LOED CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTEBS. THE LBTTEES OF . PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE UTJJ 7 EARL OF CHESTERFIELD WITH THE CHAEACTEES EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND INDEX BY JOHN BRADSHAW. M.A., LL.D. Inspector of Schools, Madras ; Editor of Milton's ical Works, A Concordance to Mufott, Gray's Poems, etc. IN THEEE VOLUMES VOL. L ILonHon SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO. PATEENOSTEE SQUAEE 1893 PBEFACE. THIS edition of Chesterfield's "Letters and Characters" con- tains all that was published by Lord Mahon in his four- volume edition of 1845, together with the " omitted passages " in the letters to the Bishop of Waterford and to Chesterfield's son which were supplied in the supplemental volume in 1853, and now first appear in their proper places. The arrangement adopted by Lord Mahon has been fol- lowed ; the first thirty letters to Chesterfield's son, written prior to October, 1739, and a few subsequent ones are omitted, as containing merely elementary instruction for a child of six or seven years; from that date the letters to his son are placed continuously together as Letters on Education, till March, 1754, when young Stanhope had attained his majority ; and thenceforward the remaining letters to him, as being no longer addressed to a youth under instruction, are included in the Miscellaneous and Political Letters which form the second portion of the work. In addition to the Letters published by Lord Mahon, five others, now first printed, will be found in this edition ; viz., a letter of the 18th November, 1746, to the Lords Justices of Ireland (who had charge of the government during Lord Chesterfield's absence for the previous six months in England), informing them of his having resigned the Lord-Lieutenancy, bidding farewell to them, and wishing all manner of prosperity to Ireland ; three letters addressed to George Faulkner, the Dublin printer, dated April, 1756, May, 1758, and December, VI PREFACE. 1761 ; and a letter to Dayrolles, dated 7th January, 1758, in the Newcastle MSS. in the British Museum, which renders the Dayrolles correspondence complete. For the letter to the Lords Justices I have to thank Sir Bernard Burke, C.B., who permitted me to make a search in the archives of Dublin Castle for any unpublished letters of Chesterfield ; and for the three letters to Faulkner I have to thank Dr. Ingram, S.F.T.C.D., who when Librarian of Trinity College, Dublin, came upon several uncatalogued MSS., among which were these and some other original letters, several being from Lord Lyttleton, apparently also to Faulkner. I have retained almost all Lord Mahon's footnotes, dis tinguishing them by the letter M. from the notes now added. "While in ordinary words the spelling is that of the present day, where it differs from that of last century, French and other words which in the first edition were printed in italics, as not then naturalized, are thus printed still, many of them being of philological interest ; and most of these and of words which have changed in meaning will be found in the Index. The coarse expressions or allusions have either been slightly altered or are omitted, the omission being indicated by dots. Lord Mahon made them more conspicuous by giving the initial letter of the objectionable word and a dash. Thus, though not exactly an expurgated edition, the present is one which may be read aloud in mixed company with more safety than its predecessors. For the letter of Lord Charlemont to Lord Bruce, giving his opinion on the " Letters " at the time of their publication in 1774, I have to thank Mr. J. T. Gilbert, F.S.A., M.E-.LA., by whom it was published last year in the "Manuscripts and Correspondence of Lord Charlemont," which he edited for the Historical Manuscripts Commission. In 1853, Lord Mahon brought out a supplemental fifth volume, containing the Miscellaneous Writings of Lord Chester- PBEPAOE. VII field, and some corrections and additional paragraphs mostly in the letters to Bishop Chenevix the Bishop having sup- pressed several allusions to persons still or recently living. The MSS. were lent to the then editor by the great grandson of the Bishop, the Eev. Richard Chenevix Trench, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin, and this portion of Chesterfield's cor- respondence is now first complete. Lord Mahon did not, however, succeed in obtaining a copy of the "remarkable letter," referred to in his Preface, in which Lord Chesterfield reviewed the system of policy he pursued as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and which was quoted by Lord Mulgrave in a debate in the House of Lords on the 27th November, 1837 ; and a search I made in the records in Dublin Castle also proved fruitless. Lord Mahon refers with regret to the fact that the letter to the Duke of Newcastle, of the llth March, 1746, is the " only one in the collection giving an account of public business during his Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland." A few years ago, however, the valuable correspondence of the Duke of Newcastle was acquired by the British Museum, and in it there is a very large number of letters from Lord Chesterfield, which the present editor purposes making public at no distant date. J. B. 11, CLYDE ROAD, DUBLIN, 16th February, 1892. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. RAM PREFACE T TABLE OF CONTENTS ix EVENTS IN THE LIFE OF CHESTERFIELD ....... xv INTRODUCTION ; xvii LORD CHARLEMONT ON CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS xxv ANECDOTES OF PHILIP STANHOPE . . . . . . . xxviii LETTERS TO HIS SON, 1739-1754. 1739. L Oct. 17. In French. Importance of elocution. Ovid's Meta- morphoses 1 II. Oct. 29. In French. Difference between modesty and mauvaise honte 2 III. Nov. 1. Elements of Oratory. Mr. Maittaire .... 3 IV. Nov. 20. Observations on Roman History. Curius, Fabricius and Scipio 5 1740. V. Epigram on Colas. Rollin's Ancient History ... 6 VI. Name of Polyglot. The younger Pliny .... 7 VII. June 9. Linnets and Bullfinches. Paradigms learnt ad unguem 8 VIII. Note in Latin 9 IX. Oct. 14. Ostracism among the Athenians ib. X. Attention in Reading. Description of Night, by Virgil . 10 XI. To be civil with ease 12 1741. XII. May. In Latin . 14 XIII. June 8. Account of Aix la Chapelle 15 XIV. July 25. Good-breeding recommended. Description of " an awkward fellow " 16 XV. Aug. 6. First rules of politeness 18 XVI. Aug. Account of Paris. Rules of oratory. Demosthenes . 20 1742. XVII. June 28. A "noble thirst of glory." Julius Caesar ... 21 XVIII. Visit to Lord Orrery. Good-breeding 23 XIX. Letter-writing. Application at School .... 24 1745. XX. Nov. 19. Mr. Desnoyers. Lessons in Dancing. Sir C. Hotham 25 1746. XXI. Jan. 25. Oscitantes librarii. The fifth form at Westminster . 26 XXII. Feb. 8. Example of Demosthenes 28 XXIII. Feb. 26. Mr. Stanhope, " a small quarto." A new and revised edition of it to be published 29 XXIV. March 10. Court of King's Bench. Knowledge of the world . 30 XXV. April 5. On the character of women 31 CONTENTS OF THE FIKST VOLUME XXVI. XXVII. xxvin. xxrx. xxx. XXXI. xxxn. xxxui. xxxiv. xxxv. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLVH. XLVIII. XLIX. LI. ML LIII. LIV. LV. LVI. LVII. Lvni. LIX. LX. LXI. Sept. 29. On Mr. Stanhope's account of his travels. The English abroad 82 Oct. 4. Attention and application recommended. To study first books and then mankind 85 Oct. 9. Negligence reprehended. Character of an absent man 39 Oct. Mr. Stanhope's travels. Constitution of the Swiss Cantons 42 Dec. 2. Business as Secretary of State. Company at Lau- sanne 43 Dec. 9. On the proper employment of time .... 44 1747. Feb. 24. Letter in French. On the proper choice of pleasures 45 March 6. On the " English crust of bashf ulness " 47 March 27. A man of pleasure. No vices should form part of that character 48 April 3. Attention to dress. Saltworks in Switzerland . 50 April 14. Letters from Mr. Harte. There is time enough for everything in the day 52 June 30. Bishop Burnet's and Mr. Stanyan's accounts of Switzerland 53 July 20. On the best style in letter- writing .... 54 July 30. Studies of Leipsig. Professor Masco w. The Duchess Dowager of Courland 55 Aug. 7. Court of Munich 57 Sept. 21. The Papists at Einsiedlen. Strict truth in con- versation recommended and enforced .... Oct. 2. The scholar and the man of the world Oct. 9. Caution in forming friendships. Two sorts of good company .......... Oct. 16. The art of pleasing. Weaknesses of Cardinal Eichelieu, and of Sir Robert Walpole .... Oct. 30. How to combine studies and pleasures Nov. 6. Island of Laputa. The Flappers .... Nov. 24. Contrast between himself and his father. The Literce. Humaniores. The Port Royal .... Dec. 11. True use and value of time Dec. 18. Health and life subordinate objects to merit and attainments Dec. 29. Adamus Adami. Lectures on Public Law at Leip- sig 76 1748. Jan. 2. Studies and Society at Leipsig . . . . .78 Jan. 15. How to become a Ho\triK6s dv^p .... 80 Jan. 29. Frozen words in Greenland. French books by Pere Bpuhours and 1'Abbe de Bellegarde .... 81 Feb. 9. His retirement from the office of Secretary of State 82 Feb. 13. German studies. Advice as to servants ... 84 Feb. 16. Time lost in mere idleness. Active observation recommended. Forms of Lutheran and of Roman Catholic worship 84 Feb. 22. Use and abuse of learning 88 March 1. Political knowledge to be sought. States of the Germanic Empire 91 March 9. " Sacrifice to the Graces." Inquiries on the Elec- torate of Saxony 92 March 25. On the Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz. Rules for the study of history 96 March 27. Use of note-books kept in travelling . . . 100 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LXII. April 1. Effects of a cultivated mind 101 LXIII. April 15. Court of Saxony 102 LXIV. April 26. The Reformation. Secret causes of great histori- cal events . 103 LXV. May 10. Warning against common-place observations. Courts, religion, matrimony, etc. Conduct of young English travellers 106 LXVI. May 17. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams. Description of an awkward man going to Court ...... 110 LXVII. May 27. Knowledge and manners to be combined . . Ill LXVIII. May 31. Outlines and great epochs of history. The Popes 115 LXIX. June 21. Importance of a good enunciation, andjneans of acquiring it. The bullfinch Matzel . 117 LXX. July 1. Course of studies at Leipsig. Manners and graces 121 LXXI. July 6. Lord Pulteney. Good use of time. Greek and Latin authors. The Ventriloqui 124 LXXII. July 26. Warning against two sorts of understandings, the lazy and the trifling. The graces .... 127 LXXIII. Aug. 2. Society at Leipsig. The Religious Orders. Abbe de Vertot's Histoire de Malte ...... 130 LXXIV. Aug. 23. Mr. Eliot. Abbe de Mably's Droit Public de VEurope 132 LXXV. Aug. 30. Conduct of France since the peace of Munster. Reflections on history. Huet, Bishop of Avranches . 135 LXXVI. Sept. 5. Knowledge of the world. La Bruyere and La Rochefoucault. General character of women . . 138 LXXVII. Sept. 13. Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz. Parallel be- tween Regulus and James Shepherd .... 144 LXXVIII. Sept. 20. The Teutonic Order. Later orders of knight- hood. Manners of the beau monde .... 146 LXXIX. Sept. 27. Mr. Stanhope's Latin lecture on war. Inquiry whether the use of poison can ever come within the lawful means of self-defence. Warning against the refinement of casuists. Quidlibet ex Quolibet. Dr. Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne. Le Comte de Gabalis . 150 LXXX. Oct. 12. Description of really good company . . . 156 LXXXI. Oct. 19. Rules for conduct in good company . . . 160 LXXXII. Oct. 29. The same subject pursued 165 LXXXIII. Nov. 18. Design of Carlo Maratti. The Graces. King Victor Amedee. The great Duke of Marlborough . 170 LXXXIY. Nov. 29. Death of Mr. Eliot, senior. Comte Algarotti, at Berlin . 175 LXXXV. Dec. 6. Death of Lord Chesterfield's brother. On the col- lecting of curious books 176 LXXXVL Dec. 13. The late Lady Dorchester and Dr. Radcliffe. Apollo at Leipsig. Knowledge of the world . . . 178 LXXXVII. Dec. 20. Importance of a good hand-writing. The Aca- demy at Turin. Lord Pulteney 181 LXXXVIII. Dec. 30. Attention to dress. The Graces. Mr. Cranmer . 184 1749. LXXXIX. Jan. 10. Explanation as to Mr. Stanhope's future allow- ance and expenses. Economy and parsimony distin- guished. Study of the King of Prussia's system of government. Maupertuis 187 XC. Jan. 24. Attention to what we see and hear. The Prus- sian service 190 XCL Feb. 7. On prejudices ; those of classical education, of the beau monde, of national pride, etc 192 XCII. Feb. 28. Advantage of Courts. The Carnival at Venice . 196 XCIII. Academy at Turin. Plan of life prescribed to Mr. Stanhope 198 ill CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. XCIV. April 12. The Thirty-Years' War. " The manners of Leipsig must be shook off" 201 XCV. April 19. Masquerades and ridottos at Venice. Music, how far becoming to a gentleman 208 XCVI. April 27. Study of Fortification. The Graces ... 205 XCVII. May 15. The English abroad. Cautions against degrading pleasures. Comte Salmour 207 XCVIII. May 22. Innocent pieces of art. Simulation and dissimu- lation distinguished. " In order to judge of the inside of others study your own " 212 XCIX. June 16. Study of Italian 216 C. June 22. Mr. Stanhope's illness at Laybach. Form of government of Venice. Sculpture and painting . . 217 CI. July 6. Invisible ring of Gyges. What the French call Vaimable. The Duke de Nivernois 219 OIL July 20. Cardinal A. Albani. The League of Cambray . 222 GUI. July 30. Hot baths. The German language ... 225 CIV. Aug. 7. Rules of health for an invalid. Fashionable pleasures 227 CV. Aug. 10. Dignity of manners explained and recommended . 229 CVI. Aug. 21. '' General map of Courts." Les Manieres et les Graces 282 CVII. Sept. 5. Natural curiosities. Cautions on meeting the Pre- tender's partisans or the Pretender himself. Rules of conduct to both 234 CVIII. Sept. 12. Six hours of daily study enjoined. Dialogue be- tween Mr. Stanhope and an Englishman at Rome . . 287 CIX. Sept. 22. On absence of mind and awkwardness. Mr. Lyttelton. Character of the Omnis Homo . . . 243 CX. Sept. 27. On vulgarism in language and in manners. De- scription of an awkward man in company . . . 248 CXI. Oct. 2, Rome and Florence. " Every thing is best at capitals" 252 CXII. Oct. 9. History of the Popes. Fra Paolo, de Beneftciis. The Jesuits 255 CXIII. Oct. 17. Orders of architecture. Lord Burlington. History of the painters and sculptors, bv Felibien . . . 258 CXIV. Oct. 24. The Germans in Italy. M. and Madame Capello . 231 CXV. Nov. 3. Rules of good-breeding. Three different kinds of it 263 CXVI. Nov. 14. The same subject continued 267 CXVII. Importance of good manners in diplomacy. Mr. Lyttelton. Lord Bolingbroke 270 CXVIII. Nov. 24. Style is the dress of thought. Caricature of an inelegant despatch. Dryden, Atterbury and Swift to be particularly studied. Quintilian and Cicero . . 275 CXIX. Nov. 26. The Censorial Power. Little defects. Ridicule resulting from them 279 CXX. Dec. 5. Oratory of Lord Cowper, of Lord Townshend and of the Duke of Argyle. How to shine in the House of Commons 283 CXXI. Dec. 9. The same subject continued 286 CXXII. Dec. 12. Lord Clarendon's character of Hampden. Different effects of elegant and inelegant speaking. Lord Boling- broke's Idea of a Patriot King 288 CXXIII. Dec. 16. Society at Rome. The Jesuits. The Lettres Pro- vinciahs of Pascal 291 CXXIV. Dec. 19. Mixture and inconsistency of human passions. Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin. Women much more like each other than men 293 CXXV. Csesar and Cato contrasted. The hniores virtutes . . 297 CXXVI. Dec. 26. New year's wishes. Eloquence and politeness. " No idleness, no procrastination " 299 CONTENTS OF THE PIKST VOLUME. Xlll CXXVII. CXXVIII. CXXIX. CXXX. CXXXI. CXXXII. CXXXIII. CXXXIV. CXXXV. OXXXVI. CXXXVII. CXXXV1IL CXXXI X. CXL. CXLI. CXLII. CXLHI. CXL1V. CXLV. CXLVI. CXLVII. CXL VIII. CXLIX. CL. CLI. CLII. CLIII. 1750. Jan. 8. The moral character to be not only pure but un- suspected. Francis Chartres. Lord Bacon's distinction between simulation and dissimulation .... Jan. 11. Account of his own first introduction into good company. Speech of a foreign lady .... Jan. 18. Graces and accomplishments. Imitation of the best models ......... Jan. 25. Society at Eome. Address and manner. Foreign languages .......... Feb. 5. Value of time. Order and method. Dospatch is the soul of business. To earn pleasures the only way to taste them ......... Feb. 8. The Italian authors. Tasso, Ariosto, etc. Age of Louis XIV .......... Feb. 22. The Princess Borghese. Le beau monde at Borne . March 8. Five hours of morning study. Government at Home. Addison's travels in Italy ..... March 19. The Pope. Study of political affairs. 303 307 311 314 816 320 324 826 828 March 29. Curiosities at Naples. History of that king- dom 331 April 26. Cautions to Mr. Stanhope before his arrival at Paris. The English coffee-house. Chevaliers d'indus- trie. Monsieur de la Gueriniere 332 April 30. Life of les Milords Anglois at Paris. Le Bon Ton 336 May 8. How to join serious occupations with social pleasures. Study of German and Italian . . . 339 May 17. Importance of the moral virtues. Cautions against vanity 341 May 24. On knowledge of the world. To aim at perfection in every thing 344 June 5. Mr. Stanhope's portrait. Perseverance in points of business recommended. Instance of Cardinal Mazarin and Don Louis de Haro 348 June 11. The President Montesquieu. " That great and important school, the world " 351 July 9. On good enunciation and good writing. Debtor and creditor account of Mr. Stanhope's acquirements. The siege of Genoa 852 Aug. 6. Never to give the tone to the company, but to take it from them 857 Oct. 22. The Earl of Huntingdon. Lady Hervey. Histoire Chronologique, by Henault. New edition of les Memoires de Sully 359 Nov. 1. True method of reading history with advantage. How to turn conversation to account. Exterior worldly accomplishments 363 Nov. 8. General sketch of life and conduct for Mr. Stan- hope during his stay at Paris 867 Daily study of Greek recommended. The French tragedies. To keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels 371 Nov. 12. On dress and address 378 Nov. 19. The Act of Navigation. On orthography. Lady Hervey and Madame de Monconseil. Abbe Guasco . 378 Dec. 24. French letter. On the progress, perfection, and decline of French literature 381 1751. Jan. 3. What society to frequent, and what books to read, at Paris . . 885 XIV CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CLIV. Jan. 8. Riding, fencing and dancing. Dispute between the Crown and the Clergy in France .... 888 CLV. Jan. 14. Tournure of the beau-monde. All Lord Boling- broke's works a model of eloquence and style. Lord Albemarle 389 CLVI. Jan. 21. Rules to acquire good manners. Une certaine douceur recommended. Italian and German studies . 392 CLVII. Jan. 28. Importance of a good hand-writing. The Graces 397 CLVIII. Feb. 4. Extract of a letter to Lord Chesterfield from Paris. La Bruyere well worth studying. The President Mon- tesquieu 400 CLIX. Feb. 11. On good elocution. Mr. Pitt's and Mr. Murray's styles of speaking 403 CLX. Feb. 28. Engaging manners the necessary source of re- gard. A " respectable Hottentot." Affairs of gallantry 407 CLXI. Discourse on the maxim Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re 411 CLXI1. March 11. Les agr6mens et les graces. Lord Chesterfield's villa at Blackheath, alias Babiole 414 CLXH1. March 18. Account of the Bill for the Reformation of the Calendar. ' ' Lord Bolingbroke's style infinitely superior to anybody's" 417 CLXIV. March 25. VArt de badiner agrdablement. Contrast be- tween English and French diplomatists. Death of the Prince of Wales 420 CLXV. April 7. The good -breeding de la Ville et de la Cour dis- tinguished.. Cicero de Oratore ..... 424 CLXV1. April 15. French letter. Le grand secret c'est Part de plaire. Madame de Blot. Fontenelle 427 CLXVII. April 22. Sale of pictures. Les beaux esprits at Paris. Crebillon the younger . 429 CLXVIII. May 2. How to " decline being fat." Air and address . 432 CLXIX. May 6. To avoid brusquerie on the one hand and le fade doucereux on the other 435 CLXX. May 10. Titian and Rembrandt. The Marechal de Coigny. llfautetrerompuaumonde. Les Graces ! Lei Graces! 438 CLXXI. May 16. Advice to Mr. Stanhope peparatory to his arriv- ing in England 441 CLXXII. May 23. Madame Dupin. Soyez galant homme ! . . . 443 CLXXIII. June 6. La Rochefoucault and La Bruyere. Avis d'une mere d son fils, par la Marquise de Lambert. The Mitiores Virtutes ........ 446 CLXXIV. June 10. On dancing and address. " More people stand and walk than sit genteelly " . ... 449 CLXXV. June 13. Demeanour in mixed companies, and with per- sons of different ranks. Loud laughter inconsistent with les biensdances ......'. 452 CLXXVT. June 20. What to see and what to study in travelling. Chit-chat or small talk. The two Princes Borghese . 456 CLXXVII. June 24. Manners and graces. Lord Chesterfield's own case in early life 459 CLXXVIII. June 30. Excursion to Compiegne. The French manner of hunting compared to the English. Dispute between the Court and the Clergy 462 CLXXLX. July 8. Madame de Cursay. Some little presents to be brought by Mr. Stanhope to his mother. Quakerism to be avoided either in dress or manners. La Poire St. Laurent 465 CLXXX. July 15. Last letter to Mr. Stanhope before his journey to England. Subjects of future conversation and study . 469 EVENTS IN THE LIFE AND TIMES OP LORD CHESTERFIELD. 1694. Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield, horn 22nd Sep- tember. 1702. Death of William III. and Accession of Queen Anne. 1712. Chesterfield entered Trinity Hall, Cambridge (as Stanhope). 1714. Death of Queen Anne and Accession of George I. 1715. Appointed Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to the Prince of Wales. Entered the House of Commons as M.P. for St. Germains. 1723. Appointed Captain of the Guard. 1726. Succeeds to the Earldom, on the death of his father. 1727. Death of George I. Chesterfield appointed Ambassador at the Hague. 1730. Appointed Lord Steward and invested with the Garter. 1732. His son, Philip Stanhope, born. 1733. Dismissed from office by the King, in consequence of his opposition to Walpole's Excise Bill. Married Melusina de Schulemberg, Countess of Walsingham (daughter, as supposed, of George I.). She died without issue in 1778. 1737. Speech against Bill for Licensing Theatres. 1739. War with Spain. Commencement of his Letters to his Son ; continued to the death of the latter in 1768. 1742. Fall of Sir Bobert Walpole. 1744. Appointed Envoy to the Hague. 1745 and 1746. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, from May, 1745, to Nov. 18, 1746 residing the last six months in England. 1746. Secretary of State. Offered a Dukedom. 1748. Besigns 6th February, owing to his opposition to the War> 1751. Proposed and carried the Beformation of the Calendar. 1752. His deafness commences. 1755. His deafness so increased that he writes, May 2, " Public life and I are parted for ever." 1755. His Godson and successor, Philip Stanhope, son of Arthur Chas. Stan- hope, born 28th November. 1757. Effects a reconciliation between the Duke of Newcastle and Pitt. 1760. Death of George II., and Accession of George HI. 1761. Commencement of his Letters to his Godson. 1768. Death of his Son. 1773. Died 24th March. LORDS LIEUTENANT OF IRELAND, FROM LOED CHESTERFIELD'S RESIGNATION TO HIS DEATH. 1747. September W. Stanhope, first Earl Harrington ; to April, 1750. 1751. September L. C. Sackville, first Duke of .Dorset ; to May, 1754. 1755. May William Cavendish, Marquis of Hartington ; to May, 1756. 1757. September John Russell, fourth Duke of Bedford ; to May, 176C. 1761. October George Montagu, last Earl of Halifax ; to May, 1762. 1763. September Hugh Percy, Earl (afterwards Duke) of Northumberland ; to May, 1764. 1765. October Francis Seymour Conway, Earl of Hertford ; to June, 1766. 1766. George William, Earl of Bristol.* 1767. October George Townshend, first Marquess Townshend ; to Nov., 1772. 1772. November Simon Harcourt, first Earl Harcourt ; to Jan., 1777. * Appointed by patent, but never took up the appointment. Except the last two, the Lords Lieutenant during this period spent little time in Ireland, the actual government being left in the hands of Lords Justices ; hence too the intervals between the departure of one Lord Lieutenant and the swearing in of his successor. The dates are to bo found in Liber Munerum Publicorum Hibernias, vol. I., part ii., pp. 12, 18. xvi INTRODUCTION. THE name " Chesterfield " and his " Letters " are always associated together, but the " Chesterfield's Letters " known to our grandfathers to the men of last century and of the first half of this are the " Letters to his Son," and it is as the author of these and with the character he bears as such, generally condensed into the epigrammatic but far from true and now unquotable saying of Dr. Johnson's, that he is still thought of. Judging him from these famous Letters, the world long since saw in him merely " his delicate but fastidious taste, his low moral principle, and his hard, keen, and worldly wisdom ; " * and this is still the popular verdict, though recent criticism and the publication of the Letters to his Godson should go far to modify it. The " Letters of Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, to his Son " were first published in 1774, by Mrs. EUGENIA STANHOPE,t the widow of the son ; a second and a third edition followed in the same year, and the work was frequently reprinted, both in this country and in America ; and in various forms, in " Selections " or in expurgated editions, it has continued to appear, and is, as already stated, the best known of Chester- field's writings. The " Miscellaneous Works, Letters to his Friends, Characters, etc.,' 7 were edited by Dr. MATY in 1777. Few editions of this work, however, appeared. In 1845, Lord MAHON (afterwards Lord Stanhope) published the Letters, Characters, etc., in four volumes, in which appeared for the first time many letters among those classed as Political and Miscellaneous. In 1853 he brought out a supplemental volume, consisting chiefly of Chester- field's papers in the World and in other periodicals. Though this is the standard edition for what it contains, its size and cost placed it beyond the reach of many readers, and it is now a rare work. In 1890 Lord CARNARVON edited Lord Chesterfield's " Letters to his Godson" from the original MSS., which had been given to him by his father-in-law, the sixth Earl of Chesterfield, the son of the Godson. This * Lecky, History of England in the Eighteenth Century, i. 379. f For the copyright she received 1,575 from Dodsley, the publisher, who in the following year obtained an injunction in the Court of Sessions at Edinburgh, preYent- ing Messrs. Elliot and M'Farquhar, booksellers, of Edinburgh, from reprinting the Letters. (Annual Register, 1775.) VOL. I. XTii 6 XVI 11 INTRODUCTION. series of Letters 236 in all was written between the years 1761 and 1770, and was now first made public. But, besides all the Letters which were unknown to the readers and critics who originally passed their verdict and sentence on " Chesterfield's Letters," the British Museum has recently acquired (by gift from the Earl of Chichester in 1887) five hundred and forty-eight volumes, now known as the Newcastle MSS., which contain many letters from Lord Chesterfield, the most numerous to one person being his correspondence with the Duke of Newcastle between the years 1729 and 1768. To return to the "Letters to His Son." They have incurred strong reprehension on two grounds : first, because some of their maxims are repugnant to good morals, and for the occasional coarseness of the lan- guage ; and, secondly, as insisting too much on manners and graces instead of more solid acquirements. As regards the latter objection, it must be remembered that not only were they not written as a complete system of education, but they were intended to remedy the principal defects of a youth who, while requiring little or no incentive to book-learning, was almost incurably awkward; and further, that the frequent repeti- tion and insistance on certain points of good breeding in which his son was deficient are also due to the fact that many of the letters were lost in transit, and the writer could not tell whether a letter sent by post had reached until acknowledged. As to the first and more serious objec- tion, it will not be sufficient to say that the coarseness was that of a. coarse-minded age ; and as to what is still more reprehensible, it has been well said, " What a different lesson was taught by the Scottish peasant, a man laid low and stained by thoughtless follies, but nevertheless one by whom ' the native feelings strong, the guileless ways ' were ever honoured ; he too considers the effect on the character of Chesterfield's refining pleasures, and cays : I wave the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing ; But, och ! it hardens a' within And petrifies the feeling." " From the time that you have had life," writes Chesterfield to his son, " it has been the principal and favourite object of mine to make you as perfect as the imperfections of human nature will allow." What highe'r desire could a father have ? "Perfect" in what ? In the " art of pleasing," so as to " get on," to be able to outwit others, and to secure the fav6ur of courts and kings. To accomplish this he was to employ flattery, dis- simulation, and to " angle for praise." He advises him to " speak advan- tageously of those who are best at Court behind their backs in companies who you have reason to believe will tell them again " ; "to wriggle himself into favour " ; " every man is approached by many avenues ; when you cannot get at him through the great one, try the serpentine INTRODUCTION. XIX ones, and you will arrive at last " ; " above all, you must gain and engage the heart to betray the understanding." Insincerity and duplicity seem to have been part of Chesterfield's nature ; the insincerity of his flattery in his letters to Faulkner, Bishop Chenevix, and others of his correspondents is quite apparent now, what- ever they may have thought of him ; and the training he gave his son in simulation and dissimulation brought him nearer " perfection " than did all he wrote on the "graces"; for, as has often been noted, Philip Stanhope concealed his marriage from this indulgent parent, and the first intimation of that event the old earl received was, it is said, from the wife herself when informing him of his son's death. " This Lord's directions concerning washing the face and paring the nails," writes Carlyle, " are indeed very praiseworthy ; but the flattery, the dissimulation, and paltry cunning that he is perpetually recommend- ing leave one little room to regret that Chesterfield was not his father." " Nevertheless," observes Dr. Hill, " there was in them a lesson of con- ciliation, which, studied and mastered, would have rendered life far happier for Carlyle and for all about him ; of that ' suaviter in modo,' which formed the text of many of his lordship's sermons, the rugged Scotchman knew nothing." " Take out the immorality," said Johnson, " and it should be put into the hands of every young gentleman." But it is evident that what is of this nature in his Letters, Chesterfield did not regard as such ; for there are few things on which he lays greater stress than the need of 'virtue' and purity of character, though the motive assigned is not always the highest. " There is nothing," he says, " so delicate as your moral character, and nothing which it is your interest so much to pre- serve pure." "A man's moral character once tainted is irreparably destroyed." "The quiet and satisfaction of the virtuous man's con- science make him cheerful by day and sleep sound of nights ; he can be alone with pleasure, and is not afraid of his own thoughts." "For God's sake be scrupulously jealous of the purity of your moral character ; keep it unsullied and it will be unsuspected." " We must much rather die than do a base or criminal action." The incompatibility between such wholesome advice as the fore- going and the ' gallantries ' and ' arrangements ' he almost as often suggested to his son is explained by such being the authorized practices in all continental countries, and the impurity of our own Court at the time ; but, above all, by the fact that those broader and deeper founda- tions on which the character he sought to form ought to have been built considered even as that of a mere man of the world were unknown to Chesterfield. " At the root of all," writes his kinsman and editor, Lord Mahon, "lay a looseness of religious principle." In spite, however, of this great blot, and making allowance for the changes a century and a half has wrought in education, in etiquette, and in the tone and topics of conversation, no one can rise from a perusal of XX INTRODUCTION. these " Letters " without concurring in what has been said of them by a statesman and diplomatist of the present day, that not merely should they be " more generally read," but that the " study of them ought to be a regular portion of the education of every Englishman who is likely to enter public life tolerably early." * Since these words were written there have appeared (besides reprints of the " Letters "), the " Worldly Wisdom of Lord Chesterfield," edited by Dr. Birkbeck Hill, at the request of the Delegates of the Clarendon Press ; " Selections from the Letters," in the Camelot series ; and the M Letters of the Earl of Chesterfield to his Godson and Successor," edited by the Earl of Carnarvon, in 1889, which reached a second edition within a twelve- month. " It is a rich book." writes M. Sainte-Beuve of the Letters to his Son ; " one cannot read a page without finding some happy observation worthy of being mentioned." To take but a few of the many striking say ings f scattered throughout these volumes, one feels not only that they could not be expressed better or more pithily, but that it would be a much hap- pier world if men and women followed his advice for the conduct of life. which may be summed up in the phrase he so often dwells on the ' suav- iter in modo and the fortiter in re:' " Patience," he writes, " is a most necessary qualification for business; many a man would rather you heard his story than granted his request." a The injustice of a bad man is sooner forgiven than the wit of a witty one." " Write him a letter of thanks, warm and young thanks, not old and cold thanks." "A free conversation will no more bear a dictator than a free Government will." " I look upon indolence as a sort of suicide, for the man is effectually destroyed, though the appetites of the brute may survive." " A man who tells nothing or who tells all will equally have nothing told to him." "Whoever is in a hurry shows that the thing he is about to do is too big for him; haste and hurry are very different things." " Trivial futile books swarm and buzz about one every day ; flap them away, they have no sting." " In the case of scandal as in that of robbery, the receiver is as bad as the thief." " The scholar, without good breed- ing, is a pedant, the philosopher a cynic, the soldier a brute, and every man disagreeable." " There is not a more prudent maxim than to live with our enemies as if they may one day become our friends." " Smile when you cannot strike." " Be silent till you can be soft." Lord Chesterfield's " Characters " are not as well known as they de- serve to be, these, with most of his other writings, having been thrown into the shade by the " Letters." The shorter ones are as piquant and pithy as those of " Jehu Junior " in Vanity Fair ; while in some of the longer ones in " Lord Bute," for example (first published in Lord Mahon's * Sir M. E. Grant Duff, K.C.S.I., in the Fortnightly Review for June, 187& (" Chesterfield's Letters to his Son "). t For others see the Table of Contents and the Index. INTRODUCTION. XXI edition) in epigrammatic style, pointed satire, and character-painting, he is not surpassed ev.en by Macaulay. Of George II. he writes : " His heart always seemed to be in a state of perfect neutrality between hardness and tenderness." Of Pulteney : " He was fixed in the House of Lords, that hospital of incurables ; and his retreat to popularity was cut off, for the confidence of the public when once great and once lost is never to be regained." Of the Duke of Bedford: " He had rather more than a common share of common sense, but with a head so wrong turned, and so invincibly obstinate, that the share of parts which he had was of little use to him and very troublesome to others. ... In short, he was a Duke of a respectable family, and with a very great estate." Of Lord Bute : " His name was Stuart ; he called himself a descendant of that royal house, and was humble enough to be proud of it, ... If ever the multitude deviate into the right, it is always for the wrong reason, as appeared on this occasion, for the great cry against Lord Bute was upon account of his being a Scotchman, the only fault which he could not possibly correct. . . . No man living had his entire confidence ; and no man thinks himself bound by a half-confidence." In many respects Chesterfield was in advance of the time in which he lived : in religious toleration : "I would." he says, " as soon murder a man for his estate as prosecute him for his religious and speculative errors " ; and " I should as soon expect every man to be of my height and temperament as to wish that he should reason precisely as I do " ; in his liberal views on the bill for the Naturalization of the Jews, passed in 1752, but repealed in the following year owing to the " groundless and senseless clamours " against it; and in his advocacy of a modern side in school and university education. In 1751 he carried in the House of Lords the bill for the Re- formation of the Calendar, a change which was so strongly opposed by popular prejudice that many statesmen had shrunk from moving in it, and " give us back the eleven days we have been robbed of " was long after an election cry. But above all he stands conspicuous for his wise and liberal administra- tion as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. "I came," he wrote, :t determined to prosecute no set of persons and to be governed by none." His rule was as conciliatory as it was firm, and as free from panic as it was from partizanship. When one morning he was told that it was feared the people of Connaught were rising, he looked at his watch and said, " It is certainly time for them, for it is now nine o'clock." But he neglected no precaution for the public safety, and the result was that while a Scottish army was marching on Derby, and the dynasty in England was tottering, Ireland remained absolutely quiet. " No ruler," writes the late Lord Carnarvon, himself not long ago Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, " no ruler was ever more easy of access, more free from the least shadow of corruption, more ready to reward merit, more indulgent when indulgence was safe, more firm when firmness was necessary." And though at XX11 INTBODUCTION. the time he wrote of his work there as " drudgery, uninterrupted and intolerable," his frequent letters, for a quarter of a century after he had left Ireland, to Bishop Chenevix, Alderman Faulkner, Thomas Prior, and Dr. Madden, show a continued and apparently disinterested feeling in the welfare of that country ; he desired to be remembered as the Irish Lord Lieutenant, and his constant theme was the encouragement of manu- factures specifying glass bottles (but every man must " make as many bottles as he empties," a sly hit at the excessive drinking then prevalent), starch to be made from potatoes, and improvement in the manufacture of paper ; " these are the sort of jobs that I wish the people of Ireland would attend to with as much interest and care as they do to jobs of a very different character." See also his letters of October, 8, 1755, and Nov- ember 25, 1757 : " There is a great deal of money lying dead in the Treasury, let them apply that to real public uses. Let them encourage the extension and improvement of their manufactures, the cultivation of their lands, and above all the Protestant Charter Schools. . . Let them make Connaught and Kerry know that there is a God, a king, and a government three things to which they are at present utter strangers " . . " Tie them down to the Government by the tender but strong bonds of landed property, which the Pope will have much ado to dissolve, notwithstanding his power of loosing and binding." What his views of separation from England were at a time when Ireland had its own Parliament was thus expressed : " When Ireland is no longer dependent on England, the Lord have mercy on it ! " One cannot read the Miscellaneous Letters of Lord Chesterfield, rang- ing from 1712 to 1772, without feeling in what an interesting period of English history his lot was cast, and what side-lights they throw on it. " That period," writes Lord Carnarvon, " represents the establish- ment of the new dynasty, the real creation of our Parliamentary system, and the rise of a brilliant literature, which, with many modifications, but with no essential break, has flowed down continuously to our own times ; and in each and all of these great incidents he played a conspicuous part. It was a long life. He began it with George I. ; he ended it under the great-grandson of George I. In early youth, and in the house of his grandmother, Lady Halifax, he had known Danby and Montagu, the statesmen of the Revolution ; on one occasion he saw Richard Cromwell, then an old man. give evidence in a court of law before Chief Justice Holt. He lived through two quarrels with two Princes of Wales ; he acted either with or against all the great public men of that day Bolingbroke, Walpole, Pulteney, Carteret, Pitt; he was intimate with all the greatest men of letters, with Addison, Swift, Pope, Gay, Arbuthnot, Johnson ; he knew Algarotti, Montesquieu, and Voltaire ; he lived long enough into the reign of George III. to see him victorious in his struggle with the Whig aristocracy long enough to witness the beginning of his fatal contest with the thirteen Colonies of America: he foretold the INTRODUCTION. XX111 French Revolution when the cloud was not bigger than a man's hand ; he foresaw that the kingdom of Poland was on the verge of extinction ; he anticipated the fall of Papal temporalities ; he was the centre of fashion in England, and was well acquainted with foreign society ; he was an acknowledged chief in the world of letters, whilst in politics he played his part as a successful diplomatist and an eminent administrator. He possessed all the honours that he cared for ; when he retired from public life, it was by his own choice ; when again for a short time he re-appeared on the public stage, it was only to render a great service to the country ; and when he finally said farewell to all public life, he knew how to withdraw with dignity to his books, his friends, and his stately mansion, retaining his mental faculties and his habitual courtesies up to death." The last twenty years of Lord Chesterfield's life were spent in retire- ment; in 1752 a hereditary deafness began to show itself, and in his sixtieth year not only was he so deaf as to prevent his enjoying society, but " all the infirmities of age," he writes, " still more advanced than mine, crowd in upon me." "Some reading, some writing, some trifling in my garden, and some contemplation, concur in making me never less alone than when alone." " Public life and I are parted for ever." He died at Chesterfield House, on the 24th of March, 1774, and was buried in the vault of the chapel in South Audley Street, but his remains were afterwards removed to the family burial place in Shelford Church, Nottinghamshire. The son, to whom the " Letters " were addressed, and whose success in life had been the object of such loving solicitude, died five years before him. Though known as Mr. Philip Stanhope, he was an illegitimate son ; his mother being " a beautiful young lady at the Hague," named Du Bouchet. But notwithstanding all his father had done for him and all the influence he used for his advancement, his illegitimacy was made a bar to his appearing at the court at Brussels, and two years after (1753), though the Duke of Newcastle endeavoured to secure for him the appointment of Resident at Vienna, the King refused to make it. In 1754 Philip Stanhope entered Parliament ; in 1757 he obtained a diplo- matic appointment at Hamburg; in 1763 at Ratisbon ; in 1764 he was appointed Envoy Extraordinary at Dresden; and in 1768 he died at Avignon, where he had gone for the benefit of his health. It has been the fashion to exaggerate the non-success of Chesterfield's efforts to in- culcate good-breeding and the "graces," but we may accept the state- ment of Boswell : " I knew him at Dresden, when he was Envoy at that Court, and though he could not boast of the graces, he was, in fact, a civil well-behaved young man." " A cynic," " cold in heart and unamiable in character," are among the epithets applied to Lord Chesterfield by those who have judged him mainly, if not altogether, from his worldly maxims and his fatal gift of XXIV INTRODUCTION. wit. He may have been so at one period of his life, or at more than one ; but none but a kindly nature could have treated the widow and little sons of Philip Stanhope as he did, or dictated the playful and touchiugly affectionate letter he addressed to the two lads, Charles and Philip, dated October 27th, 1771. Those who knew him only from his Letters to his Son have regarded him as a sceptic and without religious principles ; but in his later years he not only refers to his belief in G-od, but expresses his remorse for the sins of his youth, and his hope in " God's merciful pardon of acknowledged errors." Letters to the Bishop of Waterford, March and Aug., 1755. Of recent criticism on Chesterfield, the most important or interesting are the article in the Quarterly Review for October, 1845, by Lord Brougham, and the article in the Edinburgh Review of same date by Mr. Hay ward, both reviewing Lord Mahon's edition ; an article in Black- wood's Magazine, May, 1868, by Mrs. Oliphant (republished in her " His- torical Sketches of the Reign of George II.") ; in the Cornhill Magazine, by Mr. Leslie Stephen, July, 1871 ; in the Dublin University Magazine, July, 1875 ; in the Gentleman's Magazine, May, 1877 ; and in the Fort- nightly Review, June, 1879, by the Eight Hon. Sir M. E. Grant-Duff. Add to these Dr. Birkbeck Hill's "Introduction" in the Worldly Wisdom of Lord Chesterfield, 1890, and the u Memoir " by Lord Carnarvon, pre- fixed to the Letters to his Godson, Clarendon Press, 1890. The Letters to his Godson also Philip Stanhope, son of a distant kins- man, Arthur Stanhope, of Mansfield in Notts who succeeded the Earl in his eighteenth year, were written between 1761 and 1770. Of these the Earl of Carnarvon in first making them public writes : " They place him, I think, in a somewhat new light, and show that private sorrows and public disappointments, and the heavy hand of age, and still more the natural kindliness of temper which had been concealed under the polish of society, had led him, in the sunset of life, to a somewhat different estimate of right and wrong from that which he once professed." LORD CHARLEMONT ON "CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS." EXTRACT PROM LETTER TO LORD BRUCE, DATED 17th JULY, 1774. ' You ask me my opinion with regard to Lord Chesterfield's ' Letters.' The question is delicate, and it may appear presumptuous in me to hazard any opinion in a matter which I can easily conceive to be a subject of controversy in the literary world ; but whatever you ask of me you must have. " In point of composition I think these letters, though in many parts inaccurately written, and in some few, notwithstanding the writer's aversion to vulgarisms, not perfectly free from that defect, most excellent performances, and indeed the very best model for familiar epistolary writing now extant in our language. This sort of composition is certainly not that in which we have succeeded best, and many of our most cele- brated authors, who have done excellently in every other way, have, for the most part, failed in this ; perhaps from having taken too much pains, and from endeavouring to write too well ; neither do I believe that any letters written expressly for publication are ever likely to succeed an easy, natural, amusing manner, a flowing style, not too accurate, or at least not laboriously so, a legerete d'esprit, and the ton de la bonne com- pagnie, seem essentially necessary to form a good letter writer, and in all these points our author, in my opinion, greatly excels. " His diction is unaffected, and unlaboured. His wit is natural, and without effort, nay, even his most profound remarks upon human nature, of which he has many, seem rather to spring spontaneously from his subject, and to have arisen from the conception of the moment, than to be the consequence of preconsideration or of study. Our author's educa- tion, his rank and consequent associates, his peculiar talent for conversa- tion, the very best ingredient which can possibly enter into the epistolary style, and indeed the whole colour of his life, seem to have formed him expressly for this sort of composition, and, as this is perhaps the only species of writing in which it may be confessed that we are surpassed by our neighbours the French, it is not improbable that his predilection to the manners of that superficially ingenious people may have contributed not a little to his success. " And now with respect to the more important point, the matter which these letters contain, and the tendency of the doctrine therein inculcated. am not much surprised to find a considerable difference of opinion, and XXVI LOUD CHABLEMONT ON " CHESTEHFIELD S LETTERS." that, while the vicious applaud and laugh, men of virtue, for the most part, disapprove and condemn yet even here I cannot help doubting that they who criticise and blame the most, do so from having totally mistaken the author's plan, and the design with which he wrote. They, who suppose them to have been intended for a system of education, in my opinion, do the author the greatest injustice. They were written to a particular point, and for the use and improvement of a very particular person. You, my dear lord, were well enough acquainted with Stanhope to know that his great and real deficiency was an ungraceful demeanour, and a total want of good breeding ; a natural and stubborn disease, which even these medicaments, though administered with the utmost skill, could never cure ; and all the efforts of the paternal physician were levelled against this radical vice of his son's nature a vice which, if we consider Lord Chesterfield's character, punctiliously well-bred, and the vocation for which he intended his son, that of a foreign minister, we shall not be surprised at the anxiety with which he labours its cure. To remedy, then, these constitutional defects, and to fit his pupil for that station to which he proposed to raise him, by communicating a perfect knowledge of the world, and by teaching him that mode of behaviour by which alone he could insure success, seems to have been the principal. if not the sole, object of the writer, who frequently repeats that he on purpose abstains from inculcating the greater and more important duties of life, which, as he often expressly says, do not lie within that province of instruction he had assigned to himself, but in which he supposes his pupil already sufficiently grounded neither can we with justice blame him for omitting such points as were foreign to his subject. If a physi- cian shoiild write upon a particular case, it would seem hard and unfair to criticise his work under the idea that he had intended it for a complete system of physic and indeed when we reflect that these letters were most undoubtedly never intended for publication, but were unjustifiably forced into the world by the poverty and resentment of Mrs. Stanhope, our old and singular acquaintance Eugenia Peters, we shall the more easily believe that they were solely meant for the inspection of the patient himself, to whose cure their contents were exclusively appropriated, and not by any means for the general use of mankind. Even poisons are successfully employed as remedies for certain maladies, but he would be indeed a quack who should recommend arsenic as an universal panacea. Thus we have, I may venture to suppose, answered one principal objec- tion to these letters, namely, that in a work written for the instruction of a son the father has omitted to inculcate the more important duties of life, and has dwelt upon those which in comparison are to be esteemed trifling. " There remains, however, another accusation of a still more grievous nature, and, I fear, not so easily obviated that in some instances the moral is too relaxed, and the doctrine derived rather from the con- taminated source of worldly wisdom, than from the clear and wholesome LORD CHAKLEMONT ON " CHKSTEhl'lELD's LETTKB8." fountain of virtue. And here I must coni'ess that the high respect I bear to Lord Chesterfield's memory induces me ardently to wish that some few pages of the book had remained unprinted. They are, however, but very few, and their tendency is corrected and much overbalanced by the many virtuous and noble sentiments which shine in other parts of the work. Much also might possibly be said in excuse, even of these too apparently criminal passages, if we had leisure to examine them singly at present I shall only urge one general consideration, which, though it certainly can not excuse, may serve in some degree to palliate and ex- tenuate the offence. Lord Chesterfield intended his son for a foreign minister. How far this designation may have been wise I shall not presume to question, but, for my own part, I would as soon breed my son an attorney. Be that, however, as it may, there is nothing more certain than that instructions to a person meant to fill that character must not come from the school of Zeno. There are moreover many sentiments and even pieces of advice, interspersed through these letters, which bor- der too much upon libertinism. These, though not in my estimation quite so bad as the worldly maxims, are perhaps still more indecorous in the letters of a father. As such I will by no means attempt to excuse them, but shall only say that the old man had never been a saint, that, however injudiciously, he perhaps wished to preserve his son from vulgar and infamous debauchery by shewing no disapprobation to the more refined and delicate, though certainly more mischievous, allurements of elegant vice, that, not without reason, he thought gallantry the best means to correct and reform the distorted manners of his awkward pupil, and that he wrote to a very young man. constitutionally addicted to pleasure, and of whom he wished to make a confidential friend. These are, however, but paltry excuses, and I can only wish that all such pas- sages had also been suppressed yet I will try to counterbalance these sins against decency by referring you to the 132nd letter of the first volume,* where, if you have not already observed it, you will find with surprise the noble author in a few plain words anticipating the great principle upon which the excellent Dr. Beattief has founded his argu- ment against modern metaphysicians and sceptics, in his incomparable treatise on the nature and immutability of truth, I say anticipating, since that treatise was written long since the writing of these letters, though before they were made public. " Upon the whole, then, when we view these letters in the light in which I have placed them, in my opinion the only fair one, we shall, I believe, find them in every respect adequate to the purpose for which they were written perhaps the only true criterion of literary merit. Wit, good sense, and a thorough knowledge of the world are to be found in almost every page, and, with some necessary rastrictions, I scarcely know of any publication which a young man may read with more advan- * Letter of 27th September, 1748. t James Beattie, author of Essay on Truth, 1770 ; The Minstrel, 1771, etc. XXV111 LORD CHARLEMONT ON "CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. taga ; neither have I ever seen in &ny language so perfect a system of good breeding. And yet, after all, this publication, of which the author however is perfectly innocent, may perhaps do the world more harm than good. The age is. I fear, already much too refined, and our man- ners even too polished. Essential good qualities and solid endowments seem to be far less sought after than trifling accomplishments and super- ficial ornament. Too much polishing, I speak to you as to an artist, has, I fear, well nigh effaced and worn out the great strokes, the characteristic touches of the master. " And now, my dear lord, I am ashamed of what I have written, first, for its enormous length, and next for its presumption and insuf- ficiency." "SOME ANECDOTES OF PHILIP STANHOPE, ILLUSTRATIVE OF HIS CHARACTER AND OF HIS FATHER'S DISAPPOINTMENT." * " Stanhope, with all his awkwardness, had certainly good parts, and a great share of clumsy liveliness. When a mere boy he was comically un- lucky,f a defect pardonable and even laughable at that time of life, but which in him lasted much too long. He was, in effect, even in his riper days, a perfect Tony Lumpkin. When at Berne, where he passed some of his boyhood, in company with Harte, and the excellent Mr., now Lord, Eliott,t he was one evening invited to a party, where, together with some ladies, there happened to be a considerable number of Bernese senators, a dignified set of elderly gentlemen, aristocratically proud, and perfect strangers to fun. These most potent, grave, and reverend seignors were set down to whist, and were so studiously attentive to the game, that the unlucky brat found little difficulty in fastening to the backs of their chairs the flowing tails of their ample periwigs, and in cutting, unobserved by them, the ties of their breeches. This done, he left the room, and presently re-entered, crying out Fire ! Fire ! The affrighted burgomasters suddenly bounced up, and exhibited to the amazed spectators their senatorial heads and backs totally deprived of ornament or covering. This certainly comical, but wonderfully impudent, frolic was carefully concealed from Lord Chesterfield, who would scarcely have pardoned it even to the childhood of his son and pupil. ; ' The following anecdote, which, as well as the foregoing, was related to me by Lord Eliott, an eye-witness, will serve to shew how totally all * Written by Lord Charlemont, and appended to the foregoing letter, t This is Mr. Gilbert's reading of the MS., but I conjecture "unwieldy." J.B. J George Augustus Eliott, created in 1787 Lord Heathfield of Gibraltar, for his defence of that for ANECDOTES OF PHILIP STANHOPE. XXIX the anxious father's pains were thrown away on the utterly incurable son. Among others of his uncouth qualities Stanhope was both an epicure and a glutton a lover of good things and a gross feeder upon them. One day, not long after his return from abroad, he dined with Lord Chesterfield in a large and polite company. The table, which was always elegant, was covered with delicacies, but of all others that which attracted most our hero's notice was an oval silver dish containing a quantity of excellent baked gooseberries, then a rarity, snowed