these are to give away to a young lady here in the country. When they are bound, I desire your binder would pack them up carefully, and cover them with paper enough to keep their corners and edges from being hurt in the carriage. For carriers are a sort of brutes, and declared enemies to books. I am, &c. your SIR, To the same. Oates, 9 July, 1703. YOURS, of the 30th of June, I received just now, and cannot forbear a moment to tell you, that if there were any thing in my last letter, that gave you an occasion, after having mentioned disguise, to say, you "have made use of no way to show your esteem of me, but still your heart went with it," I am very sorry for it. For, however, I might think the expressions in letter above what I could deserve, yet my blaming your excess of civility to me tended not to any doubt of the sincerity of your affection. Had I not been secure of that, I could not have talked to you with the same freedom I did, nor have endeavoured to persuade you, that you were lodged so near my heart as you are. Though my friendship be of very little value, or use; yet being the best thing I have to give, I shall not forwardly bestow it, where I do not think there is worth and sincerity; and therefore, pray, pardon me the forwardness wherewith I throw my arms about your neck; and holding you so, tell you, you must not hope, by any thing that looks like compliment, to keep me at a civiler, and more fashionable distance. You comply with me, I see, by the rest of your letter; and you bear with my treating you with the familiarity of an established friendship. You pretend you have got the advantage by it. I wish it may be so; for I should be very glad there were any thing, wherein I could be useful to you. Find it out, I beseech you; and tell me of it, with as little ceremony and scruple, as you see I use with you. The New Testament, you mention*, I shall be glad to see, since Mr. Bold has told you how desirous I was to see it. I have expected one of them from Holland ever since they have been out; and so I hope to restore it to you again in a few days. The other book, you mentioned†, I have seen; and am so well satisfied, by his 5th section, what a doughty 'squire he is like to prove in the rest, that I think not to trouble myself to look farther into him. He has there argued very weakly against his adversary, but very strongly against himself. But this will be better entertainment for you when we meet, than matter for a letter, wherein I make it my business to assure you, that I am, &c. SIR, To the same. Oates, 10 September, 1703. YOURS of the 7th, which I just now received, is the only letter I have a long time wished for, and the welcomest that could come; for I longed to hear that you were well, that you were returned, and that I might have the opportunity to return you my thanks for the books you sent me, which came safe; and to acknowledge my great obligations to you for one of the most villanous books, that, I think, ever was printed‡. It is a present that I highly value. I had heard something of it, when a young man in the university; but possibly * Mr. Le Clerc's French Translation of the New Testament. † Psychologia; or, an Account of the Nature of the Rational Soul, &c. By John Broughton, M. A. Chaplain to his Grace the duke of Marlborough. Lond. 1703, in 8vo. + Chillingworthi Novissima. Or the Sickness, Heresy, Death, and Burial of William Chillingworth, (in his own Phrase) Clerk, of Oxford, and in the Conceit of his Fellow-soldiers, the Queen's Archengineer and Grand-intelligencer. . . . By Francis Cheynell, late Fellow of Merton College. Lond. 1644, in 4to. See the article of Mr. Chillingworth, in my Attempt towards an historical and critical English Dictionary. should never have seen this quintessence of railing, but for your kindness. It ought to be kept as the pattern and standard of that sort of writing, as the man he spends it upon, for that of good temper, and clear and strong arguing. I am, &c. SIR, To the same. Oates, I October, 1703. You are a good man, and one may depend upon your promise. This makes me pass my days in comfortable hopes, when I remember you are not far off. I have your word for it, and that is better than city security. But for fear villanous business should impertinently step in again, between you and your kind purposes to us here; give me leave to beg the favour of you, that if you write again, before I have the happiness to see you, you will do me the favour to send me a note of what you have laid out for me, that I may pay you that part of the debt I am able, of what I owe you, and may not have so much to interrupt the advantages I am to reap from your conversation, when you honour me with your company, as an apology to be made, if I am not out of your debt before we