Letters to His Son, 1749

T >> The Earl of Chesterfield >> Letters to His Son, 1749


You will stay at Venice as long as the Carnival lasts; for though I am
impatient to have you at Turin, yet I would wish you to see thoroughly
all that is to be seen at so singular a place as Venice, and at so
showish a time as the Carnival. You will take also particular care to
view all those meetings of the government, which strangers are allowed to
see; as the Assembly of the Senate, etc., and also to inform yourself of
that peculiar and intricate form of government. There are books which
give an account of it, among which the best is Amelot de la Houssaye,
which I would advise you to read previously; it will not only give you a
general notion of that constitution, but also furnish you with materials
for proper questions and oral informations upon the place, which are
always the best. There are likewise many very valuable remains, in
sculpture and paintings, of the best masters, which deserve your
attention.

I suppose you will be at Vienna as soon as this letter will get thither;
and I suppose, too, that I must not direct above one more to you there.
After which, my next shall be directed to you at Venice, the only place
where a letter will be likely to find you, till you are at Turin; but you
may, and I desire that you will write to me, from the several places in
your way, from whence the post goes.

I will send you some other letters for Venice, to Vienna, or to your
banker at Venice, to whom you will, upon your arrival there, send for
them: For I will take care to have you so recommended from place to
place, that you shall not run through them, as most of your countrymen
do, without the advantage of seeing and knowing what best deserves to be
seen and known; I mean the men and the manners.

God bless you, and make you answer my wishes: I will now say, my hopes!
Adieu.




LETTER LXVI

DEAR BOY: I direct this letter to your banker at Venice, the surest place
for you to meet with it, though I suppose that it will be there some time
before you; for, as your intermediate stay anywhere else will be short,
and as the post from hence, in this season of easterly winds is
uncertain, I direct no more letters to Vienna; where I hope both you and
Mr. Harte will have received the two letters which I sent you
respectively; with a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, at
Venice, which was inclosed in mine to you. I will suppose too, that the
inland post on your side of the water has not done you justice; for I
received but one single letter from you, and one from Mr. Harte, during
your whole stay at Berlin; from whence I hoped for, and expected very
particular accounts.

I persuade myself, that the time you stay at Venice will be properly
employed, in seeing all that is to be seen in that extraordinary place:
and in conversing with people who can inform you, not of the raree-shows
of the town, but of the constitution of the government; for which purpose
I send you the inclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Grey,
the King's Resident at Venice, but who is now in England. These, with
mine to Monsieur Capello, will carry you, if you will go, into all the
best company at Venice.

But the important point; and the important place, is Turin; for there I
propose your staying a considerable time, to pursue your studies, learn
your exercises, and form your manners. I own, I am not without my anxiety
for the consequence of your stay there, which must be either very good or
very bad. To you it will be entirely a new scene. Wherever you have
hitherto been, you have conversed, chiefly, with people wiser and
discreeter than yourself; and have been equally out of the way of bad
advice or bad example; but in the Academy at Turin you will probably meet
with both, considering the variety of young fellows about your own age;
among whom it is to be expected that some will be dissipated and idle,
others vicious and profligate. I will believe, till the contrary appears,
that you have sagacity enough to distinguish the good from the bad
characters; and both sense and virtue enough to shun the latter, and
connect yourself with the former: but however, for greater security, and
for your sake alone, I must acquaint you that I have sent positive orders
to Mr. Harte to carry you off, instantly, to a place which I have named
to him, upon the very first symptom which he shall discover in you, of
drinking, gaming, idleness, or disobedience to his orders; so that,
whether Mr. Harte informs me or not of the particulars, I shall be able
to judge of your conduct in general by the time of your stay at Turin. If
it is short, I shall know why; and I promise you, that you shall soon
find that I do; but if Mr. Harte lets you continue there, as long as I
propose that you should, I shall then be convinced that you make the
proper use of your time; which is the only thing I have to ask of you.
One year is the most that I propose you should stay at Turin; and that
year, if you employ it well, perfects you. One year more of your late
application, with Mr. Harte, will complete your classical studies. You
will be likewise master of your exercises in that time; and will have
formed yourself so well at that court, as to be fit to appear
advantageously at any other. These will be the happy effects of your
year's stay at Turin, if you behave, and apply yourself there as you have
done at Leipsig; but if either ill advice, or ill example, affect and
seduce you, you are ruined forever. I look upon that year as your
decisive year of probation; go through it well, and you will be all
accomplished, and fixed in my tenderest affection forever; but should the
contagion of vice of idleness lay hold of you there, your character, your
fortune, my hopes, and consequently my favor are all blasted, and you are
undone. The more I love you now, from the good opinion I have of you, the
greater will be my indignation if I should have reason to change it.
Hitherto you have had every possible proof of my affection, because you
have deserved it; but when you cease to deserve it, you may expect every
possible mark of my resentment. To leave nothing doubtful upon this
important point I will tell you fairly, beforehand, by what rule I shall
judge of your conduct--by Mr. Harte's accounts. He will not I am sure,
nay, I will say more, he cannot be in the wrong with regard to you. He
can have no other view but your good; and you will, I am sure, allow that
he must be a better judge of it than you can possibly be at your age.
While he is satisfied, I shall be so too; but whenever he is dissatisfied
with you, I shall be much more so. If he complains, you must be guilty;
and I shall not have the least regard for anything that you may allege in
your own defense.

