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Henry Fielding to the Hon. George Lyttleton.

Bow Street: August 29, 1749.

Sir,—Permit me to bring up the rear of your friends in paying my compliments of congratulation on your late happy nuptials. There may, perhaps, be seasons when the rear may be as honourable a post in friendship as in war; and if so, such certainly must be every time of joy and felicity. Your present situation must be full of bliss; and so will be, I am confident, your future life from the same fountain. Nothing can equal the excellent character your lady bears amongst those of her own sex, and I never yet knew them speak well of a woman who did not deserve their good words. How admirable is your fortune in the matrimonial lottery! I will venture to say there is no man alive who exults more in this, or in any other happiness that can attend you, than myself, and you ought to believe me from the same reason that fully persuades me of the satisfaction you receive from any happiness of mine; this reason is that you must be sensible how much of it I owe to your goodness; and there is a great pleasure in gratitude, though I believe it second to that of benevolence, for of all the delights upon earth, none can equal the raptures which a good mind feels in conferring happiness on those whom we think worthy of it. This is the sweetest ingredient in power, and I solemnly protest I never wished for power more than a few days ago, for the sake of a man whom I love, the more, perhaps from the esteem I know he bears you than any other reason. man is in love with a young creature of the most apparent worth who returns his affections. Nothing is wanting to make two very miserable people extremely blest, but a moderate portion of the greatest of human evils, so philosophers call it, and so it is called by divines, whose word is the rather to be taken as they are many of them more conversant with this evil than even the philosophers The name of this man is Moore, to whom you kindly destined the laurel, which, though it hath long been withered, may not probably soon drop from the brow of its present possessor. But there is another place of much the same value now vacant: it is that of deputy-licenser to the stage. Be not offended at this hint; for though I will own it impudent enough in one who hath

were.

This

so many obligations of his own to you to venture to recommend another man to your favour, yet impudence itself may possibly be a virtue when exerted on behalf of a friend: at least I am the less ashamed of it, as I have known men remarkable for the opposite modesty, possess it without the mixture of any other quality. In this fault then you must indulge me-for should I ever see you as high in power as I wish, and as it is perhaps more my interest than your own that you should be, I shall be guilty of the like as often as I find a man in whom I can, after much intimacy, discover no want but that of the evil above mentioned. I beg you will do me the honour of making my compliments to your unknown lady, and believe me to be, with the highest esteem, respect, and gratitude,

Sir, your most obliged

Most obedient, humble servant,
HENRY FIELDING.

CXLIV.

After a year's absence, William Pitt, gouty and infirm, returned to his seat in the House of Commons to shine in the most memorable debate of the eighteenth century on the American Stamp Act. When the result of the division was made known, the great Commoner was overwhelmed with applause, and Lord Stanhope writes: 'Every head was uncovered; and many persons in token of their respect and gratitude followed his chair home. On the other hand, hisses and revilings assailed, but did not daunt, the haughty and resolute Grenville.'

William Pitt to his Wife, Lady Chatham.

February 22, 1766 (past 4 o'clock). Happy, indeed, was the scene of this glorious morning (for at past one we divided), when the sun of liberty shone once more benignly upon a country, too long benighted. My dear love, not all the applauding joy which the hearts of animated gratitude, saved from despair and bankruptcy, uttered in the lobby, could touch me, in any degree, like the tender and lively delight, which breathes in your warm and affectionate note.

All together, my dearest life, makes me not ill to-day after the immense fatigue, or not feeling that I am so. Wonder not if I should find myself in a placid and sober fever, for tumultuous

exultation you know I think not permitted to feeble mortal successes; but my delight, heartfelt and solid as it is, must want its sweetest ingredient (if not its very essence) till I rejoice with my angel, and with her join in thanksgivings to protecting Heaven, for all our happy deliverances.

