LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY DOUWE STUURMAN TT; o o b< >< o X G >< Q b< UNIVERSAL CLASSICS LIBRARY 3; A CGXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO) ILLV5TRATED TTH PHOTOGRAWRE5 ON JAPAN VELLVAV ETCHINGS HAND PAINTED INDIA-PLATE REPRODVCTIONS.AND FULL PAGE PORTRAITS OFAVTHORS. WASHINGTON tr LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY M. WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER LEI ERSTD1IISSON BY THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD on the Fine Art of becoming a MAN OF THE WORLD and a GENTLEMAN IN TWO VOLUMES VOLUME I WITH TOPICAL HEADINGS AND A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY OLIVER H. G. LEIGH M.WALTER DUNME,PUBLISHER WASHINGTON & LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY M. WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER ILLUSTRATIONS VOLUME I DR. JOHNSON IN THE ANTE-ROOM OF LORD CHESTERFIELD'S MANSION Frontispiece Photogravure after the painting by E. M. Ward, R.A. AN AFFAIR OF HONOR 239 Photogravure after the original painting by J. M unsch tf (vii) SPECIAL INTRODUCTION THE proud Lord Chesterfield would have turned in his grave had he known that he was to go down to pos- terity as a teacher and preacher of the gospel of not grace, but * the graces, the graces, the graces. * Natural gifts, social status, open opportunities, and his ambition, all conspired to destine him for high states- manship. If anything was lacking in his qualifications, he had the pluck and good sense to work hard and per- sistently until the deficiency was made up. Something remained lacking, and not all his consummate mastery of arts could conceal that conspicuous want, the want of heart. Teacher and preacher he assuredly is, and long will be, yet no thanks are his due from a posterity of the common people whom he so sublimely despised. His pious mission was not to raise the level of the multitude, but to lift a single individual upon a pedestal so high that his lowly origin should not betray itself. That individual was his, Lord Chesterfield's, illegitimate son, whose inferior blood should be given the true blue hue by concentrating upon him all the externals of aristocratic education. Never had pupil so devoted, persistent, lavish, and bril- liant a guide, philosopher, and friend, for the parental rela- tion was shrewdly merged in these. Never were devotion and uphill struggle against doubts of success more bitterly repaid, Philip Stanhope was born in 1732, when his father was thirty-eight. He absorbed readily enough the solids of the ideal education supplied him, but, by perver- sity of fate, he cared not a fig for <( the graces, the graces, the graces,* which his father so wisely deemed by far the superior qualities to be cultivated by the budding courtier and statesman. A few years of minor services to his coun- try were rendered, though Chesterfield was breaking his x CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS substitute for a heart because his son could not or would not play the superfine gentleman on the paternal model, and then came the news of his death, when only thirty- six. What was a still greater shock to the lordly father, now deaf, gouty, fretful, and at outs with the world, his informant reported that she had been secretly married for several years to Young Hopeful, and was left penniless with two boys. Lord Chesterfield was above all things a practical philosopher, as hard and as exquisitely rounded and polished as a granite column. He accepted the van- ishing of his lifelong dream with the admirable stolidity of a fatalist, and in those last days of his radically arti- ficial life he disclosed a welcome tenderness, a touch of the divine, none the less so for being common duty, shown in the few brief letters to his son's widow and to (< our boys." This, and his enviable gift of being able to view the downs as well as the ups of life in the consoling humorous light, must modify the sterner judgment so easily passed upon his characteristic inculcation, if not practice, of heart less ness. The thirteenth-century mother church in the town from which Lord Chesterfield's title came has a peculiar steeple, graceful in its lines, but it points askew, from whatever quarter it is seen. The writer of these Letters, which he never dreamed would be published, is the best self -portrayed Gentleman in literature. In everything he was naturally a stylist, perfected by assiduous art, yet the graceful steeple is somehow warped out of the beauty of the perpendicular. His ideal Gentleman is the frigid product of a rigid mechanical drill, with the mien of a posture master, the skin-deep graciousness of a French Martchal, the calculat- ing adventurer who cuts unpretentious worthies to toady to society magnates, who affects the supercilious air of a hallow dandy and cherishes the heart of a frog. True, he repeatedly insists on the obligation of truthfulness in all things, and of honor in dealing with the world. His Gentleman may, nay, he must, sail with the stream, gamble in moderation if it is the fashion, must stoop to wear ridiculous clothes and ornaments if they are the mode, though despising his weakness all to himself, and no true Gentleman could afford to keep out of the little gallantries SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xi which so effectively advertised him as a man of spirit and charm. Those repeated injunctions of honor are to be the rule, subject to these exceptions, which transcend the com- mon proprieties when the subject is the rising young gentle- man of the period and his goal social success. If an undercurrent of shady morality is traceable in this Chester- fieldian philosophy it must, of course, be explained away by the less perfect moral standard of his period as compared with that of our day. Whether this holds strictly true of men may be open to discussion, but his lordship's worldly instructions as to the utility of women as stepping-stones to favor in high places are equally at variance with the principles he so impressively inculcates and with modern conceptions of social honor. The externals of good breed- ing cannot be over-estimated, if honestly come by, nor is it necessary to examine too deeply into the prime motives of those who urge them upon a generation in whose eyes matter is more important than manner. Superficial refine- ment is better than none, but the Chesterfield pulpit cannot afford to shirk the duty of proclaiming loud and far that the only courtesy worthy of respect is that politesse de cceur, the politeness of the heart, which finds expression in consideration for others as the ruling principle of conduct. This militates to some extent against the assumption of fine airs without the backing of fine behavior, and if it tends to discourage the effort to use others for selfish ends, it nevertheless pays better in the long run. Chesterfield's frankness in so many confessions of sharp practice almost merits his canonization as a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson has indeed placed him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, an immortality of penance from which no good member of the writers' guild is likely to pray his deliverance. He commends the fine art and high science of dissimulation with the gusto of an apostle and the authority of an expert. Dissimulate, but do not simulate, disguise your real sentiments, but do not falsify them. Go through the world with your eyes and ears open and mouth mostly shut. When new or stale gossip is brought to you, never let on that you know it already, nor that it really interests you. The reading of these Letters is better than hearing the average comedy, in which the wit of a single xii CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS sentence of Chesterfield suffices to carry an act. His man- of-the- world philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of Solomon, but will always be fresh and true, and enjoyable at any age, thanks to his pithy expression, his unfailing common sense, his sparkling wit and charming humor. This latter gift shows in the seeming lapses from his rigid rule requiring absolute elegance of expression at all times, when an un- expected coarseness, in some provincial colloquialism, crops out with picturesque force. The beau ideal of superfineness occasionally enjoys the bliss of harking back to mothei English. Above all the defects that can be charged against the Letters, there rises the substantial merit of an honest effort to exalt the gentle in woman and man above the merely genteel. (< He that is gentil doeth gentil deeds, B runs the mediaeval saying which marks the distinction between the genuine and the sham in behavior. A later age had it thus: <( Handsome is as handsome does,* and in this larger sense we have agreed to accept the motto of William of Wykeham, which declares that <( Manners maketh Man.* CONTENTS VOLUME I Nothing is omitted in this edition, but as the letters written to his son between the age of five and fourteen years are of minor interest, they are given as the Juvenile Section, on page 341. LETTER PAGE I EXCELLENCE is WITHIN MY GRASP i II TRAVEL QUESTIONS 4 III AFFECTION, NATURAL AND ACQUIRED 5 IV WANTON WASTE OF TIME 6 V THE TRUE PLEASURES OF A GENTLEMAN 7 VI BRASS IN PLEASURE MISTAKEN FOR GOLD 9 VII MAN OF THE WORLD AND GENTLEMAN 10 VIII THE AUTHOR AND His WORTHY WORK 13 IX SYSTEM PAYS 14 X TRAVELING WITH OPEN EYES 15 XI OLD-FASHIONED LETTERS 16 XII THE LITTLE HABITS THAT DISTINGUISH THE WELL-BRED 17 XIII VARYING COURT CUSTOMS 19 XIV THE IMPOLICY OF LYING 20 XV ADAPTING ONESELF TO CIRCUMSTANCES 22 XVI ON CHOOSING ONE'S FRIENDS 23 XVII SOCIAL TACTICS 26 XVIII ON KEEPING WIDE-AWAKE 30 XIX EASILY WASTED MINUTES 32 XX UNDERVALUING OTHERS' EXPERIENCE 33 XXI TURNING ODD MOMENTS TO ACCOUNT 36 XXII ON MAKING ONESELF FIT TO LIVE 38 XXIII THE VALUE OF WOMEN'S SOCIETY 39 XXIV THE ART OF USING PEOPLE 41 XXV THE RUDIMENTS OF A POLITICIAN 43 XXVI BREADTH OF VIEW ESSENTIAL TO SOUND JUDGMENT. ... 44 XXVII MAKING ONESELF NECESSARY TO OTHERS 46 XXVIII THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIAL RELATIONS 47 XXIX COMMON-SENSE CURIOSITY PROFITABLE 48 XXX MODESTY ENHANCES INTELLECTUAL SUPERIORITY 51 XXXI IMPORTANCE OF STATISTICAL INFORMATION 54 XXXII AN AMUSING DICTUM ON LAUGHTER 56 XXXIII THE STUDY OF MODERN HISTORY 60 (xiii) XIV CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS LETTER PAGE XXXIV KEEPING NOTE-BOOKS OF TRAVEL 63 XXXV MANNER OF SPEECH AS IMPORTANT AS MATTER 65 XXXVI CULTIVATING AN OPEN MIND 66 XXXVII ABSURD OMNISCIENCE OF SOME PEOPLE 67 XXXVIII FALLACY IN GENERALIZATION 70 XXXIX NATURAL EASE IN PRESENCE OF THE GREAT 74 XL PRACTICAL COUNSEL ON HARD WORK 75 XLI WATCH THE AFFAIRS OF THE WORLD 79 XLII PERILS OF BAD ENUNCIATION 82 XLIII MANNERS MUST ADORN KNOWLEDGE 85 XLIV ATHLETICS LESS VALUABLE THAN MENTAL AGILITY. ... 87 XLV SUPERFICIALITY A MISTAKE 90 XLVI THE KNIGHTLY ORDERS OF EUROPE 93 XLVII ONLY THE IGNORANT AND THE WEAK CAN BE IDLE. ... 97 XLVIII COMMON-SENSE CRITICISM ON HISTORY too XLIX A KEEN STUDY OF THE FEMININE 104 L How DISTANCE AND NUMBERS AFFECT OUR JUDGMENT OF EVENTS 109 LI PAY HOMAGE TO ALL THE GRACES in LII Do AS You WOULD BE DONE BY 115 LIII THE ESSENTIALS OF GOOD COMPANY 121 LIV THE FINE ART OF GOOD TALKING 126 LV THE DIPLOMACY OF SOCIAL INTERCOURSE 131 LVI SECRET OF THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S POWER. . . . 136 LVII DIG DEEP IN THE MINE OF KNOWLEDGE 141 LVIII SOUND ADVICE TO COLLECTORS OF BOOKS 142 LIX BOOKS IN THE MORNING, SOCIETY AT NIGHT 144 LX TAKE PRIDE IN LITTLE PERFECTIONS 147 LXI THE GOLDEN MEAN IN DRESSING WELL 150 LXII THE FOOL AND His MONEY 153 LXIII LOOKING AT WITHOUT SEEING INTO 157 LXIV THE EASY ILLUSIONS OF EARLY PREJUDICE 158 LXV THREEFOLD DIVISION OF THE DAY, STUDY, CONVER- SATION, ENTERTAINMENT 163 LXVI THE CRITICAL YEAR IN A YOUNG MAN'S LIFE 165 LXVII KNOWLEDGE AND MANNERS DO NOT ALWAYS GO TOGETHER 168 LXVIII CURIOUS CHESTERFIELDIAN DELUSION ON THE UNGEN- TLEMANLINESS OF BEING MUSICAL 170 LXIX PLEASURE HEIGHTENED BY A PRELUDE OF HARD WORK 172 LXX THE VULGARITY OF PAINTING THE TOWN RED W AS A SUPPOSED GOOD TIME 174 LXXI THE SCIENTIFIC USE OF FLATTERY AND DISSIMULATION 179 LXXII PICKING UP ODDS AND ENDS OF KNOWLEDGE 184 LXXIII INSIGHT WHEN VIEWING WORKS OF ART 185 LXXIV DIAMONDS AND UNPOLISHED WEARERS OF THEM 187 CONTENTS xv LETTER PAO LXXV IDLENESS THE REFUGE OF WEAK MINDS 190 LXXVI OVER-BATHING AND RHEUMATISM 193 LXXVII DRAWING THE LINK BETWEEN PLEASURE AND VICE. 195 LXXVIII ON MAINTAINING ONE'S PROPER DIGNITY 197 LXXIX DEFTLY HANDLE KNAVES AND FOOLS 200 LXXX How TO TREAT OLD PRETENDERS AND OTHERS 203 LXXXI CHESTERFIELD PORTRAYS HIMSELF, AND THE FOOL OF FASHION 206 LXXXII THE OFFENSIVENESS OF CARELESSNESS 211 LXXXIII SOME EAR-MARKS OF ESSENTIAL VULGARITY 217 LXXXIV THE POLISHING OF AN EDUCATED MAN 220 LXXXV THE TRUE UNDERSTANDING OF CAPITAL CITIES 224 LXXXVI AIM HIGH, YOU SHOOT THE HIGHER FOR IT 227 LXXXVII ONE ADVANTAGE OF A SECOND LANGUAGE 230 LXXXVIII HIGH COURTESY NEVER OUT OF PLACE 232 LXXXIX THE FINISHING TOUCHES WHICH MAKE GOOD MANNERS 237 XC THE ART OF WINNING GOODWILL 239 XCI STYLE; THE STAMP OF A WELL-DRESSED BODY AND MIND 244 XCII THE WORLD JUDGES FIRST BY EXTERNALS 248 XCIII THE DELUSIVE CHARM AND POSSIBLE POWER OF AC- QUIRED ELOQUENCE 252 XCIV APPEAL FIRST TO EYES AND EARS, THEN TO THE JUDGMENT 256 XCV THE ARDENT CHARACTER OF LORD BOLINGBROKE. . . . 