Baquaqua : Afro-Diasporic Text Corpus

Ignatius Sancho, Aug. 7, 1768

Lord ! what is Man ?— and what
business have such lazy, lousy,
paltry beings of a day to form friend-
ships, or to make connexions ? Man is
an absurd animal —yea, I will ever main-
tain it—in his vices, dreadful —in his
few virtues, silly —religious without
devotion —philosophy without wisdom —
the divine passion (as it is called) love
too oft without affection — and anger
without cause —friendship without rea-
son —hate without reflection —knowledge
(like Ashley’s punch in small quantities)
without judgement — and wit without dis-
cretion.— Look into old age, you will
see avarice joined to poverty —letchery,
gout, impotency, like three monkeys,
or London bucks, in a one-horse whisky,
driving to the Devil.— Deep politicians

with palsied heads and relaxed nerves—
zealous in the great cause of national
welfare and public virtue—but touch
not—oh ! touch not the pocket— friend-
ship —religion—love of country—excel-
lent topics for declamation !—but most
ridiculous chimera to suffer either in
money or ease—for, trust me, my
M——, I am resolved upon a reform.—
Truth, fair Truth, I give thee to the wind!
—Affection, get thee hence! Friendship,
be it the idol of such silly chaps, with
aching heads, strong passions, warm
hearts, and happy talents, as of old used
to visit Charles Street, and now abideth
in fair G—h House.

I give it under my hand and mark,
that the best recipe for your aching head
(if not the only thing which will relieve
you) is cutting off your hair — 1 know it
is not the ton ; but when ease and health
stand on the right— ornament and fashion
on the left—it is by no means the Ass
between two loads of hay —why not ask
counsel about it ? Even the young part
of the faculty were formerly obliged to

submit to amputation, in order to look
wise, —What they sacrificed to appear-
ances, do thou to necessity.—Absalom
had saved his life, but for his hair.
You will reply, ” Cæsar would have
been drowned, but his length of hair
afforded hold to the friendly hand that
drew him to shore.” Art, at this happy
time, imitates Nature so well in both
sexes, that in truth our own growth is
but of little consequence. Therefore,
my dear M—, part with your hair and
head-achs together; —and let us fee you
spruce, well shorn, easy, gay, debonnair
—as of old.

I have made enquiry after L—— ‘s
letter. My friend R—— went to de-
mand the reason for omitting to publish
it, and to reclaim the copy. The pub-
lisher smiled at him, and bid him examine
the M. C. of J. 13, where he would
find L. and the same paper of the 20th
instant, where he would also find P——
B——’s very angry answer. —Indeed the
poor fellow foams again, and appears as
indecently dull as malice could wish him.

I went to the coffee-house to examine
the file, and was greatly pleased upon
the second reading of your work, in
which is blended the Gentleman and the
Scholar, Now, observe, if you dare to
say I flatter, or mean to flatter, you
either impeach my judgement or honesty
—at your peril then be it.—For your
letter of yesterday, I could find in my
conscience not to thank you for it—
it gave a melancholy tint to every thing
about me. Pope had the head-ach vilely
—Spenser, I have heard, suffered much
from it — in short, it is the ail of
true geniuses. — They applied a thick
wreath of laurel round their brows — do
you the fame — and, putting the best
foot foremost — duly considering the
mansion—what it has suffered through
chance, time, and hard use—be thank
fully resigned, humble, and say,
” It is well it is no worse !”
I do not wish you to be any other
than nice in what new acquaintance you
make— as to friendship — it is a mistake
— real friendships are not hastily made

—friendship is a plant of slow growth, and,
like our English oak, spreads, is more
majestically beautiful, and increases in
shade, strength, and riches, as it increases
in years. I pity your poor head, for
this confounded scrawl of mine is enough
to give the head-ach to the strongest
brain in the kingdom — so remember I
quit the pen unwillingly, having not
said half what I meant ; but, impelled
by conscience, and a due consideration
of your ease, I conclude, just wishing
you as well as I do my dear self,

Yours, I. SANCHO.

Your cure, in four words, is

CUT — OFF— YOUR —HAIR !

______________________________________________________________

Sancho, Ignatius (1782) Letters of the Late Ignatius Sancho, An African. to which are prefixed, Memoirs of His Life. London : J. Nichols. pp. 8-12

Copy of original can be found at at:
https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=bc.ark%3A%2F13960%2Fs2k7fnrzrwp&seq=76
Genre: Epistolary
Language : English