letters to his son, 1749-第7章

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ord　it：　my　anxiety　for　you　carries　me　insensibly　to　these　lengths。　　I　am　apt　to　flatter　myself；　that　my　experience；　at　the　latter　end　of　my　life；　may　be　of　use　to　you　at　the　beginning　of　yours；　and　I　do　not　grudge　the　greatest　trouble；　if　it　can　procure　you　the　least　advantage。　　I　even　repeat　frequently　the　same　things；　the　better　to　imprint　them　on　your　young；　and；　I　suppose；　yet　giddy　mind；　and　I　shall　think　that　part　of　my　time　the　best　employed；　that　contributes　to　make　you　employ　yours　well。　　God　bless　you；　child！




LETTER　LXXII

LONDON；　June　16；　O。　S。　　1749。

DEAR　BOY：　I　do　not　guess　where　this　letter　will　find　you；　but　I　hope　it　will　find　you　well：　I　direct　it　eventually　to　Laubach；　from　whence　I　suppose　you　have　taken　care　to　have　your　letters　sent　after　you。　　I　received　no　account　from　Mr。　Harte　by　last　post；　and　the　mail　due　this　day　is　not　yet　come　in；　so　that　my　informations　come　down　no　lower　than　the　2d　June；　N。　S。；　the　date　of　Mr；　Harte's　last　letter。　　As　I　am　now　easy　about　your　health；　I　am　only　curious　about　your　motions；　which　I　hope　have　been　either　to　Inspruck　or　Verona；　for　I　disapprove　extremely　of　your　proposed　long　and　troublesome　journey　to　Switzerland。　　Wherever　you　may　be；　I　recommend　to　you　to　get　as　much　Italian　as　you　can；　before　you　go　either　to　Rome　or　Naples：　a　little　will　be　of　great　use　to　you　upon　the　road；　and　the　knowledge　of　the　grammatical　part；　which　you　can　easily　acquire　in　two　or　three　months；　will　not　only　facilitate　your　progress；　but　accelerate　your　perfection　in　that　language；　when　you　go　to　those　places　where　it　is　generally　spoken；　as　Naples；　Rome；　Florence；　etc。

Should　the　state　of　your　health　not　yet　admit　of　your　usual　application　to　books；　you　may；　in　a　great　degree；　and　I　hope　you　will；　repair　that　loss　by　useful　and　instructive　conversations　with　Mr。　Harte：　　you　may；　for　example；　desire　him　to　give　you　in　conversation　the　outlines；　at　least；　of　Mr。　Locke's　logic；　a　general　notion　of　ethics；　and　a　verbal　epitome　of　rhetoric；　of　all　which　Mr。　Harte　will　give　you　clearer　ideas　in　half　an　hour；　by　word　of　mouth；　than　the　books　of　most　of　the　dull　fellows　who　have　written　upon　those　subjects　would　do　in　a　week。

I　have　waited　so　long　for　the　post；　which　I　hoped　would　come；　that　the　post；　which　is　just　going　out；　obliges　me　to　cut　this　letter　short。　　God　bless　you；　my　dear　child！　and　restore　you　soon　to　perfect　health！

My　compliments　to　Mr。　Harte；　to　whose　care　your　life　is　the　least　thing　that　you　owe。




LETTER　LXXIII

LONDON；　June　22；　O。　S。　　1749。

DEAR　BOY：　The　outside　of　your　letter　of　the　7th　N。　S。；　directed　by　your　own　hand；　gave　me　more　pleasure　than　the　inside　of　any　other　letter　ever　did。　　I　received　it　yesterday　at　the　same　time　with　one　from　Mr。　Harts　of　the　6th。　　They　arrived　at　a　very　proper　time；　for　they　found　a　consultation　of　physicians　in　my　room；　upon　account　of　a　fever　which　I　had　for　four　or　five　days；　but　which　has　now　entirely　left　me。　　As　Mr。　Harte　Says　THAT　YOUR　LUNGS　NOW　AND　THEN　GIVE　YOU　A　LITTLE　PAIN；　and　that　YOUR　SWELLINGS　COME　AND　GO　VARIABLY；　but　as　he　mentions　nothing　of　your　coughing；　spitting；　or　sweating；　the　doctors　take　it　for　granted　that　you　are　entirely　free　from　those　three　bad　symptoms：　and　from　thence　conclude；　that；　the　pain　which　you　sometimes　feel　upon　your　lungs　is　only　symptomatical　of　your　rheumatic　disorder；　from　the　pressure　of　the　muscles　which　hinders　the　free　play　of　the　lungs。　　But；　however；　as　the　lungs　are　a　point　of　the　utmost　importance　and　delicacy；　they　insist　upon　your　drinking；　in　all　events；　asses'　milk　twice　a　day；　and　goats'　whey　as　often　as　you　please；　the　oftener　the　better：　in　your　common　diet；　they　recommend　an　attention　to　pectorals；　such　as　sago；　barley；　turnips；　etc。　These　rules　are　equally　good　in　rheumatic　as　in　consumptive　cases；　you　will　therefore；　I　hope；　strictly　observe　them；　for　I　take　it　for　granted　that　you　are　above　the　silly　likings　or　dislikings；　in　which　silly　people　indulge　their　tastes；　at　the　expense　of　their　health。

