V.
The fame of friendship which so long had told Of three or four illustrious names of old, 'Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew, Rejoices now t'have got a new, A new, and more surprizing story, Of fair Leucasia's and Orinda's glory. As when a prudent man does once perceive That in some foreign country he must live, The language and the manners he does strive To understand and practise here, That he may come no stranger there; So well Orinda did her self prepare, In this much different clime for her remove, To the glad world of poetry and love.
Footnote: 1. Ballard's Memoirs.
* * * * *
MARGARET, Duchess of NEWCASTLE,
The second wife of William Cavendish, duke of Newcastle, was born at St. John's near Colchester in Essex, about the latter end of the reign of King James I. and was the youngest daughter of Sir Charles Lucas, a gentleman of great spirit and fortune, who died when she was very young. The duchess herself in a book intitled Nature's Pictures, drawn by Fancy's pencil to the life, has celebrated both the exquisite beauty of her person, and the rare endowments of her mind. This lady's mother was remarkably assiduous in the education of her children, and bestowed upon this, all the instructions necessary for forming the minds of young ladies, and introducing them into life with advantage. She found her trouble in cultivating this daughter's mind not in vain, for she discovered early an inclination to learning, and spent so much of her time in study and writing, that some of her Biographers have lamented her not being acquainted with the learned languages, which would have extended her knowledge, corrected the exuberances of genius, and have been of infinite service to her, in her numerous compositions.
In the year 1643 she obtained leave of her mother to go to Oxford, where the court then resided, and was made one of the Maids of Honour to Henrietta Maria, the Royal Consort of King Charles I. and when the Queen was forced to leave the arms of her Husband, and fly into France, by the violence of the prevailing power, this lady attended her there. At Paris she met with the marquis of Newcastle, whose loyalty had likewise produced his exile; who, admiring her person and genius, married her in the year 1645. The marquis had before heard of this lady, for he was a patron and friend of her gallant brother, lord Lucas, who commanded under him in the civil wars. He took occasion one day to ask his lordship what he could do for him, as he had his interest much at heart? to which he answered, that he was not sollicitous about his own affairs, for he knew the worst could be but suffering either death, or exile in the Royal cause, but his chief sollicitude was for his sister, on whom he could bestow no fortune, and whose beauty exposed her to danger: he represented her amiable qualities, and raised the marquis's curiosity to see her, and from that circumstance arose the marquis's affection to this lady. From Paris they went to Rotterdam, where they resided six months: from thence they returned to Antwerp, where they settled, and continued during the time of their exile, as it was the most quiet place, and where they could in the greatest peace enjoy their ruined fortune. She proved a most agreeable companion to the marquis, during the gloomy period of exile, and enlivened their recess, both by her writing and conversation, as appears by the many compliments and addresses he made her on that occasion.
The lady undertook a voyage into England, in order to obtain some of the marquis's rents, to supply their pressing necessities, and pay the debts they had been there obliged to contract; and accordingly went with her brother to Goldsmith's Hall, where, it seems, the committee of sequestration sat, but could not obtain the smallest sum out of the marquis's vast inheritance, which, amounted to 20,000 l. per annum; and had it not been for the generosity and tenderness of Sir Charles Cavendish (who greatly reduced his own fortune, to support his brother in distress) they must have been exposed to extreme poverty.
Having raised a considerable sum, by the generosity of her own, and the marquis's, relations, she returned to Antwerp, where she continued with her lord, till the restoration of Charles II, upon which, the marquis, after six years banishment, made immediate preparation for his return to his native country, leaving his lady behind him to dispatch his affairs there, who, having conducted them to his lordship's satisfaction, she soon followed her consort into England. Being now restored to the sunshine of prosperity, she dedicated her time to writing poems, philosophical discourses, orations and plays. She was of a generous turn of mind, and kept a great many young ladies about her person, who occasionally wrote what she dictated. Some of them slept in a room, contiguous to that in which her Grace lay, and were ready, at the call of her bell, to rise any hour of the night, to write down her conceptions, lest they should escape her memory.
The young ladies, no doubt, often dreaded her Grace's conceptions, which were frequent, but all of the poetical or philosophical kind, for though she was very beautiful, she died without issue: she is said to have been very reserved and peevish, perhaps owing to the circumstance just mentioned, of having never been honoured with the name of mother.
Mr. Jacob says, that she was the most voluminous writer of all the female poets; that she had a great deal of wit, and a more than ordinary propensity to dramatic poetry; and Mr. Langbaine tells us, that all the language and plots of her plays were her own, which, says he, is a commendation preferable to fame built on other people's foundation, and will very well atone for some faults in her numerous productions. As the Duchess is said to be negligent, in regard to chronology in her historical writings, so others have been equally remiss, in this respect, with regard to her Grace, for, among the many authors who have taken notice of her, not one has mentioned the year in which she died, and even her monumental inscription, where one might reasonably expect it, is silent, both in respect to her age, and the time of her death. But Mr. Fulman, in the 15th volume of his MS. collections in the Corpus Christi College Archives, observes, that she died in London Anno 1673, and was buried at Westminster, January 7, 1673-4, where an elegant monument is erected to her memory, of which, take the following account given by Dr. Crul in the Antiquities of that Church. 'Against the skreen of the chapel of St. Michael, is a most noble spacious tomb of white marble, adorned with two pillars of black marble, with entablatures of the Corinthian order, embellished with arms, and most curious trophy works; on the pedestal lye two images, in full proportion, of white marble in a cumbent posture, in their robes, representing William Cavendish, duke of Newcastle, and Margaret his duchess, his second and last wife, being the daughter of Sir Charles, and the sister of lord Lucas of Colchester; who as she had deservedly acquired the reputation of a lady of uncommon wit, learning, and liberality; so the duke her husband had rendered himself famous for his loyalty, and constant fidelity to the royal family, during the civil wars in this kingdom and in Scotland. The duke having caused this stately monument to be erected here to the memory of his lady, died soon after in the year 1676, aged 84, and was interred here.'
The Epitaph for the Duchess.
"Here lies the loyal Duke of Newcastle and his Duchess, his second wife, by whom he had no issue. Her name was Margaret Lucas, youngest sister to the Lord Lucas of Colchester, a noble family, for all the brothers were valiant, and all the sisters virtuous. This Duchess was a wise, witty, and learned Lady, which her many books do well testify: She was a most virtuous, and loving, and careful wife, and was with her Lord all the time of his banishment and miseries; and when they came home never parted with him in his solitary retirements."
The following is a catalogue of her works, in which we have taken pains to be as accurate as possible, in order to do justice to the poetical character of this lady.
1. The World's Olio.
2. Nature's Picture drawn by Fancy's Pencil to the Life.
In this volume there are several feigned stories of natural descriptions, as comical, tragical, and tragi-comical, poetical, romancical, philosophical, and historical, both in prose and verse, some all verse, some all prose, some mixt; partly prose, and partly verse; also some morals, and some dialogues, Lond. 1656. folio.
3. Orations of different sorts, on different occasions, Lond. 1662.
4. Philosophical and Physical Opinions, 1633, folio.
5. Observations on Experimental Philosophy; to which is added, the Description of a New World. Mr. James Bristow began to translate some of these Philosophical Discourses into Latin.
6. Philosophical Letters; or modest Reflections on some Opinions in Natural Philosophy, maintained by several famous and learned authors of this age, expressed by way of letters, Lond. 1664, fol.
7. Poems and Fancies, Lond. 1664, folio.
8. Sociable Letters, 1664, folio.
9. The Life of the Duke of Newcastle her husband, which was translated into Latin, and is thought to be the best performance of this lady.
10. Observations of the Duke's, with Remarks of her own,
In the Library of the late Mr. Thomas Richardson was the Duchess of Newcastle's poems, 2 Vol. fol. MS. and in the library of the late bishop Willis was another MS. of her poems in folio.
Her Dramatic Works are,
1. Apocryphal Ladies, a Comedy; it is not divided into acts.
2. Bell in Campo, a Tragedy, in two parts.
3. Blazing World, a Comedy.
4. Bridals, a Comedy.
5. Comical Hash, a Comedy.
6. Convent of Pleasure, a Comedy.
7. Female Academy, a Comedy.
8. Lady Contemplation, a Comedy, in two parts.
9. Love's Adventure, in two parts, a Comedy.
10. Matrimonial Troubles, in two parts; the second being a Tragedy, or as the authoress stiles it, a Tragi-comedy.
11. Nature's three Daughters, Beauty, Love, and Wit, a Comedy, in two parts.
12. Presence, a Comedy.
13. Public Wooing, a Comedy, in which the Duke wrote several of the suitors speeches.
14. Religious, a Tragi-Comedy.
15. Several Wits, a Comedy.
16. Sociable Companions, or the Female Wits, a Comedy.
17. Unnatural Tragedy. Act II. Scene III. the Duchess inveighs against Mr. Camden's Britannia.
18. Wit's Cabal, a Comedy, in two parts.
19. Youth's Glory, and Death's Banquet, a Tragedy in two parts.
Mr. Langbaine has preserved part of the general prologue to her plays, which we shall insert as a specimen of her versification:
But noble readers, do not think my plays Are such as have been writ in former days; As Johnson, Shakespear, Beaumont, Fletcher writ, Mine want their learning, reading, language, wit. The Latin phrases, I could never tell, But Johnson could, which made him write so well. Greek, Latin poets, I could never read, Nor their historians, but our English Speed: I could not steal their wit, nor plots out-take; All my plays plots, my own poor brain did make. From Plutarch's story, I ne'er took a plot, Nor from romances, nor from Don Quixote.
* * * * *
WILLIAM CAVENDISH,
Baron Ogle, viscount Mansfield, earl, marquis, and duke of Newcastle, justly reckoned one of the most finished gentlemen, as well as the most distinguished patriot, general, and statesman of his age. He was son of Sir Charles Cavendish, youngest son of Sir William Cavendish, and younger brother of the first earl of Devonshire, by Katherine daughter of Cuthbert lord Ogle[1].
He was born in the year 1592, and discovered in his infancy a promptness of genius, and a love of literature. His father took care to have him instructed by the best masters in every science. He no sooner appeared at the court of King James I. than the reputation of his abilities drew the attention of that monarch upon him, who made him a knight of the Bath 1610, at the creation of Henry Prince of Wales[2].
In 1617 his father died, who left him a great estate; and having interest at court, he was by letters patent, dated Nov. 3, 1620, raised to the dignity of a peer of the realm, by the stile and title of baron Ogle, and viscount Mansfield; and having no less credit with King Charles I. than he had with his father, in the third year of the reign of that prince, he was advanced to the higher title of earl of Newcastle upon Tyne, and at the same time he was created baron Cavendish of Balsovor. Our author's attendance upon court, tho' it procured him honour, yet introduced him very early into difficulties; and it appears by Strafford's letters, that he did not stand well with the favourite duke of Buckingham, who was jealous of his growing interest, and was too penetrating not to discover, that the quickness of his lordship's parts would soon suggest some methods of rising, independent of the favourite, and perhaps shaking his influence. "But these difficulties, says Clarendon, (for he was deeply plunged in debt) tho' they put him on the thoughts of retirement, never in the least prevented him from demonstrating his loyalty when the King's cause demanded it."
Notwithstanding the earl's interest was not high with the ministers, yet he found means so to gain and to preserve the affection of his Majesty, that in the year 1638, when it was thought necessary to take the Prince of Wales out of the hands of a woman, his Majesty appointed the earl his governor, and by entrusting to his tuition the heir apparent of his kingdoms, demonstrated the highest confidence in his abilities and honour[3].
In the spring of the year 1639, the troubles of Scotland breaking out, induced the King to assemble an army in the North, soon after which he went to put himself at the head of it, and in his way was splendidly entertained by the earl at his seat at Welbeck, as he had been some years before when he went into Scotland to be crowned, which in itself, tho' a trivial circumstance, yet such was the magnificence of this noble peer, that both these entertainments found a place in general histories, and are computed by the duchess of Newcastle, who wrote the life of her lord, to have amounted to upwards of ten thousand pounds. He invited all the neighbouring gentry to pay their compliments to his Majesty, and partake of the feast, and Ben Johnson was employed in fitting such scenes and speeches as he could best devise; and Clarendon after mentioning the sumptuousness of those entertainments, observes, that they had a tendency to corrupt the people, and inspire a wantonness, which never fails to prove detrimental to morals.
As such an expedition as the King's against the Scots required immense sums, and the King's treasury being very empty, his lordship contributed ten thousand pounds, and raised a troop of horse, consisting of about 200 knights and gentlemen, who served at their own charge, and was honoured with the title of the Prince's troop[4].
Tho' these instances of loyalty advanced him in the esteem of the King, yet they rather heightened than diminished the resentment of the ministers, of which the earl of Holland having given a stronger instance, than his lordship's patience could bear, he took notice of it in such a way, as contributed equally to sink his rival's reputation, and raise his own; and as there is something curious in the particular manner in which the earl of Holland's character suffered in this quarrel, we shall upon the authority of the duchess of Newcastle present it to the reader.
The troop which the earl of Newcastle raised was stiled the Prince's, but his lordship commanded it as captain. When the army drew near Berwick, he sent Sir William Carnaby to the earl of Holland, then general of the horse, to know where his troop should march; his answer was, next after the troops of the general officers. The earl of Newcastle sent again to represent, that having the honour to march with the Prince's colours, he thought it not fit to march under any of the officers of the field; upon which the general of the horse repeated his orders, and the earl of Newcastle ordered the Prince's colours to be taken off the staff, and marched without any. When the service was over, his lordship sent Mr. Francis Palmer, with a challenge to the earl of Holland, who consented to a place, and hour of meeting; but when the earl of Newcastle came thither, he found not his antagonist, but his second. The business had been disclosed to the King, by whose authority (says Clarendon) the matter was composed; but before that time, the earl of Holland was never suspected to want courage; and indeed he was rather a cunning, penetrating, than a brave honest man, and was remarkably selfish in his temper.
The earl of Newcastle however found himself hard pressed by the ministerial faction, and being unwilling to give his Majesty any trouble about himself, he was generous enough to resign his place as governor to the Prince, and the marquis of Hertford was appointed in his room.
His lordship having no more business at court, and being unwilling to expose himself further to the machinations of his enemies, thought proper to retire to the country, where he remained quiet till he received his Majesty's orders to revisit Hull: Tho' this order came at twelve o'clock at night, yet such was his unshaken loyalty and affection, that he went directly, and tho' forty miles distant, he entered the place with only three or four servants early the next morning. He offered to his Majesty, says Clarendon, to have secured for him that important fortress, and all the magazines that were in it; but instead of receiving such a command, he had instructions sent him to obey the orders of the Parliament, who suspecting his principles not to be favourable to the schemes of opposition then engaged in, called him to attend the service of the house; and some disaffected members formed a design to have attacked him, but his character being unexceptionable, their scheme proved abortive, and he had leave to retire again into the country. This he willingly did, as he saw the affairs of state hastening to confusion and his country ready to be steeped in blood, and sacrificed to the fury of party. But when the opposition rose high, and it would have been cowardice to have remained unactive, he embraced the royal cause, accepted a commission for raising men, to take care of the town of Newcastle, and the four adjoining counties, in which he was so expeditious and successful, that his Majesty constituted him general of all the forces raised North of Trent; and likewise general and commander in chief of such as might be raised in the counties of Lincoln, Nottingham, Chester, Leicester, Rutland, Cambridge, Huntingdon, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex, with power to confer the honour of knighthood, coin money, print, and set forth such declarations as should seem to him expedient: of all which extensive powers, tho freely conferred, and without reserve, his lordship made a very sparing use; but with respect to the more material point of raising men, his lordship prosecuted it with such diligence, that in three months he had an army of eight thousand horse, foot, and dragoons, with which he marched directly into Yorkshire; and his forces having defeated the enemy at Pierce Bridge, his lordship advanced to York, where Sir Thomas Glenham, the governor, presented him with the keys, and the earl of Cumberland and many of the nobility resorted thither to compliment, and assist his lordship[5].
In the course of this civil war, we find the earl of Newcastle very successful in his master's service; he more than once defeated Sir Thomas Fairfax the general of the Parliament, and won several important forts and battles; for which his Majesty in gratitude for his services, by letters patent, dated the 27th of Oct. 1643, advanced him to the dignity of marquiss of Newcastle; and in the preamble of his patent, all his services (says Dugdale) are mentioned with suitable encomiums.
In the year 1644, after Prince Rupert had been successful in raising the siege of York, and flushed with the prosperity of his arms, against the consent of the marquis, he risked the battle of Marston Moor, in which the marquis's infantry were cut to pieces. Seeing the King's affairs in these counties totally undone, he made the best of his way to Scarborough, and from thence with a few of the principal officers of his army took shipping for Hamburgh, and left his estates, which were valued at upwards of twenty thousand pounds per ann. to be plundered by the Parliament's forces. After staying six months at Hamburgh, he went by sea to Amsterdam, and from thence made a journey to Paris, where he continued for some time, and where, notwithstanding the vast estate he had when the civil war broke out, his circumstances were now so bad, that himself and his young wife, were reduced to pawn their cloaths for sustenance[6]. He removed afterwards to Antwerp, that he might be nearer his own country; and there, tho' under very great difficulties, he resided for several years, while the Parliament in the mean time levied vast sums upon his estate, insomuch that the computation of what he lost by the disorders of those times, tho' none of the particulars can be disproved, amount to an incredible sum; but notwithstanding all these severities of fortune, he never lost his spirit, and was often heard to say, that if he was not much mistaken, the clouds of adversity which then hung over his country, would be dispersed at last by the King's restoration; that rebellion would entangle itself in its own toils, and after an interval of havock and confusion, order would return once more by the restoration of an exiled Prince. Notwithstanding the hardships of an eighteen years banishment, in which he experienced variety of wretchedness, he retained his vigour to the last. He was honoured by persons of the highest distinction abroad, and Don John of Austria and several princes of Germany visited him[7]. But what comforted him most, was the company frequently of his young King, who in the midst of his sufferings bestowed upon him the most noble Order of the Garter. The gloomy period at last came to an end, and the marquis returned to his country with his sovereign; and by letters patent dated the 16th of March 1664, he was advanced to the dignity of earl of Ogle, and duke of Newcastle. He spent the evening of his days in a country retirement, and indulged himself in those studies, with which he was most affected.
