Glass t Book Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/letterstohisnephOOpitt LETTERS WRITTEN BY THE LATE EARL OF CHATHAM TO HIS NEPHEW J) * ..... THOMAS PITT, ESQ. (afterward lord camelford) THEN AT CAMBRIDGE. ODYSS. Ea 272* SECOND AMERICAN EDITlOfo CAMBRIDGE, aiHJTEI) AND SOLD B7 W. HILLIARD, AND »T TH6 800KS2LLER3 IN BOSTON, i-8oji ■:■ .-•' 4 b ^° TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE WILLIAM PITT. Dropmore r Dec* 3* 1803. My dear sir, VV HEN you expressed to me your entire concurrence in my wish to print the following let- ters, you were not apprized that this address would accompany them. By you it will, I trust, be re- ceived as a testimony of affectionate friendship. To others the propriety will be obvious of inscribing with your name a publication, in which Lord Chat- ham teaches, how great talents may most successful- ly be cultivated, and to what objects they may mosfc honorably be directed. ORENVILLE. THE EDITOR'S PREFACE JL HE following letters were addressed by tW late Lord Chatham to his nephew Mr. Pitt, after* ward Lord Camelford, then at Cambridge. They are few in number, written for the private use of an individual during a short period of time, and contain- ing only such detached observations on the extensive subjects to which they relate, as occasion might hap- pen to suggest, in the course of familiar correspon- dence. Yet even these imperfect remains will un- doubtedly be received by the public with no com- mon interest, as well from their own intrinsic value, as from the picture, which they display of the char- acter of their author. The editor's wish to do hon- or to the memory both of the person by whom they were written, and of him to whom they were ad- dressed, would alone have rendered him desirous of making these papers public. But he feels a much higher motive, in the hope of promoting by such a publication the inseparable interests of learning, vir- tue, and religion. By the writers of that school, whose philosophy consists in the degradation of vir- tue, it has often been triumphantly declared, that no excellence of character can stand the test of close oV At VI gervation ; that no man is a hero to his domestic ser- vants, or to his familiar friends. How much more just as well, as more amiable and dignified, is the opposite sentiment, delivered to us in the words of Plutarch, and illustrated throughout all his writings. iS Real virtue," says that inimitable moralist, " is most loved, where it is most nearly seen ; and no pros- pect which it commands from strangers, can equal the never ceasing admiration it excites in the daily intercourse of domestic life." T« uMhm *$»$ xk*- ^itrroc QcAivilxi roi/ficiXiarres, tyccwofAivct xui rm ayccQw ctvogcov hvch W7# Oavpoicrtov roif \x[»s, a$ o xcttf yp&gaw files rots o-vvavtriv, Plut. Vit. Periclis. The following correspondence, imperfect as it is, (and who will not lament that many more such let- ters are not preserved ?) exhibits a great orator, Statesman and patriot, in one of the most interesting relations of private society. Not, as in the cabinet or the senate, enforcing by a vigorous and command- ing eloquence those councils, to which his country owed her preeminence and glory ; but implanting with parental kindness into the mind of an ingenu- ous youth, seeds of wisdom and virtue, which ripen- ed into full maturity in the character of a most accom- plished man ; directing him to the acquisition of knowledge,* as the best instrument of action , teaching * Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit ; Hon ut nomine magninco segne otium velaret, sed quo firmxor ad- yereiis fortuita rem publicans capesseret. Tacitus. VII him by the cultivation of his reason, to strengthen and establish in his heart those principles of moral recti- tude which were congenial to it ; and, above all, ex- horting him to regulate the whole conduct of his life by the predominant influence of gratitude, and obe- dience to God, as the only sure groundwork of every human duty ! What parent, anxious for the character and success of a son, born to any liberal station in this great and free country, would not, in all that related to his edu- cation, gladly have resorted to the advice of such a man ? What youthful spirit, animated by any desire of future excellence, and looking for the gratification of that desire, in the pursuits of honourable ambition or in the consciousness of an upright, active, and useful life, would not embrace with transport any opportu- nity of listening on such a subject to the lessons of Lord Chatham ? They are here before him. Not delivered with the authority of a preceptor, or a pa- rent, but tempered by the affection of a friend towards a disposition and character well entitled to such regard. On that disposition and character the editor for- bears to enlarge. Their best panegyric will be found in the following pages. Lord Camelford is there de- scribed such as Lord Chatham judged him in the first dawn of his youth, and such as he continued to his latest hour. The same suavity of manners, and stead- iness of principle, the same correctness of judgment, and integrity of heart, distinguished him through life | tin and the same affectionate attachment from those who knew him best has followed him beyond the grave* Quse Gratia vivo—* — > — Eadem sequiter tellure repostum ! Of the course of study which these letters recom- mend, little can be necessary to be said by their editor* He is however anxious that a publication, calculated to produce extensive benefit, should not in any single point mislead even the most superficial reader \ nor would he, with all the defFerence which he owes to the authority of Lord Chatham, willingly appear to concur in the recommendation or censure of any works, on which his own judgment is materially dif- ferent from that, which he is now the instrument of delivering to the world. Some early impressions had preposessed Lord Chatham's mind with a much more favourable opin- ion of the political writtings of Lord Bolingbroke, than he might himself have retained on a more im- partial reconsideration. To a reader of the present day, the " Remarks on the History of England" would probably appear but ill entitled to the praises which are in these letters so liberally bestowed upon them. For himself, at least, the editor may be al- lowed to say, that their style is, in his judgment, de- clamatory, diffuse, and involved ; deficient both in elegance and in precision, and little calculated to sat- isfy a taste formed, as Lord Chatham's was on the purest models of classic simplicity. Their matter he IX thinks more substantially defective ; the observations which they contain, display no depth of thought, or extent of knowledge •, their reasoning is, for the most part, trite and superficial ; while on the accuracy with which the facts themselves are represented no reliance can safely be placed. The principles and character of their author Lord Chatham himself con- cerns, with just reprobation. And when, in addi- tion to this general censure, he admits, that in these writings the truth of history is occasionally warped, and its application distorted for party purposes, what further notice can be wanted of the caution with which such a book must always be regarded ? Lord