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in life, this philosopbical temper will by degress wear off. The first object of your admiration will probably be a can: dle; and thence, (as we all of us do) you will contract a taste for the gaudy and the glaring, without inaking one moral reflection upon the danger of such false admiration as leads people, many a time, to burn their fingers. You will then begin to shew great partiality for some very good aunts, who will contribute all they can towards spoiling you; but you will be equally fond of an excellent inamina, who will teach you, by her example, all sorts of good qualities : only let me warn you of one thing, my dear, and that is, do not learn of her to have such an immoderate love of home, as is quite contrary to all the privileges of this polite age, and to give up so entirely all those pretty graces of whin, flutter, and affectation, which so many charitable poets have declared to be the prerogative of our ses. Ah! my poor cousin, to what purpose will you boast this prerogative, when your nurse tells you, with a pious care, to sow the seeds of jealousy and emulation as early as possible, that you
have a fine little brother come to put your nose out of joint. There will be nothing to be done then, i believe, but to be mighty good, and prove what, believe ine, admits of very little dispute, (though it has occasioned abundance) that we girls, however people give themselves airs of being disappointed, are by no means to be despised. Let the men unenvied shine in public, it is we must make their homes delightful to them; and, if they provoke us, no less uncomfortable. I do not expect you, my dear, to answer this letter yet awhile, but as, I dare say, you have the greatest interest with your papa, will beg you to prevail upon bim, that we may know by a line, (before his time is engrossed by another secret committee) that you and your mamma are well. In the mean tiine I will only assure you, that all here rejoice in your existence extremely; and that
My very young correspondent,
* The pious and ingenious author of the above letter, who died Jan. 9, 1770, aged 48, was the only daughter of Mr. Edward Talbot, Archdeacon of Berks, and younger son of Dr. Talbot, Bishop of Durham. There having been the most intimate friendship between him and the late Archbishop Secker, his widow and daughter lived as inmates in his grace's family till his death, when he left the interest of
13,000l. to them and the survivor of them, and afterwards the whole sum to charitable uses.
XV. Sir Walter Raleigh to Prince Henry, Son of James I.
London, August 12, 1611. MAY IT PLEASE YOUR Highness, THE following lines are addressed to your Highness, from a man who values his liberty, and a very small fortune in a remote part of this island, under the present constitution, above all the riches and honours that he could any where enjoy under any other establishment.
You see, Sir, the doctrines that are lately come into the world, and how far the phrase has obtained, of calling your royal father, God's vicegerent; which ill men have turned both to the dishonour of God, and the impeachment of his majesty's goodness. They adjoin vicegerency to the idea of being all-powerful, and not to that of being all-good, His majesty's wisdom, it is to be hoped, will save him from the snare that may lie under gross adulations; but your youth, and the thirst of praise, which I have observed in you, may possibly mislead you to hearken to those charmers, who would conduct your noble nature into tyranny. Be careful, O my prince! hear them not, fly from their deceits ; you are in the succession to a throne, from whence no evil can be imputed to you, but all good must be conveyed from you.
Your father is called the vicegerent of heaven ; while he is good, he is the vicegerent of heaven. Shall man have authority from the fountain of good to do evil ? No, my prince: let mean and degenerate spirits, which want benevolence, suppose your power impaired by a disability of doing injuries. If want of power to do ill, be an incapacity in a prince, with reverence be it spoken, it is an incapacity he hath in common with the Deity. Let me not doubt but all pleas, which do not carry in them the mutual happiness of prince and people, will appear as absurd to your great understanding, as disagreeable to your noble nature.
Exert yourself, () generous prince, against such sycophants in the glorious cause of liberty; and assuine such an ambition worthy of you, to secure your fellow-creatures from slavery, from a condition as much below that of
brutes, as to act without reason is less miserable than to act against it. Preserve to your future subjects the divine right of being free agents ; and to your own royal house the divine right of being their benefactors. Believe me, my prince, there is no other right can flow from God. While your highness is forming yourself for a throne, consider the laws as so many common-places in your study of the science of government; when you mean nothing but justice, they are an ease ar:d help to you. This way of thinking is what gave men the glorious appellation of deliverers and fathers of their country, this made the sight of them rouse their beholders into acclamations, and mankind incapable of bearing their very appearance, without applauding it as a benefit. Consider the inexpressible advantages which will ever attend your highness, while you make the power of rendering men happy the measure of your actions. While this is your impulse, how easily will that power be extended.
