In requital of those well intended offices which you are pleased so emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you will make in your devotions one petition for my eternal welfare. I am, dear sir, your affectionate servant. LETTER 180. From James Howell to Mr. R. S. on his neglecting to answer his letters. SIR, I sent you a letter on the 3d current, but it was not answered; I sent another of the 13th, like a second arrow, to find out the first, but I know not what's become of either. I send this to find the other two, and if this fail there shall go no more out of my quiver. If you forget me I have cause to complain, and more if you remember me; to forget, may proceed from the frailty of memory; not to answer me, when you mind me, pure neglect, and no less than a piacle. So I rest yours easily to be recovered. LETTER 181. From a Gentleman who had long neglected the correspondence of a Friend DEAR SIR, When I look back to the date of your two last, and reflect on the length of time they have remained unanswered, I feel the most poignant sensations of shame and regret. I will not aggravate the impropriety of my omission by amusing you with childish excuses of illness and business, but confess that an unaccountable negligence, and foolish habit of procrastination, have made me so inattentive. I throw myself on your kindness, to excuse my fault, to renew our interrupted correspondence, and must intreat you not to consider me as deficient in friendship for you, though appearance goes so far towards my condemnation in that particular. I beg it with an ill grace, but as my ease of mind depends on it, must request you to favor me with an answer to this as soon as possible; let me know every thing which may have interested you since you wrote last; I have many things to communicate, but am resolved to devote this letter to apology alone, and to the purpose of assuring you how sincerely I am, dear sir, Yours affectionately. LETTER 182. From Dr. Johnson to Mr. Boswell, in answer to repeated requests that he would write. DEAR SIR, Why should you importune me so earnestly to write? Of what importance can it be to hear of distant friends, to a man who finds himself welcome wherever he goes, and makes new friends faster than he can want them? If to the delight of such universal kindness of reception, any thing can be added by knowing that you retain my good will, you may indulge yourself in the full enjoyment of that small addition. I am glad that you have made the round of Litchfield with so much success; the oftener you are seen the more you will be liked. It was pleasing to me to read that Mrs. Aston was so well, and that Lucy Porter was so glad to see you. . In the place where you now are there is much to be observed; and you will easily procure skilful directors. But what will you do to keep away the black dog that worries you at home If you would, in compliance with your father's advice, inquire into the old tenure and old charters of Scotland, you would certainly open to yourself many striking scenes of the manners of the middle ages. The feudal system in a country half barbarous, is naturally productive of great anomalies in civil life. The knowledge of past times is naturally growing less in all cases not of public record,and the past time of Scotland is so unlike the present that is always difficult for a Scotchman to imagine the economy of his grandfather. Do not be tardy nor negligent, but gather up eagerly what can yet be found. We have, I think, once talked of another prospect, a history of the late insurrection in Scotland, with all its incidents. Many falsehoods are passing into uncontradicted history. Voltaire, who loved a striking story, has told what he could not find to be true. You may make collections for each of these projects, or for both, as opportunities occur, and digest them at your leisure. The great direction which Burton has left to melancholy men like you, is this-be not solitary; be not idle; which I would thus modify; if you are idle be not solitary; you are solitary be not idle. There is a letter for you, from Your humble servant LETTER 183. The Countess of Hertford to Dr. Burnett, occasioned by some meditations which he had sent her on the death of her Son. SIR, I am very sensibly obliged by the kind compassion you express for me under my heavy affliction. The meditations you have furnished me with afford the strongest motives for consolation that can be offered to a person under my unhappy circumstances. The dearly lamented son I have lost was the pride and joy of my heart; but I hope I may be the more easily excused for looking on him in this light, since he was not so from the outward advantages he possessed, but from the virtues and rectitude of his mind. That which flattered me, in regard to him, was not drawn from his distinguished rank, nor the beauty of his person, but from the hopes that his example would have been serviceable to the cause of virtue, and would have shown the younger part of the world that it was possible to be cheerful without being foolish or vicious, and to be religious without severity or melancholy. His whole life was one uninterrupted course of duty and affection to his parents; and, when he found the hand of death upon him, his only regret was to think on the agonies which must rend their hearts; for he was perfectly contented to leave the world, as his conscience did not, reproach him with any presumptu ous sins, and he hoped his errors would be forgiven. Thus he resigned his innocent soul into the hands of a merciful Creator, on the evening of his birth day, which completed his nineteenth year. You will not be surprised, sir, that the death of such a son should occasion the deepest sorrow; yet, at the same time, it leaves us the most comfortable assurance, that he is happier than our fondest wishes and care could have made him, which must enable us to support the remainder of the years which it shall please God to allot to us here, without murmuring or discontent, and quicken our endeavors to prepare ourselves to follow to that happy place, where our dear, valuable child is gone before us. I beg the continuance of your prayers, and am Your grateful humble servant. LETTER 184. Mr. Gray (author of the Elegy in a country Churcnyard) to his DEAR SIR, The unhappy news I have just received from you equally surprises and afflicts me. I have lost a person I loved very much, and have beenused to from my infancy; but am much more concerned for your loss, the circumstances of which I forbear to dwell upon, as you must be too sensible of them yourself; and will, I fear, more and more need a consolation that no one can give, except He who has preserved her to you so many years, and at last, when it was his pleasure, has taken her from us to himself; and perhaps if we reflect on what she left in this life, we may look on this