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Queen Anne, and by her grace and favour Viscount Bolingbroke. After more than thirty years' proscription, and after the immense losses I have sustained by unexpected events in the course of it; by the injustice and treachery of persons nearest to me; by the negligence of friends, and by the infidelity of servants; As my fortune is so reduced at this time, that it is impossible for me to make such disposition, and to give such ample legacies as I always intended, I content therefore to give as follows:

My debts, and the expenses of my burial in a decent and private manner at Battersea, in the vault where my last wife lies, being first paid, I give to William Chetwynd of Stafford, Esq., and Joseph Taylor, of the Inner-Temple, London, Esq., my two assured friends, each of them one hundred guineas, to be laid out by them, as to each of them shall seem best, in some memorial, as the legacy of their departed friend; and I constitute them executors of this my will.

An Answer to the Defence of the Inquiry into the Reasons of the Conduct of Great Britain.

A final Answer to the Remarks on the Craftsman's Vindication.

All which books or tracts have been printed and published; and I am also the author of Four Letters on History, &c.

Which have been privately printed, and not
published; but I have not assigned to any
person or persons whatsoever the copy, or the
liberty of printing or re-printing any of the
said books, or tracts, or letters: Now I do
hereby, as far as by law I can, give and assign
to David Mallet, of Putney, in the county of
Surry, Esquire, the copy and copies of all and
each of the before-mentioned books, tracts, or
letters, and the liberty of re-printing the same.
I also give to the said David Mallet the copy
and copies of all the manuscript books, papers,
and writings, which I have written or composed,
or shall write or compose, and leave at the time
of my decease. And I further give to the said
David Mallet, all the books which, at the time
of my decease, shall be in the room called my
library.

All the rest and residue of my personal
estate, whatsoever and wheresoever, I give to
my said executors; and hereby revoking all
former wills, I declare this to be my last will
and testament. In witness whereof, I have
hereunto set my hand and seal the twenty-se-
cond day of November, in the
Lord
of our
year
thousand seven hundred and fifty-one.
HENRY SAINT JOHN BOLINGBROKE.

The diamond ring which I wear up on my finger, I give to my old and long approved friend, the Marquis of Matignon, and after his decease, to his son, the Count de Gace, that I may be kept in the remembrance of a family whom I love and honour above all others. Item, I give to my said executors the sum of four hundred pounds in trust, to place out the same in some of the public funds, or government securities, or any other securities, as they shall think proper, and to pay the interest or income thereof to Francis Arboneau, my valet-one de-chambre, and Ann his wife, and the survivor of them; and after the decease of the survivor of them, if their son John Arboneau shall be living, and under the age of eighteen years, to pay the said interest or income to him, until he shall attain his said age, and then to pay the principal money, or assign the securities for the same, to him; but if he shall not be living at the decease of his father and mother, or shall afterwards die before his said age of eighteen years, in either of the said cases the said principal sum of four hundred pounds, and the secu. rities for the same, shall sink into my personal estate, and be accounted part thereof.

Item, I give to my two servants, Marianne Tribon, and Remi Charnet, commonly called Picard, each one hundred pounds; and to every other servant living with me at the time of my decease, and who shall have lived with me two years or longer, I give one year's wages more than what shall be due to them at my death. And whereas I am the author of the several books or tracts following, viz.

Remarks on the History of England, from the Minutes of Humphrey Oldcastle. In twenty-four letters.

A dissertation upon Parties. In nineteen letters to Caleb Danvers, Esq.

The Occasional Writer. Numb. 1, 2, 3.
The Vision of Camilick.

An Answer to the London Journal of December 21, 1728, by John Trot.

Signed, sealed, published and

declared by the said testa-
tor, as and for his last will
and testament, in the pre-
sence of

OLIVER PRICE.
THOMAS HALL.

Proved at London the fifth day of March 1752, before the worshipful Robert Chapman, doctor of laws and surrogate, by the oaths of William Chetwynd and Joseph Taylor, Esquires, the executors named in the will to whom administration was granted, being first sworn duly to administer.

March,
1752.

