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.
I.
Chaste, pious, prudent, Charles the second,
The miracle of thy restoration,
May like to that of quails be reckon'd,
Rain'd on the Israelitish nation;
The wish'd for blessing from Heaven sent,
Became their curse and punishment.
II.
The virtues in thee, Charles, inherent,
Altho' thy count'nance be an odd piece,
Prove thee as true a God's Vicegerent,
As e'er was Harry with his cod-piece:
For chastity, and pious deeds,
His grandsire Harry Charles exceeds.
III.
Our Romish bondage-breaker Harry,
Espoused half a dozen wives.
Charles only one resolv'd to marry,
And other mens he never ----;
Yet has he sons and daughters more
Than e'er had Harry by threescore.
IV.
Never was such a faith's defender;
He like a politic Prince, and pious,
Gives liberty to conscience tender,
And does to no religion tie us;
Jews, Christians, Turks, Papists, he'll please us
With Moses, Mahomet, or Jesus.
V.
In all affairs of church or state
He very zealous is, and able,
Devout at pray'rs, and sits up late
At the cabal and council-table.
His very dog, at council-board,
Sits grave and wise as any lord.
VI.
Let Charles's policy no man flout,
The wisest Kings have all some folly;
Nor let his piety any doubt;
Charles, like a Sov'reign, wise and holy,
Makes young men judges of the bench,
And bishops, those that love a wench.
VII.
His father's foes he does reward,
Preserving those that cut off's head;
Old cavaliers, the crown's best guard,
He lets them starve for want of bread.
Never was any King endow'd
With so much grace and gratitude.
VIII.
Blood, that wears treason in his face,
Villain compleat in parson's gown,
How much is he at court in grace,
For stealing Ormond and the crown!
Since loyalty does no man good,
Let's steal the King, and out-do Blood.
IX.
A Parliament of knaves and sots
(Members by name you must not mention)
He keeps in pay, and buys their votes,
Here with a place, there with a pension:
When to give money he can't cologue 'em,
He does with scorn prorogue, prorogue 'em.
X.
But they long since, by too much giving,
Undid, betray'd, and sold the nation,
Making their memberships a living,
Better than e'er was sequestration.
God give thee, Charles, a resolution
To damn the knaves by dissolution.
XI.
Fame is not grounded on success,
Tho' victories were Cæsar's glory;
Lost battles make not Pompey less,
But left him stiled great in story.
Malicious fate does oft devise
To beat the brave, and fool the wise.
XII.
Charles in the first Dutch war stood fair
To have been Sov'reign of the deep,
When Opdam blew up in the air,
Had not his Highness gone to sleep:
Our fleet slack'd sails, fearing his waking,
The Dutch had else been in sad taking.
XIII.
The Bergen business was well laid,
Tho' we paid dear for that design;
Had we not three days parling staid,
The Dutch fleet there, Charles, had been thine:
Tho' the false Dane agreed to fell 'em,
He cheated us, and saved Skellum.
XIV.
Had not Charles sweetly chous'd the States,
By Bergen-baffle grown more wise;
And made 'em shit as small as rats,
By their rich Smyrna fleet's surprise:
Had haughty Holmes, but call'd in Spragg,
Hans had been put into a bag.
XV.
Mists, storms, short victuals, adverse winds,
And once the navy's wise division,
Defeated Charles's best designs,
'Till he became his foes derision:
But he had swing'd the Dutch at Chatham,
Had he had ships but to come at 'em.
XVI.
Our Black-Heath host, without dispute,
(Rais'd, put on board, why? no man knows)
Must Charles have render'd absolute
Over his subjects, or his foes:
Has not the French King made us fools,
By taking Maestricht with our tools?
XVII.
But Charles, what could thy policy be,
To run so many sad disasters;
To join thy fleet with false d'Estrees
To make the French of Holland masters?
Was't Carewell, brother James, or Teague,
That made thee break the Triple League?
XVIII.
Could Robin Viner have foreseen
The glorious triumphs of his master;
The Wool-Church statue Gold had been,
Which now is made of Alabaster.
But wise men think had it been wood,
'Twere for a bankrupt King too good.
