and peevish. But, by a constant cultivation of that benevolent
disposition, that was never inwrought in any heart in a stronger and
more prevailing manner than in hers, she, in a good measure, dispossest
herself of those inward sources of uneasiness, and was pleased with the
victory she had gained over herself, and continually striving to render
it more absolute and complete.
Her religion was rational and prevalent. She had, in the former part of
her life, great doubts about christianity, during which state of
uncertainty, she was one of the most uneasy and unhappy persons living.
But her own good sense, her inviolable attachment to religion and
virtue, her impartial inquiries, her converse with her believing
friends, her study of the best writers in defence of christianity, and
the observations she made on the temper and conduct, the fall and ruin
of some that had discarded their principles, and the irregularities of
others, who never attended to them, fully at last released her from all
her doubts, and made her a firm and established christian. The immediate
consequence of this was, the return of her peace, the possession of
herself, the enjoyment of her friends, and an intire freedom from the
terror of any thing that could befall her in the future part of her
existence. Thus she lived a pleasure to all who knew her, and being, at
length, resolved to disengage herself from the hurries of life, and wrap
herself up in that retirement she was so fond of, after having gained
what she thought a sufficient competency for one of her moderate
desires, and in that station that was allotted her, and settled her
affairs to her own mind, she finally quitted the world, and in a manner
agreeable to her own wishes, without being suffered to lie long in
weakness and pain, a burthen to herself, or those who attended her:
dying after about two days illness, in the 58th year of her age, Sept.
11, 1745.
She thought the disadvantages of her shape were such, as gave her no
reasonable prospect of being happy in a married state, and therefore
chose to continue single. She had, however, an honourable offer from a
country gentleman of worth and large fortune, who, attracted merely by
the goodness of her character, took a journey of an hundred miles to
visit her at Bath, where he made his addresses to her. But she convinced
him that such a match could neither be for his happiness, or her own.
She had, however, something extremely agreeable and pleasing in her
face, and no one could enter into any intimacy of conversation with her,
but he immediately lost every disgust towards her, that the first
appearance of her person tended to excite in him.
She had the misfortune of a very valetudinary constitution, owing, in
some measure, probably to the irregularity of her form. At last, after
many years illness, she entered, by the late ingenious Dr. Cheney's
advice, into the vegetable diet, and indeed the utmost extremes of it,
living frequently on bread and water; in which she continued so long, as
rendered her incapable of taking any more substantial food when she
afterwards needed it; for want of which she was so weak as not to be
able to support the attack of her last disorder, and which, I doubt not,
hastened on her death. But it must be added, in justice to her
character, that the ill state of her health was not the only or
principal reason that brought her to, and kept her fixed in her
resolution, of attempting, and persevering in this mortifying diet. The
conquest of herself, and subjecting her own heart more intirely to the
command of her reason and principles, was the object she had in especial
view in this change of her manner of living; as being firmly persuaded,
that the perpetual free use of animal food, and rich wines, tends so to
excite and inflame the passions, as scarce to leave any hope or chance,
for that conquest of them which she thought not only religion requires,
but the care of our own happiness, renders necessary. And the effect of
the trial, in her own case, was answerable to her wishes; and what she
says of herself in her own humorous epitaph,
_That time and much thought had all passion extinguish'd_,
was well known to be true, by those who were most nearly acquainted with
her. Those admirable lines on _Temperance_, in her Bath poem, she penned
from a very feeling experience of what she found by her own regard to
it, and can never be read too often, as the sense is equal to the
goodness of the poetry.
Fatal effects of luxury and ease!
We drink our poison, and we eat disease,
Indulge our senses at our reason's cost,
Till sense is pain, and reason hurt, or lost.
Not so, O temperance bland! when rul'd by thee,
The brute's obedient, and the man is free.
Soft are his slumbers, balmy is his rest,
His veins not boiling from the midnight feast.
Touch'd by Aurora's rosy hand, he wakes
Peaceful and calm, and with the world partakes
The joyful dawnings of returning day,
For which their grateful thanks the whole creation pay,
All but the human brute. 'Tis he alone,
Whose works of darkness fly the rising sun.
'Tis to thy rules, O temperance, that we owe
All pleasures, which from health and strength can flow,
Vigour of body, purity of mind,
Unclouded reason, sentiments refin'd,
Unmixt, untainted joys, without remorse,
Th' intemperate sinner's never-failing curse.
She was observed, from her childhood, to have a fondness for poetry,
often entertaining her companions, in a winter's evening, with riddles
in verse, and was extremely fond, at that time of life, of Herbert's
poems. And this disposition grew up with her, and made her apply, in her
riper years, to the study of the best of our English poets; and before
she attempted any thing considerable, sent many small copies of verses,
on particular characters and occasions, to her peculiar friends. Her
poem on the Bath had the full approbation of the publick; and what sets
it above censure, had the commendation of Mr. Pope, and many others of
the first rank, for good sense and politeness. And indeed there are many
lines in it admirably penn'd, and that the finest genius need not to be
ashamed of. It hath ran through several editions; and, when first
published, procured her the personal acknowledgments of several of the
brightest quality, and of many others, greatly distinguished as the best
judges of poetical performances.
She was meditating a nobler work, a large poem on the Being and
Attributes of God, which was her favourite subject; and, if one may
judge by the imperfect pieces of it, which she left behind her in her
papers, would have drawn the publick attention, had she liv'd to finish
it.
She was peculiarly happy in her acquaintance, as she had good sense
enough to discern that worth in others she justly thought was the
foundation of all real friendship, and was so happy as to be honoured
and loved as a friend, by those whom she would have wished to be
connected with in that sacred character. She had the esteem of that most
excellent lady, who was superior to all commendation, the late dutchess
of Somerset, then countess of Hertford, who hath done her the honour of
several visits, and allowed her to return them at the Mount of
Marlborough. Mr. Pope favoured her with his at Bath, and complimented
her for her poem on that place. Mrs. Rowe, of Froom, was one of her
particular friends. 'Twould be endless to name all the persons of
reputation and fortune whom she had the pleasure of being intimately
acquainted with. She was a good woman, a kind relation, and a faithful
friend. She had a real genius for poetry, was a most agreeable
correspondent, had a large fund of good sense, was unblemished in her
character, lived highly esteemed, and died greatly lamented,
_FINIS_.