Normanby, in the county of Lincoln. When it was debated in Parliament,
whether the Prince of Orange should be proclaimed King, or the Princess
his wife reign solely in her own right, he voted and spoke for the
former, and gave these reasons for it. That he thought the title of
either person was equal; and since the Parliament was to decide the
matter, he judged it would much better please that Prince, who was now
become their Protector, and was also in itself a thing more becoming so
good a Princess, as Queen Mary, to partake with her husband a crown so
obtained, than to possess it entirely as her own. After long debates in
Parliament, the crown at last was settled upon William and Mary. Burnet
lord bishop of Salisbury, whose affection for the revolution none I
believe can doubt, freely acknowledges that the King was resolved not to
hold the government by right of his wife; 'he would not think of holding
any thing by apron strings:' he was jealous of the friends of his wife,
and never, forgave them; and, last of all, he threatened to leave them
in the lurch, that is, to retire to Holland, with his Dutch army; so
restless, says Mulgrave in another place, is ambition, in its highest
scenes of success.
During the reign of King William however, he enjoyed some considerable
posts, and was generally pretty well in his favour, and confidence.
April 21, 1702, he was sworn Lord Privy Seal, and the same year
appointed one of the commissioners to treat of an union between England
and Scotland, and was made Lord Lieutenant, and Custos Rotulorum for the
North Riding of Yorkshire, and one of the governors of the Charterhouse.
March 9, 1703, he was created duke of Normanby, having been made marquis
of Normanby by King William, and on the 19th of the same month duke of
Buckingham. In 1711 he was made Steward of her Majesty's Houshold, and
President of the Council; and on her decease, was one of the Lords
Justices in Great Britain, 'till King George arrived from Hanover.
In 1710 the Whig ministry began to lose ground, and Mr. Harley, since
earl of Oxford, and the Lord Treasurer made the proper use of those
circumstances, yet wanting some assistance, applied to the duke of
Buckingham. The duke, who was not then on good terms with Mr. Harley, at
first slighted his proposal, but afterwards joined with him and others,
which produced a revolution in the ministry, and shook the power of
the duke and duchess of Marlborough, while Mr. Harley, the earl of
Shrewsbury, lord Bolingbroke, &c. came into the administration. The
duke was attached to Tory principles. Her Majesty offered to make him
chancellor, which he thought proper to refuse. He was out of employment
for some time, during which, he did not so much as pay his compliments
at court, 'till he married his third wife, and then went to kiss her
Majesty's hand.
The duke of Buckingham, though reckoned haughty, and ill natured, was
yet of a tender, compassionate disposition; but as the best characters
have generally some allay, he is allowed to have been very passionate;
but after his warmth subsided, he endeavoured to atone for it by acts
of kindness and beneficence to those upon whom his passion had vented
itself. Several years before his grace died, he was well known to have
expressed some concern for the libertinism of his youth, especially
regarding the fair sex, in which he had indulged himself himself very
freely. He was survived only by one legitimate son, but left several
natural children;
Our noble author has been charged by some of his enemies, with the
sordid vice of covetousness, but without foundation; for, as a strong
indication that he was not avaritious, he lost a considerable part of
his fortune, merely by not taking the pains to visit, during the space
of 40 years, his estates at some distance from London; and whoever is
acquainted with human nature knows, that indolence and covetousness are
incompatible.
His grace died the 24th of February 1720, in the 75th year of his age,
and after lying in state for some days at Buckingham-House, was
carried from thence with great funeral solemnity, and interred in
Westminster-Abbey, where a monument is erected to his memory, upon which
the following epitaph is engraved, by his own direction, as appears from
a passage in his will.
'Since something is usually written on monuments, I direct that the
following lines shall be put on mine, viz.
'In one place.
Pro Rege sæpe, pro Republica semper.
'In another.
Dubius, sed non improbus vixi.
Incertus morior, sed inturbatus.
Humanum est nescire & errare.
