Characters from the Histories & Memoirs of the Seventeenth Century Part 18

66.

THE EARL OF LAUDERDALE.

_John Maitland, second Earl, created Duke 1672, Secretary of State for Scotland 1660-1680._

_Born 1616. Died 1682._

By CLARENDON.

The Earle of Latherdale, who had bene very eminent in contrivinge and carryinge on the kings service, when his Majesty was crowned in Scotlande, and therby had wrought himselfe into a very particular esteme with the kinge, had marched with him into Englande, and behaved himselfe well at Worcester, wher he was taken prissoner, had besydes that meritt, the sufferinge an imprysonment from that very tyme, with some circ.u.mstances of extreme rigour, beinge a man against whome Crumwell had alwayes professed a more then ordinary animosity, and though the sceane of his imprysonment had bene altred, accordinge to the alterations of the goverments which succeeded, yett he never founde himselfe in compleate liberty, till the kinge was proclaymed by the Parliament, and then he thought it not necessary to repayre into Scotlande for authority or recommendation, but sendinge his advise thither to his frends, he made hast to transporte himselfe with the Parliament Commissyoners to the Hague, where he was very well receaved by the kinge, and left nothinge undone on his parte, that might cultivate these old inclinations, beinge a man of as much addresse, and insinuation, in which that nation excells, as was then amongst them. He applyed himselfe to those who were most trusted by the kinge with a marvellous importunity, and especially to the Chancellour, with whome as often as they had ever bene togither, he had a perpetuall warr. He now magnifyed his constancy with lowde elogiums as well to his face, as behinde his backe, remembred many sharpe exspressions formerly used by the Chancellour which he confessed had then made him mad, though upon recollection afterwards he had founde to be very reasonable. He was very polite in all his discources, called himselfe and his nation a thousand Traytors, and Rebells, and in his discourses frequently sayd, when I was a Traytour, or when I was in rebellion, and seemed not aequally delighted with any argument, as when he skornefully spake of the Covenante, upon which he brake a hundred jests: in summ all his discourses were such, as pleased all the company, who commonly believed all he sayd, and concurred with him. He [renew]ed his old acquaintance and familiarity with Middleton, by all the protestations of frendshipp, a.s.sured him of the unanimous desyre of Scotlande, to be [un]der his commaunde, and declared to the kinge, that he could not send any man into Scotlande who would be able to do him so much service in the place of Commissyoner as Middleton, and that it was in his Majestys power to unite that whole kingdome to his service as one m[an:] all which pleased the kinge well, so that by the tyme that the Commissioners appeared at London, upon some old promise in Scotlande, or new inclination upon his longe sufferings, which he magnifyed enough, the kinge gave him the Signett, and declared him to be Secretary of State of that kingdome, and at the same tyme declared that Middleton should be his Commissyoner, the Earle of Glengarne his Chancellour, the Earle of Rothesse, who was likewise one of the Commissyoners, and his person very agreable to the kinge, President of the Councell, and conferred all other inferiour offices, upon men most notable for ther affection to the old goverment of Church and State.

67.

By BURNET.

The Earl of _Lauderdale_, afterwards made Duke, had been for many years a zealous Covenanter: But in the year forty seven he turned to the King's interests; and had continued a prisoner all the while after _Worcester_ fight, where he was taken. He was kept for some years in the tower of _London_, in _Portland_ castle, and in other prisons, till he was set at liberty by those who called home the King. So he went over to _Holland_. And since he continued so long, and contrary to all mens opinions in so high a degree of favour and confidence, it may be expected that I should be a little copious in setting out his character; for I knew him very particularly. He made a very ill appearance: He was very big: His hair red, hanging odly about him: His tongue was too big for his mouth, which made him bedew all that he talked to: And his whole manner was rough and boisterous, and very unfit for a Court. He was very learned, not only in _Latin_, in which he was a master, but in _Greek_ and _Hebrew_. He had read a great deal of divinity, and almost all the historians ancient and modern: So that he had great materials. He had with these an extraordinary memory, and a copious but unpolished expression. He was a man, as the Duke of _Buckingham_ called him to me, of a blundering understanding. He was haughty beyond expression, abject to those he saw he must stoop to, but imperious to all others. He had a violence of pa.s.sion that carried him often to fits like madness, in which he had no temper. If he took a thing wrong, it was a vain thing to study to convince him: That would rather provoke him to swear, he would never be of another mind: He was to be let alone: And perhaps he would have forgot what he had said, and come about of his own accord. He was the coldest friend and the violentest enemy I ever knew: I felt it too much not to know it.

