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to pay ship-money. As a member of parliament, and the continent, he became serviceable in Holland to one of the commissioners appointed to treat with the the Prince of Orange, accompanied the expedition kirg at Oxford, he advocated pacific measures; and, which brought about the Revolution, and was rebeing an enemy to arbitrary power both in church warded with the bishopric of Salisbury. Both as a and state, he refused, in the Westminster assembly prelate and a literary man, he spent the remainder for settling the form of church government, to ad- of his life with usefulness and activity, till its termit the assumed divine right of presbytery. Under mination in 1715. Burnet left in manuscript his Cromwell he held several high appointments; and celebrated History of My Own Times, giving an outduring the government of the Protector's son Richard, line of the events of the civil war and commonacted as one of the keepers of the great seal. At the wealth, and a full narration of what took place from Restoration, he retired to his estate in Wiltshire, the Restoration to the year 1713, during which which continued to be his principal residence till his period the author advanced from his seventeenth to death in 1676. Whitelocke's ' Memorials' not hav- his seventieth year. As he had, under various ciring been intended for publication, are almost wholly cumstances, personally known the conspicuous chawritten in the form of a diary, and are to be regarded racters of a whole century, and penetrated most of rather as a collection of historical materials than as the state secrets of a period nearly as long, he has history itself. In a posthumous volume of Essays, been able to exhibit all these in his work with a Ecclesiastical and Civil, he strongly advocates reli- felicity not inferior to Clarendon's, though allowance gious toleration.
is also required to be made in his case for political prejudices. Foreseeing that the freedom with which he delivered his opinions concerning men of all ranks
and parties would give offence in many quarters, GILBERT BURNET was the son of a Scottish ad- Bishop Burnet ordered, in his will, that his history vocate of reputation, and nephew to Johnston of should not be published till six years after his death;
so that it did not make its appearance till 1723.* Its publication, as might have been expected, was a signal for the commencement of numerous attacks on the reputation of the author, whose veracity and fairness were loudly impeached. It fell under the lash of the Tory wits-Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot; by the last of whom it was ridiculed in a humorous production, entitled Memoirs of P. P., Clerk of this Parish. In the opinion of a more impartial posterity, however, Bishop Burnet's honest freedom of speech, his intrepid exposure of injustice and corruption, in what rank soever he found it to exist, and the liveliness and general accuracy with which the events and characters of his age are described, are far more than sufficient to counterbalance his garrulous vanity and self-importance, and a singular tendency to view persons and occurrences with the spirit and credulity of a partisan. There is no good reason to suppose that he willingly distorts the truth ; though, in his preface, he makes the following admission that some things may have been over-coloured. 'I find that the long experience I have had of the baseness,
the malice, and the falsehood of mankind, has inGilbert Burnet.
clined me to be apt to think generally the worst
both of men and parties; and, indeed, the peevishWarriston, one of the principal popular leaders ness, the ill-nature, and the ambition of many clergyof the civil war in Scotland. He was born at men, has sharpened my spirits too much against Edinburgh in 1643, and after entering life as a them: so I warn my reader to take all that I say on clergyman of his native church, and holding for these heads with some grains of allowance, though I some years the divinity professorship at Glasgow, have watched over myself and my pen so carefully, he removed to a benefice in London, where, partly that I hope there is no great occasion for this by his talents, and partly through forward and offi- apology. I have written,' says he, • with a design to cious habits, he rendered himself the confidant of make both myself and my readers wiser and better, many high political persons. In 1679 he greatly and to lay open the good and bad of all sides and increased his reputation by publishing the first parties as clearly and impartially as I myself undervolume of a History of the Reformation in England. stood it; concealing nothing that I thought fit to be The appearance of this work at the time when the known, and representing things in their natural Popish Plot was engaging public attention, pro- colours, without art or disguise, without any regard cured to the author the thanks of both houses of to kindred or friends, to parties or interests: for I parliament, with a request that he would complete do solemnly say this to the world, and make my the history. This he did by publishing two addi- humble appeal upon it to the great God of truth, tional volumes in 1681 and 1714; and the work is that I tell the truth on all occasions, as fully and considered the best existing account
of the important freely as upon my best inquiry I have been able to occurrences of which it treats. The conduct of find it out." Where things appear doubtful, I deliver Charles II. towards the conclusion of his reign was them with the same uncertainty to the world.' Dr highly offensive to Burnet, who formed an intimate King of Oxford says in his . Anecdotes of His Own connexion with the opposition party, and even wrote Times,' 'I knew Burnet, bishop of Salisbury; he was a letter to the king, freely censuring both his public acts and private vices. Both in this and the suc * Burnet's sons, by whom it was published, took the liberty ceeding reign, his opinions brought him into dis- of suppressing many passages, which were restored in the pleasure with the court. Having, therefore, retired to Oxford edition of 1823.
