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An Original Letter from-Lord-Keeper Egerton.

cannot be performed but by external actions; and where that faileth, the subltance itself faileth.

"Now this being your present state and condition, what is the best to be done herein? And what is the best remedy for the fame? My good lord, I want wisdom, and lack judgment, to advise you: but I will never want an honest and true heart to will and with you well; nor, being warranted by a good conscience, forbear to speak what I think. I have begun plainly. I hope your lordship will not be offended, if I proceed still after the same fashion. Bene cedit, qui tempori cedit. And Seneca faith, Lex ft nocentem puitit, cedendum eft justitite; ft innocentem, cedendum eft fortune. The best remedy is not to contend and strive, but humbly to submit. Have you given cause, and yet take scandal to yourself? Why, then, all you can do, is too little to make satisfaction. Is cause of scandal given to you? Yet policy, duty, and religion, inforce you to sue, yield, and submit to your sovereign; between whom and you there can be no proportion of duty. And Gad himself requireth it, as a principal bond of service to himself. When it is evident, that great good may ensue of it to your friends, your country, and sovereign; and extreme harm by the contrary, there can be no dishonour or hurt to yield; but in not doing it, is dishonour and impiety. The difficulty, my good lord, is to conquer yourself; which is the height of all true valour and fortitude, whereunto all your honourable actions have tended. Do it in this, and God will be pleased, her majesty well satisfied, your country will take good, and your friends comfort by it: yourself (I mention you last, for I know of all these you esteem yourself least) shall receive honour, and your enemies (if you have any) shall be disappointed of their bitter sweet hope.

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"Thus have I uttered -what I think, limply and truly, and leave you to determine. If I have erred, it is error amoris, and not amor errorts. Construe, I beseech you, and accept it, as I mean it, not as an advice, but as an opinion to be allowed or cancelled at your pleasure. If I might have conveniently have conferred with you myself, in person, I would not then have troubled you with so many idle blots. Yet whatsoever you shall judge of this mine opinion, be you well assured, my desire is to further all good means, that may tend to your good. And so, wishing you all honourable happiness, I rest

Your lordship's most ready and faithful (altho' of many most unable) Poor friend,

Tho. Egerton, C. S."

The EarPs spirited Anftwer, which it a Master-piece in Style, considering the Age in which it was written (dated October 18, 1598) was in

the following words:

"My very good lord,

this day living, whom I would sooner make a judge of any question, that did concern me, than yourself; yet must you give me leave to tell you, that, in such a case, I must appeal from all earthly judges j and if in any, then surely in this, where the highest judge upon ea~th hath imposed upon me, without trial or hearing, the most heavy punishment that ever hath been known, But since I must either answer your lordship's arguments, or forsake my just defence, I will force mine aching head to do some service for a small hour or two, altho' against my will. I must first then deny my discontentment, and that it was unseasonable, or of too long continuance. Your lordship should rather condole with me, than expostulate

■late about the same. Natural sea- owe unto my sovereign, I- answer,

sons are expected here below; but that if my country had, at this time,

violent and unseasonable storms come any need of my public service, her

from above. There is no tempest like to majesty, that governs the fame,

the pajjionate indignation of a prince; would not have driven me into apri^

nor yet at any time is it so unfeafon- vate life. I am tied unto my country

able, as nuhen it lighteth upon tliofe,ivho by two bonds: in public peace, to

might expiil cn harvest of their careful discharge carefully, faithfully and

and painful labours. He that is once industriously, the trust which is com

wounded must feel the smart while mitted unto me; and the other pri

his hurt be cured, or that the part vate, to sacrifice to it my life and car-,

be senseless; but no cure I expect, case, which hath been nourished in it.

her majesty's heart being obdurate Of the first I am freed, being dis

against me; and to be without fense miffed, discharged, and disabled, by

I cannot, being made of flesh and her majesty. Of the other, nothing

blood. But, say you, I may aim at can free me but death; and therefore

the end. I do more than aim; for I no occasion of my performance shall

see an end of all my good fortunes, offer itself, but / mill meet it half

•Snd have set an end to my desires, ivay. The indissoluble duty, which I

In this course do I any thing for mine owe to her majesty, is only the duty'

enemies? When I was in the court, of allegiance, which / never ivillx'