over with a rich covering of whipped cream. Lady Chesterfield, who at all times piqued herself upon shewing the greatest and kindest attention towards her husband's son, and who knew Stanhope's predilection for this Lis favourite dish, had already helped him most copiously to its delicious contents, all of which he had greedily devoured, when, the service being changed, he, with much regret, observed a servant carrying away a very considerable remnant of his darling food. Unable to resist the temptation, he beckoned to the servant, who presently put him in possession of his heart's desire; when, impatient either from appetite, or from a wish not to delay the change of courses, from which a change of delights might be expected, he hastily placed under his chin the oval dish, still foaming with rich cream, and began with all possible celerity to lap it up in hasty spoonfuls. Lord Chesterfield, who with grief of heart beheld the mortifying operation, but whose humoiir and good humour were not to be altered, and whose politeness towards his company smothered that rage, which almost choked him, called out to the valet who stood behind the chair of his graceless son, in these words: 'John, why do you not fetch the strop and the razors? you see your master is going to shave himself.' Another of Stanhope's failings was an insatiable curiosity, the gratification of which, even upon the slightest occasions, he could never resist. At dinner with his father and a select company in a front parlour, while he was voraciously indulging his appetite for good things, another of his appetites was roused to exertion by an unusual noise in the courtyard. Up he bounced with an intention of gaining the window, but unfortu- nately forgetting that he had, with admirable grace, stuck the table cloth into his buttonhole, by the effort he exerted in rising, the dishes were displaced, and the soup overturned to the amazement and annoy- ance of the guests, and to the utter consternation of his distressed father. " Sir William Stanhope, who with less good breeding, and more satire, had perhaps as much wit as his brother, though of a kind rough aii'l unpolished, upon hearing of the Earl's bitter disappointment in his son, made the following not very brotherly remark, " Why what could Chesterfield expect from him ? His mother was a Dutch woman, he sent him to Leipsic to learn manners, and that too under the direction of an Oxford pedant ! " This pedant was doctor Harte, a good man, of considerable erudition, but certainly inelegant, both of which qualities are clearly discernible in his writings. XXX ANECDOTES OF PHILIP STANHOPE. " While I was at Rome, together with my friend Lord Bruce Stanhope and several other Englishmen, there arrived in that metro- polis an elderly gentlewoman calling herself Mrs. Peters, with a young person, supposed to be her daughter, and named Miss Eugenia Peters. The difference between the mother and the daughter was obvious and striking even to our uninterested eyes. The former was a true English goody, vulgar and unbred ; while the latter, though plain almost to ugli- ness, had apparently received the most careful education, and was accord- ingly endowed with all the choicest accomplishments of her sex. She sang well, was perfect mistress of her harpsichord, and was. in a word, as elegant as her mother was vulgar. This unnatural contrast was however with us only the talk of an hour. As [they were] Englishwomen we fre- quented their lodgings, while some of the unoccupied among us, of which number Stanhope, in spite of his father's earnest and galant exhortations, was one, persuaded themselves that they were smitten by the accomplish- ments of the amiable Eugenia. The ladies, having passed some months at Rome, set out for England, where, as I have been informed, the younger was owned by Mr. Domville, a well-known and wealthy gentleman of Ireland, for his natural daughter. At what time Stanhope made her his wife, or whether they had been contracted during their intimacy at Rome, I can not say, but it is certain upon his being appointed, through the interest of his father, minister at Hamburgh, they were generally supposed to be married, and the lady accompanied her husband to the place of his destination a circumstance which wholly alienated the already vexed and disappointed father, from his son, by defeating his few remaining hopes, and utterly disconcerting all his plans. Upon the death of Stanhope, which happened about eight years after, the widow returned to England, where she was coolly, though civilly, received by her father-in-law ; and afterward, upon the demise of Lord Chesterfield, her treatment from the remaining family, both in point of attention and of emolument, not being by any means equal to her expectations, and to what she deemed her deserts, partly out of resentment, because she well knew their dislike to publication, and partly for the sake of pecuniary advantage, which was certain, and now become necessary, in spite of remonstrances, threats, and promises, she gratified, if not improved, the world by publishing those curious Letters, of which she was the sole depositary, and which have been the subject of so much discussion, and difference of opinion. " I have said that Mrs. Stanhope accompanied her husband to the place of his destination. Of this however I am by no means certain, but rather believe that the marriage, though suspected, was not publicly known till some years after Stanhope's departure from England. From the tenor of his letters one would, at least, suppose that it had not been authenticated to Lord Chesterfield. " I forgot to mention in its proper place that vanity was not the least among Stanhope's failings, a foolish quality which principally turned, as ANECDOTES OF PHILIP SiANHOPE. XXXI well it might, upon his close connection with Lord Chesterfield, of whick great and honourable advantage he was much too apt continually to remind his hearers. Vanity usually brings on itself its own chastisement. The master of the manege at Lausanne was a man of sense, and a gentleman, and had been much too frequently teazed by Stanhope, who rode at the academy, with the perpetual repetition of his favourite expression mon pere, milord Chesterfield. To this childish folly a period was however at length put, to the mutual advantage of Stanhope and of his audience ; neither were these foolish words ever more repeated after the gentleman had made the following sharp observation : ' Comment, monsieur, milord Chesterfield est votre pere apparemment, done, miladi Chesterfield est votre mere.' " With all these failings Stanhope was, however, what is usually called a pleasant fellow. He was good humoured, though perfectly inattentive not unendowed with sense, though his talent was obscured by a naturally bad enunciation a good scholar and well versed in many of the modern languages, though the same defect attended him through them all. His face was rather handsome, but his person was Dutch-built, thick, short and clumsy, and the very reverse of grace seemed to be the essence of his whole demeanour. Yet might he have passed well enough through life, if his father had not insisted upon making him a fine gentleman ; and however the memory of Lord Chesterfield may have been affected by the publication of his letters, certainly Mrs. Stanhope has thereby most essentially injured the memory of her husband, whose obvious deficiencies have been rendered more glaring by our knowledge of the unavailing pains that were taken to obviate them. So true it is that the first principle of education is the discovery of that for which nature has fitted our pupil, and that which she has rendered it impossible for him to attain : ' Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam.' But where there is no vis insita of the sort you wish to promote, education, with all its powers, will, I fear, never be able to impart it. "Mrs. Sfcanhope had two sons by her husband, of whom Lord Chesterfield, from his letters to her, appears to have taken care. His coolness towards the mother is however also apparent from these same letters, where he never styles her daughter, or even dear madam, but simply, madam." LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS, LETTERS TO HIS SON: 1739-1754. I. A BATH, ce 17 Octobre, 1739. MON CHER ENFANT, En verite je crois que vous etes le premier gar$on a qui avant Page de huit ans on ait jamais parle des figures de la rhetorique, comme j'ai fait dans ma derniere * : mais aussi il me semble qu'on ne peut pas commencer trop jeune a y penser un peu ; et Part de persuader a Pesprit, et de toucher le coeur, merite bien qu'on y fasse attention de bonne heure. Vous concevez bien qu'un homme qui parle et qui ecrit elegam- ment et avec grace, qui choisit bien ses paroles, et qui orne et embellit la matiere sur laquelle il parle ou e"crit, persuadera raieux, et obtiendra plus facilement ce qu'il souhaite, qu'un homme qui s'explique mal, qui parle mal sa langue, qui se sert de mots bas et vulgaires, et qui enfin n'a ni grace ni elegance en tout ce qu'il dit. Or c'est cet art de bien parler, que la Rhetorique unseigne; et quoique je ne songe pas a vous y enfoncer encore, je voudrois pourtant bien vous en donner quelque idee convenabje a votre age. La premiere chose a laquelle vous devez faire attention, c'est de parler la langue que vous parlez, dans sa derniere purete, et selon les regies de la Grammaire ; car il n'est pas permis de faire des fautes contre la Grammaire, ou de se servir de mots qui ne sont pas veritablement des mots. Mais ce n'est pas encore tout, car il ne suffit point de ne pas parler mal ; mais il faut parler * Not to be found. Note by Mrs. Stanhope. VOL. I. J B 2 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. bien, et le raeilleur moyen d'y parvenir est de lire aveo attention les ineilleurs livres, et de remarquer comment les honne'ces gens et ceux qui parlent le mieux s'expriment ; car les bourgeois, le petit peuple, les laquais, et les servantes, tout cela parle mal. Us ont des expressions basses et vulgaires, dont les honnetes gens ne doivent jamais se servir. Dans les Nombres, ils joignent le singulier et le pluriel ensemble; dans les Genres, ils confondent le masculin avec le feminin ; et dans les Terns, ils prennent sou- vent 1'un pour 1'autre. Pour eVifcer toutes ces fautes, il faut lire avec soin ; remarquer le tour et les expressions des meilleurs auteurs ; et ne jamais passer un seul mot qu'on n'entend pas, ou sur lequel on a la moindre difficulte, sans en demander exacte- ment la signification. Par exemple : quand vous lisez les Meta- morphoses d'Ovide avec Monsieur Martin, il faut lui demander le sens de chaque mot que vous ne savez pas, et meme si c'est un mot dont on peut se servir en prose aussi bien qu'en vers ; car, comme je vous ai dit autrefois, le langage poetique est different du langage ordinaire, et il y a bien des mots dont on se sert dans la poesie, qu'on feroit fort mal d'employer dans la prose. De me" me quand vous lisez le Francois avec Monsieur Pelnote, demandez lui le sens de chaque nouveau mot que vous rencontrez chemin faisant, et priez le de vous donner des exemples de la maniere dont il faut s'en servir. Tout ceci ne demande qu'un peu d'attention, et pourtant il n'y a rien de plus utile. II faut (dit-on) qu'un homme soit ne Poete ; mais il peut se faire Orateur. Nasdtur Poeta, Jit Orator. C'est-a-dire, qu'il faut e~tre ne avec une certaine force et vivacite d'esprit pour e"tre Poe'te ; mais que 1'attention, la lecture, et le travail suffisent pour faire un Orateur. Adieu ! II. A BATH, ce 29 Octobre, 1 739. MON CHER ENFANT, Si 1'on peut etre trop modeste, vous 1'etes, et vous ineritez plus que vous ne demandez. Une canne & pomme d'ambre, et une paire de boucles, sont des recompenses tres modiques pour ce que vous faites, et j'y ajouterai bien quelque autre chose. La modestie est une tres bonne qualite, qui accompagne ordiuaire- ment le vrai merite. Rien ne gagne et ne pre"vient plus les LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 3 esprits qne la modestie ; comme, au contraire, rieu ne cheque et ne rebute plus que la presomption et Teffronterie. On n'aime pas un homme qui veut toujours se faire valoir, qui parle avanta- geusement de lui-me'me, et qui est toujours le heVos de son propre roman. Au contraire, un homme qui cache, pour ainsi dire, son propre merite, qui releve celui des autres, et qui parle peu et modestement de lui-meine, gagne les esprits, et se fait estimer et aimer. Mais il y a, aussi, bien de la difference entre la modestie et la ruauvaise honte; autant la modestie est louable, autant la mau- vaise honte est ridicule. II ne faut non plus etre un nigaud, qu'un effrontd ; et il faut savoir se presenter, parler aux gens, et leur repondre sans etre decontenance ou embarrass^. Les Ang- lois sont pour 1'ordinaire nigauds, et n'ont pas ces manieres aisees et libres, mais en me"me terns polies, qu'ont les Fra^ois. Eemar- quez done les Francois, et imitez les, dans leur maniere de se presenter, et d'aborder les gens. Un bourgeois ou un campag- nard a honte quand il se presente dans une compagnie ; il est ernbarrasse, ne sait que faire de ses mains, se demonte quand on lui parle, et ne repond qu'avec embarras, et presqu'en begai'ant ; au lieu qu'un honnete homme, qui sait vivre, se presente avec assurance et de bonne grace, parle me'me aux gens qu'il ne con- noit pas, sans s^embarrasser et d'une maniere tout- a-f ait naturelle et aisee. Voila ce qui s'appelle avoir du monde et savoir vivre, qui est un article tres important dans le commerce du monde. II arrive souvent qu'un homme qui a beaucoup d'esprit et qui ne sait pas vivre, est moins bien recu qu'un homme qui a moins d'esprit, mais qui a du monde. Get objet merite bien votre attention; pensez y done, et joignez la modestie a une assurance polie et aisee. Adieu ! Je regois dans le moment votre lettre du 27, qui est tres bien ecrite. III. BATH, November 1, 1739. DEAR BOY, Let us return to Oratory, or the art of speaking well ; which should never be entirely out of your thoughts, since it is so use- ful in every part of life, and so absolutely necessary in most. A 4 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. man can make no figure without it in Parliament, in the Church, or in the Law ; and, even in common conversation, a man that has acquired an easy and habitual eloquence, who speaks properly and accurately, will have a great advantage over those who speak incorrectly and inelegantly. The business of Oratory, as I have told you before, is to persuade people ; and you easily feel, that to please people is a great step towards persuading them. You must then, conse- quently, be sensible how advantageous it is for a man who speaks in public, whether it be in Parliament, in the Pulpit, or at the Bar (that is, in the Courts of Law), to please his hearers so much as to gain their attention, which he can never do without the help of Oratory. It is not enough to speak the language he speaks in, in its utmost purity, and according to the rules of grammar ; but he must speak it elegantly ; that is, he must choose the best and most expressive words, and put them in the best order. He should likewise adorn what he says by proper metaphors, similes, and other figures of rhetoric ; and he should enliven it, if he can, by quick and sprightly turns of wit. For example, suppose you had a mind to persuade Mr. Maittaire* to give you a holiday, would you bluntly say to him, Give me a holiday? That would cer- tainly not be the way to persuade him to it. But you should endeavour first to please him and gain his attention, by telling him that your experience of his goodness and indulgence en- couraged you to ask a favour of him ; that, if he should not think proper to grant it, at least you hoped he would not take it ill that you asked it. Then you should tell him what it was that you wanted ; that it was a holiday ; for which you should give your reasons ; as, that you had such or such a thing to do, or such a place to go to. Then you might urge some argu- * Michael Maittaire, selected by Lord Chesterfield as Latin tutor to his son, was an excellent scholar and the author of several editions of Greek and Latin classics ; lie was the son of French. Protestants, who had left their native country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and was educated at Westminster School, and Christ Church, Oxford. Lord Mahon quotes from M. Weiss in the Bibliographic Universelle, " Maittaire dans plusieurs circonstances a lone les qualits de Louis XIV. et rendu justice a ses intentions avec franchise et loyauteV' He was born in 1668, and died in 1747. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 5 ments why he should not refuse you ; as, that you have seldom asked that favour, and that you seldom will ; and that the mind may sometimes require a little rest from labour as well as the body. This you may illustrate by a simile, and say, that as the bow is the stronger for being sometimes unstrung and unbent, so the mind will be capable of more attention for being now and then easy and relaxed. This is a little oration, fit for such a little orator as you ; but, however, it will make you understand what is meant by oratory and eloquence, which is to persuade. I hope you will have that talent hereafter in greater matters. IV. November 20, 1739. DEAR BOY, As you are now reading the Roman History, I hope you do it with that care and attention which it deserves. The utility of History consists principally in the examples it gives us of the virtues and vices of those who have gone before us ; upon which we ought to make the proper observations. History animates and excites us to the love and the practice of virtue ; by showing us the regard and veneration that was always paid to great and virtuous men in the times in which they lived, and the praise and glory with which their names are perpetuated, and transmitted down to our times. The Roman History furnishes more examples of virtue and magnanimity, or greatness of mind, than any other. It was a common thing to see their Consuls and Dictators (who, you know, were their chief magistrates) taken from the plough, to lead their armies against their enemies ; and, after victory, returning to their plough again, and passing the rest of their lives in modest retirement ; a retirement more glorious, if possible, than the victories that preceded it ! Many of their greatest men died so poor, that they were buried at the expense of the public. Curius, who had no money of his own, refused a great sum that the Samnites offered him, saying, that he saw no glory in having money himself, but in commanding those that had. Cicero relates it thus : Curio ad focum sedenti magnum auri pondus Samnites cum attulissent, repudiati ab eo mnt. Non enim aurum habere prcedarum sibi videri, sed Us, qui haberent aurum,, imperare. 6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. And Fabricius, who had often commanded the Roman armies, and as often triumphed over their enemies, was found by his fire- side, eating those roots and herbs which he had planted and culti- vated himself in his own field. Seneca tells it thus : Fabricius ad focum coenat illas ipsas radices, quas, in agro repurgando, triumphalis Senex vulsit. Scipio, after a victory he had obtained in Spain, found among the prisoners a young princess of extreme beauty, who, he was informed, was soon to have been married to a man of quality of that country. He ordered her to be enter- tained and attended with the same care and respect as if she had been in her father's house ; and, as soon as he could find her lover, he gave her to him, and added to her portion the money that her father had brought for her ransom. Valerius Maximus says, Eximice formce virginem accersitis parentibus et sponso invio- latam tradidit, et Juvenis, et Coelebs, et Victor. This was a most glorious example of moderation, continence, and generosity, which gained him the hearts of all the people of Spain ; and made them say, as Livy tells us, Venisse Diis simillimum juvenem, vincentem omnia, cum. armis, turn benignitate ac beneficiis. Such are the rewards that always crown virtue, and such the characters that you should imitate, if you would be a great and a good man, which is the only way to be a happy one ! Adieu ! T. T> MONDAY. DEAR BOY, I was very sorry that Mr. Maittaire did not give me such an account of you yesterday as I wished aud expected. He takes so much pains to teach you, that he well deserves from you the returns of care and attention. Besides, pray consider, now that you have justly got the reputation of knowing much more than other boys of your age do, how shameful it would be for you to lose it, and to let other boys, that are now behind you, get before you. If you would but have attention, you have quick- ness enough to conceive, and memory enough to retain : but, without attention while you are learning, all the time you employ at your book is thrown away ; and your shame will be the greater if you should be ignorant, when you had such oppor- tunities of learning. An ignorant man is insignificant and con- temptible j nobody cares for his company, and he can just be LORD CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS. < said to live, and that is all. There is a very pretty French epigram upon the death of such an ignorant, insignificant fellow ; the sting of which is, that all that can be said of him is, that he was once alive, and that he is now dead. This is the epigram, which you may get by heart : Colas est mort de maladie, Tu veux que j'en pleure le sort ; Que diable veux-tu que j'en die ? Colas vivoit, Colas est mort. Take care not to deserve the name of Colas, which I shall certainly give you if you do not learn well ; and then that name will get about, and everybody will call you Colas ; which will be much worse than Frisky. You are now reading Mr. Rollings "Ancient History:"* pray remember to have your maps by you when you read it, and desire Monsieur Pelnote to show you, in the maps, all the places you read of. Adieu ! VL SATURDAY. DEAR BOY, Since you choose the name of Polyglot, I hope you will take care to deserve it, which you can only do by care and application. I confess the names of Frisky and Colas are not quite so honour- able ; but then, remember too, that there cannot be a stronger ridicule than to call a man by an honourable name when he is known not to deserve it. For example, it would be a manifest irony to call a very ugly fellow an Adonis (who, you know, was so handsome, that Venus herself fell in love with him), or to call a cowardly fellow an Alexander, or an ignorant fellow, Poly- glot; for everybody would discover the sneer j and Mr. Pope t observes very truly, that Praise undeserved is satire in disguise. Next to the doing of things that deserve to be written, there * Charles Rollin, the French historian; born in 1661 ; died, 1741. t Pope was still alive ; he died May 30th, 1744. The line is not Pope's own, hut in Imitations of Horace (ii. 1, 413) he quotes it incorrectly, sub- stituting " scandal " for " satire " ; it is from British Beauties, by Broad- hurst. 8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. is nothing that gets a man more credit, or gives him more pleasure, than to write things that deserve to be read. The younger Pliny (for there were two Plinys, the uncle and the nephew), expresses it thus: Equidem beatos puto, qidbus Deorum munere datum est, aui facere scribenda, aut legenda scribere ; beatissimos verb quibus utrumque. Pray mind your Greek particularly, for to know Greek very well is to be really learned : there is no great credit in knowing Latin, for everybody knows it ; and it is only a shame not to know it. Besides that, you will understand Latin a great deal the better for understanding Greek very well ; a great number of Latin words, especially the technical words, being derived from the Greek. Technical words mean such particular words as relate to any art or science; from the Greek word r^vrj, which signifies Art, and re^vt/co9, which signifies Artificial. Thus, a dictionary that explains the terms of art is called a Lexicon Technicum, or a Technical Dictionary. Adieu ! VII. LONGFORD, June 9, 1 740. DEAR BOY, I write to you now, in the supposition that you continue to deserve my attention as much as you did when I left London, and that Mr. Maittaire would commend you as much now as he did the last time he was with me ; for, otherwise, you know very well that I should not concern myself about you. Take care, therefore, that when I come to town I may not find myself mistaken in the good opinion I entertained of you in my absence. I hope you have got the linnets and bullfinches you so much wanted, and I recommend the bullfinches to your imitation. Bullfinches, you must know, have no natural note of their own, and never sing, unless taught ; but will learn tunes better than any other birds. This they do by attention and memory ; and you may observe, that, while they are taught, they listen with great care, and never jump about and kick their heels. Now I really think it would be a great shame for you to be outdone by your own bullfinch. I take it for granted, that, by your late care and attention, you are now perfect in Latin verses, and that you may at present LOED CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS. be called, what Horace desired to be called, Romance fidicen Lyrce. Your Greek too, I dare say, keeps pace with your Latin ; and you have all your paradigms ad unguem. You cannot imagine what alterations and improvements I expect to find every day, now that you are more than octennis. And at this age, non progredi would be regredi, which would be very shameful. Adieu ! Do not write to me ; for I shall be in no settled place to receive letters while I am in the country. VIII. PHILIPPUS CHESTERFIELD PARVULO Suo PHILIPPO STANHOPE, S.P.D. (BATH, 1740.) PERGRATA mini fuit epistola tua, quam nuper accepi, eleganter enim scripta erat, et polliceris te summam operam daturum, ut veras laudes meritb adipisci possis. Sed, ut plane dicam; valde suspicor te, in ea scribeuua, optimum et eruditissimum adjutorem habuisse ; quo duce et auspice, nee elegantia, nee doctrina, nee quicquid prorsus est dignum sapiente bonoque, unquatn tibi deesse poterit. Ilium ergo ut quam diligenter colas, te etiam atque etiam rogo; et quo magis eum omni officio, amore, et obsequio persequeris, eo magis te me studiosum, et observantem existimabo. Duse septimanse mihi ad has aquas bibendas supersunt, ante- quam in urbem revertam ; tune cura, ut te in dies doctiorem inveniam. Animo, attentione, majore diligenti& opus esfr Prsemia laboris, et industries, hinc afferam, si modo te dignu' prasbeas ; sin aliter, segnitiei pcenas dabis. Vale ! IX. BATH, October 14, 1740. DEAR BOY, Since I have recommended to you to think upon subjects, and to consider things in their various lights and circumstances, I am persuaded you have made such a progress, that I shall sometimes desire your opinion upon difficult points, in order to form my own. For instance, though I have in general a great veneration for the manners and customs of the ancients, yet I 10 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. am in some doubt whether the Ostracism of the Athenians was either just or prudent, and should be glad to be determined by your opinion. You know very well, that the Ostracism was the method of banishing those whose distinguished virtue made them popular, and consequently (as the Athenians thought) dangerous to the public liberty. And, if six hundred citizens of Athens gave in the name of any one Athenian written upon an oyster- shell (from whence it is called Ostracism), that man was banished Athens for ten years. On one hand, it is certain that a free people cannot be too careful or jealous of their liberty ; and it is certain, too, that the love and applause of mankind will always attend a man of eminent and distinguished virtue; and, consequently, they are more likely to give up their liberties to such a one, than to another of less merit. But then, on the other hand, it seems extraordinary to discourage virtue upon any account, since it is only by virtue that any society can flourish and be considerable. There are many more arguments, on each side of this question, which will naturally occur to you ; and, when you have considered them well, I desire you will write me your opinion whether the Ostracism was a right or a wrong thing, and your reasons for being of that opinion. Let nobody help you ; but give me exactly your own sentiments, and your own reasons, whatever they are. I hope Mr. Pelnote makes you read Rollin with great care and attention, and recapitulate to him whatever you have read that day ; I hope, too, that he makes you read aloud, distinctly, and observe the stops. Desire your Mamma to tell him so, from me; and the same to Mr. Martin; for it is a shame not to read perfectly well. Make my compliments to Mr. Maittaire ; and take great care that he gives me a good account of you at my return to London, or I shall be very augry with you. Adieu ! X. THURSDAY. DEAR BOY, You will seldom hear from me, without an admonition to think. All you learn, and all you can read, will be of little use, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 11 if you do not think and reason upon it yourself. One reads, to know other people's thoughts ; but if we take them upon trust, without examining and comparing them with our own, it is really living upon other people's scraps, or retailing other people's goods. To know the thoughts of others is of use, because it suggests thoughts to one's self, and helps one to form a judg- ment ; but to repeat other people's thoughts, without considering whether they are right or wrong, is the talent only of a parrot, or at most a player. If Night were given you as a subject to compose upon, you would do very well to look what the best authors have said upon it, in order to help your own invention ; but then you must think of it afterwards yourself, and express it in your own manner, or else you would be at best but a plagiary. A plagiary * is a man who steals other people's thoughts, and puts them off for his own. You will find, for example, the following account of Night in Virgil : Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem Corpora per terras ; sylvaeque et saeva quierant jEquora, cum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu ; Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes pictaeque volucres, Quasque lacus late liquidos, quaeque aspera dumis Rura tenent, somno positae sub nocte silenti, Lenibant curas, et corda oblita laborum.f Here you see the effects of Night : that it brings rest to men when they are wearied with the labours of the day ; that the stars move in their regular course; that flocks and birds repose themselves, and enjoy the quiet of the Night. This, upon exam- ination, you would find to be all true ; but then, upon, considera- tion too, you would find that it is not all that is to be said upon Night, and many more qualities and effects of Night would occur to you. As, for instance, though Night is in general the time of quiet and repose, yet it is often the time, too, for the commission and security of crimes, such as robberies, murders, and violations, which generally seek the advantage of darkness, as favourable for the escapes of the guilty. Night, too, though it brings rest * Plagiary was originally " one who steals free people out of one country and sells them in another for slaves" (Blount's Dictionary, 1670), a kidnapper, then a stealer of other men's works. Chesterfield must have been among the last to use " plagiary," instead of modern " plagiarist." t rfJneid, iv. 522-528. 