I will now tell you what I expect and insist upon from you at Turin:
First, that you pursue your classical and other studies every morning
with Mr. Harte, as long and in whatever manner Mr. Harte shall be pleased
to require; secondly, that you learn, uninterruptedly, your exercises of
riding, dancing, and fencing; thirdly, that you make yourself master of
the Italian language; and lastly, that you pass your evenings in the best
company. I also require a strict conformity to the hours and rules of the
Academy. If you will but finish your year in this manner at Turin, I have
nothing further to ask of you; and I will give you everything that you
can ask of me. You shall after that be entirely your own master; I shall
think you safe; shall lay aside all authority over you, and friendship
shall be our mutual and only tie. Weigh this, I beg of you, deliberately
in your own mind; and consider whether the application and the degree of
restraint which I require but for one year more, will not be amply repaid
by all the advantages, and the perfect liberty, which you will receive at
the end of it. Your own good sense will, I am sure, not allow you to
hesitate one moment in your choice. God bless you! Adieu.

P. S. Sir James Grey's letters not being yet sent to me, as I thought
they would, I shall inclose them in my next, which I believe will get to
Venice as soon as you.




LETTER LXVII

LONDON, April 12, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: I received, by the last mail, a letter from Mr. Harte, dated
Prague, April the 1st, N. S., for which I desire you will return him my
thanks, and assure him that I extremely approve of what he has done, and
proposes eventually to do, in your way to Turin. Who would have thought
you were old enough to have been so well acquainted with the heroes of
the 'Bellum Tricennale', as to be looking out for their great-grandsons
in Bohemia, with that affection with which, I am informed, you seek for
the Wallsteins, the Kinskis, etc. As I cannot ascribe it to your age, I
must to your consummate knowledge of history, that makes every country,
and every century, as it were, your own. Seriously, I am told, that you
are both very strong and very correct in history; of which I am extremely
glad. This is useful knowledge.

Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris are arrived here: the former gave me a
letter from Sir Charles Williams, the latter brought me your orders. They
are very pretty men, and have both knowledge and manners; which, though
they always ought, seldom go together. I examined them, particularly
Comte Lascaris, concerning you; their report is a very favorable one,
especially on the side of knowledge; the quickness of conception which
they allow you I can easily credit; but the attention which they add to
it pleases me the more, as I own I expected it less. Go on in the pursuit
and the increase of knowledge; nay, I am sure you will, for you now know
too much to stop; and, if Mr. Harte would let you be idle, I am convinced
you would not. But now that you have left Leipsig, and are entered into
the great world, remember there is another object that must keep pace
with, and accompany knowledge; I mean manners, politeness, and the
Graces; in which Sir Charles Williams, though very much your friend, owns
that you are very deficient. The manners of Leipsig must be shook off;
and in that respect you must put on the new man. No scrambling at your
meals, as at a German ordinary; no awkward overturns of glasses, plates,
and salt-cellars; no horse play. On the contrary, a gentleness of
manners, a graceful carriage, and an insinuating address, must take their
place. I repeat, and shall never cease repeating to you, THE GRACES, THE
GRACES.

