Letters of John Randolph, to a young relative : embracing a series of years, from early youth, to mature manhood

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LETTER I. Georgetown, Jan. 31, 1806

Mr DEAR Theodore,

I SEND you by the New Orleans mail, " letters written by the great Mr. Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham, to his nephew, when at college." You know my opinion of Lord Chatham: that he was at once the greoitesi practical statesman that ever lived, and the most transcendent orator. With all this, he was a truly good Tuan, (indeed, he must have been, since vh'tue is essential to great excellence in laudable pursuits.) and the most elegant and polished geu" tieman of his time.

When I speak of a practical statesman, I wish you to understand me. A man may possess great theoretic knowledge on any subject, and yet be a poor practitioner. To take an example from the profession which you seem to have chosen, in preference to any other, — a man might have all the best medical authors by heart, know the treatment which is considered to be most judicious for every disease, and the properties of every medicine, so as, in conversatioti,

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to vie with any, and to outshine the greater part of his profession, and yet be so deficient m practice, as, when brought to a patient, to be unable to tell what his disease was, and, of course, how it was to have been treated, — whether the pulse indicated depletion or stimulants. Such is the difierence between theory and practice; one is disease on paper, where all goes smoothly, and the patient infallibly recovers: the other is disease in' the subject of malady, in man himself, where symptoms are complicated, and the various considerations of age, sex, and condition, in the patient, baffle the most skilful, and dismay the most experienced — where the patient dies.

I fear, from the shortness of your letter, from the incorrectness of its orthography and syntax, and from the omission of some material words, that want of paper was not your only cause for omitting to write the week before last. Enclosed you have something to obviate that objection. —

*' There is only 20 more to carry down."

Note. — A verb does not agree with its nominative IN number and person.

^^ Plowing" — which in the preceding line you have spelt correctly.

*' No accidents has befallen." A verb does not, &c.

*< The reason that I did not (the word write omitted) last week, was, &c." No attention to points, at all.

Number of lines in your letter, nine,

errors four;*

Surely you cannot have read over, once what you wrote. Moreover, the hand is a very bad one; many words blotted, and every part of it betrays negligence and a carelessness of excelling — a most deplorable symptom in a young man.

Is Dr. Robinson in Farmville, and is he likely to remain there? Would you prefer being at Hamp. Sid. Coll. to stay-

• Bieeid^s omitting the year 1806.

JOHN RANDOLPH. H

ing at Bizarre? 1 am very uneasy about you, my dear boy. In your letters I see no trace of your studies — no mention made of Ovid or Homer — nothing as to your manner of disposing of your time. As soon as I am well enough, I shall set oflf for Bizarre. God bless you.

Your affectionate friend and relation,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

What has become of the journal that I directed you to keep?

Have you ever received the two banks notes that I sent you.

Do not imitate your father's handwriting — it is a running hand, unfit for you at present. You must learn to write distinctly first, as children learn to read, letter by letter,, syllable by syllable, word by word. The first page of this letter is a very good copy for you — particularly the date.

LETTER H.

Georgetown, Feb. 2, 1806.

My dear Theodore,

I WROTE to you, yesterday, by the New Orleans mail, and, through mistake, dated my letter in January. I would have you, my dear boy, consider the little book, which I sent at the same time, as coming from my head and heart, and addressed to your own. Our situation, and that of its writer and his nephew, are not dissimilar. Let us, then, profit by their example. Whilst I endeavour to avail myself of the wisdom and experience of the one, do you also strive to imitate the amiable docility of the other; and so may God bless you, my dear boy.

Above all things abstain from going, on any occasion, td Farmville, when you can possibly avoid it. You can meet no company Mere, from whom you can derive improvement of any sort; but much of an opposite description. Tell Sam, that I rely upon him. Endeavour to prevent the wood from being pillaged, and ask Mr. Johnston to assist you. Keep a watch upon all trespassers, and threaten them, in my name, with a prosecution when I return: not that I mean seriously to go to law, (which I detest,) about a few tiers of wood; but, situated as the estate is, it is too much exposed to real injury from such marauders, to submit qui^ etly to their inroads.

As soon as I get better, I shall set out for Bizarre.

Yours truly, J. R.

How do you come on with Ovid and Hume?

Who is the greatest man that you have met with in English history? (I'll answer for it, he proves the most virtuous:) and why do you think him so great?

Who is the worst man?

The most learned?

I shall bring home some good maps of our own country.