meet. Doth Mr. Le Clerc's New Testament make any noise amongst the men of letters or divinity in your town? The divines of Brandenburg or Cleve have got the king of Prussia to prohibit it in his dominions; and the Walloon divines in Holland are soliciting the same at the Hague, but it is thought will not prevail*. I have not yet heard what are the exceptions made in particular, either by the one, or the other. If there be need of authentic interpreters of the word of God, what is the way to find them out? That is worth your thinking of, unless you would have every one interpret for himself; * See Mr. Bayle's Entretiens de Maxime et de Themiste; ou Response à ce que Mr. Le Clerc a écrit dans son X. tome de la Bibliotheque Choisie contre Mr. Bayle, à Rotterdam, 1707, in 8vo. page 70 et suiv. and what work would that make? Betwixt these two, find something if you can; for the world is in want of peace, which is much better than everlasting Billingsgate. I thought not to have troubled you with hard questions, or any thing that should have required a serious thought, any farther than what day you should pitch on to come hither. But everlasting wrangling, and calling of names, is so odious a thing, that you will pardon me, if it puts me out of temper a little. But I think of you, and some few such as you in the world, and that reconciles me to it; or else it would not be worth staying in an hour. I am, &c. A Letter to the Lady Calverley in Yorkshire. MADAM, WHATEVER reason you have to look on me, as one of the slow men of London, you have this time given me an excuse for being so; for you cannot expect a quick answer to a letter, which took me up a good deal of time to get to the beginning of it. I turned and turned it on every side; looked at it again and again, at the top of every page; but could not get into the sense and secret of it, till I applied myself to the middle. You, Madam, who are acquainted with all the skill and methods of the ancients, have not, I suppose, taken up with this hieroglyphical way of writing for nothing; and since you were going to put into your letter things that might be the reward of the highest merit, you would, by this mystical intimation, put me into the way of virtue, to deserve them. But whatever your ladyship intended, this is certain, that, in the best words in the world, you gave me the greatest humiliation imaginable. Had I as much vanity as a pert citizen, that sets up for a wit in his parish, you have said enough in your letter to content me; and if I could be swoln that way, you have taken a great deal of pains to blow me up, and make me the finest gaudy bubble in the world, as I am painted by your colours. I know the emperors of the East suffer not strangers to appear before them, till they are dressed up out of their own wardrobes; is it so too in the empire of wit? and must you cover me with your own embroidery, that I may be a fit object for your thoughts and conversation? This, Madam, may suit your greatness, but doth not at all satisfy my ambition. He, who has once flattered himself with the hopes of your friendship, knows not the true value of things, if he can content himself with these splendid ornaments. As soon as I had read your letter, I looked in my glass, felt my pulse, and sighed; for I found, in neither of those, the promises of thirty years to come. For at the rate I have hitherto advanced, and at the distance, I see, by this complimental way of treatment, I still am, I shall not have time enough in this world to get to you. I do not mean to the place where you now see the pole elevated, as you say, 54 degrees. A post-horse, or a coach, would quickly carry me thither. But when shall we be acquainted at this rate? Is that happiness reserved to be completed by the gossiping bowl, at your grand-daughter's lying-in? If I were sure that, when you leave this dirty place, I should meet you in the same star where you are to shine next, and that you would then admit me to your conversation, I might perhaps have a little more patience. But, methinks, it is much better to be sure of something, than to be put off to expectations of so much uncertainty. If there be different elevations of the pole here, that keep you at so great a distance from those who languish in your absence; who knows but, in the other world, there are different elevations of persons? And you, perhaps, will be out of sight, among the seraphims, while we are left behind in some dull planet. This the high flights of your elevated genius give us just augury of, whilst you are here. But yet, pray take not your place there before your time; nor keep not us poor mortals at a greater distance than you need. When you have granted me all the nearness that acquaintance and friendship can give, you have other advantages |