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JOHN WILMOT,

EARL OF ROCHESTER.

His Personal Appearance-Admitted to the private Parties of Charles -His Gallantry in the Dutch War-Quarrel with Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham-Rochester forfeits his Reputation for CourageHis wild Frolics-His frequent Disgraces at Court-Pratices in the Character of Fortune-teller-Burnet's severe Picture of the libertine Poet-Lively Specimen of Rochester's CorrespondenceHis Abduction of Elizabeth Mallet-His Marriage-Character of his Wife--Specimens of their Correspondence-Rochester's Illness -His Religious Doubts - His Death-bed Repentance-His last Moments-Reflections of Archbishop Tillotson.

THERE can be no conduct more cruel, no crime of greater magnitude, than that of an author of established genius lending to impiety or lasciviousness the weight and lustre of his name. As regards the ordinary profligate, or the infidel in social life, inasmuch as their talents are probably of no high order, and their powers of doing mischief contracted to a narrower sphere, so is their example less dangerous and the disease more remediable. But with respect to the man of genius, whose doctrines coexist with the language of his country, the case is widely different. His ravages are extended over a far wider space; he instils his poison into the young and inexperienced, and extends the corruption and its bitterness to unborn generations. Fascinated by alluring descriptions, or ingenious sophistries, the heart that was once chaste becomes polluted, and the faith that hitherto remained unquestioned is undermined, if not entirely destroyed. Genius, however depraved, too frequently

excites admiration where it should raise abhorrence. It carries with it, unfortunately, its own passport, and glitters too often and too successfully through the shroud of obloquy, with which the wise and the virtuous would willingly veil it from the world.

The daring profligate, on whom these remarks have been hazarded, was born at Ditchley in Oxfordshire, on the 10th of April, 1648. His father was Henry Lord Wilmot, who shared the sufferings of Charles the Second after the battle of Worcester, and who was rewarded by that monarch with the Earldom of Rochester. His only surviving child, the subject of this memoir, was educated at the free-school at Burford, near his native place. At the age of twelve he was entered at Wadham College, Oxford. In the several editions of his works are preserved a copy of verses, said to have been composed by him at this early age, addressed to the King on his happy Restoration. The young poet professes himself,

"One whose ambition 'tis for to be known,
By daring loyalty your Wilmot's son."

Anthony Wood questions the authenticity of this early specimen of Rochester's muse. As the verses possess no higher merit than usually attaches itself to similar precocious juvenilities, the question is of very trifling importance.

In the study of the classical authors Rochester made a rapid progress, and is said to have early acquired a taste for their beauties which he retained to the last. Unfortunately, while he was infected with all the indecency of Ovid, he caught none of his refinement.

In the year 1661 he was admitted a Master of Arts in Convocation; Lord Clarendon, the Chancellor of the University, distinguishing him from other candidates, by

affectionately admitting him to the fraternity with a kiss. He afterwards travelled into France and Italy, and, returning from the continent at the age of eighteen, was presented at the dangerous Court of Charles. His demeanour at this period is said to have been remarkable for its modesty. His manners were graceful, his figure tall and slender, and his face handsome and animated. Young as he was, his wit and companionable qualities were speedily discovered, and accordingly before long he became a courtier and a debauchee. Charles especially delighted in his conversation. He invited him to his private suppers, and soon afterwards conferred on him the appointments of a gentleman of the bedchamber, and comptroller of Woodstock Park.

It was shortly after his initiation into the vices of the Court, that, in the winter of 1665, the Earl of Sandwich was sent in quest of the Dutch East India fleet. Rochester was one of the gay band of courtiers who volunteered their services on the occasion. He was present in the "Revenge," during the desperate attack on the fort of Bergen, in Norway, in the port of which town the Dutch fleet had taken refuge. During the action, he particularly distinguished himself by his reckless gallantry. The following year he was present at the great sea-fight of the 3rd of June, on which occasion he was one of the few volunteers who escaped with their lives. On his return, his friends were delighted at discovering a singular improvement in his moral conduct. During a short interval he lived temperately, shunned his former disorderly companions, and even spoke of his past career of dissipation with abhorrence. This creditable reformation, however, was unhappily of no long continuance, and he gradually relapsed into still more daring irregularities. He admitted to Bishop Burnet,

in his last sickness, that for five years together he had been in a continual state of inebriety.

Whether it was that his nerves had become unstrung by this incessant course of dissipation, certain it is that the reputation which he had acquired for valour in the Dutch war, was of extremely brief duration. The result of a quarrel which he had with Sheffield Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke of Buckingham, sufficiently impaired his character for courage with the world.*

Of Rochester's wild freaks and adventures, once so celebrated, many must be looked upon as apocryphal, while many are of a nature the details of which are unfit for insertion. At times he used to amuse himself by wandering about the streets as a beggar, and at others pursued the lowest amours in the meanest disguises. "He found out a footman," says Bishop Burnet, "who knew all the Court, and having furnished him with a red coat and musket as a sentinel, he kept him all the winter long, every night, at the doors of such ladies as he believed might be in intrigues. In the Court a sentinel is little minded, and is believed to be posted by a captain of the guards to hinder a combat: so this man saw who walked about and visited at forbidden hours. By this means Lord Rochester made many discoveries. And when he was well furnished with materials, he used to retire into the country for a month or two to write libels. Once, being drunk, he intended to give the King a libel that he had written on some ladies; but by a mistake he gave him one written on himself."

The liberties which Rochester took with the good

*For an account of this bloodless and uninteresting quarrel, see Buckingham's own account of it, not improbably a partial one, in his Works, vol. ii. p. 10.

VOL. III.

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humoured monarch led to his frequent, though usually brief, dismissals from Court. During one of his disgraces he took up his abode in the city, and, under an assumed name, obtained admittance to the feasts and amusements of the sober citizens. Like George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, he seems to have been gifted with the peculiar art of being able to adapt himself to all societies; and, accordingly, by inveighing against the profligacy of the Court, and the shamelessness of the royal mistresses, he made himself extremely popular with his new friends. It was not long, however, according to Count Hamilton, before "he grew sick of their cramming and endless invitations." His most celebrated frolic, which was in the character of a fortune-teller and empiric, was practised during one of his banishments from the Court. stage on Tower Hill was long remembered by the citizens. His address to the public on this occasion, in which he signs himself Alexander Bendo, and professes to cure all disorders, to restore beauty, and a hundred other specific absurdities, will be found in the different editions of his works.

His

Among the formerly excluded passages of Burnet's History we find the following severe picture of the libertine poet. "He seemed to have freed himself from all impressions of virtue or religion, of honour or goodnature. He delivered himself without either restraint or decency to all the pleasures of wine and women. He had but one maxim, to which he adhered firmly, that he had to do everything, and deny himself in nothing, that might maintain his greatness. He was unhappily made for drunkenness, for he had drunk all his friends dead, and was able to subdue two or three sets of drunkards one after another: so it scarce ever appeared that he was disordered after the greatest drinking: an hour or two

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