This noble person from his earliest youth was celebrated for his love of the muses, and was the great patron of the poets, in the reign of King Charles I. This propension has drawn on him, tho' very unjustly, the censure of some grave men. Lord Clarendon mentions it, with decency; but Sir Philip Warwick, in his history of the rebellion, loses all patience, and thinks it sufficient to ruin this great general's character, that he appointed Sir William Davenant, a poet, his lieutenant general of the ordnance, insinuating that it was impossible a man could have a turn for poetry, and a capacity for any thing else at the same time; in which observation, Sir Philip has given a convincing proof of his ignorance of poetry, and want of taste. The example of the glorious Sidney is sufficient to confute this historian; and did not Mr. Chillingworth combat with great success, though in other branches of literature, against the Papal church, by the dint of reason and argument, and at the same time served as engineer in the royal army with great ability[8]? The truth is, this worthy nobleman having himself a taste for the liberal arts, was always pleased to have men of genius about him, and had the pleasure to rescue necessitous merit from obscurity. Ben Johnson was one of his favourites, and he addressed to him some of his verses, which may be seen in his works.
In the busy scenes of life it does not appear that this nobleman suffered his thoughts to stray so far from his employment, as to turn author; but in his exile, resuming his old taste of breaking and managing horses, (than which there cannot be a more manly exercise) he thought fit to publish his sentiments upon a subject of which he was perfectly master. The title is, The New Method for managing Horses, with cuts, Antwerp 1658. This book was first written in English, and afterwards translated into French, by his lordship's directions.
This great man died in the possession of the highest honours and fairest reputation the 25th of December 1676, in the 84th year of his age. His grace was twice married, but had issue only by his first lady. His titles descended to his son, Henry earl of Ogle, who was the last heir male of his family, and died 1691, with whom the title of Newcastle in the line of Cavendish became extinct.
In his exile he wrote two comedies, viz.
The Country Captain, a Comedy, printed at Antwerp 1649, afterwards presented by his Majesty's servants at Black-Fryars, and very much commended by Mr. Leigh.
Variety, a Comedy, presented by his Majesty's Servants at Black-Fryars, and first printed in 1649, and generally bound with the Country Captain; it was also highly commended in a copy of verses by Mr. Alexander Brome.
He likewise has written
The Humourous Lovers, a Comedy, acted by his royal highness's servants, Lond. 1677, 4to. This was received with great applause, and esteemed one of the best plays of that time.
The Triumphant Widow; or, the Medley of Humours, a Comedy, acted by his royal highness's servants, Lond. 1677, 4to. which pleased Mr. Shadwell so well, that he transcribed a part of it into his Bury Fair, one of the most taking plays of that poet.
Shadwell says of his grace, that he was the greatest master of wit, the most exact observer of mankind, and the most accurate judge of humour, that ever he knew.
Footnotes: 1. Dugdale's Baron. vol. 2. 2. Dugdale vol. 2. p. 421. 3. Dugdale, ubi supra. 4. Rushworth's collection, vol. 1. p. 929. 5. Clarendon, p. 283. 6. Life of the D. of Newcastle, p. 56. 7. Ashmole's order of the garter. 8. See his life by Mr. des Maizeaux.
* * * * *
Sir JOHN BIRKENHEAD.
Winstanley, in his short account of this gentleman, says, that they who are ignorant of his works, must plead ignorance of all wit and learning; but the truth is, though he made some figure in his time, yet it was not so considerable as to transmit his name with any lustre to posterity, and Winstanley has been too peremptory, in secluding those from wit, who should be ignorant of the fame of Birkenhead. This observation, however, excited us to a search after some particulars concerning him; for Winstanley himself has given very few, and closes his life in his usual way, with only informing the readers that he lived in such a reign. The best account we could find of him, is in the Athenæ Oxon. of Wood. Our author was son of Randal Birkenhead of Northwich in Cheshire, Sadler, and was born there; he became a servitor of Oriel College, under the tuition of Humphrey Lloyd, afterwards lord bishop of Bangor. He continued in the college till he was made bachelor of arts, and then becoming Amanuensis to Dr. Laud, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, who, taking a liking to him for his ingenuity, did, by his diploma make him master of arts, An. 1639, and by his letters commendatory thereupon, he was elected probationer fellow of All-Souls College, in the year following. After the rebellion broke out, and the King set up his court at Oxford, our author was appointed to write the Mercurii Aulici, which being very pleasing to the loyal party, his Majesty recommended him to the electors, that they would chuse him moral philosophy reader; which being accordingly done, he continued in that office, with little profit from it, till 1648, at which time he was not only turned out thence, but from his fellowship, by the Presbyterian visitors. Afterwards, in this destitute situation, Wood observes, that he retired to London, and made shift to live upon his wits; having some reputation in poetry, he was often applied to by young people in love, to write epistles for them, and songs, and sonnets on their mistresses: he was also employed in translating and writing other little things, so as to procure a tolerable livelihood.
Having, in this manner, supported the gloomy period of confusion, he was, at his Majesty's restoration, by virtue of his letters, sent to the university, created doctor of the civil law, and in 1661 he was elected a Burgess for Wilton, to serve in that Parliament which began at Westminster the 8th of May, the same year. In 1662, November 14, he received the honour of knighthood, and January 1663 he was constituted one of the masters of requests, in the room of Sir Richard Fanshaw, when he went ambassador into Spain, he being then also master of the faculties, and a member of the Royal Society. An anonymous writer tells us, that Sir John Berkenhead was a poor alehouse-keeper's son, and that he rose by lying, or buffooning at court, to be one of the masters of requests, and faculty office, and also got by gifts at court 3000 l. This is a poor reflexion upon him, and indeed rather raises, than detracts from his reputation, for a man certainly must have merit, who can rise without the advantage of fortune or birth, whereas these often procure a fool preferment, and make him eminent, who might otherwise have lived and died in obscurity. It is said of Birkenhead, that when an unmannerly Member of Parliament, in opposing him, took occasion to say, that he was surprized to hear an alehouse-keeper's son talk so confidently in the House, he coolly replied, I am an alehouse-keeper's son, I own it, and am not ashamed of it, but had the gentleman, who upbraided me with my birth, been thus descended, in all probability he would have been of the same profession himself; a reply at once, sensible and witty. Mr. Wood, however, seems to be of opinion, that he was too much given to bantering, and that if he had thrown less of the buffoon or mimic into his conversation, his wit would have been very agreeable. He is charged by Wood with a higher failing, which ought indeed rather to be construed one of the blackest crimes, that is, ingratitude to those who assisted him in distress, whom, says he, he afterwards slighted. This is a heavy charge, and, if true, not a little diminishes his reputation, but methinks some apology may even be made for his slighting those who assisted him in distress; we find they were such persons as could never challenge esteem, young men in love, for whom he wrote sonnets, and for whom he might have no friendship; it often happens, that men of parts are so unhappy as to be obliged to such people, with whom, were their situation otherwise, it would be beneath them to associate; and it is no wonder when prosperity returns, that they, in some measure, forget obligations they owed to those of a rank so much inferior: and something must be allowed to that pride, which a superior understanding naturally inspires.
Our author's works are
Mercurius Aulicus. Communicating the Intelligence, and the Affairs of the Court at Oxford to the rest of the Kingdom, the first of these was published on the 1st of January, 1642, and were carried on till about the end of 1645, after which time they were published but now and then. They were printed weekly in one sheet, and sometimes in more, in 4to, and contain, says Wood, a great deal of wit and buffoonery.
News from Pembroke and Montgomery, or Oxford Manchestered, &c. printed in 1648 in one sheet 4to. It is a feigned speech, as spoken by Philip, earl of Pembroke, in the Convocation House at Oxford, April 12, 1648, when he came to visit, and undo the University, as Edward, Earl of Manchester had done that of Cambridge, while he was Chancellor thereof. It is exceeding waggish, and much imitating his Lordship's way of speaking.
Paul's Church-yard; Libri Theologici, Politici, Historici, mundinis Paulinis (una cum Templo) prostant venales, &c. printed in three several sheets in 4to. Anno 1649. These Pamphlets contain feigned Titles of Books, and Acts of Parliaments, and several Questions, all reflecting on the Reformers, and Men in those times.
The Four Legg'd Quaker, a Ballad, to the Tune of the Dog and Elders Maid, London 1659, in three columns in one side of a sheet of paper.
A New Ballad of a famous German Prince, without date.
The Assembly Man, written 1647, London 1663, in three sheets in 4to. The copy of it was taken from the author by those that said they could not rob, because all was theirs; at length after it had slept several years, the author published it to avoid false copies; it is also printed in a Book entitled Wit and Loyalty Revived, in a Collection of some smart Satires in Verse and Prose, on the late times, London 1682, said to be written by Cowley, our Author, and the famous Butler; he hath also scattered Copies of Verses and Translations extant, to which are vocal Compositions, set by Henry Lawes, such as Anacreon's Ode, called The Lute.
An Anniversary on the Nuptial of John, Earl of Bridgwater. He has also wrote a Poem on his staying in London, after the Act of Banishment for Cavaliers, and another called the Jolt, made upon Cromwel's being thrown off the Coach-box of his own Coach, which he would drive through Hyde Park, drawn by six German Horses, sent him as a present by the Count of Oldenburgh, while his Secretary John Thurloe sat in the Coach, July 1654. Our author died within the Precincts of Whitehall, in the year 1679, and was buried in the Church-yard of St. Martin's in the Fields, leaving behind him a collection of Pamphlets, which came into the hands of his executors, Sir Richard Mason, and Sir Muddeford Bramston.
* * * * *
ROGER BOYLE, Earl of ORRERY,
Was younger brother of Richard earl of Burlington and Cork, and fifth son of Richard, stiled the great earl of Cork. He was born April 25, 1621, and independent of the advantage of his birth and titles, was certainly one of the ablest politicians, as well as most accomplished noblemen of his age. By the influence of his father with lord deputy Faulkland, he was raised to the dignity of baron Broghill, in the kingdom of Ireland in 1628, when only seven years old[1]. He received his education at the college of Dublin, where he studied with so much diligence as gave great hopes of his future atchievements, and the rapid progress he made in erudition, induced his father to send him about 1636 to make the tour of France and Italy, under the care of one Mr. Marcomes, and in the company of lord Kynalmeaky, his elder brother; and this method the earl took to perfect all his sons, after they had gone through the course of a domestic education; and it is remarkable, that all his children travelled under the same gentleman's protection, who has no small honour reflected on him from his illustrious pupils. Upon his return from his travels, he found a war ready to break out against the Scots, and was pressed by the earl of Northumberland, the commander in chief of the expedition, to share in reducing them; but this commotion subsiding, his lordship employed himself another way. By his father's desire, who loved to settle his children early in the world, he married lady Margaret Howard, daughter to the earl of Suffolk, and setting out for Ireland, landed there the very day the rebellion broke out, viz. Oct. 23, 1641. The post assigned him in this time of danger, was the defence of his father's castle of Lismore; in which he gave proofs of the most gallant spirit, as well as political conduct: The first of which he shewed in the vigorous sally he made to the relief of Sir Richard Osborn, who was besieged in his own house by the rebels, till relieved by lord Broghill, who raised the siege, and saved him and all his family[2]; and a strong proof of the latter, by advising Sir William St. Leger, then president of Munster, to act vigorously against the Irish, notwithstanding they produced the King's commission, which he was penetrating enough to discern to be a forgery.
After the cessation in Ireland, lord Broghill came to Oxford, then the residence of King Charles I. and paid his duty to that monarch, and was honoured with many private audiences, when he represented to his Majesty, the temper and disposition of the Irish Papists, and the falshood of the pretended Committee they had sent over to mislead his Majesty, that the King was convinced the Irish never meant to keep the cessation, and that therefore it was not the interest of the English subjects to depend upon it.
Now that we have mentioned the Irish Papists, one thing must not be omitted, as it is both curious in itself, and reflects honour on lord Broghill. Many years after the reduction of these rebels, his lordship, who was then earl of Orrery, happened to pay a visit to the duke of Ormond at Kilkenny, where he met with lord Muskerry, who headed the insurrection, and produced a false commission for what he did. Finding Muskerry in an open good humour, he took occasion to retire with him, and to ask him in a pleasant manner, how he came by that commission which had so much the appearance of being genuine: 'Lord Muskerry answered, I'll be free, and unreserved with you, my lord; it was a forged commission drawn up by one Walsh, a lawyer, and others; who having a writing to which the Great Seal was affixed, one of the company very dextrously took off the sealed wax from the label of that writing, and fixed it to the label of the forged commission. Whilst this was doing another accident happened, which startled all present; and almost disconcerted the scheme. The forged commision being finished, while the parchment was handling and turning, in order to put on the seal, a tame wolf which lay asleep by the fire, awakened at the crackling of the parchment, and running to it, seized it, and tore it to pieces, notwithstanding their haste and struggle to prevent him; so that after all their pains, they were obliged to begin a new, and write it all over again.'[3] Lord Orrery struck with the daring wickedness of this action, could not help expressing himself to that effect, while Muskerry replied merrily, it would have been impossible to have kept the people together without this device.
'Till the death of King Charles I. we find lord Broghill warm in the royal interest, and that he abhorred those measures which he foresaw would distract his country; and as soon as that melancholy event happened, he quitted his estate[4] as ruined past all hopes, and hid himself in the privacy of a close retirement. How he came, afterwards to alter his conduct, and join with a party he before so much abhorred, we shall endeavour to shew.
Upon his lordship's coming from Ireland, he withdrew to Marston in Somersetshire, where he had leisure to reflect on the ruined state of the Kingdom[5]; and when he revolved in his mind its altered and desperate situation, he was ashamed to think that he should remain an idle spectator of his country's miseries, being of a different opinion from Mr. Addison: 'That when vice prevails, and wicked men bear sway, the post of honour is a private station.' These reflexions roused him to action, and produced a scheme worthy of himself. He resolved to attempt something in favour of the King; and accordingly under the pretence of going to the Spa for his health, he determined to cross the seas, and apply to Charles II. for a commission to raise forces in Ireland, in order to restore his Majesty, and recover his own estate. Having formed this resolution, he desired the earl of Warwick, who had an interest with the prevailing party, to procure a licence for him to go to the Spa. He communicated his scheme to some confirmed royalists, in whom he thought he could confide, and having rais'd a considerable sum of money, he came up to London to prosecute his voyage. Lord Broghil[l], however, was betrayed, and the committee, who then took upon them the government of the realm, threatened him with destruction. Cromwell interceeded, and being sensible of his lordship's great abilities, obtained a permission to talk privately with him before they proceeded to extremities. Cromwell waited upon Broghill, and reproached him gently for his intention, which his lordship denied; but Cromwell producing letters of his writing to several Royalists, in whom he confided, he found it was in vain to dissemble any longer. The General then told him, that he was no stranger to his merit, tho' he had never before seen him; and that as the reduction of Ireland was intrusted to him, he had authority from the Committee to offer his lordship a command in that war, and insisted upon his answer immediately, as the Committee were then sitting, and waiting his return. Lord Broghill was infinitely surprized at so generous and unexpected an offer from Cromwell: He thought himself at liberty, by all the rules of honour to serve against the Irish, whose cruelty and rebellion were equally detested by the royal party, as by the Parliament; and his life and freedom being in danger if he refused, he accepted the commission, and immediately repaired to Bristol to wait there till forces should be sent him. This story we have from Mr. Morrice, who heard it from lord Orrery himself; and he adds, that it is very probable his lordship's design was betrayed out of pure love and affection by his sister Ranelagh, but how this love and affection enabled her to foresee that Cromwell would interpose to remove the danger which she exposed him to, is left by the reverend author unaccounted for. Ever after this interposition and friendly offer of Cromwell, we find gratitude binding lord Broghill to a faithfull service in his interest; and in the course of his ministry to Cromwell, he prevented many shameful acts of cruelty, which would have been otherwise perpetrated.
No sooner had Broghill arrived in Ireland, but his old friends flocked round him, and demonstrated the great heig[h]th of popularity to which he had risen in that kingdom; nor did his accepting this new commission make him negligent of their interest, for he did all he could for the safety of their persons and estates. An opportunity soon presented in which he very remarkably distinguished himself. He engaged at Macroom (with two thousand horse and dragoons) a party of Irish, consisting of upwards of five thousand, whom he totally defeated, and took their general the titular bishop of Ross prisoner[6]. This battle was fought May 10, 1650. Lord Broghill offered the bishop his life, if he would order those who were in the castle of Carigdrog-hid to surrender, which he promised; but when he was conducted to the place, he persuaded the garrison to defend it to the last extremity. Upon this lord Broghill caused him to be hanged; (tho' Mr. Morrice says, the soldiers hanged him without orders) and then commanded his heavy artillery to be brought up, which astonished his own army exceedingly, they knowing he had not so much as a single piece of battering cannon. He caused, however, several large trees to be cut, and drawn at a distance by his baggage horses; the besieged judging by the slowness of their motion, they were a vast size, capitulated before they came up, as his lordship advised, threatening otherwise to give them no quarter. He relieved Cromwell at Clonmell, and assisted both him and his father-in-law Ireton in their expedition; but because he could not moderate the fury of one, and mitigate the cruelty of the other, he incurred the displeasure of both; and Ireton was heard to say, that neither he nor Cromwell could be safe while Broghill had any command. Notwithstanding the aversion of Ireton to his lordship, yet he took care not to remit any of his diligence in prosecuting the war, he marched to that general's assistance at the siege of Limerick, and by his conduct and courage was the means of that town's falling into the hands of the Commonwealth; and till Ireland was entirely reduced, he continued
## active in his commission.
When Oliver rose to the dignity of Lord Protector, he sent for lord Broghill, merely to have his advice; and we are told by Oldmixon in his history of the Stewarts, that he then proposed to Cromwell to marry his daughter to King Charles II. and that as the Prince was then in distress abroad, he doubted not but his necessity would make him comply with the offer; he represented to the Protector the great danger to which he was exposed by the fickle humour of the English, who never doat long upon a favourite, but pull that man from eminence to day, whom they had but yesterday raised out of the dust; that this match would rivet his interest, by having the lawful prince so nearly allied to him; and perhaps his grandchild the indisputed heir of the crown. That he might then rule with more safety, nor dread either the violence of the Royalists, or the insidious enemies of his own government. Upon hearing this, Cromwell made a pause, and looking stedfastly in my lord's face, he asked him if he was of opinion, that the exiled prince could ever forgive his father's murderer; he answered as before, that his necessity was great, and in order to be restored to his crown, would even sacrifice his natural resentment to his own ease and grandeur; but Cromwell could not be induced to believe that ever Charles could pardon him.
Whether lord Broghill was serious in this proposal cannot be determined; but if he was, it is certain, he had a mean opinion of Charles; to have capitulated upon any terms with Cromwell, would have been betraying the dignity of his birth, and his right to reign; but to have stooped so low, as to take to his arms a child of his, who had murdered his father, and driven him to his exile, would have been an instance of the most infamous meanness that ever was recorded in history; and all the blemishes of that luxurious Prince's character, and the errors of his reign collected, do not amount to any thing so base, as would have been those nuptials.
