Letters to His Son, 1766 to 1771
T >> The Earl of Chesterfield >> Letters to His Son, 1766 to 1771
God bless you, and send you health, which is the first and greatest of
all blessings!
LETTER CCCVIII
LONDON, March 15, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter is supplemental to my last. This morning
Lord Weymouth very civilly sent Mr. Wood, his first 'commis', to tell me
that the King very willingly gave you leave of absence from your post for
a year, for the recovery of your health; but then added, that as the
Court of Vienna was tampering with that of Saxony, which it seems our
Court is desirous to 'contrequarrer', it might be necessary to have in
the interim a 'Charge d'Affaires' at Dresden, with a defalcation out of
your appointments of forty shillings a-day, till your return, if I would
agree to it. I told him that I consented to both the proposals, upon
condition that at your return you should have the character and the pay
of Plenipotentiary added to your present character and pay; and that I
would completely make up to you the defalcation of the forty shillings
a-day. He positively engaged for it: and added, that he knew that it
would be willingly agreed to. Thus I think I have made a good bargain for
you, though but an indifferent one for myself: but that is what I never
minded in my life. You may, therefore, depend upon receiving from me the
full of this defalcation, when and how you please, independently of your
usual annual refreshment, which I will pay to Monsieur Larpent, whenever
you desire it. In the meantime, 'Cura ut valeas'.
The person whom Mr. Wood intimated to me would be the 'Charge d'Affaires'
during your absence, is one Mr. Keith, the son of that Mr. Keith who was
formerly Minister in Russia.
LETTER CCCIX
LONDON, April 12, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, your letter of the 1st; in which
you do not mention the state of your health, which I desire you will do
for the future.
I believe you have guessed the true reason of Mr. Keith's mission; but by
a whisper that I have since heard, Keith is rather inclined to go to
Turin, as 'Charge d'Affaires'. I forgot to tell you, in my last, that I
was almost positively assured that the instant you return to Dresden,
Keith should decamp. I am persuaded that they will keep their words with
me, as there is no one reason in the world why they should not. I will
send your annual to Mr. Larpent, in a fortnight, and pay the forty
shillings a-day quarterly, if there should be occasion; for, in my own
private opinion, there will be no 'Charge d'Affaires' sent. I agree with
you, that 'point d'argent, point d'Allemand', as was used to be said, and
not without more reason, of the Swiss; but, as we have neither the
inclination nor I fear the power to give subsidies, the Court of Vienna
can give good things that cost them nothing, as archbishoprics,
bishoprics, besides corrupting their ministers and favorite with places.
Elections here have been carried to a degree of frenzy hitherto unheard
of; that for the town of Northampton has cost the contending parties at
least thirty thousand pounds a side, and-------------has sold his borough
of---------, to two members, for nine thousand pounds. As soon as Wilkes
had lost his election for the city, he set up for the county of
Middlesex, and carried it hollow, as the jockeys say. Here were great
mobs and riots upon that occasion, and most of the windows in town broke,
that had no lights for WILKES AND LIBERTY, who were thought to be
inseparable. He will appear, the 10th of this month, in the Court of
King's Bench, to receive his sentence; and then great riots are again
expected, and probably will happen. God bless you!
LETTER CCCX
BATH, October 17, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND. Your last two letters, to myself and Grevenkop, have
alarmed me extremely; but I comfort myself a little, by hoping that you,
like all people who suffer, think yourself worse than you are. A dropsy
never comes so suddenly; and I flatter myself, that it is only that gouty
or rheumatic humor, which has plagued you so long, that has occasioned
the temporary swelling of your legs. Above forty years ago, after a
violent fever, my legs swelled as much as you describe yours to be; I
immediately thought that I had a dropsy; but the Faculty assured me, that
my complaint was only the effect of my fever, and would soon be cured;
and they said true. Pray let your amanuensis, whoever he may be, write an
account regularly once a-week, either to Grevenkop or myself, for that is
the same thing, of the state of your health.
I sent you, in four successive letters, as much of the Duchess of
Somerset's snuff as a letter could well convey to you. Have you received
all or any of them? and have they done you any good? Though, in your
present condition, you cannot go into company, I hope that you have some
acquaintances that come and sit with you; for if originally it was not
good for man to be alone, it is much worse for a sick man to be so; he
thinks too much of his distemper, and magnifies it. Some men of learning
among the ecclesiastics, I dare say, would be glad to sit with you; and
you could give them as good as they brought.
Poor Harte, who is here still, is in a most miserable condition: he has
entirely lost the use of his left side, and can hardly speak
intelligibly. I was with him yesterday. He inquired after you with great
affection, and was in the utmost concern when I showed him your letter.