258 XCVI WHEN ABROAD BE ABSORBED BY NATIVE WAYS 263 XCVII THE COMPOSITE ANIMAL, MAN, AND His SIMPLER HELP-MATE 265 XCVIII THE GOOD FELLOW BETTER LOVED THAN THE GOOD OR GREAT MAN 269 XCIX WORLDLY WISDOM MORE PROFITABLE THAN KNOWL- EDGE 271 C THE TRUE RELIGIOUSNESS OF RECTITUDE IN DAILY LIFE 275 CI WOMEN OF THE WORLD, THEIR USEFULNESS IF DELI- CATELY MANIPULATED 280 CII THE SUPERIOR ADVANTAGE OF THE LESSER TALENTS. 284 CHI THE GRACES THAT WOMEN LIKE IN MEN 286 CIV WORTHLESS WHIPT-CREAM LITERATURE 289 CV FALSE STANDARDS AND FALSE TASTES IN READING. . 293 CVI THE DIPLOMATIC COURTIER OF GREAT LADIES OF THE COURT 296 CVII INTELLECTUAL CANNIBALISM, DINE THE WISE AND DINE ON THEM 298 CVIII ODIOUS MANNERS THAT POSE AS ODD WAYS 301 CIX COLD FORMALITY NOT TRUE COURTESY 303 XVI CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS CX THE DEXTEROUS METHOD WITH ADVENTURES 305 CXI THE POLICY OF DISCREET RESERVE 309 CXII WOMEN FAVOR THE MAN MOST PRAISED BY MEN 311 CXIII CHATTERING VANITY DEFEATS ITS OWN ENDS 314 CXIV WINNING WAYS MAKE SOCIAL CONQUESTS 317 CXV THE PHILOSOPHY OF PUSH 321 CXVI THE COURT CLASS IN THE SCHOOL OF THE WORLD... 324 CXVII CLEAR SPEAKING STRENGTHENS PLAIN SPEECH 328 CXVIII ADAPTATION TO ONE'S SURROUNDINGS 333 CXIX ALL THE READING THAT A WOMAN NEEDS 335 CXX SELF-CONFIDENCE VEILED BY SEEMING MODESTY 339 CXXI THE PERILS AND LIMITS OF SOWING WILD OATS 343 CXXII TRUE PLEASURE ONLY WHEN ENJOYED WITH DECENCY AND DIGNITY 347 CXXIII SOME TRITE REMINDERS NOT YET OBSOLETE 349 CXXIV THE SCHOOLMASTER'S CRIME, TOLERATION OF BAD SPELLING 354 CXXV ON THE SILLY APING OF ALIEN FADS IN PHRASES AND ACCENT 357 CXXVI IN MATTERS GREAT AND SMALL, AIM TO BE GRACIOUS 361 CXXVII PARISIAN POLISH FOR THE GENTLEMAN OF QUALITY. . 364 CXXVIII THE GIFT OF SAYING DISAGREEABLE THINGS AGREEABLY 367 CXXIX MAKE REASONABLE HASTE BUT NEVER HURRY 373 CXXX THE BALANCE BETWEEN OVER-ASSURANCE AND DIF- FIDENCE 376 CXXXI IN EVERY ACT, STYLE TELLS 379 CXXXII DOCTOR JOHNSON, URSA MAJOR, AS MY LORD CHESTERFIELD SAW HIM 383 CXXXIII GENTLE IN MANNER, STRONG IN PURPOSE 387 CXXXIV THE DEMEANOR OF A GENTLEMAN 390 CXXXV How CHESTERFIELD PERSUADED PARLIAMENT TO REFORM THE CALENDAR 393 CXXXVI THE ART AND SCIENCE OF HAPPY SMALL-TALK 397 CXXXVII ON WRIGGLING INTO FAVOR, PARTICULARLY WITH IMPORTANT MEN 400 CXXXVIII MORALS OF THE PERIOD 403 CXXXIX To TALK ONE'S BEST, WHATEVER THE TOPIC 405 LETTER I BATH, October 9, O. S. 1746. DEAR BOY : Your distresses in your journey from Hei- delberg to Schaffhausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your broken berline, are proper sea- sonings for the greater fatigues and distresses which you must expect in the course of your travels ; and, if one had a mind to moralize, one might call them the samples of the acci- dents, rubs, and difficulties, which every man meets with in his journey through life. In this journey, the understanding is the voiture that must carry you through ; and in proportion as that is stronger or weaker, more or less in repair, your journey will be better or worse ; though at best you will now and then find some bad roads, and some bad inns. Take care, therefore, to keep that necessary voiture in perfect good re- pair; examine, improve, and strengthen it every day: it is in the power, and ought to be the care, of every man to do it ; he that neglects it, deserves to feel, and certainly will feel, the fatal effects of that negligence. A propos of negligence : I must say something to you upon that subject. You know I have often told you, that my af- fection for you was not a weak, womanish one ; and, far from blinding me, it makes me but more quicksighted as to your faults ; those it is not only my right, but my duty to tell you of ; and it is your duty and your interest to correct them. In the strict scrutiny which I have made into you, I have (thank God) hitherto not discovered any vice of the heart, or any pe- culiar weakness of the head: but I have discovered laziness, inattention, and indifference ; faults which are only pardon- able in old men, who, in the decline of life, when health and spirits fail, have a kind of claim to that sort of tranquillity. But a young man should be ambitious to shine, and excel; alert, active, and indefatigable in the means of doing it ; and, like Caesar, Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum. You seem to want that vivida vis animi, which spurs and i (O 2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S excites most young men to please, to shine, to excel. With- out the desire and the pains necessary to be considerable, de- pend upon it, you never can be so; as, without the desire and attention necessary to please, you never can please. Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia, is unquestionably true, with regard to everything except poetry ; and I am very sure that any man of common understanding may, by proper culture, care, attention, and labor, make himself whatever he pleases, except a good poet. Your destination is the great and busy world ; your immediate object is the affairs, the interests, and the history, the constitutions, the customs, and the manners of the several parts of Europe. In this, any man of common sense may, by common application, be sure to excel. Ancient and modern history are, by attention, easily attainable. Geography and chronology the same, none of them requiring any uncommon share of genius or invention. Speaking and Writing, clearly, correctly, and with ease and grace, are certainly to be acquired, by read- ing the best authors with care, and by attention to the best living models. These are the qualifications more particularly necessary for you, in your department, which you may be possessed of, if you please ; and which, I tell you fairly, I shall be very angry at you, if you are not ; because, as you have the means in your hands, it will be your own fault only. If care and application are necessary to the acquiring of those qualifications, without which you can never be con- siderable, nor make a figure in the world, they are not less necessary with regard to the lesser accomplishments, which are requisite to make you agreeable and pleasing in society. In truth, whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well ; and nothing can be done well without attention : I therefore carry the necessity of attention down to the low- est things, even to dancing and dress. Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man ; therefore mind it while you learn it that you may learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act. Dress is of the same nature ; you must dress ; therefore attend to it ; not in order to rival or to excel a fop in it, but in order to avoid singularity, and consequently ridicule. Take great care always to be dressed like the reasonable people of your LETTERS TO HIS SON 3 own age, in the place where you are ; whose dress is never spoken of one way or another, as either too negligent or too much studied. What is commonly called an absent man, is commonly either a very weak, or a very affected man ; but be he which he will, he is, I am sure, a very disagreeable man in company. He fails in all the common offices of civility; he seems not to know those people to-day, whom yester- day he appeared to live in intimacy with. He takes no part in the general conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into it from time to time, with some start of his own, as if he waked from a dream. This (as I said before) is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it is not able to bear above one object at a time ; or so affected, that it would be supposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed to, some very great and important objects. Sir Isaac New- ton, Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five or six more, since the creation of the world, may have had a right to absence, from that intense thought which the things they were in- vestigating required. But if a young man, and a man of the world, who has no such avocations to plead, will claim and exercise that right of absence in company, his pretended right should, in my mind, be turned into an involuntary ab- sence, by his perpetual exclusion out of company. However frivolous a company may be, still, while you are among them, do not show them, by your inattention, that you think them so; but rather take their tone, and conform in some degree to their weakness, instead of manifesting your contempt for them. There is nothing that people bear more impatiently, or forgive less, than contempt ; and an injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult. If, therefore, you would rather please than offend, rather be well than ill spoken of, rather be loved than hated ; remember to have that constant attention about you which flatters every man's little vanity; and the want of which, by mortifying his pride, never fails to excite his resentment, or at least his ill will. For instance, most people (I might say all people) have their weaknesses; they have their aversions and their likings, to such or such things; so that, if you were to laugh at a man for his aversion to a cat, or cheese (which are com- mon antipathies), or, by inattention and negligence, to let 4 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S them come in his way, where you could prevent it, he would, in the first case, think himself insulted, and, in the second, slighted, and would remember both. Whereas your care to procure for him what he likes, and to remove from him what he hates, shows him that he is at least an object of your attention ; flatters his vanity, and makes him pos- sibly more your friend, than a more important service would have done. With regard to women, attentions still below these are necessary, and, by the custom of the world, in some measure due, according to the laws of good-breeding. My long and frequent letters, which I send you, in great doubt of their success, put me in mind of certain papers, which you have very lately, and I formerly, sent up to kites, along the string, which we called messengers ; some of them the wind used to blow away, others were torn by the string, and but few of them got up and stuck to the kite. But I will content myself now, as I did then, if some of my present messengers do but stick to you. Adieu ! LETTER II DEAR BOY : You are by this time (I suppose) quite set- tled and at home at Lausanne; therefore pray let me know how you pass your time there, and what your studies, your amusements, and your acquaintances are. I take it for granted, that you inform yourself daily of the nature of the government and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons; and as I am ignorant of them myself, must ap- ply to you for information. I know the names, but I do not know the nature of some of the most considerable offices there ; such as the Avoyers, the Seizeniers, the Banderets, and the Gros Sautter. I desire, therefore, that you will let me know what is the particular business, department, or prov- ince of these several magistrates. But as I imagine that there may be some, though, I believe, no essential difference, in the governments of the several Cantons, I would not give you the trouble of informing yourself of each of them ; but confine my inquiries, as you may your informations, to the Canton you reside in, that of Berne, which I take to LETTERS TO HIS SON 5 be the principal one. I am not sure whether the Pays de Vaud, where you are, being a conquered country, and taken from the Dukes of Savoy, in the year 1536, has the same share in the government of the Canton, as the German part of it has. Pray inform yourself and me about it. I have this moment received yours from Berne, of the 2d October, N. S. and also one from Mr. Harte, of the same date, under Mr. Burnaby's cover. I find by the latter, and indeed I thought so before, that some of your letters and some of Mr. Harte 's have not reached me. Wherefore, for the future, I desire, that both he and you will direct your letters for me, to be left chez Monsieur Walters, Agent de S. M. Britannique, d, Rotterdam, who will take care to send them to me safe. The reason why you have not re- ceived letters either from me or from Grevenkop was that we directed them to Lausanne, where we thought you long ago : and we thought it to no purpose to direct to you upon your ROUTE, where it was little likely that our letters would meet with you. But you have, since your arrival at Lausanne, I believe, found letters enough from me ; and it may be more than you have read, at least with attention. I am glad that you like Switzerland so well; and am impatient to hear how other matters go, after your settle- ment at Lausanne. God bless you! LETTER III LONDON, December 2, O. S. 1746. DEAR BOY: I have not, in my present situation,* time to write to you, either so much or so often as I used, while I was in a place of much more leisure and and profit ; but my affection for you must not be judged of by the number of my letters ; and, though the one lessens, the other, I assure you, does not. I have just now received your letter of the 35th past, N. S., and, by the former post, one from Mr. Harte; with both which I am very well pleased: with Mr. Harte's, for the *His Lordship was, in the year 1746, appointed one of his Majesty's secretaries of state. 