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THE

LIFE OF HALIFAX.

BY DR. JOHNSON.

THE life of the earl of Halifax was properly that of an artful and active statesman, employed in balancing parties, contriving expedients, and combating opposition, and exposed to the vicissitudes of advancement and degradation; but, in this collection, poetical merit is the claim to attention: and the account which is here to be expected may properly be proportioned not to his influence in the state, but to his rank among the writers of verse.

CHARLES MONTAGUE was born April 16, 1661, at Horton in Northamptonshire, the son of Mr. George Montague, a younger son of the earl of Manchester. He was educated first in the country, and then removed to Westminster, where, in 1677, he was chosen a king's scholar, and recommended himself to Busby by his felicity in extemporary epigrams. He contracted a very intimate friendship with Mr. Stepney; and, in 1682, when Stepney was elected at Cambridge, the election of Montague being not to proceed till the year following, he was afraid lest by being placed at Oxford he might be separated from his companion, and therefore solicited to be removed to Cambridge, without waiting for the advantages of another year.

It seems indeed time to wish for a removal; for he was already a school-boy of one-and-twenty.

His relation, Dr. Montague, was then master of the college in which he was placed a fellow-commoner, and took him under his particular care. Here he commenced an acquaintance with the great Newton, which continued through his life, and was at last attested by a legacy.

In 1685, his verses on the death of king Charles made such an impression on the earl of Dorset, that he was invited to town, and introduced by that universal patron to the other wits. In 1687, he joined with Prior in The City Mouse and the Country Mouse, a burlesque of Dryden's Hind and Panther. He signed the invitation to the prince of Orange, and sat in the convention. He about the same time married the countess dowager of Manchester, and intended to have taken orders; but afterwards altering his purpose, he purchased for 1500l. the place of one of the clerks of the council,

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 meu 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.

LIFE OF HALIFAX.

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.

ON THE DEATH OF

HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY

KING CHARLES II.

A mighty series of new time began,

And rolling years in joyful circles ran.
Then wealth the city, business fill'd the port,
To mirth our tumults turn'd, our wars to sport:
Then learning flourish'd, blooming arts did spring,

FAREWEL, great Charles, monarch of blest And the glad Muses prun'd their drooping wing:

renown,

The best good man that ever fill'd a throne;
Whom Nature as her highest pattern wrought,
And mix'd both sexes' virtues' in a draught;
Wisdom for councils, bravery in war,
With all the mild good-nature of the fair.
The woman's sweetness temper'd manly wit,
And loving pow'r did, crown'd with meekness, sit;
His awful person reverence engag'd,
With mild address and tenderness assuag'd:
Thus the almighty gracious King above,
Does both command our fear, and win our love.
With wonders born, by miracles preserv'd,
A heavenly host the infant's cradle serv'd:
And men his healing empire's omen read,
When Sun with stars, and day with night agreed.
His youth for valorous patience was renown'd;
Like David, persecuted first, then crown'd:
Lov'd in all courts, admir'd where'er he came,
At once our nation's glory, and its shame:
They blest the isle where such great spirits dwell,
Abhorr'd the men, that could such worth expel.
To spare our lives, he meekly did defeat
Those Sauls, whom wand'ring asses made so great;
Waiting till Heaven's election should be shown,
And the Almighty should his unction own.
And own he did—his powerful arm display'd;
And Israel, the belov'd of God, obey'd;
Call'd by his people's tears, he came, he eas'd
The groaning nation, the black storms appeas'd,
Did greater blessings, than he took, afford;
England itself was more, than he, restor'd.
Unhappy Albion, by strange ills oppress'd,
In various fevers tost, could find no rest;
Quite spent and weary'd, to his arms she fled,
And rested on his shoulders her fair bending head.
In conquests mild, he came from exile kind;
No climes, no provocations, chang'd his mind;
No malice show'd, no hate, revenge, or pride,
But rul'd as meekly, as his father dy'd;
Eas'd us from endless wars, made discords cease,
Restor'd to quiet, and maintain'd in peace.

Then did our flying towers improvement know,
Who now command as far as winds can blow;
With canvass wings round all the globe they fly,
And, built by Charles's art, all storms defy;
To every coast with ready sails are hurl'd,
Fill us with wealth, and with our fame the world;
From whose distractions seas do us divide;
Their riches here in floating castles ride.
We reap the swarthy Indians' sweat and toil;
Their fruit, without the mischiefs of their soil.
Here, in cool shades, their gold and pearls re-
ceive,

Free from the heat which does their lustre give.
In Persian silks, eat eastern spice; secure
From burning fluxes, and the calenture:
Under our vines, upon the peaceful shore,
We see all Europe tost, hear tempests roar:
Rapine, sword, wars, and famine, rage abroad,
While Charles their host, like Jove from Ida,
aw'd;

Us from our foes, and from ourselves did shield,
Our towns from tumults, and from arms the field;
For when bold Faction goodness could disdain,
Unwillingly he us'd a straiter rein:

In the still gentle voice he lov'd to speak,
But could, with thunder, harden'd rebels break.
Yet, though they wak'd the laws, his tender mind
Was undisturb'd, in wrath severely kind;
Tempting his power, and urging to assume;
Thus Jove, in love, did Semele consume.

As the stout oak, when round his trunk the vine
Does in soft wreaths and amorous foldings twine,
Easy and slight appears; the winds from far
Summon their noisy forces to the war:
But though so gentle seems his outward form,
His hidden strength out-braves the loudest storm:
Firmer he stands, and boldly keeps the field,
Showing stout minds, when unprovok'd, are mild.
So when the good man made the crowd presume,
He show'd himself, and did the king assume:
For goodness in excess may be a sin;
Justice must tame, whom mercy cannot win.

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