Since Thursday, the 23d of January, (inclusive,) we have had mild warm weather, with rain and frost. What might be called May weather. You promised to keep an account of the weather at Bizarre, but your little scraps of letters contain nothing relating to it. By this time, the ploughs ought to have finished the low-ground field next C. Allen's, — when they must begin on the opposite low-ground field, next B, Allen's, on this side of the R,

LETTER III. Georgetown, Saturday, Feb. 15, 1806

Mr DDAR Boy,

After I had gone to bed last night, and lay tumbling and tossing about, uneasy and unable to rest, my thoughts running upon many an anxious subject, among which you were not forgotten, I was relieved by the entrance of a servant, who handed me your letter of the 9th, with some others. But that relief was only temporary. My mind fixed itself on your situation for the remainder of the night, and I have determined to settle you at school at Winchester, unless (of which I have no expectation) I shall find Hampden Sidney very greatly altered for the better. At your time of life, my son, I was even more inelegibly placed than you are, and would have given worlds for quiet seclusion and books. I never had either. You will smile when I tell you that the first map that I almost ever saw was one of Virginia, when I was nearly fifteen; and that I never (until the age of manhood) possessed any treatise on geography, other than an obsolete Gazetteer of Salmon, and my sole atlas were the five maps, if you will honour them with that name, contained in the Gazetteer, each not quite so big as this page, of the three great eastern divisions, and two western ones, of the earth. The best and only Latin dictionary that I ever owned, you now have. I had a small Greek lexicon, bought with my own pocket money, and many other books, acquired in the same way, (from 16 to 20 years of age;) but these were merely books of amusement. I never was with any preceptor, one only excepted, (and he left the school after I had been there about two months,) who would deserve to be called a Latin or Greek scholar; and I never had any master of modern languages, but an old Frenchman, (some gentleman valet, I sup- ^pose,) who could neither write nor spell.

I mention these things, my child, that you may not be disheartened. 'Tis true, that I am a very ignorant man, for one who is thought to have received a learned education. You (I hope) will acquire more information, and digest it better. There is an old proverb, << You cannot teach an old dog new tricks." Yours is the time of life to acquire knowledge. Hereafter you must use it; like the young, sturdy labourer, who lays up, whilst he is fresh and vigorous, provision for his declining age.

When I asked whether you had received the bank notes I sent you, I did not mean to inquire hoio you had laid them out. Don't you see the difference? From your not mentioning that they had come to hand, (a careless omission; you should break yourself of this habit,) and your cousin informing me that she had not received two packets sent by the same mail, I concluded that the notes were probably lost or embezzled. Hence my inquiry after them. No, my son; whatever cash I send you (unless for some special purpose) is yours: you will spend it as you please, and I have nothing to say to it. That you will not employ it in a manner that you ought to be ashamed of, I have the fullest confidence. To pry into such affairs would not only betray a want of that confidence, and even a suspicion discreditable to us both, but infringe upon your rights and independence. For, although you are not of an age to be your own master, and independent in all your actions, yet you ai'e possessed of rights which it would be tyranny and injustice to withhold, or invade. Indeed, this independence, which is so much vaunted, and which young people think consists in doing what they please, when they grow up to man's estate, (with as much justice as the poor negro thinks liberty consists in being supported in idleness, by other people's labour,) — this independence is but a name. Place us where you will, — along with our rights there must coexist correlative duties, — and the more exalted the station, the more arduous are these last. Indeed, as the duty is precisely correspondent to the power, it follows that the richer, the wiser, the more powerful a man is, the greater is the obligation upon him to employ his gifts in lessening the sum of human misery; and this employment constitutes

JOHN RANDOLPH. JQ

happiness, which the weak and wicked vainly imagine to consist in wealth, finery, or sensual gratification. Who so miserable as the bad Emperor of Rome? Who more happy than Trajan and Antoninus? Look at the fretful, peevish, rich man, whose senses are as much jaded by attempting to embrace too much gratification, as the limbs of the poor post horse are by incessant labour. [See the Gentlemen and* Basket-makers, and, indeed, the whole of Sandford and Merton.]

