still like to give you. Though I confess myself, yet even in this too I do but answer friendship, as being so sincerely and affectionately your most faithful friend and humble servant.

LETTER XLIX.

LORD SHAFTESBURY TO ROB. MOLESWORTH, ESQ.

Beachworth, Nov. 4, 1708.

DEAR SIR, I was at Chelsea when I received yours with the enclosed, and was so busied in the employment you had given me, by your encouragement and kind assistance in a certain affair, that I have let pass two posts without returning you thanks, for the greatest marks of your friendship that any one can possibly receive. Indeed I might well be ashamed to receive them in one sense; since the character you have given of me*, is so far beyond what I dare think suitable: though in these cases, one may better perhaps give way to vanity than in any other. But though friendship has made you over favourable, there is one truth, however, which your letter plainly carries with it, and must do me service. It shews that I have a real and passionate friend in you; and to have deserved such a friendship, must be believed some sort of merit. I do not say this as aiming at a fine speech; but in reality, where one sees so little friendship,

*This relates to a letter the lord Molesworth had written in his favour.

and of so short continuance, as commonly in mankind, it must be, one would think, even in the sex's eye, a pledge of constancy, fidelity, and other merit, to have been able to engage and preserve so lasting and firm a friendship with a man of worth. So that you see, I can find a way to reconcile myself to all you have said in favour of me, allowing it to have been spoken in passion; and in this respect the more engaging with the sex; who are as good or better judges than we ourselves, of the sincerity of affection.

But in the midst of my courtship came an east wind, and with the town smoke did my business, or at least would have done it effectually, had I not fled hither with what breath I had left. Indeed I could have almost laughed at my own misfortune; there is something so odd in my fortune and constitution. You may think me melancholy, if you will. I own there was a time in public affairs when I really was; for, saving yourself, and perhaps one or two more (I speak the most), I had none that acted with me, against the injustice and corruption of both parties; each of them inflamed against me, particularly one, because of my birth and principles; the other, because of my pretended apostasy, which was only adhering to those principles on which their party was founded. There have been apostates indeed since that time. But the days are long since past, that you and I were treated as Jacobites*. What to say for some

* The truly apostate Whigs, who became servile and arbitrary to please court empirics, branded all those as Jacobites, who adhered to those very principles that occasioned and justified the revolution.

companions of ours, as they are now changed *, I know not; but as to my own particular, I assure you, that since those sad days of the public, which might have helped on perhaps with that melancholy or spleen which you fear in me, and for certain have helped me to this ill state of health; I am now, however, as free as possible; and even in respect of my health too, excepting only the air of London, I am, humanly speaking, very passable; but gallantly speaking, and as a courtier of the fair sex, God knows I may be very far from passing. And I have that sort of stubbornness and wilfulness (if that be spleen) that I cannot bear to set a better face on the matter than it deserves; so I am like to be an ill courtier, for the same reason that I am an ill jockey. It is impossible for me to conceal my horse's imperfections or my own, where I mean to dispose of either. I think it unfair; so that could any quack, by a peculiar medicine, set me up for a month or two, enough to go through with my courtship, I would not accept his offer, unless I could miraculously be made whole. Now for a country health and a town neighbourhood, I am sound and well; but for a town life, whether it be for business or diversion, is out of my compass.

I say all this, that you may know my true state, and how desperate a man you serve, and in how desperate a case. Should any thing come of it,

* Here he means some who voted with him in his favourite bills, and who were originally Whigs; but out of pique and disappointment, became if not real Jacobites (which was scarce possible), yet in effect as bad, by promoting all the designs peculiar to that desperate party.

the friendship will appear the greater; or if nothing, the friendship will appear the same still, as to me myself. Your letter was delivered; I hope you will hear soon in answer to it. The old lord continues wonderfully kind to me, and I hear has lately spoken of me so to others. Our public affairs at home will be much changed by the late death of the prince*. But I have been able to see nobody; so will not attempt to write, and will end here with the assurance of my being, dear sir, your most obliged and faithful friend and servant.

LETTER L.

LORD SHAFTESBURY TO ROB. MOLESWORTH, ESQ.

DEAR SIR,

Beachworth, Nov. 25, 1708,

I SHOULD be very sorry if you missed mine, of last post but one, from Chelsea, in which I writ you my whole thoughts of the changes.

As for myself and private affairs (with which I did not trouble you in my last long one), you may judge by the place where I am, that they go not on very smartly. Making court any where, or in any sense, I find is not among my talents, if I have any. I have done more in this affair than I thought it possible for me to have done, having so great an opinion (as I still have) of the lady. But it is hard, even for us men, to know ourselves; harder

for women, however wise. She may like a younger man, and a sprightlier, far better perhaps than such a one as I am. But I believe such a one will not so like or value her as I do, or in the main make her so happy; so vain I am. But whatever my thoughts are of myself, I am not used to set myself off for my interest sake, and make the best of what I have. Health I have not in the highest degree. Be it spleen, or real infirmity, it is the same misfortune to a lady. Could I make a shew of health with safety, and pursue the lady, where I might have opportunity to win her liking by this means, and appearing better without doors than I am within at ordinary hours, I would not do this, whatever depended on it. But as the season is, and the severe north-east winds, and town smoke, I am driven from my quarters at Chelsea; and think not that I shall be able to return there, till the strength of the winter is over; so will take the first fair weather, to go to my winter quarters at St. Giles's. A thousand thanks to you for your kind concern in an affair which I have taken so much to heart. Your writing again in answer as you did, the first post, was mighty right, to me extremely obliging. If I see the least glimmering of hope, you shall be sure to know. I have given order at Chelsea about the vines: adieu, dear sir. I am most faithfully yours.

His paternal seat in Dorsetshire, which he used highly to commend.