I desire that as soon as ever you get to Turin you will apply yourself
diligently to the Italian language; that before you leave that place, you
may know it well enough to be able to speak tolerably when you get to
Rome; where you will soon make yourself perfectly master of Italian, from
the daily necessity you will be under of speaking it. In the mean time, I
insist upon your not neglecting, much less forgetting, the German you
already know; which you may not only continue but improve, by speaking it
constantly to your Saxon boy, and as often as you can to the several
Germans you will meet in your travels. You remember, no doubt, that you
must never write to me from Turin, but in the German language and
character.

I send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith the King's
Consul at Venice; who can, and I daresay will, be more useful to you
there than anybody. Pray make your court, and behave your best, to
Monsieur and Madame Capello, who will be of great use to you at Rome.
Adieu! Yours tenderly.




LETTER LXVIII

LONDON, April 19, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: This letter will, I believe, still find you at Venice in all
the dissipation of masquerades, ridottos, operas, etc. With all my heart;
they are decent evening's amusements, and very properly succeed that
serious application to which I am sure you devote your mornings. There
are liberal and illiberal pleasures as well as liberal and illiberal
arts: There are some pleasures that degrade a gentleman as much as some
trades could do. Sottish drinking, indiscriminate gluttony, driving
coaches, rustic sports, such as fox-chases, horse-races, etc., are in my
opinion infinitely below the honest and industrious profession of a
tailor and a shoemaker, which are said to 'deroger'.

As you are now in a musical country, where singing, fiddling, and piping,
are not only the common topics of conversation, but almost the principal
objects of attention, I cannot help cautioning you against giving in to
those (I will call them illiberal) pleasures (though music is commonly
reckoned one of the liberal arts) to the degree that most of your
countrymen do, when they travel in Italy. If you love music, hear it; go
to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I insist upon
your neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very
frivolous, contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of bad
company; and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better
employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing a
part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your
mouth.

I have had a great deal of conversation with Comte du Perron and Comte
Lascaris upon your subject: and I will tell you, very truly, what Comte
du Perron (who is, in my opinion, a very pretty man) said of you: 'Il a
de l'esprit, un savoir peu commun a son age, une grande vivacite, et
quand il aura pris des manieres il sera parfait; car il faut avouer qu'il
sent encore le college; mars cela viendra'. I was very glad to hear, from
one whom I think so good a judge, that you wanted nothing but 'des
manieres', which I am convinced you will now soon acquire, in the company
which henceforward you are likely to keep. But I must add, too, that if
you should not acquire them, all the rest will be of little use to you.
By 'manieres', I do not mean bare common civility; everybody must have
that who would not be kicked out of company; but I mean engaging,
insinuating, shining manners; distinguished politeness, an almost
irresistible address; a superior gracefulness in all you say and do. It
is this alone that can give all your other talents their full lustre and
value; and, consequently, it is this which should now be thy principal
object of your attention. Observe minutely, wherever you go, the allowed
and established models of good-breeding, and form yourself upon them.
Whatever pleases you most in others, will infallibly please others in
you. I have often repeated this to you; now is your time of putting it in
practice.

Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him I have received his
letter from Vienna of the 16th N. S., but that I shall not trouble him
with an answer to it till I have received the other letter which he
promises me, upon the subject of one of my last. I long to hear from him
after your settlement at Turin: the months that you are to pass there
will be very decisive ones for you. The exercises of the Academy, and the
manners of courts must be attended to and acquired; and, at the same
time, your other studies continued. I am sure you will not pass, nor
desire, one single idle hour there: for I do not foresee that you can, in
any part of your life, put out six months to greater interest, than those
next six at Turin.

