W.H.H.

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ORIGINAL LETTER

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