a furious party-man, and easily imposed on by any poor; such as were so by natural infirmity or folly, !;ing spirit of his own faction ; but he was a better as impotent persons, and madmen or idiots; such as pastor than any man who is now seated on the were so by accident, as sick or maimed persons; and bishops' bench. Although he left a large family such as, by their idleness, did cast themselves into when he died, three sons and two daughters (if I poverty. So the king ordered the Greyfriars' church, rightly remember), yet he left them nothing more near Newgate, with the revenues belonging to it, to than their mother's fortune. He always declared, be a house for orphans; St Bartholomew's, near Smiththat he should think himself guilty of the greatest field, to be an hospital; and gave his own house of crime if he were to raise fortunes for his children out Bridewell to be a place of correction and work for such of the revenue of his bishopric.'*
as were wilfully idle. He also confirmed and enlarged The principal works of Bishop Burnet, in addition the grant for the hospital of St Thomas in Southwark, to those already mentioned, are Memoirs of the Dukes which he had erected and endowed in August last. of Hamilton (1676); An Account of the Life and Death And when he set his hand to these foundations, which of the Earl of Rochester (1680), whom he attended on was not done before the 5th of June this year, he his penitent death-bed; The Lires of Sir Matthew thanked God that had prolonged his life till he had Hale and Bishop Bedell (1682 and 1685); a transla- finished that design. So he was the first founder of tion of Sir Thomas More's • Utopia ;'† and various those houses, which, by many great additions since theological treatises, among which is an Erposition that time, have risen to be amongst the noblest in of the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England. Europe. His style, though too unpolished to place him in the He expressed, in the whole course of his sickness, foremost rank of historical writers, is spirited and great submission to the will of God, and seemed glad vigorous; while his works afford sufficient evidence at the approaches of death ; only, the consideration that to various and extensive knowledge he added of religion and the church touched him much; and great acuteness in the discrimination of human cha- upon that account he said he was desirous of life. racter. As he composed with great ease and rapidity,
His distemper rather increased than abated; and avoided long and intricate sentences, his pages Upon which a confident woman came, and undertook
so that the physicians had no hope of his recovery. are much more readable than those of Clarendon.
his cure, if he might be put into her hands. This was
done, and the physicians were put from him, upon [Death and Character of Edward VI.]
this pretence, that, they having no hopes of his reco(From the History of the Reformation.')