We will talk hereafter about your stay at Rome and in other parts of
Italy. This only I will now recommend to you; which is, to extract the
spirit of every place you go to. In those places which are only
distinguished by classical fame, and valuable remains of antiquity, have
your classics in your hand and in your head; compare the ancient
geography and descriptions with the modern, and never fail to take notes.
Rome will furnish you with business enough of that sort; but then it
furnishes you with many other objects well deserving your attention, such
as deep ecclesiastical craft and policy. Adieu.




LETTER LXIX

LONDON, April 27, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: I have received your letter from Vienna, of the 19th N. S.,
which gives me great uneasiness upon Mr. Harte's account. You and I have
reason to interest ourselves very particularly in everything that relates
to him. I am glad, however, that no bone is broken or dislocated; which
being the case, I hope he will have been able to pursue his journey to
Venice. In that supposition I direct this letter to you at Turin; where
it will either find, or at least not wait very long for you, as I
calculate that you will be there by the end of next month, N. S. I hope
you reflect how much you have to do there, and that you are determined to
employ every moment of your time accordingly. You have your classical and
severer studies to continue with Mr. Harte; you have your exercises to
learn; the turn and manners of a court to acquire; reserving always some
time for the decent amusements and pleasures of a gentleman. You see I am
never against pleasures; I loved them myself when I was of your age, and
it is as reasonable that you should love them now. But I insist upon it
that pleasures are very combinable with both business and studies, and
have a much better relish from the mixture. The man who cannot join
business and pleasure is either a formal coxcomb in the one, or a sensual
beast in the other. Your evenings I therefore allot for company,
assemblies, balls, and such sort of amusements, as I look upon those to
be the best schools for the manners of a gentleman; which nothing can
give but use, observation, and experience. You have, besides, Italian to
learn, to which I desire you will diligently apply; for though French is,
I believe, the language of the court at Turin, yet Italian will be very
necessary for you at Rome, and in other parts of Italy; and if you are
well grounded in it while you are at Turin (as you easily may, for it is
a very easy language), your subsequent stay at Rome will make you perfect
in it. I would also have you acquire a general notion of fortification; I
mean so far as not to be ignorant of the terms, which you will often hear
mentioned in company, such as ravelin, bastion; glacis, contrescarpe,
etc. In order to this, I do not propose that you should make a study of
fortification, as if you were to be an engineer, but a very easy way of
knowing as much as you need know of them, will be to visit often the
fortifications of Turin, in company with some old officer or engineer,
who will show and explain to you the several works themselves; by which
means you will get a clearer notion of them than if you were to see them
only upon paper for seven years together. Go to originals whenever you
can, and trust to copies and descriptions as little as possible. At your
idle hours, while you are at Turin, pray read the history of the House of
Savoy, which has produced a great many very great men. The late king,
Victor Amedee, was undoubtedly one, and the present king is, in my
opinion, another. In general, I believe that little princes are more
likely to be great men than those whose more extensive dominions and
superior strength flatter them with a security, which commonly produces
negligence and indolence. A little prince, in the neighborhood of great
ones, must be alert and look out sharp, if he would secure his own
dominions: much more still if he would enlarge them. He must watch for
conjunctures or endeavor to make them. No princes have ever possessed
this art better than those of the House of Savoy; who have enlarged their
dominions prodigiously within a century by profiting of conjunctures.

I send you here inclosed a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a warm
friend of yours: I desire that you will answer it very soon and
cordially, and remember to make your compliments in it to Comte du
Perron. A young man should never be wanting in those attentions; they
cost little and bring in a great deal, by getting you people's good word
and affection. They gain the heart, to which I have always advised you to
apply yourself particularly; it guides ten thousand for one that, reason
influences.

