died soon after landing from the effects of cold and exposure. The survivors went to London and were hospitably entertained by Lady Petty.[1] Sir William they found had died a short time before.
When, in 1687, the serious position of the little colony at Kenmare first became known, Sir William was in his sixtyfifth year, and the labours and anxieties of his career had already begun to impair his strength. The change in Ireland was an almost intolerable blow to him. It seemed as if his lifework had been destroyed, and the catastrophe was the harder to bear because he could not well believe—in spite of his natural buoyancy of temperament—that he could live to baffle his enemies himself, even if those who came after him might succeed in doing so.
A troublesome disease in the feet, apparently some complicated form of gout, now partially lamed him. His health was shaken and the conviction that his end was not far off was constantly present to his mind, and he commenced putting his house in order, so far as events permitted, against the arrival of 'the horse bridled and saddled,' which he thought was soon to carry him off.
Already in 1684 he had written from Dublin to Lady Petty that 'he had rummaged and methodized his papers,' which amounted to 'fifty-three chests,' and are, he says, 'so many monuments of my labours and misfortunes.'[2] He also completed the full and detailed account of the 'Down Survey of Ireland,' to which frequent reference has been made in this narrative. 'I shrine all up,' Southwell told him, 'and premise that in after times, I shall be resorted to for your works, as Mr. Hedges is for the true Opobalsamum.'[3] 'As to your fifty years' adventures, I have them and keep them more preciously than Cæsar's Commentaries.'[4]
To Lady Petty, Sir William also sent a summary of his claims on the nation as a legacy to his children.
