This is my post: I was born for this--to rule England in anarchy, to

save her in danger--to devote myself for her. The blood of my forefathers

cries aloud in my veins, and bids me be first among my countrymen. Or, if

this mode of speech offend you, let me say, that my mother, the proud

queen, instilled early into me a love of distinction, and all that, if the

weakness of my physical nature and my peculiar opinions had not prevented

such a design, might have made me long since struggle for the lost

inheritance of my race. But now my mother, or, if you will, my mother's

lessons, awaken within me. I cannot lead on to battle; I cannot, through

intrigue and faithlessness rear again the throne upon the wreck of English

public spirit. But I can be the first to support and guard my country, now

that terrific disasters and ruin have laid strong hands upon her.

That country and my beloved sister are all I have. I will protect the

first--the latter I commit to your charge. If I survive, and she be lost,

I were far better dead. Preserve her--for her own sake I know that you

will--if you require any other spur, think that, in preserving her, you

preserve me. Her faultless nature, one sum of perfections, is wrapt up in

her affections--if they were hurt, she would droop like an unwatered

floweret, and the slightest injury they receive is a nipping frost to her.

Already she fears for us. She fears for the children she adores, and for

you, the father of these, her lover, husband, protector; and you must be

near her to support and encourage her. Return to Windsor then, my brother;

for such you are by every tie--fill the double place my absence imposes

on you, and let me, in all my sufferings here, turn my eyes towards that

336

The Last Man