To say that I am obliged and flattered by the honor you do me, through the kind note
accompanying a copy of your [Sermon at the funeral of ][Dr. Parr](whoswho.html#ParrSamuel), would be a
cold expression of my feelings on receiving them this morning — my alacrity in
acknowledging the unlooked for favor, would be, if I had the pleasure of being known
to you better, an assurance of my warm, and I could almost say, my affectionate
respect on the occasion.
Shut up with my books at the back of my house in the midst of London, I scarcely
know, but from a daily newspaper, what passes within the world, and I was ignorant
that it had devolved on you to "bury Caesar"— I
speak so of him, whose
vast intellect commanded my admiration, and whose child-like simplicity so tempered
his greatness that I could say of him, whom most men feared, I know not whether I most
reverenced his greatness, or loved his gentleness. A hero it has been said, is no hero to his valet — but this is because the valet is
not also a hero. There were men about Dr. Parr to whom he seemed only a little higher
than themselves, because he descended to the meanness of their capacity, and who when
his mind soared to the source of light, imagined it lost in clouds — these were
babblers of anecdotes concerning him in his lifetime and will be tale-tellers of his
table-talk now — gossips of what they call his
"common" table-talk, who never talked commonly because he never talked ill. So, at
least, I infer he could not talk, who in the few
interviews I had the happiness to be indulged with, uttered wiser things than most can
bring forth in the course of their existence. I remember when I first saw Dr. Parr's
[one word] invitation to me to breakfast with him, I went from
[Warwick] to [Hatton] with delight and
trembling, and approached towards him with indescribable awe after I had been
announced by [his man Sam]. The Doctor rallied me on my
embarrassment and in five minutes I was astonished by finding myself as intimate with
him as if I had been known to him for years. He had the art, by being without art, of
making a man easy in his company immediately, and the four or five hours I spent at
[Hatton Parsonage] that morning
were the most delightful I ever enjoyed, save on my next visit, which the Doctor
insisted on my making to him the Sunday following at Dinner, when I had the felicity
of hearing his conversation till all the party left in the Evening, leaving me to
sleep there. After supper the Doctor challenged me to meet him as early as, he was
pleased to say, I should please in the morning. This we settled should be at six
o'clock. At that hour I left my room while the clock struck and descended to the
Library, where the Doctor awaited my arrival, gave me most cordial greeting, and then
telling me he had stayed the lighting of his pipe till I came, he sat down and said
"now to business." That morning interview, Sir, was
brought to my recollection (it never can be erased from my memory) by your Sermon and
especially by the 15th page. He lighted his pipe and said "Now, Hone, to business" — "In what way, Sir?" — withdrawing
his pipe and slapping his hand on my knee he answered by a solemn look (one of his looks) "You must answer me a question, & answer it
honestly and truly
— What is your creed?" It was an unexpected, &
irresistable requisition, and I answered your, & and allow me to add Sir, my
excellent friend, honestly truly & fully. He was the only man to whom I ever did,
or perhaps could disclose myself — and not a secret of my heart was hidden from
him. The remembrance of those three hours before [Mrs. Parr]
came down to breakfast brings tears to my eyes. Dr. Parr, Sir, was the noblest
hearted man I ever talked with, and the wisest I have
known, and wiser than any I can know — that is my conviction and belief. I loved
him more than any human being of whom I saw so little — his death was a blow
upon my heart.
Hone has filled up the writing
space on his sheet, and here he fills in the folded panels adjacent to the address.
[[return]](#a)The last time I saw him was at [Hatton] in the Autumn of 1823 where I spent
about three hours and nearly one third of the time was occupied by himself on the
subject of human decay and death. His mind then was vigorous as a giants limbs in full
manhood.
Pardon me Sir for having scribbled so much & to so little purpose, seeing that
your letter required I should briefly & respectfully acknowledge your remembrance
of me and let me add I account it a happy circumstance that what I thought an evil has
been a good to me. I mean that the accident that procured me the distinction of your
regard. I hope Sir I may cherish it, and that no act of
mine will ever occasion you to think of me otherwise than as, Sir,