In the year 1656 it was proposed to his lordship by the Protector to go down to Scotland, with an absolute authority, either because he suspected Monk, or was willing to give the people of that country some satisfaction, who complained of his severity; but he was very unwilling to receive the charge, and took it at last upon these conditions[7]: The first was: that he should be left to himself, and receive no orders; and the second, that no complaints should find credit, or procure directions in his absence; and the third, that he should be recalled in a year. He was very acceptable to the Scotch, and gained a great influence over them by speaking and acting with moderation. After his return, he was with Whitlock and Thurloe admitted into all the confidence that could be expected from a person in the Protector's circumstances; who if he had any chearful moments, spent them in their company, where he appeared quite another person than in the ordinary course of his conduct, which was built on a policy suited to his condition, the people he had to deal with, and the critical juncture of the times. Our author stood high in Cromwell's favour to the last; and it was, no doubt, in some measure owing to his gratitude, that he attached himself so firmly to his son and successor Richard. It perhaps will appear strange, but it is supported by evidence, that Cromwell did not love his own family so well as lord Broghill did. Being asked upon his death-bed whom he appointed his successor, he answered, "That in such a closet his will would be found," in which he named Fleetwood, but one of the Protector's daughters getting first to the drawer, she took the will and destroyed it[8].
Thus Richard against his father's intention obtained the government, which, however, it is very plain he was not fit to hold; for all the art and industry of Broghill could never so govern his proceedings, but that some steps either too violent or too remiss were taken, by which his administration fell into contempt; and doubtless the reason why Cromwell excluded his son, was, that he discovered his weakness, and found him without a capacity of reigning. When the oppression of committees, the general distraction amongst the people, and the anarchy into which the English affairs had fallen, began to point towards a restoration, we find lord Broghill declaring early for the King, going over into Ireland, there sounding the minds of the officers, and preparing that kingdom for the reception of his Majesty with open arms.
Thus we have seen him discharge with honour the debt of gratitude he owed to Cromwell; but notwithstanding the figure he made in the service, it is by no means clear that ever he was warmly attached to the republic; he was detected in having drank the King's health in company with the Protector's children, which Oliver very prudently thought proper to pass over. After the restoration, Broghill wanted not enemies, who insinuated things against him to King Charles, and blamed his tardiness in procuring his Majesty's return; but his lordship made it clear, that he was the first who declared for him in Ireland, and the most zealous, as well as the most powerful promoter of his interest. His Majesty was so well satisfied with his lordship's proceedings, that he wrote to him with his own hand, and thanked him for his loyalty[9]. On September 5, 1660, as an incontested proof of his Majesty's affection for his lordship, he by letters patent advanced him to the honour of earl of Orrery in the county of Cork[10]; and Sir Maurice Eustace, a friend of the duke of Ormond's, being appointed chancellor, Roger earl of Orrery, and Charles Coote, earl of Montrath, were with him made lords justices, about the close of that memorable year.
From that time till his death we find lord Orrery in the highest esteem in the three nations: He was employed by his Majesty to confer with the earl of Clarendon, whose imperious steps, it seems, had highly disobliged his master, and when that great man fell, the King made an offer of the seals to the earl of Orrery, who on account of his want of bodily vigour, declined it. At the same time he accepted a most arduous and unpleasing office from the King, and that was, to expostulate with the duke of York, and bring him to ask pardon for the haughty and insolent measures he took in supporting the chancellor.
His Majesty warmly pressed him to become a favourer of the French alliance, and for the reduction of the Dutch; neither of which were at all agreeable to his notions, and therefore that he might more concisely express the mischievous consequences he apprehended from these measures, he reduced his thoughts into a poem; and this was very well received by the King, who thought to have made some impression on him, in his turn, in a long audience he gave him for that purpose; but the earl's duty would not permit him to coincide in his opinion with the King, when he was sensible that the King's scheme was contrary to the interest of the nation; and this led him in plain terms to declare, that he never would concur in counsels to aggrandize France, which was already too great; or to break the power of the Dutch, which was barely sufficient for their own defence[11].
There is a particular circumstance in relation to this affair, which must not be omitted. When lord Orrery came from the audience of his Majesty, he was met by the earl of Danby, who asked him, whether he had closed with the King's proposals; to which lord Orrery answered, no. Then replied the other statesman, "Your lordship may be the honester man, but you will never be worth a groat." This passage is the more remarkable, because Danby was of the same opinion with Orrery, and temporized purely for the sake of power, which cost him afterwards a long imprisonment, and had very near lost him his life: So dear do such men often pay for sacrificing honour to interest. In the year 1679, Oct. 16, this great statesman died in the full possession of honours and fame: he had lived in the most tumultuous times; he had embarked in a dangerous ocean, and he had the address to steer at last to a safe haven. As a man, his character was very amiable; he was patient, compassionate, and generous; as a soldier, he was of undaunted courage; as a statesman, of deep penetration, and invincible industry; and as a poet, of no mean rank.
Before we give an account of his works, it will not be amiss, in order to illustrate the amiable character of lord Orrery, to shew, that tho' he espoused the Protector's interest, yet he was of singular service to the nation, in restraining the violence of his cruelty, and checking the domineering spirit of those slaves in authority, who then called themselves the legislature.
The authors of the Biographia Britannica, say, 'that our author opposed in Parliament, and defeated, the blackest measure Cromwell ever entered into, which was the passing a law for decimating the royal party, and his lordship's conduct in this, was by far the greatest action of his whole life. He made a long and an elaborate speech, in which he shewed the injustice, cruelty, and folly, of that truly infamous and Nero-like proposition. Finding that he was likely to lose the question upon the division, which probably would have issued in losing his life also; he stood up and boldly observed, "That he did not think so many Englishmen could be fond of slavery." 'Upon which so many members rose and followed him, that the Speaker without telling, declared from the chair the Noes have it, and the bill was accordingly thrown out. Upon this, he went immediately up to Cromwell, and said, "I have done you this day as great a service as ever I did in my life. How? returned Cromwell; by hindring your government, replied my lord, from becoming hateful, which already begins to be disliked; for if this bill had passed, three kingdoms would have risen up against you; and they were your enemies, and not your friends who brought it in." 'This Cromwell so firmly believed, that he never forgave nor trusted them afterwards.'
King Charles II. put my lord upon writing plays, which he did, upon the occasion of a dispute that arose in the Royal presence, about writing plays in rhime. Some affirmed, that it was to be done, others that it would spoil the fancy to be so confined; but lord Orrery was of another opinion, and his Majesty being willing, that a trial should be made, laid his commands on his lordship, to employ some of his leisure time that way, which his lordship readily complied with, and soon after composed the Black Prince.
It is difficult to give a full and accurate account of this nobleman's compositions; for it must be owned, he was a better statesman than a poet, and fitter to act upon the wide theatre of life, than to write representations for the circumscribed theatre of the stage. In the light of an author he is less eminent, and lived a life of too much hurry to become proficient in poetry, a grace which not only demands the most extensive abilities, but much leisure and contemplation. But if he was not extremely eminent as a poet, he was far removed above contempt, and deserves to have full mention made of all his writings; and we can easily forgive want of elegance and correctness in one who was of so much service to his country, and who was born rather to live than to write a great part.
According to the least exceptionable account, his works are as follow:
1. The Irish Colours displayed, in a reply of an English Protestant, to an Irish Roman Catholic, Lond. 1662, 4to.
2. An Answer to a scandalous Letter lately printed and subscribed be a Peter Walsh, procurator for the Secular and Romish priests of Ireland: This was the same infamous Walsh who forged the commisssion to act against the Protestants. In this letter his lordship makes a full discovery of the treachery of the Irish rebels, Dublin 1662, 4to. Lond. 1662, 4to.
3. A Poem on his Majesty's Restoration, presented by the earl himself to the King.
4. A Poem on the Death of the celebrated Mr. Abraham Cowley, Lond. 1667, fol. reprinted by Dr. Sprat, before his edition of Cowley's works; also reprinted and much commended by Mr. Budgel.
5. History of Henry V. a tragedy. Lond. 1668, fol. In this play Mr. Harris who played Henry, wore the Duke of York's coronation suit; and Betterton, who played Owen Tudor, by which he got reputation, wore the King's; and Mr. Liliston, to whom the part of the Duke of Burgundy was given, wore the Earl of Oxford's.
6. Mustapha the Son of Solyman the Magnificent, a Tragedy, Lond. 1667, fol. This play succeeded tollerably well.
7. The Black Prince, a Tragedy, Lond. 1672, fol. When this play was begun his lordship lay ill of the gout, and after he had finished two acts of it, he sent it to the King for his perusal, and at the same time told his Majesty, that while he laboured under that disorder, he had done these two acts; and perhaps would do no more till he was taken ill again; upon which his Majesty pleasantly said, that if it was not to be compleated till the return of the gout, he wished him a lusty fit of it[12].
8. Tryphon, a Tragedy, Lond. 1672, fol. These four plays were collected, and printed in fol. 1690, and make the entire first volume of the new edition of the earl's Dramatic Works.
9. Parthenissa, a Romance, in three volumes, Lond. 1665, 4to. 1677, fol. This romance is divided into six parts, the last written at the desire of, and therefore dedicated to, her royal highness the Princess Henrietta Maria, Duchess of Orleans, sister to King Charles II.
10. A Dream. This poem has been before mentioned. In it, the genius of France is introduced, saying every thing the French ministers could insinuate to inveigle King Charles II. to endeavour at making himself arbitrary, or to deceive him into a mean and scandalous dependence on Lewis XIV. to all which the ghost of Charles I. is next brought in, giving reasons why the sole foundation of a Monarch's power, is the love and confidence of his people.
11. The Art of War, Lond. 1677, fol. This work he addresses to the King, in a large dedication, which was but the first part of what he intended upon the subject; and was so strangely received, that the second never appeared.
12. Poems on most of the festivals of the church. This work, tho' printed and published, was never finished by our author. It was written in the last year of his life, under much weakness of body; and Budgel observes, very justly, that his poetry in this composition runs low; and indeed his characteristical fault as a poet, is want of elevation.
His posthumous works are these;
1. Mr. Anthony, a Comedy, 4to. Lond. 1692.
2. Guzman, a Comedy. 1693, 4to. upon a Spanish plot, and written in the Spanish manner.
3. Herod the Great, a Tragedy, Lond. 1694, 4to.
4. Altemira a Tragedy, brought upon the stage by Mr. Francis Manning 1702, dedicated to Lionel earl of Orrery, grandson to the author, with a prologue by lord viscount Bolingbroke. We may add to them his state letters, which have been lately published in one volume fol. The rest of his lordship's political papers perished in the flames, when his house at Charleville was burnt in the year 1690, by a party of King James's soldiers, with the duke of Berwick at their head.
We shall give a specimen of his lordship's poetry from a speech in Altemira, in a scene between Altemira and her lover.
ALTEM. I can forgive you all my Lycidor, But leaving me, and leaving me for war, For that, so little argument I find, My reason makes the fault look more unkind.
LYCIDOR. You see my griefs such deep impressions give, I'd better die than thus afflicted live. Yet to those sorrows under which I groan, Can you still think it fit to add your own?
ALTEM. 'Tis only you, have your own troubles wrought, For they alas! are not impos'd but sought; Did you but credit what you still profess, That I alone can make your happiness: You would not your obedience now decline, But end by paying it, your griefs and mine.
Footnotes: 1. Earl of Cork's True Remembrance. 2. Morrice's Memoirs of E. Orrery, chap. 6. 3. Memoirs of the Earl of Orrery, p. 36. 4. Carte's Life of the Duke of Ormond. 5. Memoirs of the Interregnum, p. 133. 6. Cox's History of Ireland, vol. 2. part 2d. p. 16. 7. Thurloe's State Papers. 8. Morrice's Memoirs chap. 5. 9. Budgel's Memoirs of the family of the Boyles. 10. Collin's peerage, vol. iv. p. 26. 11. Love's Memoirs of the Earl of Orrery. 12. Memoirs of the Earl of Orrery.
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RICHARD HEAD
Was the son of a minister in Ireland, who being killed in the rebellion there in 1641, amongst the many thousands who suffered in that deplorable massacre, our author's mother came with her son into England, and he having, says Winstanley, been trained up in learning, was by the help of some friends educated at Oxford, in the same college where his father formerly had been a student; but as his circumstances were mean, he was taken away from thence, and bound apprentice to a bookseller in London, but his genius being addicted to poetry, before his time was expired, he wrote a piece called Venus Cabinet unlocked; and afterwards he married and set up for himself, in which condition, he did not long continue, for being addicted to gaming, he ruined his affairs. In this distress he went over to Ireland, and composed his Hic & Ubique, a noted comedy; and which gained him some reputation. He then returned to England, reprinted his comedy, and dedicated it to the duke of Monmouth, from whom he received no great encouragement. This circumstance induced him to reflect, that the life of an author was at once the most dissipated and unpleasing in the world; that it is in every man's power to injure him, and that few are disposed to promote him. Animated by these reflexions, he again took a house, and from author resumed his old trade of a bookseller, in which, no doubt he judged right; for while an author (be his genius and parts ever so bright) is employed in the composition of one book, a bookseller may publish twenty; so that in the very nature of things, a bookseller without oppression, a crime which by unsuccessful writers is generally imputed to them, may grow rich, while the most industrious and able author can arrive at no more than a decent competence: and even to that, many a great genius has never attained.
No sooner had Mr. Head a little recovered himself, than we find him cheated again by the syren alurements of pleasure and poetry, in the latter of which, however, it does not appear he made any proficiency. He failed a second time, in the world, and having recourse to his pen, wrote the first part of the English Rogue, which being too libertine, could not be licensed till he had expunged some of the most luscious descriptions out of it.
Mr. Winstanley, p. 208, has informed us, that at the coming out of this first part, he was with him at the Three Cup tavern in Holborn drinking a glass of Rhenish, and made these verses upon him,
What Gusman, Buscan, Francion, Rablais writ, I once applauded for most excellent wit; But reading thee, and thy rich fancy's store, I now condemn what I admir'd before. Henceforth translations pack away, be gone, No Rogue so well writ, as the English one.
We cannot help observing, that Winstanley has a little ridiculously shewn his vanity, by informing the world, that he could afford to drink a glass of Rhenish; and has added nothing to his reputation by the verses, which have neither poetry nor wit in them.
This English Rogue, described in the life of Meriton Latroon, a witty extravagant, was published anno 1666, in a very large 8vo. There were three more parts added to it by Francis Kirkman and Mr. Head in conjunction.
He also wrote
Jackson's Recantation; or the Life and Death of a notorious highwayman, then hanging in chains at Hamstead, 1674.
Proteus Redivivus; or, the Art of wheedling, Lond. 1675.
The Floating Island; or a voyage from Lambethanio to Ramalia.
A Discovery of Old Brazil.
The Red Sea.
He wrote a Pamphlet against Dr. Wild, in answer to Wild's letter directed to his friend, upon occasion of his Majesty's declaration for liberty of conscience: This he concludes in the following manner, by which it will be seen that he was but a poor versifier.
Thus, Sir, you have my story, but am sorry (Taunton excuse) it is no better for ye, However read it, as your pease are shelling; For you will find, it is not worth the telling. Excuse this boldness, for I can't avoid Thinking sometimes you are but ill employ'd. Fishing for souls more fit, than frying fish; That makes me throw pease-shellings in your dish. You have a study, books wherein to look, How comes it then the Doctor turn'd a cook? Well Doctor Cook, pray be advised hereafter, Don't make your wife the subject of our laughter. I find she's careless, and your maid a slut, To let you grease your Cassock for your gut. You are all three in fault, by all that's blest; Mend you your manners first, then teach the rest.
Mr. Winstanley says, that our author met with a great many afflictions and crosses in his time, and was cast away at sea, as he was going to the Isle of Wight 1678.
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THOMAS HOBBS.
This celebrated philosopher was son of Thomas Hobbs, vicar of Westport, within the Liberty of Malmesbury, and of Charlton in Wilts, and was born at Westport on the 5th of April 1588[1]. It is related by Bayle, that his mother being frighted at the rumours of the report of the Spanish Armada, was brought to bed of him before her time, which makes it somewhat surprizing that he should live to so great an age. He had made an extraordinary progress in the languages before he arrived at his 14th year, when he was sent to Oxford, where he studied for five years Aristotle's philosophy. In the year 1607 he took the degree of batchelor of arts, and upon the recommendation of the principal of the college, he entered into the service of William Cavendish, baron Hardwicke, soon afterwards earl of Devonshire[2], by whom being much esteemed for his pleasantry and humour, he was appointed tutor to his son lord William Cavendish, several years younger than Hobbs. Soon after our author travelled with this young nobleman thro' France and Italy, where he made himself master of the different languages of the countries thro' which he travelled; but finding that he had in a great measure forgot his Greek and Latin, he dedicated his leisure hours to the revival of them, and in order to fix the Greek language more firmly in his mind, upon his return to England, he set about and accomplished a translation of Thucydides, who appeared to him preferable to all other Greek historians, and by rendering him into English he meant to shew his countrymen from the Athenian history, the disorders and confusions of a democratical government.
In the year 1628, the earl of Devonshire dying, after our author had served him 20 years, he travelled again into France with a son of Sir Gervas Clifton; at which time, and during which preregrination (says Wood) 'he began to make an inspection into the elements of Euclid, and be delighted with his method, not only for the theorems contained in it, but for his art of reasoning. In these studies he continued till 1631, when his late pupil the earl of Devonshire called him home in order to undertake the education of his son, then only thirteen years of age, in all the parts of juvenile literature; and as soon as it was proper for him to see the world, Hobbs again set out for France and Italy, and directed his young pupil to the necessary steps for accomplishing his education.
When our author was at Paris, he began to search into the fundamentals of natural science, and contracted an intimacy with Marius Marsennus a Minim, conversant in that kind of philosophy, and a man of excellent moral qualities.
In 1637 he was recalled to England, but finding the civil war ready to break out, and the Scots in arms against the King, instigated by a mean cowardice, he deferred his country in distress, and returned to Paris, that he might without interruption pursue his studies there, and converse with men of eminence in the sciences. The Parliament prevailing, several of the Royalists were driven from their own country, and were obliged to take shelter in France. The Prince of Wales was reduced likewise to quit the kingdom and live at Paris: Hobbs was employed to teach the young Prince mathematics, in which he made great proficiency; and our author used to observe, that if the Prince's application was equal to the quickness of his parts, he would be the foremost man in his time in every species of science. All the leisure hours that Hobbs enjoyed in Paris, he dedicated to the composition of a book called, The Leviathan, a work by which he acquired a great name in Europe; and which was printed at London while he remained at Paris. Under this strange name he means the body politic. The divines of the church of England who attended King Charles II. in France, exclaimed vehemently against this performance, and said that it contained a great many impious assertions, and that the author was not of the royal party. Their complaints were regarded, and Hobbs was discharged the court; and as he had extremely provoked the Papists, he thought it not safe for him to continue longer in France, especially as he was deprived of the protection of the King of England. He translated his Leviathan into Latin, and printed it with an appendix in 1668.
