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your Abbé; but I am out of all patience with the answer the Marquis made the Abbé 'twas truly coarse, and I wonder he bore it with any christian patience. But to the subject of your
letter I do not wish to know who was the busy fool who made your mother uneasy
about Mrs. 'tis true I have a friendship for her, but not to infatuation -I believe I have judgment enough to discern hers, and every woman's faults. I honour thy mother for her answer “that she wished not to be informed, and begged him to drop the subject.” Why do you say your mother wants money? whilst I have a shilling, shall you not both have nine-pence out of it? I think, if I have my enjoyments, I ought not to grudge you yours. I shall not begin my Sentimental Journey till I get to Coxwould I have laid a plan for something new quite out of the beaten track. I wish I had
had you with and I would introduce you to one of the most amiable and gentlest of beings, whom I have just been with not Mrs. but a Mrs. J., the wife of as worthy a man as I ever met with I esteem them both. He possesses every manly virtue honour and bravery are his characteristics, which have distinguished him nobly in several instances - I shall
make you be better acquainted with his character by sending Orme's History, with the books you desired
and it is well worth your reading; for Orme is an elegant writer, and a just one; he pays no man a compliment at the expense of truth. Mrs. J- is kind, and friendly of a sentimental turn of mind and so sweet a disposition, that she is too good for the world she lives in Just God! if all were like her, what a life would this be! - Heaven, my Lydia, for
I some wise purpose has created different beings wish iny dear child knew her -- thou art worthy of her friendship, and she already loves thee; for I sometimes tell her what I feel for thee. This is a long letter write soon
and never let your letters be studied ones write naturally
and then you will write well. I hope your mother has got quite well of
I have sent her some of Huxham's tinc. ture of the bark. I will order you a guitar, since the other is broke. Believe me, my Lydia, that I am yours affectionately,
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
London, Feb. 27, 1767. DEAR SIR, My daughter begs a present of me, and you must know I can deny her nothing – It must be strung with cat-gut, and of five chords, sic hiama in Italiano la chitera di cinque corde she cannot get such a thing at Marseilles at Paris one may have every thing Will you be so good to my girl as to make her happy in this affair, by getting some musical body to buy one, and send it to her at Avignon, directed to Monsieur Teste; I wrote last week to desire you would remit Mrs. S. a hundred louis 'twill be all, except the guitar, I shall owe you
send me your account, and I will pay Mr. Selwin direct to me at Mr. Becket's all kind respects to my friend Mr. F. and your sister. Yours cordially,
LXXXI.* TO ELIZA. **
The sermons came all hot from the heart: I wish that I could give them any title to be offered to yours. The others came from the head - I am more indifferent about their reception. I know not how it comes about, but I am half in valued (or saw more good qualities to value) or thought more of one of your sex than of you; so adieu. Yours faithfully,
love with you
I ought to be wholly so; for I never * This and the nine following Letters have no dates to them, but were evidently written in the months of March and April, 1767. They are therefore here placed together.
** The Editor of the first publication of Mr. Sterne's Letters to Eliza gives the following account of this lady: “Mrs. Elizabeth Draper, wife of Daniel Draper, Esq., counsellor at Bombay, and at present si. e. in 1775] Chief of the factory at Surat, a gentleman very much respected in that quarter of the globe. She is by birth an East-Indian; but the circumstance of being born in the country not proving sufficient to defend her delicate frame against the heats of that burning climate, she came to England for the recovery of her health, when by accident she became acquainted with Mr. Sterne. He immediately discovered in her a mind so congenial with his own, so enlightened, so refined, and so tender, that their mutual attraction presently joined them in the closest union that purity could possibly admit of: he loved her as his friend, and prided in her as his pupil: all her concerns became presently his; her health, her circumstances, her reputation, her children, were his; his fortune, his time, his country, were at her disposal, so far as the sacrifice of all or any of these might in his opinion contribute to her real happiness. If it is asked, whether the glowing heat of Mr. Sterne's affection never trans. ported him to a flight beyond the limits of pure Platonism, the publisher will not take upon him absolutely to deny ; but this he thinks, so far from leaving any stain upon that gentleman's memory, that it perhaps includes his fairest encomium; since to cherish the seeds of piety and chastity, in 8 heart which the passions are interested to corrupt, must be allowed to be the noblest effort of a soul fraught and fortified with the justest sentiments of religion and virtue,"
After reading these letters, the curiosity of the public will be naturally excited to inquire concerning the fate of the lady to whom they were addressed. To this question it will be sufficient to answer that she has been dead some years; and that it might give pain to many worthy persons if the circumstances which attended the latter part of her life was disclosed. as they are generally said to have reflected no credit either on her prudence or discretion.
if not affectionately,
LXXXII. TO THE SAME. I CANNOT rest, Eliza, though I shall call on you at half-past twelve, till I know how you do — May thy dear face smile, as thou risest, like the sun of this morning. I was much grieved to hear of your alarming indisposition yesterday; and disappointed, too, at not being let in. - Remember, my dear, that a friend has the same right as a physician. The etiquettes of this town (you'll say) say otherwise. – No matter!
. Delicacy and propriety do not always consist in observing their frigid doctrines.
I am going out to breakfast, but shall be at my lodgings by eleven; when I hope to read a single line under thy own hand, that thou art better, and wilt be glad to see thy Bramin.
LXXXIII. TO THE SAME. I got thy letter last night, Eliza, on my return from Lord Bathurst's, where I dined, and where I was heard (as I talked of thee an hour without intermission) with so much pleasure and attention that the good old Lord toasted your health three different times; and now he is in his eighty-fifth year, says he hopes to live long enough to be introduced as a friend to my fair Indian disciple, and to see her eclipse all other nabobesses as much in wealth, as she does already in exterior, and (what is far better) in interior, Sentimental Journey, etc.
merit. I hope so too. This nobleman is an old friend of mine. You know he was always the protector of men of wit and genius: and has had those of the last century, Addison, Steele, Pope, Swift, Prior, &c. &c. always at his table. The manner in which his potice began of me was as singular as it was polite. -He came up to me, one day, as I was at the Princess of Wales's court. "I want to know you, Mr. Sterne; but it is fit you should know, also, who it is that wishes this pleasure. You have heard (continued he) of an old Lord Bathurst, of whom your Popes and Swifts have sung and spoken so much. I have lived my life with geniuses of that cast; but have survived them; and, despairing ever to find their equals, it is some years since I have closed my accounts, and shut up my books, with thoughts of never opening them again; but you have kindled a desire in me of opening them once more before I die: which I now do; so go home and dine with me." This nobleman, I
is prodigy; for at eighty-five he has all the wit and promptness of a man of thirty. A disposition to be pleased, and a power to please others beyond whatever I knew: added to which, a man of learning, courtesy, and feeling.
He heard me talk of thee, Eliza, with uncommon satisfaction; --for there was only a third person, and of sensibility, with us. And a most sentimental afternoon, till nine o'clock, have we passed! But thou, Eliza, wert the star that conducted and enliven'd
my discourse. And when I talked not of thee, still didst thou fill my mind, and warmed every thought I uttered, for I am not ashamed to acknowledge, I greatly miss thee. Best of all good girls! the suffer