My own health is as it has been ever since I was here last year. I am
neither well nor ill, but UNWELL. I have in a manner lost the use of my
legs; for though I can make a shift to crawl upon even ground for a
quarter of an hour, I cannot go up or down stairs, unless supported by a
servant. God bless you and grant you a speedy recovery!
NOTE.--This is the last of the letters of Lord Chesterfield to his
son, Mr. Philip Stanhope, who died in November, 1768. The
unexpected and distressing intelligence was announced by the lady to
whom Mr. Stanhope had been married for several years, unknown to his
father. On learning that the widow had two sons, the issue of this
marriage, Lord Chesterfield took upon himself the maintenance of his
grandchildren. The letters which follow show how happily the writer
adapted himself to the trying situation.
LETTER CCCXI
TO MRS. STANHOPE, THEN AT PARIS
LONDON, March 16, 1769.
MADAM: A troublesome and painful inflammation in my eyes obliges me to
use another hand than my own to acknowledge the receipt of your letter
from Avignon, of the 27th past.
I am extremely surprised that Mrs. du Bouchet should have any objection
to the manner in which your late husband desired to be buried, and which
you, very properly, complied with. All I desire for my own burial is not
to be buried alive; but how or where, I think must be entirely
indifferent to every rational creature.
I have no commission to trouble you with, during your stay at Paris; from
whence, I wish you and the boys a good journey home, where I shall be
very glad to see you all; and assure you of my being, with great truth,
your faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXII
TO THE SAME, AT LONDON
MADAM: The last time that I had the pleasure of seeing you, I was so
taken up in playing with the boys that I forgot their more important
affairs. How soon would you have them placed at school? When I know your
pleasure as to that, I will send to Monsieur Perny, to prepare everything
for their reception. In the meantime, I beg that you will equip them
thoroughly with clothes, linen, etc., all good, but plain; and give me
the account, which I will pay; for I do not intend that, from, this time
forward the two boys should cost you one shilling. I am, with great
truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIII
MADAM: As some day must be fixed for sending the boys to school, do you
approve of the 8th of next month? By which time the weather will probably
be warm and settled, and you will be able to equip them completely.
I will upon that day send my coach to you, to carry you and the boys to
Loughborough House, with all their immense baggage. I must recommend to
you, when you leave them there, to suppress, as well as you can, the
overgrowings of maternal tenderness; which would grieve the poor boys the
more, and give them a terror of their new establishment. I am, with great
truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIV
BATH, October 11, 1769.
MADAM: Nobody can be more willing and ready to obey orders than I am; but
then I must like the orders and the orderer. Your orders and yourself
come under this description; and therefore I must give you an account of
my arrival and existence, such as it is, here. I got hither last Sunday,
the day after I left London, less fatigued than I expected to have been;
and now crawl about this place upon my three legs, but am kept in
countenance by many of my fellow-crawlers; the last part of the Sphinx's
riddle approaches, and I shall soon end, as I began, upon all fours.
When you happen to see either Monsieur or Madame Perny, I beg you will
give them this melancholic proof of my caducity, and tell them that the
last time I went to see the boys, I carried the Michaelmas quarterage in
my pocket; and when I was there I totally forgot it; but assure them,
that I have not the least intention to bilk them, and will pay them
faithfully the two quarters together, at Christmas.
I hope our two boys are well, for then I am sure you are so. I am, with
great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXV
BATH, October 28, 1769.
MADAM: Your kind anxiety for my health and life is more than, in my
opinion, they are both worth; without the former the latter is a burden;
and, indeed, I am very weary of it. I think I have got some benefit by
drinking these waters, and by bathing, for my old stiff, rheumatic limbs;
for, I believe, I could now outcrawl a snail, or perhaps even a tortoise.
I hope the boys are well. Phil, I dare say, has been in some scrapes; but
he will get triumphantly out of them, by dint of strength and resolution.
I am, with great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVI
BATH, November 5, 1769.
MADAM: I remember very well the paragraph which you quote from a letter
of mine to Mrs. du Bouchet, and see no reason yet to retract that
opinion, in general, which at least nineteen widows in twenty had
authorized. I had not then the pleasure of your acquaintance: I had seen
you but twice or thrice; and I had no reason to think that you would
deviate, as you have done, from other widows, so much as to put perpetual
shackles upon yourself, for the sake of your children. But (if I may use
a vulgarism) one swallow makes no summer: five righteous were formerly
necessary to save a city, and they could not be found; so, till I find
four more such righteous widows as yourself, I shall entertain my former
notions of widowhood in general.
