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speech that I ever made, was about the third or fourth, on the subject of the Connecticut Reserve, 1800. During the last four or five years, I have perceived a sensible decline in my powers-which I estimate with as much impartiality as you would; in a word, as if they had belonged to another. I am not better persuaded of the loss of my grinders, or of the wrinkles in my face-and care as much for the one as the other. Any other man but yourself (or perhaps Meade) would take this long paragraph as proof that I am insincere, or self-deceived. To tell you the truth, I am sensible of the gross injustice that has been done me in the paragraph in question. I had as lief be accused of any crime, not forbidden by the decalogue, as of imitation. If these critics choose to say that I have neglected, or thrown away, or buried my talent, I will acquiesce in the censure; but amongst the herd of imitators I will not be ranked, because I feel that I could

not descend to imitate any human being. But I have long ago

learned

Malignum spurnere vulgus.

Best wishes to Mrs. Key and the little ones. If Meade be with you, I salute him.

Francis Scott Key, Esq.

Yours, truly,

JOHN RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE.

I have been delighted with the Posthumus Works of Burkethe father of political wisdom-and have revelled in literary sweets: Horace in London; Rejected Adresses; Twopenny-post Bag; The Giaour, and the critique upon it in the Edinburgh Review. Many articles in that journal, and in the Quarterly, have amused and instructed me. I know you do not like the Scotch fraternity of critics; neither do I; but fas est ab hoste docere. What a picture of French society does the review of Grimm unfold! There are some deep reflections in that article, which I suppose comes from the pen of Dugald Stewart. It is eminently favorable to the cause of morality.

Our great folks at Cr. treat us little folks in Virginia very much as great folks are wont to treat little ones, viz., with sovereign neglect.

Randolph to Key.

RICHMOND, March 2, 1814.

DEAR SIR,-Your letter found me in bed, harassed and afflicted with gouty affection of the alimentary canal. It was, I believe, the best medicine that could have been administered to me, but, aided by an anniversary discourse, which Joe Lewis was considerate enough to send me, and which came also in the nick of time, the effect was wonderful. I am half disposed to be angry with you for passing

over the said discourse as if it never had existed, and especially for leaving me to the charity of Joe Lewis, but for whose contribution I might have been deprived of the pleasure of seeing it at all; for you need not flatter yourself that the newspapers generally will republish it. Now, by way of penance for this misplaced modesty, I do enjoin upon you to thank the aforesaid Joe in my name for his most obliging attention; one that has given me a pleasure that I shall not offend you in attempting to express.

You are right, my friend, but who will follow you? Who will abandon the expedient to adopt the counsels of self-denial, of mortification, of duty? For my part, much as I abhor the factious motive and manner of the opposition prints, and many of its leaders, if I could find as many men of my way of thinking as drubbed the French at Agincourt, I would throw off the yoke, or perish in the attempt.

Louisiana is not my country. I respect as much the opinions of the people of London as of the Western States. After these avowals you will not be glad" I fear "to see my nil admirari." My father left, for some reason of his own, this old family adage, and adopted fari quæ gentiat for his motto. But although I have returned to the old family maxim, I cannot shake off the habit which I acquired during thirty years' practice of speaking my mind sometimes. Nevertheless, I am persuaded that if we could all read your discourse, it would produce a most happy and beneficial effect on all ranks of the people. But the people will not hear, cannot read, and if they could, cannot understand, until the paroxysm of drunkenness is over. Wanting your faith I cannot repress my forebodings. They weigh me down and immerse body and soul. I never stood more in need of your society. In this world without souls every body is taken up with "the one thing needful"-what that is you must not consult St. Paul but the Jewish doctors, to discover.

I was struck with the review of Grimm, and with the hypothesis of the reviewer, on the tendency of a certain state of society to deaden the feelings, ossify the heart, and sharpen the sense of ridicule. Yes, in spite of its being French verse, I was pleased with the tribute of Voltaire to the power of that God, whom he never knew. I have been looking over the four first numbers of the Edinburgh Review, and was struck with the change of principle.

In answer to the foregoing letter Mr. Key writes:

"I have not yet seen the Giaour, but have looked over the Bride of Abydos. It has some fine passages in it, but it is too full of those crooked-named out-of-the-way East Indian things. I have long ago, however, resolved that there shall be no such poet as Wal

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ter Scott as long as he lives, and I can admire nobody that pretends to rival him.

"I should like to have the first numbers of the Edinburgh Review. I remember very well the great and shameful change of principle it has undergone. It is to be regretted that it is so popular a work in this country. How came the re-publishers by their recommendations of it? I see you are among them-with some good company, and some rather bad. Is it not desirable that there should be a good American Literary Review? One inculcating the sound principles of the quarterly reviewers, and exposing our book-makers, would perhaps improve both our taste and habits. Have you seen an article in Bronson's select reviews on American song-writing? I do not know who the author is, but I think he could conduct such a work with much spirit. I have seldom, I think, seen a better piece of criticism."