Christum adveneror, Deo confido
Omnipotenti, benevolentissimo.
Ens Entium miserere mihi.'
The words Christum adveneror are omitted at the desire of the late
bishop Atterbury, who thought them not strong enough in regard to
Christ; under the whole are the following words,
Catharina Buckinghamicæ: Ducissa
Mærens extrui curavit Anno MDCCXXI.
Edmund, the duke's eldest son, already mentioned, was snatched away
in his bloom; a youth from whom the greatest things might have been
expected, as he was untainted with the vices of the age: he was very
remarkable for his modesty, which vulgar minds imputed to want of
powers, but those who knew him best, have given a different testimony
concerning him, and have represented him as possessed of all the genius
of his father, with more strict and inviolable morals. With this young
nobleman the titles of the Sheffield family expired.
The duke, his father, informs us of a duel he was to have fought with
the witty earl of Rochester, which he thus relates; after telling us
that the cause of the quarrel happened between the first and second
Dutch war.
'I was inform'd (says his grace) that the earl of Rochester had said
something very malicious of me; I therefore sent colonel Aston, a very
mettled friend of mine, to call him to account for it; he denied the
words, and indeed I was soon convinced he had never said them. But
a mere report, though I found it to be false, obliged me (as I then
foolishly thought) to go on with the quarrel; and the next day was
appointed for us to fight on horseback: a way in England a little
unusual, but it was his part to chuse. Accordingly I and my second lay
the night before at Knightsbridge privately, to avoid being secured at
London on any suspicion, which we found ourselves more in danger of
there, because we had all the appearance of highwaymen, that had a mind
to lye skulking in an odd inn for one night. In the morning we met the
lord Rochester at the place appointed, who, instead of James Porter,
whom he assured Aston he would make his second, brought an errant
life-guard-man, whom nobody knew. To this Mr. 'Aston took exception, as
being no suitable adversary, especially considering how extremely well
he was mounted, whereas we had only a couple of pads; upon which we all
agreed to fight on foot. But as my lord Rochester and I were riding into
the next field in order to it, he told me that he had at first chosen
to fight on horseback, because he was so weak with a certain distemper,
that he found himself unfit to fight at all any way, much less a foot.
I was extremely surprized, because no man at that time had a better
reputation for courage; and my anger against him being quite subsided,
I took the liberty to represent to him what a ridiculous story it would
make, should we return without fighting; and told him, that I must in my
own defence be obliged to lay the fault on him, by telling the truth of
the matter. His answer was, that he submitted to it, and hoped I would
not take the advantage in having to do with any man in so weak a
condition: I replied, that by such an argument he had sufficiently tied
my hands, upon condition, I might call our seconds to be witnesses of
the whole business, which he consented to, and so we parted. Upon our
return to London, we found it full of this quarrel, upon our being
absent so long; and therefore Mr. Aston thought fit to write down every
word and circumstance of this whole matter, in order to spread every
where the true reason of our returning without having fought; which
being not in the least contradicted, or resented by the lord Rochester,
entirely ruined his reputation for courage, though nobody had still
a greater as to wit, which supported him pretty well in the world,
notwithstanding some more accidents of the same kind, that never fail to
succeed one another, when once people know a man's weakness.' The duke
of Buckingham's works speak him a beautiful prose writer, and a very
considerable poet, which is proved by the testimony of some of the best
writers, his cotemporaries.
His prose works consist chiefly of
Historical Memoirs, Speeches in Parliament, Characters, Dialogues,
Critical Observations, Speeches and Essays, which, with his poetical
compositions, were printed by Alderman Barber in 1723. in two splendid
4to volumes. The first volume containing pieces in most species of
poetry, the epic excepted, and also imitations from other authors. His
Grace wrote some Epigrams, a great number of lyric pieces, some in the
elegiac strain, and others in the dramatic. Amongst his poems, an Essay
on Poetry, which contains excellent instructions to form the poet, is
by far the most distinguished. He wrote a play called Julius Cæsar and
another called Brutus: or rather altered them from Shakespear.
