I am extremely glad to hear that you like the assemblies at Venice well enough to sacrifice some suppers to them; for I hear that you do not dislike your suppers neither.  It is therefore plain, that there is somebody or something at those assemblies, which you like better than your meat.  And as I know that there is none but good company at those assemblies, I am very glad to find that you like good company so well.  I already imagine that you are a little, smoothed by it; and that you have either reasoned yourself, or that they have laughed you out of your absences and distractions; for I cannot suppose that you go there to insult them.  I likewise imagine, that you wish to be welcome where you wish to go; and consequently, that you both present and behave yourself there ‘en galant homme, et pas in bourgeois’.

If you have vowed to anybody there one of those eternal passions which I have sometimes known, by great accident, last three months, I can tell you that without great attention, infinite politeness, and engaging air and manners, the omens will be sinister, and the goddess unpropitious.  Pray tell me what are the amusements of those assemblies?  Are they little commercial play, are they music, are they ‘la belle conversation’, or are they all three?  ’Y file-t-on le parfait amour?  Y debite-t-on les beaux sentimens?  Ou est-ce yu’on y parle Epigramme?  And pray which is your department?  ‘Tutis depone in auribus’.  Whichever it is, endeavor to shine and excel in it.  Aim at least at the perfection of everything that is worth doing at all; and you will come nearer it than you would imagine; but those always crawl infinitely short of it whose aim is only mediocrity.  Adieu.

P. S. By an uncommon diligence of the post, I have this moment received yours of the 9th, N. S.

LETTER LXXXVII

London, October 24, O. S. 1749.

Dear boy:  By my last I only acknowledged, by this I answer, your letter of the 9th October, N. S.

I am very glad that you approved of my letter of September the 12th, O. S., because it is upon that footing that I always propose living with you.  I will advise you seriously, as a friend of some experience, and I will converse with you cheerfully as a companion; the authority of a parent shall forever be laid aside; for, wherever it is exerted, it is useless; since, if you have neither sense nor sentiments enough to follow my advice as a friend, your unwilling obedience to my orders as a father will be a very awkward and unavailing one both to yourself and me.  Tacitus, speaking of an army that awkwardly and unwillingly obeyed its generals only from the fear of punishment, says, they obeyed indeed, ’Sed ut qua mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi’.  For my own part, I disclaim such obedience.