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OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S FATHER.

323

his presence; much less had any hope to be believed in what he should say. So with great trouble and unquietness, he spent some time in thinking what he should do, and in the end resolved to do nothing in the matter.

The same person appeared to him the third time with a terrible countenance, and bitterly reproaching him for not performing what he had promised to do. The poor man had by this time recovered the courage to tell him, “ that in truth he had deferred the execution of his commands, upon considering how difficult a thing it would be for him to get any access to the Duke, having acquaintance with no person about him; and if he could obtain admission to him, he should never be able to persuade him, that he was sent in such a manner; but he should, at best, be thought to be mad, or to be set on and employed by his own or the malice of other men, to abuse the Duke, and so he should be sure to be undone.”

The person replied, as he had done before, “ that he should never find rest, till he should perform what he required ; and therefore he had better to dispatch it; that the access to his son was known to be very easy; and that few men waited long for him ; and for the gaining him credit, he would tell him two or three particulars, which he charged him never to mention to any person living, but to the Duke himself; and he should no sooner hear them, but he would believe all the rest he should fay; and so repeating his threats, he left him.

In the morning, the poor man, more confirmed by the last appearance, made his journey to London, where the Court then was.

He was very well known to Sir Ralph Freeman, one of the Masters of Requests, who had married a lady that was nearly allied to the Duke, and was himself well received by him. To him this man went; and though he did not acquaint him with all the particuTt2

lars,

lars, he said enough to him to let him see there was some. thing extraordinary in it; and the knowledge he had of the fobriety and discretion of the man, made the more impression on him.

He desired, that, “ by his means he might be brought to the Duke, to such a place, and in such a manner, as should be thought fit :" affirming, “ that he had much to say to him, and of such a nature, as would require much privacy, and some time and patience in the hearing.” Sir Ralph promised, “ he would speak first with the Duke of him, and then he should understand his pleasure ;” and, accordingly, on the first opportunity, he did inform him of the reputation and honesty of the man, and then what he desired, and of all he knew of the matter. The Duke, according to his usual openness and condescension, told him, “ that he was the next day early to hunt with the king, and that his horses should attend hini at LambethBridge, where he would land by five of the clock in the morning; and if the man attended him there at that hour, he would walk and speak with him, as long as should be necessary.” Sir Ralph carried the man with him the next morning, and presented him to the Duke at his landing; who received him courteously, and walked aside in conference near an hour, none but his own fervants being at that hour in that place; and they and Şir Ralph at such a distance, that they could not hear a word, though the Duke sometimes spoke, and with great commotion; which Sis Ralph the more easily observed and perceived, because he kept his eyes always fixed upon the Duke; having procured the conference upon somewhat he knew there was extraordinary. And the man told him in his return over the water,“ that when le mentioned those particulars, which were to gain him credit, the substance whereof he said he durst not impart to him, the Duke's colour changed, and

he

OF SIR GEORGE VILLIERS.

325 he swore he could come to that knowledge only by the devil; for that those particulars were known only to himfelf and to one person more, who, he was fure, would never speak of it.”

The Duke pursued his purpose of hunting; but was obferved to ride all the while with great pensiveness, and in deep thoughts, without any delight in the exercise he was upon, and before the morning was spent, left the field, and alighted at his mother's lodginus in Whitehall, with whom he was shut up for the space of two or three hours; the noise of their discourse frequently reaching the ears of those who attended in the next room; and when the Duke left her, his countenance appeared full of trouble, with a mixture of anger, a countenance that was never before observed in him, in any conversation with her, towards whom he had a profound reverence. And the Countess herself (for though she was married to a private gentleman, Sir Thomas Compton, she had been created Countess of Buckingham, shortly after her son had first assumed that title) was, at the Duke's leaving her, found overwhelmed in tears, and in the highest agony imaginable.

Whatever there was of all this, it is a notorious truth, that when the news of the Duke's murder, (which happened within a few months after) was brought to his mother, she seemed not in the least degree surprized; but received it as if she had foreseen it, nor did afterwards express such a degree of forrow, as was expected from such 2 mother, for the loss of such a fon.

Vide Clarendon's Hift. of the Rebellion, Vol. I. p. 34.

Authentic • Bless d paper

Authentic Parliculars of ABRAHAM NEWLAND, Esq. wilk the Origin of the Bank of England, &c.

credit! last and best supply !
“' That lends corruption higlier wings to fly!
“ Gold imp'd by thee can compass harder things,
“ Can pocket ftates, can fetch or carry kings;
“ A single leaf shall waft an army o’er,
“ Os Tip off senates to fome distant More :
“ A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro
es Our fates and fortunes, as the winds Mall blow ;
“ Pregnant with thousands, flits the scrap unseen,
And filent félls a king, or buys a queen,”

POPE. The wonderful influence which the signature of Abraham Newland's name has on the spirits of all Englishmen, juftly renders the character a proper subject for enquiry in our Museum, particularly as it is no fictitious name, like that of John Doe, or Richard Roe, but is bonâ fide, a person belonging to the Bank of England.

His father, Mr. Newland, was a baker, who lived in King-street, Southwark, and at whose house this gentleman was born about the year 1730. Having had a good education, he was recommended as a clerk to the Bank of England, where he was received Feb. 27, 1748, at the age of eighteen, so that now he has been in the Bank upwards of fifty-four years. Such was his indefatigable attention to business, and remarkable activity, that he continued gradually to rise in his employment, and was at length appointed to succeed Mr. Giles as the chief cashier of this first and most respectable house in Europe. Having been so long fixed to one station, his life is consequently unfurnished with incident; his name, however, (as it gives currency to a Bank-note) is become familiar throughout every part of Great Britain, as well as in every part of tlie known world; and has been the subject of a song, written

by

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