as an instance of his goodness both to her and to those who loved her. She might have languished many years before your eyes in a continual increase of pain and totally helpless; she might have long wished to end her misery without being able to attain it; or perhaps even lost all sense, and yet continued to breathe; a sad spectacle to such as must have felt more for her than she could have done for herself. However you may deplore your own loss, yet think that she is at last easy and happy; and has now more occasion to pity us than we her. I hope, and beg you will support yourself with that resignation which we owe to Him, who, we have reason to believe, gave us our being for our good, and who deprives us of it with the same intention. It will be a source of melancholy but pleasing, consolation to you to reflect on the many virtues which your deceased partner possessed, the benevolent actions in which she was engaged, and the many pleasant hours which you have passed together. I would come to you directly, but you do not say should or not; if you do, I beg I may know it, hinder me, and I am in very good health. whether you desire I for there is nothing to Yours sincerely. PART V. MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. LETTER 185. From J. J. Rousseau, to a Friend who had asked his opinion of DEAR SIR, Duelling. Do not confound the sacred name of honor with this brutal prejudice, which places all the virtues in the point of the sword, and is proper only to make brave villains. In what does this prejudice consist? In the most extravagant and barbarous opinion that ever entered into the human mind; namely, that all the duties of society are supplied by bravery; that a man is no longer a knave, a villain, or a slanderer; is humane, polite, and has every good quality, when he will fight; that a lie becomes truth, robbery becomes lawful, perfidy becomes honesty, and infidelity laudable, when supported sword in hand; that an affront is always repaired by a lunge, and that a man is never injured provided he is killed. There is, I acknowledge, another kind, in which, gentility is mixed with cruelty, and where persons are killed by chance only, I mean fighting till blood is drawn only. Till blood is drawn! Good God! and what wouldst thou do with this blood? Cruel brute! wouldst thou drink it? The most valiant heroes of antiquity never dreamed of revenging their personal injuries by single combat: did Cesar ever send a challenge to Cato, or Pompey to Cesar, for so many reciprocal affronts? or was the greatest captain of Greece dishonored by suffering himself to be threatened with a cane? Different times, different customs: I know it; but are there now none but good ones; and may we not inquire, whether these customs are such as real honor requires? No; honor is invariable; it does not depend on prejudices, it can neither decay nor be revived; it has an eternal source in the heart of the just man, and in the unalterable rule of his duties. If the most enlightened, bravest, and most virtuous people in the world, had no knowledge of it, I insist it is not an institution of honor; but a detestable, barbarous fashion, worthy of its savage original. It remains to inquire, whether, when his own or another's life is at stake, an honest man follows the fashion; and whether there is not more true courage in braving, than in complying with it. What would a man do, who is willing to comply with it, in places where a contrary custom prevails? At Messina or Naples, he would wait for a man at the corner of the street, and stab him behind; in these countries this is called bravery, and honour does not consist in being killed yourself by your enemy, but in killing him. The just man whose life is spotless, and who will never show the least mark of cowardice, will refuse to soil his hands with manslaughter, and will on that account be the more honored; ever ready to serve his country, protect the helpless, fulfil the most dangerous duties, and defend, on every just and honorable occasion, what is dear to him at the expense of his life; all his actions are accompanied with that unshaken firmness, which true courage alone possesses. Through the assurance of a good conscience, he walks bare faced and neither avoids nor seeks his enemy; he fears dying less than he fears doing a bad action; he dreads the crime and not the danger; if vile prejudices arise one moment against him, every day of his honorable life is a fresh witness which contradicts them; and in so consistent a conduct, we judge of one action by all the others. Men who are easily affronted, and so ready to offend others, are for the most part, very dishonest people; who, for fear the world should show them openly the contempt, in which they are held, attempt to hide the infamy of their whole lives, by some affairs of honor. Such a one makes an effort, and presents himself once, to obtain a right to hide himself the rest of his life; true courage has more constancy and less eagerness; is always what it ought to be, and wants neither to be excited nor restrained. The good man possesses it every where ; in battle against the enemy; in company, in favor of the absent and truth; in his bed against the attacks of pain and death. The force of soul which inspires him, is of use at all times; it places virtue constantly above events, and does not consist in fighting, but in fearing nothing. LETTER 186. To a young Gentleman on his Marriage. MY DEAR SIR, By Mrs. Piozzi. I received the news of your marriage with infinite delight, and hope that the sincerity with which I wish you happiness, may excuse the liberty I take in giving you a few rules, whereby more certainly to obtain it. I see you smile at my wrong-headed kindness, and reflecting on the charms of your bride, cry out in a rapture, that you are happy enough without my rules. I know you are; but after one of the forty years which I hope you will pass pleasantly together, are 'over, this letter may come in turn, and rules for felicity may not be found unnecessary, however some of them may appear impracticable. Could that kind of love be kept alive through a married state, which makes the charm of a single one, the sovereign good would no longer be sought for; in the union of two faithful lovers it would be found. But reason shows us that this is impossible, and experience informs us that it never was so; we must preserve it as long, and support it as happily as we can. When your present violence of passion subsides, however, and a more cool and tranquil affection takes its place, be not hasty to censure yourself as indifferent, or to lament yourself as unhappy; you have lost that only which it is impossible to retain, and it were graceless amid the pleasures of a prosperous summer to regret the blossoms of a transient spring. Neither unwarily condemn your bride's insipidity, till you have |