XIX.
Those that the fabric well consider.
Do of it diversly discourse;
Some pass their censure on the rider,
Others their judgment on the horse.
Most say, the steed's a goodly thing,
But all agree, 'tis a lewd King.
XX.
By the lord mayor and his grave coxcombs,
Freeman of London, Charles is made;
Then to Whitehall a rich Gold box comes,
Which was bestow'd on the French jade[2]:
But wonder not it should be so, sirs,
When Monarchs rank themselves with Grocers.
XXI.
Cringe, scrape no more, ye city-fops,
Leave off your feasting and fine speeches;
Beat up your drums, shut up your shops,
The courtiers then will kiss your breeches.
Arm'd, tell the Popish Duke that rules,
You're free-born subjects, not French mules.
XXII.
New upstarts, bastards, pimps, and whores,
That, locust-like, devour the land,
By shutting up th'Exchequer-doors,
When there our money was trapann'd,
Have render'd Charles's restoration
But a small blessing to the nation.
XXIII.
Then, Charles, beware thy brother York,
Who to thy government gives law;
If once we fall to the old sport,
You must again both to Breda;
Where, spite of all that would restore you,
Grown wise by wrongs, we should abhor you.
XXIV.
If, of all Christian blood the guilt
Cries loud of vengeance unto Heav'n,
That sea by treach'rous Lewis spilt,
Can never be by God forgiv'n:
Worse scourge unto his subjects, lord!
Than pest'lence, famine, fire, or sword.
XXV.
That false rapacious wolf of France,
The scourge of Europe, and its curse,
Who at his subjects cries does dance,
And studies how to make them worse;
To say such Kings, Lord, rule by thee,
Were most prodigious blasphemy.
XXVI.
Such know no law, but their own lust;
Their subjects substance, and their blood,
They count it tribute due and just,
Still spent and spilt for subjects good.
If such Kings are by God appointed,
The devil may be the Lord's anointed.
XXVII.
Such Kings! curs'd be the pow'r and name,
Let all the world henceforth abhor 'em;
Monsters, which knaves sacred proclaim,
And then, like slaves, fall down before 'em.
What can there be in Kings divine?
The most are wolves, goats, sheep, or swine.
XXVIII.
Then farewel, sacred Majesty,
Let's pull all brutish tyrants down;
Where men are born, and still live free,
There ev'ry head doth wear a crown:
Mankind, like miserable frogs,
Prove wretched, king'd by storks and dogs.
Much about this time the duke of Buckingham was under disgrace, for
things of another nature, and being disengaged from any particular
attachment in town, he and lord Rochester resolved, like Don Quixote
of old, to set out in quest of adventures; and they met with some that
will appear entertaining to our readers, which we shall give upon the
authority of the author of Rochester's Life, prefixed to his works.
Among many other adventures the following was one:
There happened to be an inn on New-market road to be lett, they
disguised themselves in proper habits for the persons they were to
assume, and jointly took this inn, in which each in his turn
officiated as master; but they soon made this subservient to purposes
of another nature.
Having carefully observed the pretty girls in the country with whom
they were most captivated, (they considered not whether maids, wives,
or widows) and to gain opportunities of seducing them, they invited
the neighbours, who had either wives or daughters, to frequent feasts,
where the men were plied hard with good liquor, and the women
sufficiently warmed to make but as little resistance as would be
agreeable to their inclinations, dealing out their poison to both
sexes, inspiring the men with wine, and other strong liquors, and the
women with love; thus they were able to deflower many a virgin, and
alienate the affections of many a wife by this odd stratagem; and it
is difficult to say, whether it is possible for two men to live to a
worse purpose.
