But, perhaps, of all the members of the church, Caroline felt regard for none more than for Berkeley. He had been an active divine long, indeed, before the Queen visited him with her favour. His progress had been checked by his sermons in favour of passive obedience and non-resistance--sermons which were considered not so much inculcating loyalty to Brunswick as denouncing the revolution which opened to that house the way to the throne. Berkeley had also incurred no little public wrath by destroying the letters which Swift’s Vanessa had bequeathed to his care, with a sum of money for the express purpose of their being published. But, on the other hand, he had manifested in various ways the true spirit of a Christian and a philosopher, and had earned immortal honour by his noble attempt to convert the American savages to Christianity. But it was his ‘Minute Philosopher’--his celebrated work, the object of which was to refute scepticism, that gained for him the distinction of the approval of Caroline. The expression of such approval is warrant for the Queen’s sincerity in the cause of true religion. So delighted was the Queen with this work, that she procured for its author his nomination to the Bishopric of Cloyne. Never was reward more nobly earned, more worthily bestowed, or more gracefully conferred. It did honour alike to the Queen and to Berkeley; and it raised the hopes of those who were ready to almost despair of Christianity itself, when they saw that Religion yet had its great champions to uphold her cause, and that, however indifferent the King might be to the merits of such champions, the Queen herself was ever eager to acknowledge their services and to recompense them largely as they merited. In controversial works, however, Caroline always delighted. She had no greater joy in this way than setting Clarke and Leibnitz at intellectual struggle, watching the turns of the contest with interest, suggesting, amending, adding, or diminishing, and advising every well-laid blow, by whichever antagonist it was delivered. It may be asked, Was there not in all this rather more love of intellectual than of religious pursuits? The reader must judge. Caroline loved the broad English comedy of her time, and saw no harm in the very broadest. She was especially fond of the ‘Queen of Comedy,’ Mrs. Oldfield, but affected to be a little shocked at the way in which she was living with General Churchill. One day, when Mrs. Oldfield had been reading at Windsor, and was walking on the terrace with the court, the Queen said to her, ‘I hear, Mrs. Oldfield, that you and the General are married.’ ‘Madam,’ answered the actress, playing her very best, ‘the General keeps his own secrets.’ After Mrs. Oldfield’s death, the Queen bought her collection of plays for a hundred and twenty guineas.