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to fay, had that been a place to draw your picture at large. Herein I pretend not to any peculiar obligation above others that know you. For though perhaps I may love you better than many others; yet, I conclude, I cannot think better of you than others do. I am very glad you were provided of a tutor nearer home; and it had this particular good luck in it, that other wife you had been difappointed, if you had depended on Mr. Gibbs, as a letter I writ to you from London about it, I hope, acquainted you.

I am, dear Sir,

Your most affectionate
and most humble fervant,
John Locke.

own, that it was not without regret that I remembered, that this counterfeit would be before me with the man that I fo much defired to be with, and could not tell him how much I longed to put myself into his hands, and to have him in my arms. One thing pray let it mind you of, and when you look on it at any time, pray believe, that the colours of that face on the cloth are more fading and changeable than those thoughts which will always reprefent you to my mind, as the most valuable perfon in the world, whofe face I do not know, and one whofe company is fo defireable to me, that I fhall not be happy till I do. Though I know how little fervice I am able to do, yet my confcience will never reproach me for not withing well to my country: by which I mean Englishmen, and their intereft every where. There has been, of late years, a manufacture of linen carried on in Ireland, if I miftake not: I would be glad to learn from you the condition it is in; and, if it thrives not, what are the rubs and hindrances that ftop it. I fuppofe you have land. very proper to produce flax and hemp; why could not there be enough, efpecially of the latter, produced there to fupply his Majefty's navy? I fhould be obliged by your thoughts about it, and how it might be brought about. have heard there is a law requiring a certain quantity of hemp to be fown every year: if it be fo, how comes it to be,neglected? I know you have the fame public aims for the good of your country that I have, and therefore, without any apology, I take this liberty with you. I received an account of your health, and your remembrance of me, not long fince, by Mr. Howard, for which I return you my thanks. I trou bled you with a long letter about the beginning of the last month; and am, Sir. Your most affectionate and most humble fervant," John Locke.

$96. Mr. LOCKE to Mr. MOLYNEUX
Sir, London, Sept. 12, 1696.
Could the painter have made a pic-
ture of me capable of your converfa-
tion, I fhould have fat to him with more
delight than ever I did any thing in my
life. The honour you do me, in giving
me thus a place in your houfe, I look
upon as the effect of having a place al-
ready in your esteem and affection; and
that made me more eafily fubmit to
what methought looked too much like
vanity in me. Painting was defigned
to reprefent the Gods, or the great
men that flood next to them. But friend-
hip, I fee, takes no measure of any
thing, but by itself: and where it is
great and high, will make its object fo,
and raife it above its level. This is that
which has deceived you into my pic.
ture, and made you put fo great a com-
pliment upon me and I do not know
what you will find to justify yourfelf to
thofe who fhall fee it in your poffeffion,
You may indeed tell them, the original
is as much yours as the picture; but
this will be no great boat, when the
man is not more confiderable than his
fhadow. When I looked upon it after
it was done, methought it had not that
countenance I ought to accoft you with.
I know not whether the fecret difplea-
fure I felt whilft I was fitting, from the $97.
confideration that the doing of my pic
ture brought us no nearer together,

ade me look grave: but this I must

Mr. MOLYNEUX to Mr. Lock.
Dublin, Sept. 20, 1698.

Honourable dear Sir,

I arrived here fafely the 15th in

I

fant and now that the ruffling and fatigue of my journey is a little over, I fit down to a task, which I must confefs is the hardest I was ever under in my life; I mean, expreffing my thanks to you fuitable to the favours I received from you, and fuitable to the inward fense I have of them in my mind. Were it poffible for me to do either, I should in fome measure be fatisfied; but my inability of paying my debts makes me afhamed to appear before my creditor. However, thus much with the ftricteft fincerity I will venture to affert to you, that I cannot recollect, through the whole courfe of my life, fuch fignal in stances of real friendship, as when I had the happiness of your company for five weeks together in London. 'Tis with the greatest fatisfaction imaginable, that I recollect what then paffed between us, and I reckon it the happieft fcene of my

as my friend, and therefore ufed no ce-
remony, nor can receive any thanks but
what I owe you doubly, both for your
company, and the pains you were at to
beltow that happiness on me. If you
keep your word, and do me the fame
kindness again next year, I shall have
reafon to think you value me more than
you fay, though you fay more than I
can with modetty read. I find you were
befet with bufinefs when you writ your
letter to me, and do not wonder at it;
but yet, for all that, I cannot forgive
your filence concerning your health, and
your fon. My fervice to him, your bro-
ther, and Mr. Burridge: and do me the
juftice to believe that I am, with a per-
fect affection, dear Sir,

