CHARLES, Earl of Peterborough and Monmouth, celebrated for his extraordinary exploits both by sea and land, was the son of John, Lord Mordaunt, Viscount Avalon, and was born about the year 1658. He was brought up at the profligate court of Charles II., where he learned early to advocate scepticism and play the libertine. Sated with court pleasures and longing for adventure, he joined Sir John Narborough's fleet in his seventeenth year, and set out for the Mediterranean waters to strike a blow at the Algerine corsairs who then preyed upon the industry of the British trader. On the night of the 14th January 1675 he witnessed the destruction of the corsair ships in the harbour of Tripoli, and fought gallantly by the side of Lieutenant Cloudsley Shovel, who had the command of that daring expedition. On his return to England in 1677 he succeeded to the titles and estates of his father, who had died during his absence; and before he had attained to man's years he married a daughter of Sir Alexander Fraser of Dotes in Kincardineshire. This marriage had not the effect of improving his character: the quiet of domestic life did not suit his temper; and his wild, restless spirit burned for adventure either by flood or field. In 1678 we find him once more engaged in some fierce scuffles with the Algerine rovers; and during the following year he saw much hard fighting at the siege of Tangier. He had no sooner returned to England than he entered Parliament, and assumed his first political position as a "peer of the realm" by offering a determined opposition to the royal proposal to remove the Parliament to Oxford. From that hour he employed all his influence to thwart the royal race, against whom he had cherished a bitter hatred from his very boyhood. He had qualities in him, moreover, which rendered him a formidable opponent. He had already a reputation as a daring soldier and a bold sailor, and was well known to be an accomplished scholar and a ready wit. His mind had ever been as active as his body. Whether he was occupied in "nayling up his hangings" on Sabbath, and Mordaunt shocking the chaplain with his profanity while tossing about in the Bay of Biscay, or hotly engaged in boarding an African rover in the Mediterranean, he never neglected to snatch a quiet hour for reading and culture. Despite the dark menace of Judge Jeffreys and his infamous supporters, this enthusiastic young lord became an earnest partisan of Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney. He stood by those noble men to the last, and accompanied Sidney to the scaffold. Yet these ennobling associations could not wean him from indulging in occasional bursts of mad frolic and wild eccentricity. He delivered his first speech in Parliament on the 19th November 1685, in opposition to the keeping up of a standing army. It was characterized by great power and boldness, and was full of impetuous, fiery eloquence. Among his friends it excited great hopes, and among his enemies it rendered him a marked man.

His prodigal generosity, combined with a limited income, had led him into pecuniary embarrassments, and he resolved to seek that employment abroad which was denied him at home. He had a hearty hatred of Popery and despotism; and in 1686 he quitted England for Holland, then the home of liberty and Protestantism. After vainly urging the Prince of Orange to an immediate invasion of England, he took up his abode in Holland, and remained there till the Revolution. Here he formed an intimate friendship with John Locke, who was then meditating his great Essay in exile. Mordaunt accompanied the Prince to England in 1688, received a lieutenant-colonelcy, and did good service during that critical period. On the 9th of April 1689 he was made first commissioner of the Treasury, and on the day following was created Earl of Monmouth. He stood by his royal patron in his signal defeat in the matter of the Test Act; but many months had not elapsed before he became jealous of his Majesty, and assumed a position of hostility which cost him his office. Monmouth formed one of the council of nine appointed by the King to aid Queen Mary in directing public affairs during the absence of her royal husband in Ireland. "The nine kings," disliked and suspected each other, and Monmouth strove sedulously to damage his fellow-councillors in the eyes of the Queen. He was accused of writing the notorious lemon letters, and intrigued hard for the sole command of the fleet. The restless ambition and immoderate vanity of the man here, as elsewhere, proved his greatest snares. He was obviously getting tired not only of the existing government, but of the royal family itself. The campaign of 1691 gave scope to his activity; and after serving with distinction on the Continent at the head of his regiment, the Royal Horse Guards, he returned to England and went into retirement. Here he sought the society of men of letters, cultivated his mind and his garden, made a boast of his immoralities, and sneered at religion. His Majesty did not seem disposed to recall him to power, and the Earl's growing dislike to royalty continued. In 1696 he got involved in Fenwick's plot, which deprived him of all his employments, and sent him to the Tower. Here "he was as violent as a falcon just caged;" but William, with his accustomed leniency, gave early orders for his release. In the midst of his disgrace he found that he had inherited the earldom of his house; and with an undaunted front and characteristic energy, he resolved to atone for the tarnished escutcheon of Monmouth by adding fresh lustre to that of Peterborough. The way was not yet clear before him, however, and he found time to visit the pious Fenelon. On coming away, the sceptic remarked, "If I stay here another week, I shall be a Christian in spite of myself." The King died in 1702; and Marlborough had no sooner come into power under Queen Anne, than Peterborough, with his graceful flattery and brilliant wit, was by the side of Lady Marlborough, and had already conquered her dislike, and won The war of the Spanish succession had now to be engaged in, and the Low Countries and Spain were the chosen battlefields for the arms of England. Marlborough reaped fame and fortune on the one, Peterborough amazed all Europe on the other.