He at first seemed to despise wealth: But he delivered himself up afterwards to luxury and sensuality: And by that means he ran into a vast expence, and stuck at nothing that was necessary to support it.

In his long imprisonment he had great impressions of religion on his mind: But he wore these out so entirely, that scarce any trace of them was left. His great experience in affairs, his ready compliance with every thing that he thought would please the King, and his bold offering at the most desperate counsels, gained him such an interest in the King, that no attempt against him nor complaint of him could ever shake it, till a decay of strength and understanding forced him to let go his hold. He was in his principles much against Popery and arbitrary government: And yet by a fatal train of pa.s.sions and interests he made way for the former, and had almost established the latter. And, whereas some by a smooth deportment made the first beginnings of tyranny less discernible and unacceptable, he by the fury of his behaviour heightned the severity of his ministry, which was liker the cruelty of an inquisition than the legality of justice.

With all this he was a Presbyterian, and retained his aversion to King _Charles_ I. and his party to his death.

68.

THE EARL OF SHAFTESBURY.

_Anthony Ashley Cooper, created Earl of Shaftesbury 1662._

_Born 1621. Died 1683._

By BURNET.

The man that was in the greatest credit with the Earl of _Southampton_ was Sir _Anthony Ashly Cooper_, who had married his niece, and became afterwards so considerable that he was raised to be Earl of _Shaftsbury_. And since he came to have so great a name, and that I knew him for many years in a very particular manner, I will dwell a little longer on his character; for it was of a very extraordinary composition. He began to make a considerable figure very early. Before he was twenty he came into the House of Commons, and was on the King's side; and undertook to get _Wiltshire_ and _Dorsetshire_ to declare for him: But he was not able to effect it. Yet Prince _Maurice_ breaking articles to a town, that he had got to receive him, furnished him with an excuse to forsake that side, and to turn to the Parliament. He had a wonderful faculty in speaking to a popular a.s.sembly, and could mix both the facetious and the serious way of arguing very agreeably. He had a particular talent to make others trust to his judgment, and depend on it: And he brought over so many to a submission to his opinion, that I never knew any man equal to him in the art of governing parties, and of making himself the head of them. He was as to religion a Deist at best: He had the dotage of Astrology in him to a high degree: He told me, that a _Dutch_ doctor had from the stars foretold him the whole series of his life. But that which was before him, when he told me this, proved false, if he told me true: For he said, he was yet to be a greater man than he had been. He fancied, that after death our souls lived in stars. He had a general knowledge of the slighter parts of learning, but understood little to the bottom: So he triumphed in a rambling way of talking, but argued slightly when he was held close to any point. He had a wonderful faculty at opposing, and running things down; but had not the like force in building up. He had such an extravagant vanity in setting himself out, that it was very disagreeable. He pretended that _Cromwell_ offered to make him King. He was indeed of great use to him in withstanding the enthusiasts of that time. He was one of those who press'd him most to accept of the Kingship, because, as he said afterwards, he was sure it would ruin him. His strength lay in the knowledge of _England_, and of all the considerable men in it. He understood well the size of their understandings, and their tempers: And he knew how to apply himself to them so dextrously, that, tho'

by his changing sides so often it was very visible how little he was to be depended on, yet he was to the last much trusted by all the discontented party. He was not ashamed to reckon up the many turns he had made: And he valued himself on the doing it at the properest season, and in the best manner. This he did with so much vanity, and so little discretion, that he lost many by it. And his reputation was at last run so low, that he could not have held much longer, had he not died in good time, either for his family or for his party: The former would have been ruined, if he had not saved it by betraying the latter.

69.

By DRYDEN.

Some by their Friends, more by themselves thought wise, Oppos'd the Pow'r, to which they could not rise.

Some had in Courts been Great, and thrown from thence, Like Fiends, were harden'd in Impenitence.

Some, by their Monarch's fatal mercy grown, From Pardon'd Rebels, Kinsmen to the Throne, Were raised in Pow'r and publick Office high: Strong Bands, if Bands ungrateful men coud tie.

Of these the false _Achitophel_ was first: A Name to all succeeding Ages curst.

For close Designs, and crooked Counsels fit; Sagacious, Bold, and Turbulent of wit: Restless, unfixt in Principles and Place; In Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace.

A fiery Soul, which working out its way, Fretted the Pigmy-Body to decay: And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay, A daring Pilot in extremity; Pleas'd with the Danger, when the Waves went high He sought the Storms; but for a Calm unfit, Would Steer too nigh the Sands, to boast his Wit.

