University of Virginia Library

LETTER CXCI.

I have seldom, if ever, received a letter from you that
gratified me more than that of yesterday, which I had barely
time to acknowledge in two lines of postscript. Your
medical advice is very thankfully received, and will be followed,
(I shall first give the milk a fair trial,) so far as my
own experience does not run counter to it. Your reluctance
hitherto towards giving it, has more than once been noted
by me, and ascribed to its real cause. I have found, however,
a valuable counsellor in our kinsman, Dr. Hall, for such
he is; his great grandfather, on the mother's side, being Robert
Bolling, brother to Drury Bolling, my maternal great
grandfather, from whom you are removed one generation farther;

which Drury and Robert were sons of Robert B., (of
the West Riding of York, Bolling Hall, near Bradford,) by
his second wife, Miss Slith; (his first being the grand-daughter
of Pocahontas, by whom he had one son, John, from
whom, by his wife, Mary Kennon, my paternal grandmother
sprang.) From this first marriage, descend the Bollings of
Chesterfield and Buckingham, in the male line; and the
Curles Randolphs, Flemings, Gays, Eldridges, and Murrays,
in the female.

As I have recommended "Marriage" to you, (the book,
I mean,) this digression on genealogy, and, perhaps, some
other coincidences, may remind you of the "very sensible
Miss Jacky," and her agreeable sisters. You entirely mistake
my mode of life: I am very rarely out of bed at nine,
and when I exceed that hour, it is not at "evening parties."
I have been at several, but rarely failed to be at home before
nine. Last night I was seduced, by a book, to go beyond
that hour, a little. Do you suppose (requiring so much rest
as I do) that I could rise every morning before the dawn, if
I sat (or, as the V. P. says, "sot," most "unhappily,") up
late at night? The other day I dined at the French minister's.
It was Saturday; "Mrs. De N's. night." At half
past seven we joined the evening visiters, and at half past
eight I was snug in bed. To be sure, I was politely reproached,
as I was going away, by the Count de Menou, (secretary
of the legation,) whom I met on the staircase, and
since by his principal, for going away so early; but my plea
of weak health satisfied their jealousy. This is felt, and
shown, too, by all here, in the highest ranks of fashion. The
De N's., however, are good people. Madame is charity itself.
The poor will miss her when she goes away. One of
her sayings deserves to be written in letters of gold: "When
the rich are sick, they ought to be starved; but when the
poor are sick, they should be well fed." This is no bad medical
precept.

I cannot "go" the "Cogniac." I had rather die, than
drink, habitually, brandy and water. Look around you, and

see its ravages. Thank God, it does not possess any allurement
for me. I have sometimes been the better for a little
brandy toddy, but I have not tasted spirits for six weeks,[1] or
more; and never shall again, but as medicine. Genuine Madeira
is the only thing, except good water, that I can drink
with pleasure, or impunity: not always with the last; sometimes
with neither. It was the pearl ashes that I was advised
to use by Mr. Colden. It is, I believe, a refined potash. I
knew its caustic quality, which the salt of tartar also possesses
in a less degree. I substitute a weak solution of it
(salt of tartar) for the charcoal powder, in cleaning my teeth.
The pearl ashes I gave up at first trial.

Rely upon it, that to love a woman as "a mistress," although
a delicious delirium, an intoxication far surpassing
that of Champagne, is altogether unessential, nay, pernicious,
in the choice of a wife; which a man ought to set
about in his sober senses—choosing her, as Mrs. Primrose
did her wedding-gown, for qualities that "wear well." I
am well persuaded, that few love-matches are happy ones.
One thing, at least, is true, that if matrimony has its cares,
celibacy has no pleasures. A Newton, or a mere scholar,
may find employment in study: a man of literary taste can
receive in books a powerful auxiliary; but a man must have
a bosom friend, and children around him, to cherish and support
the dreariness of old age. Do you remember A. V.?
He could neither read nor think; any wife, even a scolding
one, would have been a blessing to that poor man. After all,
"suitability" is the true foundation for marriage. If the
parties be suited to one another, in age, situation in life, (a
man, indeed, may descend, where all else is fitting,) temper,
and constitution, these are the ingredients of a happy marriage—or,
at least, a convenient one—which is all that people
of experience expect. I will not quote Rochefoucault,
or S. Johnson, in support of this; and yet I cannot refrain

from referring you to five lines of the latter, which the author
has placed in the title page of "Marriage."

If my life were to go over again, I should make a very
different sort of thing of it, from what it is. Community of
tastes and pursuits, very often vicious ones, are the foundation
of most youthful friendships. I was most fortunate in
two—Rutledge and Bryan. As for Banister, he was as a
brother, from infancy; I could not go amiss in him. One
great mistake that young people commit, is associating with
persons of their own age, &c., but greatly above them in
point of fortune. One young man can, perhaps, afford to
spend a thousand dollars, where one hundred would embarrass
the finances of his companion. This last must sink into
a led captain, a boon companion, or sot; or, perhaps, commit
forgery, or breach of trust, to keep way with the rest.
Archer said to me last night, "When a young man conducts
himself so as to be forced to borrow from his companions,
his independence and self-respect are gone." It is true.

At last, a letter from Barksdale. It came with Johnson's,
about five minutes ago. He writes—"There is a
general movement in the neighbourhood: Everard Meade
goes to the Falls of the Black Warrior; Banister, after wavering
some time, between Norfolk and Winchester, has,
at length, decided in favour of Petersburg; and the Egglestons
and Archers, some to Kentucky and others to
Florida." He, too, is about to sell out, and remove. He
dates, the 1st of February. Mrs. R., of Obslo, is not now
despaired of. By this time, if not before, you must be heartily
tired. Roanoke begins to look alive. In a month, or
two, he may be fit to ride. When I "lent" him, he was
seal fat, and in the highest condition. The little mare, (in
like order,) had just been used up by the same person.