Chatham appears to have recommended to his nephew, at the same time, the study of a very differ en t work, the history of Clarendon. But he speaks with some distrust of the integrity of that val- uable writer. When a statesman traces, for the in- struction of posterity, the living images of the men and manners of his time •, the passions by which he has himself been agitated, and the revolutions in which his own life and fortunes were involved, the picture will doubtless retain a strong impression of the mind, the character, and the opinions of its au« thor. But there will always be a wide interval be- tween the bias of sincere conviction and the dishon- esty of intentional misrepresentation. Clarendon was unquestionably a lover of truth, and a sincere friend to the free constitution of his country. He defended that constitution in parliament, wltfk Zeal and energy, against* the encroachments of pre-* rogative, and concurred in the establishment of new securities necessary for its protection. He did in- deed, when these had been obtained, oppose with e- qual determination those continually increasing de- mands of parliament, which appeared to him to threat- en the existence of the monarchy itself*, desirous, if possible, to conciliate the maintenance of public lib- erty with the preservation of domestic peace, and to turn aside from his country all the evils to which those demands immediately and manifestly tended.f The wish was honorable and virtuous, but it was already become impracticable. The purposes of ir- reconcileable ambition entertained by both the con- tending parties, were utterly inconsistent with the reestablishment of mutual confidence.- The parlia- mentary leaders openly grasped at the exclusive pos- session of all civil and all military authority. And on the other hand,, the perfidy with which the king had violated his past engagements still rankled in the hearts of his people, whose just suspicions of his sin- cerity were continually renewed by the unsteadiness * See particularly the accounts, in Rushworth and Whitelock, of Clarendon's parliamentary conduct in 1640 and 1641 ; and of that «>f Falkland and Colpepper, with whom he acted. f A general recapitulation of these demands may be found in the message sent by the two Houses to the king, on the 2d of June, 1642 ; a paper which is recited by Ludlow as explanatory of the real intentions of the parliament at that period, and as being " in ef? feet the principal foundation of the ensuing war." I Ludlow, 30, ed. 1698* of his conduct, even in the very moments of fresh -concession. While, amongst a large proportion of the community, every circumstance of civil injury or oppression was inflamed and aggravated by the ut- most violence of religious animosity. In this unhappy state the calamities of civil war could no longer be averted ; but the miseries by which the contest was attended, and the military tyranny to which it is so naturally led, justified all the fears of those who had from the beginning most dreaded that terrible extremity. At the restoration the same virtuous statesman protected the constitution against the blind or inter- ested zeal of excessive loyalty y and, if Monk had the glory of restoring the monarchy of England, to Cla- rendon is ascribed the merit of reestablishing her Jaws and liberties. A service no less advantageous to the crown than honourable to himself ; but which was numbered among the chief of those offences for which he was afterwards abandoned, sacrificed, and persecuted by his unfeeling, corrupt, and profligate master. These observations respecting one of the most up- light characters of our history, are here delivered with freedom, though in some degree opposed to so high an authority. The habit of forming such opin- ions for ourselves, instead of receiving them from others, is not the least among the advantages of such a course of reading and reflection as Lord Chatham ^commends. XII It will be obvious to every reader on the slightest perusal of the following letters, that they were never intended to comprise a perfect system of education, even for the short portion of time to which they re- late. Many points in which they will be found de- ficient, were undoubtedly supplied by frequent op- portunities of personal intercourse, and much was left to the general rules of study established at an English university. Still less therefore should the temporary advice addressed to an individual, whose previous education had laboured under some disad- vantage, be understood as a general dissuasive from the cultivation of Grecian literature. The sentiments of Lord Chatham were in direct opposition to any such opinion. The manner in which, even in these letters, he speaks of the first of poets, and the great- est of orators ; and the stress which he lays on the benefits to be derived from their immortal works, could leave no doubt of his judgment on this impor- tant point. That judgment was afterwards most un* equivocally manifested, when he was called upon to consider the question with a still higher interest, not only as a friend and guardian, but also as a father. A diligent study of the poetry, the history, the eloquence, and the philosophy of Greece, an intimate acquaintance with those writings which have been the admiration of every age, and the models of all succeeding excellence, would undoubtedly have been considered by him as an essential part of any gene* .xni vol plan for the education of an English gentleman, born to share in the councils of his country. Such a. plan must also have comprised a much higher pro- gress, than is here traced out, in mathematics, in the science of reason, -in natural,* and in moral philoso- phy ; including in the latter the proofs and doctrines of that revelation by which it has been perfected. Nor would the work have been considered by him as finished, until on these foundations there had been built an accurate knowledge of the origin, nature and safeguards of government and civil liberty ; of the principles of public and municipal law ; and of the theory of political, commercial, financial, and milita- ry administration j as resulting from the investiga- tions of philosophy, and as exemplified in the lessons both of ancient and of modern history. " I call that," says Miltun, " a complete and gen- 1803. LETTERS, &og LETTER t Ht BEAU CHIL0, 1 am extremely pleased with your translation now it is writ over fair. It is very close to the sense of the original, and done, in many places v/i h much spirit, as well as the numbers not lame, or rough. However an attention to Mr. Pope's numbers will make you avoid some ill sounds, and hobbling of the verse, by only transposing a word or two, in many in- stances. I have, upon reading the Eclogue over a- gain, altered the third, fourth,, and fifth lines, in or- der to bring them nearer to the Latin, as well as to render some beauty which is contained in the repeti- tion of words in tender passages % for example, Nos Patrise fines, et dulcia linquimis arva, Nos Patrian\ fugimus. Tu Tityre lentus in umbra Formosam re- sonare doces Amaryllida Sylvas* We leave our na- tive land, these fields so sweet, Our country leave. At ease, in cool retreat, You Thyrsis bid the woods fair Daphne's name repeat. I will desire you to write over