Thank you for the sight of Smith: his honest joy and affection charm me. Loves to the sweet babes, patriotic or not; though I hope impetuous William is not behind in feelings of that kind. Send the saddle-horses if you please, so as to be in town early tomorrow morning. I propose, and hope, to execute my journey to Hayes by eleven.

Your ever loving husband.

W. PITT.

CXLV.

'They form a grand group in my biographical picture,' remarks James Boswell of the three letters forwarded to him by Warren Hastings in the month of December, 1790-the only letters he had received from Dr. Samuel Johnson. The one here selected is the best of the trio; and in grace and finish it is scarcely inferior to any other of the epistles to be read in Boswell's volumes on the 'Life of Dr. Johnson.'

Dr. Samuel Johnson to the Hon. Warren Hastings.

March 30, 1774.

Sir,-Though I have had but little personal knowledge of you, I have had enough to make me wish for more; and though it be now a long time since I was honoured by your visit, I had too much pleasure from it to forget it. By those whom we delight to remember, we are unwilling to be forgotten; and therefore I cannot omit this opportunity of reviving myself in your memory by a letter which you will receive from the hands of my friend Mr. Chambers; a man, whose purity of manners and vigour of mind are sufficient to make everything welcome that he brings. That this is my only reason for writing, will be too apparent by the uselessness of my letter to any other purpose. I have no questions to ask; not that I want curiosity after either the ancient or present state of regions, in which have been seen all the power and splendour of wideextended empire; and which, as by some grant of natural superiority, supply the rest of the world with almost all that pride desires, and

luxury enjoys. But my knowledge of them is too scanty to furnish me with proper topicks of enquiry. I can only wish for information; and hope, that a mind comprehensive like yours will find leisure, amidst the cares of your important station, to enquire into many subjects of which the European world either thinks not at all, or thinks with deficient intelligence and uncertain conjecture. I shall hope, that he who once intended to increase the learning of his country by the introduction of the Persian language, will examine nicely the traditions and histories of the East; that he will survey the wonders of its ancient edifices, and trace the vestiges of its ruined cities and that, at his return, we shall know the arts and opinions of a race of men, from whom very little has been hitherto derived.

You, Sir, have no need of being told by me, how much may be added by your attention and patronage to experimental knowledge and natural history. There are arts of manufacture practised in the countries in which you preside, which are yet very imperfectly known here, either to artificers or philosophers. Of the natural productions, animate and inanimate, we yet have so little intelligence, that our books are filled, I fear, with conjectures about things which an Indian peasant knows by his senses.

Many of those things my first wish is to see; my second to know by such accounts as a man like you will be able to give.

As I have not skill to ask proper questions, I have likewise no such access to great men as can enable me to send you any political information. Of the agitations of an unsettled government, and the struggles of a feeble ministry, care is doubtless taken to give you more exact accounts than I can obtain. If you are inclined to interest yourself much in public transactions, it is no misfortune to you to be so distant from them. That literature is not totally forsaking us, and that your favourite language is not neglected, will appear from the book, which I should have pleased myself more with sending, if I could have presented it bound; but time was wanting. I beg, however, Sir, that you will accept it from a man very desirous of your regard; and that if you think me able to gratify you by anything more important, you will employ me.

I am now going to take leave, perhaps a very long leave, of my dear Mr. Chambers. That he is going to live where you govern, may justly alleviate the regret of parting; and the hope of seeing

both him and you again, which I am not willing to mingle with doubt, must at present, comfort as it can, Sir,

Your most humble servant

SAM JOHNSON.

CXLVI.

The proudest man of his generation, the Earl of Chesterfield, met with a most crushing rebuff at the hands of Dr. Johnson. The great Lexicographer was not a proud man; but what he defined as his defensive pride was capable of producing the most galling results.

Dr. Samuel Johnson to the Earl of Chesterfield

February, 1775.

My Lord, I have been lately informed by the proprietor of the World, that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your Lordship. To be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge.

When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre,—that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in publick, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a Patron before. The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks.

Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a

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