mountebank, where he practifed phyfic for fome weeks not without fuccefs. In his latter years he read books of hiftory more. He took pleasure to disguise himself as a porter, or as a beggar, fometimes to follow fome mean amours, which for the variety of them he affected. At other times, mercly for diverfion, he would go about in odd fhapes, in which he acted his part fo naturally, that even thofe, who were in the fecret, and faw him in thefe fhapes, could perceive nothing by which he might be difcovered.

I have now made the defcription of his former life and principles as fully as I thought neceffary to anfwer my end in writing, and yet with thofe referves that I hope I have given no just cause of offence to any. I have faid nothing but what I had from his own mouth, and have avoided the mentioning of the more particular paffages of his life, of which he told me not a few: but, fince others were concerned in them, whofe good only I defign, I will fay nothing that may either provoke or blemish them. It is their reformation, not their difgrace, I defire. This tender confideration of others has made me fupprefs many remarkable and useful things he told me; but, finding that, though I should name none, yet I must at leaft relate fuch circumftances as would give too great occafion for the reader to conjecture concerning the perfons in

tended,

tended, right or wrong, either of which were inconvenient enough, I have chofen to pass them quite over. But I hope thofe, that know how much they were engaged with him in his ill courfes, will be somewhat touched with this tenderness I exprefs towards them, and be thereby the rather induced to reflect on their ways, and to confider, without prejudice or paffion, what a fenfe this noble lord had of their cafe, when he came at last seriously to reflect upon his own.

I now turn to those parts of this narrative wherein I myself bore fome fhare, and which I am to deliver upon the obfervations I made after a long and free converfation with him for fome months. I was not long in his company when he told me he should treat me with more freedom than he had ever used to men of my profeffion; he would conceal none of his principles from me, but lay his thoughts open without any difguife; nor would he do it to maintain debate, or fhew his wit, but plainly tell me what stuck with him; and protefted to me, that he was not fo engaged to his old maxims as to refolve not to change, but that, if he could be convinced, he would choose rather to be of another mind. faid he would impartially weigh what I should lay before him, and tell me freely when it did convince and. when it did not. He expreffed this disposition of mind to me in a manner fo frank, that I could not

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He

but

of

but believe him and be much taken with his way difcourfe: fo we entered into almost all the parts of natural and revealed religion, and of morality. He feemed pleased, and in a great measure satisfied, with what I faid upon many of these heads; and, though our freeft converfation was when we were alone, yet upon feveral occafions other perfons were witneffes to it. I underflood from many hands that my company was not diftafteful to him, and that the fubjects about which we talked most were not unacceptable; and he expreffed himself often not ill pleafed with many things I faid to him, and particularly when I visited him in his laft fickuefs; fo that I hope it may not be altogether unprofitable to publifh the fubftance of thofe matters about which we argued fo freely, with our reafoning upon them; and perhaps what had fome effects on him may be not altogether ineffectual upon others. I followed him with fuch arguments as I saw were most likely to prevail with him; and my not urging other reafons proceeded not from any diftruft I had of their force, but from the neceffity of ufing thofe that were moft proper for him. He was then in a low ftate of health, and feemed to be flowly recovering of a great disease. He was in the milk diet, and apt to fall into hectical fits; any accident weakened him, fo that he thought he could not live long; and when he went from London, he faid he believed he fhould'

never

never come to town more. Yet during his being in town, he was fo well, that he went often abroad, and had great vivacity of spirit; fo that he was under no fuch decay as either darkened or weakened his understanding; nor was he any way troubled with the spleen or vapours, or under the power of melancholy. What he was then, compared to what he had been formerly, I could not fo well judge, who had feen him but twice before. Others have told me they perceived no difference in his parts. This I mention more particularly, that it may not be thought that melancholy, or the want of fpirits, made him more inclined to receive any impreffions: for indeed I never discovered any fuch thing in him.

Having thus opened the way to the heads of our difcourfe, I fhall next mention them. The three chief things we talked about were morality, natural religion, and revealed religion, Christianity in particular. For morality, he confeffed he faw the neceffity of it, both for the government of the world, and for the preservation of health, life, and friendfhip; and was very much afhamed of his former practices, rather because he had made himself a beast, and had brought pain and fickness on his body, and had fuffered much in his reputation, than from any deep fenfe of a Supreme Being or another ftate. But fo far this went with him, that he refolved firmly to change the courfe of his life, which he thought

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thought he should effect by the ftudy of philofophy, and had not a few no less solid than pleasant notions concerning the folly and madness of vice. But he confeffed he had no remorse for his past actions as offences against God, but only as injuries to himself and to mankind.

Upon this fubject I fhewed him the defects of philofophy for reforming the world. That it was a matter of fpeculation, which but few either had the leifure or the capacity to enquire into; but the prin ciple that must reform mankind must be obvious to every man's understanding. That philofophy, in matters of morality, beyond the great lines of our duty, had no very certain fixed rule; but, in the lefs offices and inftances of our duty, went much by the fancies of men and customs of nations, and confequently could not have authority enough to bear down the propensities of nature, appetite, or paffion for which I inftanced in these two points; the one was about that maxim of the Stoics, to extirpate all fort of paffion and concern for any thing. That, take it by one hand, feemed defireable, becaufe, if it could be accomplished, it would make all the accidents of life eafy; but I think it cannot, because nature, after all our striving against it, will ftill return to itself: yet, on the other hand, it diffolved the bonds of nature and friendship, and flackened industry, which will move but dully without

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