12 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and refreshment to the innocent and virtuous, brings disquiet and horror to the guilty. The consciousness of their crimes torments them, and denies them sleep and quiet. You might, from these reflections, consider what would be the proper epithets to give to Night ; as, for example, if you were to represent Night in its most pleasing shape, as procuring quiet and refreshment from labour and toil, you might call it the friendly Night, the silent Night, the welcome Night, the peaceful Night: but if, on the contrary, you were to represent it as inviting to the commission of crimes, you would call it the guilty Night, the conscious Night, the horrid Night, with many other epithets that carry along with them the idea of horror and guilt ; for an epithet, to be proper, must always be adapted (that is, suited) to the circumstances of the person or thing to which it is given. Thus Virgil, who generally gives .^neas the epithet of pious, because of his piety to the gods and his duty to his father, calls him Dux ^Eneas where he represents him making love to Dido, as a proper epithet for him in that situation ; because making love becomes a general much better than a man of singular piety. Lay aside, for a few minutes, the thoughts of play, and think of this seriously. Amoto quseramus seria ludo.* Adieu ! You may come to me on Saturday morning, before you go to Mr. Maittaire. XL WEDNESDAY. DEAR BOY, You behaved yourself so well at Mr. Boden's last Sunday, that you justly deserve commendation : besides, you encourage me to give you some rules of politeness and good-breeding, being persuaded that you will observe them. Know then, that as learning, honour, and virtue are absolutely necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of mankind, politeness and good- breeding are equally necessary to make you welcome and agreeable in conversation and common life. Great talents, such as honour, virtue, learning, and parts, are above * Horace, Sat. L, i. 27. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 13 the generality of the world, who neither possess them themselves, nor judge of them rightly in others : but all people are judges of the lesser talents, such as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable address and manner ; because they feel the good effects of them, as making society easy and pleasing. Good- sense must, in many cases, determine good-breeding; because the same thing that would be civil at one time, and to one person, may be quite otherwise at another time, and to an- other person : but there are some general rules of good-breeding that hold always true, and in all cases. As, for example, it is always extremely rude to answer only Yes, or No, to anybody, without adding, Sir, my Lord, or Madam, according to the quality of the person you speak to; as, in French, you must always say, Monsieur, Milord, Madame, and Mademoiselle. I suppose you know that every married woman is, in French, Madame, and every unmarried one is Mademoiselle. It is likewise extremely rude, not to give the proper attention and a civil answer when people speak to you; or to go away, or be doing something else, while they are speaking to you ; for that convinces them tbat you despise them, and do not think it worth your while to hear or answer what they say. I dare say I need not tell you how rude it is, to take the best place in a room, or to seize immediately upon what you like at table, without offering first to help others, as if you considered nobody but yourself. On the contrary, you should always endeavour to pro- cure all the conveniences you can to the people you are with. Besides being civil, which is absolutely necessary, the perfection of good-breeding is, to be civil with ease, and in a gentlemanlike manner. For this, you should observe the French people, who excel in it, and whose politeness seems as easy and natural as any other part of their conversation ; whereas the English are often awkward in their civilities, and, when they mean to be civil, are too much ashamed to get it out. But, pray, do you remember never to be ashamed of doing what is right : you would have a great deal of reason to be ashamed, if you were not civil ; but what reason can you have to be ashamed of being civil ? And why not say a civil and an obliging thing as easily and as naturally as you would ask what o'clock it is ? This kind of bashfulness, which is justly called 14 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. by the French mauvaise honte, is the distinguishing character of an English booby, who is frightened out of his wits when people of fashion speak to him ; and, when he is to answer them, blushes, stammers, can hardly get out what he would say, and becomes really ridiculous from a groundless fear of being laughed at : whereas, a real well-bred man would speak to all the Kings in the world with as little concern and as much ease as he would speak to you. Remember, then, that to be civil, and to be civil with ease (which is properly called good-breeding), is the only way to be beloved and well received in company ; that to be ill-bred and rude is intolerable, and the way to be kicked out of company ; and that to be bashful is to be ridiculous. As I am sure you will mind and practise all this, I expect that, when you are novennis, you will not only be the best scholar, but the best-bred boy in England of your age. Adieu ! XII. PHILIPPUS CHESTERFIELD PHILIPPO STANHOPE, ADHDC PUERULO, SBD OKAS E PUERITIA EGRESSURO. S. D. Hanc ultimam ad te, uti ad puerum, epistolam mittoj eras enim, ni fallor, fies novennis, ita ut abhinc mihi tecum quasi cum adolescentulo agendum erit. Alia enim nunc ratio vitae et studiorum tibi suscipienda est ; levitas et nugae pueriles relin- quendae sunt, animusque ad seria intendendus est. Quse enim puerum decebant, adolescentulo dedecori essent. Quare omnibus viribus tibi enitendum est, ut te alium praebeas, et ut eruditione, moribus, et urbanitate, aliisque animi dotibus, adolescentulos ejusdem setatis aeque superes, ac jam puerulus puerulos tui temporis superasti. Tecum obsecro reputa, quantum tibi erube- scendum foret, si te nunc vinci patiaris ab iis quos adhuc vicisti. Exempli gratia : si adolescentulus Onslow scholaa Westmonas- teriensis nunc alumnus, olim sodalis tuus, et novennis seque ac tu, si ille, inquam, locum tibi superiorem in schola meritb obtineret, quid ageres, rogo ? Quo tenderes ? illinc enim disce- dendum foret, ubi cum dignitate manere non posses. Quare si tibi fama apud omnes, et gratia apud me, curse est, fac oinni studio et labore, ut adolescentulorum eruditorum facile princeps LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 15 merito dici possis. Sic te servet Pater Omnipotens, tibi detque ut omnibus ornatus excellas rebus. Addam etiam, quod Horatius * Tibullo suo optat, ut Gratia, fama, valetudo contingat abunde, Et mundus victus, non deficiente crumenS ! Vale! Kalend. Mali, 1741. XIII. A AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, ce 8 Juin, N.S. (1741.) MON CHER ENFANT, Me voici a Aix-la-Chapelle depuis quatre jours, d'ou je prends la liberte de vous assurer de mes respects ; ne doutant pas que vous n'ayez la bonte de me pardonner si je vous impor- tune trop souvent par mes lettres. Je sais combien votre terns est precieux, et que vous 1 'employ ez si utilement que je me ferois conscience d'interroinpre le cours de vos etudes, que vous poursuivez, sans doute, avec tant de succes et d'attention. Mais raillerie a part, j'espere que vous apprenez comme il faut, et que Monsieur Maittaire est tres content de vous, car autrement je vous assure pue je serai tres mecontent. A propos d'apprendre; je vous dirai, que j'ai vu a Bruxelles un petit garcon a peu pres de votre age, le fils du Comte de Lannoy, qui savoit le Latin parfaitement bien, jouoit la comedie, et declamoit la tragedie Fran^oise dans la derniere perfection. Mais c'est qu'il s'appliquoit, et retenoit ce qu'il avoit une fois appris. De plus il etoit tres poli ; et dans une compagnie nom- breuse, qu'il ne connoissoit pas, il n'etoit point du tout deconcerte, mais parloit et repondoit ^ un chacun avec manieres et aisance. Cette ville ici est assez grande, mais assez mauvaise ; elle s'appelle en Latin Aquisgranum : c'est la premiere ville Imperiale et libre de tout 1'Empire, c'est a dire qu'elle est gouvernee par ses propres magistrats, qu'elle choisit elle-m^tne, et qu'elle a ses droits auxquels 1'Empereur ne peut pas donner atteinte. Charle- magne y fut couronne Empereur Fan 800; et 1'on montre encore ici, dans 1'eglise cathedrale, la couronne dont il fut couronne. Elle n'est d'ailleurs fameuse que par ses eaux minerales, qui y attirent beaucoup de monde : elles sont fort chaudes et fort degoutantee, sentant les oeufs pourris. * Ep. I., iv. 10, 11. 16 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Les villes Imperiales ont voix a la Diete de 1'Empire, qai se tieiit & Ratisbonne, c'est a dire & PAssemblee de 1'Empire : c'est 1& ou les Electeurs, les Princes eb les villes Imperiales, envoyent leurs deputes pour regler les affaires de PEmpire, conjointemenb avec I'Empereur; comme notre Parlement fait en Angleterre. De sorte, que vous voyez, que 1'Empire d'Allemagne est un etat libre, dans lequel aucune loi ne peut e"tre faite sans le consente- ment de I'Empereur, des Electeurs, des Princes Souverains et des villes Imperiales. II est bon que vous sachiez les differentes formes de gouvernement des differens pays de 1'Europe ; et quand vous lisez leurs histoires faites y une attention particuliere. Adieu pour cette fois ! XIV. SPA, July 26, N.S. 1741. DEAR BOY, I have often told you in my former letters (and it is most certainly true) that the strictest and most scrupulous honour and virtue can alone make you esteemed and valued by mankind ; that parts and learning can alone make you admired and cele- brated by them ; but that the possession of lesser talents was most absolutely necessary towards making you liked, beloved, and sought after in private life. Of these lesser talents, good- breeding is the principal and most necessary one, not only as it is very important in itself; but as it adds great lustre to the more solid advantages both of the heart and the mind. I have often touched upon good-breeding to you before ; so that this letter shall be upon the next necessary qualification to it, which is a genteel, easy manner and carriage, wholly free from those odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardnesses, which even very many worthy and sensible people have in their behaviour. How- ever trifling a genteel manner may sound, it is of very great consequence towards pleasing in private life, especially the women ; which, one time or other, you will think worth pleas- ing; and I have known many a man, from his awkwardness, give people such a dislike of him at first, that all his merit could not get the better of it afterwards. Whereas a genteel manner prepossesses people in your favour, bends them towards you, and makes them wish to like you. LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 17 Awkwardness can proceed but from two causes ; either from not having kept good company, or from not having attended to it. As for your keeping good company, I will take care of that; do you take care to observe their ways and manners, and to form your own upon them. Attention is absolutely necessary for this, as indeed it is for everything else ; and a man without attention is not fit to live in the world. When an awkward fellow first comes into a room, it is highly probable that his sword gets between his legs, and throws him down, or makes him stumble at least; when he has recovered this accident, he goes and places himself in the very place of the whole room where he should not ; there he soon lets his hat fall down ; and, taking it up again, throws down his cane ; in recovering his cane, his hat falls a second time ; so that he is a quarter of an hour before he is in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he certainly scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or the saucer fall, and spills the tea or coffee in his breeches. At dinner, his awkwardness dis- tinguishes itself particularly, as he has more to do : there he holds his knife, fork, and spoon differently from other people; eats with his knife to the great danger of his mouth, picks his teeth with his fork, and puts his spoon, which has been in his throat twenty times, into the dishes again. If he is to carve, he can never hit the joint ; but, in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the sauce in everybody's face. He generally daubs himself with soup and grease, though his napkin is com- monly stuck through a button-hole, and tickles his chin. When he drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glass, and besprinkles the company. Besides all this, he has strange tricks and gestures ; such as snuffing up his nose, making faces, putting his fingers in his nose, or blowing it and looking afterwards in his hand- kerchief, so as to make the company sick. His hands are troublesome to him, when he has not something in them, and he does not know where to put them ; but they are in perpetual motion between his bosom and his breeches : he does not wear his clothes, and in short does nothing, like other people. All this, I own, is not in any degree criminal ; but it is highly dis- agreeable and ridiculous in company, and ought most carefully to be avoided by whoever desires to please. Prom this account of what you should not do, you may easily VOL. i. C 18 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. judge what you should do ; and a due attention to the manners of people of fashion, and who have seen the world, will make it habitual and familiar to you. There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and words, most carefully to be avoided ; such as false English, bad pro- nunciation, old sayings, and common proverbs; which are so many proofs of having kept bad and low company. For example : if, instead of saying that tastes are different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you should let off a proverb, and say, That what is one man's meat is another man's poison ; or else, Every one as they like, as the good man said when he kissed his cow ; everybody would be persuaded that you had never kept company with anybody above footmen and housemaids. Attention will do all this j and without attention nothing is to be done : want of attention, which is really want of thought, is either folly or madness. You should not only have attention to everything, but a quickness of attention, so as to observe, at once, all the people in the room ; their motions, their looks, and their words ; and yet without staring at them, and seeming to be an observer. This quick and unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, and is to be acquired with care ; and, on the contrary, what is called absence, which is a thoughtless- ness, and want of attention about what is doing, makes a man so like either a fool or a madman, that, for my part, I see no real difference. A fool never has thought ; a madman has lost it ; and an absent man is, for the time, without it. Adieu ! Direct your next to me, chez Monsieur Chabert, Banquier, a Paris ; and take care that I find the improvements I expect at my return. XV. SPA, August 6, 1741. DEAR BOY, I am very well pleased with the several performances you sent me, and still more so with Mr. Maittaire's letter, that accompanied them, in which he gives me a much better account of you than he did in his former. Laudari a laudato viro, was always a commendable ambition ; encourage that ambition, and continue to deserve the praises of the praiseworthy. While you do so, you shall have whatever you will from me ; and when you cease to dt so, you shall have nothing. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 19 I am glad you have begun to compose a little ; it will give you an habit of thinking upon subjects, which is at least as necessary as reading them : therefore pray send me your thoughts upon this subject : Non sibi, Bed toti genitum se credere mundo.* It is a part of Cato's character in Lucan ; who says, that Cato did not think himself born for himself only, but for all mankind. Let me know, then, whether yon think that a man is born only for his own pleasure and advantage, or whether he is not obliged to contribute to the good of the society in which he lives, and of all mankind in general. This is certain, that every man receives advantages from society, which he could not have, if he were the only man in the world ; therefore, is he not, in some measure, in debt to society ? and is he not obliged to do for others what they do for him ? You may do this in English or Latin, which you please ; for it is the thinking part, and not the language, that I mind in this case. I warned you, in my last, against those disagreeable tricks and awkwardnesses which many people contract when they are young, by the negligence of their parents, and cannot get quit of them when they are old ; such as odd motions, strange postures, and ungenteel carriage. But there is likewise an awkwardness of the mind, that ought to be, and with care may be, avoided : as, for instance, to mistake or forget names ; to speak of Mr. What-d'ye-call-him, or Mrs. Thingum, or How-d'ye- call-her, is excessively awkward and ordinary. To call people by improper titles and appellations is so too ; as my Lord, for Sir ; and Sir, for my Lord. To begin a story or narration, when you are not perfect in it, and cannot go through with it, but are forced, possibly, to say, in the middle of it, " I have forgot the rest," is very unpleasant and bungling. One must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous in everything one says ; otherwise, instead of entertaining or informing others, one only tires and puzzles them. The voice and manner of speaking, too, are not to be neg- lected : some people almost shut their mouths when they speak, and mutter so, that they are not to be understood ; others speak so fast, and sputter, that they are not to be understood either ; * PharsaUa, ii. 381, " Nee sibi," etc. 20 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. some always speak as loud as if they were talking to deaf people; and others so low that one cannot hear them. All these habits are awkward and disagreeable ; and are to be avoided by atten- tion : they are the distinguishing marks of the ordinary people, who have had no care taken of their education. You cannot imagine how necessary it is to mind all these little things ; for I Lave seen many people, with great talents, ill received, for want of having these talents too ; and others well received, only from their little talents, and who had no great ones. XVI. PARIS, August, 1741. DEAR BOY, Since my last, I have changed considerably for the better ; from the deserts of Spa to the pleasures of Paris ; which, when you come here, you will be better able to enjoy than I am. It is a most magnificent town, not near so big as London, but much finer; the houses being much larger, and all built of stone. It was not only much enlarged, but embellished, by the magnificence of the last King, Louis XIV ; * and a prodigious number of ex- pensive buildings, and useful and charitable foundations, such as libraries, hospitals, schools, etc., will long remain the monuments of the magnificence, humanity, and good government of that Prince. The people here are well-bred, just as I would have you be ; they are not awkwardly bashful and ashamed, like the English; but easily civil, without ceremony. Though they are very gay and lively, they have attention to everything, and always mind what they are about. I hope you do so too, now, and that my highest expectations of your improvement will be more than answered, at my return ; for I expect to find you construe both Greek and Latin, and likewise translate into those languages pretty readily ; and also make verses in them both, with some little invention of your own. All this may be, if you please ; and I am persuaded you would not have me disappointed. As to the genius of Poetry, I own, if nature had not given it you, you cannot have it ; for it is a true maxim, that Poeta nasci- Louis XIV., the " Grand Monarque," reigned from 1643 to 1715. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 21 tur, non Jit : but then, that is only as to the invention and imagi- nation of a Poet ; for everybody can, by application, make them- selves masters of the mechanical part of poetry ; which consists in the numbers, rhymes, measure, and harmony of verse. Ovid was born with such a genius for poetry, that he says he could not help thinking in verse, whether he would or not ; and that very often he spoke verses without intending it. It is much otherwise with oratory ; and the maxim there is, Orator Jit : for it is certain that, by study and application, every man can make himself a pretty good Orator; eloquence depending upon obser- vation and care. Every man, if he pleases, may chuse good words instead of bad ones, may speak properly instead of im- properly, may be clear and perspicuous in his recitals, instead of dark and muddy; he may have grace instead of awkwardness in his motions and gestures ; and, in short, may be a very agree- able, instead of a very disagreeable speaker, if he will take care and pains. And surely it is very well worth while to take a great deal of pains, to excel other men in that particular article, in which they excel beasts. Demosthenes, the celebrated Greek Orator, thought it so abso- lutely necessary to speak well, that though he naturally stuttered, and had weak lungs, he resolved, by application and care, to get the better of those disadvantages. Accordingly, he cured his stammering by putting small pebbles into his mouth; and streng- thened his lungs gradually, by using himself every day to speak aloud and distinctly for a considerable time. He likewise went often to the sea-shore, in stormy weather, when the sea made most noise, and there spoke as loud as he could, in order to use himself to the noise and murmurs of the popular assemblies of the Athenians, before whom he was to speak. By such care, joined to the constant study of the best authors, he became at last the greatest Orator of his own or any other age or country, though he was born without any one natural talent for it. Adieu ! Copy Demosthenes. XVII. BATH, June 28, 1742. DEAR BOY, Your promises give me great pleasure ; and your perform- ance of them, which I rely upon, will give me still greater. I 22 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. am sure you know that breaking of your word is a folly, a dis- honour, and a crime. It is a folly, because nobody will trust you afterwards j and it is both a dishonour and a crime, truth being the first duty of religion and morality : and whoever has not truth, cannot be supposed to have any one good quality, and must become the detestation of God and man. Therefore I expect, from your truth and your honour, that you will do that, which, independently of your promise, your own interest and ambition ought to incline you to do : that is, to excel in every- thing you undertake. When I was of your age, I should have been ashamed if any boy of that age had learned his book better, or played at any play better than I did ; and I would not have rested a moment till I had got before him. Julius Caesar, who had a noble thirst of glory, used to say, that he would rather be the first in a village, than the second in Rome ; and he even cried when he saw the statue of Alexander the Great, with the reflec- tion, of how much more glory Alexander had acquired at thirty years old, than he at a much more advanced age. These are the sentiments to make people considerable; and those who have them not, will pass their lives in obscurity and contempt ; whereas those who endeavour to excel all, are at least sure of excelling a great many. The sure way to excel in anything, is only to have a close and undissipated attention while you are about it ; and then you need not be half the time that otherwise you must be : for long, plodding, puzzling application, is the business of dulness ; but good parts attend regularly, and take a thing immediately. Consider, then, which you would choose ; to attend diligently while you are learning, and thereby excel all other boys, get a great reputation, and have a great deal more time to play ; or else not mind your book, let boys even younger than yourself get before you, be laughed at by them for a dunce, and have no time to play at all : for I assure you, if you will not learn, you shall not play. What is the way, then, to arrive at that perfec- tion, which you promise me to aim at ? It is, first, to do your duty towards God and man; without which, everything else signifies nothing : secondly, to acquire great knowledge ; without which, you will be a very contemptible man, though you may be LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 23 a very honest one : and, lastly, to be very well bred ; without which, you will be a very disagreeable, unpleasing man, though you should be an honest and a learned one. Remember, then, these three things, and resolve to excel in them all ; for they comprehend whatever is necessary and useful for this world or the next : and, in proportion as you improve in them, you will enjoy the affection and tenderness of Yours. XVIII. Saturday, SIR, The fame of your erudition, and other shining qualifications, having reached to Lord Orrery,* he desired me, that you might dine with him and his son, Lord Boyle, next Sunday ; which I told him you should. By this time, I suppose, you have heard from him ; but, if you have not, you must, however, go there between two and three to-morrow, and say, that you come to wait upon Lord Boyle, according to his Lordship's orders, which I informed you of. As this will deprive me of the honour and pleasure of your company at dinner to-morrow, I will hope for it at breakfast, and shall take care to have your chocolate ready. Though I need not tell one of your age, experience, and know- ledge of the world, how necessary good -breeding is, to recom- mend one to mankind ; yet, as your various occupations of Greek and cricket, Latin and pitch- farthing, may possibly divert your attention from this object, I take the liberty of reminding you of it, and desiring you to be very well-bred at Lord Orrery's. It is good-breeding alone that can prepossess people in your favour at first sight; more time being necessary to discover greater talents. This good- breeding, you know, does not con- sist in low bows and formal ceremony ; but in an easy, civil, and respectful behaviour. You will, therefore, take care to answer with complaisance, when you are spoken to ; to place yourself at the lower end of the table, unless bid to go higher; to drink first to the lady of the house, and next to the master ; not to eat awk- wardly or dirtily ; not to sit when others stand ; and to do all this with an air of complaisance, and not with a grave, sour look, * John, who succeeded his father in 1731 as fifth Earl of Orrery, and in 1751 succeeded to the Earldom of Cork; born, 1707, died, 1762. 