Chapter XIX: Letter XVIII: To Mr. S

Charles Street, Nov. 26, 1774.

YOUNG says, “A friend is the balsam of life”--Shakespear says,--but why should I pester you with quotations?--to shew you the depth of my erudition, and strut like the fabled bird in his borrowed plumage. In good honest truth, my friend--I rejoice to see thy name at the bottom of the instructive page--and were fancy and invention as much my familiar friends as they are thine--I would write thee an answer--or try, at least, as agreeably easy--and as politely simple.--Mark that; simplicity is the characteristic of good writing--which I have learnt, among many other good things, of your Honor--and for which I am proud to thank you;--in short I would write like you--think like you (of course); and do like you; but, as that is impossible, I must content myself with my old trick;--now what that trick is--thou art ignorant--and so thou shalt remain--till I congratulate you upon your recovery.--_A propos_, you began your letter ill, as we do many things in common life;--ten days elapsed before you finished it--consequently you finished it well.--My dear friend, may you, thro’ God’s blessing, ever finish happily what you undertake--however unpromising the beginning may appear to be!--I want you much in town--for my one sake--that’s a stroke of self-love.--And do you mean to bring any candles up with you?--that’s another!--I do not wonder at your making your way amongst the folks of Hull--although there are four of the same profession;--we love variety.--I will give them credit for admiring the Artist;--but if they--that is two or three of them--have penetration to look deeper--and love the Man--then I shall believe that there are souls in Hull.--So--my cramp epistle fell into the hands of thy good and reverend farther--_tant pis_--why, he must think me blacker than I am.--Mons. B---- goes on well:--I suppose you know he has opened an Academy in St. Alban’s Street--at two guineas a year--naked figures three nights a week--Mr. Mortimer and several eminent names upon his list--and room left for yours--he hops about with that festivity of countenance which denotes peace and good-will to man.--I have added to my felicity--or Fortune more properly has--three worthy friends--they are admirers and friends of Mortimer and Sterne;--but of this when we meet.--You are expected at B---- House upon your return--and I hope you will call on them, if consistent with your time--and agreeable to you.--My friend L---- is in town, and intends trying his fortune among us--as teacher of murder and neck-breaking--alias--fencing and riding.--The Tartars, I believe, have few fine gentlemen among them--and they can ride--though they have neither fencing nor riding masters;--and as to genteel murder--we are mere pedlars and novices--for they can dispatch a whole caravan--or a hoorde--and eat and drink--wench and laugh--and, in truth, so far they can match our modern fine gents.;--they have no acquaintance with conscience--but what’s all this to you?--nothing--it helps to fill up the sheet--and looks like moralizing;--the good-natured partiality of thy honest heart will deem it--not absolutely nonsense.--Alas!--thus it often happens--that the judgement of a good head is--bum-fiddled--and wrong-biass’d by the weakness of a too kind heart;--under that same weakness let me shelter my failings and absurdities--and let me boast at this present writing--that my heart is not very depraved--and has this proof of not being dead to virtue;--it beats stronger at the sound of friendship--and will be sincerely attached to W---- S----, Esq; while its pulsations continue to throb in the brest of your obliged

IGNATIUS SANCHO.

Do pray think about returning--the captain--the girls--the house--the court, stand all--just where they did--when you left them.--Alas! Time leaves the marks of his rough fingers upon all things--Time shrivels female faces--and sours small-beer--gives insignificance, if not impotency, to trunk-hose--and toughness to cow-beef.--Alas! alas! alas!--