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In Dr Matty's Life of Lord Chesterfield, he mentions that he had seen Lord Bolingbroke for several months labouring under a cruel, and to appearance incurable disorder. A cancerous humour in his face made a daily progress; and the empirical treatment he submitted to not only hastened his end, but also exposed him to the most excruciating pain. He saw him, for the last time, the day before his tortures began. Though the unhappy patient, as well as his friend, did then expect that he should recover, and accordingly desired

him not to come again till his cure was com- remedy has hastened his death, against which pleted, yet he still took leave of him in a manner there was no remedy, for his cancer was not which showed how much he was affected. He topical, but universal, and had so infected the embraced the Earl with tenderness, and said, whole mass of his blood, as to be incurable. "God, who placed me here, will do what he What I most lament is, that medicines put him pleases with me hereafter, and he knows best to exquisite pain; an evil I dread much more what to do. May he bless you." And in a than death, both for my friends and myself. I letter from Chesterfield to a lady of rank at lose a warm, an amiable, and instructive friend. Paris, he says, "I frequently see our friend I saw him a fortnight before his death, when Bolingbroke, but I see him with great concern. he depended upon a cure, and so did I; and A humour he has long had in his cheek proves he desired I would not come any more till he to be cancerous, and has made an alarming was quite well, which he expected would be progress of late. Hitherto it is not attended in ten or twelve days. The next day the with pain, which is all he wishes, for as to the great pains came on, and never left him till rest he is resigned. Truly, a mind like his, so within two days of his death, during which he far superior to the generality, would have well lay insensible. What a man! what extensive deserved that nature should have made an ef-knowledge! what a memory! what eloquence! fort in his favour as to the body, and given him an uncommon share of health and duration."

The last scene is thus lamented, in a letter to the same lady:—“ Are you not greatly shocked, but I am sure you are, at the dreadful death of our friend Bolingbroke? The

His passions, which were strong, were injurious to the delicacy of his sentiments; they were apt to be confounded together, and often wilfully. The world will do him more justice now than in his lifetime.”

CRITICISM

ON

MASSEY'S TRANSLATION

OF THE

FASTI OF OVID.

therewith, will find it an agreeable and instructive companion, well stored with recondite learning. I persuade myself also, that the notes which I have added to my version will be of advantage, not only to the mere English reader, but likewise to such as endeavour to improve themselves in the knowledge of the Roman language.

"As the Latin proverb says, Jacta est alea: and my performance must take its chance, as those of other poetic adventurers have done before me. I am very sensible, that I have fallen in many places far below my original; and no wonder, as I had to copy after so fertile and polite a genius as Ovid's; who, as my Lord Orrery, somewhere in Dean Swift's Life, humorously observes, could make an instructive song out of an old almanack.'

Ir was no bad remark of a celebrated French | and that those who become better acquainted lady, that a bad translator was like an ignorant footman, whose blundering messages disgraced his master by the awkwardness of the delivery, and frequently turned compliment into abuse, and politeness into rusticity. We cannot indeed see an ancient elegant writer mangled and misrepresented by the doers into English, without some degree of indignation; and are heartily sorry that our poor friend Ovid should send his sacred kalendar to us by the hands of Mr William Massey, who, like the valet, seems to have entirely forgot his master's message, and substituted another in its room very unlike it. Mr Massey observes in his preface, with great truth, that it is strange that this most elaborate and learned of all Ovid's works should be so much neglected by our English translators; and that it should be so little read or regarded, whilst his Tristia, Epistles, and Metamorphoses, are in almost every school-boy's hands. "All the critics, in general," says he, "speak of this part of Ovid's writings with a particular applause; yet I know not by what unhappy fate there has not been that use made thereof, which would be more beneficial in many respects, to young students of the Latin tongue, than any other of this poet's works. For though Pantheons, and other books that treat of the Roman mythology, may be usefully put into the hand of young proficients in the Latin tongue, yet the richest fund of that sort of learning is here to be found in the Fasti. I am not without hopes, therefore, that by thus making this book more familiar and easy, in this dress, to English readers, it will the more readily gain admittance into our public schools;

Mad. la Fayette.

