pene succubui. This is weakness, not wisdom, I own; and on that account fitter to be trusted to the bosom of a friend, where I may safely lodge all my infirmities. As soon as my mind is in some measure corrected and calmed, I will endeavour to follow your advice, and turn it to something of use and moment; if I have still life enough left to do any thing that is worth reading and preserving. In the mean time I shall be pleased to hear that you proceed in what you intend, without any such melancholy interruptions as I have met with. Your mind is as yet unbroken by age and ill accidents, your knowledge and judgment are at the height: use them in writing somewhat that may teach the present and future times, and if not gain equally the applause of both, may yet raise the envy of the one, and secure the admiration of the other.* Employ not your precious moments and great talents on little men and little things; † but choose a subject every way worthy of you, and handle it as you can, in a manner which nobody else can equal or imitate, As for me, my abilities, if I ever had any, are not what they were: and yet I will endeavour to recollect and employ them. -gelidus tardante senectâ Sanguis hebet, frigentque effoeto in corpore vires. "Remember, Virgil died at 52, and Horace at 58; and as bad as both their constitutions were, yours is yet more delicate and tender." Orig. C. Bowles. + It is to be wished that our author had attended to this judi-` cious admonition. Warton. However, I should be ungrateful to this place, if I did not own that I have gained upon the gout in the south of France, much more than I did at Paris; though even there I sensibly improved.* I believe my cure had been perfected, but the earnest desire of meeting one I dearly loved,† called me abruptly to Montpelier; where after continuing two months, under the cruel torture of a sad and fruitless expectation, I was forced at last to take a long journey to Toulouse; and even there I had missed the person I sought, had she not, with great spirit and courage, ventured all night up the Garonne to see me, which she above all things desired to do before she died. By that means she was brought where I was, between seven and eight in the morning, and lived twenty hours afterwards ; which time was not lost on either side, but passed in such a manner as gave great satisfaction to both, and such as, on her part, every way became her circumstances and character. For she had her senses to the very last gasp, and exerted them to give me, in those few hours, greater marks of duty and love than she had done in all her lifetime, though she had never been wanting in either.‡ The last words she said to me were the kindest of * In the original is a long paragraph, giving an account of his case having been mismanaged by a physician, who prescribed a milk diet. C. Bowles. + His daughter, Mrs. Morice. This passage probably suggested Pope's epitaph in dialogue between the bishop and his daughter, on which Dr. Johnson has made so unjust and unfeeling a remark. all; a reflection on the goodness of God, which had allowed us in this manner to meet once more, before we parted for ever. Not many minutes after that, she laid herself on her pillow, in a sleeping posture, Placidâque ibi demum morte quievit. Judge you, sir, what I felt, and still feel on this occasion, and spare me the trouble of describing it. At my age, under my infirmities, among utter strangers, how shall I find out proper reliefs and supports? I can have none, but those with which Reason and Religion furnish me, and those I lay hold on, and grasp as fast as I can. I hope that He, who laid the burden upon me (for wise and good purposes no doubt), will enable me to bear it, in like manner, as I have borne others, with some degree of fortitude and firmness. You see how ready I am to relapse into an argument which I had quitted once before in this letter. I shall probably again commit the same fault, if I continue to write; and therefore I stop short here, and with all sincerity, affection, and esteem, bid you adieu! till we meet either in this world, if God pleases, or else in another.* I am, &c. * His body was brought to England, and interred on May 12, 1732, in his vault in Westminster Abbey: his bowels were in an urn thus inscribed: "In hâc urnâ depositi sunt cineres, "FRANCISCI ATTERBURY Episcopi Roffensis," The Inscription was intended to be longer, containing very severe sarcasms on his trial and banishment, and ending thus: "Cavete Posteri! "Hoc Facinus, conscivit, aggressus est, perpetravit, (Episcopo- Epistolary Correspondence published by p. 302. Warton. Is it possible to read this, and some of the foregoing letters of Atterbury, breathing such unaffected tenderness, yet such as becomes a man, at a time too when he was under infirmities, among strangers, bowed by age and sorrows, without tears? Sunt lacrymæ rerum Et mentem mortalia tangunt. His lines respecting himself, on his translation of the Georgics, are sweet and pathetic : -Hæc ego lusi Ad Sequanæ ripas, Thamesino a flumine longe, Quos colui, PATRIÆQUE memor, nec DEGENER usquam. Thus Englished by himself: -Thus on the banks of Seine, Far from my native home, I pass my hours, Broken with years and pain; yet my firm heart Also in couplets, worthy his friend Pope: Thus where the Seine thro' realms of slavery strays, With sportive verse I wing my tedious days, And still my friends and country share my heart. I cannot help thinking, that there were some traits like similarity of character, though their political principles were diametrically opposite, in Atterbury and Milton. Milton, on many accounts, was a favourite with Atterbury. Both were hostile to the respective governments under which they lived; both had a warmth of high and indignant animation; both a magnanimity, but the magnanimity of the one was awful and severe, that of the other mingled with the tenderest social feelings; the Father and Friend in Atterbury, predominating over the Patriot and the Man. Atterbury's delight in Milton's poetry, arose from a congeniality of taste; and had he not so professedly regarded Pope as unrivalled, he would himself, I think, from the extracts here given, have been a pathetic poet. In genius, in deep learning, in comprehensive talents, Atterbury, no doubt, must appear far inferior to Milton; but there was something approaching to Milton in particular features of his character; and the firmness which appears in his writings, under sickness, exile, and domestic calamity, draws the resemblance nearer, when we think on them both, (On evil tongues though fall'n, and evil days!) still wooing the consolations of the Muse. When Atterbury's corpse was brought over from France, in order for interment in Westminster Abbey, the resentment of party still seemed to operate. Mr. Morice, his son-in-law, was taken into custody the same evening he landed with the remains of Atterbury, and was closely examined before the Duke of Newcastle. The vessel was also strictly searched by the customhouse officers. The coffin was even arrested, and searched. On the 12th of May 1732, the body was taken from the undertaker's, late at night, and interred about one in the morning, in the most private manner, attended only by Mr. Morice, his sonin-law, and, much to their honour, his two late chaplains, Dr. Savage and Mr. Moore. What increased the public feelings on the occasion was, that Mrs. Oldfield the actress, about the same time, lay in state, and was sung by a full choir to her grave. In speaking of Atterbury, I have spoken of him only as a man. His political principles were such as would have entailed on us the most odious and arbitrary power; from which we were rescued by the firmness and wisdom of the ministry, and particularly Sir Robert Walpole. Bowles. |