too truly said of Villiers 'that he had
studied _the whole body of vice_;' a most fearful censure--a most
significant description of a bad man. 'His parts,' he adds, 'are
disproportionate to the whole, and like a monster, he has more of some,
and less of others, than he should have. He has pulled down all that
nature raised in him, and built himself up again after a model of his
own. He has dammed up all those lights that nature made into the noblest
prospects of the world, and opened other little blind loopholes backward
by turning day into night, and night into day.'

The satiety and consequent misery produced by this terrible life are
ably described by Butler. And it was perhaps partly this wearied,
worn-out spirit that caused Villiers to rush madly into politics for
excitement. In 1666 he asked for the office of Lord President of the
North; it was refused: he became disaffected, raised mutinies, and, at
last, excited the indignation of his too-indulgent sovereign. Charles
dismissed him from his office, after keeping him for some time in
confinement. After this epoch little is heard of Buckingham but what is
disgraceful. He was again restored to Whitehall, and, according to
Pepys, even closeted with Charles, whilst the Duke of York was excluded.
A certain acquaintance of the duke's remonstrated with him upon the
course which Charles now took in Parliament. 'How often have you said to
me,' this person remarked, 'that the king was a weak man, unable to
govern, but to be governed, and that you could command him as you liked?
Why do you suffer him to do these things?'

'Why,' answered the duke, 'I do suffer him to do these things, that I
may hereafter the better command him.' A reply which betrays the most
depraved principle of action, whether towards a sovereign or a friend,
that can be expressed. His influence was for some time supreme, yet he
became the leader of the opposition, and invited to his table the
discontented peers, to whom he satirized the court, and condemned the
king's want of attention to business. Whilst the theatre was ringing
with laughter at the inimitable character of Bayes in the 'Rehearsal,'
the House of Lords was listening with profound attention to the
eloquence that entranced their faculties, making wrong seem right, for
Buckingham was ever heard with attention.

Taking into account his mode of existence, 'which,' says Clarendon, 'was
a life by night more than by day, in all the liberties th