About ten years afterwards, the Leviathan was printed in Low Dutch. The character of this work is drawn as under, by bishop Burnet.
'His [Hobbs's] main principles were, that all men acted under an absolute necessity, in which he seemed protected by the then received doctrine of absolute decrees. He seemed to think that the universe was god, and that souls were material, Thought being only subtle and imperceptible motion. He thought interest and fear were the chief principles of society; and he put all morality in the following that which was our own private will or advantage. He thought religion had no other foundation than the laws of the land; and he put all the law in the will of the Prince, or of the people: For he writ his book at first in favour of absolute monarchy, but turned it afterwards to gratify the Republican party.'
Upon his return to England, he lived retired at the seat of the earl of Devonshire, and applied himself to the study of philosophy; and as almost all men who have written any thing successfully would be thought poets, so Hobbs laid claim to that character, tho' his poetry is too contemptible for crit[i]cism. Dr. White Kennet in his memoirs of the family of Cavendish informs us, 'That while Mr. Hobbs lived in the earl of Devonshire's family, his professed rule was to dedicate the morning to his health, and the afternoon to his studies; and therefore at his first rising he walked out, and climbed any hill within his reach; or if the weather was not dry, he fatigued himself within doors, by some exercise or other till he was in a sweat, recommending that practice upon his opinion, that an old man had more moisture than heat; and therefore by such motion heat was to be acquired, and moisture expelled; after this he took a breakfast, and then went round the lodgings to wait upon the earl, the countess, and the children, and any considerable strangers, paying some short addresses to them all. He kept these rounds till about 12 o'clock, when he had a little dinner provided for him, which he eat always by himself without ceremony. Soon after dinner he retired into his study, and had his candle, with ten or twelve pipes of tobacco laid by him, then shutting the door he fell to smoaking and thinking, and writing for several hours.'
He retained a friend or two at court to protect him if occasion should require; and used to say, it was lawful to make use of evil instruments to do ourselves good. 'If I were cast (said he) into a deep pit, and the Devil should put down his cloven foot, I should take hold of it to be drawn out by it.'
Towards the end of his life he read very few books, and the earl of Clarendon says, that he had never read much but thought a great deal; and Hobbs himself used to observe, that if he had read as much as other philosophers, he should have been as ignorant as they. If any company came to visit him, he would be free of his discourse, and behave with pleasantry, till he was pressed, or contradicted, and then he had the infirmities of being short and peevish, and referring them to his writings, for better satisfaction. His friends who had the liberty of introducing strangers to him, made these terms with them before admission, that they should not dispute with the old man, or contradict him.
In October 1666, when proceedings against him were depending, with a bill against atheism and profaneness, he was at Chatsworth, and appeared extremely disturbed at the news of it, fearing the messengers would come for him, and the earl of Devonshire would deliver him up, the two houses of Parliament commit him to the bishops, and they decree him a heretic. This terror upon his spirits greatly disturbed him. He often confessed to those about him, that he meant no harm, was no obstinate man, and was ready to make any satisfaction; for his prevailing principle and resolution was, to suffer for no cause whatever.
Under these apprehensions of danger, he drew up, in 1680, an historical naration of heresy, and the punishments thereof, endeavouring to prove that there was no authority to determine heresy, or to punish it, when he wrote the Leviathan.
Under the same fears he framed an apology for himself and his writings; observing, that the exceptionable things in his Leviathan were not his opinions, so much as his suppositions, humbly submited to those who had the ecclesiastical power, and never since dogmatically maintained by him either in writing or discourse; and it is much to be suspected, as Dr. Kennet observes, that upon this occasion, he began to make a more open shew of religion and church communion. He now frequented the chapel, joined in the service, and was generally a partaker of the sacrament; and when any strangers used to call in question his belief, he always appealed to his conformity in divine service, and referred them to the chaplain for a testimony of it. Others thought it a meer compliance with the orders of the family; and observed, he never went to any parish church, and even in the chapel upon Sundays he went out after prayers, and would not condescend to hear the sermon, and when any friend asked the reason of it, he gave no other answer but this, that preachers could tell him nothing but what he knew. He did not conceal his hatred to the clergy; but it was visible his aversion proceeded from the dread of their civil power and interest. He had often a jealousy that the bishops would burn him; and of all the bench he was most afraid of Dr. Seth Ward, bishop of Sarum, because he had most offended him. Dr. Kennet further observes, that his whole life was governed by his fears.
In the first Parliament of 1640, while it seemed to favour the measures of the court, he wrote a little tract in English wherein he demonstrated as himself tells us, that all the power and rights necessary for the peace of the kingdom, were inseparably annexed to the sovereignty of the King's person. But in the second parliament of that year, when they proceeded fiercely against those who had written or preached in defence of the regal power; he was the first that fled, went over into France, and there continued eleven years. Whether from the dread of assassination, or as some have thought from the notion of ghosts and spirits, is uncertain, but he could not endure to be left in an empty house; whenever the earl of Devonshire removed, he would accompany him; even in his last stage from Chatsworth to Hardwick, when in a weak condition, he dared not be left behind, but made his way upon a feather bed in a coach, tho' he survived the journey but a few days. He could not bear any discourse of death, and seemed to cast off all thoughts of it; he delighted to reckon upon longer life. The winter before he died he had a warm coat made him, which he said must last him three years, and then he would have such another. A few days after his removal to Hardwick, Wood says that he was struck with a dead palsy, which stupified his right side from head to foot, depriving him of his speech and reason at the same time; but this circumstance is not so probable, since Dr. Kennet has told us, that in his last sickness he frequently enquired, whether his disease was curable; and when it was told him that he might have ease but no remedy, he used these expressions. 'I shall be glad then to find a hole to creep out of the world at;' which are reported to be his last sensible words, and his lying some days following in a state of stupefaction, seemed to be owing to his mind, more than to his body. The only thought of death which he appeared to entertain in time of health, was to take care of some inscription on his grave; he would suffer some friends to dictate an epitaph, amongst which he was best pleased with these words:
"This is the true Philosopher's Stone."
He died at Hardwick, as above-mentioned, on the 4th of Dec. 1679. Notwithstanding his great age, for he exceeded 90 at his death, he retained his judgment in great vigour till his last sickness.
Some writers of his life maintain, that he had very orthodox notions concerning the nature of God and of all the moral virtues; notwithstanding the general notion of his being a downright atheist; that he was affable, kind, communicative of what he knew, a good friend, a good relation, charitable to the poor, a lover of justice, and a despiser of money. This last quality is a favourable circumstance in his life, for there is no vice at once more despicable and the source of more base designs than avarice. His warmest votaries allow, that when he was young he was addicted to the fashionable libertinism of wine and women, and that he kept himself unmarried lest wedlock should interrupt him in the study of philosophy.
In the catalogue of his faults, meanness of spirit and cowardice may be justly imputed to him. Whether he was convinced of the truth of his philosophy, no man can determine; but it is certain, that he had no resolution to support and maintain his notions: had his doctrines been of ever so much consequence to the world, Hobbs would have abjured them all, rather than have suffered a moment's pain on their account. Such a man may be admired for his invention, and the planning of new systems, but the world would never have been much illuminated, if all the discoverers of truth, like the philosopher of Malmsbury, had had no spirit to assert it against opposition. In a piece called the Creed of Mr. Hobbs examined, in a feigned Conference between him and a Student of Divinity, London 1670, written by Dr. Tenison, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury, the Dr. charges Mr. Hobbs with affirming, 'that God is a bodily substance, though most refined, and forceth evil upon the very wills of men; framed a model of government pernicious in its consequences to all nations; subjected the canon of scripture to the civil powers, and taught them the way of turning the Alcoran into the Gospel; declared it lawful, not only to dissemble, but firmly to renounce faith in Christ, in order to avoid persecution, and even managed a quarrel against the very elements of Euclid.' Hobbs's Leviathan met with many answers, immediately after the restoration, especially one by the earl of Clarendon, in a piece called a Brief View and Survey of the dangerous and pernicious Errors to Church and State, in Mr. Hobbs's Book entitled Leviathan, Oxon. 1676. The university of Oxford condemned his Leviathan, and his Book de Cive, by a decree passed on the 21st of July 1638, and ordered them to be publickly burnt, with several other treatises excepted against.
The following is a catalogue of his works, with as full an account of them as consists with our plan.
He translated into English the History of the Grecian War by Thucydides, London 1628, and 1676 in fol. and since reprinted in two volumes in octavo.
De Mirabilibus Pecci, a Latin Poem, printed at London 1636; it was translated into English by a person of quality, and the translation was published with the original at London 1678.
Elementa Philosophica, seu Politica de Cive, id est, de Vita civili & politicâ prudenter instituendâ, Paris 1642 in 4to. Mr. Hobbs printed but a few copies of this book, and revised it afterwards, and made several additions to it, with which improvements it was printed at Amsterdam, under the direction of Monsieur Forbier, who published a French translation of it. Dr. John Bramhall, bishop of Derry in Ireland, in the Preface to his Book entitled a Defence of true Liberty, from an antecedent and extrinsical Necessity, tells us, 'that ten years before he had given Mr. Hobbs about sixty exceptions, one half political, and the other half theological to that book, and every exception justified by a number of reasons, to which he never yet vouchsafed any answer.' Gassendus, in a letter to Sorbiere, tells us, that our author's Book de Cive, deserves to be read by all who would have a deep insight into the subject. Puffendorf observes, that he had been much obliged to Mr. Hobbs, whose hypothesis in this book, though it favours a little of irreligion, is in other respects sufficiently ingenious and sound.
An Answer to Sir William Davenant's Epistle or Preface to Gondibert, Paris 1650, 12mo. and afterwards printed with Gondibert. See Davenant.
Human Nature, or the Fundamental Elements of Policy, being a Discovery of the Faculties, Acts, and Passions of the Soul of Man, from their original Causes, according to such philosophical Principles as are not commonly known or asserted.
De Corpore Politico, or the Elements of Law, London 1650.
Leviathan, or the Matter, Power, and Form of a Commonwealth, London 1651 in fol. reprinted again in fol. 1680; a Latin Version was published at Amsterdam 1666 in 4to; it was likewise translated into Low Dutch, and printed at Amsterdam 1678 in 4to. To the English editions is subjoined a Review of the Leviathan.
A Compendium of Aristotle's Rhetoric and Rhamus's Logic.
A Letter about Liberty and Necessity, London 1654 in 12mo. to this piece several answers were given, especially by Dr. Bernard Laney, and Dr. Bramhall, bishop of Derry, London 1656 in 4to.
Elementorum Philosophiæ sectio prima de Corpore, London 1655 in 8vo; in English, London 1656 in 4to. sectio secunda, London 1657 in 4to. Amsterdam 1680 in 4to.
Six Lessons to the Professors of Mathematics of the Institution of Sir Henry Saville, London 1656 in 4to; this is written against Dr. Seth Ward, and Dr. John Wallis.
The Remarks of the Absurd Geometry, Rural Language, &c. of Dr. John Wallis, London 1657 in 8vo. Dr. Wallis having published in 1655 his Elenchus Geometriæ Hobbianæ. It occasioned a notable controversy between these two great men.
Examinatio et Emendatio Mathematicæ hodiernæ, &c. in sex Dialogis, London 1660, in 4to. Amsterdam 1668 in 4to.
Dialogus Physicus, sive de Natura Aeris, London 1661 in 4to.
De Duplicatione Cubi, London 1661, 4to. Amsterdam 1668 in 4to.
Problemata Physica, una cum magnitudine Circuli, London 1662, 4to.
De Principiis et Ratiocinatione Geometrarum, contra sastuosum Professorem Geometræ, Amsterdam 1668 in 4to.
Quadratura Circuli, Cubatio sphæræ, Duplicatio Cubi; una cum Responsione ad Objectiones Geometriæ Professoris Saviliani Oxoniæ editas Anno 1669, London in 4to. 1669.
Rosetum Geometricum, sive Propositiones aliquot frustra antehac tentatæ, cum censura brevi Doctrinæ Wallisianæ de Motu, London 1671 in 4to. There is an account of this book in the Philosophical Transactions, Numb. 72, for the year 1671.
Three Papers presented to the Royal Society against Dr. Wallis, with Considerations on Dr. Wallis's Answer to them, London 1671, 4to.
Lux Mathematica &c.
Censura Doctrinæ Wallisianæ de Libra.
Rosetura Hobbesii, London 1672 in quarto.
Principia et Problemata aliquot Geometrica ante desperata, nunc breviter explicata & demonstrata, London 1674, 4to.
Epistola ad Dom. Ant. Wood Authorem Historiæ & Antiquitat Universit. Oxon. dated April 20, 1674; the substance of this letter is to complain of the figure which Mr. Wood makes him appear in, in that work; Hobbs, who had an infinite deal of vanity, thought he was entitled to higher encomiums, and more a minute relation of his life than that gentleman gave. An Answer was written to it by Dr. Fell, in which Hobbs is treated with no great ceremony.
A Letter to William, Duke of Newcastle, concerning the Controversy he had with Dr. Laney, Bishop of Ely, about Liberty and Necessity, London 1670 in 12mo.
Decameron Phisiologicum, or Ten Dialogues on Natural Philosophy, London 1678, 8vo. To this is added the Proportion of a Straight Line to hold the Arch of a Quadrant; an account of this book is published in the Philosophical Transactions, Numb. 138.
His Last Words, and Dying Legacy, printed December 1679, and published by Charles Blunt, Esq; from the Leviathan, in order to expose Mr. Hobbs's Doctrine.
His Memorable Sayings in his Books, and at the Table, printed with his picture before it.
Behemoth, the History of the Civil Wars of England, from 1640 to 1660, printed London, 1679.
Vita Thomæ Hobbs; this is a Latin Poem, written by himself, and printed in 4to, 1679.
Historical Narration of Heresy, and the Punishment thereof, London 1680, in four sheets and a half in folio, and in 1682 in 8vo. of this we have already made some mention.
Vita Thomæ Hobbs, written by himself in prose, and printed at Caropolis, i.e. London, and prefixed to Vitæ Hobbianæ Auctarium 1681 in 8vo. and 1682 in 4to.
A Brief of the Art of Rhetoric, containing the Substance of all that Aristotle hath written in his three Books on that Subject, printed in 12mo. but without a date.
A Dialogue between a Philosopher and a Student of the Common Law of England.
An Answer to Archbishop Bramhall's Book called the Catching of the Leviathan, London 1682 in 8vo.
Seven Philosophical Problems, and two Positions of Geometry, London 1682 in 8vo. dedicated to the King 1662.
An Apology for himself and his Writings, of which we have already taken notice.
Historia Ecclesiastica carmine elegiaco concinnata, London 1688 in 8vo.
Tractatus Opticus, inserted in Mersennus's Cogitata Physico-Mathematica, Paris 1644 in 4to.
He translated into English Verse the Voyages of Ulysses, or Homer's Odysseys. B. ix, x, xi, xii. London 1674 in 8vo.
Homer's Iliads and Odysse[y]s, London 1675, and 1677 in 12mo; to which is prefixed a Preface concerning Heroic Poetry. Mr. Pope in his Preface to his Translation of Homer's Iliad, says, 'that Mr. Hobbs, in his Version, has given a correct explanation of the sense in general, but for particulars and circumstances, lops them, and often omits the most beautiful. As for its being a close translation, I doubt not, many have been led into that error by the shortness of it, which proceeds not from the following the original line by line, but from the contractions above mentioned. He sometimes omits whole similes and sentences, and is now and then guilty of mistakes, into which no writer of his learning could have fallen but through carelessness. His poetry, like Ogilby's, is too mean for criticism.' He left behind likewise several MSS. Mr. Francis Peck has published two original Letters of our author; the first is dated at Paris October 21, 1634, in which he resolves the following question. Why a man remembers less his own face, which he sees often in a glass, than the face of a friend he has not seen a great time? The other Letter is dated at Florence, addressed to his friend Mr. Glen 1636, and relates to Dr. Heylin's History of the Sabbath.
Thus have we given some account of the life and writings of the famous Philosopher of Malmsbury, who made so great a figure in the age in which he lived, but who, in the opinion of some of the best writers of that time, was more distinguished for his knowledge than his morals, and there have not been wanting those who have declared, that the lessons of voluptuousness and libertinism, with which he poisoned the mind of the young King Charles II. had so great an effect upon the morals of that Prince, that our nation dearly suffered by this tutorage, in having its wealth and treasure squandered by that luxurious Monarch. Hobbs seems not to have been very amiable in his life; he was certainly incapable of true friendship, for the same cowardice, or false principle, which could instigate him to abandon truth, would likewise teach him to sacrifice his friend to his own safety. When young, he was voluptuous, when old, peevish, destitute alike of resolution and honour. However high his powers, his character is mean, he flattered the prevailing follies, he gave up virtue to fashion, and if he can be produced as a miracle of learning, he can never be ranked with those venerable names, who have added virtue to erudition, and honour to genius; who have illuminated the world by their knowledge, and reformed it by example.
Footnotes: 1. Wood, ubi supra. 2. Athen. Oxon. p. 251.
* * * * *
Sir ASTON COKAINE,
A gentleman who lived in the reign of Charles I. He was son of Thomas Cokaine, esq; and descended from a very ancient family at Ambourne in the Peak of Derbyshire; born in the year 1608, and educated at both the universities[1]. Mr. Langbaine observes, that Sir Aston's predecessors had some evidence to prove themselves allied to William the Conqueror, and in those days lived at Hemmingham Castle in Essex. He was a fellow-commoner at Trinity College in Cambridge, as he himself confesseth in one of his books. After he had left the university, he went to the Inns of Court, where continuing awhile for fashion's sake, he travelled afterwards with Sir Kenelm Digby into France, Italy, Germany, &c. and was absent the space of twelve years, an account of which he has written to his son[2], but it does not appear to have been printed. He lived the greatest part of his time in a lordship belonging to him called Pooley, in the parish of Polesworth in Warwickshire, and addicted himself much to books and the study of poetry. During the civil wars he suffered much for his religion, which was that of Rome, and the King's cause; he pretended then to be a baronet, created by King Charles I. after by violence he had been drawn from the Parliament, about June 10, 1641; yet he was not deemed so by the officers of the army, because no patent was enrolled to justify it, nor any mention of it made in the docquet books belonging to the clerk of the crown in Chancery, where all Patents are taken notice of which pass the Great Seal. Sir Aston was esteemed by some a good poet, and was acknowledged by all a great lover of the polite arts; he was addicted to extravagance; for he wasted all he had, which, though he suffered in the civil wars, he was under no necessity of doing from any other motive but profusion.
Amongst our author's other poetical productions, he has written three plays and a masque, which are in print, which we shall give in the same order with Mr. Langbaine.
1. A Masque, presented at Bretbie in Derbyshire, on Twelfth-Night 1639. This Entertainment was presented before the Right Honourable Philip, first Earl of Chesterfield, and his Countess, two of their sons acting in it.