It is natural to imagine that this kind of life could not be of long
duration. Feasts so frequently given, and that without any thing to
pay, must give a strong suspicion that the inn-keepers must soon
break, or that they were of such fortune and circumstances, as did not
well suit the post they were in.--This their lordships were sensible
of, but not much concerned about it, since they were seldom found long
to continue in the same sort of adventures, variety being the life of
their enjoyments. It was besides, near the time of his Majesty's going
to Newmarket, when they designed, that the discovery of their real
plots, should clear them of the imputation of being concerned in any
more pernicious to the government. These two conjectures meeting, they
thought themselves obliged to dispatch two important adventures, which
they had not yet been able to compass.--There was an old covetous
miser in the neighbourhood, who notwithstanding his age, was in
possession of a very agreeable young wife. Her husband watched her
with the same assiduity he did his money, and never trusted her out of
his sight, but under the protection of an old maiden sister, who never
had herself experienced the joys of love, and bore no great
benevolence to all who were young and handsome. Our noble inn-keepers
had no manner of doubt of his accepting a treat, as many had done, for
he loved good living with all his heart, when it cost him nothing; and
except upon these occasions he was the most temperate and abstemious
man alive; but then they could never prevail with him to bring his
wife, notwithstanding they urged the presence of so many good wives in
the neighbourhood to keep her company. All their study was then how to
deceive the old sister at home, who was set as a guardian over that
fruit which the miser could neither eat himself, nor suffer any other
to taste; but such a difficulty as this was soon to be overcome by
such inventions. It was therefore agreed that lord Rochester should be
dressed in woman's cloaths, and while the husband was feasting with my
lord duke, he should make trial of his skill with the old woman at
home. He had learned that she had no aversion to the bottle when she
could come secretly and conveniently at it. Equipped like a country
lass, and furnished with a bottle of spiritous liquors, he marched to
the old miser's house. It was with difficulty he found means to speak
with the old woman, but at last obtained the favour; where perfect in
all the cant of those people, he began to tell the occasion of his
coming, in hopes she would invite him to come in, but all in vain; he
was admitted no further that the porch, with the house door a-jar: At
last, my lord finding no other way, fell upon this expedient. He
pretended to be taken suddenly ill, and tumbled down upon the
threshold. This noise brings the young wife to them, who with much
trouble persuades her keeper to help her into the house, in regard to
the decorum of her sex, and the unhappy condition she was in. The door
had not been long shut, till our imposter by degrees recovers, and
being set on a chair, cants a very religious thanksgiving to the good
gentlewoman for her kindness, and observed how deplorable it was to be
subject to such fits, which often took her in the street, and exposed
her to many accidents, but every now and then took a sip of the
bottle, and recommended it to the old benefactress, who was sure to
drink a hearty dram. His lordship had another bottle in his pocket
qualified with a Opium, which would sooner accomplish his desire, by
giving the woman a somniferous dose, which drinking with greediness,
she soon fell fast asleep.
His lordship having so far succeeded, and being fired with the
presence of the young wife, for whom he had formed this odd scheme,
his desires became impetuous, which produced a change of colour, and
made the artless creature imagine the fit was returning. My lord then
asked if she would be so charitable as to let him lie down on the bed;
the good-natured young woman shewed him the way, and being laid down,
and staying by him at his request, he put her in mind of her
condition, asking about her husband, whom the young woman painted in
his true colours, as a surly, jealous old tyrant. The rural innocent
imagining she had only a woman with her, was less reserved in her
behaviour and expressions on that account, and his lordship soon found
that a tale of love would not be unpleasing to her. Being now no
longer able to curb his appetite, which was wound up beyond the power
of restraint, he declared his sex to her, and without much struggling
enjoyed her.
He now became as happy as indulgence could make him; and when the
first transports were over, he contrived the escape of this young
adultress from the prison of her keeper. She hearkened to his
proposals with pleasure, and before the old gentlewoman was awake, she
robbed her husband of an hundred and fifty pieces, and marched off
with lord Rochester to the inn, about midnight.
They were to pass over three or four fields before they could reach
it, and in going over the last, they very nearly escaped falling into
the enemy's hands; but the voice of the husband discovering who he
was, our adventurers struck down the field out of the path, and for
the greater security lay down in the grass. The place, the occasion,
and the person that was so near, put his lordship in mind of renewing
his pleasure almost in sight of the cuckold. The fair was no longer
coy, and easily yielded to his desires. He in short carried the girl
home and then prostituted her to the duke's pleasure, after he had
been cloyed himself. The old man going home, and finding his sitter
asleep, his wife fled, and his money gone, was thrown into a state of
madness, and soon hanged himself. The news was soon spread about the
neighbourhood, and reached the inn, where both lovers, now as weary of
their purchase as desirous of it before, advised her to go to London,
with which she complied, and in all probability followed there the
trade of prostitution for a subsistance.
