, rather than obscured by distance but many still remain who profess to be his successors, and who were, in some respects, his associates, though in very humble characters. Their claims to notice, they are well aware, rest entirely on their connexion with him; and they have accordingly used his name as a rallying point to collect men who have no principles in common, nor any bond of union-except inherent similarity of pursuit, and the accidental circumstance of having once served together under him. It becomes difficult, therefore, to speak of Mr. Pitt without a reference to the policy and the politicians of the present day; and, even if we shall succeed in estimating his claims to the gratitude of the country with perfect freedom from any bias, it is very certain that no party will give us credit for such impartiality. The circumstances which make it so hard for the writer to be unprejudiced, render it quite impossible that he should find a generation of candid readers; and he is far more likely to displease all classes, that to satisfy any. With this deep sense of the difficulties of the task we have undertaken, we should probably have been tempted to abandon it as hopeless, were there not some encouragement in the reflection, that aftertimes may be aided in forming their more calm judgment, even by the conflict of opposite doctrines in the present day; when, if placed too near the subject for correctness of opinions, we are certainly better situated for accurate knowledge of the facts.

In entering upon this most debatable subject, we are naturally anxious to find, if possible, some point from which debate may be excluded-some axiom-or at least some scarcely deniable postulate on which to build our conclusions and this, it appears, will be found, if at all, rather in contrasting Mr. Pitt's different merits with each other, than in comparing him with his rivals or his predecessors. Thus it is undeniable, we think, that he was far more excellent as a Debater than as a Statesman. Whether or not he had superiors in eloquence among his contemporaries; how far he fell short of the exquisite models of ancient oratory; what portion of his rhetorical fame he owed to the accidental circumstance of Place, or the hardly less trivial merit of voice; in what proportions a careful analysis would lead us to distribute our admiration between the Parliamentary tactician and the Orator; and whether we are entitled to extol his genius or only his abilities in this kind—are questions that may divide men's opinions; as they will also be inclined to dispute upon the skill, the integrity, and the tendency of his measures. But we believe it may with all safety be affirmed, that, even in the present times, no difference of opinion worth mentioning prevails respecting the vast superiority of the Speaker to the Minister. Hardly any two rational men could be found to dispute what was Mr. Pitt's distinguishing excellence-his forte. Upon this, friend and foe will at once join and point to him in his place as a first-rate Parliamentary leader and probably, taking all the qualities together that go to

. Tomline's Life of William Pitt.-Vol. xxxy. page 437. July, 1821.