another copy with this alteration, and also XVI to write smoaks in the plural number, in the last line but one. You give me great pleasure, my dear child,, in the progress you have made. I will recommend to Mr. Leech to carry you quite through Virgil's J&- neid from beginning to ending. Pray shew him this letter, with my service to him, and thanks for his care of you. For English poetry, I recommend' Pope's translation of Homer, and Dryden's Fables in particular, I am not sure, if they are not called Tales- instead of Fables. Your cousin, whom I am sure you can overtake if you will, has read Virgil's .iEneid quite through, and much of Horace's Epistles. Ter- ence's plays I would also desire Mr. Leech to make- you perfect master of. Your cousin has read them all. Go on my dear, and you will at least equal him. You are so good that I have nothing to wish but that you may be directed to proper books ; and p trust to your spirit, and desire to be praised for things that deserve praise, for the figure you wilh hereafter make* God bless you my dear child. Your most affectionate uncle* xya LETTER IL Bath, Oct. 12, 1751; MY DEAR NEPHEW, ixS I have been moving about from place to place, your letter reached me here, at Bath, but very lately, after making a considerable circuit to find me. I should have otherwise, my dear child, returned you thanks for the great pleasure you have given me, long before now. The very good account you give me of your studies, and that delivered in very good Lat- in, for your time, has filled me with the highest ex- pectation of your future improvements. I see the foundations so well laid, that I do not make the least doubt but you will become a perfect good scholar ; and have the pleasure and applause that will attend the several advantages hereafter, in the future course of your life, that you can only acquire now by your emulation and noble labours in the pursuit of learn- ing, and of every acquirement that is to make you superior to other gentlemen. I rejoice to hear that you have begun Homer's Iliad ; and have made so great a progress in Virgil. I hope you taste and love those authors particularly. You cannot read them too much -, they are not only the two greatest poets, but they contain the fineft lessons for your age to imbibe ; lessons of honor, courage, disinter- estedness, love of truth, command of temper^ XVIIX gentleness of behaviour^ humanity, and in on# word, virtue in its true signification. Go on, my dear nephew, and drink as deep as you can of these divine springs ; the pleasure of the draught is equal at least to the prodigious advantages of it to the heart and morals. I hope you will drink them as Somebody does in Virgil of another sort of cup. Ille Impiger hausit spumantem Pateram. I shall be highly pleased to hear from you, and to know what authors give you most pleasure. I desire my service to Mr. Leech j pray tell him I will -write- to him soon about your studies. I am 3 with the greatest affection^ My dear child, Your loving uncle. LETTER III. Bath, Jan, 12, 2754, 1 MY DEAR 'NEPHEW,. A OUR letter from Cambridge affords me aiany very sensible pleasures ; first, that you are at last in a proper place for study and improvement, instead of losing any more of that most precious thing, time,, in London. In the next place that you seem pleas- ed with the particular society you are placed in, and -with the gentleman to whose care and instructions you are committed j and above all I applaud the sound 3 right sense, and love of virtue, which appears through your whole letter. You are already possessed of the true clue to guide you through this dangerous and perplexing part of your life's journey, the years of ed- ucation ; and upon which, the complexion of all the rest of your days will infallibly depend ; I say you have the true clue to guide you, in the maxim you lay down in your letter to me, namely, that the use of learning is, to render a man more wise and virtuous y not merely to make him more learned. Macte tua Virtute j Go on rny dear boy, by this golden rule s and you cannot fail to become every thing your gen- erous heart prompts you to wish to be, and that mine most affectionately wishes for you.. There is but one danger in your way ; and that is perhaps, natu- ral enough to your age, love of pleasure, or the fear of close application and laborious diligence. With the last there is nothing you may not conquer j and the first is sure to conquer and inslave whoever does not strenuously and generously risist the first allure- ments of it, lest by small indigencies, he fail under the yoke of irresistable habit. Vitanda est Improba Siren, Desidia, I desire may be affixt to the curtains of your bed, and to the walls of your chambers. If you do not rise early, you never can make any progress worth talking of •, and another rule is, if you do not set apart your hours of reading, and never suffer yourself or any one else to break in upon them, your days will slip through your hands, unproiltably and Hi frivolously ; unpraised by all you wish to please, and really unenjoyable to yourself. Be assured, whatev- er you take from pleasure, amusements, or indolence, for these first few years of your life, will repay you a hundred fold in the pleasures, honours, and ad- vantages of all the remainder of your days. My heart is so full of the most earnest desire that you should do well, that I find my letter has run into some length, which you will, I know, be so good to excuse. There remains now nothing to trouble you with but a little plan for the beginning of your stud- ies, which I desire, m a particular manner, may be exactly followed in every tittle* You are to qualify yourself for the part in society, to which your birth* and estate call you. You are to be a gentleman of such learning- and qualifications as may distinguish you in the service of your country hereafter ', not a pedant, who leads only to be called learned, instead of considering learning as an instrument only for ac- tion. Give me leave therefore, my dear nephew, who have gone before you, to point out to you the dangers in your road \ to guard you against such things, as I experience my own defects to arise from j and at the same time, if I have had any little succes- ses, in the world, to guide you to what I have drawn many helps from. I have not the pleasure of know- ing the gentleman who is your tutor, but I dare say he is every way equal to such a charge,, which I think no small one. You will communicate this letter to him, and I hope he will be so good to concur with 'XXI" &iey as to the course of study I desire you may begin with ; and that such books, and such only, as I have pointed out may be read, They are as follows *, Eu~ clid ; a course of Logic ; a Course of experimental- Phylosophy ; Locke's Conduct of the Understand- ing ; his Treatise also on the Understanding | his Treatise on. Government, and Letters on Tolera- tion. I desire, for the present, no books o£poetry ? but Horace and Virgil ; of Horace the Odes, but a- bove all, the Epistles and Ars Pcetica. These psrts 5 . Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. Tuliy de Officiis, de Amicitia, de Senectute, His Ca~ tilinarian Orations- and Philippics. Sailust. At leisure hours, an abridgment of the History of Eng- land to be run through in order to settle in the mind" a general chronological order, and series of principal events, and succession of kings ; proper books of Eng r lish history, on the trueprinciples of our happy con- stitution, shall be pointed curt afterwards. Burnet's History of the Reformation, abridged by himself, to be read with great care. Father Paul on beneficiary Matters, in English. A French master, and only Moliere's Plays to be read with him, or by yourself^ till you have gone through them all. Spectators, es- pecially Mr. Addison's papers, to be read very fre- quently at broken times in your room. I make it my request that you will forbear drawing, totally, while you are at Cambridge ; and not meddle with Greek, otherwise than to know a little the etymology of words in tatin ? or English, or French s nor to med»- xxxi ife with Italian, I hope this little course will sooit be run through. I intend it as a general foundation for many things, of infinite utility, to come as soon as this is finished. Believe me, With the truest affection. My dear nephew, eyer yours*' ICeep this and read it again* LETTER "IV, Bath, Jan, 14, 17541 MY DEAR NEPHEW* 1 OU will hardly have read over one very- long letter from me before you are troubled 'with a. second. I intended to have written soon, but I do it the sooner on account of your letter to your aunt,, which she transmitted to me here. If any tiring, my dear boy, could have happened to raise you higher in my esteem, and to endear you more to me, it is the amiable abhorrence you feel for the scene of vice and folly, (and of real misery and perdition, under the false notion of pleasure and spirit,) which has opened to you at your college,, and at the same time, the manly, brave, generous, and wise resolution and spirit, with which you resisted and repulsed the first attempts upon 3 mind and hearty I thank Co- : imjfes Itely too firm and noble, as well as too elegant and enlightened, to be in any danger of yielding to such contemptible and wretched corruptions. You charm me with the description of Mr. "Wheler,* and while you say you could adore him, I could adore you for the natural, genuine love of virtue, which speaks in all you feel, say or do. As *o your companions let this be your rule. Cultivate the acquaintance with Mr. Wheler which you have so fortunately begun ; and in general, be sure to associate with men much older than yourself ; scholars whenever you can ; but always with men of decent and honourable lives. As their age and learning, superior both to your own, must necessarily, in good sense, and in the view of acquiring knowledge from them, entitle them to all deference, and submission of your own lights to theirs, you will particularly practise that first and greatest rule for pleasing in conversation, as well as for drawing instruction and improvement from the company of one's superiors in age and knowledge, namely, to be a patient, attentive, and wellbread hearer, and to answer with modesty ; to deliver your own opinions sparingly and with proper diffidence 5 and if you are forced to desire farther information or explanation upon a point, to do it with proper a- oologies for the trouble you give 5 or if obliged to * The Rev. John Wheler, prebendary of Westminister. The friendship formed between this gentleman and Lord Camelford at so early a period of their lives, was founded in mutual esteem, and continued uninterrupted till Lord Camelford's death. differ, to do it with all possible candour, and- an unpre- judiced desire to find and ascertain truth, with an en- tire indifference to the side on which that truth is to be found. There is likewise a particular attention re- quired to contradict with good manners.; such as, begging pardon, begging leave to doubt, and such like phrases. Pythagoras enjoined his scholars an absolute silence for a long noviciate. I am far from approving such a taciturnity ; but I highly recom- mend the end and intent of Pythagoras' s injunction; which is to dedicate the first parts of life more to hear and learn, in order to collect materials, out of which to form opinions founded on. proper lights, and well examined sound principles, than to be presum- ing, prompt, and flippant in hazarding one's own slight crude notions of things ; and thereby exposing the nakedness and emptiness of the mind, like a house opened to company before it is fitted either with ne- cessaries, or any ornaments for their reception and en- tertainment. And net only will this disgrace follow from such temerity and presumption, but a more se- rious danger is sure to ensue, that is, the embracing errors for truths, prejudices for principles ; and when that is once done, (no matter how vainly and weakly,) the adhering perhaps to false and dangerous notions,, only because one has declared for them, and submit- ing, for life, the understanding and conscience to a yoke of base and servile prejudices, vainly taken up •and obstinately retained. This will never be your danger \ but I thought it not 'amiss to offer these re- XXV Sections to your thoughts. As to your manner of be* having towards those unhappy young gentlemen you •describe, let it be manly and easy u decline their par- ties with civility ; retort their raillery with raillery, always tempered with good breeding ; if they ban- ter your regularity, order, decency, and love of study, banter in return their neglect of them ; and ven- ture to own frankly, that you came to Cambridge to •learn what you can, not to follow what they are pleased to call pleasure. In short, let your external behaviour to them be as full of politeness and ease as your inward estimation of them is full of pity, mixed with contempt. I come now to the part of the advice I have to offer to you, which most nearly concerns your welfare, and upon which every good and hon- ourable purpose of your life will assuredly turn ; I -mean the keeping up in your heart the true senti- ments of religion, If you are not right towards God, you can never be -so towards man ; the noblest senti- ment of the human breast is here brought to the test. Is gratitude in the number of a man's virtues ? if it be, the highest benefactor demands the warmest re- turns of gratitude, love, and praise. Ingratum qui dixerit, omnia dixit. If a man wants this virtue where there are infinite obligations to excite and quicken it, he will be likely to want all others towards his fellow creatures, whose Utmost gifts are poor com- pared to those he daily receives at the hands of his never failing Almighty Friend. P^emember thy c XXVI Creator in the days of thy youth, is big with the deep- est wisdom. The fear the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and, an upright heart, that is understand- ing. This is eternally true, whether the wits and rakes of Cambridge allow it or not ; nay, I must add of this religious wisdom, Her ways are ways of pleas- antness, and all her paths are peace, whatever your young gentlemen of pleasure think of a whore and a bottle, a tainted health and battered constitution. Hold fast therefore by this sheet anchor of happiness, Religion ; you will often want it in the times of most danger j the storms and tempests of life. Cher- ish true religion as preciously as you will fly with ab- horrence and contempt superstition