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Letters of John Randolph, to a young relative

embracing a series of years, from early youth, to mature manhood.
  
  
  

 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
LETTER L.
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
 LX. 
 LXI. 
 LXII. 
 LXIII. 
 LXIV. 
 LXV. 
 LXVI. 
 LXVII. 
 LXVIII. 
 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
 LXXIV. 
 LXXV. 
 LXXVI. 
 LXXVII. 
 LXXVIII. 
 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 LXXXI. 
 LXXXII. 
 LXXXIII. 
 LXXXIV. 
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
 LXXXVIII. 
 LXXXIX. 
 XC. 
 XCI. 
 XCII. 
 XCIII. 
 XCIV. 
 XCV. 
 XCVI. 
 XCVII. 
 XCVIII. 
 XCIX. 
 C. 
 CI. 
 CII. 
 CIII. 
 CIV. 
 CV. 
 CVI. 
 CVII. 
 CVIII. 
 CIX. 
 CX. 
 CXI. 
 CXII. 
 CXIII. 
 CXIV. 
 CXV. 
 CXVI. 
 CXVII. 
 CXVIII. 
 CXIX. 
 CXX. 
 CXXI. 
 CXXII. 
 CXXIII. 
 CXXIV. 
 CXXV. 
 CXXVI. 
 CXXVII. 
 CXXVIII. 
 CXXIX. 
 CXXX. 
 CXXXI. 
 CXXXII. 
 CXXXIII. 
 CXXXIV. 
 CXXXV. 
 CXXXVI. 
 CXXXVII. 
 CXXXVIII. 
 CXXXIX. 
 CXL. 
 CXLI. 
 CXLII. 
 CXLIII. 
 CXLIV. 
 CXLV. 
 CXLVI. 
 CXLVII. 
 CXLVIII. 
 CXLIX. 
 CL. 
 CLI. 
 CLII. 
 CLIII. 
 CLIV. 
 CLV. 
 CLVI. 
 CLVII. 
 CLVIII. 
 CLIX. 
 CLX. 
 CLXI. 
 CLXII. 
 CLXIII. 
 CLXIV. 
 CLXV. 
 CLXVI. 
 CLXVII. 
 CLXVIII. 
 CLXIX. 
 CLXX. 
 CLXXI. 
 CLXXII. 
 CLXXIII. 
 CLXXIV. 
 CLXXV. 
 CLXXVI. 
 CLXXVII. 
 CLXXVIII. 
 CLXXIX. 
 CLXXX. 
 CLXXXI. 
 CLXXXII. 
 CLXXXIII. 
 CLXXXIV. 
 CLXXXV. 
 CLXXXVI. 
 CLXXXVII. 
 CLXXXVIII. 
 CLXXXIX. 
 CXC. 
 CXCI. 
 CXCII. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

76

Page 76

LETTER L.

My dear Theodore,

Your letter of the 6th, arrived while I was at Bizarre,
which place I left yesterday morning. Your cousin, however,
received one from you by the same post, by which I was
assured of your being well. I am sorry, my son, that any
passage, in my letter to you, should have given you uneasiness.
I look not for professions from you. You have never given
into them, and I have always respected you the more for it.
For, as Sir Peter Teazle says, "damn sentiment." I have
been made the victim of it. But I owe it to you, and to myself,
to explain the cause which led to the expression, by which
you felt yourself hurt, and which, therefore, I regret to have
used.

My situation has been, for some time past, (as you know,)
a peculiar one. The persons (yourself excepted) from whom
I had deserved most highly; to whom I had dedicated the
best years of my life, had withdrawn their confidence from
me. To one of these I had devoted the prime of my manhood;
another, (I blush to tell it!) I loved better than my own
soul, or Him who created it! What I merited from the third,
I will not say. Two of them had descended to speak injuriously,
and even falsely, (as it respected one of those two,) concerning
me. My heart was wounded to the very core.
Those persons have since confessed that they were under the
influence of paltry irritations, and that, in their dispassionate
moments, they never felt or expressed a thought that was injurious
to me. An instance, however, of disingenuousness
and want of confidence, the most inexcusable, had lately occurred
in one of them, or, rather, the knowledge of it occurred
to me, for the matter was of some years' standing. At
this juncture, I received your scanty and meagre letter from
Richmond. I attributed its form to the pressure of time, until


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I learned, the day following, that you had written more
fully to another. I know that you are under some obligations
to that person, (not that they are not reciprocal, for you have
made ample returns,) and I applaud your independence in
showing it, as well as the sentiment which makes you feel it.
But, nevertheless, I was hurt. I know that the only way to
deserve the confidence of another, is to give our own; although
that does not always obtain it. It was because I had given
you mine, and upon no other score that I felt I had a right to
challenge yours. To you I had had no reserve, and I looked
not merely for the disclosure of any matter of consequence,
in case you had any such to impart, but for a frank communication
of your opinions and feelings generally. I knew that
young persons sometimes distrusted old ones, and I feared it
might be your case towards me. I felt unhappy, and, perhaps,
was unreasonable. I need say no more on this subject.

I hope you will make all your notes of lectures, &c., in
blank books, and keep a separate one for observations, such as
occur to you. I advise a journal. "One word written on
the spot," (as when you go to see any thing worthy of curiosity,
or make remarks upon the city) is worth a volume of recollections."
I recommend you to the Genius of Hippocrates,
(not "Hypecrates,") and earnestly recommend an attention to
Dr. Physick's course. Do not fail to supply yourself with a
good collection of medical books. Spare not on account of
expense: to these, by next winter, you can add surgical instruments,
electrical machine, &c. I should be vexed if you
suffered false economy to interfere in a case like this. Let
your dress, also, without being foolishly expensive, be that of
a gentleman. I need not tell you who lived at Bizarre to be
neat. If your teeth require it, have them cleaned and
plugged by a dentist. It is an operation that, I think, ought
to be performed (cleaning) once or twice a year.

I hope you will learn to fence, and to dance, also; and I am
very anxious that you should speak French, and read Italian,
Spanish, and German: "As many languages as a man knows,


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so many times is he a man." If you wish it, I will send you
Dufief.

Where do you lodge? Have you made any acquaintances
yet? It may be worth while to attend to the police of the
city, the watch, jail, water-works, market, scavengers, &c.
I would see a ship launch when practicable. The hospitals,
of course, you will be acquainted with: that of Pennsylvania
is an honour to the state.

I am obliged to conclude.

Yours, in haste,
JOHN RANDOLPH.
Tudor desires to be remembered to you. Your sister was
well yesterday; so were your cousin and St. George.