6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S good account which he gives me of you; with yours, for the good account which you gave me of what I desired to be informed of. Pray continue to give me further informa- tion of the form of government of the country you are now in ; which I hope you will know most minutely before you leave it. The inequality of the town of Lausanne seems to be very convenient in this cold weather; because going up hill and down will keep you warm. You say there is a good deal of good company ; pray, are you got into it ? Have you made acquaintances, and with whom ? Let me know some of their names. Do you learn German yet, to read, write, and speak it? Yesterday, I saw a letter from Monsieur Bochat to a friend of mine ; which gave me the greatest pleasure that I have felt this great while ; because it gives so very good an account of you. Among other things which Monsieur Bochat says to your advantage, he mentions the tender uneasiness and concern that you showed during my illness, for which (though I will say that you owe it to me) I am obliged to you: sentiments of gratitude not being universal, nor even common. As your affection for me can only proceed from your experience and conviction of my fondness for you (for to talk of natural affection is talking nonsense), the only return I desire is, what it is chiefly your interest to make me ; I mean your invariable practice of virtue, and your indefatigable pursuit of knowledge. Adieu! and be persuaded that I shall love you extremely, while you deserve it ; but not one moment longer. LETTER IV LONDON, December 9, O. S., 1746. DEAR BOY : Though I have very little time, and though I write by this post to Mr. Harte, yet I cannot send a packet to Lausanne without a word or two to yourself. I thank you for your letter of congratulation which you wrote me, notwithstanding the pain it gave you. The accident that caused the pain was, I presume, owing to that degree of giddiness, of which I have sometimes LETTERS TO HIS SON 7 taken the liberty to speak to you. The post I am now in, though the object of most people's views and desires, was in some degree inflicted upon me ; and a certain concurrence of circumstances obliged me to engage in it. But I feel that to go through with it requires more strength of body and mind than I have : were you three or four years older, you should share in my trouble, and I would have taken you into my office ; but I hope you will employ these three or four years so well as to make yourself capable of being of use to me, if I should continue in it so long. The read- ing, writing, and speaking the modern languages correctly ; the knowledge of the laws of nations, and the particular constitution of the empire ; of history, geography, and chronology, are absolutely necessary to this business, for which I have always intended you. With these qualifications you may very possibly be my successor, though not my immediate one. I hope you employ your whole time, which few people do ; and that you put every moment to profit of some kind or other. I call company, walking, riding, etc., employing one's time, and, upon proper occasions, very usefully ; but what I cannot forgive in anybody is sauntering, and doing nothing at all, with a thing so precious as time, and so irrecoverable when lost. Are you acquainted with any ladies at Lausanne? and do you behave yourself with politeness enough to make them desire your company? I must finish : God bless you ! LETTER V LONDON, February 24, O. S. 1747. SIR : In order that we may, reciprocally, keep up our French, which, for want of practice, we might forget, you will permit me to have the honor of assuring you of my respects in that language: and be so good to answer me in the same. Not that I am apprehensive of your forgetting to speak French : since it is probable that two-thirds of your daily prattle is in that language ; and 8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S because, if you leave off writing French, you may perhaps neglect that grammatical purity, and accurate orthography, which, in other languages, you excel in; and really, even in French, it is better to write well than ill. However, as this is a language very proper for sprightly, gay subjects-, I shall conform to that, and reserve those which are serious for English. I shall not therefore mention to you, at present, your Greek or Latin, your study of the Law of Nature, or the Law of Nations, the Rights of People, or of Individ- uals ; but rather discuss the subject of your Amusements and Pleasures; for, to say the truth, one must have some. May I be permitted to inquire of what nature yours are? Do they consist in little commercial play at cards in good com- pany? are they little agreeable suppers, at which cheerful- ness and decency are united? or, do you pay court to some fair one, who requires such attentions as may be of use in contributing to polish you? Make me your confidant upon this subject; you shall not find a severe censor: on the con- trary, I wish to obtain the employment of minister to your pleasures: I will point them out, and even contribute to them. Many young people adopt pleasures, for which they have not the least taste, only because they are called by that name. They often mistake so totally, as to imagine that debauchery is pleasure. You must allow that drunkenness, which is equally destructive to body and mind, is a fine pleasure. Gaming, that draws you into a thousand scrapes, leaves you penniless, and gives you the air and manners of an outrage- ous madman, is another most exquisite pleasure; is it not? As to running after women, the consequences of that vice are only the loss of one's nose, the total destruction of health, and. not unfrequently, the being run through the body. These, you see, are all trifles; yet this is the catalogue of pleasures of most of those young people, who never reflect- ing themselves, adopt, indiscriminately, what others choose to call by the seducing name of pleasure. I am thoroughly persuaded you will not fall into such errors ; and that, in the choice of your amusements, you will be directed by reason, and a discerning taste. The true pleasures of a gentleman are those of the table, but within the bound of moderation; good company, that is to say, people of merit; LETTERS TO HIS SON 9 moderate play, which amuses, without any interested views; and sprightly gallant conversations with women of fashion and sense. These are the real pleasures of a gentleman; which occa- sion neither sickness, shame, nor repentance. Whatever exceeds them, becomes low vice, brutal passion, debauchery, and insanity of mind ; all of which, far from giving satis- faction, bring on dishonor and disgrace. Adieu. LETTER VI LONDON, March 6, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : Whatever you do, will always affect me, very sensibly, one way or another; and I am now most agreeably affected, by two letters, which I have lately seen from Lausanne, upon your subject ; the one from Madame St. Germain, the other from Monsieur Pampigny : they both give so good an account of you, that I thought myself obliged, in justice both to them and to you, to let you know it. Those who deserve a good character, ought to have the satisfaction of knowing that they have it, both as a reward and as an encouragement. They write, that you are not only d'Zcrottt, but tolerably well-bred ; and that the English crust of awkward bashfulness, shyness, and roughness (of which, by the bye, you had your share) is pretty well rubbed off. I am most heartily glad of it; for, as I have often told you, those lesser talents, of an engag- ing, insinuating manner, an easy good-breeding, a genteel behavior and address, are of infinitely more advantage than they are generally thought to be, especially here in England. Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic value : but if they are not polished, they certainly lose a great deal of their luster ; and even polished brass will pass upon more people than rough gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, easy good-breeding of the French frequently cover? Many of them want common sense, many more common learning; but in general, they make up so much by their manner, for those defects, that frequently they pass undis- covered. I have often said, and do think, that a Frenchman, io LORD CHESTERFIELD'S who, with a fund of virtue, learning and good sense, has the manners and good-breeding of his country, is the per- fection of human nature. This perfection you may, if you please, and I hope you will, arrive at. You know what virtue is: you may have it if you will; it is in every man's power; and miserable is the man who has it not. Good sense God has given you. Learning you already possess enough of, to have, in a reasonable time, all that a man need have. With this, you are thrown out early into the world, where it will be your own fault if you do not acquire all the other accomplishments necessary to complete and adorn your character. You will do well to make your compliments to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur Pam- pigny ; and tell them, how sensible you are of their partiality to you, in the advantageous testimonies which, you are informed, they have given of you here. Adieu. Continue to deserve such testimonies; and then you will not only deserve, but enjoy my truest affection. LETTER VII LONDON, March 27, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: Pleasure is the rock which most young peo- ple split upon : they launch out with crowded sails in quest of it, but without a compass to direct their course, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel ; for want of which, pain and shame, instead of pleasure, are the returns of their voyage. Do not think that I mean to snarl at pleasure, like a Stoic, or to preach against it, like a par- son; no, I mean to point it out, and recommend it to you, like an Epicurean: I wish you a great deal; and my only view is to hinder you from mistaking it. The character which most young men first aim at, is that of a man of pleasure; but they generally take it upon trust; and instead of consulting their own taste and inclinations, they blindly adopt whatever those with whom they chiefly converse, are pleased to call by the name of pleasure ; and a man of pleasure in the vulgar acceptation of that phrase, means only, a beastly drunkard, an abandoned whoremaster, LETTERS TO HIS SON u and a profligate swearer and curser. As it may be of use to you, I am not unwilling, though at the same time ashamed to own, that the vices of my youth proceeded much more from my silly resolution of being, what I heard called a man of pleasure, than from my own inclinations. I always naturally hated drinking ; and yet I have often drunk, with disgust at the time, attended by great sickness the next day, only because I then considered drinking as a necessary qual- ification for a fine gentleman, and a man of pleasure. The same as to gaming. I did not want money, and consequently had no occasion to play for it ; but I thought play another necessary ingredient in the composition of a man of pleasure, and accordingly I plunged into it without desire, at first; sacrificed a thousand real pleasures to it; and made myself solidly uneasy by it, for thirty the best years of my life. I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to swear, by way of adorning and completing the shining character which I affected ; but this folly I soon laid aside, upon finding both the guilt and the indecency of it. Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting nominal pleasures, I lost real ones ; and my fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I must confess, the just pun- ishment of my errors. Take warning then by them : choose your pleasures for yourself, and do not let them be imposed upon you. Fol- low nature and not fashion : weigh the present enjoyment of your pleasures against the necessary consequences of them, and then let your own common sense determine your choice. Were I to begin the world again, with the experience which I now have of it, I would lead a life of real, not of imaginary pleasures. I would enjoy the pleasures of the table, and of wine; but stop short of the pains inseparably annexed to an excess of either. I would not, at twenty years, be a preaching missionary of abstemiousness and sobriety ; and I should let other people do as they would, without formally and sententiously rebuking them for it ; but I would be most firmly resolved not to destroy my own faculties and constitution ; in complaisance to those who have no regard to their own. I would play to give me pleasure, but not to give me pain; that is, I would play for 12 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S trifles, in mixed companies, to amuse myself, and conform to custom; but I would take care not to venture for sums; which, if I won, I should not be the better for; but, if I lost, should be under a difficulty to pay: and when paid, would oblige me to retrench in several other articles. Not to mention the quarrels which deep play commonly occa- sions. I would pass some of my time in reading, and the rest in the company of people of sense and learning, and chiefly those above me ; and I would frequent the mixed companies of men and women of fashion, which, though often frivo- lous, yet they unbend and refresh the mind, not uselessly, because they certainly polish and soften the manners. These would be my pleasures and amusements, if I were to live the last thirty years over again; they are rational ones ; and, moreover, I will tell