very, in a desperate case desperate remedies were to
be applied. This was said to be the Duke of NorIn the beginning of January this year (1553), he thumberland's adrice in particular; and it increased was seized with a deep cough, and all medicines that the people's jealousy of him, when they saw the king were used did rather increase than lessen it. He was grow sensibly worse every day after he came under so ill when the parliament met, that he was not able the woman's care; which becoming so plain, she was to go to Westminster, but ordered their first meeting put from him, and the physicians were again sent for, and the sermon to be at Whitehall. In the time of and took him into their charge. But if they had small his sickness, Bishop Ridley preached before him, and hopes before, they had none at all now. Death thus took occasion to run out much on works of charity, hastening on him, the Duke of Northumberland, who and the obligation that lay on men of high condition had done but half his work, except he had got the to be eminent in good works. This touched the king king's sisters in his hands, got the council to write to to the quick ; so that, presently after the sermon, he then in the king's namne, inviting them to come and sent for the bishop. And, after he had commanded keep him company in his sickness. But as they were him to sit down by him, and be covered, he resumed on the way, on the 6th of July, his spirits and body inost of the heads of the sermon, and said he looked were so sunk, that he found death approaching; and upon himself as chiefly touched by it. He desired so he composed himself to die in a most devout manhim, as he had already given him the exhortation in ner. His whole exercise was in short prayers and ejageneral, so to direct him to do his duty in that particulations. The last that he was heard to use was in cular. The bishop, astonished at this tenderness in these words: ‘Lord God, deliver me out of this miserable so young a prince, burst forth in tears, expressing and wretched life, and take me among thy chosen ; howhow much he was overjoyed to see such inclinations beit, not my will, but thine be done; Lord, I commit in him ; but told him he must take time to think on my spirit to thee. Oh Lord, thou knowest how happy it it, and craved leave to consult with the lord-mayor were for me to be with thee; yet, for thy chosen's sake, and court of aldermen. So the king writ by him to send me life and health, that I may truly serve thee. them to consult speedily how the poor should be re-Oh my Lord God, bless my people,-and save thine inlieved. They considered there were three sorts of heritance. Oh Lord God, save thy chosen people of
England; oh Lord God, defend this realm from pa* King's · Anecdotes,' p. 185. Sir James Mackintosh (Edin pistry, and maintain thy true religion, that I and my burgh Review, vol. xxxvi. p. 15) characterises Burnet as "a people may praise thy holy name, for Jesus Christ his zealous and avowed partisan, but an honest writer, whose sake' Seeing some about him, he seemed troubled account of facts is seldom substantially erroneous, though it be that they were so near, and had heard him; but, with often inaccurate in points of form and detail.' Dr Johnson's a pleasant countenance, he said he had been praying opinion is thus recorded by Boswell :-— Burnet's History of Ilis to God. And soon after, the pangs of death coming Own Times is very entertaining: the style, indeed, is mere upon him, he said to Sir Henry Sidney, who was holdchit-chat. I do not believe that Burnet intentionally lied ; but | ing him in his arms, “I am faint; Lord have mercy he was so much prejudiced, that he took no pains to find out the truth. He was like a man who resolves to regulate his time by his innocent soul.
on me, and receive my spirit;' and so he breathed out a certain watch, but will not inquire whether the watch is
Thus died King Edward VI., that incomparable right or not.' Horace Walpole says—Burnet's style and manner are very interesting ; it seems as if he had just come from the young prince. He was then in the sixteenth year of king's closet, or from the apartments of the men whom he his age, and was counted the wonder of that time. describes, and was telling his reader, in plain honest terms,
He was not only learned in the tongues, and other what he had seen and heard."
liberal sciences, but knew well the state of his king. + An extract from this will be found at p. 60 of the present dom. He kept a book, in which he writ the characvolume.
ters that were given him of all the chief men of the * The king was sixteen years of age.
nation, all the judges, lord-lieutenants, and justices
of the peace over England : in it he had marked down logical learning, chiefly in the study of the Scriptures. their way of living, and their zeal for religion. He But that which excelled all the rest was, he was poshad studied the matter of the mint, with the exchange sessed with the highest and noblest sense of divine and value of money; so that he understood it well, things that I ever saw in any man. He had no reas appears by his journal. He also understood forti- gard to his person, unless it was to mortify it by a fication, and designed well. He knew all the har. constant low diet, that was like a perpetual fast. He bours and ports, both of his own dominions, and of had a contempt both of wealth and reputation. He France and Scotland; and how much water they had, seemed to have the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and what was the way of coming into them. He had and to desire that all other persons should think as acquired great knowledge of foreign affairs ; so that meanly of him as he did himself. He bore all sorts he talked with the ambassadors about them in such a of ill usage and reproach like a man that took pleamanner, that they filled all the world with the highest sure in it. He had so subdued the natural heat of opinion of him that was possible; which appears in his temper, that in a great variety of accidents, and most of the histories of that age. He had great quick in a course of twenty-two years' intimate conversation ness of apprehension; and, being mistrustful of his with him, I never observed the least sign of passion memory, used to take notes of almost everything he but upon one single occasion. He brought himself heard; he writ these first in Greek characters, that into so composed a gravity, that I never saw him those about him might not understand them; and laugh, and but seldom smile. And he kept himself afterwards writ them out in his journal. He had a in such a constant recollection, that I do not rememcopy brought him of everything that passed in coun ber that ever I heard him say one idle word. There cil, which he put in a chest, and kept the key of that was a visible tendency in all he said to raise his own always himself.