2. The Obstinate Lady, a Comedy, printed in 8vo. London 1650. Langbaine observes, that Sir Aston's Obstinate Lady, seems to be a cousin Jerman to Massinger's Very Woman, as appears by comparing the characters.
3. The Tragedy of Ovid, printed in 8vo. 1669. 'I know not (says Mr. Langbaine) why the author calls this Ovid's Tragedy, except that he lays the scene in Tomos, and makes him fall down dead with grief, at the news he received from Rome, in sight of the audience, otherwise he has not much business on the stage, and the play ought rather to have taken the name of Bassane's Jealousy, and the dismal Effects thereof, the Murder of his new Bride Clorina, and his Friend Pyrontus.'
4. Trapolin creduto Principe, or Trapolin supposed a Prince, an Italian Tragi-Comedy, printed in 8vo. London 1658. The design of this play is taken from one he saw acted at Venice, during his abode in that city; it has been since altered by Mr. Tate, and acted at the Theatre in Dorset-Garden; it is now acted under the title of Duke and No Duke.
He has written besides his plays,
What he calls a Chain of Golden Poems, embellished with Mirth, Wit, and Eloquence. Another title put to these runs thus: Choice Poems of several sorts; Epigrams in three Books. He translated into English an Italian Romance, called Dianea, printed at London 1654.
Sir Aston died at Derby, upon the breaking of the great Frost in February 1683, and his body being conveyed to Polesworth in Warwickshire beforementioned, was privately buried there in the chancel of the church. His lordship of Pooley, which had belonged to the name of Cokaine from the time of King Richard II. was sold several years before he died, to one Humphrey Jennings, esq; at which time our author reserved an annuity from it during life. The lordship of Ambourne also was sold to Sir William Boothby, baronet. There is an epigram of his, directed to his honoured friend Major William Warner, which we shall here transcribe as a specimen of his poetry, which the reader will perceive is not very admirable.
Plays, eclogues, songs, a satyr I have writ, A remedy for those i' th' amorous fit: Love elegies, and funeral elegies, Letters of things of diverse qualities, Encomiastic lines to works of some, A masque, and an epithalamium, Two books of epigrams; all which I mean Shall in this volume come upon the scene; Some divine poems, which when first I came To Cambridge, I writ there, I need not name. Of Dianea, neither my translation, Omitted here, as of another fashion. For Heaven's sake name no more, you say I cloy you; I do obey you; therefore friend God b'wy you.
Footnotes: 1. Athen. Oxon. p. 756, vol. ii. 2. Wood, ubi supra.
* * * * *
Sir GEORGE WHARTON
Was descended of an ancient family in Westmoreland, and born at Kirby-Kendal in that county, the 4th of April 1617, spent some time at Oxford, and had so strong a propensity to the study of astronomy and mathematics, that little or no knowledge of logic and philosophy was acquired by him[1]. After this, being possesed of some patrimony, he retired from the university, and indulged his genius, till the breaking out of the civil wars, when he grew impatient of sollitude, and being of very loyal principles turned all his inheritance into money, and raised for his Majesty a gallant troop of horse, of which he himself was captain.
After several generous hazards of his person, he was routed, about the 21st of March 1645, near Stow on the Would in Glouceste[r]shire, where Sir Jacob Astley was taken prisoner, and Sir George himself received several scars of honour, which he carried to his grave[2]. After this he retired to Oxford the then residence of the King, and had in recompence of his losses an employment conferred upon him, under Sir John Heydon, then lieutenant-general of the ordnance, which was to receive and pay off money, for the service of the magazine, and artillery; at which time Sir Edward Sherborne was commissary-general of it. It was then, that at leisure hours he followed his studies, was deemed a member of Queen's-College, being entered among the students there, and might with other officers have had the degree of master of arts conferred on him by the members of the venerable convocation, but neglected it. After the surrender of the garrison of Oxford, from which time, the royal cause daily declined, our author was reduced to live upon expedients; he came to London, and in order to gain a livelihood, he wrote several little things, which giving offence to those in power, he was seized on, and imprisoned, first in the Gatehouse, then in Newgate, and at length in Windsor Castle, at which time, when he expected the fevered stroke of an incensed party to fall upon him, he found William Lilly, who had formerly been his antagonist, now his friend, whose humanity and tenderness, he amply repaid after the restoration, when he was made treasurer and paymaster of his Majesty's ordnance, and Lilly stood proscribed as a rebel. Sir George who had formerly experienced the calamity of want, and having now an opportunity of retrieving his fortune, did not let it slip, but so improved it, that he was able to purchase an estate, and in recompence of his stedfast suffering and firm adherence to the cause of Charles I. and the services he rendered Charles II. he was created a baronet by patent, dated 31st of December 1677.
Sir George was esteemed, what in those days was called, a good astrologer, and Wood calls him, in his usual quaint manner, a thorough paced loyalist, a boon companion, and a waggish poet. He died in the year 1681, at his house at Enfield in Middlesex, and left behind him the name of a loyal subject, and an honest man, a generous friend, and a lively wit.
We shall now enumerate his works, and are sorry we have not been able to recover any of his poems in order to present the reader with a specimen. Such is commonly the fate of temporary wit, levelled at some prevailing enormity, which is not of a general nature, but only subsists for a while. The curiosity of posterity is not excited, and there is little pains taken in the preservation of what could only please at the time it was written.
His works are
Hemeroscopions; or Almanacks from 1640 to 1666, printed all in octavo, in which, besides the Gesta Britannorum of that period, there is a great deal of satirical poetry, reflecting on the times.
Mercurio-cælico Mastix; or an Anti caveat to all such as have had the misfortune to be cheated and deluded by that great and traiterous impostor, John Booker, in answer to his frivolous pamphlet, entitled, Mercurius Cælicus; or, a Caveat to the People of England, Oxon. 1644, in twelve sheets in 4to.
England's Iliads in a Nutshell; or a Brief Chronology of the Battles, Sieges, Conflicts, &c. from December 1641, to the 25th of March 1645, printed Oxon. 1645.
An Astrological Judgment upon his Majesty's present March, begun from Oxon. 7th of May 1645 printed in 4to.
Bellum Hybernicale; or Ireland's War, Astrologically demonstrated from the late Celestial Congress of two Malevolent Planets, Saturn and Mars, in Taurus, the ascendant of that kingdom, &c. printed 1647, 40.
Merlini Anglici Errata; or the Errors, Mistakes, &c. of Mr. William Lilly's new Ephemeris for 1647, printed 1647.
Mercurius Elenictus; communicating the unparallelled Proceedings at Westminster, the head quarters, and other places, printed by stealth in London.
This Mercury which began the 29th of October came out sheet by sheet every week in 4to. and continuing interruptedly till the 4th of April 1649, it came out again with No. 1, and continued till towards the end of that year. Mr. Wood says, he has seen several things that were published under the name of Mercurius Elenictus; particularly the Anatomy of Westminster Juncto; or a summary of their Designs against the King and City, printed 1648 in one sheet and a half, 4to. and also the first and second part of the Last Will and Testament of Philip Earl of Pembroke, &c. printed 1649; but Mr. Wood is not quite positive whether Wharton is the author of them or no.
A Short Account of the Fasts and Festivals, as well of the Jews as Christians, &c.
The Cabal of the Twelve Houses astrological, from Morinus, written 1659; and approved by William Oughtred.
A learned and useful Discourse teaching the right observation, and keeping of the holy feast of Easter, &c. written 1665.
Apotelesma; or the Nativity of the World, and revolution thereof.
A Short Discourse of Years, Months, and Days of Years.
Something touching the Nature of Eclipses, and also of their Effects.
Of the Crises in Diseases, &c.
Of the Mutations, Inclinations, and Eversions, &c.
Discourse of the Names, Genius, Species, &c. of all Comets.
Tracts teaching how Astrology may be restored from Marinus.
Secret Multiplication of the Effects of the Stars, from Cardan.
Sundry Rules, shewing by what laws the Weather is governed, and how to discover the Various Alterations of the same.
He also translated from Latin into English the Art of divining by Lines and Signatures, engraven in the Hand of Man, written by John Rockman, M.D. Lond. 1652, 8vo.
This is sometimes called Wharton's Chiromancy.
Most of these foregoing treatises were collected and published together, anno 1683, in 8vo, by John Gadbury; together with select poems, written and published during the civil wars.
Footnotes: 1. Wood Athen Oxon. v. ii. 2. Wood, ubi supra.
* * * * *
ANNE KILLEGREW.
This amiable young lady, who has been happy in the praises of Dryden, was daughter of Dr. Henry Killegrew, master of the Savoy, and one of the prebendaries of Westminster. She was born in St. Martin's-Lane in London, a little before the restoration of King Charles II. and was christened in a private chamber, the offices of the Common prayer not being then publickly allowed. She gave the earliest discoveries of a great genius, which being improved by the advantage of a polite education, she became eminent in the arts of poetry and painting, and had her life been prolonged, she might probably have excelled most of the prosession in both[1]. Mr. Dryden is quite lavish in her praise; and we are assured by other cotemporary writers of good probity, that he has done no violence to truth in the most heightened strains of his panegyric: let him be voucher for her skill in poetry.
Art she had none, yet wanted none, For nature did that art supply, So rich in treasures of her own, She might our boasted stores defy; Such noble vigour did her verse adorn, That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born.
That great poet is pleased to attribute to her every poetical excellence. Speaking of the purity and chastity of her compositions, he bestows on them this commendation,
Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd, } Unmix'd with foreign filth and undefil'd; } Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. }
She was a great proficient in the art of painting, and drew King James II, and his Queen; which pieces are also highly applauded by Mr. Dryden. She drew several history pieces, also some portraits for her diversion, exceeding well, and likewise some pieces of still life.
Those engaging and polite accomplishments were the least of her perfections; for she crowned all with an exemplary piety, and unblemished virtue. She was one of the maids of honour to the Duchess of York, and died of the small-pox in the very flower of her age, to the unspeakable grief of her relations and acquaintance, on the 16th day of June 1685, in her 25th year.
On this occasion, Mr. Dryden's muse put on a mournful habit, and in one of the most melting elegiac odes that ever was written, has consigned her to immortality.
In the eighth stanza he does honour to another female character, whom he joins with this sweet poetess.
Now all those charms, that blooming grace, The well-proportion'd shape, and beauteous face, Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes; In earth, the much lamented virgin lies! Not wit, nor piety could fate prevent; Nor was the cruel destiny content To finish all the murder at a blow, To sweep at once her life, and beauty too; But like a hardened felon took a pride To work more mischievously flow, And plundered first, and then destroy'd. O! double sacrilege, on things divine, To rob the relique, and deface the shrine!
But thus Orinda died;
Heav'n by the same disease did both translate, As equal was their souls, so equal was their fate.
Miss Killegrew was buried in the chancel of St. Baptist's chapel in the Savoy hospital, on the North side of which is a very neat monument of marble and free-stone fixed in the wall, with a Latin inscription, a translation of which into English is printed before her poems.
The following verses of Miss Killegrew's were addressed to Mrs. Philips.
Orinda (Albion, and her sex's grace) Ow'd not her glory to a beauteous face. It was her radiant soul that shone within, Which struck a lustre thro' her outward skin; That did her lips and cheeks with roses dye, Advanc'd her heighth, and sparkled in her eye. Nor did her sex at all obstruct her fame. But high'r 'mongst the stars it fixt her name; What she did write, not only all allow'd, But evr'y laurel, to her laurel bow'd!
Soon after her death, her Poems were published in a large thin quarto, to which Dryden's ode in praise of the author is prefixed.
Footnote: 1. Ballard's Memoirs of Learned Ladies.
* * * * *
NAT. LEE.
This eminent dramatic poet was the son of a clergyman of the church of England, and was educated at Westminster school under Dr. Busby. After he left this school, he was some time at Trinity College, Cambridge; whence returning to London, he went upon the stage as an actor.
Very few particulars are preserved concerning Mr. Lee. He died before he was 34 years of age, and wrote eleven tragedies, all of which contain the divine enthusiasm of a poet, a noble fire and elevation, and the tender breathings of love, beyond many of his cotemporaries. He seems to have been born to write for the Ladies; none ever felt the passion of love more intimately, none ever knew to describe it more gracefully, and no poet ever moved the breasts of his audience with stronger palpitations, than Lee. The excellent Mr. Addison, whose opinion in a matter of this sort, is of the greatest weight, speaking of the genius of Lee, thus proceeds[1]. "Among our modern English poets, there is none who was better turned for tragedy than our author; if instead of favouring the impetuosity of his genius, he had restrained it, and kept it within proper bounds. His thoughts are wonderfully suited for tragedy; but frequently lost in such a cloud of words, that it is hard to see the beauty of them. There is an infinite fire in his works, but so involved in smoke, that it does not appear in half its lustre. He frequently succeeds in the passionate part of the tragedy; but more particularly where he slackens his efforts, and eases the stile of those epithets and metaphors in which he so much abounds."
It is certain that our author for some time was deprived of his senses, and was confined in Bedlam; and as Langbaine observes, it is to be regretted, that his madness exceeded that divine fury which Ovid mentions, and which usually accompany the best poets.
Est Deus in nobus agitante calescimus illo.
His condition in Bedlam was far worse; in a Satire on the Poets it is thus described,
There in a den remov'd from human eyes, Possest with muse, the brain-sick poet lies, Too miserably wretched to be nam'd; For plays, for heroes, and for passion fam'd: Thoughtless he raves his sleepless hours away In chains all night, in darkness all the day. And if he gets some intervals from pain, } The fit returns; he foams and bites his chain, } His eye-balls roll, and he grows mad again. }
The reader may please to observe, the two last lines are taken from Lee himself in his description of madness in Cæsar Borgia, which is inimitable. Dryden has observed, that there is a pleasure in being mad, which madmen only know, and indeed Lee has described the condition in such lively terms, that a man can almost imagine himself in the situation,
To my charm'd ears no more of woman tell, Name not a woman, and I shall be well: Like a poor lunatic that makes his moan, And for a while beguiles his lookers on; He reasons well.--His eyes their wildness lose He vows the keepers his wrong'd sense abuse. But if you hit the cause that hurt his brain, } Then his teeth gnash, he foams, he shakes his chain, } His eye-balls roll, and he is mad again. }
If we may credit the earl of Rochester, Mr. Lee was addicted to drinking; for in a satire of his, in imitation of Sir John Suckling's Session of the Poets, which, like the original, is destitute of wit, poetry, and good manners, he charges him with it.
The lines, miserable as they are, we shall insert;
Nat. Lee stept in next, in hopes of a prize; Apollo remembring he had hit once in thrice: By the rubies in's face, he could not deny, But he had as much wit as wine could supply; Confess'd that indeed he had a musical note, But sometimes strain'd so hard that it rattled in the throat; Yet own'd he had sense, and t' encourage him for't He made him his Ovid in Augustus's court.
The testimony of Rochester indeed is of no great value, for he was governed by no principles of honour, and as his ruling passion was malice, he was ready on all occasions to indulge it, at the expence of truth and sincerity. We cannot ascertain whether our author wrote any of his plays in Bedlam, tho' it is not improbable he might have attempted something that way in his intervals.
Mad people have often been observed to do very ingenious things. I have seen a ship of straw, finely fabricated by a mad ship-builder; and the most lovely attitudes have been represented by a mad statuary in his cell.
Lee, for aught we know, might have some noble flights of fancy, even in Bedlam; and it is reported of him, that while he was writing one of his scenes by moon-light, a cloud intervening, he cried out in ecstasy, "Jove snuff the Moon;" but as this is only related upon common report, we desire no more credit may be given to it, than its own nature demands. We do not pretend notwithstanding our high opinion of Lee, to defend all his rants and extravagancies; some of them are ridiculous, some bombast, and others unintelligible; but this observation by no means holds true in general; for tho' some passages are too extravagant, yet others are nobly sublime, we had almost said, unequalled by any other poet.
As there are not many particulars preserved of Lee's life, we think ourselves warranted to enlarge a little upon his works; and therefore we beg leave to introduce to our reader's acquaintance a tragedy which perhaps he has not for some time heard of, written by this great man, viz. Lucius Junius Brutus, the Father of his country.
We mention this tragedy because it is certainly the finest of Lee's, and perhaps one of the most moving plays in our language. Junius Brutus engages in the just defence of the injured rights of his country, against Tarquin the Proud; he succeeds in driving him out of Rome. His son Titus falls in love, and interchanges vows with the tyrant's daughter; his father commands him not to touch her, nor to correspond with her; he faithfully promises; but his resolutions are baffled by the insinuating and irresistible charms of Teraminta; he is won by her beauties; he joins in the attempt to restore Tarquin; the enterprize miscarries, and his own father sits in judgment upon him, and condemns him to suffer.
The interview between the father and son is inexpressibly moving, and is only exceeded by that between the son and his Teraminta. Titus is a young hero, struggling between love and duty. Teraminta an amiable Roman lady, fond of her husband, and dutiful to her father.
There are throughout this play, we dare be bold to affirm, as affecting scenes as ever melted the hearts of an audience. Why it is not revived, may be difficult to account for. Shall we charge it to want of taste in the town, or want of discernment in the managers? or are our present actors conscious that they may be unequal to some of the parts in it? yet were Mr. Quin engaged, at either theatre, to do the author justice in the character of Brutus, we are not wanting in a Garrick or a Barry, to perform the part of Titus; nor is either stage destitute of a Teraminta. This is one of those plays that Mr. Booth proposed to revive (with some few alterations) had he lived to return to the stage: And the part of Brutus was what he purposed to have appeared in.
As to Lee's works, they are in every body's hands, so that we need not trouble the reader with a list of them.
In his tragedy of the Rival Queens, our author has shewn what he could do on the subject of Love; he has there almost exhausted the passion, painted it in its various forms, and delineated the workings of the human soul, when influenced by it.
He makes Statira thus speak of Alexander.
Not the spring's mouth, nor breath of Jessamin, Nor Vi'lets infant sweets, nor op'ning buds Are half so sweet as Alexander's breast! From every pore of him a perfume falls, He kisses softer than a Southern wind Curls like a Vine, and touches like a God! Then he will talk! good Gods! how he will talk! Even when the joy he sigh'd for is possess'd, He speaks the kindest words, and looks such things, Vows with such passion, swears with so much grace That 'tis a kind of Heaven to be deluded by him. If I but mention him the tears will fall, Sure there is not a letter in his name, But is a charm to melt a woman's eyes.
His Tragedy of Theodosius, or the Force of Love, is the only play of Lee's that at present keeps possession of the stage, an argument, in my opinion, not much in favour of our taste, that a Genius should be so neglected.