"That my translation is more diffuse, and not brought within the same number of verses contained in my original, is owing to two reasons; firstly, because of the concise and expressive nature of the Latin tongue, which it is very difficult (at least I find it so) to keep to strictly, in our language; and secondly, I took the liberty sometimes to expatiate a little upon my subject, rather than leave it in obscurity, or unintelligible to my English readers, being indifferent whether they may call it translation or paraphrase; for, in short, I had this one design most particularly in view, that these Roman Fasti might have a way opened for their entrance into our grammar schools."

What use this translation may be of to grammar schools, we cannot pretend to guess, unless, by way of foil, to give the boys a higher opinion of the beauty of the original by the deformity of so bad a copy. But let our readers judge of Mr Massey's performance by the fol

lowing specimen. For the better determination of its merit, we shall subjoin the original of every quotation.

"The calends of each month throughout the year,

Are under Juno's kind peculiar care;
But on the ides, a white lamb from the field,
A grateful sacrifice, to Jove is kill'd.
But o'er the nones no guardian god presides;
And the next day to calends, nones, and ides,
Is inauspicious deem'd; for on those days
The Romans suffer'd losses many ways;
And from those dire events, in hapless war,
These days unlucky nominated are.

Vindicat Ausonias Junonis cura kalendas:
Idibus alba Jovi grandior agna cadit.
Nonarum tutela Deo caret. Omnibus istis
(Ne fallere cave) proximus ater erit.
Omen ab eventu est: illis nam Roma diebus
Dampa sub adverso tristia Marte tulit.

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“Say. Janus, say, why we begin the year
In winter? sure the spring is better far:
All things are then renew'd; a youthful dress
Adorns the flowers, and beautifies the trees;
New swelling buds appear upon the vine,
And apple-blossoms round the orchard shine;
Birds fill the air with the harmonious lay,
And lambkins in the meadows frisk and play;
The swallow then forsakes her wintry rest,
And in the chimney chatt'ring makes her nest;
The fields are then renew'd, the ploughman's

care;

Mayn't this be call'd renewing of the year?
To my long questions Janus brief replied,
And his whole answer to two verses tied.
The winter tropic ends the solar race,
Which is begun again from the same place;
And to explain more fully what you crave,
The sun and year the same beginning have.
But why on new-year's day, said I again,
Are suits commenc'd in courts? The reason's
plain,

Replied the god; that business may be done,
And active labour emulate the sun,
With business is the year auspiciously begun ;
But every artist, soon as he was tried
To work a little, lays his work aside.
Then I; but further, father Janus, say,
When to the gods we our devotions pay,

Dic, age, frigoribus quare novus incipit annus,
Qui melius per ver incipiendus erat?
Omnia tunc florent: tunc est nova temporis ætas :
Et nova de gravido palmite gemma tumet.
Et modo formatis amicitur vitibus arbos :

Prodit et in summum seminis herba solum :
Et tepidum volucres concentibus aera mulcent:
Ludit et in pratis, luxuriatque pecus.
Tum blandi soles: ignotaque prodit hirundo ;
Et luteum celsa sub trabe fingit opus.
Tum patitur cultus ager, et renovatur aratro
Hæc anni novitas jure vocanda fuit.
Quæsieram multis: non multis ille moratus,

Contulit in versus sic sua verba duos. Bruma novi prima est, veterisque novissima solis : Principium capiunt Phoebus et annus idem. Post ea inirabar, cur non sine litibus esset Prima dies. Causam percipe, Janus ait. Tempora commisi nascentia rebus agendis; Totus ab auspicio ne foret annus iners. Quisque suas artes ob idem delibat agendo :

Nec plus quam solitum testificatur opus.

Why wine and incense first to thee are given?
Because, said he, I keep the gates of heaven;
That when you the immortal powers address,
By me to them you may have free access.
But why on new-year's day are presents made,
And more than common salutations paid?
Then, leaning on his staff, the god replies,
In all beginnings there an omen lies;
From the first word we guess the whole design,
And augurs, from the first-seen bird, divine;
The gods attend to every mortal's prayer,
Their ears and temples always open are.'

