commended by the "Critical Reviewers;" and poor Lyttelton, with humble gratitude, returned, in a note which I have read, acknowledgment which can never be proper, since they must be paid either for flattery or for justice. When, in the latter part of the last reign, the inauspicious commencement of the war made the dissolution of the ministry unavoidable, Sir George Lyttelton, losing with the rest his employment, was recompensed with a peerage; and rested from political turbulence in the House of Lords. 66 His last literary production was his "History of Henry the Second," elaborated by the searches and deliberations of twenty years, and published with such anxiety as only vanity can dictate. The story of this publication is remarkable. The whole work was printed twice over, a great part of it three times, and many sheets four or five times. The booksellers paid for the first impression; but the charges and repeated operations of the press were at the expenee of the author, whose ambitious accuracy is known to have cost him at least a thousand pounds. He began to print in 1755. Three volumes appeared in 1764, a second edition of them in 1767, a third edition in 1768, and the conclusion in 1771. Andrew Reid, a man not without considerable abilities, and not unacquainted with letters or with life, undertook to persuade Lyttelton, as he had persuaded himself, that he was master of the secret of punctuation; and, as fear begets credulity, he was employed, I know not at what price, to point the pages of "Henry the Second." The book was at last pointed and printed, and sent into the world. Lyttelton took money for his copy, of which when he had paid the printer, he probably gave the rest away; for he was very liberal to the indigent. When time brought the History to a third edition, Reid was either dead or discarded; and the superintendance of typography and punctuation was committed to a man originally a comb-maker, but then known by the style of Doctor. Something uncommon was probably expected, and something uncommon was at last done; for to the Doctor's edition is appended, what the world had hardly seen before, a list of errors in nineteen pages. But to politics and literature there must be an end. Lord Lyttelton had never the appearance of a strong or of a healthy man; he had a slender, uncompacted frame, and a meagre face; he lasted however sixty years, and was then seized with his last illness. Of his death, a very affecting and instructive account has been given by his physician, which will spare me the task of his moral character. 66 “On Sunday evening the symptoms of his lordship's disorder, which for a week past had alarm“ed us, put on a fatal appearance, and his lordship "believed himself to be a dying man. From this "time he suffered by restlessness rather than pain; "though his nerves were apparently much fluttered, his mental faculties never seemed stronger, "when he was thoroughly awake. 66 "His lordship's bilious and hepatic complaints "seemed alone not equal to the expected mournful "event; his long want of sleep, whether the consequence of the irritation in the bowels, or, which 66 " is more probable, of causes of a different kind, ac"counts for his loss of strength, and for his death, "very sufficiently. 66 Though his lordship wished his approaching "dissolution not to be lingering, he waited for it "with resignation. He said, 'It is a folly, a keep ing me in misery, now to attempt to prolong "life;' yet he was easily persuaded, for the satis"faction of others, to do or take any thing thought 66 proper for him. On Saturday he had been re"markably better, and we were not without some "hopes of his recovery. "On Sunday, about eleven in the forenoon, his "lordship sent for me, and said he felt a great "hurry, and wished to have a little conversation "with me, in order to divert it. He then pro"ceeded to open the fountain of that heart, from "whence goodness had so long flowed, as from a "copious spring. Doctor,' said he, you shall "be my confessor: when I first set out in the "world, I had friends who endeavoured to shake 66 my belief in the Christian religion. I saw diffi"culties which staggered me; but I kept my mind 66 open to conviction. The evidences and doctrines "of Christianity, studied with attention, made me "a most firm and persuaded believer of the Chris"tian religion. I have made it the rule of my life, "and it is the ground of my future hopes. I have "erred and sinned; but have repented, and never indulged any vicious habit. In politics, and "public life, I have made public good the rule of 66 my conduct. I never gave counsels which I did "not at the time think the best. I have seen that 66 66 "I was sometimes in the wrong; but I did not err designedly. I have endeavoured, in private life, "to do all the good in my power, and never for a "moment could indulge malicious or unjust designs upon any person whatsoever,' 66 "At another time he said, 'I must leave my "soul, in the same state it was in before this illness; "I find this a very inconvenient time for solicitude "about any thing.' "On the evening, when the symptoms of death "came on, he said, 'I shall die; but it will not "be your fault.' When Lord and Lady Valentia "came to see his lordship, he gave them his solemn "benediction, and said, 'Be good, be virtuous, "my lord; you must come to this.' Thus he con"tinued giving his dying benediction to all around "him. On Monday morning a lucid interval gave "some small hopes, but these vanished in the even 66 ing; and he continued dying, but with very little "uneasiness, till Tuesday morning, August 22, "when, between seven and eight o'clock, he ex"pired, almost without a groan.' His lordship was buried at Hagley; and the following inscription is cut on the side of his lady's monument : "This unadorned stone was placed here who died August 22, 1773, aged 64." Lord Lyttelton's Poems are the works of a man of literature and judgment, devoting part of his time to versification. They have nothing to be despised, and little to be admired. Of his "Pro66 gress of Love," it is sufficient blame to say that it is pastoral. His blank verse in "Blenheim" has neither much force nor much elegance. His little performances, whether Songs or Epigrams, are sometimes sprightly, and sometimes insipid. His epistolary pieces have a smooth equability, which cannot much tire, because they are short, but which seldom elevates or surprizes. But from this censure ought to be excepted his "Advice to Belinda," which, though for the most part written when he was very young, contains much truth and much prudence, very elegantly and vigorously expressed, and shews a mind attentive to life, and a power of poetry which cultivation might have raised to excellence. END OF THE ELEVENTH VOLUME. Printed by J. Haddon, Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury. |