and enthusiasm. The first is the perfection and glory of the human nature ; the two last the depravation and disgrace of it. Remember the essence of religion is, a heart void of offence towards God and man •, not subtle speculative opinions, but an active vital principle of faith. The words of a heathen were so fine that 1 must give them to you. Compositum Jus, Fasque, Animi Sanctosque Recessus Mentis, et incoctum gen- eroso Pectus Honesto. Go on, my dear child, in the admirable dispositions you have towards all that is right and good, and make yourself the love and admiration of the world ! I \ W/e neither paper nor words to tell you how tenderly I am yours. xxvn LETTER V, Bath ; Jam 24, 1754. i will lose not a -moment before I return my most tender and warm thanks to the most amia- ble, valuable, and noble minded of youths, for the infinite pleasure his letter gives me. My dear ne-. phew, what a beautiful thing is genuine goodness, and how lovely does the human mind appear, in its native purity, (in a nature as happy as yours,) before the taints of a corrupted world have touched it ! To guard you from the fatal effects of all the dangers that surround and beset youth, (and many they are, nam varise illudunt Pestes,) I thank God, is become my pleasing and very important charge ; your own choice, our nearness in blood, and still more, a dear- er and nearer relation of hearts, which I feel between us, all concur to make it so. I shall seek then every occasion, my dear young friend, of being useful to you by offering you those lights, which one must have lived some years in the world to see the full force and extent of, and which the best mind and clearest understanding will suggest imperfectly, in a- ny case, and in the most difficult, delicate, and essen- XX Villi tidl points perhaps not at all, till experience, that dear bought instructor, comes to our assistance. What I shall therefore make my task, (a happy delightful task, if I prove a safeguard to so much opening vir- tue,) is to be for some years, what you cannot be to yourself, your experience \ experience anticipated, and ready digested for your use. Thus we will en- deavour, my dear child, to join the two best seasons of life, to establish your virtue and your happiness tip on solid foundations j Miscens Autumni et Veris Honores. So much in general. I will now, my dear nephew, say a few things to you upon a matter where you have surprisingly little to learn, consider- ing you have seen nothing but Boconnock 5 I mean behaviour, Behaviour is of infinite advantage or pre- judice to a man, as he happens to have formed it to a graceful, noble, engaging., and proper manner, or to a vulgar, coarse, illbred, or awkward .and ungenteel one. Behaviour, though an external thing which: seems rather to belong to the body than to the mind, is, certainly founded in considerable virtues •, though I have known instances of good men, with something very revolting and offensive in their manner of be- haviour, especially when they have the misfortune to ,be naturally very awkward and ungenteel ; and which their mistaken friends have helped to confirm them in, by telling them, they were above such trifles, as be- ing genteel, dancing, fencing, riding, and doing all manly exercises, with grace and vigour. As if the- XXIX body, because inferior, were not a part of the com- position of man ; and the proper, easy, ready, and graceful use of himself, both in mind and limb, did not go to make up the character of an accomplished man. You are in no danger of falling into this pre- posterous error ; and I had a great pleasure in find- ing you, when I first saw you in London, so' well disposed by nature, and so properly attentive to make yourself genteel in person, and'welibred in behaviour, I am very glad you have taken a fencing mastery that exercise will give you some manly, firm, and graceful attitudes ;. open your chest, place your head upright, and plant you well upon your legs. As to the use of the sword, it is well to know it; but re- member, my dearest nephew, it is a science of de~ fence ; and that a sword can never be employed by the hand of a man of virtue, in any other cause. As to the carriage of your person, be particularly careful, as you are tall and thin, not to get a habit of stooping ; nothing has so poor a look : above ail things avoid contracting any peculiar gesticulation of the body, or movements of the muscles of the face. It is rare to see in any one a graceful laughter ; it is generally better to smile than laugh out, especially to contract a habit of laughing' at small or no jokes. Sometimes it would be affectation, or worse, mere moroseness, not to laugh heartily, when the truly ri- diculous circumstances of an incident, cr the true" pleasantry and wit of a thing, call for and justify it r, XXX But the trick of laughing frivolously is by all means to be avoided ; Risu inepto, Res ineptior nulla est. Now as to politeness ; many have attempted defini- tions of it 5 I believe it is best to be known by de- scription ; definition not being able to comprise it. I would however venture to call it, benevolence in tri- fles, or the preference of others to ourselves in little daily, hourly, occurrences in the commerce of life. A better place, a more commodious seat, priority in being helped at table, &c. what is it, but sacrificing ourselves in such trifles to the convenience and pleas- ure of others ? And this constitutes true politeness. It is a perpetual attention, (by habit it grows easy and natural to us,) to the little wants of those we are with, by which we either prevent, or remove them- Bowing, ceremonious* formal compliments, stiff civilities, will never be politeness ; that must be easy, natural, unstudied, manly, noble.- And what will give this, but a mind benevolent, and per- petually attentive to exert that amiable disposition in trifles towards all you converse and live with ? Benevolence in greater matters takes a higher name,. and is the queen of virtues. Nothing is so in- compatible with politeness as any trick of absence of mind. I would trouble you with a word or two; more upon some branches of behaviour, which have a more serious and obligation in them, than those of mere politeness j which are equally im- portant in the eye of thQ world. I mean a proper XXXI behaviour, adapted to the respective relations we stand in, towards the different ranks of superiors* equals, and inferiors. Let your behaviour towards superiors, in dignity, age, learning, or any distin- guished excellence, be full of respect, deference, and modesty. Towards equals, nothing becomes a man. so well, as well bred ease, polite freedom, generous frankness, manly spirit, always tempered with gen- tleness and sweetness of manner, noble sincerity, candour, and openness of heart, qualified and re- strained within the bounds of discretion and pru- dence, and ever limited by a sacred regard to se- crecy, in all things entrusted to it, and an inviola- ble attachment to your word. To inferiors, gen- tleness, condescension, and affability, is the only dignity. Towards servants, never accustom your- self to rough and passionate language. When they are good we should consider them as humiles Ami- ci, as fellow Christians, ut Conservi ; and when they are