CHAPTER II.

His letter to his sister, Lady Jane Holt.-His conversion to Catholicism. Letter from Atterbury to the Pretender.— Death of the Duke's wife in 1726. His second marriage, to Miss O'Byrne, Maid of Honour to the Queen of Spain.-He repairs to the Spanish camp at Gibraltar. Enlists as a volunteer against his own countrymen.-His gallantry during the siege. Convicted of high treason, and deprived of his estates.-Appointed Lieut.-Colonel of one of the Irish regiments in the Spanish service.-Goes to Italy.-His last interview with the Pretender at Parma.-His curious letter to the English Ambassador at Paris.-The latter's communication to the Duke of Newcastle.-Official reply.-The Duke's poverty. -Relieved by the Pretender, and the widow of James the Second. His extravagance at Rouen.-His return to Paris. -Anecdote.-Takes up his residence in a convent.-And affects the penitent and devotee.-His relapse into dissipation. Quits Paris clandestinely, for Spain.-Extract from "Memoirs of the Duke of Wharton."-The Duke's destitute condition. Undertakes a translation of Telemachus. And a tragedy on the subject of Mary Queen of Scots.-Attacked by indisposition at Lisbon in 1731.-His wretched death at a village in Catalonia in 1731.- His widow allowed a small pension by the Spanish Court.

NOTWITHSTANDING the extravagances of the Duke of Wharton, his melancholy career of folly and wickedness was, occasionally, so brightly illumined by gleans, not only of genius, but of

reflection and deep feeling, that we are pelled to take an interest in the wayward libertine in spite of ourselves. The following letter, which he addressed to his sister, Lady Jane Holt, shortly after his arrival at Madrid, will probably be read with interest. It proves, not only that his attachment to the cause of the Pretender had its birth in conscientious motives, but that his miserable career of profligacy and buffoonery had not entirely deadened his better feelings, and that he still respected a sister's opinion, and valued a sister's love. The power and beauty of the language requires no comment.

"DEAR SISTER,

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My name has been so often mentioned in the public prints, and consequently become the subject of private conversation, that my personal friends (you particularly) may, with reason, expect to know from myself what steps I have taken, or intend to take; and the true reasons of my present resolution. As to the reasons of my conduct, I do not think it proper to write them directly to you. I must refer you to some papers you will soon see published through all Europe; I will not trust the good manners, or the good-nature of my enemies, by writing anything to you that might expose you to trouble, for it would sharpen the prosecutions begun against me, if you should suffer the least inconvenience from tenderness to me. Whatever relates to myself gives me no uneasiness. Every

virulent vote, every passionate reproach, and every malicious calumny against me, are so many real commendations of my conduct; and while you, and my sister Lucy, are permitted to live quietly and securely, I shall think our family has met with no misfortune, and has, therefore, no claim to the compassion of its truest friends.

"I know your tender concern and affection for me; and write chiefly to give you comfort, not to receive any from you; for I thank God that I have an easy contented mind, and that I want no comfort. I have some hopes; I have no fears; which is more than some of your Norfolk neighbours can say of themselves.

"I desire your prayers for the success of my wishes and prosperity of our family. I scorn the false pretended compassion of my enemies, and it would grieve me much more to receive the real pity of my friends.

"I shall not wonder if, at first, you should be affected with the warmth of the proceeding against me, and should show some concern at the attempts to strip our family of its title, and to rob them of their estates; but you will soon change your mind, when you consider, that my real honour does not depend on Walpole or his master's pleasure; that a faction may attaint a man without corrupting his blood; and that an estate seized by violence and arbitrary power is not irrevocably lost. The word late is now become the most honourable epithet of the Peerage; it is a higher title than that of Grace; and

whenever you hear me spoke of in that manner, I beg you to think, as I do, that I have received a new mark of honour; a mark dignified by the Duke of Ormond, Earl Marischal, and others.*

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You, that have read Clarendon's History, must know that during the reign of Cromwell and the Rump Parliament, the whole Peerage of England was styled THE LATE HOUSE OF LORDS: there was then no want of late Dukes, late Earls, and late Bishops; and why should that be reckoned a reproach to a single Peer, which was then the distinguishing title to the whole, body? Was that usurper, Cromwell, the fountain of honour? Had he, who murdered one King, any more power to taint the blood of his fellow subjects than his illustrious successor, who has fixed a price on the head of another? For, as Lord Harcourt finely observes, in his speech on Dr. Sacheverell, there is little or no difference between a wet martydom and a dry one. Can a high commission court at present, or a secret committee, tarnish the honour of a family? Is it a real

* Adherents of the Pretender. George, tenth Earl of Marschal, was born about 1693, and succeeded his father in 1712. In 1714 he joined the cause of the Pretender; and subsequently grew into great favour with Frederick the Third, King of Prussia, who invested him with the Order of the Black Eagle, and, at different times, employed him as his ambassador at the courts of Paris and Madrid. He obtained his pardon in May 1759, and was introduced to George the Second the following year. He returned to Prussia, at the express solicitation of Frederick, and died at Potsdam on the 28th of May, 1778.

disgrace to be condemned by Macclesfield, Harcourt, Townshend, or Trevor? Is it a dishonour to be robbed of a private fortune by those who have stripped the widow and the fatherless? who have sold their country? who have plundered the public? No! my dear sister, assure yourself that this unjust prosecution is a lasting monument erected to the honour of our family. It will serve to render it illustrious to after ages; to atone for the unhappy mistakes of any of our misguided ancestors. If it should end with me, it will, however, have outlived the liberties of England. Those honours, which we received at first from the Crown, can never be more gloriously interred than in the defence of the injured rights of the Crown, than in the cause of the rightful monarch of Britian, the greatest of Princes, and the best of masters. But I forget myself by enlarging too far on a subject that may not be so conveniently mentioned in a letter to you. My zeal for my country; my duty to my sovereign; my affection to you, and my respect to my family and its true honour, have carried on my pen further than I intended. I will only add, that no change in my circumstances ever shall lessen my tender concern for you, or my sister Lucy, to whom I desire you will present my love, and charge her, as she values my friendship, never to marry without my consent. Be assured that no distance of place, nor length of time shall abate my affection for you. And my enemies shall find, whenever I return to England,