24 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. as if you did it all unwillingly. I do not mean a silly, insipid smile, that fools have when they would be civil ; but an air of sensible good-humour. I hardly know anything so difficult to attain, or so necessary to possess, as perfect good- breeding ; which is equally inconsistent with a stiff formality, an imperti- nent forwardness, and an awkward bashfulness. A little cere- mony is often necessary ; a certain degree of firmness is abso- lutely so ; and an outward modesty is extremely becoming : the knowledge of the world, and your own observations, must, and alone can, tell you the proper quantities of each. Mr. Fitzgerald was with me yesterday, and commended you much ; go on to deserve commendations, and you will certainly meet with them. Adieu. XIX. Friday Morning. DEAR BOY, I am very well pleased with the substance of your letter; and as for the inaccuracies with regard to style and grammar, you could have corrected them all yourself, if you had taken time. I return it to you here corrected, and desire that you will attend to the difference, which is the way to avoid the same faults for the future. I would have your letter, next Thursday, be in English, and let it be written as accurately as you are able ; I mean with re- spect to the language, grammar, and stops ; for, as to the matter of it, the less trouble you give yourself, the better it will be. Letters should be easy and natural, and convey to the persons to whom we send them, just what we would say to those persons, if we were with them. You may as well write it on the Wednes- day, at your leisure, and leave it to be given to my man when he comes for it on Thursday. Monsieur Coderc will go to you three times a week ; Tuesdays and Saturdays, at three of the clock, and Thursdays at five. He will read Modern History with you ; and, at the same time, in- struct you in Geography and Chronology ; without both which, the knowledge of History is very imperfect, and almost useless. I beg, therefore, that you will give great attention to them ; they will be of the greatest use to you. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 25 As I know you do not love to stay long in the same place, I flatter myself that you will take care not to remain long in that you have got, in the middle of the third form : it is in your own power to be soon out of it, if you please; and I hope the love of variety will tempt yon. Pray be very attentive and obedient to Mr. Fitzgerald : I am particularly obliged to him for undertaking the care of you ; and if you are diligent, and mind your business when with him, you will rise very fast in the school. Every remove (you know) is to be attended by a reward from me, besides the credit you will gain for yourself; which, to so great a soul as yours, I presume, is a stronger inducement than any other reward can be ; but, how- ever, you shall have one. I know very well you will not be easy till you are got above Master Onslow ; but as he learns very well, I fear you will never be able to do it, at least not without taking more pains than, I believe, you will care to take ; but, should that ever happen, there shall be a very considerable reward for you, besides Fame. Let me know, in your next, what books you read in your place at school, and what you do with Mr. Fitzgerald. Adieu. XX. DDBLIN CASTLE, November 19, 1745. DEAR BOY, I have received your last Saturday's performance, with which I am very well satisfied. I know or have heard of no Mr. St. Maurice ; and young Pain, whom I have made an Ensign, was here upon the spot, as were every one of those I have named in these new levies. Now that the Christmas breaking- up draws near, I have ordered Mr. Desnoyers to go to you, during that time, to teach you to dance. I desire you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of your arms ; which, with the manner of putting on your hat, and giving your hand, is all that a gentleman need attend to. Dancing is in itself a very trifling, silly thing; but it is one of those established follies to which people of sense are sometimes obliged to conform ; and then they should be able to do it well. And, though I would not have you a dancer, yet, when you do 26 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. dance, I would have you dance well, as I would have you do everything you do, well. There is no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is to be done at all) ought to be done well. And I have often told you, that I wished you even played at pitch, and cricket, better than any boy at Westminster. For instance; dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it is a very foolish thing for a man not to be well dressed, according to his rank and way of life ; and it is so far from being a disparagement to any man's understanding, that it is rather a proof of it, to be as well dressed as those whom he lives with : the difference in this case, between a man of sense and a fop, is, that the fop values himself upon his dress ; and the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he must not neglect it : there are a thousand foolish customs of this kind, which, not being criminal, must be complied with, and even cheerfully, by men of sense. Diogenes the Cynic was a wise man for despising them ; but a fool for showing it. Be wiser than other people it you can ; but do not tell them so. It is a very fortunate thing for Sir Charles Hotham* to have fallen into the hands of one of your age, experience, and know- ledge of the world. I am persuaded you will take infinite care of him. Good night. XXI. DUBLIN CASTLE, January 25, 1 746. DEAR BOY, As there are now four mails due from England, one of which, at least, will, I suppose, bring me a letter from you, I take this opportunity of acknowledging it beforehand, that you may not accuse me (as you once or twice have done) of negligence. I am very glad to find, by your letter which I am to receive, that you are determined to apply yourself seriously to your business ; to attend to what you learn, in order to learn it well ; and to reflect and reason upon what you have learned, that your learning may be of use to you. These are very good resolutions, and I * Lord Chesterfield's nephew, son of Sir Charles and Lady Gertrude Hotham, a lad about the same age as young Stanhope. He succeeded to the baronetcy in 1737, but dying without issue in 1767, it reverted to his uncle, Beaumont. See Letter to the Countess of Suffolk, Nov. 1766. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 27 applaud you mightily for them. Now for your last letter, which I have received. You rebuke me very severely for not knowing, o'r at least not remembering, that you have been some time in the fifth form. Here, I confess, I am at a loss what to say for myself; for, on the one hand, I own it is not probable that you would not, at the time, have communicated an event of that importance to me ; and, on the other hand, it is not likely that, if you had informed me of it, I could have forgotten it. You say that it happened six months ago ; in which, with all due submission to you, I apprehend you are mistaken, because that must have been before 1 left England, which I am sure it was not ; and it does not appear, in any of your original manuscripts, that it happened since. May not this possibly proceed from the oscitancy of the writer? To this oscitancy of the librarians we owe so many mistakes, hiatuses, lacunae, etc., in the ancient manuscripts. It may here be necessary to explain to you the meaning of the Oscitantes librarii ; which, I believe, you will easily take. These persons (before printing was invented) transcribed the works of authors, sometimes for their own profit, but oftener (as they were generally slaves) for the profit of their masters. In the first case, dispatch, more than accuracy, was their object ; for the faster they wrote the more they got : in the latter case (observe this), as it was a task imposed ou them, which they did not dare to refuse, they were idle, careless, and incorrect ; not giving them- selves the trouble to read over what they had written. The celebrated Atticus kept a great number of these transcribing slaves, and got great sums of money by their labours. But to return now to your fifth form, from whence I have strayed, it may be, too long : Pray what do you do in that country ? Be so kind as to give me a description of it. What Latin and Greek books do you read there ? Are your exercises, exercises of invention ? or do you still put the bad English of the psalms into bad Latin, and only change the shape of Latin verse, from long to short, and from short to long ? People do not improve, singly, by travelling, but by the observations they make, and by keeping good company where they do travel. So, I hope, in your travels through the fifth form, you keep company with Horace and Cicero, among the Romans ; and Homer and 28 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Xenophon, among the Greeks ; and that you are got out of the worst company in the world, the Greek epigrams. Martial has wit, and is worth your looking into sometimes; but I recommend the Greek epigrams to your supreme contempt. Good night to you. XXII. DUBLIN CASTLE, February 8, 1746. SIB, I have been honoured with two letters from you, since I troubled you with my last ; and I have likewise received a letter from Mr. Morel, containing a short, but beautiful manuscript, said to be yours ; but, I confess, I can hardly believe it, because it is so very different from your common writing ; and I will not suppose that you do not always write as well as you can ; for to do anything ill, that one can do well, is a degree of negligence which I can never suspect you of. I always applauded your laudable ambition of excelling in everything you attempted ; and therefore make no doubt but that you will, in a little time, be able to write full as well as the person (whoever he was) that wrote that manuscript, which is said to be yours. People like you have a contempt for mediocrity, and are not satisfied with escaping censure; they aim at praise, and, by desiring, seldom fail deserving and acquiring it. You propose, I find, Demosthenes for your model ; and you have chosen very well : but remember the pains he took to be what he was. He spoke near the sea, in storms, both to use himself to speak loud, and not to be disturbed by the noise and tumult of public assemblies ; he put stones in his mouth, to help his elocution, which naturally was not advantageous : from which facts, I conclude, that whenever he spoke, he opened both his lips and his teeth ; and that he articulated every word and every syllable distinctly, and full loud enough to be heard the whole length of my library. As he took so much pains for the graces of oratory only, I conclude he took still more for the more solid parts of it. I am apt to think he applied himself extremely, to the propriety, the purity, and the elegance of his language ; to the distribution of the parts of his oration ; to the force of his arguments ; to the LORD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTEBS. 29 strength of his proofs ; and to the passions, as well as the judg- ments, of his audience. I fancy he began with an exordium,, to gain the good opinion and the affections of his audience ; that afterwards he stated the point in question, briefly, but clearly ; that he then brought his proofs, afterwards his arguments ; and that he concluded with a peroratio, in which he recapitulated the whole succinctly, enforced the strong parts, and artfully slipped over the weak ones; and at last made his strong push at the passions of his hearers. Wherever you would persuade or prevail, address yourself to the passions; it is by them that mankind is to be taken. Csesar bade his soldiers, at the battle of Pharsalia, aim at the faces of Pompey's men; they did so, and prevailed. I bid you strike at the passions ; and if you do, you too will prevail. If you can once engage people's pride, love, pity, ambition (or whichever is their prevailing passion), on your side, you need not fear what their reason can do against you. I am, with the greatest respect, Your etc. XXIII. DUBLIN CASTLE, February 26, 1746. Sunt quibus in Satira videar nimis acer. I find, Sir, you are one of those ; though I cannot imagine wny you think so, unless something that I have said, very inno- cently, has happened to be very applicable to somebody or other of your acquaintance. He makes the satire, who applies it ; qni capit, ille facit. I hope you do not think I meant you, by any- thing I have said ; because, if you do, it seems to imply a consciousness of some guilt, which 1 dare not presume to suppose, in your case. I know my duty too well, to express, and your merit too well, to entertain such a suspicion. I have not lately read the satirical authors you mention, having very little time here to read. But, as soon as I return to England, there is a book that I shall read over very carefully ; a book that I published not quite fourteen years ago : it is a small quarto ; and, though I say it myself, there is something good in it ; but, at the same time, it is so incorrect, so inaccurate, and has so many faults, that I must have a better edition of it published, 30 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. which I will carefully revise and correct. It will soon be much more generally read than it has been yet ; and therefore it is necessary that it should prodire in lucem multo erntndatior. I believe you have seldom dipped into this book ; and moreover, I believe it will be the last book that you will read with proper attention ; otherwise, if you would take the trouble, you could help me, in this new edition, more than anybody. If you will promise me your assistance, I will tell you the book ; till then, I shall not name it. You will find all the Spectators that are good, that is, all Addison's, in my library, in one large quarto volume of his works; which is perfectly at your service. Pray tell Monsieur Coderc, (who you, with great grammatical purity, say has been to General Cornwall,) that I do not doubt, but that whole affair will be set right in a little time. Adieu. XXIV. DUBLIN CASTLE, .March 10, 1746. SIB, I most thankfully acknowledge the honour of two or three letters from you, since I troubled you with my last ; and am very proud of the repeated instances you give me of your favour and protection, which I shall endeavour to deserve. I am very glad you went to hear a trial in the Court of King's Bench, and still more so, that you made the proper animad- versions upon the inattention of many of the people in the Court. As you observed very well the indecency of that inattention, I am sure you will never be guilty of anything like it yourself. There is no surer sign in the world of a little, weak mind, than inattention. Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well ; and nothing can be done well without attention. It is the sure answer of a fool, when you ask him about anything that was said or done where he was present, that, " truly he did not mind it." And why did not the fool mind it ? What had he else to do there, but to mind what was doing ? A man of sense sees, hears, and retains everything that passes where he is. I desire I may never hear you talk of not minding, nor complain, as most iools do, of a treacherous memory. Mind not only what people say, but how they say it; and, if LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 31 you have any sagacity, you may discover more truth by your eyes than by your ears. People can say what they will, but they cannot look just as they will ; and their looks frequently dis- cover, what their words are calculated to conceal. Observe, therefore, people's looks carefully, when they speak, not only to you, but to each other. I have often guessed, by people's faces, what they were saying, though I could not hear one word they said. The most material knowledge of all, I mean the knowledge of the world, is never to be acquired without great attention ; and I know many old people, who, though they have lived long in the world, are but children still as to the knowledge of it, from their levity and inattention. Certain forms, which all people comply with, and certain arts, which all people aim at, hide, in some degree, the truth, and give a general exterior resemblance to almost everybody. Attention and sagacity must see through that veil, and discover the natural character. You are of an age, now, to reflect, to observe and compare characters, and to arm yourself against the common arts, at least, of the world. If a man, with whom you are but barely acquainted, to whom you have made no offers, nor given any marks of friendship, makes you, on a sudden, strong professions of his, receive them with civility, but do not repay them with confidence ; he certainly means to deceive you ; for one man does not fall in love with another at sight. If a man uses strong protestations or oaths, to make you believe a thing, which is of itself so likely and probable, that the bare saying of it would be sufficient, depend upon it he lies, and is highly interested in making you believe it ; or else he would not take so much pains. In about five weeks, I propose having the honour of laying myself at your feet; which I hope to find grown longer than they were when I left them. Adieu. XXV. DUBLIN CASTLE, April 5, 1746. DEAR BOY, Before it is very long, I am of opinion, that you will both think and speak more favourably of women than you do now. You seem to think, that, from Eve downwards, they have done a great deal of mischief. As for that Lady, I give her up to 32 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. yon ; but, since her time, history will inform you, that men have done much more mischief in the world than women ; and, to say the truth, 1 would not advise you to trust either, more than is absolutely necessary. But this I will advise you to, which is, never to attack whole bodies of any kind ; for, besides that all general rules have their exceptions, you unnecessarily make your- self a great number of enemies, by attacking a corps collectively. Among women, as among men, there are good as well as bad, and it may be full as many, or more, good than among men. This rule holds as to lawyers, soldiers, parsons, courtiers, citizens, etc. They are all men, subject to the same passions and senti- ments, differing only in the manner, according to their several educations : and it would be as imprudent as unjust to attack any of them by the lump. Individuals forgive sometimes; but bodies and societies never do. Many young people think it very genteel and witty to abuse the Clergy ; in which they are ex- tremely mistaken ; since, in my opinion, parsons are very like men, and neither the better nor the worse for wearing a black gown. All general reflections, upon nations and societies, are the trite, threadbare jokes of those who set up for wit without having any, and so have recourse to common-place. Judge of individuals from your own knowledge of them, and not from their sex. profession, or denomination. Though, at my return, which, I hope, will be very soon, I shall not find your feet lengthened, I hope I shall find your head a good deal so, and then I shall not much mind your feet. In two or three months after my return, you and I shall part for some time : you must go to read men, as well as books, of all languages and nations. Observation and reflection will then be very necessary for you. We will talk this matter over fully when we meet ; which, I hope, will be in the last week of this month; till when, I have the honour of being Your most faithful servant. XXVI. BATH, September 29, O.S. 1746. DEAR BOY, I received by the last mail your letter of the 23rd N.S. from Ht-idelberg; and am very well pleased to find that you inform LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 33 yourself of the particulars of the several places you go through. You do mighty right to see the curiosities in those several places ; such as the Golden Bull at Frankfort,* the tun at Heidelberg, f etc. Other travellers see them and talk of them, it is very proper to see them too; but remember, that seeing is the least material object of travelling; hearing and knowing are the essential points. Therefore pray let your inquiries be chiefly directed to the knowledge of the constitution and particular customs of the places where you either reside at, or pass through ; whom they belong to, by what right and tenure, and since when ; in whom the supreme authority is lodged ; and by what Magis- trates, and in what manner, the civil and the criminal justice is administered. It is likewise necessary to get as much acquaint- ance as you can, in order to observe the characters and manners of the people ; for, though human nature is in truth the same through the whole human species, yet it is so differently modified and varied, by education, habit, and different customs, that one should, upon a slight and superficial observation, almost think it different. As I have never been in Switzerland myself, I must desire you to inform me, now and then, of the constitution of that country. As for instance : Do the Thirteen Cantons, jointly and col- lectively, form one government, where the supreme authority is lodged; or is each Canton sovereign in itself, and under no tie or constitutional obligation of acting in common concert with the other Cantons ? Can any one Canton make war or alliances with a foreign Power, without the consent of the other twelve, or at least a majority of them ? Can one Canton declare war against another ? If every Canton is sovereign and independent in itself, in whom is the supreme power of that Canton lodged ? Is it in one man, or in a certain number of men ? If in one man, * The Golden Bull, so called from the Seal of Gold affixed to it, was granted by the Emperor Charles the Fourth. By this Act the right of Election to the Germanic Empire was confirmed in three spiritual and four temporal Electors, the Archbishops of Mentz, Cologne, and Treves, the King of Bohemia, the Count Palatine, the Duke of Saxony, and the Margrave of Brandenburg. (Butler's Revolutions of the Germanic Empire, p. 105.) M. + This enormous tun was said to be twenty-four feet in diameter and thirty in depth. (Voyages de Monconys, vol. iii. p. 182.) M. VOL. I. D 34 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. what is he called ? If in a number, what are they called ; Senate, Council, or what? I do not suppose that you can yet know these things yourself : but a very little inquiry, of those who do, will enable you to answer me these few questions in your next. You see, I am sure, the necessity of knowing these things thoroughly, and, consequently, the necessity of conversing much with the people of the country, who alone can inform you rightly : whereas, most of the English who travel, converse only with each other, and consequently, know no more, when they return to England, than they did when they left it. This proceeds from a mauvaise honte, which makes them ashamed of going into company ; and frequently too from the want of the necessary language (French) to enable them to bear their part in it. As for the mauvaise honte, I hope you are above it. Your figure is like other people's ; I suppose you will take care that your dress shall be so too, and to avoid any singularity. What then should you be ashamed of; and why not go inttf a mixed company, with as much ease, and as little concern, as you would go into your own room ? Vice and ignorance are the only things I know, which one ought to be ashamed of : keep but clear of them, and you may go anywhere, without fear or concern. I have known some people, who, from feeling the pain and in- conveniences of this mauvaise honte, have rushed into the other extreme, and turned impudent ; as cowards sometimes grow desperate from the excess of danger : but this too is carefully to be avoided; there being nothing more generally shocking than impudence. The medium, between these two extremes, marks out the well-bred man; he feels himself firm and easy in all companies; is modest without being bashful, and steady without being impudent; if he is a stranger, he observes with care, the manners and ways of the people the most esteemed at that place, and conforms to them with complaisance. Instead of finding fault with the customs of that place, and telling the people that the English ones are a thousand times better, (as my countrymen are very apt to do,) he commends their table, their dress, their houses, and their manners, a little more, it may be, than he really thinks they deserve. But this degree of complaisance is neither criminal nor abject; and is but a small price to pay for the good- will and affection of the people you LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 35 converse with. As the generality of people are weak enough to be pleased with these little things, those who refuse to please them so cheaply, are, in my mind, weaker than they. There is a very pretty little French book, written by L'Abbe de Bellegarde,* entitled, L'Art de plaire dans la Conversation ; and, though I confess that it is impossible to reduce the art of pleasing to a system, yet this book is not wholly useless ; I dare say you may get it at Geneva, if not at Lausanne, and I would advise you to read it. But this principle I will lay down, That the desire of pleasing is at least half the art of doing it; the rest depends only upon the manner, which attention, observation, and frequenting good company will teach. But if you are lazy, careless, and indifferent whether you please or not, depend upon it you never will please. This letter is insensibly grown too long ; but, as I always flatter myself that my experience may be of some use to your youth and inexperience, I throw out, as it occurs to me, and shall continue to do so, everything that I think may be of the least advantage to you in this important and decisive period of your life. God preserve you ! P.S. I am much better, and shall leave this place soon. XXVII. BATH, October 4, O.S. 1746. DEAR BOY, Though I employ so much of my time in writing to you, 1 confess I have often my doubts whether it is to any purpose. I know how unwelcome advice generally is; I know that those who want it most, like it and follow it least; and I know, too, that the advice of parents, more particularly, is ascribed to the morose- ness, the imperiousness, or the garrulity of old age. But then, on the other hand, I flatter myself, that as your own reason, though too young as yet to suggest much to you of itself, is how- ever, strong enough to enable you, both to judge of, and receive plain truths : I flatter myself (I say) that your own reason, young as it is, must tell you, that I can have no interest but yours in the advice I give you ; and that consequently, you will at least * Jean Baptist de Bellegarde, a French Jesuit, but expelled from that order, translated St. Chrysostom, Thomas a Kempis, etc. ; died 1734. 36 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. weigh and consider it well : in which case, some of it will, I hope, have its effect. Do not think that I mean to dictate as a parent ; I only mean to advise as a friend, and an indulgent one too : and do not apprehend that I mean to check your pleasures ; of which, on the contrary, I only desire to be the guide, not the censor. Let my experience supply your want of it, and clear your way, in the progress of your youth, of those thorns and briars which scratched and disfigured me in the course of mine. I do not, therefore, so much as hint to you, how absolutely dependent you are upon me ; that you neither have, nor can have a shilling in the world but from me ; and that, as I have no womanish weak- ness for your person, your merit must and will, be the only measure of my kindness. I say, I do not hint these things to you, because I am convinced that you will act right, upon more noble and generous principles : I mean, for the sake of doing right, and out of affection and gratitude to me. I have so often recommended to you attention and application to whatever you learn, that I do not mention them now as duties ; but I point them out to you as conducive, nay, absolutely necessary to your pleasures ; for can there be a greater pleasure than to be universally allowed to excel those of one's own age and manner of life ? And, consequently, can there be anything more mortifying than to be excelled by them ? In this latter case, your shame and regret must be greater than anybody's, because everybody knows the uncommon care which has been taken of your education, and the opportunities you have had of knowing more than others of your age. I do not confine the application which I recommend, singly to the view and emulation of excelling others (though that is a very sensible pleasure and a very warrantable pride) ; but I mean likewise to excel in the thing itself ; for, in my mind, one may as well not know a thing at all, as know it but imperfectly. To know a little of anything, gives neither satisfaction nor credit j but often brings disgrace or ridicule. Mr. Pope says, very truly, A little knowledge is a dangerous thing Drink deep, or taste not the Castalian spring.* * In 'the Essay on Criticism, 215. Quoted again in Letter LXXXIV. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 37 And what is called a smattering of everything, infallibly con- stitutes a coxcomb. I have often, of late, reflected what an unhappy man I must now have been, if I had not acquired in my youth some fund and taste of learning. What could I have done with myself, at this age, without them ? I must, as many ignorant people do, have destroyed my health and faculties by sotting away the evenings; or, by wasting them frivolously in the tattle of women's company, must have exposed myself to the ridicule and contempt of those very women ; or, lastly, I must have hanged myself, as a man once did, for weariness of putting on and pulling off his shoes and stockings every day. My books, and only my books, are now left me; and I daily find what Cicero says of learning, to be true : " Hcec studia (says he) adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium ac solatium prcebent, delectant domi, non impediunt foris, pernoc- tant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur." I do not mean, by this, to exclude conversation out of the pleasures of an advanced age ; on the contrary, it is a very great and a very rational pleasure, at all ages ; but the conversation of the ignorant is no conversation, and gives even them no pleasure : they tire of their own sterility, and have not matter enough to furnish them with words to keep up a conversation. Let me, therefore, most earnestly recommend to you to hoard up, while you can, a great stock of knowledge; for though, during the dissipation of your youth, you may not have occasion to spend much of it, yet, you may depend upon it, that a time will come when you will want it to maintain you. Public gran- aries are filled in plentiful years ; not that it is known that the next, or the second, or third year will prove a scarce one ; but because it is known, that, sooner or later, such a year will come, in which the grain will be wanted. I will say no more to you upon this subject ; you have Mr. Harte* with you to enforce it; you have Reason to assent to the * The Eev. Walter Harte, M.A., of Oxford, who had been selected by Lord Chesterfield as travelling tutor to his son, and who will be found frequently mentioned in the course of this correspondence. The choice though made on the recommendation of Lord Lyttelton, was not judicious, or at least not successful. " We have reason to suspect," says Dr. Maty, that Mr. Harte's partiality to Greek, Latin, German law, and Gothic erudition, rendered him rather remiss in other points." And indeed at 38 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. truth of it ; so that, in short, " you have Moses and the Prophets ; if you will not believe them, neither will you believe, though one rose from the dead." Do not imagine that the knowledge which I so much recommend to you, is confined to books, pleasing, useful, and necessary as that knowledge is : but I comprehend in it the great knowledge of the world, still more necessary than that of books. In truth, they assist one another reciprocally; and no man will have either perfectly, who has not both. The knowledge of the world is only to be acquired in the world, arid not in a closet. Books alone will never teach it you ; but they will suggest many things to your observation, which might other- wise escape you ; and your own observations upon mankind, when compared with those which you will find in books, will help yon to fix the true point. To know mankind well, requires full as much attention and application as to know books, and, it may be, more sagacity and discernment. I am at this time, acquainted with many elderly people, who have all passed their whole lives in the great world, but with such levity and inattention, that they know no more of it now, than they did at fifteen. Do not flatter yourself, therefore, with the thoughts that you can acquire this knowledge in the frivolous chit-chat of idle companies; no, you must go much deeper than that. You must look into people, as well as at them. Almost all people are born with all the passions, to a certain degree ; but almost every man has a prevailing one, to which the others are subordinate. Search every one for that ruling passion ; * pry into the recesses of his heart, and observe the different workings of the same passion in different people. And, when you have found out the prevailing passion of any man, remember never to trust him where that passion is con- the very outset Lord Chesterfield writes of him : " Get Anglois est d'une erudition consomme'e . . . mais il ne sera guere propre a donner des- manieres ou le ton de la bonne compagnie; chose pourtant tres neces- saire." (To Madame de Monconseil, June 24, 1745.) M. Harte published a poetical collection called the Amaranth, a History of Gustavus Adolphus, and Essays on Husbandry. He died in 1773. See the Index. * Search then the ruling passion ; there alone The wild are constant, and the cunning known. Pope, Moral Essays, I. 274. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 39 cerned. Work upon him by it, if you please ; but be upon your guard yourself against it, whatever professions he may make you. I would desire you to read this letter twice over, but that I much doubt whether you will read once to the end of it. I will trouble you no longer now ; but we will have more upon this subject hereafter. Adieu. I have this moment received your letter from Schaffhausen ; in the date of it you forgot the month. XXVIII. BATH, October 9, O.S. 1746. DEAR BOY, Your distress in your journey from Heidelberg to Schaff- hausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your broken Berline, are proper seasonings 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 accidents, 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 repair; 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 affection for you was not a weak, womanish one ; and, far from blinding me, it makes me but more quick- sighted, 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 peculiar weakness of the head ; but I have discovered laziness, inattention, and in- 40 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. difference ; faults which are only pardonable 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 viuida vis animi, which spurs and excites most young men to please, to shine, to excel. Without the desire and the pains necessary to be considerable, depend upon it, you never can be so; as, with- out 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 labour, 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 constitu- tions, 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 reading the best authors with care, and by attention to the best living models. These are the qualifications more particularly necessary tor you in your department, which you may be possessed of, if you please ; and which, I tell you fairly, I shall be very angry with 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 considerable, 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 lowest things, even to dancing and dress. Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man; LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 41 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 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, with whom yesterday he appeared to live in in- timacy. 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 dreatn. 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 Newton,* Mr. Locke. f 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 investigating 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 in- voluntary absence, 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, * Born 1642, died 1727. t Born 1632, died 1704. 42 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 common antipathies,) or, by inattention and negligence, to let 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 possibly 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 ! XXIX. (October, 1746.) DEAR BOY, You are by this time (I suppose) quite settled 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 your- self daily of the nature of the government and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons : and, as I am ignoraut of them myself, I must apply 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 Sautier. I desire, therefore, that you will let me know what is the particular business, department, or province of these several Magistrates. But, as I imagine that there may be some. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 43 though, I believe, no essential difference, in the governments of the several Cantons, I would not give you the trouble of inform- ing 1 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 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 8. M. Britannique, a Rotterdam, who will take care to send them to me safe. The reason why you have not received letters, either from me or from Greven- kop,* 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, L 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 impatient to hear how other matters go, after your settlement at Lausanne. God bless you ! XXX. LONDON, December 2, O.S. 1746. DEAR BOY, I have not, in my present situation, f time to write to you,' either so much or so often as I used, while I was in a place of * Mr. Grevenkop was a Danish gentleman, who had been Page of Honour to Alexander, Earl of Marchmont, during 'his mission to Denmark, and who remained attached to his family. (Note to the Marchmont Papers, vol. i. p. 187.) His services were afterwards, it would appear, transferred to Lord Chesterfield, who observes, in his last letter to his son, " Writing to Grevenkop or myself is the same thing." (October 17, 1768.) M. f Secretary of State. 44 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. much more leisure 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 25th 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 good account which he gives me of you ; with yours, for the good account you give me of what I desired to be informed of. Pray continue to give me further information 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 ; be- cause 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 advan- tage, he mentions the tender uneasiness and concern that you showed during my illness ; for which (though I will say that you owe it 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 non- sense,) the only return I desire is, what it is chiefly your interest to make me j I mean, your invariable practice of Virtue, and your indefatigable pursuit of Knowledge. Adieu ! and be per- suaded that I shall love you extremely, while you deserve it ; but not one moment longer. XXXI. 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 with- * Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 45 out 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 which I have sometimes taken the liberty to speak to you of. 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 it requires more strength of body and mind than I have, to go through with it. 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 those 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 reading, 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 im- mediate 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 ! XXXII. i LONDRES, ce 24 Ftv. N.S. 1747. MONSIEUR, Pour entretenir reciproquement notre Francois, que nous courons risque d'oublier tous deux faute d'habitude, vous per- mettrez bien, que j'aie 1'honneur de vous assurer de mes respects, dans cette langue, et vous aurez aussi la bonte de me repondre dans la m^me. Ce n'est pas que je craigne que vous oubliez de 46 LORD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTEBS. parler Francois, puisque apparemment les deux tiers de votre caquet quotidien sont dans cette langue; raais c'est que si vous vous desaccoutumiez d'ecrire en Fransois, vous pourriez, un jour, manquer & cette purete grammaticale et & cette orthographe exacte, par ou vous brillez tant dans les autres langues : et au bout du compte, il vaut mieux ecrire bien que mal, meme en Franpois. Au reste, comme c'est une langue faite pour 1'enjouement et le badinage, je m'y conformerai et je reserverai mon serieux pour 1'Anglois. Je ne vous parlerai done pas & present, de votre Grec, votre Latin, v6tre Droit, soit de la Nature ou des Gens, soit pub- lic ou particulier ; mais parlons plut6t de vos amusemens et de vos plaisirs : puisqu'aussi bien il en faut avoir. Oserois-je vous demander quels sont les votres ? Est ce un petit jeu de societe, en bonne compagnie? Est-il question de petits soupers agreables, ou la gaiete et la bienseance se trouvent reunies ? Ou, en contez vous & quelque Belle, vos attentions pour laquelle contribueroient a vous decrotter ? Faites moi votre confident sur cette matiere, vous ne me trouverez pas un censeur severe ; au contraire, je sollicite 1'emploi de ministre de vos plaisirs : je vous en indiquerai, et meme j'y contribuerai. Nombre de jeunes gens se livrent a des plaisirs qu'ils ne gou- tent point, parceque, par abus, ils ont le nom de plaisirs. Us s'y trompent meme, souvent, au point de prendre la de'bauche pour le plaisir. Avoiiez que 1'ivrognerie, qui ruine egalement la sante et 1'esprit, est un beau plaisir. Le gros jeu, qui vous cause mille mauvaises affaires, qui ne vous laisse pas le sol, et qui vous donne tout Pair et les manieres d'un possede, est un plaisir bien exquis : n'est ce pas ? La debauche des femmes, a la verite, n'a gueres d'autre suite, que de faire tomber le nez, ruiner la sante', et vous attirer, de terns en terns, quelques coups d'epee. Bagatelles que cela ! Voila, cependant, le catalogue des plaisirs de la plupart des jeunes gens, qui ne raisonnent pas, par eux memes, et qui adoptent, sans discernement, ce qu'il plait aux autres d'appeller du beau nom de Plaisir. Je suis tres persuade que vous ne tomberez pas dans ces egaremens, et que, dans le choix de vos plaisirs, vous consulterez votre raison et votre gout. La societe des honnetes gens, la table dans les bornes requises, un petit jeu qui amuse sans intere't, et la conversation enjouee et galante des femtnes de condition et d'esprit, sont les veritables LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 47 plaisirs d'un honn&te homme ; qui ne causent ni maladie, ni honte, ni repentir. Au lieu que tout ce qui va au-dela, devient crapule, debauche, fureur, qui, loin de donner du relief, decredite, et deshonore. Adieu. XXXIII. 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 sub- ject ; the one was 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 decrotte, 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 engaging, insinuating manner, an easy good-breeding, a genteel behaviour 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 lustre : 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 undiscovered. I have often said, and do think, that a Frenchman, who, with a fund of virtue, learning, and good sense, has the manners and good-breeding of his country, is the perfection 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 48 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 ifc will be your own fault if you do not acquire all the other accomplishments neces- sary to complete and adorn your character. You will do well to make your compliments to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur Pampigny ; 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. XXXIV. LONDON, March 27, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, Pleasure is the rock which most young people 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 parson ; 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 . . .. , 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 ray own in- clinations. 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 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 49 necessary qualification for a fine gentleman, and a Man of Pleasure. The same as to gaming. I did not want money, and conse- quently 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 plea- sures, I lost real ones ; and my fortune impaired, and my con- stitution shattered, are, I must confess, the just punishment of my errors. Take warning then by them ; chuse your pleasures for your- self, and do not let them be imposed upon you. Follow 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, pleasure. I would enjoy the pleasures of the table, and of wine ; but stop short of the pains inseparably annexed to an excess in 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 1 would be most firmly resolved not to destroy my own faculties and constitution, in compliance 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 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 occasions. I would pass some of my time in reading, and the rest in the VOL. I. E 60 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 frivolous, 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 pleasures 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 tearing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost, at play, more than he is able to pay ? Or .... with half a nose, and crippled by coarse and infamous de- bauchery ? No ; those practices, and, much more, those who brag of them, make no part of good company, and are most unwillingly, if ever, admitted into it. A real man of fashion and pleasure observes decency ; at least, neither borrows nor affects vices ; arid, 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 pleasures, which they seem to confine to the senses. The pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning, is true and lasting pleasure ; which I hope you will be well and long acquainted with. Adieu ! XXXV. LONDON, April 3, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, If I am rightly informed, I am now writing to a fine gentle- man, in a scarlet coat laced with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other suitable ornaments. 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 binding ; 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 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 51 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 recensere 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 Secretary 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, notwith- standing 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 afterwards to Rome, where it was counterfeited by a composition called Urbanity, which in some time was brought to very near the perfection of the original 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, j 1 * Of this year and the preceding, Coxe observes, that " the British flag rode triumphant in the Mediterranean." (Memoirs of the Pelham Admin- istration (1829), i. 363.) Our cruisers not only intercepted the French trading- vessels, but co-operated with the Austrian armies on shore M. t Edward Eliot, born in 1727, for many years M.P. for St. G-ermains or other places, and in 1784 created Lord Eliot. He died in 1804, and was father of the first Earl of St. Germains, his son having been raised to the peerage in 1815. 62 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTELS. XXXVI. LONDON, April 14, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, If you feel half the pleasure from the consciousness of doing well, that I do from the informations I have lately received in your favour 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 can- not, or does not, command and direct his attention to the present object, 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 companion, 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 every thing 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 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 answered, " There was nothing so easy ; for that it was LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 53 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 dic- tion, and the beauty of his poetry ; and do not think of Puffen- dorf * de Homine et Give j and, when you are reading PuflendorY, 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 part of your losses in Germany j and I consent to his reimbursing you the whole, now that I know you deserve it. I shall grudge you nothing, nor shall you want anything 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, Maniere de Men penser dans les ouvrages d' esprit, written by Pere Bouhours. 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 ! XXXVII. LONDON, June 30, O.S. 1747. DEAR 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 wrote, by this post, to Mr. Burnaby, and to the Avoyer, to thank them for their parts. If the attention you met 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 f has wrote his travels through Switzerland; * Baron Samuel von Puffendorf, the eminent critic and historian, was born in Saxony in 1631, and died in Berlin 1694. See Index. t Some Letters containing an account of what seemed most remarkable in travelling through Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, in 1685 and 1686. Rot- terdam, 1687. 64 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 favour me with one of the first copies. To be serious j though I do not desire that you shall immediately turn author, and oblige the world with your travels ; yet, wherever you go, I would have you as curious and inquisitive 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, sign-posts, and tomb-stones of every town that you go through ; but that you should inform yourself, as well as your stay will permit you, whether the town is free, or whom it belongs to, 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 make memorandums 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 ! XXXVIII. LONDON, July 20, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY In your Mamma's letter, which goes here enclosed, 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 con- tained good wishes and good advice j and as I know she will show your letter, in answer to hers, I send you here enclosed 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 assistance 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 Sevigne,f * Lady Gertrude Hotham. f Mary de Rabutin, Marchioness de Sevigne", was born in 1626 and died 1696. Her letters were to her daughter the Countess de Grignan. See Letter LXXTX. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 55 and Comte Bussy Rabutin * 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 simplicity and clear- ness of Cardinal d'Ossat's letters, show how letters of business ought to be written: no affected turns, no attempt 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 enjouement and badinage, there are none that equal Comte Bussy's and Madame Sevigne'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 of your itinerant library ; it will both amuse and inform you. I have not time to add any more now ; so good night ! XXXIX. 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 to Mr. Harte, that you are to be at Leipsig by next Michaelmas ; where you will be lodged in the house of Professor Mascow, } and boarded in the neighbourhood of it, with some young men of fashion. The Professor will read you lectures upon Grotius de Jure Belli et Pads, the Institutes of Justinian, and the Jus Publi- cum Imperil; which I expect that you shall not only hear, but attend to, and retain. I also expect that you make yourself per- fectly 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 upon you ; and shall be exactly informed of every thing that you do, and of * Roger Babutin, Comte de Bussy, was born in 1618 and died in 1693. f There were two brothers Mascow, both Professors of Civil Law, both trained at Leipsig, and both celebrated for their learning. The elder, John James Mascow, was the author of the well-known History of the Germans which appeared in 1726. M. Born 1689, died 1762. 56 LOUD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. almost every thing that you say. I hope, that, in consequence 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 aut 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 intro- duced. The King of Poland and his Court go likewise to the fair at Leipsig twice a year j and I shall write to Sir Charles Williams,f 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 very little purpose for you to frequent good company, if you do not conform to, and learn, their manners ; if you are not atten- tive to please, and well-bred, with the easiness of a man of fashion. As you must attend 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 for want of care when I was of your age. Do you dress well, and not too well ? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting your- self, enough, and not too much ? neither negligent nor stiff ? All these things deserve a degree of care, a second-rate atten- tion; they give an additional lustre to real merit. My Lord Bacon says, that a pleasing figure is a perpetual letter of recom- mendation. It is certainly an agreeable forerunner of merit, and smooths the way for it. Remember that I shall see you at Hanover next summer, and shall expect perfection ; which if I do not meet with, or at least * From Betham's Genealogical Tables (tab. 575) this lady appears to have been Benigna de Treiden, born 1703, the consort of Ernest John Biren, formerly Duke of Courland, and well known as the favourite of the Empress Anne of Eussia. M. t See Letter LXVT. and note. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 57 something very near it, you and I shall not be very well together. I shall dissect and analyse you with a microscope, so that I shall discover the least speck or blemish. This is fair warning, there- fore take your measures accordingly. Yours. XL. LONDON, August 7, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, I reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding you at Lausanne ; but I was resolved 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 recommendation 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, fco 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, which those who go to them ought previously to inform them- selves of, 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 thither. Adieu ! XLI. 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 were 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 68 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 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 persuasions ; 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 malicious 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 afterwards, 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 or the shame that I apprehend from it, I discover, at once, my fear, as well as my falsehood ; and only increase, instead of avoiding, 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 concealed cowards will insult known ones. If one has had the misfortune to be in the wrong, there is some- thing 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 inconveni- ency, is something so mean, and betrays so much fear, thar, whoever practises them, always deserves to be, and often will be, kicked. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 69 There is another sort of lies, inoffensive enough in themselves, but wonderfully ridiculous ; 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 honour to their author. He is always the hero of his own romances ; he has been in dangers from which nobody but himself ever es- caped; 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 universal contempt and ridicule. Remember then, as long as you live, that nothing but strict truth can carry you through the world, with either your con- science or your honour unwounded. 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. Remember that I shall see you in the summer; shall examine you most nar- rowly ; 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 1 XLII. LONDON, October 2, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, By your letter of the 18th past, N. S., I find that you are a tolerable 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 1 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 colouring of the human figure ; but the inside of the heart and mind of man. This science requires more attention, 60 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. observation, and penetration, than the other; as indeed it is infinitely more useful. Search, therefore, with the greatest care, into the characters of all those whom you converse with ; en- deavour to discover their predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their humours ; with all the right and wrong, wise and silly springs of human actions, which make such inconsistent 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 lust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, than that Orator did of war, who judiciously endeavoured 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 produces a seem- ing, though not a real, sameness of character. For example, one general mode distinguishes an University, another a trading town, a third a sea-port 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 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 different 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 everj 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-breeding of the place which he is at. A conformity and flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 61 world; tbat 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 frivolous. En- deavour, 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 different 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. XLIII. LONDON, October 9, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, People of your age have, commonly, an unguarded frank- ness about them ; which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the experienced , 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 in- discreet and unbounded confidence, always to their loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are coming into the world, of these proffered 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 friend- ship is a slow grower j 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 friendship is hastily produced, by their being accidentally thrown together, and pursuing the same course of riot and debauchery. 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 punished as such by the civil magistrate. However, they have 62 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. the impudence, aud the 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 accom- plices ; 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. Remember to make a great difference between companions and friends; for a very complaisant and agreeable companion may, and often does, prove a very im- proper 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 whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are. One may fairly suppose, that a 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 chuse a secure neutrality, than alliance, or war, with either of them. You may be a declared enemy to their vices and follies, without 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 disagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the true medium ; many are ridiculously mysterious and reserved upon trifles ; and inauy imprudently communicative of all they know. The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of your company. Endeavour, as much as you can, to keep com- pany 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 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 63 the beau monde, and consists of those people who have the lead in Courts, and in the gay part 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 company 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, absolutely insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are honoured by being in your company, and who flatter every vice and every folly you have, in order to engage 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 more, than that wrong turn. You may possibly ask me, whether a man has it always in his power to get into the best company ? and how ? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it ; provided he is but in circumstances 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 good-breeding will endear him to the best companies ; for, as I have often told you, polite- ness and good-breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all other good qualities or talents. Without them, no know- ledge, no perfection whatsoever, 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 Leipsig, of your arrival there, and what impression you make on them at first ; for I have Arguses, with a hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true ; it depends upon you, intirely, of what kind they shall be. Adieu ! XLIV. 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 64 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 things in you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance and atten- tion of others to your humours, your tastes, or your weaknesses, depend upon it, the same complaisance and attention 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 humour 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 disagreeable : if by chance you know a very short story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject of conversation, tell it in as few words as possible ; and even then, throw out that you do not love to tell stories; but that the short- ness of it tempted you. Of all things, banish the egotism out of your conversation, and never think of entertaining people with your own personal concerns or private 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 dis- play them in company ; nor labour, 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 in- fallibly be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, and with much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat and clamour, 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-humour, " 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 another. The jokes, the bon-mots, the little adventures, which may do very well in one company, will seem flat and tedious when re- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 65 lated 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 divested of those accidental circum- stances. Here people very commonly err ; and fond of something that has entertained them in one company, and in certain cir- cumstances, 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," or, " I will tell you the best thing in the world ." This raises expectations, which when absolutely disap- pointed, make the relator of this excellent thing look, very deservedly, like a fool. If you would particularly gain the affection and friendship of particular people, whether men or women, endeavour to find out their predominant excellency, if they have one, and their pre- vailing weakness, which everybody has ; 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 they excel, yet they are most and best flattered upon those points where they wish to excel, and yet are doubtful whether they do or not. As for example : Car- dinal 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 f his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be written upon the Cid. Those, therefore, who flattered skilfully, said little to him of his abilities in state affairs, or at least but en passant, and as it might naturally occur. But the incense which they gave him the smoke of which they knew would turn his head in their favour 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 ob- serving his favourite 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 J (who was certainly an able man) was little open to flattery upon that head, for he was in no doubt himself * 1588-1642. t 1606-1684. J 1676-1745. VOL. I. p 66 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. about it ; but his prevailing weakness was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn to gallantry, of which he had un- doubtedly less than any man living. It was his favourite 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 follow. 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 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 sgais quoi still more engaging than beauty. This truth is evi- dent, from the studied and elaborate dress of the ugliest woman in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty is, of all women, the least sensible of flattery upon that head ; she knows 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 recommend to you abject and criminal flattery : no ; flatter nobody's vices or crimes : on the contrary, abhor and discourage them. But there is no living in the world without a complaisant indulgence for people's weaknesses, and innocent, though ridiculous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a woman hand- somer, 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 endeavouring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them. There are little attentions, likewise, which are infinitely engag- ing, and which sensibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which is inseparable from human nature ; as they are un- questionable proofs of the regard and consideration which we have for the persons to whom we pay them. As for example : to observe the little habits, the likings, the antipathies, and the LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 67 tastes of those whom we would gain ; and then take care to pro- vide them with the one, and to secure them from the other ; giving them genteelly to understand, that you had observed they liked such a dish or such a room ; for which reason you had pre- pared it : or, on the contrary, that having observed they had an aversion 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 jnore 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 initiation 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 ! XLV. LONDON, October 30, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY I am very well pleased with your Itinerarium, which you sent me from Katisbon. It shows me that you observe and in- quire as you go, which is the true end of travelling. Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their dis- tance from each other, and attending only to their accommoda- tion 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 manufactures, the govern- ment 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 informations from the people of the place. For example; while you are at Leipsig, 68 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. get some short account (and to be sure there are many such) of the present state of that 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 in- telligent people. Do the same thing afterwards with regard to the Electorate of Saxony : you will find a short history of it in PuffendorPs Introduction * 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 every thing ; 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 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 in 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 com- pany, 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 nothing. They have read two or three hours mechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequently, without 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 afterwards, * See letter to Bishop of Waterford, October 10, 1753. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 69 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 thinking of something else. Why were they thinking of something else ? and, if they were, why did they come there ? The truth is, that the fools were thinking of nothing. Remember the hoc age ; do what you are about, be that what it will; 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 every thing that is said, and see every thing that is done. Observe the looks and counte- nances of those who speak, which is often a surer way of discover- ing the truth than from what they say ; but then, keep all these observations to yourself, for your own private use, and rarely communicate them to others. Observe, without 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 ; follow, 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. XLVI. 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 flapper, to put you in mind of yourself. Dr. Swift, in his account of the island of Laputa, describes some philosophers there, who were so wrapped up and absorbed 70 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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 specu- lations ; 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 gaping 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 fre- quently 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 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 of the respective Electorates, Princi- palities, and Towns; and also, the genealogy of the most con- siderable 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 proavos, et quae non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voco. f Good night ' XLVII. 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 * Lowndes, Secretary to the Treasury. See Letter CXXXI. t Ovid. Metam., xiii. 140. Quoted again in Letter to his Godson, Nov. 5, 1766. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 71 whether it is not labour 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 neces- sarily 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 indirectly, any interest concerning you, but your own. From which two undeni- able principles, the obvious and necessary conclusion is, that you ought, for your own sake, to attend to, and follow, my advice. 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 character, mine will be exactly what it is now, and will neither be the better in the first case, nor the 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 honour, 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." 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 conse- quently 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 72 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. 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 un- directed 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 per- suade myself, will happen from that degree of sense which I think you have ; and therefore I will go on advising, and with hopes of success. You are now settled for some time at Leipsig; the principal object of your stay there, is the knowledge of books and sciences ; which if you do not, by attention and application, 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. Re- double your attention, then, to Mr. Harte, in your private studies of the Literce Humaniores, especially Greek. State your diffi- culties 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. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 73 Here is advice enough, I think, and too much it may bp, 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 Leipsig, a small packet from your Mamma, containing some 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 ! XLVIII. LONDON, December 11, 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 everybody's mouth, but in few people's practice. Every fool who slatterns away his whole time in nothings, utters, however, some trite common-place 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 inscrip- tion 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 is if lost. But all these admoni- tions 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 myself 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 ; 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 74 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter for us in an advanced age ; and if we do not plant it while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old. I neither require nor expect from you great applica- tion to books after you are once thrown out into the great world. I know it is impossible; and it may even, in some cases, be improper : this, therefore, is your time, and your only time, for unwearied and uninterrupted application. If you should some- times think it a little laborious, consider that labour is the un- avoidable 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 manumission 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 every thing that I would have you do till you are eighteen, I will do everything that you would have me do ever afterwards. 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 common 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 sacrifice to Cloacina ; this was so much time fairly gained j and I recommend to you to follow his example. It is better than only doing what you cannot help doing at those moments ; and it will make any book which you shall read in that manner, very present to 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 ^Eneid : 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 * Peter Bayle, author of the Biographical, Historical and Critical Die- twnary. Born 1647, died 1706. Louis Moreri, a French ecclesiastic, also compiled a Biographical Dictionary. Born 1643, died 1680. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 75 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 1 XLIX. 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 acknowledge ; so that this letter is the effect of that scribendi cacoethes which my fears, my hopes, and my doubts, concerning 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 that I can give you some information, or point some rules which may be advantageous to you. This sets me to writing again, though God knows whether to any purpose or not ; a few years more can only ascertain that. But, whatever 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 affection, 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 or 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 confess they are by no means my prin- cipal 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 76 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 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, I think I see sense in the one and sentiment 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 honour, and the 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 reconciliation, 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 essen- tial 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 know- ledge, you have already enough of it to engage you to acquire more. The ignorant only either despise it, or think that they have enough : those who have the most are always the mosc 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. L. LONDON, December 29, O.S. 1747. DEAR BOY, I have received two letters from you, of the 17th and 22nd, N. S., by the last of which I find that some of mine to you must have miscarried j 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 answers 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 honour and give me pleasure. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 77 I thank you for your offer of the new edition of Adamus 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 f Histoire du Traite de Munster, in two volumes, quarto ; which contains many important anecdotes con- cerning 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 Mascow 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 Pads, and upon the capitulations of the late Emperors. Your German, will go on, of course, and I take it for granted, that your stay at Leipsig will make you perfect master of that language both as to speaking and writing ; for, remember that know- ing any language imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all; people being as unwilling to speak in a lan- guage which they do not possess thoroughly as others are to hear them. Your thoughts are cramped, and appear to great dis- advantage 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 imperfect 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 fashion will improve your manners, though not your understanding ; and that complaisance and politeness, which are so useful in men's com- pany, can only be acquired in women'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 manner, and those graces, which * This author was a Benedictine, born near Cologne in 1610. His work is entitled, Arcana Pads Westphalicce, and was republished in 1737, more correctly by M. Meiern. M. t Guillaume Hyacinthe Bougeant wrote also Amusement PJiilosophique sur le Language des Betes, and History of the Wars of Louis XIII. Born 1690, died 1743. 78 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. seduce and prepossess people in your favour at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to be neglected ; always extremely clean ; upon proper occasions fine. Your car- riage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your manner and address when you present youself in com- pany. Let them be respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteel without affectation, and insinuating without any seeming art or design. You need not send me any more extracts of the German con- stitution ; 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 ! LI. January 2, O.S. 1748. DEAR 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 having it all to yourself; nay, it is even more, for it is layiug 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 they do) le ton de la bonne compagnie, 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 endeavour 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 countries, you may put them upon subjects concerning which they must necessarily be able to give you some useful information, let them be ever so dull or disagreeable in general : they will know some- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 79 thing, at least, of the laws, customs, government, and consider- able families of their respective countries ; all which are better known than not, and consequently worth inquiring into. There is hardly anybody good for every thing, and there is scarcely anybody who is absolutely good for nothing. A good chymist will extract some spirit or other out of every substance ; and a man of parts will, by his dexterity and management, elicit some- thing worth knowing out of every being he converses with. As you have been introduced to the Duchess of Courland, 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 recommend to you to go into women's company in search of solid knowledge or judgment, yet it has its use in other respects j 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 without great im- patience 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 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 refers 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 enclosed one to Lady Chesterfield; she will answer it soon, and, in the mean time, thanks you for it. 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 80 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. here, in the German language and character, which will improve you in both. Adieu ! LIT. LONDON, January 15, O.S. 1748. DEA.R BOY, I willingly accept the New-year's gift which you promise me for next year, and the more valuable you make it, the more thankful I shall be. That depends entirely upon you, and, there- fore, 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 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 UoXtTt/co? avrjp : if so, I presume it is in the view of succeeding me in my office, which I will very willingly resign to you whenever you shall call upon me for it. But, if you intend to be the IToXtTt/co9, or the Bov\r)(f)opo<; avrjp, there are some trifling circumstances upon which you should previously take your resolution : the first of which is, to be fit for it; and then, in order to be so, make yourself master of ancient and modern history, and languages. To know perfectly the constitution and form of government of every nation, the growth and the decline of ancient and modern empires, and to trace out and reflect upon the causes of both ; to know the strength, the riches, and the commerce of every country ; these little things, trifling as they may seem, are yet very necessary for a politician to know, and which therefore, I presume, you will condescend to apply yourself to. There are some additional qualifications necessary, in the practical part of business, which may deserve some consideration in your leisure moments such as, an absolute command of your LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 81 temper, so as not to be provoked to passion i pon any account ; patience, to hear frivolous, impertinent, and unreasonable appli- cations ; with address enough to refuse, without offending ; or, by your manner of granting, to double the obligation; dexterity enough to conceal a truth, without telling a lie ; sagacity enough to read other people's countenances ; and serenity enough not to let them discover anything by yours a seeming frankness, with a real reserve. These are the rudiments of a politician ; the world must be your grammar. Three mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no letters from you to acknowledge. I therefore conclude with recommending myself to your favour and protection when you succeed. Yours. LIII. LONDON, January 29, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY. I find, by Mr. Harte's last letter, that many of my letters, to you and him, have been frozen up in their way to Leipsig : the thaw has, I suppose, by this time, set them at liberty to pursue their journey to you, and you will receive a glut of them at once. Hudibras alludes, in this verse, Like words congealed in northern air,* to a vulgar notion, that, in Greenland, words were frozen in their utterance; and that, upon a thaw, a very mixed conversation was heard in the air, of all those words set at liberty. This conversation was, I presume, too various and extensive to be much attended to : and may not that be the case of half-a-dozen of my long letters, when you receive them all at once ? I think that I can, eventually, answer that question, thus : If you con- sider my letters in their true light, as conveying to you the advice of a friend who sincerely wishes your happiness, and desires to promote your pleasures, you will both read and attend to them ; but if you consider them in their opposite, and very false light, as the dictates of a morose and sermonizing father, I am sure they will be not only unattended to, but unread. Which is the case, you can best tell me. Advice is seldom welcome ; and those who want it the most, always like it the least. I hope * Hudibras, Canto i. 148. VOL. I. ' G 8'2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. that your want of experience, which you must be conscious of, will convince you that you want advice, and that your good sense will incline you to follow it. Tell me how you pass your leisure hours at Leipsig; I know you have not many ; and I have too good an opinion of you to think chat, at this age, you would desire more. Have you assem- blies, or public spectacles ? and of what kind are they ? What- ever they are, see them all : seeing every thing is the only way not to admire anything too much. If you ever take up little tale- books to amuse you by snatches, I will recommend two French books, which I have already men- tioned ; they will entertain you, and not without some use to your mind and your manners. One is, La maniere de bien penser dans les ouvrages d' esprit, written by Pere Bouhours ; * I believe you read it once in Eugland, with Monsieur Coderc j but I think that you will do well to read it again, as I know of ao book that will form your taste better. The other is, L'Art de plaire dans la Conversation, by the Abbe de Bellegarderf and is by no means useless, though I will not pretend to say that the art of pleasing can be reduced to a receipt ; if it could, I am sure that receipt would be worth purchasing at any price. Good sense and good- nature are the principal ingredients ; and your own observation, and the good advice of others, must give the right colour and taste to it. Adieu ! I shall always love you as you shall deserve. LTV. LONDON, February 9, O.S. 1748. DBAK BOY, You will receive this letter, not from a Secretary of State, but from a private man ; for whom, at this time of life, quiet was as fit, and as necessary, as labour and activity are for you at your age, and for many years still to come. I resigned the Seals, last Saturday, J to the King; who parted with me most graciously, and (I may add, for he said so himself) with regret. As I retire from hurry to quiet, and to enjoy, at my ease, the comforts of private and social life, you will easily imagine that I have no * Dominic Bouhours, a French critic ; born 1628, died 1702. f See p. 35. J On the 6th Feb. O.S. See letter of same date to Dayrolles. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 83 thoughts of opposition, or meddling with business. Otium cum dignitate is my object. The former I now enjoy ; and I hope that my conduct and character entitle me to some share of the latter. In short, I am now happy ; and I found that I could not be so in my former public situation. As I like your correspondence better than that of all the Kings, Princes, and Ministers in Europe, I shall now have leisure to carry it on more regularly. My letters to you will be written, I am sure, by me, and, I hope, read by you, with pleasure ; which, I believe, seldom happens, reciprocally, to letters written from and to a Secretary's office. Do not apprehend that my retirement from business may be a hindrance to your advancement in it, at a proper time ; on the contrary, it will promote it ; for, having nothing to ask for myself, I shall have the better title to ask for you. But you have still a surer way than this of rising, and which is wholly in your power. Make yourself necessary ; which, with your natural parts, you may, by application, do. We are in general, in England, ignorant of foreign affairs ; and of the interests, views, pretensions, and policy of other Courts. That part of knowledge never enters into our thoughts, nor makes part of our education ; for which reason, we have fewer proper subjects for foreign commissions than any other country in Europe ; and, when foreign affairs happen to be debated in Parliament, it is incredible with how much ignorance. The harvest of foreign affairs being then so great, and the labourers so few, if you make yourself master of them, you will make yourself necessary ; first as a foreign, and then as a domestic Minister for that department. I am extremely well pleased with the account you give me of the allotment of your time. Do but go on so for two years longer, and I will ask no more of you. Your labours will be their own reward ; but if you desire any other that I can add, you may depend upon it. I am glad that you perceive the indecency and turpitude of those of your Gommensauz, who disgrace and foul themselves with . . . and scoundrel gamesters. And the light in which I am sure you see all reasonable and decent people consider them will be a good warning to you. Adieu. 