bad, pity, admonish, and part with them if incorrigible. On all occasions beware, my child, of anger, that daemon,, that destroyer of our peace* Ira furor brevis est,, animum rege qui nisi paret Xmperat, hunc fnenis hunc tu compesce catenis, "Write soon and tell me of your studies. Your ever affectionate- XXXIf LETTER VF.. Bath 3 Feb. 3, 1754W- N O THING can, or ought to give me higher satisfaction, than the obliging manner in which my dear nephew receives my most sincere and af- fectionate endeavours to be of use to him. You much overrate the obligation, whatever it be;, which youth has to those who have trod the paths of the world before them, for their friendly advice hew to avoid the inconveniences, dangers, and evils, which they themselves may have run upon, for want of such timely warnings, and. to seize, culti- vate, and carry forward towards perfection, those ad- vantages, graces,- virtues, and felicities, which they may have totally missed, . or stopped short in the generous pursuit. To lend this helping hand to those who are beginning to tread the slippery way, seems, at best, but an office of common humanity to all -, but to withhold it, from one we truly love, and whose heart and mind bear every genuine mark of the very soil proper for all the amiable, manly, and generous virtues to take root, and bear their heaven- ly fruit 5 inward, conscious peace,, £ime amount xxxi i r men, public love, temporal and eternal happiness % to withhold it, I say, in such an instance, would de- serve the worst of names* I am greatly pleased, my dear young friend, that you do me the justice to believe I do not mean to impose any yoke of au- thority upon your understanding and conviction. I wish to warn, admonish, instruct, enlighten, and convince your reason ; and so determine your judg- ment to right things, when you shall be made to see that they are right : not to overbear,, and im- pel you. to adopt any thing before you perceive it to be right or wrong, by the force of autho- rity. I hear with great pleasure, that Locke lay- before you, when you wrote last to me ; and I like the observation that you make from him, that we must use our own reason, not that of anoth- er, if we would deal fairly by ourselves, and hope to enjoy a peaceful and contented conscience^ This precept is truly worthy of the dignity of rational natures. But here, my dear child, let me offer one distinction to you, and it is of much moment ; it is this. Mr. Locke's precept is ap- plicable only to such opinions, as regard moral or religious obligations, and which as such, our own consciences alone can judge and determine for ourselves. Matters of mere expediency, that affect neither honour, morality, or religion, were never in that great and wise man's view \ such are the usages, forms* manners, modes, proprieties* x&xir decorums, and all those numberless ornamental lit- tle acquirements, and genteel, wellbred attentions, which constitute a proper, graceful, amiable, and' noble behaviour. In matters of this kind, I am sure, your own reason, to which I shall always refer you, will at once tell you, that you must, at first, make use of the experience of others y in effect, see with their eyes, or not be able to see at all ; for the ways of the world,, as to its usages and exterior manners, as well" as to all" things of expediency and prudential considerations,, a moment's reflection will convince a mind as right as yours, must necessarily be to inexperi- enced youth, with ever so fine natural' parts, a terra incognita. As you would not therefore at- tempt to form notions of China or Fersia but from those who have travelled tliose countries, and the fidelity and sagacity of whose relations you can trust ; so will you, as little,. I trust, prema-- turely form notions of your own, concerning that usage of the world (as it is called) into which you have not yet travelled, and which must be long studied and practiced, before it can be tole- rably well known. I can repeat nothing to you of so infinite consequence to your future welfare,. as to conjure you not to be hasty in taking up notions and opinions. Guard your honest and in- genuous mind against this main danger of youth.. With regard to all things, that appear not to your reason, after due examination, evident duties ef honour, morality, or religion, (and in all such as do, let your conscience and reason, determine your notions and conduct) in all other matters, I say, he slow to form opinions \ keep your mind in a candid state of suspense, and open to full con- viction when you shall procure it, using in the mean time the experience of a friend you can trust, the sincerity of whose advice you will try and prove by your own experience hereafter, when more years shall have given it to you. I have been longer upon this head, than I hope there was any occasion for ; but the great importance of the matter, and my warm wishes for your wel- fare, figure, and happiness, have drawn it from me. I wish to know if you have a good French master. I must recommend the study of the French language, to speak and write it correctly, as to grammar and orthography, as a matter of the ut- most and indispensable use to you, if you would make any figure in the great world. I need say no more to enforce this recommendation. When I get to London, I will send you the best French dictionary. Have you been taught geography and the use of the globes by Mr. Leech ? if not, pray take a geography master and learn the use of the globes ; it is soon known. I recommend to you to acquire a clear and thorough ' notion of what is galled the solar system ; together with the doc- trine of comets. I wanted as much, or more, to hear of your private reading at home, as of public lectures, which I hope however you will frequent for examples sake. Pardon this long letter, and keep it by you if you do not hate it. Believe me } My dear nephew, Ever affectionately* Yours* LETTER VII. Bath, March 30, 1754. vIY DEAR' NEPHEW, 1 AM much obliged to you for your kind remembrance and wishes for my health. It is much recovered by the regular lit of the gout, of which I am lame in both feet, and I may hope for better health hereafter in consequence, I have thought it long since we conversed ; I waited to be able to give you a better account of my health, and in part to leave you time to make advances in your plan of study, of which I am very desirous to hear an account. I desire you will be so good to let me know particularly, if you have gone through the abridgment of Burnet's History of the Refor- mation, and the Treatise of Father Paul on Bene- fices *, also how much of Locke you have read. I beg you not to mix any other English reading with what I recommended to you. I propose to save you much time and trouble, by pointing out to you such books, in succession, as will carry you the shortest way to the things you must know to fit yourself for the business of the world, and give you the clearer knowledge of them, by keeping them unmixed with superfluous, vain, empty trash. Let me hear, my dear child, of your French also ; as well as of those studies which are more prop- erly university studies. I cannot tell you better how truly and tenderly I love you, than by tel- ling you I am most solicitously bent on your do- ing every thing that is