you, they are really the fashionable ones; for the others are not, in truth, the pleas- ures of what I call people of fashion, but of those who only call themselves so. Does good company care to have a man reeling drunk among them ? Or to see another tear- ing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost, at play, more than he is able to pay? Or a whoremaster with half a nose, and crippled by coarse and infamous debauchery? No ; those who practice, and much more those who brag of them, make no part of good company; and are most un- willingly, if ever, admitted into it. A real man of fashion and pleasures observes decency : at least neither borrows nor affects vices : and if he unfortunately has any, he gratifies them with choice, delicacy, and secrecy. I have not mentioned the pleasures of the mind (which are the solid and permanent ones), because they do not come under the head of what people commonly call pleas- ures ; which they seem to confine to the senses. The pleasure of ^virtue, of charity, and of learning is true and lasting pleasure; with which I hope you will be well and long acquainted. Adieu! LETTERS TO HIS SON 13 LETTER VIII LONDON, April 3, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: If I am rightly informed, I am now writ- ing to a fine gentleman, in a scarlet coat laced with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other suitable or- naments. The natural partiality of every author for his own works makes me very glad to hear that Mr. Harte has thought this last edition of mine worth so fine a bind- ing; and, as he has bound it in red, and gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care that it shall be LETTERED too. A showish binding attracts the eyes, and engages the attention of everybody ; but with this difference, that women, and men who are like women, mind the binding more than the book ; whereas men of sense and learning immediately examine the inside; and if they find that it does not answer the finery on the outside, they throw it by with the greater indignation and contempt. I hope that, when this edition of my works shall be opened and read, the best judges will find connection, consistency, solidity, and spirit in it. Mr. Harte may recenserc and emendare, as much as he pleases ; but it will be to little purpose, if you do not co- operate with him. The work will be imperfect. I thank you for your last information of our success in the Mediterranean, and you say very rightly that a secre- tary of state ought to be well informed. I hope, therefore, you will take care that I shall. You are near the busy scene in Italy ; and I doubt not but that, by frequently looking at the map, you have all that theatre of the war very perfect in your mind. I like your account of the salt works ; which shows that you gave some attention while you were seeing them. But notwithstanding that, by your account, the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt to suspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic salt in which there was a peculiar quickness and delicacy. That same Attic salt seasoned almost all Greece, except Boeotia, and a great deal of it was exported afterward to Rome, where it was coun- terfeited by a composition called Urbanity, which in some time was brought to very near the perfection of the orig- I 4 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S inal Attic salt. The more you are powdered with these two kinds of salt, the better you will keep, and the more you will be relished. Adieu! My compliments to Mr. Harte and Mr. Eliot. LETTER IX LONDON, April 14, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : If you feel half the pleasure from the con- sciousness of doing well, that I do from the inform- ations I have lately received in your favor from Mr. Harte, I shall have little occasion to exhort or admonish you any more to do what your own satisfaction and self- love will sufficiently prompt you to. Mr. Harte tells me that you attend, that you apply to your studies ; and that beginning to understand, you begin to taste them. This pleasure will increase, and keep pace with your attention; so that the balance will be greatly to your advantage. You may remember, that I have always earnestly recommended to you, to do what you are about, be that what it will ; and to do nothing else at the same time. Do not imagine that I mean by this, that you should attend to and plod at your book all day long; far from it; I mean that you should have your pleasures too ; and that you should attend to them for the time, as much as to your studies ; and, if you do not attend equally to both, you will neither have improvement nor satisfaction from either. A man is fit for neither business nor pleasure, who either cannot, or does not, command and direct his attention to the present ob- ject, and, in some degree, banish for that time all other objects from his thoughts. If at a ball, a supper, or a party of pleasure, a man were to be solving, in his own mind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bad com- panion, and make a very poor figure in that company; or if, in studying a problem in his closet, he were to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that he would make a very poor mathematician. There is time enough for everything, in the course of the day, if you do but one thing at once ; but there is not time enough in the year, if you will do LETTERS TO HIS SON 15 two things at a time. The Pensionary de Witt, who was torn to pieces in the year 1672, did the whole business of the Republic, and yet had time left to go to assemblies in the evening, and sup in company. Being asked how he could possibly find time to go through so much business, and yet amuse himself in the evenings as he did, he an- swered, there was nothing so easy ; for that it was only doing one thing at a time, and never putting off anything till to-morrow that could be done to-day. This steady and undissipated attention to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius; as hurry, bustle, and agitation are the never-failing symptoms of a weak and frivolous mind. When you read Horace, attend to the justness of his thoughts, the happiness of his diction, and the beauty of his poetry; and do not think of Puffendorf de Homine et Cive; and, when you are reading Puffendorf, do not think of Madame de St. Germain ; nor of Puffendorf, when you are talking to Madame de St. Germain. Mr. Harte informs me, that he has reimbursed you of part of your losses in Germany ; and I consent to his re- imbursing you of the whole, now that I know you deserve it. I shall grudge you nothing, nor shall you want any- thing that you desire, provided you deserve it; so that you see, it is in your own power to have whatever you please. There is a little book which you read here with Monsieur Coderc entitled, Manitre de bien penser dans les Outrages d* Esprit, written by P6re Bonhours. I wish you would read this book again at your leisure hours, for it will not only divert you, but likewise form your taste, and give you a just manner of thinking. Adieu! LETTER X LONDON, June 30, O. S. 1747. DBAR Boy: I was extremely pleased with the account which you gave me in your last, of the civilities that you received in your Swiss progress ; and I have written, by this post, to Mr. Burnaby, and to the Avoyer, to thank them for their parts. If the attention you met 16 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S with pleased you, as I dare say it did, you will, I hope, draw this general conclusion from it, that attention and civility please all those to whom they are paid ; and that you will please others in proportion as you are attentive and civil to them. Bishop Burnet has wrote his travels through Switzerland ; and Mr. Stanyan, from a long residence there, has written the best account, yet extant, of the Thirteen Cantons; but those books will be read no more, I presume, after you shall have published your account of that country. I hope you will favor me witTi one of the first copies. To be serious ; though I do not desire that you should immediately turn author, and oblige the world with your travels; yet, wherever you go, I would have you as curious and in- quisitive as if you did intend to write them. I do not mean that you should give yourself so much trouble, to know the number of houses, inhabitants, signposts, and tombstones, of every town that you go through ; but that you should inform yourself, as well as your stay will per- mit you, whether the town is free, or to whom it belongs, or in what manner : whether it has any peculiar privileges or customs; what trade or manufactures; and such other particulars as people of sense desire to know. And there would be no manner of harm if you were to take mem- orandums of such things in a paper book to help your memory. The only way of knowing all these things is to keep the best company, who can best inform you of them. I am just now called away ; so good night. LETTER XI LONDON, July 20, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: In your Mamma's letter, which goes here inclosed, you will find one from my sister, to thank you for the Arquebusade water which you sent her; and which she takes very kindly. She would not show me her letter to you; but told me that it contained good wishes and good advice ; and, as I know she will show LETTERS TO HIS SON 17 your letter in answer to hers, I send you here inclosed the draught of the letter which I would have you write to her. I hope you will not be offended at my offering you my as- sistance upon this occasion; because, I presume, that as yet, you are not much used to write to ladies. A propos of letter-writing, the best models that you can form yourself upon are, Cicero, Cardinal d'Ossat, Madame Sevign6, and Comte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero's Epistles to Atticus, and to his familiar friends, are the best examples that you can imitate, in the friendly and the familiar style. The sim- plicity and the clearness of Cardinal d'Ossat's letters show how letters of business ought to be written ; no affected turns, no attempts at wit, obscure or perplex his matter; which is always plainly and clearly stated, as business always should be. For gay and amusing letters, for enjoue- ment and badinage, there are none that equal Comte Bussy 's and Madame Sevign's. They are so natural, that they seem to be the extempore conversations of two people of wit, rather than letters which are commonly studied, though they ought not to be so. I would advise you to let that book be one in your itinerant library; it will both amuse and inform you. I have not time to add any more now; so good night. LETTER XII LONDON, July 30, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: It is now four posts since I have received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Harte. I impute this to the rapidity of your travels through Switzerland; which I suppose are by this time finished. You will have found by my late letters, both to you and Mr. Harte, that you are to be at Leipsig by next Michael- mas; where you will be lodged in the house of Professor Mascow, and boarded in the neighborhood of it, with some young men of fashion. The professor will read you lec- tures upon Grotius de Jure Belli et Pads, the Institutes of Justinian and the Jus Publicum Imperii ; which I i8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S expect that you shall not only hear, but attend to, and retain. I also expect that you make yourself perfectly master of the German language; which you may very soon do there, if you please. I give you fair warning, that at Leipsig I shall have an hundred invisible spies about you ; and shall be exactly informed of everything that you do, and of almost everything that you say. I hope that, in conse- quence of those minute informations, I may be able to say of you, what Velleius Paterculus says of Scipio; that in his whole life, nihil non laudandum out dixit, aut fecit, aut sensit. There is a great deal of good company in Leipsig, which I would have you frequent in the evenings, when the studies of the day are over. There is likewise a kind of court kept there, by a Duchess Dowager of Courland; at which you should get introduced. The King of Poland and his Court go likewise to the fair at Leipsig twice a year; and I shall write to Sir Charles Williams, the king's minister there, to have you presented, and introduced into good company. But I must remind you, at the same time, that it will be to a very little purpose for you to frequent good company, if you do not conform to, and learn their manners ; if you are not attentive to please, and well bred, with the easiness of a man of fashion. As you must at- tend to your manners, so you must not neglect your person; but take care to be very clean, well dressed, and genteel; to have no disagreeable attitudes, nor awkward tricks; which many people use themselves to, and then cannot leave them off. Do you take care to keep your teeth very clean, by washing them constantly every morning, and after every meal? This is very necessary, both to preserve your teeth a great while, and to save you a great deal of pain. Mine have plagued me long, and are now falling out, merely from want of care when I was your age. Do you dress well, and not too well? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting yourself enough, and not too much? Neither negligent nor stiff? All these things deserve a de- gree of care, a second-rate attention ; they give an- additional lustre to real merit. My Lord Bacon says, that a pleasing figure is a perpetual letter of recommendation. It is certainly an agreeable forerunner of merit, and smoothes the way for it. LETTERS TO HIS SON 19 Remember that I shall see you at Hanover next summer, and shall expect perfection; which if I do not meet with, or at least something very near it, you and I shall not be very well together. I shall dissect and analyze you with a microscope ; so that I shall discover the least speck or blem- ish. This is fair warning; therefore take your measures accordingly. Yours. LETTER XIII LONDON, August 21, O. S. 1747. DKAR BOY : I reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding you at Lausanne; but I was re- solved to risk it, as it is the last that I shall write to you till you are settled at Leipsig. I sent you by the last post, under cover to Mr. Harte, a letter of recommen- dation to one of the first people at Munich; which you will take care to present to him in the politest manner ; he will certainly have you presented to the electoral family; and I hope you will go through that ceremony with great respect, good breeding, and ease. As this is the first court that ever you will have been at, take care to inform yourself if there be any particular customs or forms to be observed, that you may not commit any mistake. At Vienna men always make courtesies, instead of bows, to the emperor; in France nobody bows at all to the king, nor kisses his hand; but in Spain and England, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Thus every court has some peculiarity or other, of which those who go to them ought previously to inform themselves, to avoid blunders and awkwardnesses. I have not time to say any more now, than to wish you a good journey to Leipsig; and great attention, both there and in going there. Adieu. 20 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER XIV LONDON, September 21, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : I received, by the last post, your letter of the 8th, N. S., and I do not wonder that you are surprised at the credulity and superstition of the Papists at Einsiedlen, and at their absurd stories of their chapel. But remember, at the same time, that errors and mistakes, however gross, in matters of opinion, if they are sincere, are to be pitied, but not punished nor laughed at. The blindness of the understanding is as much to be pitied as the blindness of the eye; and there is neither jest nor guilt in a man's losing his way in either case. Charity bids us set him right if we can, by arguments and persua- sions ; but charity, at the same time, forbids, either to punish or ridicule his misfortune. Every man's reason is, and must be, his guide; and I may as well expect that every man should be of my size and complexion, as that he should reason just as I do. Every man seeks for truth ; but God only knows who has found it. It is, therefore, as unjust to persecute, as it is absurd to ridicule, people for those several opinions, which they cannot help entertaining upon the conviction of their reason. It is the man who tells, or who acts a lie, that is guilty, and not he who honestly and sincerely believes the lie. I really know nothing more criminal, more mean, and more ridiculous than lying. It is the production either of malice, cowardice, or vanity; and generally misses of its aim in every one of these views; for lies are always detected sooner or later. If I tell a mali- cious lie, in order to affect any man's fortune or character, I may indeed injure him for some time ; but I shall be sure to be the greatest sufferer myself at last ; for as soon as ever I am detected (and detected I most certainly shall be), I am blasted for the infamous attempt ; and whatever is said afterward, to the disadvantage of that person, however true, passes for calumny. If I lie, or equivocate (for it is the same thing) , in order to excuse myself for something that I have said or done, and to avoid the danger and the shame LETTERS TO HIS SON 21 tliat I apprehend from it, I discover at once my fear as well as my falsehood; and only increase, instead of avoid- ing, the danger and the shame ; I show myself to be the lowest and the meanest of mankind, and am sure to be always treated as such. Fear, instead of avoiding, invites danger ; for con- cealed cowards will insult known ones. If one has had the misfortune to be in the wrong, there is something noble in frankly owning it; it is the only way of atoning for it, and the only way of being forgiven. Equivocating, evad- ing, shuffling, in order to remove a present danger or in- con veniency, is something so mean, and betrays so much fear, that whoever practices them always deserves to be, and often will be kicked. There is another sort of lies, inoffensive enough in themselves, but wonderfully ridicu- lous; I mean those lies which a mistaken vanity suggests, that defeat the very end for which they are calculated, and terminate in the humiliation and confusion of their author, who is sure to be detected. These are chiefly narrative and historical lies, all intended to do infinite honor to their author. He is always the hero of his own romances; he has been in dangers from which nobody but himself ever escaped; he has seen with his own eyes, whatever other people have heard or read of: he has had more bonnes fortunes than ever he knew women ; and has ridden more miles post in one day, than ever courier went in two. He is soon discovered, and as soon becomes the object of uni- versal contempt and ridicule. Remember, then, as long as you live, that nothing but strict truth can carry you through the world, with either your conscience or your honor un- wounded. It is not only your duty, but your interest ; as a proof of which you may always observe, that the greatest fools are the greatest liars. For my own part, I judge of every man's truth by his degree of understanding. This letter will, I suppose, find you at Leipsig; where I expect and require from you attention and accuracy, in both which you have hitherto been very deficient. Re- member that I shall see you in the summer; shall examine you most narrowly; and will never forget nor forgive those faults, which it has been in your own power to prevent or cure; and be assured that I have many eyes upon you at Leipsig, besides Mr. Harte's. Adieu ! 22 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S "LETTER XV LONDON, October 2, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: By your letter of the i8th past, N. S M I find that you are a tolerably good landscape painter, and can present the several views of Switzerland to the curious. I am very glad of it, as it is a proof of some attention ; but I hope you will be as good a portrait painter, which is a much more noble science. By portraits, you will easily judge, that I do not mean the outlines and the coloring of the human figure ; but the inside of the heart and mind of man. This science requires more atten- tion, observation, and penetration, than the other; as in- deed it is infinitely more useful. Search, therefore, with the greatest care, into the characters of those whom you converse with ; endeavor to discover their predominant pas- sions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their fol- lies, and their humors, with all the right and wrong, wise and silly springs of human actions, which make such in- consistent and whimsical beings of us rational creatures. A moderate share of penetration, with great attention, will infallibly make these necessary discoveries. This is the true knowledge of the world ; and the world is a country which nobody ever yet knew by description ; one must travel through it one's self to be acquainted with it. The scholar, who in the dust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, than that orator did of war, who judiciously endeavored to instruct Hannibal in it. Courts and camps are the only places to learn the world in. There alone all kinds of characters resort, and human nature is seen in all the various shapes and modes, which education, custom, and habit give it ; whereas, in all other places, one local mode generally prevails, and producing a seeming though not a real sameness of character. For ex- ample, one general mode distinguishes an university, another a trading town, a third a seaport town, and so on; whereas, at a capital, where the Prince or the Supreme Power resides, some of all these various modes are to be seen, and seen in action too, exerting their utmost skill in LETTERS TO HIS SON 23 pursuit of their several objects. Human nature is the same all over the world; but its operations are so varied by education and habit, that one must see it in all its dresses in order to be intimately acquainted with it. The passion of ambition, for instance, is the same in a courtier, a soldier, or an ecclesiastic ; but, from their dif- ferent educations and habits, they will take very different methods to gratify it. Civility, which is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others, is essentially the same in every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which is the manner of exerting that disposition, is different in almost every country, and merely local ; and every man of sense imitates and conforms to that local good-breed- ing of the place which he is at. A conformity and flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world; that is, with regard to all things which are not wrong in themselves. The versatile ingenium is the most useful of all. It can turn itself instantly from one object to another, assuming the proper manner for each. It can be serious with the grave, cheerful with the gay, and trifling with the frivo- lous. Endeavor by all means, to acquire this talent, for it is a very great one. As I hardly know anything more useful, than to see, from time to time, pictures of one's self drawn by dif- ferent hands, I send you here a sketch of yourself, drawn at Lausanne, while you were there, and sent over here by a person who little thought that it would ever fall into my hands: and indeed it was by the greatest accident in the world that it did. LETTER XVI LONDON, October 9, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY : People of your age have, commonly, an unguarded frankness about them ; which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the ex- perienced ; they look upon every knave or fool, who tells them that he is their friend, to be really so ; and pay that profession of simulated friendship, with an indiscreet and 24 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S unbounded confidence, always to their loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are coming into the world, of these preferred friendships. Receive them with great civility, but with great incredulity too ; and pay them with compliments, but not with confidence, Do not let your vanity and self-love make you suppose that people become your friends at first sight, or even upon a short acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow grower : and never thrives unless ingrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit. There is another kind of nominal friendship among young people, which is warm for the time, but by good luck, of short duration. This friend- ship is hastily produced, by their being accidentally thrown together, and pursuing the course of riot and de- bauchery. A fine friendship, truly; and well cemented by drunkenness and lewdness. It should rather be called a conspiracy against morals and good manners, and be pun- ished as such by the civil magistrate. However, they have the impudence and folly to call this confederacy a friend- ship. They lend one another money, for bad purposes; they engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive, for their accomplices ; they tell one another all they know, and often more too, when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, and they think no more of each other, unless it be to betray and laugh at their imprudent confidence. Re- member to make a great difference between companions and friends ; for a very complaisant and agreeable com- panion may, and often does, prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. People will, in a great degree, and not without reason, form their opinion of you, upon that which they have of your friends ; and there is a Spanish proverb, which says very justly, TELL ME WHO YOU LIVE WITH AND I WILL TELL YOU WHO YOU ARE. One may fairly suppose, that the man who makes a knave or a fool his friend, has something very bad to do or to conceal. But, at the same time that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and fools, if it can be called friendship, there is no occasion to make either of them your enemies, wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous bodies: and I would rather choose a secure neu- trality, than alliance, or war with either of them. You LETTERS TO HIS SON 25 may be a declared enemy to their vices and follies, with- out being marked out by them as a personal one. Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their friendship. Have a real reserve with almost everybody ; and have a seeming reserve with almost nobody ; for it is very dis- agreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the true medium ; many are ridicu- lously mysterious and reserved upon trifles; and many im- prudently communicative of all they know. The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of your company. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep company with people above you: there you rise, as much as you sink with people below you ; for (as I have mentioned before) you are whatever the company you keep is. Do not mistake, when I say company above you, and think that I mean with regard to their birth : that is the least consideration ; but I mean with regard to their merit, and the light in which the world considers them. There are two sorts of good company; one, which is called the beau monde, and consists of the people who have the lead in courts, and in the gay parts of life ; the other consists of those who are distinguished by some peculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art or science. For my own part, I used to think myself in com- pany as much above me, when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope, as if I had been with all the princes in Europe. What I mean by low company, which should by all means be avoided, is the company of those, who, abso- lutely insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are honored by being in your company, and who flatter every vice and every folly you have, in order to en- gage you to converse with them. The pride of being the first of the company is but too common ; but it is very silly, and very prejudicial. Nothing in the world lets down a character quicker than that wrong turn. You may possibly ask me, whether a man has it always in his power to get the best company? and how? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it ; providing he is but in cir- cumstances which enable him to appear upon the footing of a gentleman. Merit and good-breeding will make their way everywhere. Knowledge will introduce him, and 26 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S good-breeding will endear him to the best companies : for, as I have often told you, politeness and good-breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all other good quali- ties or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, is seen in its best light. The scholar, without good-breeding, is a pedant; the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute ; and every man disagreeable. I long to hear, from my several correspondents at Leip- sig, of your arrival there, and what impression you make on them at first; for I have Arguses, with an hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true; it depends upon you, entirely, of what kind they shall be. Adieu. LETTER XVII LONDON, October 16, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: The art of pleasing is a very necessary one to possess ; but a very difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules ; and your own good sense and observation will teach you more of it than I can. Do as you would be done by, is the surest method that I know of pleasing. Observe carefully what pleases you in others, and probably the same thing in you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance and at- tention of others to your humors, your tastes, or your weaknesses, depend upon it the same complaisance and at- tention, on your part to theirs, will equally please them. Take the tone of the company that you are in, and do not pretend to give it ; be serious, gay, or even trifling, as you find the present humor of the company ; this is an attention due from every individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in company; there is nothing more tedious and dis- agreeable ; if by chance you know a very short story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject of conversa- tion, tell it in as few words as possible; and even then, throw out that you do not love to tell stories ; but that the shortness of it tempted you. Of all things, banish the LETTERS TO HIS SON 27 egotism out of your conversation, and never think of entertaining people with your own personal concerns, or pri- vate affairs ; though they are interesting to you, they are tedious and impertinent to everybody else ; besides that, one cannot keep one's own private affairs too secret. Whatever you think your own excellencies may be, do not affectedly display them in company ; nor labor, as many people do, to give that turn to the conversation, which may supply you with an opportunity of exhibiting them. If they are real, they will infallibly be discovered, without your point- ing them out yourself, and with much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat and clamor, though you think or know yourself to be in the right : but give your opinion modestly and coolly, which is the only way to convince; and, if that does not do, try to change the conversation, by saying, with good humor, <( We shall hardly convince one another, nor is it necessary that we should, so let us talk of something else." Remember that there is a local propriety to be observed in all companies; and that what is extremely proper in one company, may be, and often is, highly improper in an- other. The jokes, the bonmots^ the little adventures, which may do very well in one company, will seem flat and tedious, when related in another. The particular characters, the habits, the cant of one company, may give merit to a word, or a gesture, which would have none at all if di- vested of those accidental circumstances. Here people very commonly err; and fond of something that has entertained them in one company, and in certain circumstances, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it is either insipid, or, it may be, offensive, by being ill-timed or misplaced. Nay, they often do it with this silly preamble ; <( I will tell you an excellent thing B ; or, <( I will tell you the best thing in the world." This raises expectations, which, when abso- lutely disappointed, make the relater of this excellent thing look, very deservedly, like a fool. If you would particularly gain the affection and friend- ship of particular people, whether men or women, en- deavor to find out the predominant excellency, if they have one, and their prevailing weakness, which everybody has ; 28 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S and do justice to the one, and something more than justice to the other. Men have various objects in which they may excel, or at least would be thought to excel ; and, though they love to hear justice done to them, where they know that thev excel, yet they are most and best flattered upon those points where they wish to excel, and yet are doubt- ful whether they do or not. As, for example, Cardinal Richelieu, who was undoubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or perhaps of any other, had the idle vanity of being thought the best poet too ; he envied the great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be written upon the ^Cid." Those, therefore, who flattered skillfully, said little to him of his abilities in state affairs, or at least but en passant, and as it might naturally occur. But the in- cense which they gave him, the smoke of which they knew would turn his head in their favor, was as a bel esprit and a poet. Why? Because he was sure of one excellency, and distrustful as to the other. You will easily discover every man's prevailing vanity, by observing his favorite topic of conversation ; for every man talks most of what he has most a mind to be thought to excel in. Touch him but there, and you touch him to the quick. The late Sir Robert Walpole (who was certainly an able man) was little open to flattery upon that head; for he was in no doubt himself about it; but his prevailing weakness was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn to gallantry; of which he had undoubtedly less than any man living: it was his favorite and frequent subject of conversation : which proved, to those who had any penetration, that it was his prevailing weakness. And they applied to it with success. Women have, in general, but one object, which is their beauty; upon which, scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow. Nature has hardly formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon her person ; if her face is so shocking, that she must in some degree, be conscious of it, her figure and her air, she trusts, make ample amends for it. If her figure is deformed, her face, she thinks, counterbalances it. If they are both bad, she comforts herself that she has graces; a certain manner; a je ne sais guoi, still more engaging than beauty. This truth is evident, from the studied and elaborate dress of LETTERS TO HIS SON 29 the ugliest women in the world. An undoubted, uncon- tested, conscious beauty, is of all women, the least sensible of flattery upon that head; she knows that it is her due, and is therefore obliged to nobody for giving it her. She must be flattered upon her understanding; which, though she may possibly not doubt of herself, yet she suspects that men may distrust. Do not mistake me, and think that I mean to recom- mend to you abject and criminal flattery : no ; flatter no- body's vices or crimes: on the contrary, abhor and discourage them. But there is no living in the world without a com- plaisant indulgence for people's weaknesses, and innocent, though ridiculous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a woman handsomer than they really are, their error is a comfortable one to themselves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I would rather make them my friends, by indulging them in it, than my enemies, by endeavoring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them. There are little attentions likewise, which are infinitely engaging, and which sensibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which is inseparable from human nature; as they are unquestionable proofs of the regard and considera- tion which we have for the person to whom we pay them. As, for example, to observe the little habits, the likings, the antipathies, and the tastes of those whom we would gain ; and then take care to provide them with the one, and to secure them from the other; giving them, genteelly, to understand, that you had observed that they liked such a dish, or such a room; for which reason you had prepared it : or, on the contrary, that having observed they had an aver- sion to such a dish, a dislike to such a person, etc., you had taken care to avoid presenting them. Such attention to such trifles flatters self-love much more than greater things, as it makes people think themselves almost the only objects of your thoughts and care. These are some of the arcana necessary for your initia- tion in the great society of the world. I wish I had known them better at your age ; I have paid the price of three- and-fifty years for them, and shall not grudge it, if you reap the advantage. Adieu. 30 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER XVIII LONDON, October 30, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: I am very well pleased with your Itiner- arium, which you sent me from Ratisbon. It shows me that you observe and inquire as you go, which is the true end of traveling. Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their distance from each other, and attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly return so. Those who only mind the raree-shows of the places which they go through, such as steeples, clocks, town-houses, etc., get so little by their travels, that they might as well stay at home. But those who observe, and inquire into the situations, the strength, the weakness, the trade, the manu- factures, the government, and constitution of every place they go to ; who frequent the best companies, and attend to their several manners and characters; those alone travel with advantage; and as they set out wise, return wiser. I would advise you always to get the shortest description or history of every place where you make any stay; and such a book, however imperfect, will still suggest to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may get better infor- mations from the people of the place. For example ; while you are at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are many such) of the present state of the town, with regard to its magistrates, its police, its privileges, etc., and then inform yourself more minutely upon all those heads in conversation with the most intelligent people. Do the same thing afterward with regard to the Electorate of Saxony : you will find a short history of it in Puffendorf's Intro- duction, which will give you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects of a more minute inquiry. In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive, as to everything ; listlessness and indolence are always blameable, but, at your age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important for all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or four years; and do not lose one of them. Do not think I mean that you should study all day LETTERS TO HIS SON 31 long; I am far from advising or desiring it : but I desire that you would be doing something or other all day long ; and not neglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For instance, there are many short intervals during the day, between studies and pleasures : instead of sitting idle and yawning, in those intervals, take up any book, though ever so trifling a one, even down to a