His grace was a great lover of the polite arts in general, as appears
from the fondness he expresses for them in several parts of his works;
particularly Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture; of the two former
he made several curious collections, and his house, built under his
direction in St. James's Park, speaks him not unacquainted with the
latter. It would be superfluous to enumerate all the writers who have
given testimony in his grace's favour as an author. Dryden in several of
his Dedications, while he expresses the warmth of his gratitude, fails
not to convey the most amiable idea of his lordship, and represents him
as a noble writer. He lived in friendship with that great poet, who has
raised indelible monuments to his memory. I shall add but one other
testimony of his merit, which if some should think unnecessary, yet
it is pleasing; the lines are delightfully sweet and flowing. In his
Miscellanies thus speaks Mr. Pope;
'Muse 'tis enough, at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live; for Buckingham commends.
Let crowds of critics now my verse assail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail.
This more than pays whole years of thankless pain,
Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in vain.
Sheffield approves: conferring Phoebus bends;
And I, and malice, from this hour are friends.'
The two plays of Julius Cæsar, which he altered from Shakespear, are
both with Chorusses, after the manner of the Ancients: These plays were
to have been performed in the year 1729, and all the Chorusses were set
to music by that great master in composition, Signor Bononcini; but
English voices being few, the Italians were applied to, who demanded
more for their nightly performance, than the receipts of the house could
amount to at the usual raised prices, and on that account the design was
dropt.
It appears that our noble author had conceived a great regard for Mr.
Pope, on his earliest appearance in the literary world; and was among
the first to acknowledge the young bard's merit, in commendatory verses
upon his excellence in poetry. The following compliment from the duke is
prefixed to the first volume of Mr. Pope's works.
On Mr. POPE, and his POEMs, by his Grace JOHN SHEFFIELD, Duke of
BUCKINGHAM.
With age decay'd, with courts and bus'ness tir'd,
Caring for nothing, but what ease requir'd;
Too dully serious for the muses sport,
And from the critics safe arriv'd in port;
I little thought of launching forth agen,
Amidst advent'rous rovers of the pen;
And after so much undeserv'd success,
Thus hazarding at last to make it less.
Encomiums suit not this censorious time,
Itself a subject for satyric rhime;
Ignorance honour'd, wit and mirth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd!
But to this genius, join'd with so much art,
Such various learning mix'd in ev'ry part,
Poets are bound a loud applause to pay;
Apollo bids it, and they must obey.
And yet so wonderful, sublime a thing,
As the great ILIAD, scarce cou'd make me sing;
Except I justly cou'd at once commend
A good companion, and as firm a friend.
One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed
Can all desert in sciences exceed.
'Tis great delight to laugh at some men's ways,
But a much greater to give merit praise.
[Footnote 1: Character of the Duke of Buckingham, p. 2. London, 1739.]
[Footnote 2: General Dictionary. See Article Sheffield.]
[Footnote 3: Vol, ii, p. 106.]
* * * * *
CHARLES COTTON, Esq;
This ingenious gentleman lived in the reigns of Charles and James II.
He resided for a great part of his life at Beresford in the county of
Stafford. He had some reputation for lyric poetry, but was particularly
famous for burlesque verse. He translated from the French Monsieur
Corneille's Horace, printed in 4to. London 1671, and dedicated to his
dear sister Mrs. Stanhope Hutchinson. This play was first finished in
1665, but in his prefatory epistle he tells us,
'that neither at that time, nor for several years after, was it
intended for the public view, it being written for the private
divertisement of a fair young lady, and, ever since it had the
honour first to kiss her hands, was so entirely hers, that the
author did not reserve so much as the Brouillon to himself;
however, she being prevailed upon, though with some difficulty,
it was printed in 8vo. 1670.'