Do not, however, und'ervalue, on that account, the character of the real gentleman, which is the most respectable amongst men. It consists not of plate, and equipage, and rich living, any more than in the disease which that mode of life engenders; but in truth, courtesy, bravery, generosity, and learning, which last, although not essential to it, yet does very much to adorn and illustrate the character of the true gentleman. Tommy Merton's gentlemen were no gentlemen, except in the acceptation of innkeepers, (and ihe great vulgar, as well as the small,) with whom he who rides in a" coach'and six, is three times as great a gentleman as he who drives a post-chaise and pair. Lay down this as a principle, that truth is to the other virtues, what vital air is to the human system. They cannot exist at all without it; and as the body may live under many diseases, if supplied with pure air for its consumption, so may the character survive many defects, where there is a rigid attachment to truth. AW eqtiivocat ion and subterfuge belong to falsehood^ which consists, not in xis'mgjalse words only, but in conveying false impressions, no matter how; and if a person deceive himself, and I, by my silence, sufier him to remain in that error, I am implicated in the deception, unless he be one who has no right to rely upon me for information, and, in that case, 'tis plain, I could not be instrumental in deceiving him.

I send you two letters, addressed to myself, whilst at school — of which I now sorely repent me I did not then avail myself, (so far, at least, as my very ineligible situation wouJd admit.) Will you accept a little of my experience^ instead of buying some of your own at a very dear rate? — and so, God bless you, my son.

Your affectionate uncle,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

P. S. In consideration of my being surrounded with company, and having, at the same time, a horrible headach, excuse this scratch.

I shall send you Walker's Dictionary, for pronouncing the English language. Among other vulgarisms, I hope it will break you and Buona of saying horrubble, sensubble, indolunce, for horrible, sensible, indolence, &c. You will soon get over this, by accustoming yourself to say horri, sensi, (as if spelled horry, &c.,) dividing the word, and then adding the final syllable (6/e.) You know Pve long been contending against this barbarism, which deforms the pronunciation of Virginia.

" Mah," instead of my, pronounced sometimes mie, and, at others, me, the e short, as bring me my hat.

Famully family.

Possubul possible, &c. &c.

Vigilunt vigilant, &c. &c.

Another omission: —

You say nothing of Duchess, or the other mares and the foals. Are they with foal ? (or, as the sportsmen say, « infoair')

When you write, have my letter before you, and (after telling me every thing that suggests itself to your mind) examine and reply to the points it contains.

Copy the enclosed letters, and take special care of the originals. I am glad that you have read Lord Chatham's letters, and yet more, that you are pleased with them. They will bear, and, I hope, receive, repeated readings.

Enclosed are ten dollars. United States Bank, payable at Washington, No. 7045, E.

LETTER IV. Georgetown, Saturday, March 1, 1800, My dear Theodore

Your letter has relieved me from great uneasiness — as I got none from you last week, and was afraid that you were sick, or that some accident had befallen you. Why, my dear boy, did this happen? — and why will you, through carelessness, expose those who love you to sufier on your account? I would not write myself, hoping that my silence would be a more forcible admonition than any I could devise.

Your letter is not a bad one, although it has some errors in it; it might have been more correct, yet worse. Do not, however, undervalue correctness; for, although mere freedom from defect does not constitute excellence, which is i» itself a positive quality, yet great defects deform the greatest excellence.

"We do not say " from there," but " from thence." The present participle of the verb " to put,^' is spelled with a double t, "pu^/ing," and not "pu/ing." The word plough (in every sense of it) is spelled with '■'■ugh" and not a ^^w" as you have it, "plo?^;ing." I have much fault to find with the handwriting of your letter: it is hurried, confused, in short, a mere scratch, indistinct, and hardly legible; where I am obliged to guess at the letters; and, from the mode of writing and folding up in a hurry, before the ink had dried, much blotted. Take my advice, my son, and do not attempt a running hand yet. The way to acquire a good running hand, is to begin with a fair., large, clean-cut, and distinct character. Children always learn to stand alone, and to walk, step by step, before they run. There is another excellent rule, which, if you now adhere to it, will be of great service to you through life; " make haste slowly." Hurry always occasions blunder and delay. When, therefore, you make any mistake, or blot, write all over again>