jest-book ; it is still better than doing nothing. Nor do I call pleasures idleness, or time lost, provided they are the pleasures of a rational being ; on the contrary, a certain portion of your time, employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed. Such are public spectacles, assemblies of good company, cheerful suppers, and even balls ; but then, these require attention, or else your time is quite lost. There are a great many people, who think themselves employed all day, and who, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find that they had done just noth- ing. They have read two or three hours mechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequently with- out either retaining it, or reasoning upon it. From thence they saunter into company, without taking any part in it, and without observing the characters of the persons, or the subjects of the conversation; but are either thinking of some trifle, foreign to the present purpose, or often not thinking at all ; which silly and idle suspension of thought they^ would dignify with the name of ABSENCE and DISTRACTION. They go afterward, it may be, to the play, where they gape at the company and the lights ; but without minding the very- thing they went to, the play. Pray do you be as attentive to your pleasures as to your studies. In the latter, observe and reflect upon all you read; and, in the former, be watchful and attentive to all that you see and hear ; and never have it to say, as a thousand fools do, of things that were said and done before their faces, that, truly, they did not mind them, because they were think- ing of something else. Why were they thinking of some- thing else? and if they were, why did they come there? The truth is, that the fools were thinking of nothing. Re- member the hoc age, do what you are about, be what it will; 32 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S it is either worth doing well, or not at all. Wherever you are, have (as the low vulgar expression is) your ears and your eyes about you. Listen to everything that is said, and see everything that is done. Observe the looks and coun- tenances of those who speak, which is often a surer way of discovering the truth than from what they say. But then keep all those observations to yourself, for your own private use, and rarely communicate them to others. Observe, with- out being thought an observer, for otherwise people will be upon their guard before you. Consider seriously, and follow carefully, I beseech you, my dear child, the advice which from time to time I have given, and shall continue to give you; it is at once the result of my long experience, and the effect of my tenderness for you. I can have no interest in it but yours. You are not yet capable of wishing yourself half so well as I wish you; fol- low therefore, for a time at least, implicitly, advice which you cannot suspect, though possibly you may not yet see the particular advantages of it; but you will one day feel them. Adieu. LETTER XIX LONDON, November 6, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : Three mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no letter from you to acknowledge ; I write to you, therefore, now, as usual, by way of flap- per, to put you in mind of yourself. Doctor Swift, in his account of the island of Laputa, describes some philosophers there who were so wrapped up and absorbed in their abstruse speculations, that they would have forgotten all the common and necessary duties of life, if they had not been reminded of them by persons who flapped them, whenever they observed them continue too long in any of those learned trances. I do not indeed suspect you of being absorbed in abstruse speculations; but, with great submission to you, may I not suspect that levity, inattention, and too little thinking, require a flapper, as well as too deep thinking? If my letters should happen to get to you when you are sitting by the fire and doing nothing, or when you are gap- LETTERS TO HIS SON 33 ing at the window, may they not be very proper flaps, to put you in mind that you might employ your time much better? I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow, who used frequently to say, <( Take care of the pence ; for the pounds will take care of themselves.* This was a just and sensible reflection in a miser. I recommend to you to take care of the minutes ; for hours will take care of themselves. I am very sure, that many people lose two or three hours every day, by not taking care of the minutes. Never think any portion of time whatsoever too short to be employed ; something or other may always be done in it. While you are in Germany, let all your historical studies be relative to Germany; not only the general history of the empire as a collective body ; but the respective elec- torates, principalities, and towns ; and also the genealogy of the most considerable families. A genealogy is no trifle in Germany; and they would rather prove their two-and-thirty quarters, than two-and-thirty cardinal virtues, if there were so many. They are not of Ulysses' opinion, who says very truly, Genus et froavos, et quce non fecimus if si; Vix ea nostra voco. Good night. LETTER XX LONDON, November 24, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : As often as I write to you (and that you know is pretty often), so often I am in doubt whether it is to any purpose, and whether it is not labor and paper lost. This entirely depends upon the degree of reason and reflection which you are master of, or think proper to exert. If you give yourself time to think, and have sense enough to think right, two reflections must necessarily occur to you; the one is, that I have a great deal of experience, and that you have none: the other is, that I am the only man living who cannot have, directly or indi- rectly, any interest concerning you, but your own. From which two undeniable principles, the obvious and necessary conclusion is, that you ought, for your own sake, to attend to and follow my advice. 3 34 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S If, by the application which I recommend to you, you acquire great knowledge, you alone are the gainer; I pay for it. If you should deserve either a good or a bad char- acter, mine will be exactly what it is now, and will neither be the better in the first case, nor worse in the latter. You alone will be the gainer or the loser. Whatever your pleasures may be, I neither can nor shall envy you them, as old people are sometimes suspected by young people to do; and I shall only lament, if they should prove such as are unbecoming a man of honor, or below a man of sense. But you will be the real sufferer, if they are such. As therefore, it is plain that I can have no other motive than that of affection in whatever I say to you, you ought to look upon me as your best, and, for some years to come, your only friend. True friendship requires certain proportions of age and manners, and can never subsist where they are extremely different, except in the relations of parent and child, where affection on one side, and regard on the other, make up the difference. The friendship which you may contract with people of your own age may be sincere, may be warm; but must be, for some time, reciprocally unprofitable, as there can be no experience on either side. The young leading the young, is like the blind leading the blind; " they will both fall into the ditch. 8 The only sure guide is, he who has often gone the road which you want to go. Let me be that guide ; who have gone all roads, and who can consequently point out to you the best. If you ask me why I went any of the bad roads myself, I will answer you very truly, That it was for want of a good guide : ill example invited me one way, and a good guide was wanting to show me a better. But if anybody, capable of advising me, had taken the same pains with me, which I have taken, and will continue to take with you, I should have avoided many follies and inconveniences, which undi- rected youth run me into. My father was neither desirous nor able to advise me; which is what, I hope, you cannot say of yours. You see that I make use only of the word advice; because I would much rather have the assent of your reason to my advice, than the submission of your will to my authority. This, I persuade myself, will happen, LETTERS TO HIS SON 35 from that degree of sense which I think you have; and therefore I will go on advising, and with hopes of suc- cess. You are now settled for some time at Leipsig; the prin- cipal object of your stay there is the knowledge of books and sciences ; which if you do not, by attention and appli- cation, make yourself master of while you are there, you will be ignorant of them all the rest of your life; and, take my word for it, a life of ignorance is not only a very contemptible, but a very tiresome one. Redouble your at- tention, then, to Mr. Harte, in your private studies of the Litera Humaniores, especially Greek. State your difficul- ties, whenever you have any ; and do not suppress them, either from mistaken shame, lazy indifference, or in order to have done the sooner. Do the same when you are at lectures with Professor Mascow, or any other professor; let nothing pass till you are sure that you understand it thoroughly ; and accustom yourself to write down the capital points of what you learn. When you have thus usefully employed your mornings, you may, with a safe conscience, divert yourself in the evenings, and make those evenings very useful too, by passing them in good company, and, by observation and attention, learning as much of the world as Leipsig can teach you. You will observe and imitate the manners of the people of the best fashion there ; not that they are (it may be) the best manners in the world; but because they are the best manners of the place where you are, to which a man of sense always conforms. The nature of things (as I have often told you) is always and everywhere the same ; but the modes of them vary more or less, in every country; and an easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather the assuming of them at proper times, and in proper places, is what particularly constitutes a man of the world, and a well-bred man. Here is advice enough, I think, and too much, it may be, you will think, for one letter; if you follow it, you will get knowledge, character, and pleasure by it; if you do not, I only lose operam et oleum, which, in all events, I do not grudge you. I send you, by a person who sets out this day for Leip- sig, a small packet from your Mamma, containing some 36 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S valuable things which you left behind, to which I have added, by way of new-year's gift, a very pretty tooth-pick case; and, by the way, pray take great care of your teeth, and keep them extremely clean. I have likewise sent you the Greek roots, lately translated into English from the French of the Port Royal. Inform yourself what the Port Royal is. To conclude with a quibble : I hope you will not only feed upon these Greek roots, but likewise digest them perfectly. Adieu. LETTER XXI LONDON, December u, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : There is nothing which I more wish that you should know, and which fewer people do know, than the true use and value of time. It is in every- body's mouth ; but in few people's practice. Every fool, who slatterns away his whole time in nothings, utters, how- ever, some trite commonplace sentence, of which there are millions, to prove, at once, the value and the fleetness of time. The sun-dials, likewise all over Europe, have some ingenious inscription to that effect ; so that nobody squanders away their time, without hearing and seeing, daily, how necessary it is to employ it well, and how irrecoverable it 19 if lost. But all these admonitions are useless, where there is not a fund of good sense and reason to suggest them, rather than receive them. By the manner in which you now tell me that you employ your time, I flatter my- self that you have that fund ; that is the fund which will make you rich indeed. I do not, therefore, mean to give you a critical essay upon the use and abuse of time ; but I will only give you some hints with regard to the use of one particular period of that long time which, I hope, you have before you ; I mean, the next two years. Remember, then, that whatever knowledge you do not solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, you will never be the master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a comfort- able and necessary retreat and shelter for us in an advanced age ; and if we do not plant it while young, it will give LETTERS TO HIS SON 37 us no shade when we grow old. I neither require nor expect from you great application to books, after you are once thrown out into the great world. I know it is im- possible; and it may even, in some cases, be improper; this, therefore, is your time, and your only time, for un- wearied and uninterrupted application. If you should sometimes think it a little laborious, consider that labor is the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. The more hours a day you travel, the sooner you will be at your journey's end. The sooner you are qualified for your liberty, the sooner you shall have it; and your manumis- sion will entirely depend upon the manner in which you employ the intermediate time. I think I offer you a very good bargain, when I promise you, upon my word, that if you will do everything that I would have you do, till you are eighteen, I will do everything that you would have me do ever afterward. I knew a gentleman, who was so good a manager of his time, that he would not even lose that small portion of it, which the calls of nature obliged him to pass in the necessary-house; but gradually went through all the Latin poets, in those moments. He bought, for example, a com- mon edition of Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, carried them with him to that necessary place, read them first, and then sent them down as a sac- rifice to Cloacina: this was so much time fairly gained; and I recommend you to follow his example. It is better than only doing what you cannot help doing at those moments; and it will made any book, which you shall read in that manner, very present in your mind. Books of science, and of a grave sort, must be read with continuity; but there are very many, and even very useful ones, which may be read with advantage by snatches, and unconnectedly ; such are all the good Latin poets, except Virgil in his "yEneid" : and such are most of the modern poets, in which you will find many pieces worth reading, that will not take up above seven or eight minutes. Bayle's, Moreri's, and other dictionaries, are proper books to take and shut up for the little intervals of (otherwise) idle time, that everybody has in the course of the day, between either their studies or their pleasures. Good night. 