I　approve　of　your　going　to　Venice；　as　much　as　I　disapproved　of　your　going　to　Switzerland。　　I　suppose　that　you　are　by　this　time　arrived；　and；　in　that　supposition；　I　direct　this　letter　there。　　But　if　you　should　find　the　heat　too　great；　or　the　water　offensive；　at　this　time　of　the　year；　I　would　have　you　go　immediately　to　Verona；　and　stay　there　till　the　great　heats　are　over；　before　you　return　to　Venice。

The　time　which　you　will　probably　pass　at　Venice　will　allow　you　to　make　yourself　master　of　that　intricate　and　singular　form　of　government；　of　which　few　of　our　travelers　know　anything。　　Read；　ask；　and　see　everything　that　is　relative　to　it。　　There　are　likewise　many　valuable　remains　of　the　remotest　antiquity；　and　many　fine　pieces　of　the　Antico…moderno；　all　which　deserve　a　different　sort　of　attention　from　that　which　your　countrymen　commonly　give　them。　　They　go　to　see　them；　as　they　go　to　see　the　lions；　and　kings　on　horseback；　at　the　Tower　here；　only　to　say　that　they　have　seen　them。　　You　will；　I　am　sure；　view　them　in　another　light；　you　will　consider　them　as　you　would　a　poem；　to　which　indeed　they　are　akin。　　You　will　observe　whether　the　sculptor　has　animated　his　stone；　or　the　painter　his　canvas；　into　the　just　expression　of　those　sentiments　and　passions　which　should　characterize　and　mark　their　several　figures。　　You　will　examine；　likewise；　whether　in　their　groups　there　be　a　unity　of　action；　or　proper　relation；　a　truth　of　dress　and　manners。　　Sculpture　and　painting　are　very　justly　called　liberal　arts；　a　lively　and　strong　imagination；　together　with　a　just　observation；　being　absolutely　necessary　to　excel　in　either；　which；　in　my　opinion；　is　by　no　means　the　case　of　music；　though　called　a　liberal　art；　and　now　in　Italy　placed　even　above　the　other　two；　a　proof　of　the　decline　of　that　country。　　The　Venetian　school　produced　many　great　painters；　such　as　Paul　Veronese；　Titian；　Palma；　etc。；　of　whom　you　will　see；　as　well　in　private　houses　as　in　churches；　very　fine　pieces。　The　Last　Supper；　of　Paul　Veronese；　in　the　church　of　St。　George；　is　reckoned　his　capital　performance；　and　deserves　your　attention；　as　does　also　the　famous　picture　of　the　Cornaro　Family；　by　Titian。　　A　taste　for　sculpture　and　painting　is；　in　my　mind；　as　becoming　as　a　taste　for　fiddling　and　piping　is　unbecoming；　a　man　of　fashion。　　The　former　is　connected　with　history　and　poetry；　the　latter；　with　nothing　that　I　know　of　but　bad　company。

Learn　Italian　as　fast　as　ever　you　can；　that　you　may　be　able　to　understand　it　tolerably；　and　speak　it　a　little　before　you　go　to　Rome　and　Naples：　There　are　many　good　historians　in　that　language；　and　excellent　translations　of　the　ancient　Greek　and　Latin　authors；　which　are　called　the　Collana；　but　the　only　two　Italian　poets　that　deserve　your　acquaintance　are　Ariosto　and　Tasso；　and　they　undoubtedly　have　great　merit。

Make　my　compliments　to　Mr。　Harte；　and　tell　him　that　I　have　consulted　about　his　leg；　and　that　if　it　was　only　a　sprain；　he　ought　to　keep　a　tight　bandage　about　the　part；　for　a　considerable　time；　and　do　nothing　else　to　it。　　Adieu！　　'Jubeo　te　bene　valere'。




LETTER　LXXIV

LONDON；　July　6；　O。　S。　　1749。

DEAR　BOY：　As　I　am　now　no　longer　in　pain　about　your　health；　which　I　trust　is　perfectly　restored；　and　as；　by　the　various　accounts　I　have　had　of　you；　I　need　not　be　in　pain　about　your　learning；　our　correspondence　may；　for　the　future；　turn　upon　less　important　points；　comparatively；　though　still　very　important　ones：　I　mean；　the　knowledge　of　the　world；　decorum；　manners；　address；　and　all　those　（commonly　called　little）　accomplishments；　which　are　absolutely　necessary　to　give　greater　accomplishments　their　full；　value　and　lustre。