I found them absolute: and there- nor never can, fail in. The duty of

fore I had rather that they should attendance is no indissoluble duty. I

triumph alone, than they should have owe her majesty the duty of an earl,

me attendant on their chariots. Do and of lord-marshal of England. I

I leave my friends? When I was a have been content to do her majesty

eourtier, I could yield them no fruits the service of a clerk; but can neves

of my love unto them. Now I am serve her as a villain or stave. But

become an hermit, they shall bear no yet you fay, / must give ivay unto the

envy for their love towards me. Do Hmt. So I do; for now I fee the

} forsake myself, because I enjoy my- storm come, I put myself into the

self? or, do I overthrow my fortune, harbour. Seneca faith, " We must

fer that 1 build not a fortune of paper give place unto fortune." I know that

•walls, which every puff of wind fortune is both blind and strong, and

bloweth down? Do I ruinate mine therefore I go as far out of her way

honour, because I leave follotwittg the as I can. You fay, the remedy is not

pursuit, or wearing the false badge to strive. I neither strive nor seek for

or mark of the stiadonv of honour? remedy. But say you, I mv&yield and

Do I give courage, or comfort, to the submit. I can neither yield myself to

foreign foe, because I reserve myself be guilty, or this imputation laid upon,

so encounter with him? or because I me to be just. I owe so much to the

keep my heart frem baseness, altho' I author • of all truth, as I can never

cannot keep my fortune -from declin- yield falsehood to be truth, or truth to.

mgH No, my good lord, 1 give every be falsehood. Have I given cause,

of these considerations its due right; ask you, and take scandal, when I

and the more I weigh them, the more have done? No; I give no cause to.

I find myself justified from offending take so much as Fimbria's complaint

in any of them. As for the two last against me, for I did lotum telum cor-.

objections, that I forsake my country^ pore recipere. I patiently bear all,

when it hath most need of me, and and sensibly feel all, that I then re-'

fail in that indissoluble duty, which I ceived, when this scandal, was given.

meA To the Authors of the OXFORD MAGAZINE.

Hints to the Editors' of

tee. Nay more, when the 'vilest of all indignities are done unto me, doth religion enforce me to sue? Or doth ■god require it? Is it impiety not to ■do it? What, cannot princes ERR? Cannot subjects receive Wrong? Is an earthly power or authority InfiNite? Pardon me, pardon me, my good lord, / can never subscribe to these principles. Let Solomon's fool Laugh, when he is Stricken; let -those, that mean to make their profit of princes, shew to have no sense of princes Injuries; let them acknowledge an infinite absoluteness on earth, that do not believe in an infinite absoluteness in heaven. As for me, I have received Wrong, and feel it. My cause is good, I know it; and whatsoever come, all the powers cn earth can

the Oxford'Magaxihl. cjt

never /hew more strength and constancy in Oppressing, than I can jhew in suffering whatsoever can or shall be imposed upon me. Your lordsliip, in the beginning, maketh yourself a lookercn, and me a player of my own game; so you can See more than I can. Yet you must give me leave to tell you, in the end of my answer, that since you do but see, and I suffer, I must, of necessity, feel more than you. I must crave your lordstiip's patience to give him, that hath a crabbed fortune, licence to use a crabbed style; and yet, whatsoever my style is, there is no heart more humble to his superiors, nor any more affected towards your lordship, than that of

Your honour's poor friend,



IJudge you will have an extensive correspondence. You invite the ingenious; who are they? There is a certain good-natured principle in human nature, which occasions every man to think so of himself (without exception.) You'll say, notwithstanding this general invitation, you are at liberty to reject. Are you so? .Reject this if you dare.—I repeat it, reject it if you dare.—Why, Sirs, I "have such a Magazine in my head, of history, philosophy, politics, love, &c. &c. as will (if you treat me handsomely) add o monthly to the •number of your Magazines sold.— Likely, you fay, o stands for nothing. —Harkye, Gents.—What will it do •when placed after 400, 500, 6000, ha?

Nothing could have induced me to open my treasures, but my superlatively (that's a word iu your own way) great love of the public, and— the desire of seeing myself in print, la print! let me indulge the thought,

Why I shall buy two dozen, at least, myself, to give to my acquaintance; and after having flily endeavoured to make them believe something of mine's there, seem to be unwilling they should think so.—What!—You begin already to think I shan't do.— Spare your censures 'till you are farther acquainted with my abilities; inter nos, vel entre nous, between ourselves, or what you please; I am fully satisfied, and convinced, that the more you are the more you will admire.

But you don't like my style.— Come, then,—I'll address you with gravity and solidity, with—in short, as the Authors of the Oxford Magazine. Address you!—No— I'll address the Public: and that in a solemn, sublime, and new way—


Accept my gratulations; — Give me leave, I fay, to congratulate

thee "j


For why! There is come forth in the worsd, a work—in which, thro' channels yclept diversion and amusement, the streams cf instruction and knowledge are conveyed—-a work— which if duly attended to, and properly aieouraged, may reasonably be supposed, to surpass every thing of the kind; as it springs from the feat, the frvncipalfeat, of learning. A. work —the authors of which are (and will approve themselves) the most learned, most elegant, and most judicious, in the whole universe; and •who kindly f ght under the before neglected bankers of liberty and literature, against flavery and ignorance, from no venal ends (as they themselves' tell thee) but because they modestly (ay, modestly, however unfashionable) hope it will be useful in informing, and meliorating, the minds of many.'— flow d'ye, likeme stqjy f-~ -„