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fairly. The labour of doing this will make you careful and correct; and, when the habit is formed, the trouble is over. Habit is truly called " second nt. jre." To form good habits is almost as easy as to fall into bad. What is the difference between an industrious, sober man and an idle drunken one, but their respective habits? 'Tis just as easy for Mr. Harrison to be temperate and active, as 'tis for poor Knowles to be the reverse; with this great difference, that, exclusively of the effects of their respective courses of life on their respectability and fortunes, the exercises of the one are lollowed by health, pleasure, and peace of mind, whilst those of the other engender disease, pain, and discontent — to say nothing of poverty in its most hideous shape, ivant, squalid misery, and the contempt of the world, contrasted with affluent plenty, a smiling family, and the esteem of all good men. Perhaps you cannot believe that there exists a being who would hesitate which of these two lots to choose. Alas! my son, vice puts on such alluring shapes, indolence is so seducing, that, (like the flies in -^sop,) we revel whilst the sun shines, and for a few hours' temporary pleasure pay the price of perishing miserably in the winter of our old age. The industrious ants are wiser. By a little forbearance at the moment, by setting a just value on the future, and disregarding present temptation, they secure an honourable and comfortable asylum. All nature, my son, is a volume, speaking comfort and offering instruction to the good and wise. But " the fool saitli in his heart. There is no God:" he shuts his eyes to the great book of Nature that lies open before him. Your fate, my dear Theodorick, is in your own hands. Like Hercules, every young man has his choice between ^^/ea^i^re, falsely so called, and infamy, or laborious virtue and a fair fame. In old age, indeed long before, we begin to feel the folly, or wisdom, of our selection. I confidently trust that you, my son, will choose wisely. In seven years from this time, you will repent, or rejoice, at the disposition which you make of the present hour. Ttour affectionate uncle,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

JOHN RA^OLPH. i9

P. S. We don't say " I only go there of post-days," but

on post-days.

LETTER V. Friday, March 21, 1806

My dear Theodore,

Your letter (the first that I have received for three posts) has relieved me from very great concern and uneasiness on your account. Your reason for failing to write, was altogether insufficient. Compare, I beseech you, my son, the trouble which it would give you to send me a few short lines, with my suspense and anxiety lest you should be ill, or some disastrous accident have befallen you, and I am sure you will confess, that the loss, or miscarriage, of one of your letters, or the trouble of composing it, is nothing in comparison. Send your next by the New Orleans mail, or write by the Genito post, and I shall receive an early answer to this. Attend, I beg of you, my son, to your books. In a short time, I hope to see you; but let not this expectation stop your pen.

Believe me, most truly,

your affectionate

kinsman and friend,

JOHN RANDOLPH, T. B. Dudley.

P. S. — I am sorry for the loss of Miniken's foal. How are the others? — and every thing, and every body.'' How and where is Dr. Robinson? and Mr. Dillon? and Mr. Johnston.

Letter VI

House of Representatives^ April 5, 1806. My dear Theodore,

Last night I was again denied the pleasure of hearing from you. I was not, indeed, without hopes that the New Orleans mail, which came in this morning, would bring me a letter from you, but in this expectation I have been disappointed. By this time I hope your cousins and sisters are at home, and your solitary, uncomfortable situation much changed for the better.

God bless you, my son. I hope soon to see you once more.

JOHN RANDOLPH.

LETTER VH.

Bizarre, Jnhj 20, 1806.

My dear Boys,

By this time, I trust, you have become familiarized, in some degree, to your new situation, and to its restraints; which, I hope, you will bear without murmuring, in the reflection that your present self-denial will essentially contribute to your future and permanent benefit. I have often regretted, since I parted from you, that it was not my good fortune, at your time of life, to be placed in a situation equally eligible with what I conceive yours to be. You have both, unless I am much deceived in you, a laudable ambition to become learned and respectable men. Whether such is to be your future character, respected and esteemed by all good men, or whether you shall become mere vulgar beings, whose only business is "frtrges consumere," will altogether depend upon your present exertions. You, my dear Theodore, are too much straitened for time, to lose a moment that can be profitably employed; and you, my dear Buona, although younger by five years, must not conceive that you have any to lose. Recollect that, two years ago, you could master Caesar, and that if you had continued to progress, instead of falling back, which, from ill health and the want of an instructer, you were compelled to do, you might now be a finished Latin scholar, and somewhat of a Grecian into the bargain. The man who thinks himself so rich that he can afibrd to neglect his afiairs and throw away his money, is not far from want, however great his estate may be. But time is, at once, the most valuable and most perishable of all our possessions; when lost it never can be retrieved.

I hope to hear from you both, very soon, and to learn what you are doing, and how you like your situation. Your mother, my dear Tudor, is not very well, but Sally is quite so. Tom and Archibald Harrison have been with us, ever since Friday evening. Beverley has not returned from Mr. Randolph's. Dr. Robinson has, at last, brought his lady home. We dined with them to-day.