Had　I　the　admirable　ring　of　Gyges；　which　rendered　the　wearer　invisible；　and　had　I；　at　the　same　time；　those　magic　powers；　which　were　very　common　formerly；　but　are　now　very　scarce；　of　transporting　myself；　by　a　wish；　to　any　given　place；　my　first　expedition　would　be　to　Venice；　there　to　RECONNOITRE　you；　unseen　myself。　　I　would　first　take　you　in　the　morning；　at　breakfast　with　Mr。　Harte；　and　attend　to　your　natural　and　unguarded　conversation　with　him；　from　whence；　I　think；　I　could　pretty　well　judge　of　your　natural　turn　of　mind。　　How　I　should　rejoice　if　I　overheard　you　asking　him　pertinent　questions　upon　useful　subjects！　or　making　judicious　reflections　upon　the　studies　of　that　morning；　or　the　occurrences　of　the　former　day！　Then　I　would　follow　you　into　the　different　companies　of　the　day；　and　carefully　observe　in　what　manner　you　presented　yourself　to；　and　behaved　yourself　with；　men　of　sense　and　dignity；　whether　your　address　was　respectful；　and　yet　easy；　your　air　modest；　and　yet　unembarrassed；　and　I　would；　at　the　same　time；　penetrate　into　their　thoughts；　in　order　to　know　whether　your　first　'abord'　made　that　advantageous　impression　upon　their　fancies；　which　a　certain　address；　air；　and　manners；　never　fail　doing。　I　would　afterward　follow　you　to　the　mixed　companies　of　the　evening；　such　as　assemblies；　suppers；　etc。；　and　there　watch　if　you　trifled　gracefully　and　genteelly：　if　your　good…breeding　and　politeness　made　way　for　your　parts　and　knowledge。　　With　what　pleasure　should　I　hear　people　cry　out；　'Che　garbato　cavaliere；　com'　e　pulito；　disinvolto；　spiritoso'！　If　all　these　things　turned　out　to　my　mind；　I　would　immediately　assume　my　own　shape；　become　visible；　and　embrace　you：　but　if　the　contrary　happened；　I　would　preserve　my　invisibility；　make　the　best　of　my　way　home　again；　and　sink　my　disappointment　upon　you　and　the　world。　　As；　unfortunately；　these　supernatural　powers　of　genii；　fairies；　sylphs；　and　gnomes；　have　had　the　fate　of　the　oracles　they　succeeded；　and　have　ceased　for　some　time；　I　must　content　myself　（till　we　meet　naturally；　and　in　the　common　way）　with　Mr。　Harte's　written　accounts　of　you；　and　the　verbal　ones　which　I　now　and　then　receive　from　people　who　have　seen　you。　　However；　I　believe　it　would　do　you　no　harm；　if　you　would　always　imagine　that　I　were　present；　and　saw　and　heard　everything　you　did　and　said。

There　is　a　certain　concurrence　of　various　little　circumstances　which　compose　what　the　French　call　'l'aimable'；　and　which；　now　that　you　are　entering　into　the　world；　you　ought　to　make　it　your　particular　study　to　acquire。　　Without　them；　your　learning　will　be　pedantry；　your　conversation　often　improper；　always　unpleasant；　and　your　figure；　however　good　in　itself；　awkward　and　unengaging。　　A　diamond；　while　rough；　has　indeed　its　intrinsic　value；　but；　till　polished；　is　of　no　use；　and　would　neither　be　sought　for　nor　worn。　　Its　great　lustre；　it　is　true；　proceeds　from　its　solidity　and　strong　cohesion　of　parts；　but　without　the　last　polish；　it　would　remain　forever　a　dirty；　rough　mineral；　in　the　cabinets　of　some　few　curious　collectors。　　You　have；　I　hope；　that　solidity　and　cohesion　of　parts；　take　now　as　much　pains　to　get　the　lustre。　　Good　company；　if　you　make　the　right　use　of　it；　will　cut　you　into　shape；　and　give　you　the　true　brilliant　polish。　　A　propos　of　diamonds：　I　have　sent　you　by　Sir　James　Gray；　the　King's　Minister；　who　will　be　at　Venice　about　the　middle　of　September；　my　own　diamond　buckles；　which　are　fitter　for　your　young　feet　than　for　my　old　ones：　they　will　properly　adorn　you；　they　would　only　expose　me。　　If　Sir　James　finds　anybody　whom　he　can　trust；　and　who　will　be　at　Venice　before　him