letters to his son, 1749- 第8部分

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；　he　will　send　them　by　that　person；　but　if　he　should　not；　and　that　you　should　be　gone　from　Venice　before　he　gets　there；　he　will　in　that　case　give　them　to　your　banker；　Monsieur　Cornet；　to　forward　to　you；　wherever　you　may　then　be。　　You　are　now　of　an　age；　at　which　the　adorning　your　person　is　not　only　not　ridiculous；　but　proper　and　becoming。　Negligence　would　imply　either　an　indifference　about　pleasing；　or　else　an　insolent　security　of　pleasing；　without　using　those　means　to　which　others　are　obliged　to　have　recourse。　　A　thorough　cleanliness　in　your　person　is　as　necessary　for　your　own　health；　as　it　is　not　to　be　offensive　to　other　people。　　Washing　yourself；　and　rubbing　your　body　and　limbs　frequently　with　a　fleshbrush；　will　conduce　as　much　to　health　as　to　cleanliness。　　A　particular　attention　to　the　cleanliness　of　your　mouth；　teeth；　hands；　and　nails；　is　but　common　decency；　in　order　not　to　offend　people's　eyes　and　noses。

I　send　you　here　inclosed　a　letter　of　recommendation　to　the　Duke　of　Nivernois；　the　French　Ambassador　at　Rome；　who　is；　in　my　opinion；　one　of　the　prettiest　men　I　ever　knew　in　my　life。　　I　do　not　know　a　better　model　for　you　to　form　yourself　upon；　pray　observe　and　frequent　him　as　much　as　you　can。　　He　will　show　you　what　manners　and　graces　are。　　I　shall；　by　successive　posts；　send　you　more　letters；　both　for　Rome　and　Naples；　where　it　will　be　your　own　fault　entirely　if　you　do　not　keep　the　very　best　company。

As　you　will　meet　swarms　of　Germans　wherever　you　go；　I　desire　that　you　will　constantly　converse　with　them　in　their　own　language；　which　will　improve　you　in　that　language；　and　be；　at　the　same　time；　an　agreeable　piece　of　civility　to　them。

Your　stay　in　Italy　will；　I　do　not　doubt；　make　you　critically　master　of　Italian；　I　know　it　may；　if　you　please；　for　it　is　a　very　regular；　and　consequently　a　very　easy　language。　　Adieu！　God　bless　you！




LETTER　LXXV

LONDON；　July　20；　O。　S。　　1749。

DEAR　BOY：　I　wrote　to　Mr。　Harte　last　Monday；　the　17th；　O。　S。；　in　answer　to　his　letter　of　the　20th　June；　N。　S。；　which　I　had　received　but　the　day　before；　after　an　interval　of　eight　posts；　during　which　I　did　not　know　whether　you　or　he　existed；　and　indeed　I　began　to　think　that　you　did　not。　By　that　letter　you　ought　at　this　time　to　be　at　Venice；　where　I　hope　you　are　arrived　in　perfect　health；　after　the　baths　of　Tiefler；　in　case　you　have　made　use　of　them。　　I　hope　they　are　not　hot　baths；　if　your　lungs　are　still　tender。

Your　friend；　the　Comte　d'Einsiedlen；　is　arrived　here：　he　has　been　at　my　door；　and　I　have　been　at　his；　but　we　have　not　yet　met。　　He　will　dine　with　me　some　day　this　week。　　Comte　Lascaris　inquires　after　you　very　frequently；　and　with　great　affection；　pray　answer　the　letter　which　I　forwarded　to　you　a　great　while　ago　from　him。　　You　may　inclose　your　answer　to　me；　and　I　will　take　care　to　give　it　him。　　Those　attentions　ought　never　to　be　omitted；　they　cost　little；　and　please　a　great　deal；　but　the　neglect　of　them　offends　more　than　you　can　yet　imagine。　　Great　merit；　or　great　failings；　will　make　you　b