Your most humble
and most faithful fervant,
John Locke.

whole life. That part thereof efpecially $99. Mr. LoCKE to Mr. BURRIDGE.

which I paffed at Oates, has made fuch
an agreeable impreffion on my mind, that
nothing can be more pleafing. To all in
that excellent family, I befeech you, give
my most humble refpects. 'Tis my duty
to make my acknowledgments there in a
particular letter; but I beg of you to
make my excufe for omitting it at this
time, because I am a little preffed by
fome bufinefs that is thrown upon me
fince my arrival: to which alfo you
are obliged for not being troubled at
prefent with a more tedious letter from,
Sir, your molt obliged

and entirely affectionate
friend and fervant,
William Molyneux,

98. Mr. LOCKE to Mr. MOLYNEUX.
London, Sept. 29, 1698.
Dear Sir,
Yours of the 20th has now difcharged
me from my daily employment of look-
ing upon the weather-cock, and heark-
ening how loud the wind blowed.
Though I do not like this distance, and
fuch a ditch betwixt us, yet I am glad
to hear that you are fafe and found on
t'other fide the water. But pray you
fpeak not in fo magnificent and courtly
a ftyle of what you received from me
here. I lived with you and treated you

London, Oates, Oct. 27. 1698.

Sir, You gueffed not amifs, when you faid in the beginning of yours of the 13th inftant, that you gave me the trouble of a letter: for I have received few letters in my life, the contents whereof have fo much troubled and afflicted me, as that of yours. I parted with my excellent friend, when he went from England, with all the hopes and promifes to myfelf of feeing him again, and enjoying him longer in the next fpring. This was a fatisfaction that helped me to bear our feparation; and the fhort tafie I had of him here, in this our first interview, I hoped would be made up in a longer converfation, which he promifed me the next time: But it has ferved only to give me a greater fenfe of my lofs, in an eternal farewel in this world. Your earlier acquaintance may have given you a longer knowledge of his virtue and excellent endowments: A fuller fight, or greater efteem of them, you could not have than I. His worth and his friendship to me made him an inef timable treasure: which I must regret the lofs of the little remainder of my life, without any hopes of repairing it any way. I fhould be glad, if what I owed the father, could enable me to do P p 2

any

any fervice to his fon. He deferves it for his own fake, as well as for his father's. I defire you therefore to affure those who have the care of him, that if there be any thing, wherein I at this distance may be any way ferviceable to young Mr. Molyneux, they cannot do me a greater pleasure than to give me the opportunity to fhew that my friendfhip died not with his father. Pray give my most humble fervice to Dr. Molyneux, and to his nephew. I am, Sir, Your most faithful

and humble fervant,
John Locke.

me with your own embroidery, that I may be a fit object for your thoughts and converfation? This, Madam, may fuit your greatness, but doth not at all fatisfy 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 thefe fplendid ornaments. As foon as I had read your letter, I looked in my glafs, felt my pulfe, and fighed; for I found in neither of thofe the promises of thirty years to come. For at the rate I have hitherto advanced, and at the diftance I fee by this complimental way of treatment I ftill am, I fhall not have

$100. Mr. LOCKE to the Lady CAL- time enough in this world to get to you.

Madam,

VERLEY.