mind, and those he conversed with, to serious reflecIn a word, the natural and acquired perfections of tions. He seemed to be in a perpetual meditation. his mind were wonderful ; but his virtues and true and though the whole course of his life was strict and piety were yet more extraordinary. (He) was ascetical, yet he had nothing of the sourness of tentender and compassionate in a high measure; so that per that generally possesses men of that sort. He was he was much against taking away the lives of here the freest from superstition, of censuring others, or of tics; and therefore said to Cranmer, when he per- imposing his own methods on them, possible; so that suaded him to sign the warrant for the burning of he did not so much as recommend them to others, Joan of Kent, that he was not willing to do it, because He said there was a diversity of tempers, and every man he thought that was to send her quick to hell. He was to watch over his own, and to turn it in the best expressed great tenderness to the miseries of the poor manner he could. His thoughts were lively, oft out of in his sickness, as hath been already shown. He took the way, and surprising, yet just and genuine. And he particular care of the suits of all poor persons; and had laid together in his memory the greatest treasure gave Dr Cox special charge to see that their petitions of the best and wisest of all the ancient sayings of the were speedily answered, and used oft to consult with heathens as well as Christians, that I have ever known him how to get their matters set forward. He was an any man master of; and he used them in the aptest exact keeper of his word ; and therefore, as appears manner possible. He had been bred up with the by his journal, was most careful to pay his debts, and greatest aversion imaginable to the whole frame of the to keep his credit, knowing that to be the chief nerve church of England. From Scotland, his father sent of government; since a prince that breaks his faith, him to travel. He spent some years in France, and and loses his credit, has thrown up that which he can spoke that language like one born there. He caine never recover, and made himself liable to perpetual afterwards and settled in Scotland, and had Presbydistrusts and extreme contempt.
terian ordination ; but he quickly broke through the He had, above all things, a great regard to religion. prejudices of his education. His preaching had a He took notes of such things as he heard in sermons, sublimity both of thought and expression in it. The which more especially concerned himself; and made grace and gravity of his pronunciation was such, that his measures of all men by their zeal in that matter. few heard him without a very sensible emotion : '1 am
All men who saw and observed these qualities sure I never did. His style was rather too fine; but in him, looked on him as one raised by God for most there was a majesty and beauty in it that left so deep extraordinary ends ; and when he died, concluded an impression, that I cannot yet forget the sermons I that the sing of England had been great, that had heard him preach thirty years ago. And yet with provoked God to take from them a prince, under this he seemed to look on himself as so ordinary a whose government they were like to have seen such preacher, that while he had a cure, he was ready to blessed times. He was so affable and sweet-natured, employ all others. And when he was a bishop, he chose that all had free access to him at all times ; by which to preach to small auditories, and would never give he came to be most universally beloved ; and all the notice beforehand : he had, indeed, a very low voice, high things that could be devised were said by the and so could not be heard by a great crowd. people to express their esteem of him.