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Mox ego; cur, quamvis aliorum numina placem,
Jane, tibi primo thura merumque fero?
Ut per me possis aditum, qui limina servo,
Ad quoscunque velim prorsus, habere deos.
At cur læta tuis dicuntur verba kalendis ;
Et damus alternas accipimusque preces?
Tum deus incumbens baculo, quem dextra gerebat;
Omina principiis, inquit, inesse solent.
Ad primam vocem timidas advertitis aures :
Et visam primum consulit augur avem.
Templa patent auresque deum : nec lingua caduca
Concipit ulla preces; dictaque pondus habent.

1

Is there a possibility that any thing can be more different from Ovid in Latin that this Ovid in English? Quam sibi dispar! The translation is beneath all criticism. But let us see what Mr Massey can do with the sublime and more animated parts of the perform ance, where the subject might have given him room to show his skill, and the example of his author stirred up the fire of poetry in his breast, if he had any in it. Towards the end of the Fasti, Ovid has introduced the most tender and interesting story of Lucretia. The original is inimitable. Let us see what Mr Massey has made of it in his translation. After he bas described Tarquin returning from the sight of the beautiful Lucretia, he proceeds thus:

"The near approach of day the cock declar'd By his shrill voice, when they again repair'd

Jam dederat cantum lucis prænuncius ales;
Cum referunt juvenes in sua castra pedem.

Back to the camp; but Sextus there could find
Nor peace nor ease for his distemper'd mind;
A spreading fire does in his bosom burn,
Fain would he to the absent fair return;
The image of Lucretia fills his breast,
Thus at her wheel she sat! and thus was drest!
What sparkling eyes, what pleasure in her look!
How just her speech, and how divinely spoke!
Like as the waves, rais'd by a boisterous wind,
Sink by degrees, but leave a swell behind;
So though by absence lessen'd was his fire,
There still remain'd the kindlings of desire;

i

TRANSLATION OF OVID'S FASTI.

Unruly lust from hence began to rise,
Which how to gratify he must devise;
All on a rack, and stung with mad designs,
He reason to his passion quite resigns;
Whate'er's the event, said he, I'll try my fate,
Suspense in all things is a wretched state;
Let some assistant god, or chance attend,
All bold attempts they usually befriend:
This way, said he, I to the Gabii trode ;
Then girding on his sword, away he rode,
The day was spent, the sun was nearly set,
When he arrived before Collatia's gate;
Like as a friend, but with a sly intent,
To Collatinus' house he boldly went;
There he a kind reception met within
From fair Lucretia, for they were akin.
What ignorance attends the human mind!
How oft we are to our misfortunes blind!
Thoughtless of harm she made a handsome
feast,

And o'er a cheerful glass regaled her guest
With lively chat; and then to bed they went ;
But Tarquin still pursued his vile intent ;

Carpitur attonitos absentis imagine sensus ulle; recordanti plura magisque placent. Sic sedit: sic culte fuit: sic stamina nevit: Neglecta collo sic jacuere comæ : Hos habuit vultus: hæc illi verba fuere : He decor, hæc facies, hic color oris erat. Ut solet a magno fluctus languescere flatu; Sed tamen a vento, qui fuit ante, tumet: Sic, quamvis aberat placitæ præsentia formæ, Quem dederat praesens forma, manebat amor. Ardet; et injusti stimulis agitatus amoris Comparat indigno vimque dolumque toro. Exitus in dubio est: audebimus uitima, dixit: Viderit, audentis forsne deusne juvet. Cepimus audendo Gabios quoque. Talia fatus Ease latus cingit: tergaque pressit equi. All dark, about the dead of night he rose, And softly to Lucretia's chamber goes; His naked sword he carried in his hand, That what he could not win he might com

mand;

With rapture on her bed himself he threw,
And as approaching to her lips he drew,
Dear cousin, ah, my dearest life, he said,
'Tis I, 'tis Tarquin, why are you afraid?
Trembling with fear, she not a word could say,
Her spirits fled, she fainted quite away;
Like a lamb beneath a wolf's rude paws,
Appall'd and stunn'd her breath she hardly
draws;

