any accounts of
this sort, nor will the name of Aubrey much recommend it to credit; it
ought not however to be omitted, because better evidence of a fact is
not easily to be found, than is here offered, and it must be, by
preserving such relations, that we may at least judge how much they
are to be regarded. If we stay to examine this account we shall find
difficulties on both sides; here is a relation of a fact given by a
man who had no interest to deceive himself; and here is on the other
hand a miracle which produces no effect; the order of nature is
interrupted to discover not a future, but only a distant event, the
knowledge of which is of no use to him to whom it is revealed. Between
these difficulties what way shall be found? Is reason or testimony to
be rejected? I believe what Osborne says of an appearance of sanctity,
may be applied to such impulses, or anticipations. "Do not wholly
slight them, because they may be true; but do not easily trust them,
because they may be false."'
Some years after he travelled to Rome, where he grew familiar with the
most valuable remains of antiquity, applying himself particularly to
the knowledge of medals, which he gained in great perfection, and
spoke Italian with so much grace and fluency, that he was frequently
mistaken there for a native. He returned to England upon the
restoration of King Charles the IId, and was made captain of the band
of pensioners, an honour which tempted him to some extravagancies. In
the gaieties of that age (says Fenton) he was tempted to indulge a
violent passion for gaming, by which he frequently hazarded his life
in duels, and exceeded the bounds of a moderate fortune. This was the
fate of many other men whose genius was of no other advantage to them,
than that it recommended them to employments, or to distinction, by
which the temptations to vice were multiplied, and their parts became
soon of no other use, than that of enabling them to succeed in
debauchery.
A dispute about part of his estate, obliging him to return to Ireland,
he resigned his post, and upon his arrival at Dublin, was made captain
of the guards to the duke of Ormond.
When he was at Dublin he was as much as ever distempered with the same
fatal affection for play, which engaged him in one adventure, which
well deserves to be related. 'As he returned to his lodgings from a
gaming table, he was attacked in the dark by three ruffians, who were
employed to assassinate him. T
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