doubt, according to Miss Burney's account of his character, to have so excellent an opportunity of indulging his weakness for talking about his own works. A few days after he had left, on the 7th of August, Young reported the visit to the Duchess of Portland. The Dr. Monsey who had also favoured the poet with a call was that Chelsea Hospital physician who was the Earl of Bath's rival for the affections of Mrs. Montagu. As he was a notorious free-thinker, his appearance at Welwyn must have shocked the "worthy Mr. Jones."

"I greatly rejoice that you have recovered what is most valuable in life, health and spirits, and that you have recovered them by the most pleasant as well as the most effectual means; that is, by driving away from your physician as fast and as far as you can; which is the most likely way of leaving your disorder too behind you. As for my own health, which your Grace is so good as to ask after, I bless Heaven that I suffer no severe pains, but I have little appetite by day, and very indifferent rest by night, and my eyes grow worse and worse; but Almighty God's blessed will be done.

"I have not for a long time either seem Mrs. Montagu or heard from her; but I have heard often of her. Dr. Monsey called on me a little while ago, and told me he was to wait on her, but could not be admitted, because my Lord Bath was dead; and this last week, one Mr. Keate, of the Temple, an author both in prose and verse, favoured me with a visit for two or three days, and told me that some little time ago he had the honour of dining with Mrs. Montagu with about ten more, all or most of them writers; that the entertainment was very elegant, and that a celebrated Welsh harp added music to their wit.

"They are wise who make this life as happy as they can, since at the very happiest it will fall short of their desires, which, blessed be God, are too large to be quite pleased with any thing below; and whilst by their largeness they give us some little disgust to this life, they make rich amends for that disadvantage by giving us at the same time as strong assurance of a better." 1 Bath MSS. i, 329.

19-(2301)

What the "worthy Mr. Jones" meant when he arched his eyebrows at his rector's "speculative opinions" is a mystery; if, however, he could have read that rector's letter of the 7th of October to Keate he would have seen that the suspected heretic had not given up a particle of his faith in the Christian revelation. Publisher Dodsley had died on the 23rd of the previous month.

On opening your letter, I was pleased to find that I had still one friend on this side the grave. Of late I have lost so very many that I begun to doubt it. Poor Dodsley! But why poor? Let us give him joy of his escape.

"

'None would live past years again,

Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain ;
And from the dregs of life hope to receive

What the first sprightly runnings could not give.
I'm tired with waiting for this chimic gold,

Which fools us young and beggars us when old.'

When Mrs. Gateker told me that had his doubts as to Christianity, an argument for it occurred to me, which is not to be found, I think, in writers on that subject. As it is but short, and to me most convincing, I will tell you what it is first, such is the nature of Christianity that the plan of it could not possibly have entered into the mind of man; secondly, if it had entered it could not possibly have been received by mankind, without a supernatural interposition in its favour.

"As for Voltaire, I have not seen what you mention, but as long as there is fear and pity in the heart of man, reading a page in Shakespeare will be a sufficient reply to what Voltaire can urge against him. I heartily wish you had an affecting tale under your hand; it would give you great pleasure in the composition, and your friends in the perusal. Thus you see, self-interest, as usual, is at the bottom of our civilities. Success attend you in all your undertakings, and fortitude man you against all the deficiencies of human life." 1

1 B.M. Add. MS. 30992 f. 18.

That was Young's last letter and his farewell and benediction to his latest friend. But it was not the final missive from Welwyn. To the many new years he had seen was added yet another, 1765, which was scarce seven weeks old ere, on the 19th of February, he indicted one more message to the widowed mistress of Bulstrode.

"It is so long since I had the honour of writing to you that you may possibly look on this as a letter from the dead, but I am still above ground, though I can hardly venture to say that I am quite alive; the severe weather on Sunday night almost destroyed me. My being so long silent was not occasioned by disrespect, for I bear to your Grace the greatest respect; nor was it occasioned by want of power, for, I bless God, I am pretty well; nor was it occasioned by want of inclination, for I desire nothing more than to hear of your Grace's welfare. Whatever, therefore, was the cause of it, I beg your Grace to permit me now to enquire after your health and the health of all those who have the happiness of being related to or of being esteemed by you. In the last letter which I had the honour of receiving from your Grace, you was about to make a round of visits to several entitled to one or to both of the characters above. I hope you found and left them well, and brought home at your return an increase of health and satisfaction. Air and exercise are not greater friends to the former than the cheerful smiles of those we love are to the latter; and when is it more necessary to provide for our private satisfaction and peace than at a time when that of the public seems to be in some hazard of being impaired, if not lost? But what have I to do with the public affairs of this world? They are almost as foreign to me as to those who were born before the Flood. My world is dead; to the present world I am quite a stranger, so very much a stranger that I know but one person in it, and that your Grace."1

is

1 Bath MSS. i, 329-30.

One other glimpse of Young, and such a glimpse as would have reassured the "worthy Mr. Jones," is vouchsafed us in a letter of Cowper, in which the Olney poet narrated an anecdote told him by Nathaniel Cotton, that poetic physician who had taken charge of him during his insanity. The book referred to was Thomas Newton's Dissertations on the Prophecies.

"Dr. Cotton, who was intimate with Dr. Young, paid him a visit about a fortnight before he was seized with his last illness. The old man was then in perfect health; the antiquity of his person, the gravity of his utterance, and the earnestness with which he discoursed about religion, gave him, in the doctor's eye, the appearance of a prophet. They had been delivering their sentiments upon this book of Newton, when Young closed the conference thus: My friend, there are two considerations upon which my faith in Christ is built as upon a rock the fall of man, the redemption of man, and the resurrection of man, the three cardinal articles of our religion, are such as human ingenuity could never have invented; therefore they must be divine. The other argument is this: If the Prophecies have been fulfilled (of which there is abundant demonstration) the Scripture must be the word of God; and if the Scripture is the word of God, Christianity must be true.' "'1

Death was not far distant when the poet indicted his farewell to the Duchess of Portland. Ere February was spent his old pains returned with renewed force; on the first day of April he took to his bed for the last time, and thenceforward his two doctors were obliged to administer frequent opiates to relieve his sufferings.

As soon as the dangerous nature of Young's illness became apparent, Mrs. Hallows sent for his son Frederick, who, for some undefined offence, had been denied his father's house for several years. Whatever his misconduct may have been, it is clear from Croft's naive admission that it was more serious 1 Southey, Life and Works of William Cowper, iii, 250.