Early in 1705 an English fleet and army were equipped for the Mediterranean shores of Spain, and Peterborough was named commander of the troops, and joint commander of the fleet with his old fellow-soldier, Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who long years ago had fought by his side in that fiery midnight exploit among the corsairs of Tripoli. The generous Earl well nigh beggared himself in fitting out his raw and undisciplined army of 5000 men. After much fruitless manoeuvring on the Spanish coasts, he at last besieged Barcelona, and by a series of dexterous movements, characterized by unparalleled boldness and transcendant military skill, he succeeded in making the city his own. Having left King Charles III. to the protection of his Catalan subjects, Peterborough turned his attention to the reduction of Valencia and Catalonia. This, with the means at his disposal, would have appeared to any other man an absolutely hopeless undertaking. Before him lay an enemy many thousands strong and well disciplined, commanded by able officers and secured by strong positions; while he, instead of an army, had only a small escort, imperfectly equipped, and in a hostile country beset with incredible difficulties. Against such fearful odds this audacious general, with his gallant little band, undertook to reduce the Spanish Peninsula, and commenced one of the most extraordinary campaigns to be found in the annals of warfare. What he could not effect by material strength and valour, he resolved to accomplish by superior sagacity, and, if need were, by the most unblushing deceit. He magnified his numbers by every fanciful artifice, circulated the most mendacious intelligence respecting his strength and movements, scoured the sierras with the most incredible swiftness, and swept down upon the affrighted foe with the speed and nimbleness of a falcon. He frightened his enemies by the incomprehensible mystery which the rapidity of his movements cast over all he did. All their calculations were at fault: ordinary military skill was of no avail against this wild reckless adventurer, whose very folly proved wiser than the concentrated wisdom of the enemy's council. The most successful exploits were not unfrequently achieved "without money and without men;" while his opponents, many thousands strong, with all Spain at their back, could not succeed in keeping him out of their strongest cities. "A skeleton in outward figure," as Swift says of him, he was capable of the most incredible physical endurance, and seldom indulged in a moment's rest, except when the dark-eyed senoras of Spain lured him for a short hour from his prey. His military daring, his gallantry to the fair sex, and his courtesy to the priesthood, made him a universal favourite with the Spaniards. If they showed resistance, he made them quail by the very wind of his stroke; and once within their gates, he put up his sword, and won the rest by the smoothness of his tongue and the light of his eyes. He relieved Barcelona when greatly harassed by the French by sea and land, and drove the Duke of Anjou out of Spain, with his 25,000 Frenchmen at his back. He soon gained possession of Catalonia, of the kingdoms of Valencia and Aragon, with part of Murcia and Castile, and had prepared the way for Charles making a safe entry into Madrid, which would in all probability have put an end to the campaign, and have secured him his throne. His Majesty, however, put more confidence in his dull German advisers than in the brilliant Earl, who, it must be said, was less obsequious to royalty than those jealous and stupid councillors from beyond the Rhine. Peterborough, who saw that this silliness would cost Charles his kingdom, and undo all that had been already achieved, urged with uncommon patience and devotion the necessity of pursuing an opposite course. But it proved of no avail. The Earl's immoderate vanity had combined with his success in making him be heartily hated by the mean and incompetent; and the foulest lies regarding his conduct had found their way to the ears of his royal mistress in England. Dissensions at length arose among the allied generals. Lord Galway claimed the sole command of the armies in Spain; Stanhope insisted upon offensive measures, Peterborough on defensive; and the disastrous battle of Almanza subsequently proved that the latter was right. Peterborough's counsel was neglected, however, and the prince for whom he had well nigh won a crown, treated him with careless ingratitude. The proud warrior turned his back on the land of his romantic career, and with bitterness in his heart, and a "God preserve any country from the best of German ministers" on his lips, he embarked at Valencia on the 14th May 1706, and bade adieu to Spain. He made his way for Turin, where he remained for some time; but his recall being urgently repeated, he returned to England on the 20th August 1707. Public opinion ran high in his favour on his arrival. Anonymous authors penned extravagant pamphlets in eulogy of him, grave pulpits sounded his praises, and Swift wrote quaint doggrels in honour of "the rambling-est lying rogue on earth." The House of Lords, after much jealousy and a great parade of ceremony, condescended publicly to thank him for his "wonderful and amazing success."

The war, which enriched Marlborough, well nigh beggared Peterborough. The latter hated the Whigs almost as heartily as he did the Tories; and it was considered a great relief to get him despatched for a time to the court of Vienna on some piece of imaginary diplomacy. On his return to London he retired to his residence at Parson's Green, where he gathered round him the leading wits of the day, and gave many "a jovial supper," cooked by his own hands, to Pope, Prior, Lewis, Gay, Friend, and the gruff Dean of St Patrick's, who "loved the lang-dog dearly." In 1709, and a very short time after the death of his two brilliant sons, Peterborough lost his wife, "a lady of admirable wit and judgment," whom he seems to have neglected much more than was meet. After her death he consoled himself for his loss by marrying Anastasia Robinson, a sweet dramatic singer of unblemished reputation, who cherished his declining years with much care. To vary the monotony of married life, he engaged in a sort of Platonic correspondence with Mrs Howard, the mistress of George II., and afterwards Countess of Suffolk, which is still preserved, and is full of much solemn nonsense and lamentably poor verses. His iron constitution had for some time been rapidly giving way, and having undertaken a voyage to Lisbon for the benefit of his health, he died on reaching that city on the 26th of October 1735.

The character of Peterborough, with all its faults and excellences, has not had justice done it. Samuel Johnson said of him once, "he is a favourite of mine, and is not enough known; his character has been only ventilated in party pamphlets." Sir Walter Scott seems also to have taken an interest in his history, as it is known that he was engaged on a Life of the Earl, which he never lived to complete. A highly interesting Memoir of Charles Mordecai, Earl of Peterborough and Monmouth, with selections from his Correspondence, 2 vols., appeared in 1853, from the pen of Eliot Warburton.