I cannot end this letter or (I believe) any other, without repeating my
recommendation of THE GRACES. They are to be met with at Turin: for God's
sake, sacrifice to them, and they will be propitious. People mistake
grossly, to imagine that the least awkwardness, either in matter or
manner, mind or body, is an indifferent thing and not worthy of
attention. It may possibly be a weakness in me, but in short we are all
so made: I confess to you fairly, that when you shall come home and that
I first see you, if I find you ungraceful in your address, and awkward in
your person and dress, it will be impossible for me to love you half so
well as I should otherwise do, let your intrinsic merit and knowledge be
ever so great. If that would be your case with me, as it really would,
judge how much worse it might be with others, who have not the same
affection and partiality for you, and to whose hearts you must make your
own way.

Remember to write to me constantly while you are in Italy, in the German
language and character, till you can write to me in Italian; which will
not be till you have been some time at Rome.

Adieu, my dear boy: may you turn out what Mr. Harte and I wish you. I
must add that if you do not, it will be both your own fault and your own
misfortune.




LETTER LXX

LONDON, May 15, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: This letter will, I hope, find you settled to your serious
studies, and your necessary exercises at Turin, after the hurry and the
dissipation of the Carnival at Venice. I mean that your stay at Turin
should, and I flatter myself that it will, be an useful and ornamental
period of your education; but at the same time I must tell you, that all
my affection for you has never yet given me so much anxiety, as that
which I now feel. While you are in danger, I shall be in fear; and you
are in danger at Turin. Mr. Harte will by his care arm you as well as he
can against it; but your own good sense and resolution can alone make you
invulnerable. I am informed, there are now many English at the Academy at
Turin; and I fear those are just so many dangers for you to encounter.
Who they are, I do not know; but I well know the general ill conduct, the
indecent behavior, and the illiberal views, of my young countrymen.
abroad; especially wherever they are in numbers together. Ill example is
of itself dangerous enough; but those who give it seldom stop there; they
add their infamous exhortations and invitations; and, if they fail, they
have recourse to ridicule, which is harder for one of your age and
inexperience to withstand than either of the former. Be upon your guard,
therefore, against these batteries, which will all be played upon you.
You are not sent abroad to converse with your own countrymen: among them,
in general, you will get, little knowledge, no languages, and, I am sure,
no manners. I desire that you will form no connections, nor (what they
impudently call) friendships with these people; which are, in truth, only
combinations and conspiracies against good morals and good manners. There
is commonly, in young people, a facility that makes them unwilling to
refuse anything that is asked of them; a 'mauvaise honte' that makes them
ashamed to refuse; and, at the same time, an ambition of pleasing and
shining in the company they keep: these several causes produce the best
effect in good company, but the very worst in bad. If people had no vices
but their own, few would have so many as they have. For my own part, I
would sooner wear other people's clothes than their vices; and they would
sit upon me just as well. I hope you will have none; but if ever you
have, I beg, at least, they may be all your own. Vices of adoption are,
of all others, the most disgraceful and unpardonable. There are degrees
in vices, as well as in virtues; and I must do my countrymen the justice
to say, that they generally take their vices in the lower degree. Their
gallantry is the infamous mean debauchery of stews, justly attended and
rewarded by the loss of their health, as well as their character. Their
pleasures of the table end in beastly drunkenness, low riot, broken
windows, and very often (as they well deserve), broken bones. They game
for the sake of the vice, not of the amusement; and therefore carry it to
excess; undo, or are undone by their companions. By such conduct, and in
such company abroad, they come home, the unimproved, illiberal, and
ungentlemanlike creatures that one daily sees them, that is, in the park
and in the streets, for one never meets them in good company; where they
have neither manners to present themselves, nor merit to be received.
But, with the manners of footmen and grooms, they assume their dress too;
for you must have observed them in the streets here, in dirty blue
frocks, with oaken sticks in their ends, and their hair greasy and
unpowdered, tucked up under their hats of an enormous size. Thus finished
and adorned by their travels, they become the disturbers of play-houses;
they break the windows, and commonly the landlords, of the taverns where
they drink; and are at once the support, the terror, and the victims, of
the bawdy-houses they frequent. These poor mistaken people think they
shine, and so they do indeed; but it is as putrefaction shines in the
dark.