right, and laying the foundations of your future happiness and figure In the world, in such a course of improvement, as will not fail to make you a better man, while it makes you a more knowing one. Do you rise early ? I hope you have already made to your- self the habit of doing it j if not, let me con- D XXXVIII jure you to acquire it. Remember your friend Horace. Et ni Posces ante Diem librum cum lumine, si non Intendes animum studiis, et rebus honestis, Invidia vel Amore miser torquebere. Adieu. Tout affectionate uncle. LETTER VIIIc $ath, May 4, 1754, DEAR NEPHEW, X USE a pen with some difficulty, bkr Ing still lame in my hand with the gout. I can* not however delay writing this line to you on the course of English History I propose for you. if you have finished the Abridgment of English History and of Burnet's History of the Reformat tion, I recommend to you next (before any othr er reading of history) Oldeastle's Remarks on the History of England, by Lord Bolingbroke. Let me apprise you of one thing before you read them, and that is, that the author has bent some passages to make them invidious parallels to the £imes he wrote in •, therefore be aware of that ? XXXIX :fhd depend, in general, on finding the truest con- stitutional doctrines •, and that the facts of his- tory (though warped) are no where falsified. I also recommend Nathaniel Bacon's Historical and- Political Observations;* it is, without exception* the best and most instructive book we have on matters of that kind. They are both to be read with much attention and twice over; Oldcastle's Remarks to be studied and almost got by heart, for the inimitable beauty of the style, as well as the matter. Bacon for the matter chiefly; the style being uncouth, but the expression forcible and striking,' I can write no more, and you will hardly read what is written. Adieu, my dear child ,>•■ Your ever affectionate uncle.- * This book, though at present little known, formerly enjoyed a very high reputation. It is written with a very evident bias to tha principles of the parliamentary party to which Bacon adhered ; but contains a great deal of very useful and valuable matter. It was published in two parts, the first in 1647, tne second in 1651, and was secretly reprinted in 16-72, arid again in r68a; for "which, edi- tion the -publisher was indicted and outlawed. After the revolution a fourth edition was printed with an advertisement, asserting, on the authority of Lord Chief Justice Vaughan^ one of Selden's exe- cutors, that the groundwork of this book was laid by that great and learned man. And it is probably on the ground of this asser- tion that in the folio edition of Bacon's book, printed in 1739, ^ * 3 said in the title page to have been " collected from some manuscript notes of John Selden, Esq." But it does not appear that this notion rests on any sufficient evidence. It is however manifest from some expressions in the very unjust and disparaging account given of thi3 work in Nicholson's Historical Library, (part i. p. 150,) that Na- thaniel Bacon was generally considered as an imitator and follower s£ Sebien. XL LETTER IX. Astrop Wells, Sept 5, 1 754, MY DEAR NEPHEW, 1 HAVE been a long time without con- versing with you, and thanking you for the pleas- ure of your last letter. You may possibly be about to return to the seat of learning on the banks of the Cam ; but I will not defer discoursing to you on literary matters till you leave Cornwall, not doubting but you are mindful of the muses- amidst the very savage rocks and moors, and yet more savage natives, of the ancient and re- spectable dutchy. First, with regard to the o- pinion you desire concerning a common place book ; in general, I much disapprove the use of it. It is chiefly intended for persons who mean to be authors, and tends to impair the memory, and to deprive you of a ready, extempore, use of your reading, by accustoming the mind to dis- charge itself of its reading on paper, instead of relying on its natural power of retention, aided and fortified by frequent revisions of its ideas and material Some things must be common placed in order to be of any use ; dates, chronological order and the like m , for instance, Nathaniel Bacon ought to be extracted in the best method you can ; but m general my advice to you is, not to common place upon paper, but as an equivalent to it, to en- deavor to range and methodize in your head what you read, and by so doing frequently and habitually to fix matter in the memory. I de- sired you some time since to read Lord Claren- don's History of the civil wars. I have lately read a much honester and more instructive book, of the same period of history ; it is the History of the Parliament, by Thomas May,*" Esq. &c. I will send it to you as so©n as you return to Cambridge.* If you have not read Burnets's History of his own Times, I beg you will. I koge your father b well.- My love to the girls. Tour ever affectionate^ ** May, tEe translator of iucan, Had Been much countenanced" By Charles the First, but quitted the court on some personal disgust, and afterwards became Secretary to the Parliament. His history was published in 1647 under their authority and licence, and cannot by any means b^ considered as an impar* tial work. It is however well worthy of being attentively read ; and the contemptuous character given of it by Clarendon {Life ■sol. I. p. 55,) is as much below its real merit as Clarendon'* @wu history is superior to it. D % %LU LETTER X. Pay- Office, April 9, 1755. MY DEAR NEPHEW, 1 REJOICE extremely to hear that your fa- ther and the girls are not unentertained in their travels \ in the mean time your travels through the paths of literature, arts, and sciences (a road some- times set with flowers, and sometimes difficult, la- borious, and arduous,) are not only infinitely more profitable in future, but at present, upon the whole, infinitely more delightful. My own travels at pre- sent are none of the pleasantest. I am going through a fit of the gout •, with much proper pain and what proper patience I may. Avis au lecteur, my sweet boy ; remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Let no excesses lay the founda- tions of gout and the rest of Pandora's box ; nor any immoralities, or vicious courses sew the seeds of a too late and painful repentance. Here ends my sermon, which, I trust, you are not fine gen- tleman enough, or in plain English, silly fellow enough, to laugh at. Lady Hester is much yours- Let me hear some account of your intercourse.* with the muses,. 