To be sure you will allow me judgment at least.—

To be serious. I have long wifh'd to fee (among the redundancy of monthly things) something, which, instead of being a medley of false politics, partial history, bad poetry, threadbare sentiments, fairy tales, quackifms, &c. &c. &c. might be composed of their contrasts — pleasingly instructive.—Your No. I. has given me hopes.- ■■ >' :•

Were Old England to be invaded;

(a propos to the present swarm of bad pamphlets) tho' a numerous army of brave and well-disciplined soldiers, should not be wanting; tho' experienced generals, and inferior officers, mould (properly) fill up every post, yet should I think it my duty to take arms; because (tho' likely to be useless) I might poffibly do. good- From the fame motives, I offer you my services.-—Perhaps you think them not worth acceptance.—Hear a tale.—

A man of taste designed to raise a grotto, and adorn it with precious stones, shells, &c. It was in a public place. While busily employed in this work, he was interrupted by a traveller (an admirer of the sine arts) who, charmed with the .appearance it (so early) made, in the benevolence of his heart, offered some foffils; which, tbqugh not by any means equal to many things there, he thought not incurious, and had treasured up. The schemer rejected them with scorn —scorn in return for kind intention. —The sequel—this — notwithstanding the number of his beauties, he was obliged frequently to fill up with. RubbishRubbish, Gents.—

I am (wishing you success)

Your humble servant,


To tke Edi-tors of the OXFORD MAGAZINE. Gent L- E.m I », ,' ,

NOthing cap be more eyident, .than that the conquest of Corsica by France will be of great detriment ,to the trade and commerce of Great Britain: some means or other should therefore be taken; to prevent that island from falling into the hands of the French. But have any such been taken? No; on the contrary, it appears, by the following paragraph, that we are, at this time, assisting France in the conquest of that island:

"Letters from Dublin tell u», that five transports arc now loading provisions in the river Liffey, for the use of the French troops in Corsica.'*

Is not this assisting France 'to conquer that island? Is it not aiding the French to destroy our own trade and commerce? Such is the present glorious policy of Great-Britain!

Your's, &c.


InterestingAN English merchant, settled at Petersoourg, being convicted of carrying on a criminal correspondence with the enemies of the Hate, was condemned to perpetual banishment in the deserts of Siberia. As his factors were accomplices in his guilt, they also soared the fame punisoment. Though he relates less what he saw than what he suffered, his acccount of this horrid place is not the less entertaining.

Interesting Ad<venlutls of an English Merchants who was bawjhetl for life t* Siberia* Ne-ver beforepublijhed.

Our journey was not sufficiently toilsome to be reckoned as part of our sufferings. After travelling some days through a frozen country, where the thickness of the snow prevented our diftinguisoing the colour of the ground, we arrived at the borders of a great lake, which our guards called Lengekir, where we found fledges provided for the rest of our journey, loaded with provisions; and the first care of our guards was to remark to us that their intention was to treat us with humanity. In fact, except the rigour of the cold, from which even the fires that we kept constantly burning could not preserve us, we suffered but little during the three weeks that we travelled on the ice and snow in these fledges.

During this long journey, we met with nothing to vary the scene, and lessen our uneasiness. The lake not being wide enough to conceal from our sight its 'mores, we perceived on both Tides, only vast plains covered with snow, without the least appearance of inhabitants. On the twentythird day, the acclamations of our guards advertized us of some change, and the sight which we immediately beheld, spared them the trouble of explaining to us the cause of their joy. The lake having insensibly grown narrower, we discovered at the loot of a hill some towers of a prodigious heighth, whose summits were Vol. I.

covered with gibbets, on which hung vast numbers of wretches, who had apparently deserved this punisoment for their crimes. Our guards ex* plained to us the meaning of this spectacle. The city, which we approached, being the abode of a great number of exiles, this dreadful spectacle was intended to put them in mind that they had themselves merited the fame punishment; and that in suffering them to live, the government bestowed on them a favour of which they were unworthy. Our guards acquainted us that this warning concerned us also, and exhorted us to profit by so terrible an example*

We were not long before we gained the soore, and, after travelling on foot about two leagues, arrived at the city, which answered the dreadful idea we had. conceived of it at a distance. Nature seemed to have forgot it in the distribution of its blessings. The fun was, indeed, seen there, but no benefit was reaped from its genial warmth, and scarcely any from its light; for the rays always falling obliquely, the inhabitants owed their day almost entirely to the whiteness of the snow. At our first entrance into the city, we mistook the houses for dens of wild beasts. The streets were as desert and frozen as the country. The only mark by which we could expect, to find inhabitants, was the smoke which issued through the tops of the thatched roofs.

Our guards, who were already acquainted with this dismal place, car» ried us directly to the governor. He received us humanely, but being desirous to inform himself of our crimes and our sentences, that he might regulate his treatment of us accordingly, gave orders for us to be re* moved to a distant part of the town, N till

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