It is said, that Lee died in the night, in the streets, upon a frolic, and that his father never assisted him in his frequent and pressing necessity, which he was able to do. It appears that tho' Lee was a player, yet, for want of execution, he did not much succeed, though Mr. Cibber says, that he read excellently, and that the players used to tell him, unless they could act the part as he read it, they could not hope success, which, it seems, was not the case with Dryden, who could hardly read to be understood. Lee was certainly a man of great genius; when it is considered how young he died, he performed miracles, and had he lived 'till his fervour cooled, and his judgment strengthened, which might have been the consequence of years, he would have made a greater figure in poetry than some of his contemporaries, who are now placed in superior rank.
Footnote: 1. Spectator. No. 39, vol. 1st.
* * * * *
SAMUEL BUTLER,
The celebrated author of Hudibras, was born at Strensham in Worcestershire, 1612; His father, a reputable country farmer, perceiving in his son an early inclination to learning, sent him for education to the free-school of Worcester, under the care of Mr. Henry Bright, where having laid the foundation of grammar learning, he was sent for some time to Cambridge, but was never matriculated in that university[1]. After he had resided there six or seven years, he returned to his native county, and became clerk to Mr. Jefferys of Earl's-Croom, an eminent justice of the peace for that county, with whom he lived for some years, in an easy, though, for such a genius, no very reputable service; during which time, through the indulgence of a kind master, he had sufficient leisure to apply himself to his favourite studies, history and poetry, to which, for his diversion, he added music and painting.
The anonymous author of Butler's Life tells us, that he had seen some pictures of his drawing, which were preserved in Mr. Jefferys's family, which I mention not (says he) 'for the excellency of them, but to satisfy the reader of his early inclination to that noble art; for which also he was afterwards entirely loved by Mr. Samuel Cooper, one of the most eminent Painters of his time.' Wood places our poet's improvement in music and painting, to the time of his service under the countess of Kent, by whose patronage he had not only the opportunity of consulting all kinds of books, but conversing also with the great Mr. Selden, who has justly gained the epithet of a living library of learning, and was then conversant in that lady's family, and who often employed our poet to write letters beyond sea, and translate for him. He lived some time also with Sir Samuel Luke, a gentleman of a good family in Bedfordshire, and a famous commander under Oliver Cromwel.
Much about this time he wrote (says the author of his Life) 'the renowned Hudibras; as he then had opportunities of conversing with the leaders of that party, whose religion he calls hypocrisy, whose politics rebellion, and whose speeches nonsense;' he was of an unshaken loyalty, though he was placed in the house of a rebel, and it is generally thought, that under the character of Hudibras, he intended to ridicule Sir Samuel Luke. After the restoration of Charles II. he was made secretary to the earl of Carbury, lord president of the principality of Wales, who appointed him steward of Ludlow Castle, when the court was revived there; and about this time he married one Mrs. Herbert, a gentlewoman of very good family. Anthony Wood says, she was a widow, and that Butler supported himself by her jointure; for though in his early years he had studied the common law, yet he had made no advantage by the practice of it; but others assert, that she was not a widow, and that though she had a competent fortune, it proved of little or no advantage to Butler, as most of it was unfortunately lost by being put out on bad security. Mr. Wood likewise says, that he was secretary to the duke of Buckingham, when that lord was chancellor of the university of Cambridge, and the life writer assures us he had a great kindness for him: but the late ingenious major Richardson Pack tells a story, which, if true, overthrows both their assertions, and as it is somewhat particular, we shall give it a place here. Mr. Wycherley had taken every opportunity to represent to his grace the duke of Buckingham, how well Mr. Butler had deserved of the Royal Family, by writing his inimitable Hudibras, and that it was a reproach to the court, that a person of his loyalty and wit should languish in obscurity, under so many wants. The duke seemed always to hearken to him with attention, and, after some time, undertook to recommend his pretentions to his Majesty. Mr. Wycherly, in hopes to keep him steady to his word, obtained of his Grace to name a day, when he might introduce that modest, unfortunate poet to his new patron; at last an appointment was made, Mr. Butler and his friend attended accordingly, the duke joined them. But, as the devil would have it (says the major) 'the door of the room, where he sat, was open, and his Grace, who had seated himself near it, observing a pimp of his acquaintance (the creature too was a knight) trip by with a brace of ladies, immediately quitted his engagement to follow another kind of business, at which he was more ready, than at doing good offices to men of desert, though no one was better qualified than he, both in regard to his fortune, and understanding to protect them, and from that hour to the day of his death, poor Butler never found the least effect of his promise, and descended to the grave oppressed with want and poverty.'
The excellent lord Buckhurst, the late earl of Dorset and Middlesex, was a friend to our poet, who, as he was a man of wit and parts himself, knew how to set a just value on those who excelled. He had also promises of places and employment from lord chancellor Clarendon, but, as if poor Butler had been doomed to misfortunes, these proved[2] meer court promises. Mr. Butler in short, affords a remarkable instance of that coldness and neglect, which great genius's often experience from the court and age in which they live; we are told indeed by a gentleman, whose father was intimate with Butler, Charles Longueville, Esq; that Charles II. once gave him a gratuity of three hundred pounds, which had this compliment attending it, that it passed all the offices without any fee, lord Danby being at that time high treasurer, which seems to be the only court favour he ever received; a strange instance of neglect! when we consider King Charles was so excessive fond of this poem of Hudibras; that he carried it always in his pocket, he quoted it almost on every occasion, and never mentioned it, but with raptures.
This is movingly represented in a poem of our author's, published in his remains called Hudibras at Court. He takes occasion to justify his poem, by hinting its excellences in general, and paying a few modest compliments to himself, of which we shall transcribe the following lines.
Now you must know, sir Hudibras, With such perfections gifted was, And so peculiar in his manner, That all that saw him did him honour; Amongst the rest, this prince was one, Admired his conversation: This prince, whose ready wit, and parts Conquer'd both men and women's hearts; Was so o'ercome with knight and Ralph, That he could never claw it off. He never eat, nor drank, nor slept, But Hudibras still near him kept; Nor would he go to church or so, But Hudibras must with him go; Nor yet to visit concubine, Or at a city feast to dine, But Hudibras must still be there, Or all the fat was in the fire. Now after all was it not hard, That he should meet with no reward, That fitted out the knight and squire, This monarch did so much admire? That he should never reimburse The man for th' equipage and horse, Is sure a strange ungrateful thing In any body, but a King. But, this good King, it seems was told By some, that were with him too bold, If e'er you hope to gain your ends, Caress your foes, and trust your friends. Such were the doctrines that were taught, 'Till this unthinking King was brought To leave his friends to starve and die; A poor reward for loyalty.
After having lived to a good old age, admired by all, though personally known but to few, he died September 25, 1680, and was buried at the expence of his good friend Mr. Longueville of the Temple, in the church-yard of St. Paul's Covent-Garden. Mr. Longueville had a strong inclination to have him buried in Westminster Abbey, and spoke with that view to several persons who had been his admirers, offering to pay his part, but none of them would contribute; upon which he was interred privately, Mr. Longueville, and seven or eight more, following him to the grave. Mr. Alderman Barber erected a monument to Butler in Westminster-Abbey.
The poem entitled Hudibras, by which he acquired so high a reputation, was published at three different times; the first part came out in 1668 in 8vo. afterwards came out the second part, and both were printed together, with several additions, and annotations; at last, the third and last part was published, but without any annotations, as appears by the printed copy 1678. The great success and peculiarity of manner of this poem has produced many unsuccessful imitations of it, and some vain attempts have been made to translate some parts of it into Latin. Monsieur Voltaire gives it a very good character, and justly observes, that though there are as many thoughts as words in it, yet it cannot be successfully translated, on account of every line's having some allusion to English affairs, which no foreigner can be supposed to understand, or enter into. The Oxford antiquary ascribes to our author two pamphlets, supposed falsely, he says, to be William Prynne's; the one entitled Mola Asinaria, or the Unreasonable and Insupportable Burthen pressed upon the Shoulders of this Groaning Nation, London 1659, in one sheet 4to. the other, Two Letters: One from John Audland, a Quaker, to William Prynne; the other, Prynne's Answer, in three sheets fol. 1672. The life writer mentions a small poem in one sheet in 4to. on Du Val, a notorious highwayman, said to be written by Butler. These pieces, with a great many others, are published together, under the title of his Posthumous Works. The life writer abovementioned has preserved a fragment of Mr. Butler's, given by one whom he calls the ingenious Mr. Aubrey, who assured him he had it from the poet himself; it is indeed admirable, and the satire sufficiently pungent against the priests.
No jesuit e'er took in hand To plant a church in barren land; Nor ever thought it worth the while A Swede or Russ to reconcile. For where there is no store of wealth, Souls are not worth the charge of health. Spain in America had two designs: To sell their gospel for their mines: For had the Mexicans been poor, No Spaniard twice had landed on their shore. 'Twas gold the Catholic religion planted, Which, had they wanted gold, they still had wanted.
Mr. Dryden[3] and Mr. Addison[4] have joined in giving testimony against our author, as to the choice of his verse, which they condemn as boyish and being apt to degenerate into the doggrel; but while they censure his verse, they applaud his matter, and Dryden observes, that had he chose any other verse, he would even then have excelled; as we say of a court favourite, that whatever his office be, he still makes it uppermost, and most beneficial to him.
We cannot close the life of this great man, without a reflection on the degeneracy of those times, which suffered him to languish in obscurity; and though he had done more against the Puritan interest, by exposing it to ridicule, than thousands who were rioting at court with no pretensions to favour, yet he was never taken notice of, nor had any calamity redressed, which leaves a stain on those who then ruled, that never can be obliterated. A minister of state seldom fails to reward a court tool, and a man of pleasure pays his instruments for their infamy, and what character must that ministration bear, who allow wit, loyalty and virtue to pass neglected, and, as Cowley pathetically expresses it,
'In that year when manna rained on all, why should the muses fleece be only dry.'
The following epigram is not unworthy [of] a place here.
Whilst Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, No gen'rous patron would a dinner give; But lo behold! when dead, the mould'ring dust, Rewarded with a monumental bust! A poet's fate, in emblem here is shewn, He ask'd for bread, and he received--a stone.
Footnotes: 1. Life of Butler, p 6. 2. Posthumous Works of Wycherly, published by Mr. Theobald. 3. Juv. Ded. 4. Spect. No. 6. Vol. i.
* * * * *
EDMUND WALLER Esq;
Was descended of a family of his name in Buckinghamshire, a younger branch of the Wallers of Kent. He was born March 3, 1605 at Coleshill, which gives Warwickshire the honour of his birth. His father dying when he was very young, the care of his education fell to his mother, who sent him to Eton School, according to the author of his life, but Mr. Wood says, 'that he was mostly educated in grammaticals under one Dobson, minister of Great Wycombe in Bucks, who had been educated in Eton school,' without mentioning that Mr. Waller had been at all at Eton school: after he had acquired grammar learning, he was removed to King's college in Cambridge, and it is manifest that he must have been extremely assiduous in his studies, since he acquired so fine a taste of the ancients, in so short a time, for at sixteen or seventeen years of age, he was chosen into the last Parliament of King James I. and served as Burgess for Agmondesham.
In the year 1623, when Prince Charles nearly escaped being cast away in the road of St. Andre, coming from Spain, Mr. Waller wrote a Poem on that occasion, at an age when, generally speaking, persons of the acutest parts just begin to shew themselves, and at a time when the English poetry had scarce any grace in it. In the year 1628 he addressed a Poem to his Majesty, on his hearing the news of the duke of Buckingham's death, which, with the former, procured him general admiration: harmony of numbers being at that time so great a novelty, and Mr. Waller having, at once, so polished and refined versification, it is no wonder that he enjoyed the felicity of an universal applause. These poems recommended him to court-favour, and rendered him dear to persons of the best taste and distinction that then flourished. A Writer of his life observes, as a proof of his being much caressed by people of the first reputation, that he was one of the famous club, of which the great lord Falkland, Sir Francis Wainman, Mr. Chillingworth, Mr. Godolphin, and other eminent men were members. These were the immortals of that age, and to be associated with them, is one of the highest encomiums which can possibly be bestowed, and exceeds the most laboured strain of a panegyrist.
A circumstance related of this club, is pretty remarkable: One evening, when they were convened, a great noise was heard in the street, which not a little alarmed them, and upon enquiring the cause, they were told, that a son of Ben Johnson's was arrested. This club was too generous to suffer the child of one, who was the genuine son of Apollo, to be carried to a Jail, perhaps for a trifle: they sent for him, but in place of being Ben Johnson's son, he proved to be Mr. George Morley, afterwards bishop of Winchester. Mr. Waller liked him so well, that he paid the debt, which was no less than one hundred pounds, on condition that he would live with him at Beconsfield, which he did eight or ten years together, and from him Mr. Waller used to say, that he learned a taste of the ancient poets, and got what he had of their manner. But it is evident from his poems, written before this incident of Mr. Morley's arrest, that he had early acquired that exquisite Spirit; however, he might have improved it afterwards, by the conversation and assistance of Mr. Morley, to whom this adventure proved very advantageous.
It is uncertain, at what time our author was married, but, it is supposed, that his first wife Anne, daughter and heir of Edward Banks, esq; was dead before he fell in love with lady Dorothy Sidney, daughter to the earl of Leicester, whom he celebrates under the name of Sacharissa. Mr. Waller's passion for this lady, has been the subject of much conversation; his verses, addressed to her, have been renowned for their delicacy, and Sacharissa has been proposed, as a model to succeeding poets, in the celebration of their mistresses. One cannot help wishing, that the poet had been as successful in his Addresses to her, as he has been in his love-strains, which are certainly the sweetest in the world. The difference of station, and the pride of blood, perhaps, was the occasion, that Sacharissa never became the wife of Waller; though in reality, as Mr. Waller was a gentleman, a member of parliament, and a person of high reputation, we cannot, at present, see so great a disproportion: and, as Mr. Waller had fortune, as well as wit and poetry, lord Leicester's daughter could not have been disgraced by such an alliance. At least we are sure of one thing, that she lives for ever in Waller's strains, a circumstance, which even her beauty could not have otherwise procured, nor the lustre of the earl of Sunderland, whom she afterwards married: the countess of Sunderland, like the radiant circles of that age, long before this time would have slept in oblivion, but the Sacharissa of Waller is consigned to immortality, and can never die but with poetry, taste, and politeness.
Upon the marriage of that lady to lord Spenser, afterwards earl of Sunderland, which was solemnized July 11, 1639, Mr. Waller wrote the following letter to lady Lucy Sidney, her sister, which is so full of gallantry, and so elegantly turned, that it will doubtedly give pleasure to our readers to peruse it.
MADAM,
'In this common joy at Penshurst[1], I know, none to whom complaints may come less unseasonable than to your ladyship, the loss of a bedfellow, being almost equal to that of a mistress, and therefore you ought, at least, to pardon, if you consent not to the imprecations of the deserted, which just Heaven no doubt will hear. May my lady Dorothy, if we may yet call her so, suffer as much, and have the like passion for this young lord, whom she has preferred to the rest of mankind, as others have had for her; and may his love, before the year go about, make her taste of the first curse imposed upon womankind, the pains of becoming a mother. May her first born be none of her own sex, nor so like her, but that he may resemble her lord, as much as herself. May she, that always affected silence and retirement, have the house filled with the noise and number of her children, and hereafter of her grand-children; and then may she arrive at that great curse, so much declined by fair ladies, old age; may she live to be very old, and yet seem young; be told so by her glass, and have no aches to inform her of the truth; and when she shall appear to be mortal, may her lord not mourn for her, but go hand in hand with her to that place, where we are told there is neither marrying, nor giving in marriage, that being there divorced, we may all have an equal interest in her again! my revenge being immortal, I wish all this may befall her posterity to the world's end, and afterwards! To you, madam, I wish all good things, and that this loss may, in good time, be happily supplied, with a more constant bedfellow of the other sex. Madam, I humbly kiss your hands, and beg pardon for this trouble, from
'Your ladyship's 'most humble servant, 'E. WALLER.'
He lived to converse with lady Sunderland when she was very old, but his imprecations relating to her glass did not succeed, for my lady knew she had the disease which nothing but death could cure; and in a conversation with Mr. Waller, and some other company at lady Wharton's, she asked him in raillery, 'When, Mr. Waller, will you write such fine verses upon me again?' 'Oh Madam,' said he, 'when your ladyship is as young again.'
In the year 1640, Mr. Waller was returned Burgess for Agmondesham, in which Parliament he opposed the court measures. The writer of his life observes[2], 'that an intermission of Parliaments for 12 years disgusted the nation, and the House met in no good humour to give money. It must be confessed, some late proceedings had raised such jealousies as would be sure to discover themselves, whenever the King should come to ask for a supply; and Mr. Waller was one of the first to condemn those measures. A speech he made in the House upon this occasion, printed at the end of his poems, gives us some notion of his principles as to government.' Indeed we cannot but confess he was a little too inconstant in them, and was not naturally so steady, as he was judicious; which variable temper was the cause of his losing his reputation, in a great measure, with both parties, when the nation became unhappily divided. His love to poetry, and his indolence, laid him open to the insinuations of others, and perhaps prevented his fixing so resolutely to any one party, as to make him a favourite with either. As Mr. Waller did not come up to the heighths of those who were for unlimited monarchy, so he did not go the lengths of such as would have sunk the kingdom into a commonwealth, but had so much credit at court, that in this parliament the King particularly sent to him, to second his demands of some subsidies to pay the army; and Sir Henry Vane objecting against first voting a supply, because the King would not accept it, unless it came up to his proportion; Mr. Waller spoke earnestly to Sir Thomas Jermyn, comptroller of the houshold, to save his master from the effects of so bold a falsity; for, says he, I am but a country gentleman, and cannot pretend to know the King's mind: but Sir Thomas durst not contradict the secretary; and his son the earl of St. Alban's, afterwards told Mr. Waller, that his father's cowardice ruined the King.
In the latter end of the year 1642, he was one of the commissioners appointed by the Parliament, to present their propositions for peace to his Majesty at Oxford. Mr. Whitelocke, in his Memorials, tells us, that when Mr. Waller kissed the King's hand in the garden at Christ's Church, his Majesty said to him, 'though you are last, yet you are not the worst, nor the least in our favour.' The discovery of a plot, continues Mr. Whitelocke, 'then in hand in London to betray the Parliament, wherein Mr. Waller was engaged, with Chaloner, Tomkins, and others, which was then in agitation, did manifest the King's courtship of Mr. Waller to be for that service.'
In the beginning of the year 1643, our poet was deeply engaged in the design for the reducing the city of London, and the Tower, for the service of his Majesty, which being discovered, he was imprisoned, and fined ten thousand pounds. As this is one of the most memorable circumstances in the life of Waller, we shall not pass it slightly over, but give a short detail of the rise, progress, and discovery of this plot, which issued not much in favour of Mr. Waller's reputation.