The glance of your eye will give gladness, and your very sentence have a force of bounty. Whatever some men would insinuate, you have lost your subjects when you have lost their inclinations. You are to preside over the minds, not the bodies of men; the soul is the essence of the man, and you cannot have the true man against his inclination. Choose therefore to be the king or the conqueror of your people; it may be submission, but it cannot be obedience that is passive.
I am, Sir,
most faithful Servant, 1770, Aug.
XVI. From Sir John Harrington, concerning his Dog
MR. URBAN, The inclosed curious and authentic remain of the famous Sir John Harrington, not having been discovered at the time of the publication of his elegant fugitive pieces in the little volume of Nuge Antiqua, printed at London in 1669, I must beg a place for it in your valuable Repository, where it will be preserved, and will, I doubt not, be truly acceptable to many of your readers. Your occasional correspondent,
Copy of a Letter from Sir John Harrington to Prince Henry,
son to King James I. concerning his Dogge.
Kelstone, June 14, 1608. MAY it please your Highnesse to accept in as goode sorte what I now offer as it hath done aforetyme; and I may saie I peile fausto; but having good reason to thinke your highnesse bad goode will and likinge to reade what others have tolde of my rare dogge, I will even give a brief historie of his goode deedes and straunge feats; and herein will I not plaie the curr myselfe, but in goode soothe relate what is no more nor lesse than bare verity. Although I mean not to disparage the deedes of Alexander's horse, I will match my dogge against him for good carriage, for if he did not bear a great prince on his back, I am bolde to saie be did often bear the sweet wordes of a greater princesse on his necke. I did once relate to your Highnesse after what sorte his tacklinge was wherewithe he did sojourn froin my bowse at the Bathe to Greenwiche Palace, and deliver up to the cowrte there such matters as were entrusted to his care. This he hathe often done, and came safe to the Bathe, or my bowse here at Kelstone, with goodlie returnes from such nobilitie as were pleased to emploie him ; nor was it ever tolde our ladie queene that this messenger did ever blab out concerninge his highe truste, as others have done in more special matters. Neither must it be forgotten as how he once was sente withe two charges of sacke wine froin the Bathe to iny howse, by my man Combe: and on his way the cordage did slackene, but my trustie bearer did not bear himseltc so wisely as to covertly hide one flasket in the rushes, and take the other in his teethe to the hovse, after whiche he wente forthe and returnede withe the other parte of his burden to dinner; hereat yr highnesse inay perchánce marvele and double, but we have livinge testimonie of those who wroughte in the fieldes and espiede his worke, and now live to tell they did muche longe to plaie the dogge, and give stowage to the wine themselves, but they did vefrain and watchede the passinge of this whole businesse. I need not saie how muche I dide once grieve at missinge this dogge, for on my journie towardes Londone, some idle pastimers did diverte themselres with huntinge mallards in a ponde, and conveyed bim to the Spanish ambassador's, where in a happie houre after six weekes I did heare of him ; but suche was the cowrte he did pay to the Don, that he was no lesse in good likinge there than at home. Nor did the household listen to my claim, or challenge, till I rested my suite on the dogges own proofs, and made him performe such feates before the nobles assembled, as put it past doubt that I was his master. I did send him to the hall in the time of dinner, and made him bringe thence a pheasant out the dish, which created much mirthe, but much more when he returnede at iny commandment to the table again, and put it again in the same cover. Herewith the companie was well content to allow me my claim, and we bothe were well content to accept it, and came honewardes. I could dwell inore on this matter, but jubr's renovare dolorem ; I will now saie in what manner he died. As we traveled towardes the Bathe, he leapede on my horses necke, and was more earneste in fawninge and courtinge my notice than what I had observed for time backe, and after iny chidinge his disturbing my passinge forwards, he gave ine some glances of such affection as movede me to cajole bim; but alas he crept suddenly into a thorny brake, and died in a short time. Thus I have strove to rehearse such of his deeds as maie suggest much more to yr highnesses thought of this dogge. But having saide so much of' him in prose, I will say soinewhat loo in verse, as you may find hereafter at the close of his historie. Now let Ulysses praise his dogge Argus, or Tobite be led by that dogge whose name doth not appeare, yet could I say such things of my Bungey, for so was he styled, as inight shame them both, either for good faith, clear wit, or wonderful deeds; to saie no more than I have said of his bearing letters to London and Greenwiche more than an hundred miles. As I doubte not but your highnesse would love my dogge if not myself, I have been thus tedious in his storie, and againe sale that of all the dogges near your father's court, not one hath more love, more diligence to please, or less pay for pleasinge, than him I write of; for verily a bone would contente my servante, when some expecle greater matters, or will koavishly find out a bone of contention.