After he had written his epistle on the victory of the Boyne, his patron, Dorset, introduced him to king William, with this expression: "Sir, I have brought a mouse to wait on your majesty.” To which the king is said to have replied, “You do well to put me in the way of making a man of him ;" and ordered him a pension of five hundred pounds. This story, however current, seems to have been made after the event. The king's answer implies a greater acquaintance with our proverbial and familiar diction than king William could possibly have attained. In 1691, being member of the house of commons, he argued warmly in favour of a law to grant the assistance of counsel in trials for high treason; and, in the midst of his speech falling into some confusion, was for a while silent; but, recovering himself, observed, "how reasonable it was to allow counsel to men called as criminals before a court of justice, when it appeared how much the presence of that assembly could disconcert one of their own body'." After this he rose fast into honours and employments, being made one of the commissioners of the treasury, and called to the privy-council. In 1694, he became chancellor of the exchequer; and the next year engaged in the great attempt of the re-coinage, which was in two years happily completed. In 1696, he projected the general fund, and raised the credit of the exchequer; and, after inquiring concerning a grant of Irish crown-lands, it was determined by a vote of the commons, that Charles Montague, esquire, had deserved his majesty's favour. In 1698, being advanced to the first commission of the treasury, he was appointed one of the regency in the king's absence: the next year he was made auditor of the exchequer, and the year after created baron Halifax. He was, however, impeached by the commons; but the articles were dismissed by the lords. At the accession of queen Anne he was dismissed from the council: and in the first parliament of her reign was again attacked by the commons, and again escaped by the protection of the lords. In 1704, he wrote an answer to Bromley's speech against occasional conformity. He headed the inquiry into the danger of the church. In 1706, he proposed and negotiated the union with Scotland; and when the elector of Hanover had received the garter, after the act had passed for securing the protestant succession, he was appointed to carry the ensigns of the order to the electoral court. He sat as one of the judges of Sacheverell; but voted for a mild sentence. Being now no longer in favour, he contrived to obtain a writ for summoning the electoral prince to parliament as duke of Cambridge. At the queen's death he was appointed one of the regents; and at the accession of George the First was made earl of Halifax, knight of the garter, and first commissioner of the treasury, with a grant to his nephew of the reversion of the auditorship of the exchequer. More was not to be had, and this he kept but a little while; for, on the 19th of May, 1715, he died of an inflammation of his lungs. Of him, who from a poet became a patron of poets, it will be readily believed that the Mr. Reed observes that this anecdote is related by Mr. Walpole, in his Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, of the earl of Shaftesbury, author of the Characteristics, but it appears to me to be a mistake, if we are to understand that the words were spoken by Shaftesbury at this time, when he had no seat in the house of commons; nor did the bill pass at this time, being thrown out by the house of lords. It became a law in the 7th William, when Halifax and Shaftesbury both had seats. The editors of the Biographia Britannica adopt Mr. Walpole's story, but they are not speaking of this period. The story first appeared in the Life of Lord Halifax, published in 1715. C. works would not miss of celebration. Addison began to praise him early, and was followed or accompanied by other poets; perhaps by almost all, except Swift and Pope, who forebore to flatter him in his life, and after his death spoke of him, Swift with slight censure, and Pope in the character of Bufo with acrimonious contempt. He was, as Pope says, "fed with dedications;" for Tickell affirms, that no dedication was unrewarded. To charge all unmerited praise with the guilt of flattery, and to suppose that the encomiast always knows and feels the falsehoods of his assertions, is surely to discover great ignorance of human nature and human life. In determinations depending not on rules, but on experience and comparison, judgement is always in some degree subject to affection. Very near to admiration is the wish to admire. Every man willingly gives value to the praise which he receives, and considers the sentence passed in his favour as the sentence of discernment. We admire in a friend that understanding which selected us for confidence; we admire more, in a patron, that judgement, which, instead of scattering bounty indiscriminately, directed it to us; and, if the patron be an author, those performances which gratitude forbids us to blame, affection will easily dispose us to exalt. To these prejudices, hardly culpable, interest adds a power always operating, though not always, because not willingly, perceived. The modesty of praise wears gradually away; and perhaps the pride of patronage may be in time so increased, that modest praise will no longer please. Many a blandishment was practised upon Halifax, which he would never have known, had he no other attractions than those of his poetry, of which a short time has withered the beauties. It would now be esteemed no honour, by a contributor to the monthly bundles of verses, to be told, that, in strains either familiar or solemn, he sings like Montague. POEMS OF THE EARL OF HALIFAX. The best good man that ever fill'd a throne; Those Sauls, whom wand'ring asses made so great; A mighty series of new time began, Free from the heat which does their lustre give. Us from our foes, and from ourselves did shield, In the still gentle voice he lov'd to speak, As the stout oak, when round his trunk the vine Thus winter fixes the unstable sea, Such is thy glory, Charles, thy lasting name, Brighter than our proud neighbour's guilty fame; More noble than the spoils that battles yield, Tis less to conquer, than to make war cease, Won ensigns are the gaudy marks of scorn, none Dispute, all love, bless, reverence their throne. But the sweet passions of a generous mind pride, Oh! had he more resembled it! Oh, why Yet fields rejoice, his meadows laugh around; The ploughman's hopes, and life into the deep; ODE ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE PRINCESS ANNE AND PRINCE GEORGE OF DENMARK. WHILST black designs (that direful work of Fate) Here is no harmful weapon found, [wound. Nothing but Cupid's darts and Beauty here can How grateful does this scene appear To us, who might too justly fear We never should have seen again Aught bright, but armour on the plain! Ne'er in their cheerful garb t'have seen the fair, While all, with melting eyes and wild dishevell'd [slain. Had mourn'd their brothers, sons, and husbands, These dusky shadows make this scene more bright; hair, The horrour adds to the delight. This glorious pomp our spirits cheers; from hence We lucky omens take, new happiness commence. Thus, when the gathering clouds a storm prepare, And their black force associate in the air; (Endeavouring to eclipse the bounteous light, Who, with kind warmth, and powerful rays, Them to that envy'd height, From their mean native earth, did raise) A thoughtful sadness sits on all, Expecting where the full-charg'd clouds will fall: But if the heavenly bow [rays, Deck'd, like a gaudy bride, appears, And all her various robes displays, Painted by the conquering Sun's triumphant It mortals drooping spirits cheers; Fresh joy, new light, each visage wears: Again the seamen trust the main, The jocund swains their coverts leave again; Again, in pleasant warbling notes, [ful throats. The cheerful poets of the wood extend their tune Then, then, my Muse, raise with thy lyre thy voice, Whatever then was his desire, |