Whatever reason you have to look on me as one of the flow men of London, you have this time given me an excufe for being fo: for you cannot expect a quick anfwer to a letter, which took me up a good deal of time to get to the be. ginning of it. I turned, and turned it on every fide; looked at it again and again, at the top of every page; but could not get into the fenfe and fecret of it, till I apply'd myfelf to the middle. You, Madam, who are acquainted with all the kill and methods of the ancients, have not, I fuppofe, taken up with this hieroglyphical way of writing for nothing and fince 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 deferve them. But whatever your ladyship intended, this is certain, that in the beft words in the world, you gave me the greatest humiliation imaginable. Had I as much vanity as a pert citizen, that fets up for a wit in his parish, you have faid enough in your letter to content me: and if I could be fwoln that way, you have taken a great deal of pains to blow me up, and make me the fineft gaudy bubble in the world, as I am painted by your colours. I know the emperors of the Eat fuffer not ftrangers to appear before them, till they are dreffed up out of their own wardrobes: is it fo too in the empire of wit? and muft you cover

I do not mean to the place, where you now fee the pole elevated, as you fay, 64 degrees. A poft- horfe, or a coach, would quickly carry me thither. But when fhall we be acquainted, at this rate? Is that happiness reserved to be compleated by the goffiping bowl, at your granddaughter's lying-in? If I were fure, that when you leave this dirty place, I should meet you in the fame ftar where you are to fhine next, and that you would then admit me to your converfation, I might perhaps have a little more patience. But methinks it is much better to be fure of fomething, than to be put off to expectations of fo much uncertainty. If there be different elevations of the pole here, that keep you at fo great a distance from thofe who languish in your abfence; who knows but in the other world there are different elevations of perfons? And you, perhaps, will be out of fight among the feraphims; while we are left behind, in fome dull planet. This, the high flight of your elevated genius gives us juft augury of, whilft you are here. But yet, pray take not your place there before your time; nor keep us poor mortals at a greater diftance than you need. When you have granted me all the nearness that acquaintance and friendship can give, you have other advantages enough ftill, to make me fee how much I am beneath you. This will be only an enlargement of your goodnefs, without leffening the adoration due to your other excellencies. You feem to have fome thoughts of the town again. If the parliament, or the

term,

term, which draw fome by the name and appearance of bufinefs; or if company and mufic-meetings, and other fuch entertainments, which have the attractions of pleafure and delight, were of any confideration with you; you would not have much to fay for Yorkshire, at this time of the year. But thefe are no arguments to you, who carry your own fatisfaction, and I know not how many worlds always about you. I would be glad you would think of putting all thefe up in a coach, and bringing them this way. For though you thould be never the better, yet there be a great many here that would, and amongst them, The humbleft of

your lady fhip's fervants, John Locke. § 101. Mr. LOCKE to ANTHONY COLLINS, Efq.

Sir, Oates, Sept. 20, 1703. Yours of the 7th, which I just now received, is the only letter I have a long time wished for, and the welcomeft that could come; for I long'd 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 fent me, which came fafe, and to acknowledge my great obligations to you, for one of the most villainous books, that I think ever was printed. It is a prefent that I highly value. I had heard fomething of it, when a young man in the university; but poffibly fhould never have feen this quinteffence of railing, but for your kindness. It ought to be kept as the pattern and standard of that fort of writing, as the man he spends it upon ought for that of good temper, and clear and ftrong arguing. I am, &c. § 102. To the fame.

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me scope enough, and afford me large matter of acknowledgment. But when I think of you, I feel fomething of nearer concernment that touches me; and that noble principle of the love of truth, which poffeffes you, makes me almoft forget thofe other obligations, which I fhould be very thankful for to another. In good earnest, Sir, you cannot think what a comfort it is to me, to have found out fuch a man and not only fo, but I have the fatisfaction that he is my friend. This gives a gufto to all the good things you fay to me in your letter. For though I cannot attri bute them to myself (for I know my own defects too well) yet I am ready to perfuade myself you mean as you fay; and to confefs the truth to you, I am almost loth to undeceive you, fo much do I value your good opinion. But to fet it upon the right ground, you must know that I am a poor ignorant man, and if I have any thing to boat of, it is that I fincerely love and feek truth, with indifferency whom it pleafes or difpleafes. I take you to be of the fame fchool, and fo embrace you. And if it please God to afford me fo much life as to fee you again, I fhall communicate to you some of my thoughts tending that way. You need not make any apology for any book that is not yet come. I thank you for thofe you have fent me: they are more, I

think, than I fhall ufe; for the indifpofition of my health has beaten me almoft quite out of the ufe of books; and the growing uneasiness of my distemper makes me good for nothing. I am, &c.

