My most noble and illustrious friend, the Earl of Ossory, espying me this morning after sermon in the privy gallery, calling to me, told me he was now going his journey (meaning to Tangier, whither he was designed Governor, and General of the forces, to regain the losses we had lately sustained from the Moors, when Inchiquin was Governor). I asked if he would not call at my house (as he always did whenever he went out of England on any exploit). He said he must embark at Portsmouth, "wherefore let you and me dine together to-day; I am quite alone, and have something to impart to you; I am not well, shall be private, and desire your company."
Being retired to his lodgings, and set down on a couch, he sent to his secretary for the copy of a letter which he had written to Lord Sunderland (Secretary of State), wishing me to read it; it was to take notice how ill he resented it, that he should tell the King before Lord Ossory's face, that Tangier was not to be kept, but would certainly be lost, and yet added that it was fit Lord Ossory should be sent, that they might give some account of it to the world, meaning (as supposed) the next Parliament, when all such miscarriages would probably be examined; this Lord Ossory took very ill of Lord Sunderland, and not kindly of the King, who resolving to send him with an incompetent force, seemed, as his Lordship took it, to be willing to cast him away, not only on a hazardous adventure, but in most men's opinion, an impossibility, seeing there was not to be above 300 or 400 horse, and 4,000 foot for the garrison and all, both to defend the town, form a camp, repulse the enemy,[Pg 146] and fortify what ground they should get in. This touched my Lord deeply, that he should be so little considered as to put him on a business in which he should probably not only lose his reputation, but be charged with all the miscarriage and ill success; whereas, at first they promised 6,000 foot and 600 horse effective.
My Lord, being an exceedingly brave and valiant person, and who had so approved himself in divers signal battles, both at sea and land; so beloved and so esteemed by the people, as one they depended on, upon all occasions worthy of such a captain;—he looked on this as too great an indifference in his Majesty, after all his services, and the merits of his father, the Duke of Ormond, and a design of some who envied his virtue. It certainly took so deep root in his mind, that he who was the most void of fear in the world (and assured me he would go to Tangier with ten men if his Majesty commanded him) could not bear up against this unkindness. Having disburdened himself of this to me after dinner, he went with his Majesty to the sheriffs at a great supper in Fishmongers' Hall; but finding himself ill, took his leave immediately of his Majesty, and came back to his lodging. Not resting well this night, he was persuaded to remove to Arlington House, for better accommodation. His disorder turned to a malignant fever, which increasing, after all that six of the most able physicians could do, he became delirious, with intervals of sense, during which Dr. Lloyd (after Bishop of St. Asaph) administered the Holy Sacrament, of which I also participated. He died the Friday following, the 30th of July, to the universal grief of all that knew or heard of his great worth, nor had any a greater loss than myself. Oft would he say I was the oldest acquaintance he had in England (when his father was in Ireland), it being now of about thirty years, contracted abroad, when he rode in the Academy in Paris, and when we were seldom asunder.
His Majesty never lost a worthier subject, nor father a better or more dutiful son; a loving, generous, good-natured, and perfectly obliging friend; one who had done innumerable kindnesses to several before they knew it; nor did he ever advance any that were not worthy; no one more brave, more modest; none more humble, sober, and every way virtuous. Unhappy England in this illus[Pg 147]trious person's loss! Universal was the mourning for him, and the eulogies on him; I stayed night and day by his bedside to his last gasp, to close his dear eyes! O sad father, mother, wife, and children! What shall I add? He deserved all that a sincere friend, a brave soldier, a virtuous courtier, a loyal subject, an honest man, a bountiful master, and good Christian, could deserve of his prince and country. One thing more let me note, that he often expressed to me the abhorrence he had of that base and unworthy action which he was put upon, of engaging the Smyrna fleet in time of peace, in which though he behaved himself like a great captain, yet he told me it was the only blot in his life, and troubled him exceedingly. Though he was commanded, and never examined further when he was so, yet he always spoke of it with regret and detestation. The Countess was at the seat of her daughter, the Countess of Derby, about 200 miles off.