in his celebrated trial-speech in the House of Lords,"I have been under a very long and close confinement, and have been treated with such severity, and so great indignity, as I believe no prisoner in the Tower, of my age and function and rank, ever was; by which means, what strength and use of my limbs I had when I was first committed in August last, is now so far declined, that I am very unfit to make my defence against a bill of such an extraordinary nature. The great weakness of body and mind under which I labour; such usage, such hardships, such insults, as I have undergone, might have broken a more resolute spirit, and much stronger constitution, than falls to my share.” This eloquent description of his sufferings and illusage, there is no reason to believe exaggerated. It has even been asserted that he was encouraged to write private letters, in order that the contents might afterwards be employed to support the accusation against him. At all events, his favourite daughter was for some time refused admission to him, and even when the restriction was withdrawn, their free communion was interrupted, and all expression of natural feeling repressed, by the presence of one of the underlings of the administration. Moreover, during the early visits paid him by his son-in-law, Mr. Morrice, who came to assist him in preparing his defence,

the relation of a single act of leniency on their part, and in no degree exonerates them from the harshness of which they have been accused. Life of Walpole, vol. i. p. 171.

the Bishop was only allowed to communicate with him from a distance: Atterbury, during their interviews, was compelled to give his direction from a two-pair of stairs window, while Mr. Morrice was standing in an open area below. Among further evidences of the strictness with which he was guarded, and of the precautions taken to prevent his communicating with his friends, it may be mentioned that even some pigeon-pies, which he was in the habit of receiving for his dinner, underwent a rigid examination by order of the government. "It is the first time," writes Pope to Gay, "that dead pigeons have been suspected of carrying intelligence."

The following letter, addressed by Atterbury to his friend Pope, during the period of his imprisonment, is not only interesting, owing to the peculiar circumstances under which it was written, but may also be received as a fair specimen of the Bishop's epistolary style :

"Tower, 10 April, 1723.

"DEAR SIR,-I thank you for all the instances of your friendship, both before and since my misfortunes. A little time will complete them, and separate you and me for ever. But in what part of the world soever I am, I will live mindful of your sincere kindness to me; and will please myself with the thought, that I still live in your esteem and affection as much as ever I did; and that no accidents of life, no distance of time or place, will alter you in that respect. It never can

me, who have loved and valued you ever since I knew you, and shall not fail to do it when I am not allowed to tell you so, as the case will soon be. Give Give my faithful services to Dr. Arbuthnot, and thanks for what he sent me, which was much to the purpose, if anything can be said to be to the purpose in a case that is already determined, Let him know my defence will be such, that neither my friends shall blush for me, nor will my enemies have great occasion of triumph, though sure of the victory. I shall want his advice before I go abroad, in many things. But I question whether I shall be permitted to see him, or anybody, but such as are absolutely necessary towards the dispatch of my private affairs. If so, God bless you both! and may no part of the illfortune that attends me ever pursue either of you! I know not but I may call upon you, at my hearing, to say somewhat about my way of spending my time at the Deanery, which did not seem calculated towards managing plots and conspiracies. But of that I shall consider. You and I have spent many hours together upon much pleasanter subjects; and that I may preserve the old custom, I shall not part with you now till I have closed this letter with three lines of Milton, which you will, I know, readily, and not without some degree of concern, apply to your ever affectionate, &c.

"Some natural tears he dropped, but wiped them soon,

The world was all before him where to choose

His place of rest, and Providence his guide.'"

On the 9th of April, 1723, a bill passed the House of Commons, proposing the infliction of certain pains and penalties on Francis, Lord Bishop of Rochester, which the same day was carried up to the House of Lords for their concurrence. On the sixth of May, the day fixed upon by the Lords for the first reading of the bill, Atterbury was brought from the Tower to Westminster. The proceedings lasted altogether about a week, at the expiration of which time, the Bishop received permission to plead for himself. It was then that he delivered that celebrated oration, which even the counsel for the prosecution admitted to be almost unrivalled for eloquence, and which, with the exception of Strafford's memorable appeal before a similar tribunal, was, perhaps, the most brilliant and forcible appeal that was ever addressed by a state criminal to his peers.

The principal evidence adduced against Atterbury, and that which had been particularly insisted upon by Pulteney, who drew up the report of the secret committee, was derived from a trifling but somewhat singular incident. The govern

ment, it seems, had obtained possession of some treasonable letters, written under the fictitious names of Illington and Jones, in several of which there were allusions to a little dog, about to be sent to Mrs. Illington from France. It was by this means that the ministry obtained a clue to the real authors of the correspondence. The animal was traced to the house of a Mrs. Barnes,

who, subsequently, underwent an examination before the Privy Council. It appeared by the evidence of this person, that "a spotted little dog, called Harlequin, which was brought from France, and had a leg broken, was left with her to be cured; that the said dog was not for her, but for the Bishop of Rochester; and that one Kelly, who had sent over the dog, had promised to get it of the Bishop of Rochester for her, in case it did not recover of its lameness.' This would clearly identify the Bishop and Illington as the same person, and though Atterbury did not condescend to take notice of the circumstance in his defence, it is said to have made no little impression on the minds of his judges. Swift has agreeably ridiculed it in his verses "On the horrid plot discovered by the Bishop of Rochester's French dog:"

"Now let me tell you plainly, sir,

Our witness is a real cur,

A dog of spirit for his years;

Has twice two legs, two hanging ears.

His name is Harlequin, I wot,

And that's a name in every plot:
Resolved to save the British nation,
Though French by birth and education;
His correspondence, plainly dated,
Was all deciphered and translated:
His answers were exceeding pretty
Before the secret wise committee;
Confessed as plain as he could bark,

Then with his fore foot set his mark."

At the period when the House of Lords sentenced Atterbury as a criminal, it may reasonably