LONDON, November 18, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Whatever I see or whatever I hear, my first consideration is,
whether it can in any way be useful to you. As a proof of this, I went
accidentally the other day into a print-shop, where, among many others, I
found one print from a famous design of Carlo Maratti, who died about
thirty years ago, and was the last eminent painter in Europe: the subject
is ‘il Studio del Disegno’; or “The School of Drawing.” An old man,
supposed to be the master, points to his scholars, who are variously
employed in perspective, geometry, and the observation of the statues of
antiquity. With regard to perspective, of which there are some little
specimens, he has wrote, ‘Tanto che basti’, that is, “As much as is
sufficient”; with regard to geometry, ‘Tanto che basti’ again; with
regard to the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is written,
‘Non mai a bastanza’,--“There never can be enough.” But in the clouds, at
the top of the piece, are represented the three Graces, with this just
sentence written over them, ‘Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana’, that is,
“Without us, all labor is vain.” This everybody allows to be true in
painting; but all people do not seem to consider, as I hope you will,
that this truth is full as applicable to every other art or science;
indeed to everything that is to be said or done. I will send you the
print itself by Mr. Eliot, when he returns; and I will advise you to make
the same use of it that the Roman Catholics say they do of the pictures
and images of their saints, which is, only to remind them of those; for
the adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will go further, as the transition
from Popery to Paganism is short and easy, I will classically end
poetically advise you to invoke, and sacrifice to them every day, and all
the day. It must be owned, that the Graces do not seem to be natives of
Great Britain; and, I doubt, the best of us here have more of rough than
polished diamond.
Since barbarism drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to have
taken refuge in France, where their temples are numerous, and their
worship the established one. Examine yourself seriously, why such and
such people please and engage you, more than such and such others, of
equal merit; and you will always find that it is because the former have
the Graces and the latter not. I have known many a woman with an exact
shape, and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful features, please nobody;
while others, with very moderate shapes and features, have charmed
everybody. Why? because Venus will not charm so much, without her
attendant Graces, as they will without her. Among men, how often have I
seen the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwelcome, or even
rejected, for want of them! While flimsy parts, little knowledge, and
less merit, introduced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, and
admired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms if
unaccompanied by them.
If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither you nor I can define or
ascertain, I can only answer, BY OBSERVATION. Form yourself, with regard
to others, upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell you the
importance, the advantage, of having the Graces; but I cannot give them
you: I heartily wish I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know a
better present that I could make you. To show you that a very wise,
philosophical, and retired man thinks upon that subject as I do, who have
always lived in the world, I send you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr.
Locke’s book upon education; in which you will end the stress that he
lays upon the Graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. I
have marked all the parts of that book that are worth your attention; for
as he begins with the child, almost from its birth, the parts relative to
its infancy would be useless to you. Germany is, still less than England,
the seat of the Graces; however, you had as good not say so while you are
there. But the place which you are going to, in a great degree, is; for I
have known as many well-bred, pretty men come from Turin, as from any
part of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great pains to form such
of his subjects as were of any consideration, both to business and
manners; the present king, I am told, follows his example: this, however,
is certain, that in all courts and congresses, where there are various
foreign ministers, those of the King of Sardinia are generally the
ablest, the politest, and ‘les plus delies’. You will therefore, at
Turin, have very good models to form yourself upon: and remember, that
with regard to the best models, as well as to the antique Greek statues
in the print, ‘non mai a bastanza’. Observe every word, look, and motion
of those who are allowed to be the most accomplished persons there.
Observe their natural and careless, but genteel air; their unembarrassed
good-breeding; their unassuming, but yet unprostituted dignity. Mind
their decent mirth, their discreet frankness, and that ‘entregent’ which,
as much above the frivolous as below the important and the secret, is the
proper medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will observe, by the
bye, that the talent of that light ‘entregent’ is often of great use to a
foreign minister; not only as it helps him to domesticate himself in many
families, but also as it enables him to put by and parry some subjects of
conversation, which might possibly lay him under difficulties both what
to say and how to look.
Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremely
well), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highest
degree, not to say engrossed them; and indeed he got the most by them;
for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who
always assign deep causes for great events), to ascribe the better half
of the Duke of Marlborough’s greatness and riches to those graces. He was
eminently illiterate; wrote bad English and spelled it still worse. He
had no share of what is commonly called PARTS: that is, he had no
brightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had most undoubtedly, an
excellent good plain understanding with sound judgment. But these alone,
would probably have raised him but something higher than they found him;
which was page to King James the Second’s queen. There the Graces
protected and promoted him; for while he was an ensign of the Guards, the
Duchess of Cleveland, then favorite mistress to King Charles the Second,
struck by those very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds, with which he
immediately bought an annuity for his life of five hundred pounds a year,
of my grandfather Halifax; which was the foundation of his subsequent
fortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner was irresistible, by
either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he
was enabled, during all his war, to connect the various and jarring
powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of
the war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies,
and wrongheadednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was often
obliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he as
constantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The Pensionary
Heinsius, a venerable old minister, grown gray in business, and who had
governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years,
was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic
feels to this day. He was always cool; and nobody ever observed the least
variation in his countenance; he could refuse more gracefully than other
people could grant; and those who went away from him the most
dissatisfied as to the substance of their business, were yet personally
charmed with him and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all
his gentleness and gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of his
situation, nor maintained his dignity better.
With the share of knowledge which you have already gotten, and with the
much greater which I hope you will soon acquire, what may you not expect
to arrive at, if you join all these graces to it? In your destination
particularly, they are in truth half your business: for, if you once gain
the affections as well as the esteem of the prince or minister of the
court to which you are sent, I will answer for it, that will effectually
do the business of the court that sent you; otherwise it is up-hill work.
Do not mistake, and think that these graces which I so often and so
earnestly recommend to you, should only accompany important transactions,
and be worn only ‘les jours de gala’; no, they should, if possible,
accompany every, the least thing you do or say; for, if you neglect them
in little things, they will leave you in great ones. I should, for
instance, be extremely concerned to see you even drink a cup of coffee
ungracefully, and slop yourself with it, by your awkward manner of
holding it; nor should I like to see your coat buttoned, or your shoes
buckled awry. But I should be outrageous, if I heard you mutter your
words unintelligibly, stammer, in your speech, or hesitate, misplace, and
mistake in your narrations; and I should run away from you with greater
rapidity, if possible, than I should now run to embrace you, if I found
you destitute of all those graces which I have set my heart upon their
making you one day, ‘omnibus ornatum excellere rebus’.
This subject is inexhaustible, as it extends to everything that is to be
said or done: but I will leave it for the present, as this letter is
already pretty long. Such is my desire, my anxiety for your perfection,
that I never think I have said enough, though you may possibly think that
I have said too much; and though, in truth, if your own good sense is not
sufficient to direct you, in many of these plain points, all that I or
anybody else can say will be insufficient. But where you are concerned, I
am the insatiable man in Horace, who covets still a little corner more to
complete the figure of his field. I dread every little corner that may
deform mine, in which I would have (if possible) no one defect.
I this moment receive yours of the 17th, N. S., and cannot condole with
you upon the secession of your German ‘Commensaux’; who both by your and
Mr. Harte’s description, seem to be ‘des gens d’une amiable absence’;
and, if you can replace them by any other German conversation, you will
be a gainer by the bargain. I cannot conceive, if you understand German
well enough to read any German book, how the writing of the German
character can be so difficult and tedious to you, the twenty-four letters
being very soon learned; and I do not expect that you should write yet
with the utmost purity and correctness, as to the language: what I meant
by your writing once a fortnight to Grevenkop, was only to make the
written character familiar to you. However, I will be content with one in
three weeks or so.
I believe you are not likely to see Mr. Eliot again soon, he being still
in Cornwall with his father; who, I hear, is not likely to recover.
Adieu.