Upon his coming to me [in London), I was amazed
to see him, at above seventy, look still so fresh and [Character of Leighton, Bishop of Dumblane— His well, that age seemed as if it were to stand still with Death.]
him. His hair was still black, and all his motions (From the History of My Own Times.']
were lively. He had the same quickness of thought,
and strength of memory, but, above all, the same heat He was the son of Dr Leighton, who had in Arch- and life of devotion, that I had ever seen in him. bishop Laud's time writ “Zion's Plea against the When I took notice to him upon my first seeing him Prelates,' for which he was condemned in the Star- how well he looked, he told me he was very near his Chamber to have his ears cut and his nose slit. He end for all that, and his work and journey both were was a man of a violent and ungoverned heat. He now almost done. This at that time made no great sent his eldest son Robert to be bred in Scotland, who impression on me. He was the next day taken with was accounted a saint from his youth up. He had an oppression, and as it seemed with a cold and with great quickness of parts, a lively apprehension, with stitches, which was indeed a pleurisy. a charming vivacity of thought and
The next day Leighton sunk so, that both speech had the greatest command of the purest Latin that and sense went away of a sudden. And he continued ever I knew in any man. He was a master both of panting about twelve hours, and then dicd without (reck and Hebrew, and of the whole compass of theo- pangs or convulsions. I was by him all the while.
Thus I lost him who had been for so many years the he passed through eighteen years of great inequalichief guide of my whole life. He had lived ten years ties; unhappy in the war, in the loss of his father, in Sussex, in great privacy, dividing his time wholly and of the crown of England. Scotland did not only between study and retirement, and the doing of good ; receive him, though upon terms hard of digestion, but for in the parish where he lived, and in the parishes made an attempt upon England for him, though a round about, he was always employed in preaching, feeble one. He lost the battle of Worcester with too and in reading prayers. He distributed all he had much indifference. And then he showed more care in charities, choosing rather to have it go through of his person than became one who had so much at other people's hands than his own; for I was his stake. He wandered about England for ten weeks almoner in London. He had gathered a well-chosen after that, hiding from place to place. But, under library of curious as well as useful books, which he all the apprehensions he had then upon him, he showed left to the diocese of Dumblane for the use of the a temper so careless, and so much turned to levity, clergy there, that country being ill provided with that he was then diverting himself with little housebooks. He lamented oft to me the stupidity that he hold sports, in as unconcerned a manner as if he had observed among the commons of England, who seemed made no loss, and had been in no danger at all. He to be much more insensible in the matters of religion got at last out of England. But he had been obliged than the commons of Scotland were. He retained to so many who had been faithful to him, and careful still a peculiar inclination to Scotland ; and if he of him, that he seemed afterwards to resolve to make had seen any prospect of doing good there, he would an equal return to them all ; and finding it not easy have gone and lived and died among them. In the to reward them all as they deserved, he forgot them short time that the affairs of Scotland were in the all alike. Most princes seem to have this pretty deep Duke of Monmouth's hands, that duke had been pos- in them, and to think that they ought never to resessed with such an opinion of him, that he moved member past services, but that their acceptance of the king to write to him, to go and at least live in them is a full reward. He, of all in our age, exerted Scotland, if he would not engage in a bishopric there. this piece of prerogative in the amplest manner; for But that fell with that duke's credit. He was in his he never seemed to charge his memory, or to trouble last years turned to a greater severity against popery his thoughts, with the sense of any of the services that than I had imagined a man of his temper and of his had been done him. While he was abroad at Paris, largeness in point of opinion was capable of. He Colen,' or Brussels, he never seemed to lay anything spoke of the corruptions, of the secular spirit, and of to heart. He pursued all his diversions and irregular the cruelty that appeared in that church, with an pleasures in a free career, and seemed to be as serene extraordinary concern; and lamented the shameful under the loss of a crown as the greatest philosopher advances that we seemed to be making towards popery. could have been. Nor did he willingly hearken to He did this with a tenderness and an edge that i did any of those projects with which he often complained not expect from so recluse and mortified a man. He that his chancellor persecuted him. That in which looked on the state the church of England was in he seemed most concerned was, to find money for supwith very melancholy reflections, and was very uneasy porting his expense. And it was often said, that if at an expression then much used, that it was the best Cromwell would have compounded the matter, and constituted church in the world. He thought it was have given