As to the merit of this play in the original, it is sufficient to
observe, that the critics have allowed it to be the best tragedy of
Corneille, and the author himself is of the same opinion, provided the
three last acts had been equal to the two first. As to the translation
by Mr. Cotton, we have very considerable authority to pronounce it
better than that of Mrs. Katherine Philips, who could not number
versification among her qualities. The plot of this play, so far
as history is concerned, may be read in Livy, Florus, Dionysius
Halicarnasseus, &c. Our stage has lately had a play founded upon this
story, added to the many it has received, called the Roman Father, by
Mr. W. Whitehead.
Besides this translation, Mr. Cotton is author of many other works, such
as his poem called the Wonders of the Peak, printed in 8vo. London 168;
[1] His burlesque Poem, called Scarronides, or Virgil Travestie, a mock
Poem, on the first and fourth Books of Virgil's Æneid, printed in 8vo.
London 1678. Though the title seems to imply as if his poem was in
imitation of Scarron, who has translated eight books of Virgil in the
same manner, yet they who will compare both these pieces, will possibly
find, that he has not only exceeded the French, but all those who have
made any attempts on that kind of poetry, the incomparable author of
Hudibras excepted. Mr. Cotton likewise translated several of Lucian's
Dialogues into burlesque verse, printed in 8vo. London 1675, under
the title of the Scoffer Scoff'd. In 1689 a volume of poems, with Mr.
Cotton's name prefixed, was published in London: on these poems colonel
Lovelace, Sir Alton Cockaine, Robert Harrick, esq; and Mr. Alexander
Brome, complimented the author by copies of verses prefixed; but Mr.
Langbain observes, that the truest picture of Mr. Cotton's mind is to
be seen in a little piece published at the end of these poems called
Retirement; but the chief of Mr. Cotton's production, seems to be his
translation of Montaigne's Essays, dedicated to George Lord Saville,
Marquis of Hallifax; his lordship in a letter to him, thus express his
esteem for the translator, and admiration of his performance. This
letter is printed amongst the other pieces of the marquis's in a thin
12mo.
'Sir, I have too long delayed my thanks to you for giving me such an
obliging evidence of your remembrance: that alone would have been a
welcome present, but when joined with the book in the world I am the
best entertained with, it raiseth a strong desire in me to be better
known, where I am sure to be much pleased. I have, 'till now, thought
wit could not be translated, and do still retain so much of that
opinion, that I believe it impossible, except by one, whose genius
cometh up to the author. You have so kept the original strength of his
thought, that it almost tempts a man to believe the transmigration of
souls. He hath by your means mended his first edition. To transplant
and make him ours, is not only a valuable acquisition to us, but a just
censure of the critical impertinence of those French scriblers, who
have taken pains to make little cavils and exceptions, to lessen the
reputation of this great man, whom nature hath made too big to confine
himself to the exactness of a studied stile. He let his mind have its
full flight, and shewed by a generous kind of negligence, that he
did not write for praise, but to give to the world a true picture of
himself, and of mankind. He scorned affected periods to please the
mistaken reader with an empty chime of words; he hath no affectation to
set himself out, and dependeth wholly upon the natural force of what is
his own, and the excellent application of what he borroweth.
'You see, sir, I have kindness enough for Monsieur de Montaigne to be
your rival, but nobody can pretend to be in equal competition with you.
I do willingly yield, which is no small matter for a man to do to a
more prosperous lover, and if you will repay this piece of justice with
another, pray believe, that he who can translate such an author without
doing him wrong, must not only make me glad, but proud of being his
most humble servant,'
* * *.
Thus far the testimony of the marquis of Hallifax in favour of our
author's performance, and we have good reason to conclude, that the
translation, is not without great merit, when so accomplished a judge
has praised it.
We cannot be certain in what year our author died, but it was probably
some time about the revolution. He appears to have been a man of very
considerable genius, to have had an extraordinary natural vein of
humour, and an uncommon flow of pleasantry: he was certainly born a
poet, and wrote his verses easily, but rather too loosely; his numbers
being frequently harsh, and his stile negligent, and unpolished. The
cause of his Life being inserted out of chronological order, was an
accident, the particulars of which are not of importance enough to be
mentioned.