What can she do? resistance would be vain,
She a weak woman, he a vig'rous man.
Should she cry out? his naked sword was by;
One scream, said he, and you this instant die :
Would she escape, his hands lay on her breast,
Now first by hands of any stranger prest:
The lover urged by threats, rewards, and
prayers;

But neither prayers, rewards, nor threats she

hears;

Will you not yield? he cries; then know my

will

When these my warm desires have had their fill,
By your dead corpse I'll kill and lay a slave,
And in that posture both together leave,
Then feign myself a witness of your shame,
And fix a lasting blemish on your fame.

351

Her mind the fears of blemished fame control,
And shake the resolutions of her soul;

Accipit ærata juvenem Collatia porta :
Condere jam vultus sole parante suos.
Hostis, ut hospes, init penetralia Collatina:
Comiter excipitur: sanguine junctus erat.
Quantum animis erroris inest! parat inscia rerum
Infelix epulas hostibus illa suis.

Functus erat dapibus: poscunt sua tempora somni.
Nox erat; et tota lumina nulla domo.
Surgit, et auratum vagina deripit ensem:

Et venit in thalamos, nupta pudica, tuos.
Utque torum pressit; ferrum, Lucretia, mecum est,
Natus, ait, regis, Tarquiniusque vocor.

Illa nihil: neque enim vocem viresque loquendi,
Aut aliquid toto pectore mentis habet.
Sed tremit, ut quondam stabulis deprensa relictis,
Parva sub infesto cum jacet agna lupo.
Quid faciat? pugnet? vincetur femina pugna.
Clamet? at in dextra, qui necet, ensis adest.
Effugiat? positis urgetur pectora palmis;

Nunc primum externa pectora tacta manu.

n;

But of thy conquest, Tarquin, never boast,
Gaining that fort, thou hast a kingdom lost;
Vengeance thy complicated guilt attends,
Which both in thine, and family's ruin ends.
With rising day the sad Lucretia rose,
Her inward grief her outward habit shows;
Mournful she sat in tears and all alone,
As if she'd lost her only darling son
Then for her husband and her father sent,
Who Ardea left in haste to know the intent,
Who when they saw her all in mourning drest,
To know the occasion of her grief, request,
Whose funeral she mourn'd desired to know,
Or why she had put on those robes of woe.
She long concealed the melancholy cause,
While from her eyes a briny fountain flows;
Her aged sire, and tender husband, strive
To heal her grief, and words of comfort give:
Yet dread some fatal consequence to hear,
And begg'd she would the cruel cause declare."

Instat amans hostis precibus, pretioque, minisque :
Nec prece, nec pretio, nec movet ille minis.
Nil agis eripiam, dixit, per crimina vitam :
Falsus adulterii testis adulter ero.
Interimam famulum, cum quo deprensa fereris.
Succubuit famæ victa puella metu.
Quid, victor, gaudes? hæc te victoria perdet.
Heu quanto regnis nox stetit una tuis!
Jamque erat orta dies: passis sedet illa capillis;
Ut solet ad nati mater itura rogum.
Grandævumque patrem fido cum conjuge castris
Evocat; et posita venit uterque mora.
Utque vident habitum ; quæ luctus causa, requirunt :
Cui paret exsequias, quove sit icta malo.
Illa diu reticet, pudibundaque celat amictu
Ora. Fluunt lachrymæ more perennis aquæ.
Hinc pater, hinc conjux lachrymas solantur, et orant
Indicet: et cæco flentque paventque metu.
Ter conata loqui, &c.

Our readers will easily perceive by this short specimen, how very unequal Mr Massey is to a translation of Ovid. In many places he has deviated entirely from the sense, and in every part fallen infinitely below the strength, elegance and spirit of the original. We must beg leave, therefore, to remind him of the old Italian * proverb, and hope he will never for the future traduce and injure any of those poor ancients who never injured him, by thus pestering the world with such translations as even his own school-boys ought to be whipped for.

* il tradatores tradatore.

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