him a good round pension, that he might truly so with relation to the doctrine, the worship, have been induced to resign his title to him. During and the main part of our government; but as to the his exile, he delivered himself so entirely to his pleaadministration, both with relation to the ecclesiasti- sures, that he became incapable of application. He cal courts and the pastoral care, he looked on it as spent little of his time in reading or study, and yet one of the most corrupt he had ever seen. He thought less in thinking. And in the state his affairs were we looked like a fair carcass of a body without a then in, he accustomed himself to say to every person, spirit, without that zeal, that strictness of life, and and upon all occasions, that which he thought would that laboriousness in the clergy, that became us. please most ; so that words or promises went very
There were two remarkable circumstances in his easily from him. And he had so ill an opinion of death. He used often to say, that if he were to choose mankind, that he thought the great art of living and a place to die in, it should be an inn; it looking like governing was, to manage all things and all persons a pilgrim's going home, to whom this world was all with a depth of craft and dissimulation. And in that as an inn, and who was weary of the noise and con- few men in the world could put on the appearances fusion in it. He added, that the officious tenderness of sincerity better than he could ; uuder which so and care of friends was an entanglement to a dying much artifice was usually hid, that in conclusion he man; and that the unconcerned attendance of those could deceive none, for all were become mistrustful that could be procured in such a place would give of him. He had great vices, but scarce any virtues less disturbance. And he obtained what he desired, to correct them. He had in him some vices that were for he died at the Bell Inn in Warwick Lane. Another less hurtful, which corrected his more hurtful ones. circumstance was, that while he was bishop in Scot- He was, during the active part of life, given up to land, he took what his tenants were pleased to pay sloth and lewdness to such a degree, that he hated him. So that there was a great arrear due, which was business, and could not bear the engaging in anything raised slowly by one whom he left in trust with his that gave him much trouble, or put him under any affairs there. And the last payment that he could constraint. And though he desired to become absoexpect from thence was returned up to him about six lute, and to overturn both our religion and our laws, weeks before his death. So that his provision and yet he would neither run the risk, nor give himself journey failed both at once.
the trouble, which so great a design required. He had an appearance of gentleness in his outward de
portment; but he seemed to have no bowels nor [Character of Charles II.)
tenderness in his nature, and in the end of his life
he became cruel. [From the same.)
He was apt to forgive all crimes,
eren blood itself, yet he never forgave anything that Thus lived and died King Charles II. He was the was done against himself, after his first and general greatest instance in history of the various revolutions act of indemnity, which was to be reckoned as done of which any one man seemed capable. He was bred rather upon maxims of state than inclinations of up the first twelve years of his life with the splendour that became the heir of so great a crown. After that,
mercy. He delivered himself up to a most enormous tion of popery, make such a chain of black actions, course of vice, without any sort of restraint, even from flowing from blacker designs, that it amazed those the consideration of the nearest relations. The most who had known all this to see with what impudent studied extravagances that way seemed, to the rery strains of flattery addresses were penned during his last, to be much delighted in and pursued by him. life, and yet more grossly after his death. His conHe had the art of making all people grow fond of him tributing so much to the raising the greatness of at first, by a softness in his whole way of conversation, France, chiefly at sea, was such an error, that it could as he was certainly the best-bred man of the age. not flow from want of thought, or of true sense. But when it appeared how little could be built on Ruvigny told me he desired that all the methods the his promise, they were cured of the fondness that he French took in the increase and conduct of their paral was apt to raise in them. When he saw young men force might be sent him; and he said he seemed to of quality, who had something more than ordinary in study them with concern and zeal. He showed what them, he drew them about him, and set himself to errors they committed, and how they ought to be corcorrupt them both in religion and morality ; in which rected, as if he had been a viceroy to France, rather he proved so unhappily successful, that he left Eng. than a king that ought to have watched over and land much changed at his death from what he had prevented the progress they made, as the greatest of found it at his restoration. He loved to talk over all all the mischiefs that could happen to him or to his the stories of his life to every new man that came people. They that judged the most favourably of about him. His stay in Scotland, and the share he this, thought it was done out of revenge to the Dutch, had in the war of Paris, in carrying messages from that, with the assistance of