30412 LETTER XL Pay-Office 5 April 6, 1755, MY DEA& NEPHEW 3 A THOUSAND thanks to my dear boy for a very pretty letter. I like extremely the ac« count you give of your literary life *, the reflections you make upon some West-Saxon actors in the times you are reading, are natural, manly, and sensible, and flow from a heart that will make you for superior to any of -them. I am content you should be interrupted (provided the interruption be not long) in the course of your reading by de- claiming in defence of the Thesis you have so wisely chosen to maintain. It is true indeed that the affirmative maxim, Ornne solum forti Patria est, has supported some great and good men under the persecutions of fiction and party injustice, and taught them to prefer an hospitable retreat in a foreign land to an unnatural mother country. Some few such may be found in ancient times ; in our own country also some ; sucn was ii.ger- r.on Sidney, Ludlow and ethers. But hew dan- XhlV gerous is it to trust frail, corrupt man, with sueB" an aphorism I What fatal casuistry is it big with ! How many a villain might, and has, masked him- self in the sayings of ancient illustrious exiles, while he was,, in fact, dissolving all the nearest,, and dearest ties that hold societies together, and spurning at all laws divine and human [ How easy the transition from this political to some impious ecclesiastical aphorisms ! If all soils are alike to the brave and virtuous, so may all churches and modes of worship ; that is, all will be equally neglected and violated •■ Instead of every soil being his country, he will have no one for his country; he will be the forlorn out- cast of mankind* Such was the late Bolingbroke of impious memory. Let me know when your declamation is over. Pardon an observation on style ; 1 1 received, yours' is vulgar and mer- cantile ;, c your letter' is the way of writing. In* close vour letters in a. cs-ver j. it is more polite,, XLV" LETTER XII. Pay-Ofhce, May 20, lj$f Ml DEAR NEPHEW, 1 AM extremely concerned to hear' that you have been ill, especially as your ac- count of an illness, you speak of as past, im- plies such remains of disorder as I beg you will give all proper attention to. By the medicine your physician has ordered, I conceive he con- siders your case in some degree nervous. If that Be so, advise with him whether a little change of air and of the scene, together" with some weeks course of steel waters,, might not be highly proper for you. I am to go- the day after to morrow to Sunning Hill, in Windsor Forest,, where I propose to drink those wa- ters for about a month. Lady Hester and I shall be happy in your company if your doc- tor shall be of opinion that such waters may be of service to you ; which, I hope, will be his opinion. Besides health recovered, the mu- ses shall not be quite forgot ; we will ride, read,. walk, and philosophize, extremely at our ease^ and you may return to Cambridge with new ar- dour, or at least with strength repaired, when we leave Sunning Hill. If you come, the 1 sooner the better, on all accounts. We propose to go into Buckinghamshire in about a month. I rejoice that ycur declamation is over, and that you have begun, my dearest nephew, to open your mouth in public, ingenti Patriae perculsuS Amore* I wish I had heard you perform % the only way I ever shall hear your praises from your own mouth. My gout prevented my so much intended and wished for journey to Cambridge \ and now mj plan of drinking waters renders it impossible. Come then, my dear boy, to us 5. and so Mahomet and the mountain meet 3 no matter which moves to" the other. Adieu. Your ever affectionate.* LETTER XIII. MY DEAR NEPHEW, i HAVE delayed writing to you in ex- pectation of hearing farther from you upon the subject of your stay at College. No news is the- 2C1. TO 'hest news, and I will hope now that all your difficulties upon that head are at an end. I represent you to myself deep in study, and drink- ing large draughts of intellectual nectar; a very delicious state to a mind happy and elevated enough, •to thirst after knowledge and true honest fame, even as the hart panteth after the water brooks. When 1 name knowledge, I even intend learning as the weapon and instrument only of maniy, honourable, and virtuous action, upon the stage of the world both in private and public life; as a gentleman, and as a member of the commonwealth, who is to answer for all he does to the laws of his country, to his own breast and conscience, and at the tribunal of honour and good fame. You, my dear boy, will not only be acquitted, but ap- plauded and dignified at all these respectable and awful bars. So, macte tua virtute ! go on and prosper in your glorious and happy career; not forgetting to walk an hour briskly every mor- ning and evening, to fortify the nerves. I wish •to hear in some little time, of the progress you shall have made in the course of reading chalk- ed out. Adieu, Your ever affectionate uncle. jLady Hester desires her best -compliments to you." LETTER XIV. Stowe, July 24j 1755^ MY DEAR NEPHEW, 1 AM just leaving this place to go to Wotton \ but I will not lose the post, though I have time but for one line. I am extreme- ly happy that you can stay at your college, and pur- sue the prudent and glorious resolution of em- ploying your present moments with a view to the future. May your noble and generous love of virtue pay you with the sweet rewards of a self approving heart and applauding country ! and may I enjoy the true satisfaction of seeing your fame and happiness, and of thinking that I may have been fortunate enough to have con- tributed, in any small degree, to do common justice to kind nature by a suitable education ] I am no very good judge of the question con- cerning the books. I believe they are your own in the same sense that your wearing apparrel is. I would retain them, and leave the candid and equitable Mr to plan, with the honest Mr. .,...., schemes of perpetual vexation. As to the persons just mentioned, I trust that you bear about vou a mind and heart much su- XLIX perior to such malice ; and that you are as little capable of resenting it, with any sensations but those of cool decent contempt, as you are of fearing the consequences of such low efforts. As to the caution money, I think you have done well. The case of the chambers, I conceive, you "likewise apprehend rightly. Let me know in your next what these two articles require you to pay down, and how far your present cash is exhausted, and I will direct Mr. Campbell to give you credit accordingly. Believe me my en interrupted by such gusts of wind as must have rendered the sea too rough an element for a convalescent to disport in. I trust, my dearest nephew, that opening scenes of ^domestic comfort and family affection will con- firm and augment every hour the benefits you .are receiving from Brighthelmston, from external (LX and internal medical assistances. Lady Hester and aunt Mary join with me in all good wish- es for your health and happiness. The duplicate -### mentions having addressed to me, has never come to hand. I am ever yours. LETTER XXIII. St. Jame's Square, Oct. 37, I7J7< SEAE NEPHEW, INCLOSED is a letter from***, which came in one to me. I heartily wish the con- tents may be agreeable to you. I am far from being satisfied, my dearest nephew, with the account your last letter to •my sister gives of your health. I had formed the hope of your ceasing to be an invalid be- fore this time ; but since you must submit to be one for this winter, I am comforted to find your strength is not impaired, as it used to be, by the returns of illness you sometimes feel ; and I trust the good government you are un- der, and the fortitude and manly resignation you are possessed of, will carry you well through this trial of a young man's patience, and bring you out in spring, like gold, the better for the proof. I rejoice to hear you have a friend of great merit to be with you. My warmest wish- es for your health and happiness never fail to follow you. Yours affectionately.