In reply, Randolph says:

"I do think a review on the plan you mention would be highly beneficial, and if I was fit for any thing I should like to engage in a work of the sort. But fourteen years of congressional life have rendered me good for nothing. It may be an excuse for idleness, for this devil attacks me in every shape. But it seems to me, to work any material change in the state of things, we must begin (as some logicians lay their premises) a great way off. I mean with the children; the old folks have taken their ply, and will neither bend nor break.

"How came the Edinburgh Review by my recommendation?' Because the re-publishers applied for it by letter; and when I gave it I had not gotten sight of the cloven foot; I had seen, however, some puerile abuse of myself in that journal; but this and much more would have been amply atoned for by very many masterly articles, if they had not betrayed a want of reverence for religion, and a hankering after France. Nevertheless, some of the late numbers in a great measure redeem their former sins. The truth is that men of diffrent principles, political as well as religious, write for that journal, and it may be always quoted against itself. There are some noble specimens of the art of criticism in the two last numbers that I have seen.

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"I cannot yield the precedence of Lord Byron to Walter Scott. I admit your objection to the crooked-named out-of-the-way Turkish things. But this must be pardoned in a traveller, who has explored the woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep, and swam across the Hellespont. No poet in our language (the exception is unnecessary), Shakspeare and Milton apart, has the same power over my feelings as Byron. He is, like Scott, careless, and indulges himself in great

license; but he does not, like your favorite, write by the piece. I am persuaded that his fragments are thrown out by the true spirit of inspiration, and that he never goads his pen to work. When you have read the Giaour, the first, I think, of his poems. I am persuaded that you will change your opinion of this singular author, and yet more singular man. His feelings are too strong to endure the privation of religious sentiment. His time is not yet come, but he cannot continue to exist in the chill and gloom of skepticism. "Meade is daily expected here. There is a general wish that he

should preach the first sermon in the Monumental Church.

"What an occasion for a man who would not sink under it! He might do a great deal of good were he to yield to the desire of the congregation, and establish himself amongst them; but where is the field in which he would not do good?

"I have not seen the article you mention in Bronson's Select Review. In its new form I think that a respectable and useful publication. To be sure, it is made of scissors; but it is so far beyond the Port-Folio as to be comparatively good. The last is the most contemptible thing that ever imposed on the public in the shape of a magazine-and that is going very far. When your letter and W-'s P. S. arrived, I was in all the horrors of what is vulgarly called Blue Devils; nor am I yet wholly recovered. I could not, however, resist the inclination to make my acknowledgments for your kindness."

Randolph to Key.

RICHMOND, May 7th, 1814.

MY DEAR FRIEND-Mr. Meade tells me that he expects to see you in a few days. I cannot let him depart without some token of my remembrance. He goes away early on Monday morning, so that, to guard against failure, I write to-day. He has made an engagement to preach in Hanover, thirty-five miles off, on Monday evening. No man can respect or admire his zeal in the sacred cause to which he has devoted himself, more than I do but I fear he will wear himself out, and that the sum of his usefulness will, on the whole, be diminished, unless he will consent to spare himself. His health and strength are evidently impaired since I saw him last. I fear for his breast. I must refer you to him for what occurs here, except the eagerness of all classes and ranks of people to hear him. No man can be more generally revered than he is.

As to the review, I am out of the question on that and every other subject requiring any species of exertion. I said truly when I told you that congressional life had destroyed me-fruges consumere this is all that I am fit for; and such is my infirmity of

body that I make a very poor hand even at that notwithstanding I am one of those who (as the French say) sum nè pour la digestion.

Since the hot weather set in, I have been in a state of collapse, and am as feeble as an infant-with all this I am tortured with rheumatism, or gout, a wretched cripple, and my mind is yet more weak and diseased than my body. I hardly know myself, so irresolute and timid have I become. In short, I hope that there is not another creature in the world as unhappy as myself. This I can say to you. To the world I endeavor to put on a different countenance, and hold a bolder language; but it is sheer hypocrisy, assumed to guard against the pity of mankind.

Mr. Meade will preach to-morrow in the new church. He is anxious on account of a silly piece, which that prince of coxcombs

has stuck into his paper. He has had no time for preparation on so useful a subject, and is uneasy that the public expectation has been led to it. Indeed who could treat it as it deserves? certainly no man whom I ever heard. Remember me kindly to Mrs. Key and all friends, amongst whom I must particularly mention West and Sterrett Ridgely.

Most sincerely yours,

JOHN RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE.

I left the letter open that I might say a word about my friend's discourse. He explained in a few satisfactory and appropriate words why he should not touch upon a subject which many of his hearers had been led to expect he would treat (the burning of the theatre on whose site the new church was erected), and then gave us a most excellent sermon on the pleasure of the true Christian's life. A prayer which he introduced into this discourse, that the heart, even if it were but one, of the unconverted might be touched, was most affecting. He preaches this afternoon at the Capitol, on the subject of the Bible Societies.

Sunday, 2 o'clock, P. M.

CHAPTER II.

ANCESTRAL PRIDE-ST. GEORGE-MADNESS.

JOHN RANDOLPH had a morbid sensibility on the subject of his family and his property. He belonged to one of the oldest, most numerous, and wealthy families in Virginia-he cherished his family pride, and

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