Lord Clarendon observes[3], 'that Mr. Waller was a gentleman of very good fortune and estate, and of admirable parts, and faculties of wit and eloquence, and of an intimate conversation and familiarity with those who had that reputation. He had, from the beginning of the Parliament, been looked upon by all men, as a person of very entire affections to the King's service, and to the established government of church and state; and by having no manner of relation to the court, had the more credit and interest to promote the service of it. When the ruptures grew so great between the King, and the two houses, that many of the Members withdrew from those councils, he, among the rest, absented himself, but at the time the standard was set up, having intimacy and friendship with some persons now of nearness about the King, with his Majesty's leave he returned again to London, where he spoke, upon all occasions, with great sharpness and freedom, which was not restrained, and therefore used as an argument against those who were gone upon pretence, that they were not suffered to declare their opinion freely in the House; which could not be believed, when all men knew what liberty Mr. Waller took, and spoke every day with impunity, against the proceedings of the House; this won him a great reputation with all people who wished well to the King; and he was looked upon as the boldest champion the crown had in either House, so that such Lords and Commons who were willing to prevent the ruin of the kingdom, complied in a great familiarity with him, at a man resolute in their ends, and best able to promote them; and it may be, they believed his reputation at court so good, that he would be no ill evidence there of other men's zeal and affection; so all men spoke their minds freely to him, both of the general distemper, and of the passions and ambition of particular persons, all men knowing him to be of too good a fortune, and too wary a nature, to engage himself in designs of hazard.'
Mr. Tomkins already mentioned, had married Waller's sister, and was clerk of the Queen' council, and of very good fame for honesty and ability; great interest and reputation in the city, and conversed much with those who disliked the proceedings of the Parliament, from whom he learned the dispositions of the citizens on all accidents, which he freely communicated to his brother Waller, as the latter imparted to him whatever observations he made from those with whom he conversed. Mr. Waller told him, that many lords and commons were for a peace. Mr. Tomkins made the same relation with respect to the most substantial men of London, which Mr. Waller reported to the well affected members of both houses; and Mr. Tomkins to the well affected citizens; whence they came to a conclusion, that if they heartily united in the mutual assistance of one another, they should be able to prevent those tumults which seemed to countenance the distractions, and both parties would be excited to moderation. The lord Conway at that time coming from Ireland incensed against the Scotch, discontented with the Parliament here, and finding Waller in good esteem with the earl of Nor[t]humberland, and in great friendship with the earl of Portland, entered into the same familiarity; and being a soldier, in the discourses they had, he insinuated, it was convenient to enquire into the numbers of the well affected in the city, that they might know whom they had to trust to. Mr. Waller telling Mr. Tomkins this, the latter imparted it to his confidents there; and it was agreed, that some trusty persons in every ward and parish about London should make a list of all the inhabitants, and by guessing at their several affections, compute the strength of that party which opposed an accommodation, and that which was for it.
Lord Clarendon declares, that he believes this design, was to beget such a combination among the well affected parties, that they would refuse to conform to those ordinances of the twentieth part, and other taxes for the support of the war; and thereby or by joint petitioning for peace, and discountenancing the other who petitioned against it, to prevail with the Parliament to incline to a determination of the war, 'but that there ever was, says the earl, 'any formed design either of letting the King's army into London, which was impossible to be effected, or raising an army there, and surprizing the Parliament, or any person of it, or of using any violence in, or upon the city, I could never yet see cause to believe.' But it unluckily happened, that while this combination was on foot, Sir Nicholas Crisp procured a commission of array to be sent from Oxford to London, which was carried by the lady Aubigny, and delivered to a gentleman employed by Sir Nicholas to take it of her; and this being discovered at the same time Mr. Waller's plot was, the two conspiracies were blended into one; tho' the earl of Clarendon is satisfied that they were two distinct designs. His lordship relates the discovery of Mr. Waller's plot in this manner: 'A servant of Mr. Tomkins, who had often cursorily overheard his master and Mr. Waller discourse of the subject which we are upon, placed himself behind the hangings, at a time when they were together; and there whilst either of them discovered the language and opinion of the company which they kept, overheard enough to make him believe, that his information and discovery could make him welcome to those whom he thought concerned, and so went to Mr. Pym, and acquainted him with all he had heard, or probably imagined. The time when Mr. Pym was made acquainted with it, is not known; but the circumstance of publishing it was such as filled all men with apprehensions.'
'It was on Wednesday the 31st of May, their solemn fast day, when being all at their sermon in St. Margaret's church, Westminster, according to their custom, a letter or message was brought privately to Mr. Pym; who thereupon with some of the most active members rose from their seats, and after a little whispering together, removed out of the church. This could not but exceedingly affect those who stayed behind. Immediately they sent guards to all the prisons, at Lambeth-house, Ely-house, and such places where malignants were in custody, with directions to search the prisoners, and some other places which they thought fit should be suspected. After the sermon was ended, the houses met, and were only then told, that letters were intercepted going to the King and the court at Oxford, which expressed some notable conspiracy in hand, to deliver up the Parliament and the city into the hands of the Cavaliers; and that the time for the execution of it drew near. Hereupon a committee was appointed to examine all persons they thought fit, and to apprehend some nominated at that time; and the same night this committee apprehended Mr. Waller and Mr. Tomkins, and the next day such as they suspected.'
The Houses were, or seemed to be, so alarmed with the discovery of the plot, that six days after they took a sacred vow and covenant, which was also taken by the city and army, denouncing war against the King more directly than they had done before. The earl of Portland and lord Conway were imprisoned on Mr. Waller's accusation, and often confronted with him before the committee, where they as peremptorily denying, as he charging them, and there being no other witness but him against them, they were kept a while in restraint, and then bailed. Mr. Waller, after he had had 'says the earl of Clarendon, with incredible dissimulation, acted such a remorse of conscience, that his trial was put off out of christian compassion, till he should recover his understanding (and that was not till the heat and fury of the prosecutors was abated by the sacrifices they had made) and by drawing visitants to himself of the most powerful ministers of all factions, had by his liberality and penitence, his receiving vulgar and vile sayings from them with humility and reverence, as clearer convictions, and informations than in his life he had ever had; and distributing great sums to them for their prayers and ghostly council, so satisfied them, that they satisfied others; was brought at his suit to the bar of the House of Commons on on the 4th of July 1643, where being a man in truth very powerful in language, and who, by what he spoke, and the manner of speaking it, exceedingly captivated the good will, and benevolence of his hearers, with such flattery, as was most exactly calculated to that meridian, with such a submission as their pride took delight in, and such a dejection of mind and spirit, as was like to couzen the major part. He laid before them, their own danger and concernment if they should suffer one of their body, how unworthy and monstrous soever, to be tried by the soldiers, who might thereby grow to such power hereafter, that they would both try those they would not be willing should be tried, and for things which they would account no crime, the inconvenience and insupportable mischief whereof wise commonwealths had foreseen and prevented, by exempting their own members from all judgments but their own. He prevailed, not to be tried by a Council of War, and thereby preserved his dear-bought life; so that in truth he did as much owe the keeping his head to that oration, as Cataline did the loss of his to those of Tully; and having done ill, very well, he by degrees drew that respect to his parts, which always carries some companion to the person, that he got leave to compound for his transgression and them to accept of ten thousand pounds for his liberty; whereupon he had leave to recollect himself in another country (for his liberty was to be banishment) how miserable he had made himself in obtaining that leave to live out of his own. And there cannot be a greater evidence of the inestimable value of his parts, than that he lived in the good affection and esteem of many, the pity of most, and the reproach and scorn of few, or none.'
After this storm had subsided, Mr. Waller travelled into France, where he continued several years. He took over his lady's jewels to support him, and lived very hospitably at Paris, and except that of lord Jermyn, afterwards earl of St. Alban's, who was the Queen of England's prime minister when she kept her court there, there was no English table but Mr. Waller's; which was so costly to him, that he used to say, 'he was at last come to the Rump Jewel.' Upon his return to England, such was the unsteadiness of his temper, he sided with those in power, particularly the Lord Protector, with whom he lived in great intimacy as a companion, tho' he seems not to have acted for him. He often declared that he found Cromwell very well acquainted with the Greek and Roman story; and he frequently took notice, that in the midst of their discourse, a servant has come to tell him, that such and such attended; upon which Cromwell would rise and stop them; talking at the door, where Mr. Waller could over-hear him say, 'The lord will reveal, the lord will help,' and several such expressions; which when he returned to Mr. Waller, he excused, saying, 'Cousin Waller, I must talk to these men after their own way.'
In 1654 he wrote a panegyric on Oliver Cromwell, as he did a poem on his death in 1658. At the restoration he was treated with great civility by King Charles II, who always made him one of his party in his diversions at the duke of Buckingham's, and other places, and gave him a grant of the provostship of Eaton-College; tho' that grant proved of no effect. He sat in several Parliaments after the restoration, and wrote a panegyric upon his Majesty's return, which however, was thought to fall much short of that which he before had wrote on Cromwell. The King one day asked him in raillery, 'How is it Waller, that you wrote a better encomium on Cromwell than on me.' May it please your Majesty, answered the bard, with the most admirable fineness, 'Poets generally succeed best in fiction.' Mr. Waller continued in the full vigour of his genius to the end of his life; his natural vivacity bore up against his years, and made his company agreeable to the last; which appears from the following little story.
King James II having ordered the earl of Sunderland to desire Mr. Waller to attend him one afternoon; when he came, the King carried him into his closet, and there asked him how he liked such a picture? 'Sir, says Mr. Waller, my eyes are dim, and I know not whose it is.' The King answered, 'It is the Princess of Orange;' and says Mr. Waller, 'she is like the greatest woman in the world.' 'Whom do you call so, said the King,' 'Queen Elizabeth, said he.' 'I wonder, Mr. Waller, replied the King, you should think so; but I must confess, she had a wise council;' and Sir, said Mr. Waller, 'did you ever know a Fool chuse a wise one.'
Mr. Waller died of a dropsy October 21, 1687. Finding his distemper encrease, and having yielded all hopes of recovery, he ordered his son-in-law Dr. Peter Birch, to desire all his children to join with him, and give him the sacrament. He at the same time professed himself a believer in revealed religion with great earnestness, telling them, that he remembered when the duke of Buckingham, once talked profanely before King Charles, he told him, 'My lord, I am a great deal older than your grace, and I believe I have heard more arguments for atheism, than ever your grace did; but I have lived long enough to see, there was nothing in them, and so I hope will your grace.' It is said, that had Mr. Waller lived longer, he would have inclined to the revolution, which by the violent measures of James II. he could foresee would happen. He was interred in the church-yard of Beaconsfield, where a monument is erected to his memory, the inscriptions on it were written by Mr. Thomas Rymer.
He left several children behind him: He bequeathed his estate to his second son Edmund, his eldest, Benjamin, being so far from inheriting his father's wit, that he had not a common portion. Edmund, the second Son, used to be chosen member of Parliament for Agmondesham, and in the latter part of his life turned Quaker. William, the third son, was a merchant in London, and Stephen, the fourth, a civilian. Of the daughters, Mary was married to Dr. Peter Birch, prebendary of Westminster; another to Mr. Harvey of Suffolk, another to Mr. Tipping of Oxfordshire.
These are the most material circumstances in the life of Mr. Waller, a man whose wit and parts drew the admiration of the world upon him when he was living, and has secured him the applause of posterity. As a statesman, lord Clarendon is of opinion, he wanted steadiness, and even insinuates, that he was deficient in point of honour; the earl at least construes his timidity, and apparent cowardice, in a way not very advantageous to him.
All men have honoured him as the great refiner of English poetry, who restored numbers to the delicacy they had lost, and joined to melifluent cadence the charms of sense. But as Mr. Waller is unexceptionally the first who brought in a new turn of verse, and gave to rhime all the graces of which it was capable, it would be injurious to his fame, not to present the reader with the opinions of some of the greatest men concerning him, by which he will be better able to understand his particular excellencies, and will see his beauties in full glow before him. To begin with Mr. Dryden, who, in his dedication to the Rival Ladies, addressed to the earl of Orrery, thus characterizes Waller.
'The excellency and dignity of rhime were never fully known till Mr. Waller sought it: He first made writing easily an art; first shewed us to conclude the sense most commonly in distichs, which in the verses of those before him, runs on for so many lines together, that the reader is out of breath to overtake it.'
Voltaire, in his letters concerning the English nation, speaking of British poets, thus mentions Waller. 'Our author was much talked of in France. He had much the same reputation in London that Voiture had in Paris; and in my opinion deserved it better. Voiture was born in an age that was just emerging from barbarity; an age that was still rude and ignorant; the people of which aimed at wit, tho' they had not the least pretensions to it, and sought for points and conceits instead of sentiments. Bristol stones are more easily found than diamonds. Voiture born with an easy and frivolous genius, was the first who shone in this Aurora of French literature. Had he come into the world after those great genius's, who spread such glory over the age of Lewis XIV, he would either have been unknown, would have been despised, or would have corrected his stile. Waller, tho' better than Voiture, was not yet a finished poet. The graces breathe in such of Waller's works as are wrote in a tender strain; but then they are languid thro' negligence, and often disfigured with false thoughts. The English had not at this time attained the art of correct writing; but his serious compositions exhibit a strength and vigour, which could not have been expected from the softness and effeminacy of his other pieces.'
The anonymous author of the preface to the second part of our author's poems, printed in the year 1690, has given his character at large, and tells us; 'That Waller is a name that carries every thing in it that is either great, or graceful in poetry. He was indeed the parent of English verse, and the first who shewed us our tongue had beauty and numbers in it. The tongue came into his hands like a rough diamond; he polished it first, and to that degree, that artists since have admired the workmanship without pretending to mend it. He undoubtedly stands first in the list of refiners; and for ought I know the last too; for I question whether in Charles II's reign; the English did not come to its full perfection, and whether it had not had its Augustan age, as well as the Latin.' Thus far this anonymous author. If I may be permitted to give my opinion in so delicate a point as the reputation of Waller, I shall take the liberty to observe, that had he, in place of preceding, succeeded those great wits who flourished in the reign of Charles II, he could never have rose to such great reputation, nor would have deserved it: No small honour is due to him for the harmony which he introduced, but upon that chiefly does his reputation stand. He certainly is sometimes languid; he was rather a tender than a violent lover; he has not that force of thinking, that amazing reach of genius for which Dryden is renowned, and had it been his lot to have appeared in the reign of Queen Anne, I imagine, he would not have been ranked above the second class of poets. But be this as it may, poetry owes him the highest obligations for refining it, and every succeeding genius will be ready to acknowledge, that by copying Waller's strains, they have improved their own, and the more they follow him, the more they please.
Mr. Waller altered the Maid's Tragedy from Fletcher, and translated the first Act of the Tragedy of Pompey from the French of Corneille. Mrs. Katharine Philips, in a letter to Sir Charles Cotterell, ascribes the translation of the first act to our author; and observes, that Sir Edward Filmer did one, Sir Charles Sidley another, lord Buckhurst another; but who the fifth, says she, I cannot learn.
Mrs. Philips then proceeds to give a criticism on this performance of Waller's, shews some faults, and points out some beauties, with a spirit and candour peculiar to her.
The best edition of our author's works is that published by Mr. Fenton, London 1730, containing poems, speeches, letters, &c. In this edition is added the preface to the first edition of Mr. Waller's poems after the restoration, printed in the year 1664.
As a specimen of Mr. Waller's poetry, we shall give a transcript of his Panegyric upon Oliver Cromwell.
A Panegyric to my Lord PROTECTOR, of the present greatness and joint interest of his Highness and this Nation.
In the YEAR 1654.
While with a strong, and yet a gentle hand You bridle faction, and our hearts command, Protect us from our selves, and from the foe, Make us unite, and make us conquer too;
Let partial spirits still aloud complain, Think themselves injur'd that they cannot reign, And own no liberty, but where they may Without controul upon their fellows prey.
Above the waves as Neptune shew'd his face To chide the winds, and save the Trojan race; So has your Highness, rais'd above the rest, Storms of Ambition tossing us represt.
Your drooping country, torn with civil hate, Restor'd by you, is made a glorious state; The feat of empire, where the Irish come, And the unwilling Scotch, to fetch their doom.
The sea's our own, and now all nations greet, With bending sails, each vessel of our fleet. Your pow'r extends as far as winds can blow, Or swelling sails upon the globe may go.
Heav'n, that hath plac'd this island to give law, To balance Europe, and her states to awe, In this conjunction doth on Britain smile; The greatest leader, and the greatest isle.
Whether this portion of the world were rent By the rude ocean from the Continent, Or thus created, it was sure design'd To be the sacred refuge of mankind.
Hither th' oppressed shall henceforth resort Justice to crave, and succour at your court; And then your Highness, not for our's alone, But for the world's Protector shall be known.
Fame swifter than your winged navy flies Thro' ev'ry land that near the ocean lies, Sounding your name, and telling dreadful News To all that piracy and rapine use.
With such a chief the meanest nation blest, Might hope to lift her head above the rest: What may be thought impossible to do By us, embraced by the seas, and you?
Lords of the world's great waste, the ocean, we Whole forests send to reign upon the sea, And ev'ry coast may trouble or relieve; But none can visit us without your leave.
Angels and we have this prerogative, That none can at our happy seats arrive; While we descend at pleasure to invade The bad with vengeance, and the good to aid.
Our little world, the image of the great, Like that, amidst the boundless ocean set, Of her own growth hath all that nature craves, And all that's rare, as tribute from the waves.
As Ægypt does not on the clouds rely, But to the Nile owes more than to the sky; So what our Earth and what our heav'n denies, Our ever-constant friend the sea, supplies.
The taste of hot Arabia's spice we know, Free from the scorching sun that makes it grow; Without the worm in Persian silks we shine, And without planting drink of ev'ry vine.
To dig for wealth we weary not our limbs. Gold (tho' the heaviest Metal) hither swims: Our's is the harvest where the Indians mow, We plough the deep, and reap what others sow.
Things of the noblest kind our own soil breeds; Stout are our men, and warlike are our steeds; Rome (tho' her eagle thro' the world had flown) Cou'd never make this island all her own.
Here the third Edward, and the Black Prince too, France conq'ring Henry flourish'd, and now you; For whom we staid, as did the Grecian state, Till Alexander came to urge their fate.
When for more world's the Macedonian cry'd, He wist not Thetys in her lap did hide Another yet, a word reserv'd for you, To make more great than that he did subdue.
He safely might old troops to battle lead Against th' unwarlike Persian, and the Mede; Whose hasty flight did from a bloodless field, More spoils than honour to the visitor yield.
A race unconquer'd, by their clime made bold, The Caledonians arm'd with want and cold, Have, by a fate indulgent to your fame, Been from all ages kept for you to tame.
Whom the old Roman wall so ill confin'd, With a new chain of garrisons you bind: Here foreign gold no more shall make them come, Our English Iron holds them fast at home.
They that henceforth must be content to know No warmer region than their hills of snow, May blame the sun, but must extol your grace, Which in our senate hath allow'd them place.