Great Wits are sure to Madness near alli'd; And thin Part.i.tions do their Bounds divide: Else, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest, Refuse his Age the needful hours of Rest?

Punish a Body which he coud not please; Bankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of Ease?

And all to leave, what with his Toil he won, To that unfeather'd, two-legg'd thing, a Son: Got, while his Soul did huddled Notions trie; And born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.

In Friendship false, implacable in Hate: Resolv'd to Ruine or to Rule the State.

To Compa.s.s this, the Triple Bond he broke; The Pillars of the Publick Safety shook: And fitted _Israel_ for a Foreign Yoke.

Then, seiz'd with Fear, yet still affecting Fame, Usurp'd a Patriot's All-attoning Name.

So easie still it proves in Factious Times, With publick Zeal to cancel private Crimes: How safe is Treason, and how sacred ill, here none can sin against the Peoples Will: Where Crouds can wink; and no offence be known, Since in anothers guilt they find their own.

Yet, Fame deserv'd, no Enemy can grudge; The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.

In _Israels_ Courts ne'r sat an _Abbetbdin_ With more discerning Eyes, or Hands more clean: Unbrib'd, unsought, the Wretched to redress; Swift of Dispatch, and easie of Access.

Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown, With Vertues onely proper to the Gown; Or, had the rankness of the Soil been freed From c.o.c.kle, that opprest the n.o.ble Seed: _David_, for him his tuneful Harp had strung, And Heav'n had wanted one Immortal Song.

But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand; And Fortunes Ice prefers to Vertues Land: _Achitophel_, grown weary to possess A lawful Fame, and lazie Happiness, Disdain'd the Golden Fruit to gather free, And lent the Croud his Arm to shake the Tree.

Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv'd long since, He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince: Held up the Buckler of the Peoples Cause, Against the Crown; and sculk'd behind the Laws, The wish'd occasion of the Plot he takes; Some Circ.u.mstances finds, but more he makes.

By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears Of listning Crouds, with Jealousies and Fears Of Arbitrary Counsels brought to light, And proves the King himself a _Jebusite_.

Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well, Were strong with People easie to Rebel.

For, govern'd by the _Moon_, the giddy _Jews_ Tread the same Track when she the Prime renews: And once in twenty Years, their Scribes Record, By natural Instinct they change their Lord.

_Achitophel_ still wants a Chief, and none Was found so fit as Warlike _Absalon_: Not, that he wish'd his Greatness to create, (For Polit.i.tians neither love nor hate:) But, for he knew, his t.i.tle not allow'd, Would keep him still depending on the Croud: That Kingly pow'r, thus ebbing out, might be Drawn to the Dregs of a Democracie.

70.

THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

_George Villiers, second Duke 1628._

_Born 1628. Died 1687._

By BURNET.

The first of these was a man of n.o.ble presence. He had a great liveliness of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into ridicule with bold figures and natural descriptions. He had no sort of literature: Only he was drawn into chymistry: And for some years he thought he was very near the finding the philosopher's stone; which had the effect that attends on all such men as he was, when they are drawn in, to lay out for it. He had no principles of religion, vertue, or friendship. Pleasure, frolick, or extravagant diversion was all that he laid to heart. He was true to nothing, for he was not true to himself. He had no steadiness nor conduct: He could keep no secret, nor execute any design without spoiling it. He could never fix his thoughts, nor govern his estate, tho' then the greatest in _England_.

He was bred about the King: And for many years he had a great ascendent over him: But he spake of him to all persons with that contempt, that at last he drew a lasting disgrace upon himself. And he at length ruined both body and mind, fortune and reputation equally.

The madness of vice appeared in his person in very eminent instances; since at last he became contemptible and poor, sickly, and sunk in his parts, as well as in all other respects, so that his conversation was as much avoided as ever it had been courted. He found the King, when he came from his travels in the year 45, newly come to _Paris_, sent over by his father when his affairs declined: And finding the King enough inclined to receive ill impressions, he, who was then got into all the impieties and vices of the age, set himself to corrupt the King, in which he was too successful, being seconded in that wicked design by the Lord _Percy_. And to compleat the matter, _Hobbs_ was brought to him, under the pretence of instructing him in mathematicks: And he laid before him his schemes, both with relation to religion and politicks, which made deep and lasting impressions on the King's mind.

So that the main blame of the King's ill principles, and bad morals, was owing to the Duke of _Buckingham_.

71.

By DRYDEN.