§ 103. To the fame.

Oates, Jan. 24,, Sir, 1703-4. Till your confidence in my friendfhip, and freedom with me, can preferve you from thinking you have need to make apologies for your filence, whenever you omit a poft or two, when in your kind way of reckoning you judge

letter to be due; you know me not fo well as I could with: nor am I fo little⚫ burdenfome to you as I defire. I could be pleafed to hear from you every day; because the very thoughts of you every * An asthma.

Pp3

day

day afford me pleasure and fatisfaction. But I befeech you to believe, that I measure not your kindnefs by your opportunities of writing; nor do fufpect that your friendship faulters, whenever your pen lies a little fill. The fincerity you profefs, and I am convinced of, has charms in it, against all the little phantoms of ceremony. If it be not fo, that true friendship fets one free from a fcrupulous obfervance of all thofe little circumstances, I fhall be able to give but a very ill account of myself to my friends; to whom when I have given poffeflion of my heart, I am lefs punctual of making of legs, and killing my hand, than to other people, to whom that outside civility is all that belongs. I received the three books you fent me. That which the author fent me, deferves my acknowledgments more ways than one: and I must beg you to return it. His demonftrations are fo plain, that if this were an age that followed reafon, I fhould not doubt but this would pre. vail. But to be rational is fo glorious a thing, that two-legged creatures generally content themfelves with the title; but will not debafe fo excellent a faculty, about the conduct of fo trivial a thing, as they make themselves. There never was a man better fuited to your wishes, than I am. You take a pleafure in being troubled with my commiffions; and I have no other way of commerce with you, but by fuch importunities. I can only fay, that, were the tables changed, I fhould, being in your place, have the fame fatisfaction; and therefore confidently make ufe of your kind offer. I therefore beg the favour of you to get me Mr. Le Clerc's Harmony of the Evangelifts, in Englith, bound very finely in calf, gilt and lettered on the back, and gilt on the leaves; fo alfo I would have Moliere's works (of the best edition you can get them) bound. Thefe books are for the ladies; and therefore I would have them fine, and the leaves gilt as well as the back, Moliere, of the Paris edition, I think, is the belt, if it can be got in London in quires. You fee the

• Reasons against refraining the prefs, London, 1704, in qua:tc.

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Oates, May 19, 1704.

Nothing works fo fteadily and effectually as friendship, Had I hired a man to have gone to town in my bufinefs, and paid him well, my commiffions would not have been fo foon, nor fo well difpatched, as I find by yours of the 16th, they have been by you. You fpeak of my affairs, and act in them with fuch an air of intereft and fatisfaction, that I can hardly avoid thinking, that I oblige you with employing you in them. 'Tis no fmall advantage to me, to have found fuch a friend, at the laft fcene of my life; when I am good for nothing, and am grown fo ufelefs, that I cannot but be fure that in every good office you do me, you can propofe to yourfelf no other advantage, but the pleasure of doing it. Every one here finds himself obliged, by your late good company. As for myfelf, if you had not convinced me by a fenfible experiment, I could not have believed, I could have had fo many happy days together. I fhall always pray, that yours may be multiplied. Could I in the leaft contribute any thing thereto, I fhould think myfelf happy in this poor decaying ftate of my health; which, though it affords me little in this world to enjoy, yet I find the charms of your company make me not feel the want of ftrength, or breath, or any thing elfe.

The bishop of Gloucefter came bither the day you went from hence, and in no very good ftate of health. I find two groaning people make but an uncomfortable concert. He returned yefterday, and went away in fomewhat a better ftate. I hope he got well to town.

Enjoy your health and youth whilft you have it, to all the advantages and improvements of an innocent and plea. fant life; remembering that merciless. old-age is in purfuit of you, and when it overtakes you, will not fail, fomė

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