The King, soon after this infamous adventure, coming that way, found
them both in their posts at the inn, took them again into favour, and
suffered them to go with him to Newmarket. This exploit of lord
Rochester is not at all improbable, when his character is considered;
His treachery in the affair of the miser's wife is very like him; and
surely it was one of the greatest acts of baseness of which he was
ever guilty; he artfully seduced her, while her unsuspecting husband
was entertained by the duke of Buckingham; he contrived a robbery, and
produced the death of the injured husband; this complicated crime was
one of those heavy charges on his mind when he lay on his death-bed,
under the dreadful alarms of his conscience.
His lordship's amours at court made a great noise in the world of
gallantry, especially that which he had with the celebrated Mrs.
Roberts, mistress to the King, whom she abondoned for the possession
of Rochester's heart, which she found to her experience, it was not in
her power long to hold. The earl, who was soon cloyed with the
possession of any one woman, tho' the fairest in the world, forsook
her. The lady after the first indignation of her passion subsided,
grew as indifferent, and considered upon the proper means of
retrieving the King's affections. The occasion was luckily given her
one morning while she was dressing: she saw the King coming by, she
hurried, down with her hair disheveled, threw herself at his feet,
implored his pardon, and vowed constancy for the future. The King,
overcome with the well-dissembled agonies of this beauty, raised her
up, took her in his arms, and protested no man could see her, and not
love her: he waited on her to her lodging, and there compleated the
reconciliation. This easy behaviour of the King, had, with many other
instances of the same kind, determined my lord Hallifax to assert,
"That the love of King Charles II, lay as much as any man's, in the
lower regions; that he was indifferent as to their constancy, and only
valued them for the sensual pleasure they could yield."
Lord Rochester's frolics in the character of a mountebank are well
known, and the speech which he made upon the occasion of his first
turning itinerant doctor, has been often printed; there is in it a
true spirit of satire, and a keenness of lampoon, which is very much
in the character of his lordship, who had certainly an original turn
for invective and satirical composition.
We shall give the following short extract from this celebrated speech,
in which his lordship's wit appears pretty conspicuous.
"If I appear (says Alexander Bendo) to any one like a counterfeit,
even for the sake of that chiefly ought I to be construed a true man,
who is the counterfeit's example, his original, and that which he
employs his industry and pains to imitate and copy. Is it therefore my
fault if the cheat, by his wit and endeavours, makes himself so like
me, that consequently I cannot avoid resembling him? Consider, pray,
the valiant and the coward, the wealthy merchant and the bankrupt; the
politician and the fool; they are the same in many things, and differ
but in one alone. The valiant man holds up his hand, looks confidently
round about him, wears a sword, courts a lord's wife, and owns it; so
does the coward. One only point of honour, and that's courage, which
(like false metal, one only trial can discover) makes the distinction.
The bankrupt walks the exchange, buys bargains, draws bills, and
accepts them with the richest, whilst paper and credit are current
coin; that which makes the difference is real cash, a great defect
indeed, and yet but one, and that the last found out, and still till
then the least perceived.--Now for the politician; he is a grave,
diliberating, close, prying man: Pray are there not grave,
deliberating, close, prying fools? If therefore the difference betwixt
all these (tho' infinite in effect) be so nice in all appearance, will
you yet expect it should be otherwise between the false physician,
astrologer, &c. and the true? The first calls himself learned doctor,
sends forth his bills, gives physic and council, tells, and foretells;
the other is bound to do just as much. It is only your experience must
distinguish betwixt them, to which I willingly submit myself."
When lord Rochester was restored again to the favour of King Charles
II, he continued the same extravagant pursuits of pleasure, and would
even use freedoms with that Prince, whom he had before so much
offended; for his satire knew no bounds, his invention was lively, and
his execution sharp.