_From the Younger Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, upon his death bed, to
the Rev. Dr. W.----_.
Dear Doctor,--I always looked upon you as a man of true virtue, and
know you to be a person of sound understanding; for however I may have
acted in opposition to the principles of religion, or the dictates of
reason, I can honestly assure you I had always the highest veneration
for both. The world and I may now shake hands, for I dare affirm that
we are heartily weary of one another. Oh, doctor, what a prodigal have
I been of that most valuable of all possessions, time. I have
squandered it away with a profusion unparalleled; and now that the
enjoyment of a few days would be worth a hecatomb of worlds, I cannot
flatter myself with a prospect of half a dozen hours. How despicable,
my dear friend, is that man who never prays to his God but in the time
of distress. In what manner can he supplicate that omnipotent Being in
his affliction with reverence, whom in the tide of his prosperity he
never remembered with dread! Don't brand me with infidelity, my dear
doctor, when I tell you I am almost ashamed to offer up my petitions
at the throne of grace, or of imploring that divine mercy in the next
world, which I have so scandalously abused in this! Shall ingratitude
to man be looked upon as the blackest of crimes, and not ingratitude
to God? Shall an insult offered to the king be looked upon in the most
offensive light, and yet no notice be taken when the King of kings is
treated with indignity and disrespect. The companions of my former
libertinism would scarcely believe their eyes, my dear doctor, was you
to show them this epistle. They would laugh at me as a dreaming
enthusiast, or pity me as a timorous wretch who was shocked at the
appearance of futurity. But whoever laughs at me for being right, or
pities me for being sensible of my errors, is more entitled to my
compassion than my resentment. A future life may very well strike
terror into any man who has not acted well in this life; and he must
have an uncommon share of courage indeed who does not shrink at the
presence of his God. You see, my dear doctor, the apprehension of
death will soon bring the most profligate to a proper use of their
understanding. To what a situation am I now reduced? Is this odious
little hut a suitable lodging for a prince? or is this anxiety of my
mind becoming the characteristic of a Christian? From my rank and
fortune I might have expected affluence to wait on my life, from my
religion and understanding, peace to smile upon my end; instead of
which I am afflicted with poverty, and haunted with remorse, despised
by my country, and I fear forsaken by my God! There is nothing so
dangerous, my dear doctor, as extraordinary abilities. I cannot be
accused of vanity now, by being sensible I was once possessed of
uncommon qualifications, more especially as I sincerely regret that I
was ever blest with any at all. My rank in life made these
accomplishments still more conspicuous; and, fascinated with the
general applause which they procured, I never considered about the
proper means by which they should be displayed; hence, to purchase a
smile from a blockhead I despised, have I frequently treated the
virtuous with disrespect, and sported with the Holy Name of heaven to
obtain a laugh from a parcel of fools, who were entitled to nothing
but my contempt. Your men of wit, my dear doctor, generally look upon
themselves as discharged from the duties of religion, and confine the
doctrines of the Gospel to people of meaner understandings; it is a
sort of derogation, in their opinion, to comply with the rules of
Christianity, and reckon that man possessed of a narrow genius who
studies to be good. What a pity that the Holy Writings are not made
the criterion of true judgment! or that any one should pass for a fine
gentleman in this world, but he that seems solicitous about his
happiness in the next. My dear doctor, I am forsaken by all my
acquaintance, utterly neglected by the friends of my bosom and the
dependants of my bounty. But no matter; I am not now fit to converse
with the first, and have no ability to serve the latter. Let me not be
cast off wholly, however, by the good. Favour me with a visit, dear
doctor, as soon as possible. Writing to you gives me some ease,
especially upon a subject I could talk of for ever. I am of opinion
this is the last visit I shall ever solicit from you. My distemper is
powerful. Come and pray for the departing spirit of the unhappy
BUCKINGHAM.
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The Sketch Book.
No. LI.
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