Preferr'd by conquest, happily o'erthrown, Falling they rise, to be with us made one: So kind dictators made, when they came home, Their vanquish'd foes free citizens of Rome.
Like favour find the Irish, with like fate Advanc'd to be a portion of our state: While by your valour, and your bounteous mind, Nations, divided by the sea, are join'd.
Holland, to gain your friendship, is content To be our out-guard on the continent: She from her fellow-provinces wou'd go, Rather than hazard to have you her foe.
In our late fight, when cannons did diffuse (Preventing posts) the terror and the news; Our neighbour princes trembled at their roar: But our conjunction makes them tremble more.
Your never-failing sword made war to cease, And now you heal us with the acts of peace Our minds with bounty and with awe engage, Invite affection, and restrain our rage.
Less pleasure take brave minds in battles won, Than in restoring such as are undone: Tygers have courage, and the rugged bear, But man alone can whom he conquers, spare.
To pardon willing; and to punish, loath; You strike with one hand, but you heal with both. Lifting up all that prostrate lye, you grieve You cannot make the dead again to live.
When fate or error had our Age mis-led, And o'er this nation such confusion spread; The only cure which cou'd from heav'n come down, Was so much pow'r and piety in one.
One whose extraction's from an ancient line, Gives hope again that well-born men may shine: The meanest in your nature mild and good, The noble rest secured in your blood.
Oft have we wonder'd, how you hid in peace A mind proportion'd to such things as these; How such a ruling sp'rit you cou'd restrain, And practise first over your self to reign.
Your private life did a just pattern give How fathers, husbands, pious sons shou'd live; Born to command, your princely virtues slept Like humble David's while the flock he kept:
But when your troubled country call'd you forth, Your flaming courage, and your matchless worth Dazling the eyes of all that did pretend, To fierce contention gave a prosp'rous end.
Still as you rise, the state, exalted too, Finds no distemper while 'tis chang'd by you; Chang'd like the world's great scene, when without noise The rising sun night's vulgar lights destroys.
Had you, some ages past, this race of glory Run, with amazement we shou'd read your story; But living virtue, all atchievements past, Meets envy still to grapple with at last.
This Cæsar found, and that ungrateful age, With losing him, went back to blood and rage. Mistaken Brutus thought to break their yoke, But cut the bond of union with that stroke.
That sun once set, a thousand meaner stars Gave a dim light to violence and wars, To such a tempest as now threatens all, Did not your mighty arm prevent the fall.
If Rome's great senate cou'd not wield that sword Which of the conquer'd world had made them lord, What hope had our's, while yet their pow'r was new, To rule victorious armies, but by you?
You, that had taught them to subdue their foes, Cou'd order teach, and their high sp'rits compose: To ev'ry duty you'd their minds engage, Provoke their courage, and command their rage.
So when a lion shakes his dreadful mane, And angry grows; if he that first took pain To tame his youth, approach the haughty beast, He bends to him, but frights away the rest.
As the vext world, to find repose, at last Itself into Augustus' arms did cast: So England now doth, with like toil opprest, Her weary head upon your bosom rest.
Then let the muses, with such notes as these, Instruct us what belongs unto our peace; Your battles they hereafter shall indite, And draw the image of our Mars in fight;
Tell of towns storm'd, of armies overcome, Of mighty kingdoms by your conduct won, How, while you thunder'd, clouds of dust did choak Contending troops, and seas lay hid in smoke.
Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And ev'ry conqueror creates a muse; Here in low strains your milder deeds we sing, But there, my lord, we'll bays and olive bring,
To crown your head; while you in triumph ride O'er vanquish'd nations, and the sea beside: While all your neighbour princes unto you, Like Joseph's sheaves, pay reverence and bow.
Footnotes: 1. The ancient seat of the Sydneys family in Kent; now in the possession of William Perry, esq; whose lady is niece to the late Sydney, earl of Leicester. A small, but excellent poem upon this delightful seat, was published by an anonymous hand, in 1750, entitled, PENSHURST. See Monthly Review, vol. II. page 331. 2. Life, p. 8, 9. 3. History of the Rebellion, Edit. Oxon. 1707, 8vo.
* * * * *
JOHN OGILBY,
This poet, who was likewise an eminent Geographer and Cosmographer, was born near Edinburgh in the year 1600[1]. His father, who was of an ancient and genteel family, having spent his estate, and being prisoner in the King's Bench for debt, could give his son but little education at school; but our author, who, in his early years discovered the most invincible industry, obtained a little knowledge in the Latin grammar, and afterwards so much money, as not only to procure his father's discharge from prison, but also to bind himself apprentice to Mr. Draper a dancing master in Holbourn, London. Soon after, by his dexterity in his profession, and his complaisant behaviour to his master's employers, he obtained the favour of them to lend him as much money as to buy out the remaining part of his time, and set up for himself; but being afterwards appointed to dance in the duke of Buckingham's great Masque, by a false step, he strained a vein in the inside of his leg, which ever after occasioned him to halt. He afterwards taught dancing to the sisters of Sir Ralph Hopton, at Wytham in Somersetshire, where, at leisure, he learned to handle the pike and musket. When Thomas earl of Strafford became Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he was retained in his family to teach the art of dancing, and being an excellent penman, he was frequently employed by the earl to transcribe papers for him.
In his lordship's family it was that he first gave proofs of his inclination to poetry, by translating some of Æsop's Fables into English verse, which he communicated to some learned men, who understood Latin better than he, by whose assistance and advice he published them. He was one of the troop of guards belonging to the earl, and composed an humourous piece entitled the Character of a Trooper. About the time he was supported by his lordship, he was made master of the revels for the kingdom of Ireland, and built a little theatre for the representation of dramatic entertainments, in St. Warburgh's street in Dublin: but upon the breaking out of the rebellion in that kingdom, he was several times in great danger of his life, particularly when he narrowly escaped being blown up in the castle of Rathfarnam. About the time of the conclusion of the war in England, he left Ireland, and being shipwrecked, came to London in a very necessitous condition. After he had made a short stay in the metropolis, he travelled on foot to Cambridge, where his great industry, and love of learning, recommended him to the notice of several scholars, by whose assistance he became so compleat a master of the Latin tongue, that in 1646 he published an English translation of Virgil, which was printed in large 8vo. and dedicated to William marquis of Hereford. He reprinted it at London 1654 in fol. with this title; The Works of Publius Virgilius Maro, translated and adorned with Sculptures, and illustrated with Annotations; which, Mr. Wood tells us, was the fairest edition, that till then, the English press ever produced. About the year 1654 our indefatigable author learned the Greek language, and in four year's time published in fol. a translation of Homer's Iliad, adorned with excellent sculptures, illustrated with Annotations, and addressed to King Charles II. The same year he published the Bible in a large fol. at Cambridge, according to the translation set forth by the special command of King James I. with the Liturgy and Articles of the Church of England, with Chorographical Sculptures. About the year 1662 he went into Ireland, then having obtained a patent to be made master of the revels there, a place which Sir William Davenant sollicited in vain. Upon this occasion he built a theatre at Dublin, which cost him 2000 l. the former being ruined during the troubles. In 1664 he published in London, in fol. a translation of Homer's Odyssey, with Sculptures, and Notes. He afterwards wrote two heroic poems, one entitled the Ephesian Matron, the other the Roman Slave, both dedicated to Thomas earl of Ossory. The next work he composed was an Epic Poem in 12 Books, in honour of King Charles I. but this was entirely lost in the fire of London in September 1666, when Mr. Ogilby's house in White Fryars was burnt down, and his whole fortune, except to the value of five pounds, destroyed. But misfortunes seldom had any irretrievable consequences to Ogilby, for by his insinuating address, and most astonishing industry, he was soon able to repair whatever loss he sustained by any cross accident. It was not long till he fell on a method of raising a fresh sum of money. Procuring his house to be rebuilt, he set up a printing-office, was appointed his Majesty's Cosmographer and Geographic Printer, and printed many great works translated and collected by himself and his assistants, the enumeration of which would be unnecessary and tedious.
This laborious man died September 4, 1676, and was interred in the vault under part of the church in St. Bride's in Fleet-street. Mr. Edward Philips in his Theatrum Poetarum stiles him one of the prodigies, from producing, after so late an initiation into literature, so many large and learned volumes, as well in verse as in prose, and tells us, that his Paraphrase upon Æsop's Fables, is generally confessed to have exceeded whatever hath been done before in that kind.
As to our author's poetry, we have the authority of Mr. Pope to pronounce it below criticism, at least his translations; and in all probability his original epic poems which we have never seen, are not much superior to his translations of Homer and Virgil. If Ogilby had not a poetical genius, he was notwithstanding a man of parts, and made an amazing proficiency in literature, by the force of an unwearied application. He cannot be sufficiently commended for his virtuous industry, as well as his filial piety, in procuring, in so early a time of life, his father's liberty, when he was confined in a prison.
Ogilby seems indeed to have been a good sort of man, and to have recommended himself to the world by honest means, without having recourse to the servile arts of flattery, and the blandishments of falshood. He is an instance of the astonishing efficacy of application; had some more modern poets been blessed with a thousandth part of his oeconomy and industry, they needed not to have lived in poverty, and died of want. Although Ogilby cannot be denominated a genius, yet he found means to make a genteel livelihood by literature, which many of the sons of Parnassus, blessed with superior powers, curse as a very dry and unpleasing soil, but which proceeds more from want of culture, than native barrenness.
Footnote: 1. Athen Oxon. vol. ii. p. 378.
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WILMOT, Earl of ROCHESTER.
It is an observation founded on experience, that the poets have, of all other men, been most addicted to the gratifications of appetite, and have pursued pleasure with more unwearied application than men of other characters. In this respect they are indeed unhappy, and have ever been more subject to pity than envy. A violent love of pleasure, if it does not destroy, yet, in a great measure, enervates all other good qualities with which a man may be endowed; and as no men have ever enjoyed higher parts from nature, than the poets, so few, from this unhappy attachment to pleasure, have effected so little good by those amazing powers. Of the truth of this observation, the nobleman, whose memoirs we are now to present to the reader, is a strong and indelible instance, for few ever had more ability, and more frequent opportunities, for promoting the interests of society, and none ever prostituted the gifts of Heaven to a more inglorious purpose. Lord Rochester was not more remarkable for the superiority of his parts, than the extraordinary debauchery of his life, and with his dissipations of pleasure, he suffered sometimes malevolent principles to govern him, and was equally odious for malice and envy, as for the boundless gratifications of his appetites.
This is, no doubt, the character of his lordship, confirmed by all who have transmitted any account of him: but if his life was supremely wicked, his death was exemplarily pious; before he approached to the conclusion of his days, he saw the follies of his former pleasures, he lived to repent with the severest contrition, and charity obliges all men to believe that he was as sincere in his protestations of penitence, as he had been before in libertine indulgence. The apparent sorrow he felt, arising from the stings and compunctions of conscience, entitle him to the reader's compassion, and has determined us to represent his errors with all imaginable tenderness; which, as it is agreeable to every benevolent man, so his lordship has a right to this indulgence, since he obliterated his faults by his penitence, and became so conspicuous an evidence on the side of virtue, by his important declarations against the charms of vice.
Lord Rochester was son of the gallant Henry lord Wilmot, who engaged with great zeal in the service of King Charles I. during the civil wars, and was so much in favour with Charles II. that he entrusted his person to him, after the unfortunate battle of Worcester, which trust he discharged with so much fidelity and address, that the young King was conveyed out of England into France, chiefly by his care, application and vigilance. The mother of our author was of the ancient family of the St. Johns in Wiltshire, and has been celebrated both for her beauty and parts.
In the year 1648, distinguished to posterity, by the fall of Charles I. who suffered on a scaffold erected before the window of his own palace, our author was born at Dichley, near Woodstock, in the same county, the scene of many of his pleasures, and of his death. His lordship's father had the misfortune to reap none of the rewards of suffering loyalty, for he died in 1660, immediately before the restoration, leaving his son as the principal part of his inheritance, his titles, honours, and the merit of those extraordinary services he had done the crown; but though lord Wilmot left his son but a small estate, yet he did not suffer in his education by these means, for the oeconomy of his mother supplied that deficiency, and he was educated suitable to his quality. When he was at school (it is agreed by all his biographers) he gave early instances of a readiness of wit; and those shining parts which have since appeared with so much lustre, began then to shew themselves: he acquired the Latin to such perfection, that, to his dying day, he retained a great relish for the masculine firmness, as well as more elegant beauties of that language, and was, says Dr. Burnet, 'exactly versed in those authors who were the ornaments of the court of Augustus, which he read often with the peculiar delight which the greatest wits have often found in those studies.' When he went to the university, the general joy which over-ran the nation upon his Majesty's return, amounted to something like distraction, and soon spread a very malignant influence through all ranks of life. His lordship tasted the pleasures of libertinism, which then broke out in a full tide, with too acute a relish, and was almost overwhelmed in the abyss of wantonness. His tutor was Dr. Blandford, afterwards promoted to the sees of Oxford and Worcester, and under his inspection he was committed to the more immediate care of Phinehas Berry, fellow of Wadham College, a man of learning and probity, whom his lordship afterwards treated with much respect, and rewarded as became a great man; but notwithstanding the care of his tutor, he had so deeply engaged in the dissipations of the general jubilee, that he could not be prevailed upon to renew his studies, which were totally lost in the joys more agreeable to his inclination. He never thought of resuming again the pursuit of knowledge, 'till the fine address of his governor, Dr. Balfour, won him in his travels, by degrees, to those charms of study, which he had through youthful levity forsaken, and being seconded by reason, now more strong, and a more mature taste of the pleasure of learning, which the Dr. took care to place in the most agreeable and advantageous light, he became enamoured of knowledge, in the pursuit of which he often spent those hours he sometimes stole from the witty, and the fair. He returned from his travels in the 18th year of his age, and appeared at court with as great advantage as any young nobleman ever did. He had a graceful and well proportioned person, was master of the most refined breeding, and possessed a very obliging and easy manner. He had a vast vivacity of thought, and a happy flow of expression, and all who conversed with him entertained the highest opinion of his understanding; and 'tis indeed no wonder he was so much caressed at a court which abounded with men of wit, countenanced by a merry prince, who relished nothing so much as brilliant conversation.
Soon after his lordship's return from his travels, he took the first occasion that offered, to hazard his life in the service of his country.
In the winter of the year 1665 he went to sea, with the earl of Sandwich, when he was sent out against the Dutch East India fleet, and was in the ship called the Revenge, commanded by Sir Thomas Tiddiman, when the attack was made on the port of Bergen in Norway, the Dutch Ships having got into that port. It was, says Burnet, 'as desperate an attempt as ever was made, and during the whole action, the earl of Rochester shewed as brave and resolute a courage as possible. A person of honour told me he heard the lord Clifford, who was in the same ship, often magnify his courage at that time very highly; nor did the rigour of the season, the hardness of the voyage, and the extreme danger he had been in, deter him from running the like the very next occasion; for the summer following he went to sea again, without communicating his design to his nearest relations. He went aboard the ship commanded by Sir Edward Spragge, the day before the great sea-fight of that year; almost all the volunteers that went in that ship were killed. During the action, Sir Edward Spragge not being satisfied with the behaviour of one of the captains, could not easily find a person that would undertake to venture through so much danger to carry his command to the captain; this lord offered himself to the service, and went in a little boat, through all the shot, and delivered his message, and returned back to Sir Edward, which was much commended by all that saw it.' These are the early instances of courage, which can be produced in favour of lord Rochester, which was afterwards impeached, and very justly, for in many private broils, he discovered a timid pusillanimous spirit, very unsuitable to those noble instances of the contrary, which have just been mentioned.
The author of his life prefixed to his works, which goes under the name of M. St. Evremond, addressed to the Duchess of Mazarine, but which M. Maizeau asserts not to be his, accounts for it, upon the general observation of that disparity between a man and himself, upon different occasions. Let it suffice, says he, 'to observe, that we differ not from one another, more than we do from ourselves at different times.' But we imagine another, and a stronger reason may be given, for the cowardice which Rochester afterwards discovered in private broils, particularly in the affair between him and the earl of Mulgrave, in which he behaved very meanly[1]. The courage which lord Rochester shewed in a naval engagement, was in the early part of his life, before he had been immersed in those labyrinths of excess and luxury, into which he afterwards sunk. It is certainly a true observation, that guilt makes cowards; a man who is continually subjected to the reproaches of conscience, who is afraid to examine his heart, lest it should appear too horrible, cannot have much courage: for while he is conscious of so many errors to be repented of, of so many vices he has committed, he naturally starts at danger, and flies from it as his greatest enemy. It is true, courage is sometimes constitutional, and there have been instances of men, guilty of every enormity, who have discovered a large share of it, but these have been wretches who have overcome all sense of honour, been lost to every consideration of virtue, and whose courage is like that of the lion of the desart, a kind of ferocious impulse unconnected with reason. Lord Rochester had certainly never overcome the reproaches of his conscience, whose alarming voice at last struck terror into his heart, and chilled the fire of the spirits.
Since his travels, and naval expeditions, he seemed to have contracted a habit of temperance, in which had he been so happy as to persevere, he must have escaped that fatal rock, on which he afterwards split, upon his return to court, where love and pleasure kept their perpetual rounds, under the smiles of a prince, whom nature had fitted for all the enjoyments of the most luxurious desires. In times so dissolute as these, it is no wonder if a man of so warm a constitution as Rochester, could not resist the too flattering temptations, which were heightened by the participation of the court in general. The uncommon charms of Rochester's conversation, induced all men to court him as a companion, tho' they often paid too dear for their curiosity, by being made the subject of his lampoons, if they happened to have any oddities in their temper, by the exposing of which he could humour his propensity to scandal. His pleasant extravagancies soon became the subject of general conversation, by which his vanity was at once flattered, and his turn of satire rendered more keen, by the success it met with.
Rochester had certainly a true talent for satire, and he spared neither friends nor foes, but let it loose on all without discrimination. Majesty itself was not secure from it; he more than once lampooned the King, whose weakness and attachment to some of his mistresses, he endeavoured to cure by several means, that is, either by winning them from him, in spite of the indulgence and liberality they felt from a royal gallant, or by severely lampooning them and him on various occasions; which the King, who was a man of wit and pleasure, as well as his lordship, took for the natural sallies of his genius, and meant rather as the amusements of his fancy, than as the efforts of malice; yet, either by a too frequent repetition, or a too close and poignant virulence, the King banished him [from] the court for a satire made directly on him; this satire consists of 28 stanzas, and is entitled The Restoration, or the History of the Insipids; and as it contains the keenest reflexions against the political conduct, and private character of that Prince, and having produced the banishment of this noble lord, we shall here give it a place, by which his lordship's genius for this kind of writing will appear.
The RESTORATION, or The History of INSIPIDS, a LAMPOON.