[289] 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.
He is supposed to have contrived with one of Charles's mistress's the following stratagem to cure that monarch of the nocturnal rambles to which he addicted himself. He agreed to go out one night with him to visit a celebrated house of intrigue, where he told his Majesty the finest women in England were to be found. The King made no scruple to assume his usual disguise and accompany him, and while he was engaged with one of the ladies of pleasure, being before instructed by Rochester how to behave, she pick'd his pocket of all his money and watch, which the king did not immediately miss. Neither the people of the house, nor the girl herself was made acquainted with the quality of their visitor, nor had the least suspicion who he was. When the intrigue was ended, the King enquired for Rochester, but was told he had quitted the house, without taking leave. But into what embarassment was he thrown when upon searching his pockets, in order to discharge the reckoning, he found his money gone; he was then reduced to ask the favour of the Jezebel to give him credit till tomorrow, as the gentleman who came in with him had not returned, who was to have pay'd for both. The consequence of this request was, he was abused, and laughed at; and the old woman told him, that she had often been served such dirty tricks, and would not permit him to stir till the reckoning was paid, and then called one of her bullies to take care of him. In this [290] ridiculous distress stood the British monarch; the prisoner of a bawd, and the life upon whom the nation's hopes were fixed, put in the power of a ruffian. After many altercations the King at last proposed, that she should accept a ring which he then took off his finger, in pledge for her money, which she likewise refused, and told him, that as she was no judge of the value of the ring, she did not chuse to accept such pledges. The King then desired that a Jeweller might be called to give his opinion of the value of it, but he was answered, that the expedient was impracticable, as no jeweller could then be supposed to be out of bed. After much entreaty his Majesty at last prevailed upon the fellow, to knock up a jeweller and shew him the ring, which as soon as he had inspected, he stood amazed, and enquired, with eyes fixed upon the fellow, who he had got in his house? to which he answered, a black-looking ugly son of a w——, who had no money in his pocket, and was obliged to pawn his ring. The ring, says the jeweller, is so immensely rich, that but one man in the nation could afford to wear it; and that one is the King. The jeweller being astonished at this accident, went out with the bully, in order to be fully satisfied of so extraordinary an affair; and as soon as he entered the room, he fell on his knees, and with the utmost respect presented the ring to his Majesty. The old Jezebel and the bully finding the extraordinary quality of their guest, were now confounded, and asked pardon most submissively on their knees. The King in the best natured manner forgave them, and laughing, asked them, whether the ring would not bear another bottle.
Thus ended this adventure, in which the King learned how dangerous it was to risk his person in night-frolics; and could not [291] but severely reprove Rochester for acting such a part towards him; however he sincerely resolved never again to be guilty of the like indiscretion.
These are the most material of the adventures, and libertine courses of the lord Rochester, which historians and biographers have transmitted to posterity; we shall now consider him as an author.
He seems to have been too strongly tinctured with that vice which belongs more to literary people, than to any other profession under the fun, viz. envy. That lord Rochester was envious, and jealous of the reputation of other men of eminence, appears abundantly clear from his behaviour to Dryden, which could proceed from no other principle; as his malice towards him had never discovered itself till the tragedies of that great poet met with such general applause, and his poems were universally esteemed. Such was the inveteracy he shewed to Mr. Dryden, that he set up John Crown, an obscure man, in opposition to him, and recommended him to the King to compose a masque for the court, which was really the business of the poet laureat; but when Crown's Conquest of Jerusalem met with as extravagant success as Dryden's Almanzor's, his lordship then withdrew his favour from Crown, as if he would be still in contradiction to the public. His malice to Dryden is said to have still further discovered itself, in hiring ruffians to cudgel him for a satire he was supposed to be the author of, which was at once malicious, cowardly, and cruel: But of this we shall give a fuller account in the life of Mr. Dryden.
Mr. Wolsely, in his preface to Valentinian, a tragedy, altered by lord Rochester from Fletcher, has given a character of his lordship and his writings, by no means consistent with that idea, [292] which other writers, and common tradition, dispose us to form of him.
'He was a wonderful man, says he, whether we consider the constant good sense, and agreeable mirth of his ordinary conversation, or the vast reach and compass of his inventions, and the amazing depth of his retired thoughts; the uncommon graces of his fashion, or the inimitable turns of his wit, the becoming gentleness, the bewitching softness of his civility, or the force and fitness of his satire; for as he was both the delight, the love, and the dotage of the women, so was he a continued curb to impertinence, and the public censure of folly; never did man stay in his company unentertained, or leave it uninstructed; never was his understanding biassed, or his pleasantness forced; never did he laugh in the wrong place, or prostitute his sense to serve his luxury; never did he stab into the wounds of fallen virtue, with a base and a cowardly insult, or smooth the face of prosperous villany, with the paint and washes of a mercenary wit; never did he spare a sop for being rich, or flatter a knave for being great. He had a wit that was accompanied with an unaffected greatness of mind, and a natural love to justice and truth; a wit that was in perpetual war with knavery, and ever attacking those kind of vices most, whose malignity was like to be the most dissusive, such as tended more immediately to the prejudice of public bodies; and were a common nusance to the happiness of human kind. Never was his pen drawn but on the side of good sense, and usually employed like the arms of the ancient heroes, to stop the progress of arbitrary oppression, and beat down the brutishness of headstrong [293] will: to do his King and country justice, upon such public state thieves as would beggar a kingdom to enrich themselves: these were the vermin whom to his eternal honour his pen was continually pricking and goading; a pen, if not so happy in the success, yet as generous in the aim, as either the sword of Theseus, or the club of Hercules; nor was it less sharp than that, or less weighty than this. If he did not take so much care of himself as he ought, he had the humanity however, to wish well to others; and I think I may truly affirm he did the world as much good by a right application of satire, as he hurt himself by a wrong pursuit of pleasure.'
In this amiable light has Mr. Wolsely drawn our author, and nothing is more certain, than that it is a portraiture of the imagination, warmed with gratitude, or friendship, and bears but little or no resemblance to that of Rochester; can he whose satire is always levelled at particular persons, be said to be the terror of knaves, and the public foe of vice, when he himself has acknowledged that he satirized only to gratify his resentment; for it was his opinion, that writing satires without being in a rage, was like killing in cold blood. Was his conversation instructive whose mouth was full of obscenity; and was he a friend to his country, who diffused a dangerous venom thro' his works to corrupt its members? in which, it is to be feared he has been but too successful. Did he never smooth the face of prosperous villainy, as, Mr. Wolsely expresses it, the scope of whose life was to promote and encourage the most licentious debauchery, and to unhinge all the principles of honour?—Either Mr. Wolsely must be strangely mistaken? or all other writers who have given us [294] accounts of Rochester must be so; and as his single assertions are not equal to the united authorities of so many, we may reasonably reject his testimony as a deviation from truth.
We have now seen these scenes of my lord Rochester's life, in which he appears to little advantage; it is with infinite pleasure we can take a view of the brighter side of his character; to do which, we must attend him to his death-bed. Had he been the amiable man Mr. Wolsely represents him, he needed not have suffered so many pangs of remorse, nor felt the horrors of conscience, nor been driven almost to despair by his reflexions on a mispent life.
Rochester lived a profligate, but he died a penitent. He lived in defiance of all principles; but when he felt the cold hand of death upon him, he reflected on his folly, and saw that the portion of iniquity is, at last, sure to be only pain and anguish.