Present me, very respectfully, to Dr. Haller. I write by candle-light, and the moths are swarming around my pen, and on the paper, so that you will have some diificulty, I fear, to make out my writing.

God bless you, my dear boys! I am your affectionate uncle and friend,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

P. S. — I was sorry to find, on coming home, that D'Anville had been left behind. Theodore should apprize Dr. Haller of his never having had the small-pox, and embrace the first opportunity of being vaccinated.

Letter VIII

Bizarre, Thursday night, July 24, 1806. Mv DEAR Theodore,

I AM very glad to find that you and Buona* are pleased with your situation, and that you have begun to learn French. At the same time, my son, if it is not incompatible with Dr. Haller's plan of instruction, I wish you both to resume your Latin. Present my respects to the Doctor, and communicate this circumstance to him.

The following errors in your letter, a little care and reflection would, I am persuaded, have led you to avoid. *' Have began" is not grammatical: began is the imperfect tense of the verb begin; have begun is the perfect. " None of us ever go in the street:" it should be i7ifo the street. The preposition " by," instead of the verb buy, to purchase. " Mellons," for radons. " I am dictated by the corrections, &c.," is not good English: it should be, lam .directed by, &c. There can be no excuse for false orthography: and what but inattention could have caused the errors I have noted, or occasioned Buona to spell watch, thus — ^^wacth?" God bless you both, my children. Your fond uncle,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

LETTER IX. Bizarre, Sept. 11, 1806

My DEAR Theodore,

I THANK you for your letter, which I received by the post before last. Present my respects to Dr. Haller, and

* The appellation by which he called his younger nephew. — D.

tell him that I will be obliged to him to procure you shirts, handkerchiefs, and such other things as you may stand in need of.

We do not say " scarcely nothing,^' but any thing. Give my love to Buona, and tell him that I shall forward his letter to his brother immediately ; but, tell him, also, that " a tolerable long letter " is intolerable English. , He should have used the adverb {tolerably) instead of the adjective. I wish that, instead of a fictitious correspondent, you would address your letters, I mean those which Dr. H. requires you to write, weekly, to some one of your friends,^ or acquaintance. It would take off from them the air of stiffness which now characterizes them. If Buona had been describing Richmond to his mother, or myself, he would never have introduced it with, " I beg leave to wait upon you;" an awkward exordium, which even Mr. Expectation, of Norfolk, would not approve. You see, my sons, that I make very free with your performances, but do not let this discourage you. Write your letters, just as you think them, and they will be easy; and any inaccuracy, which creeps in,. may be afterwards corrected.

The partridges are so forward, that we have begun to shoot nearly a month earlier than usual. Carlo is an excellent dog for bringing birds, after they are shot, but not so good for finding game. I wish you were with me, my sons,,- to enjoy the sport. Your skill, my dear Theodore, would make amends for my clumsiness, and dear Buona would hold Miniken, who now runs away from uncle whenever she has an opportunity. But, thank God, my children, you are more profitably engaged. This, alone, reconciles me to the loss of your society. I hope to see you both, about the last of this month.

Mother has had an ague, and Sally very sore fingers-. Your friend and kinsman,

JOHN RANDOLPH.

P. S. — Do not make a flourish under my name, on the superscription of your letters. It is not customary to do so.

I got a letter to-night from Mr. Bryan: he and my little god-son are well, but Mrs. B. has the fever.

My dear Buona, this is your birth-day; you are now entering on your twelfth year: may you see many happy returns of this anniversary. The success of my wish will materially depend, my child, on the use which you make of the present time.

LETTER X. Georgetown, Dec. 18, 1806

My dear Theodore,

I AM extremely glad that you and Buona are once more in a situation to prosecute your studies, which, I suppose, engross your whole time, since I do not hear from you as often as when I was at Bizarre, although you now have a daily conveyance for your letters. My dear Tudor has not written once to his uncle; nor have I received any letter from him, for his brother — to whom I wrote, by the Leonidas, soon after my arrival here. You would gratify me very much, my sons, by letting me hear from you two or three times a week, even if it were but a single line. M}'^ dear boys, I have no objection to your engaging in any manly and athletic exercise whatever; on the contrary, would encourage you to such innocent and invigorating sports. I have some books of amusement, as well as instruction, which I shall send you in a few days. God bless you both.

Your fond uncle,

JOHN RANDOLPH.