[Footnote 1: M. Cotton's works are printed together in one volume, 12mo.
The thirteenth edition is dated 1751.]
* * * * *
The Right Honourable Joseph Addison, Esq;
This elegant writer, to whom the world owes so many obligations, was
born at Milton near Ambrosbury in the county of Wilts (of which place
his father, Mr. Lancelot Addison, was then rector) on the 6th of May
1672; and being not thought likely to live, was baptized on the same
day, as appears from the church register. When he grew up to an age fit
for going to school, he was put under the care of the rev. Mr. Naish at
Ambrosbury. He afterwards removed to a school at Salisbury, taught by
the rev. Mr. Taylor, thence to the Charter-house, where he was under the
tuition of the learned Dr. Ellis, and where he contracted an intimacy
with Mr. Steel, afterwards Sir Richard, which continued as long as Mr.
Addison lived. He was not above fifteen years old when he was entered of
Queen's College, Oxford, in which his father had been placed: where he
applied himself so closely to the study of classical learning, that in
a very short time he became master of a very elegant Latin stile, even
before he arrived at that age when ordinary scholars begin to write good
English.
In the year 1687 a copy of his verses in that tongue fell into the hands
of Dr. Lancaster dean of Magdalen College, who was so pleased with them,
that he immediately procured their author's election into that house
[1]; where he took the degrees of bachelor, and matter of arts. In the
course of a few years his Latin poetry was justly admired at both the
universities, and procured him great reputation there, before his name
was so much as known in London. When he was in the 22d year of his
age, he published a copy of verses addressed to Mr. Dryden, which soon
procured him the notice of some of the poetical judges in that age. The
verses are not without their elegance, but if they are much removed
above common rhimes, they fall infinitely short of the character Mr.
Addison's friends bestowed upon them. Some little space intervening, he
sent into the world a translation of the 4th Georgic of Virgil, of which
we need not say any more, than that it was commended by Mr. Dryden. He
wrote also that discourse on the Georgics, prefixed to them by way of
preface in Mr. Dryden's translation, and chose to withhold his name from
that judicious composition, because it contained an untried strain of
criticism, which bore hard upon the old professors of that art, and
therefore was not so fit for a young man to take upon himself; and Mr.
Dryden, who was above the meanness of fathering any one's work, owns
the Essay on the Georgics to have come from a friend, whose name is not
mentioned, because he desired to have it concealed.
The next year Mr. Addison wrote several poems of different kinds;
amongst the rest, one addressed to Henry Sacheverel, who became
afterwards so exceedingly famous. The following year he wrote a poem to
King William on one of his Campaigns, addressed to the Lord Keeper (Sir
John Somers.) That excellent statesman received this mark of a young
author's attachment with great humanity, admitted Mr. Addison into the
number of his friends, and gave him on all occasions distinguishing
proofs of a sincere esteem [2]. While he was at the university, he had
been pressingly sollicited to enter into holy orders, which he seemed
once resolved on, probably in obedience to his father's authority; but
being conscious of the importance of the undertaking, and deterred by
his extreme modesty, he relinquished, says Mr. Tickell, all views that
way; but Sir Richard Steel in his letter to Mr. Congreve prefixed to
the Drummer, who had a quarrel with Tickell, on account of an injurious
treatment of him, says, that those were not the reasons which made Mr.
Addison turn his thoughts to the civil world, 'and as you were the
inducement (says he) of his becoming acquainted with my lord Hallifax,
I doubt not but you remember the warm instances that noble lord made
to the head of the college, not to insist on Mr. Addison's going into
orders; his arguments were founded on the general pravity and
corruption of men of business, who wanted liberal education; and I
remember, as if I had read the letter yesterday, that my lord ended with
a compliment, that however he might be represented as no friend to the
church, he would never do it any other injury than by keeping
Mr. Addison out of it.'