I can assure you that I drink here very soberly and cautiously, and at
the same time keep so cool a diet that I do not find the least symptom of
heat, much less of inflammation. By the way, I never had that complaint,
in consequence of having drank these waters; for I have had it but four
times, and always in the middle of summer. Mr. Hawkins is timorous, even
to minutia, and my sister delights in them.
Charles will be a scholar, if you please; but our little Philip, without
being one, will be something or other as good, though I do not yet guess
what. I am not of the opinion generally entertained in this country, that
man lives by Greek and Latin alone; that is, by knowing a great many
words of two dead languages, which nobody living knows perfectly, and
which are of no use in the common intercourse of life. Useful knowledge
in my opinion consists of modern languages, history, and geography; some
Latin may be thrown into the bargain, in compliance with custom, and for
closet amusement.
You are, by this time, certainly tired with this long letter, which I
could prove to you from Horace's own words (for I am a scholar) to be a
bad one; he says, that water-drinkers can write nothing good: so I am,
with real truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVII
BATH, October 9, 1770.
MADAM: I am extremely obliged to you for the kind part which you take in
my health and life: as to the latter, I am as indifferent myself as any
other body can be; but as to the former, I confess care and anxiety, for
while I am to crawl upon this planet, I would willingly enjoy the health
at least of an insect. How far these waters will restore me to that,
moderate degree of health, which alone I aspire at, I have not yet given
them a fair trial, having drank them but one week; the only difference I
hitherto find is, that I sleep better than I did.
I beg that you will neither give yourself, nor Mr. Fitzhugh, much trouble
about the pine plants; for as it is three years before they fruit, I
might as well, at my age, plant oaks, and hope to have the advantage of
their timber: however, somebody or other, God knows who, will eat them,
as somebody or other will fell and sell the oaks I planted five-and-forty
years ago.
I hope our boys are well; my respects to them both. I am, with the
greatest truth, your faithful and humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVIII
BATH, November 4,1770
MADAM: The post has been more favorable to you than I intended it should,
for, upon my word, I answered your former letter the post after I had
received it. However you have got a loss, as we say sometimes in Ireland.
My friends from time to time require bills of health from me in these
suspicious times, when the plague is busy in some parts of Europe. All I
can say, in answer to their kind inquiries, is, that I have not the
distemper properly called the plague; but that I have all the plague of
old age and of a shattered carcass. These waters have done me what little
good I expected from them; though by no means what I could have wished,
for I wished them to be 'les eaux de Jouvence'.
I had a letter, the other day, from our two boys; Charles' was very
finely written, and Philip's very prettily: they are perfectly well, and
say that they want nothing. What grown-up people will or can say as much?
I am, with the truest esteem, Madam, your most faithful servant.
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIX
BATH, October 27,1771.
MADAM: Upon my word, you interest yourself in the state of my existence
more than I do myself; for it is worth the care of neither of us. I
ordered my valet de chambre, according to your orders, to inform you of
my safe arrival here; to which I can add nothing, being neither better
nor worse than I was then.
I am very glad that our boys are well. Pray give them the inclosed.
I am not at all surprised at Mr.------'s conversion, for he was, at
seventeen, the idol of old women, for his gravity, devotion, and
dullness. I am, Madam, your most faithful, humble servant,
CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXX
TO CHARLES AND PHILIP STANHOPE
I RECEIVED a few days ago two the best written letters that ever I saw in
my life; the one signed Charles Stanhope, the other Philip Stanhope. As
for you Charles, I did not wonder at it; for you will take pains, and are
a lover of letters; but you, idle rogue, you Phil, how came you to write
so well that one can almost say of you two, 'et cantare pores et
respondre parati'! Charles will explain this Latin to you.
I am told, Phil, that you have got a nickname at school, from your
intimacy with Master Strangeways; and that they call you Master
Strangeways; for to be rude, you are a strange boy. Is this true?
Tell me what you would have me bring you both from hence, and I will
bring it you, when I come to town. In the meantime, God bless you both!
CHESTERFIELD.
ETEXT EDITORS BOOKMARKS:
All I desire for my own burial is not to be buried alive
Anxiety for my health and life
Borough-jobber
Get what I can, if I cannot get what I will
Horace
I shall never know, though all the coffeehouses here do
L'influenza
Neither well nor ill, but UNWELL
Read my eyes out every day, that I may not hang myself
Stamp-act has proved a most pernicious measure
Those who wish him the best, as I do, must wish him dead
Water-drinkers can write nothing good
Would have all intoleration intolerated in its turn
Would not tell what she did not know