so great a feet as France the one side to the other, were his common topics. could join to his own, he might be able to destroy He went over these in a very graceful manner, but them. But others put a worse construction on it; so often and so copiously, that all those who had been and thought, that seeing he could not quite master long accustomed to them grew weary of them; and or deceive his subjects by his own strength and mawhen he entered on those stories, they usually with nagement, he was willing to help forward the greatdrew. So that he often began them in a full audience, ness of the French at sea, that by their assistance he and before he had done, there were not above four or might more certainly subdue his own people; accord. five persons left about him, which drew a serere jest ing to what was generally believed to have fallen from from Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. He said he won Lord Clifford, that if the king must be in a depend. dered to see a man have so good a memory as to re-ence, it was better to pay it to a great and generous peat the same story without losing the least circum- king, than to five hundred of his own insolent substance, and yet not remember that he had told it to jects. the same persons the very day before. This made No part of his character looked wickeder, as well hiin fond of strangers, for they hearkened to all his as meaner, than that he, all the while that he was often-repeated stories, and went away as in a rapture professing to be of the church of England, expressing at such an uncommon condescension in a king. both zeal and affection to it, was yet secretly recon
His person and temper, his vices as well as his for- ciled to the church of Rome; thus mocking God, and tunes, resemble the character that we have given us deceiving the world with so gross a prevarication. of Tiberius so much, that it were easy to draw the And his not having the honesty or courage to own it parallel between them. Tiberius's banishment, and at the last ; his not showing any sign of the least rehis coming afterwards to reign, makes the comparison morse for his ill-led life, or any tenderness either for in that respect come pretty near. His hating of busi- his subjects in general, or for the queen and his serness, and his love of pleasures ; his raising of favourites, vants; and his recommending only his mistresses and and trusting them entirely; and his pulling them their children to his brother's care, would have been down, and hating them excessively; his art of cover a strange conclusion to any other's life, but was well ing deep designs, particularly of revenge, with an enough suited to all the other parts of his. appearance of softness, brings them so near a likeness, that I did not wonder much to observe the resemblance of their faces and persons. At Rome, I saw
(The Czar Peter in England in 1698.] one of the last statues made for Tiberius, after he had
(From the same.] lost his teeth. But, bating the alteration which that I mentioned, in the relation of the former year, the made, it was so like King Charles, that Prince Borg- Czar's coming out of his own country, on which I will hese and Signior Dominico, to whom it belonged, now enlarge. He came this winter over to England, did agree with me in thinking that it looked like a and stayed some months among us. I waited often statue made for him.
on him, and was ordered, both by the king and the Few things ever went near his heart. The Duke of archbishop and bishops, to attend upon him, and to Gloucester's death seemed to touch him much. But offer him such informations of our religion and conthose who knew him best, thought it was because he stitution as he was willing to receive. I had good inhad lost him by whom only he could have balanced terpreters, so I had much free discourse with him. the surviving brother, whom he hated, and yet em- He is a man of a very hot temper, soon inflamed, and broiled all his affairs to preserve the succession to very brutal in his passion. He raises his natural heat him.
by drinking much brandy, which he rectifies himself His ill conduct in the first Dutch war, and those with great application ; he is subject to convulsive terrible calamities of the plague and fire of London, motions all over his body, and his head seems to be with that loss and reproach which he suffered by the affected with these ; he wants not capacity, and has a insult at Chatham, made all people conclude there larger measure of knowledge than might be expected was a curse upon his government. His throwing the from his education, which was very indifferent ; a want public hatred at that time upon Lord Clarendon was of judgment, with an instability of temper, appear both unjust and ungrateful. And when his people in him too often and too evidently ; he is mechanihad brought him out of all his difficulties upon his cally turned, and seems designed by nature rather to entering into the triple alliance, his selling that to be a ship-carpenter than a great prince. This was his France, and his entering on the second Dutch war chief study and exercise while he stayed here; he with as little colour as he had for the first ; his wrought much with his own hands, and made all beginning it with the attempt or the Dutch Smyrna about him work at the models of ships. He told me fleet, the shutting up the exchequer, and his declara- he designed a great fleet at Azuph, and with it to tion for toleration, which was a step for the introduc- l attack the Turkish empire ; but he did not seem cap.