“Indeed had she loved herself as well as me, she had fled from the pit of destruction with her sweet babes, and might have prolonged her days, but that she was resolved to die a martyr to my interest. My drooping spirits are much refreshed with her joys, which I think are unutterable.
“Sir, this paper is to bid you a hearty farewell for ever—and to bring my humble thanks for all your noble favours; and I hope that you will believe a dying man. I have as much love as honour for you; and I will bend my feeble knees to the God of Heaven that you, my dear lady and your children, and their children, may be blest with external and eternal happiness; and that the same blessing may fall upon my lady Sunderland and her relations.
“Dear sir, let your dying chaplain recommend this truth to you and your family—that no happiness nor solid comfort may be found in this vale of tears like living a pious life;—and pray remember ever to retain this rule—never to do any thing upon which you dare not first ask the blessing of God for the success thereof.
“Sir, I have made bold in my will with your name as an executor, and I hope that you will not take it ill. I have joined two others with you that will take from you the trouble. Your favourable aspect will, I know, be a great comfort to my distressed orphans. I am not desirous that they may be great, but good; and my next request is that they may be brought up in the fear and admonition of the Lord.
“I desire, sir, that you will be pleased to make choice of an humble, pious man to succeed me in my parsonage; and, could I see your face before my departure from hence, I would inform you which way I think he may live comfortably amongst his people, which would be some satisfaction to me before I die. And with tears I beg, that, when you are praying for fatherless infants, you would then remember my two pretty babes. Sir, pardon the rude style of this paper, and if my head be discomposed, you cannot wonder at me. However, be pleased to believe that I am
Dear sir,
Your most obliged, most affectionate,
and grateful servant,
“William Mompesson.”
When first the plague broke out in Eyam, Mr. Mompesson wrote to the then earl of Devonshire, residing at Chatworth, some five miles from Eyam; stating, that he thought he could prevail upon his parishioners to confine themselves within the limits of the village, if the surrounding country would supply them with necessaries, leaving such provisions as should be requested in appointed places, and at appointed hours, upon the encircling hills. The proposal was punctually complied with; and it is most remarkable, that when the pestilence became, beyond all conception, terrible, not a single inhabitant attempted to pass the deathful boundaries of the village, though a regiment of soldiers could not, in that rocky and open country, have detained them against their will: much less could any watch, which might have been set by the neighbourhood, have effected that infinitely important purpose.
By the influence of this exemplary man, obtained by his pious and affectionate virtues, the rest of the county of Derby escaped the plague; not one of the very nearly neighbouring hamlets, or even a single house, being infected beyond the limits of Eyam village, though the distemper raged there near seven months.
Further details will hardly be required respecting a story, which is as true as it is sad. The manner wherein it is poetically related is sufficiently exemplified, and therefore, without comment; and for beauties, various as the scenery of nature, expressed in charmed lines, the reader of feeling is referred to the exquisite little volume mentioned before, under the title of “The Desolation of Eyam, and other Poems; by William and Mary Howitt, authors of the Forest Minstrel, &c.”