38 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER XXII LONDON, December 18, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY: As two mails are now due from Holland, I have no letters of yours or Mr. Harte's to acknowl- edge; so that this letter is the effect of that scribendi cacoethes, which my fears, my hopes, and my doubts, con- cerning you give me. When I have wrote you a very long letter upon any subject, it is no sooner gone, but I think I have omitted something in it, which might be of use to you ; and then I prepare the supplement for the next post : or else some new subject occurs to me, upon which I fancy I can give you some informations, or point out some rules which may be advantageous to you. This sets me to writ- ing again, though God knows whether to any purpose or not; a few years more can only ascertain that. But, what- ever my success may be, my anxiety and my care can only be the effects of that tender affection which I have for you; and which you cannot represent to yourself greater than it really is. But do not mistake the nature of that affec- tion, and think it of a kind that you may with impunity abuse. It is not natural affection, there being in reality no such thing; for, if there were, some inward sentiment must necessarily and reciprocally discover the parent to the child, and the child to the parent, without any exterior indications, knowledge, or acquaintance whatsoever; which never happened since the creation of the world, whatever poets, romance, and novel writers, and such sentiment- mongers, may be pleased to say to the contrary. Neither is my affection for you that of a mother, of which the only, or at least the chief objects, are health and life : I wish you them both most heartily; but, at the same time, I con- fess they are by no means my principal care. My object is to have you fit to live ; which, if you are not, I do not desire that you should live at all. My affection for you then is, and only will be, proportioned to your merit; which is the only affection that one rational being ought to have for another. Hitherto I have discovered nothing wrong in your heart, or your head: on the contrary LETTERS TO HIS SON 39 I think I see sense in the one, and sentiments in the other. This persuasion is the only motive of my present affection; which will either increase or diminish, according to your merit or demerit. If you have the knowledge, the honor, and probity, which you may have, the marks and warmth of my affection shall amply reward them ; but if you have them not, my aversion and indignation will rise in the same proportion ; and, in that case, remember, that I am under no further obligation, than to give you the necessary means of subsisting. If ever we quarrel, do not expect or depend upon any weakness in my nature, for a reconcilia- tion, as children frequently do, and often meet with, from silly parents ; I have no such weakness about me : and, as I will never quarrel with you but upon some essential point ; if once we quarrel, I will never forgive. But I hope and believe, that this declaration (for it is no threat) will prove unnecessary. You are no stranger to the principles of virtue; and, surely, whoever knows virtue must love it. As for knowledge, you have already enough of it, to en- gage you to acquire more. The ignorant only, either de- spise it, or think that they have enough: those who have the most are always the most desirous to have more, and know that the most they can have is, alas! but too little. Reconsider, from time to time, and retain the friendly advice which I send you. The advantage will be all your own. LETTER XXIII LONDON, December 29, O. S. 1747. DEAR BOY : I have received two letters from you of the i7th and 22d, N. S., by the last of which I find that some of mine to you must have miscarried ; for I have never been above two posts without writing to you or to Mr. Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received a letter from Mr. Harte, which gives me great satisfaction : it is full of your praises ; and he an- swers for you, that, in two years more, you will deserve your manumission, and be fit to go into the world, upon a footing that will do you honor, and give me pleasure. 40 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S I thank you for your offer of the new edition of Ada- mus Adami, but I do not want it, having a good edition of it at present. When you have read that, you will do well to follow it with Pere Bougeant's Histoire du Traitd de Munster, in two volumes quarto ; which contains many important anecdotes concerning that famous treaty, that are not in Adamus Adami. You tell me that your lectures upon the Jus Publicum will be ended at Easter; but then I hope that Monsieur Masco w will begin them again; for I would not have you discontinue that study one day while you are at Leipsig. I suppose that Monsieur Mascow will likewise give you lectures upon the Instrumentum jPacis, and upon the capit- ulations of the late emperors. Your German will go on of course; and I take it for granted that your stay at Leip- sig will make you a perfect master of that language, both as to speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing any language imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all : people being as unwilling to speak in a language which they do not possess thoroughly, as others are to hear them. Your thoughts are cramped, and appear to great disadvantage, in any language of which you are not perfect master. Let modern history share part of your time, and that always accompanied with the maps of the places in question; geography and history are very imper- fect separately, and, to be useful, must be joined. Go to the Duchess of Courland's as often as she and your leisure will permit. The company of women of fash- ion will improve your manners, though not your under- standing; and that complaisance and politeness, which are so useful in men's company, can only be acquired in wo- men's. Remember always, what I have told you a thousand times, that all the talents in the world will want all their lustre, and some part of their use too, if they are not adorned with that easy good-breeding, that engaging man- ner, and those graces, which seduce and prepossess people in your favor at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to be neglected ; always extremely clean ; upon proper occasions fine. Your carriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your man- LETTERS TO HIS SON 41 ner and address, when you present yourself in company. Let them be respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteel without affectation, and insinuat- ing without any seeming art or design. You need not send me any more extracts of the German constitution ; which, by the course of your present studies, I know you must soon be acquainted with; but I would now rather that your letters should be a sort of journal of your own life. As, for instance, what company you keep, what new acquaintances you make, what your pleasures are ; with your own reflections upon the whole : likewise what Greek and Latin books you read and understand. Adieu ! LETTER XXIV January 2, O. S. 1748. DBAR BOY : I am edified with the allotment of your time at Leipsig; which is so well employed from morning till night, that a fool would say you had none left for yourself; whereas, I am sure you have sense enough to know, that such a right use of your time is hav- ing it all to yourself; nay, it is even more, for it is lay- ing it out to immense interest, which, in a very few years, will amount to a prodigious capital. Though twelve of your fourteen Commensaux may not be the liveliest people in the world, and may want (as I easily conceive that they do) le ton de la bonne campagnie, et les graces, which I wish you, yet pray take care not to- express any contempt, or throw out any ridicule; which I can assure you, is not more contrary to good manners than to good sense: but endeavor rather to get all the good you can out of them ; and something or other is to be got out of everybody. They will, at least, improve you in the German language; and, as they come from different coun- tries, you may put them upon subjects, concerning which they must necessarily be able to give you some useful in- formations, let them be ever so dull or disagreeable in gen- eral: they will know something, at least, of the laws r 42 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S customs, government, and considerable families of their re- spective countries ; all which are better known than not, and consequently worth inquiring into. There is hardly any body good for every thing, and there is scarcely any body who is absolutely good for nothing. A good chemist will extract some spirit or other out of every substance; and a man of parts will, by his dexterity and management, elicit something worth knowing out of every being he con- verses with. As you have been introduced to the Duchess of Cour- land, pray go there as often as ever your more necessary occupations will allow you. I am told she is extremely well bred, and has parts. Now, though I would not rec- ommend to you, to go into women's company in search of solid knowledge, or judgment, yet it has its use in other respects ; for it certainly polishes the manners, and gives une certaine tournure, which is very necessary in the course of the world; and which Englishmen have generally less of than any people in the world. I cannot say that your suppers are luxurious, but you must own they are solid; and a quart of soup, and two pounds of potatoes, will enable you to pass the night with- out great impatience for your breakfast next morning. One part of your supper (the potatoes) is the constant diet of my old friends and countrymen,* the Irish, who are the healthiest and the strongest bodies of men that I know in Europe. As I believe that many of my letters to you and to Mr. Harte have miscarried, as well as some of yours and his to me; particularly one of his from Leipsig, to which he re- fers in a subsequent one, and which I never received; I would have you, for the future, acknowledge the dates of all the letters which either of you shall receive from me; and I will do the same on my part. That which I received by the last mail, from you, was of the 25th November, N. S. ; the mail before that brought me yours, of which I have forgot the date, but which in- closed one to Lady Chesterfield : she will answer it soon, and, in the mean time, thanks you for it. Lord Chesterfield, from the time he was appointed Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, 1715, used always to call the Irish his countrymen. LETTERS TO HIS SON 43 My disorder was only a very great cold, of which I am entirely recovered. You shall not complain for want of accounts from Mr. Grevenkop, who will frequently write you whatever passes here, in the German language and character; which will improve you in both. Adieu. LETTER XXV LONDON, January 15, O. S. 1748. DEAR BOY: I willingly accept the new-year's gift which you promise me for next year; and the more valu- able you make it, the more thankful I shall be. That depends entirely upon you; and therefore I hope to be presented, every year, with a new edition of you, more correct than the former, and considerably enlarged and amended. Since you do not care to be an assessor of the imperial chamber, and that you desire an establishment in England; what do you think of being Greek Professor at one of our universities? It is a very pretty sinecure, and requires very little knowledge (much less than, I hope, you have already) of that language. If you do not approve of this, I am at a loss to know what else to propose to you; and therefore desire that you will inform me what sort of destination you propose for yourself; for it is now time to fix it, and to take our measures accordingly. Mr. Harte tells me that you set up for a IIohrtKo