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Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Piozzi-Response.

itself lessen my regard; but until you have changed your opinion of Mr. Piozzi, let us converse no more.

God bless you.

XIX.-RESPONSE.

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Piozzi.

LONDON, July 8th, 1784.

DEAR MADAM: What you have done, however I may lament it, I have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injurious to I therefore breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, perhaps useless, but at least sincere.

me;

I wish that God may grant you every blessing, that you may be happy in this world for its short continuance, and eternally happy in a better state; and whatever I can contribute to your happiness I am very ready to repay, for that kindness that soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched.

Do not think slightly of the advice which I now presume to offer. Prevail upon Mr. Piozzi to settle in England; you may live here with more dignity than in Italy, and with more security; your rank will be higher, and your fortune more under your own eye. I desire not to detail my reasons, but every argument of prudence and interest is for England, and only some phantoms of imagination seduce you to Italy.

I am afraid, however, that my counsel is vain, yet I have eased my heart by giving it.

When Queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in England, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's attempting to dissuade her, attended on her journey, and when they came to the irremeable stream that seperated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her

Mr. Gray to Dr. Wharton-Amusements in Town. Reflections on Riches.

bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his own affection pressed her to return. The Queen went forward. If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no further. The tears stand in my eyes.

I am going into Derbyshire, and hope to be followed by your good wishes, for I am, with great affection,

Yours, etc.

Any letters that may come for me hither will be sent me.

*

XX.-AMUSEMENTS IN TOWN-REFLECTIONS ON RICHES.

Mr. Gray to Dr. Wharton.

CAMBRIDGE, Dec. 11th, 1746.

I would make you an excuse (as indeed I ought) if they were a sort of thing I ever gave any credit to myself, in these cases; but I know they are never true. Nothing so silly as indolence, when it hopes to disguise itself; every one knows it by its saunter, as they do his Majesty (God bless him!) at a masquerade, by the firmness of his tread, and the elevation of his chin. However, somewhat I had to say that has a little shadow of reason in it. I have been in town (I suppose you know) flaunting about at all kinds of public places with two friends lately

* The reader, who is no doubt familiar with the harsh strictures of Macaulay on this marriage, should bear in mind a more kindly criticism. In the Recollections of the Table Talk of Samuel Rogers, it is said that he was very intimate with the Piozzis, and thought the world most unjust in blaming Mrs. Thrale for marrying Piozzi. "He was a very handsome, gentlemanly, and amiable person, and made her a very good husband. In the evening he used to play to us most beautifully on the piano. Her daughters never would see her after that marriage; and (poor woman) when she was at a very great age, I have heard her say that she would go down on her knees to them, if they would only be reconciled to her."-H.

Mr. Gray to Dr. Wharton-Reflections on Riches.

returned from abroad. it to a solitary of six years' standing; and agreeable, well-meaning people of sense (thank Heaven there are so few of them!) are my peculiar magnet. It is no wonder then if I felt some reluctance at parting with them so soon; or if my spirits, when I returned back to my cell, should sink for a time, not indeed to storm and tempest, but a good deal below changeable. Besides, Seneca says (and my pitch of philosophy does not pretend to be much above Seneca), Nunquam mores, quos extuli, refero. Aliquid ex eo quod composui, turbatur; aliquid ex his, quæ fugavi, redit. And it will happen to such as us, mere imps of science. Well it may, when wisdom herself is forced often

The world itself has some attractions in

In sweet retired solitude

To plume her feathers, and let grow her wings,

That in the various bustle of resort

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaired.

It is a foolish thing that without money one cannot either live as one pleases, or where and with whom one pleases. Swift somewhere says, that Money is Liberty; and I fear money is Friendship too and Society, and almost every external blessing. It is a great, though an ill-natured comfort, to see most of those who have it in plenty, without Pleasure, without Liberty, and without Friends. I am not altogether of your opinion as to your historical consolation in time of trouble; a calm melancholy it may produce a stiller sort of despair (and that only in some circumstances, and in some constitutions); but I doubt no real comfort or content can ever arise in the human mind, but from Hope. I take it very ill you should have been in the twentieth year of the War,* and yet say nothing of the retreat before Syracuse ; * Thucydides.

William Cowper to John Johnson-On the Present of a Bustard.

is it, or is it not, the finest thing you ever read in your life? And how does Xenophon or Plutarch agree with you? For my part I read Aristotle, his Poetics, Politics, and Morals-though I do not know well which is which. In the first place, he is the hardest author by far I ever meddled with. Then he has a dry conciseness which makes one imagine one is

perusing a table of

contents rather than a book; it tastes for all the world like chopped hay, or rather like chopped logic, for he has a violent affection to that art, being, in some sort, his own invention; so that he often loses himself in little trifling distinctions and verbal niceties; and what is worse, leaves you to extricate him as well as you can. Thirdly, he has suffered vastly from the transcribblers, as all authors of great brevity necessarily must. Fourthly and lastly, he has abundance of fine uncommon things, which make him well worth the pains he gives one. You see what you are to expect from him.

XXI.-ON THE PRESENT OF A BUSTARD.-10 PÆAN.

William Cowper to John Johnson.

Jan. 31st, 1793.

MY DEAREST JOHNNY: Even as you foretold, so it came to pass. On Tuesday I received your letter, and on Tuesday came the pheasants: for which I am indebted in many thanks, as well as Mrs. Unwin, both to your kindness and to kind friend Mr. Copeman.

In Copeman's ear, this truth let echo tell,

'Immortal bards like mortal pheasants well;"
And when his clerkship's out, I wish him herds

Of golden clients for his golden birds.

Ignatius Sancho to Mr. Sterne-Appeal in behalf of his Race.

Our friends the Courtenays have never dined with us since their marriage, because we have never asked them; and we have never asked them because poor Mrs. Unwin is not so equal to the task of providing for and entertaining company as before this last illness. But this is no objection to the arrival here of a bustard; rather it is a cause for which we shall be particularly glad to see the monster. It will be a handsome present to them. So let the bustard come, as the Lord Mayor of London said of the hare, when he was hunting, "Let her come, a' God's name! I am not afraid of her!" Adieu, my dear cousin and caterer. My eyes are terribly bad, else I had much more to say to you. Ever affectionately yours,

W. C.

XXII.-APPEAL IN BEHALF OF HIS RACE.

Ignatius Sancho to Mr. Sterne.

1776.

REVEREND SIR: It would be an insult on your humanity (or perhaps look like it) to apologize for the liberty I am taking. I am one of those people whom the vulgar and illiberal call negroes. The first part of my life was rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family who judged ignorance the best and only security for obedience. A little reading and writing I got by unwearied application. The latter part of my life has been, through God's blessing, truly fortunate, having spent it in the service of one of the best and greatest families in the kingdom.* My chief pleasure has been books; philanthropy I adore. How

*The family of the Duke of Manchester. Such was the esteem in which the duke held the author of this letter, who had been a slave in the West Indies, that he left him an annuity in his will.—H.

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