84 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS LV. LONDON, February 13, O.S. 1748. DEAF? BOY, Your last letter gave me a very satisfactory account of your manner of employing your time at Leipsig. Go on so but for two years more, and I promise you that you will outgo all the people of your age and time. I thank you for your explication of the Sclirijtsassen and Amptsassen ; and pray let me know the meaning of the Landsassen. I am very willing that you should take a Saxon servant, who speaks nothing but German ; which will be a sure way of keeping up your German, after you leave Germany. But then, I would neither have that man, nor him whom you have already, put out of livery ; which makes them both impertinent and useless. I am sure that, as soon as you shall have taken the other servant, your present man will press extremely to be out of livery, and valet de chambre ; which is as much as to say, that he will curl your hair and shave you, but not condescend to do any thing else. I therefore advise you never to have a servant out of livery ; and, though you may not always think proper to carry the servant who dresses you abroad in the rain and dirt, behind a coach, or before a chair, yet keep it in your power to do so if you please, by keeping him in livery. I have seen Monsieur and Madame Flemming, who give me a very good account of you, and of your manners ; which, to tell you the plain truth, were what I doubted of the most. She told me that you were easy, and not ashamed, which is a great deal for an Englishman at your age. I set out for the Bath to-morrow, for a month: only to be better than well, and to enjoy in quiet the liberty which I have acquired by the resignation of the seals. You shall hear from me more at large from thence : and now good night to you ! LVI. BATH, February 16, O.S. 1748. DBAS BOY, The first use that I made of my liberty was to come hither, where I arrived yesterday. My health, though not fundamentally LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 85 bad, yet, for want of proper attention of late, wanted some repairs, which these waters never fail giving it. I shall drink them a month, and return to London, there to enjoy the comforts of social life, instead of groaning tinder the load of business. I have given the description of the life that I propose to lead for the future in this motto, which I 1 ave put up in the frize of my library, in my new house : * Nunc veterum libris, nunc s< mno, et inertibus horis Ducere sollicitae jucunda obLvia vitae. I must observe to you upon this occasion, that the uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in that library will be chiefly owing to my having employed some part of my life well at your age. I wish I had employed it better, and my satisfaction would now be complete ; but, however, I planted, while young, that degree of knowledge which is now my refuge and my shelter. Make your plantations still more extensive ; they will more than pay you for your trouble. I do not regret the time that 1 passed in pleasures ; they were seasonable, they were the pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. If I had not, I should probably have over-valued them now, as we are very apt to do what we do not know ; but, knowing them as I do, I know their real value, and how much they are generally over-rated. Nor do I regret the time that I have passed in business, for the same reason. Those who see only the outside of it, imagine that it has hidden charms, which they pant after, and nothing but acquaintance can undeceive them. I, who have been behind the scenes, both of pleasure and business, and have seen all the springs and pullies of those decorations which astonish and dazzle the audience, retire, not only without regret, but with contentment and satisfaction. But what I do, and ever shall, regret, is the time which, while young, I lost in mere idleness, and in doing nothing. This is the common effect of the inconsideracy of youth, against which I beg you will be most carefully upon your guard. The value of moments, when cast up, is immense, if well employed ; if thrown away, their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment may * Chesterfield House in London. The inscription still remains as Lord Chesterfield placed it. M. 86 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. be put to some use, and that with much more pleasure than if unemployed. Do not imagine that by the employment of time I mean an uninterrupted application to serious studies. No ; pleasures are, at proper times, both as necessary and as useful ; they fashion and form you for the world ; they teach you characters, and show you the human heart in its unguarded minutes. But then re- member to make that use of them. I have known many people, from laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and business witfi equal inattention ; neither enjoying the one, nor doing the other : thinking themselves men of pleasure, because they were mingled with those who were, and men of business, because they had business to do, though they did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose; do it thoroughly, not superficially. Approfondi. or drawling, an unattentive behaviour, etc., make upon you, at first sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though, for ought you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect, on the other hand, how much the opposites of all these things prepossess yon, at first sight, in favour of those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do not. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, con- spire to form these Graces, this je ne sgais quoi, that always pleases. A pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree of * Dr. Hill quotes : " Plato used to say to Xenocrates, the philosopher, who had a morose and unpolished manner, ' good Xenocrates, sacrifice to the graces.' "Plutarch's Lives. " Prince Maurice never sacrificed to the graces, nor conversed amongst men of quality, but had most used the- company of ordinary and inferior men with whom he loved to be very familiar." Clarendon, History of the Rebellion. t Francis, Duke de la Eochefoucault, born, 1613 ; died, 1680. 94 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. dress, an harmonious voice, something open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing; a distinct and properly varied manner of speaking : all these things, and many others, are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing je ne sqais quoi, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded, that, in general, the same thing will please or displease them in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it : and I could heartily wish that you may often be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and ill manners : it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh ; they are above it : they please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the countenance. But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always excite laughter ; and that is what people of sense and breeding should show themselves above. A man's going to sit down, in the sup- position that he has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breech for want of one, sets a whole company a laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it ; a plain proof, in rny mind, how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is. Not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily re- strained by a very little reflection ; but, as it is generally con- nected with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I am neither of a melancholy, nor a cynical dis position ; and am as willing, and as apt, to be pleased as any- / body; but I am sure that, since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh.* Many people, at first from awkwardness and mauvaise honte, have got a very disagree- able and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak : and I * Swift "stubbornly resisted any tendency to laughter." Johnson's Works, viii. 222. " By no merriment, either of others or of his owu, was Pope ever seen excited to laughter." Ibid., 312. " There is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh, it is such a vulgar expression of the passion. Everybody can laugh." Cougreve's Double Dealer, i. 1. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 95 know a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing without laughing; which makes those, who do not kuow him, take him at first for a natural fool. This, and many other very disagreeable habits, are owing to mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. They are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted that they do not know what they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance; which tricks afterwards grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in thjsir nose, others scratch their head, others twirl their hats ; in short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency does not justify the thing ; and all these vulgar habits and awkwardness, though not criminal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, as they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remember, that to please, is almost to prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it. You, who have your fortune to make, should more particularly study this art. You had not, I must tell you, when you left England, les manieres prevenantes ; and I must confess they are not very common in England : but I hope that your good sense will make you acquire them abroad. If you desire to make yourself considerable in the world (as, if you have any spirit, you do), it must be entirely your own doing ; for I may very possibly be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own rank and fortune will not assist you ; your merit and your manners can alone raise you to figure and fortune. I have laid the foundations of them, by the education which I have given you; but you must build the superstructure your- self. I must now apply to you for some informations which I dare say you can, and which I desire you will, give me. Can the Elector of Saxony put any of his subjects to death for high-treason, without bringing them first to their trial in some public Court of Justice ? Can he, by his own authority, confine any subject in prison as long as he pleases, without trial ? Can he banish any subject out of his dominions by his own authority ? Can he lay any tax whatsoever upon his subjects without the consent of the States of Saxony ? and what are those States * 96 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. how are they elected ? what Orders do they consist of? do the Clergy make part of them ? and when, and how often, do they meet ? If two subjects of the Elector's are at law for an estate situated in the Electorate, in what court must this suit be tried ? and will the decision of that court be final, or does there lie an appeal to the Imperial Chamber at Wetzlar? What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magi - trates, of civil and criminal justice ? What is the common revenue of the Electorate one year with another ? What number of troops does the Elector now maintain ? and what is the greatest number that the Electorate is able to main- tain ? I do not expect to have all these questions answered at once ; but you will answer them in proportion as you get the necessary and authentic informations. You are, you see, my German oracle ; and I consult you with so much faith that you need not, like the oracles of old, return ambiguous answers ; especially as you have this advantage over them, too, that I only consult you about past aud present, but not about what is to come. I wish you a good Easter fair at Leipsig. See, with attention, all the shops, drolls, tumblers, rope-dancers, and hoc genus om,ne : but inform yourself more particularly of the several parts of trade there. Adieu 1 LX. LONDON, March 25, O.S. 1748. DEAR Boy, I am in great joy at the written and the verbal accounts which I have received lately of you. The former from Mr. Harte, the latter from Mr. Trevanion, who is arrived here : they conspire to convince me that you employ your time well at Leipsig. I am glad to find you consult your own interest and your own pleasure so much; for the knowledge which you will acquire in these two years is equally necessary for both. I am likewise particularly pleased to find that you turn yourself to that sort of knowledge which is more peculiarly necessary for your destination : for Mr. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 97 Harfce tells me you have read with attention Caillieres,* Pecquet,f and Richelieu's J Letters, The Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz will both entertain and instruct you; they relate to a very inter- esting period of the French history, the ministry of Cardinal Mazarin || during the minority of Louis XIV. The characters of all the considerable people of that time are drawn, in a short, strong, and masterly manner ; and the political reflections, which are most of them printed in Italics, are the justest that ever I met with : they are not the laboured reflections of a systematical closet politician, who, without the least experience of business, sits at home and writes maxims ; but they are the reflections which a great and able man formed from long experience and practice in great business. They are true conclusions, drawn from facts, not from speculations. As Modern History is particularly your business, I will give you some rules to direct your study of it. It begins properly with Charlemagne in the year 800 ; but as, in those times of ignorance, the priests and monks were almost the only people that could or did write, we have scarcely any histories of those times but such as they have been pleased to give us, which are compounds of ignorance, superstition, and party zeal. So that a general notion of what is rather supposed, than really known to be, the history of the five or six following centuries, seems to be sufficient : and much time would be but ill employed in a minute attention to those legends. But reserve your utmost care and most diligent inquiries for the fifteenth century and downwards. Then learning began to revive, and credible histories to be written ; Europe began to take the form, which, to some degree, it still retains; at least, the foundations of the present great Powers of Europe were then laid. Louis the Eleventh made * Francois de Caillieres was Comeiller du Roi, and one of the French Plenipotentiaries at the peace of Eyswick. Among his writings is an Essay De la Maniere de Negocier avec lea Souverains, etc., which appeared in 1716, and which is said to have been translated into English, German, and Italian. M. f Antoine Pecquet was born at Paris in 1704, and became Grand-Maitre des Eaux et Forits de Rouen. The work which Lord Chesterfield refers to appears to be I' Art de Negocier, one of Pecquet's numerous publications. M. I Cardinal Richelieu, 1585-1642. Cardinal de Eetz, 1613-1679. || Cardinal Mazarin, 1602-1661. VOL. I. H 98 LOBD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTEES. France, in truth, a monarchy, or, as he used to say himself, la mit hors de page. Before his time there were independent pro- vinces in France, as the duchy of Britanny, etc., whose princes tore it to pieces, and kept it in constant domestic confusion. Louis the Eleventh reduced all these petty states by fraud, force, or marriage ; for he scrupled no means to obtain his ends. About that time, Ferdinand, King of Arragon, and Isabella, his wife, Queen of Castile, united the whole Spanish Monarchy, and drove the Moors out of Spain, who had till then kept possession of Granada. About that time, too, the House of Austria laid the great foundations of its subsequent power ; first, by the marriage of Maximilian with the Heiress of Burgundy ; and then, by the marriage of his son Philip, Archduke of Austria, with Jane, the daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, and Heiress of that whole kingdom, and of the West Indies. By the first of these mar- riages, the House of Austria acquired the Seventeen Provinces ; and, by the latter, Spain and America ; all which centred in the person of Charles the Fifth, son of the above-mentioned Arch- duke, Philip, the son of Maximilian. It was upon account of these two marriages that the following Latin distich was made : Bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria nube, Nam quaB Mars aliis, dat tibi regna Venus. This immense power, which the Emperor Charles the Fifth found himself possessed of, gave him a desire for universal power (for people never desire all till they have gotten a great deal), and alarmed France : this sowed the seeds of that jealousy and enmity, which have flourished ever since between those two great Powers. Afterwards the House of Austria was weakened by the division made by Charles the Fifth of its dominions, between his son Philip the Second of Spain, and his brother Ferdinand, and has ever since been dwindling to the weak condition in which it now- is. This is a most interesting part of the history of Europe, of which it is absolutely necessary that you should be exactly and minutely informed. There are, in the history of most countries, certain very re- markable eras, which deserve more particular inquiry and atten- tion than the common run of history. Such is the revolt of the Seventeen Provinces, in the reign of Philip the Second of Spain; LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 99 which ended in forming the present Republic of the Seven United Provinces, whose independency was first allowed by Spain at the Treaty of Munster. Such was the extraordinary revolution of Portugal, in the year 1640, in favour of the present House of Braganza. Such is the famous revolution of Sweden, when Christian the Second of Denmark, who was also Bang of Sweden, was driven out by Gustavus Vasa. And such, also, is that memorable era in Denmark, of 1660 ; when the States of that kingdom made a voluntary surrender of all their rights and liber- ties to the Crown; and changed that free state into the most absolute Monarchy now in Europe. The Acta Regia, upon that occasion, are worth your perusing. These remarkable periods of Modern History deserve your particular attention, and most of them have been treated singly by good historians, which are worth your reading. The revolutions of Sweden, and of Portugal, are most admir- ably well written by I/ Abbe de Vertot ; * they are short, and will not take twelve hours' reading. There is another book which very well deserves your looking into, but not worth your buying at present, because it is not portable ; if you can borrow, or hire it, you should; and that is, L'Histoire des Traites de Paix, in two volumes, folio, which make part of the Corps Diplomatique. You will there find a short and clear history, and the substance of every treaty made in Europe, during the last century, from the Treaty of Vervins. Three parts in four of this book are not worth your reading, as they relate to treaties of very little impor- tance ; but, if you select the most considerable ones, read them with attention, and take some notes, it will be of great use to you. Attend chiefly to those in which the great Powers of Europe are the parties ; such as the Treaty of the Pyrenees, be- tween France and Spain; the Treaties of Nimeguen and Bys- wick ; but, above all, the treaty of Munster should be most circumstantially and minutely known to you, as almost every treaty made since has some reference to it. For this, Pere Bou- geant is the best book you can read, as it takes in the tlnrty years' war which preceded that treaty. The treaty itself, which is made a perpetual law of the Empire, comes in the course of your lectures upon the Jus Publicum Imperil. * Rene de Vertot d'Auboeuf (born 1655) was secretary to the Duke of Orleans. See Letter LXXIII. 100 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. In order to furnish you with materials for a letter, and, at the same time, to inform both you and myself of what it is right that we should know, pray answer me the following questions : How many companies are there in the Saxon regiments of foot? How many men in each company ? How many troops in the regiments of horse and dragoons, and how many men in each ? What number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in a company of foot, or in a troop of horse or dragoons ? N.B. Non-commissioned officers are all those below Ensigns and Cornets. What is the daily pay of a Saxon foot soldier, dragoon, and trooper ? What are the several ranks of the Etat Major General ? N.B. The Etat Major General is everything above Colonel. The Austrians have no Brigadiers, and the French have no Major- Generals, in their Etat Major. What have the Saxons ? Adieu ! LXI. LONDON, March 27, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, This little packet will be delivered to you by one Monsieur Duval, who is going to the fair at Leipsig : he is a jeweller, originally of Geneva, but who has been settled here these eight or ten years, and a very sensible fellow. Pray be very civil to him. As I advised you, some time ago, to inform yourself of the civil and military establishments of as many of the kingdoms and states of Europe as you should either be in, yourself, or be able to get authentic accounts of, I send you here a little book, in which, upon the article of Hanover, I have pointed out the short method of putting down these informations, by way of helping your memory. The book being lettered, you can immediately turn to whatever article you want, and, by adding interleaves to each letter, may extend your minutes to what particulars you please. You may get such books made anywhere ; and appro- priate each, if you please, to a particular object. I have myself found great utility in this method. If I had known what to have LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 101 sent you by this opportunity, I would have done it. The French say, Que les petits presens entretiennent I'amitie, et que les grands V augmentent ; but I could not recollect that you wanted any thing, or at least any thing that you cannot get as well at Leipsig as here. Do but continue to deserve, and I assure you that you shall never want anything I can give. Do not apprehend that my being out of employment may be any prejudice to you. Many things will happen before you can be fit for business ; and, when you are fit, whatever my situation may be, it will always be in my power to help you in your first steps ; afterwards, you must help yourself by your own abilities. Make yourself necessary ; and, instead of soliciting, you will be solicited. The thorough knowledge of foreign affairs, the interests, the views, and the manners of the several Courts in Europe, are not the common growth of this country. It is in your power to acquire them ; you have all the means. Adieu ! Yours. LXII. LONDON, April 1, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I have not received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Harte, these three posts, which I impute wholly to accidents between this place and Leipsig; and they are distant enough to admit of many. I always take it for granted that you are well, when I do not hear to the contrary ; besides, as I have often told you, I am much more anxious about your doing well, than about your being well ; and, when you do not, write, I will suppose that you are doing something more useful. Your health will continue while your temperance continues ; and, at your age, Nature takes sufficient care of the body, provided she is left to herself, and that intemperance on one hand, or medicines on the other, do not break in upon her. But it is by no means so with the mind, which, at your age particularly, requires great and constant care, and some physic. Every quarter of an hour, well or ill employed, will do it essential and lasting good or harm. It requires, also, a great deal of exercise, to bring it to a state of health and vigour. Observe the difference there is between minds cultivated and 102 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. minds uncultivated, aud you will, I am sure, think that you cannot take too much pains, nor employ too much of your time in the culture of your own. A drayman is probably born with as good organs as Milton, Locke, or Newton ; but, by culture, they are much more above him than he is above his horse. Sometimes, indeed, extraordinary geniuses have broken out by the force of nature, without the assistance of education ; but those instances are too rare for anybody to trust to ; and even they would make a much greater figure, if they had the advan- tage of education into the bargain. If Shakespeare's genius had been cultivated, those beauties, which we so justly admire in him, would have been undisguised by those extravagancies and that nonsense with which they are frequently accompanied. People are, in general, what they are made, by education and company, from fifteen to five-and-twenty ; consider well, there- fore, the importance of your next eight or nine years your whole depends upon them. I will tell you, sincerely, my hopes and my fears concerning you. I think you will be a good scholar, and that you will acquire a considerable stock of knowledge of various kinds ; but I fear that you neglect what are called little, though in truth they are very material things ; I mean, a gentle- ness of manners, an engaging address, and an insinuating * behaviour; they are real and solid advantages, and none but those who do not know the world treat them as trifles. I am told that you speak very quick, and not distinctly ; this is a most ungraceful and disagreeable trick, which you know I have told you of a thousand times; pray attend carefully to the correction of it. An agreeable and distinct manner of speaking adds greatly to the matter ; and I have known many a very good speech unregarded, upon account of the disagreeable manner in which it has been delivered, and many an indifferent one ap- plauded, for the contrary reason. Adieu I LXIII. LONDON, April 15, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, Though I have no letters from you to acknowledge, since my last to you, I will not let three posts go from hence without a * Insinuating was still used in a good sense. See the Index. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. 103 letter from me. My affection always prompts me to write to you, and I am encouraged to do it by the hopes that my letters are not quite useless. You will probably receive this in the midst of the diversions of Leipsig fair j at which, Mr. Harte tells me, that you are to shine in fine clothes, among fine folks. I am very glad of it, as it is time that you should begin to be formed to the manners of the world in higher life. Courts are the best schools for that sort of learning. You are beginning now with the outside of a Court ; and there is not a more gaudy one than that of Saxony. Attend to it, and make your observa- tions upon the turn and manners of it, that you may hereafter compare it with other Courts, which you will see. And, though you are not yet able to be informed, or to judge, of the political conduct and maxims of that Court, yet you may remark the forms, the ceremonies, and the exterior state of it. At least see everything that you can see, and know everything that you can know of it, by asking questions. See likewise everything at the fair, from operas and plays, down to the Savoyards' raree- shows. Everything is worth seeing once ; and the more one sees, the less one either wonders or admires. Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have just now received his letter, for which I thank him. I am called away, and my letter is therefore very much shortened. Adieu ! I am impatient to receive your answers to the many questions I have asked you. LXIV. LONDON, April 26, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I am extremely pleased with your continuation of the History of the Reformation, which is one of those important eras that deserve your utmost attention, and of which you cannot be too minutely informed. You have, doubtless, considered the causes of that great event, and observed that disappointment and resentment had a much greater share in it, than a religious zeal, or an abhorrence of the errors and abuses of Popery. Luther, an Augustin Monk, enraged that his Order, and consequently himself, had not the exclusive privilege of selling indulgences, but that the Dominicans were let into a share of 104 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. that profitable but infamous trade, turns reformer, and exclaims against the abuses, the corruption, and the idolatry, of the Church of Rome ; which were certainly gross enough for him to have seen long before, but which he had at least acquiesced in, till what he called the rights, that is the profit, of his Order came to be touched. It is true, the Church of Rome furnished him ample matter for complaint and reformation, and he laid hold of it ably. This seems to me the true cause of that great and necessary work : but whatever the cause was, the effect was good : and the Reformation spread itself by its own truth and fitness ; was conscientiously received by great numbers in Germany, and other countries; and was soon afterwards mixed up with the politics of princes ; and, as it always happens in religious disputes, became the specious covering of injustice and ambition. Under the pretence of crushing heresy, as it was called, the House of Austria meant to extend and establish its power in the empire ; as, on the other hand, many Protestant princes, under the pretence of extirpating idolatry, or at least of securing toleration, meant only to enlarge their own dominions or privileges. These views respectively, among the chiefs on both sides, much more than true religious motives, continued what were called the religious wars in Germany, almost uninterruptedly, till the affairs of the two religions were finally settled by the treaty of Munster. Were most historical events traced up to their true causes, I fear we should not find them much more noble, nor disinterested, than Luther's disappointed avarice; and therefore I look with some contempt upon those refining and sagacious historians, who ascribe all, even the most common events, to some deep political cause ; whereas mankind is made up of inconsistencies, and no man acts invariably up to his predominant character. The wisest man sometimes acts weakly, and the weakest sometimes wisely. Our jarring passions, our variable humours, nay, our greater or lesser degree of health and spirits, produce such contradictions in our conduct, that, I believe, those are the oftenest mistaken, who ascribe our actions to the most seemingly obvious motives : and I am convinced, that a light supper, and a good night's sleep, and a fine morning, have sometimes made a LORD CHESTEKPIELD'S LETTERS. 105 hero of the same man, who by an indigestion, a restless night, and a rainy morning, would have proved a coward. Our best conjectures, therefore, as to the true springs of actions, are but very uncertain; and the actions themselves are all that we must pretend to know from history. That Caesar was murdered by twenty-three conspirators, I make no doubt ; but I very much doubt, that their love of liberty, and of their country, was their sole, or even principal motive ; and I dare say that, if the truth were known, we should find that many other motives at least concurred, even in the great Brutus himself; such as pride, envy, personal pique, and disappointment. Nay, I cannot help carrying my Pyrrhonism* still further, and extend- ing it often to historical facts themselves, at least to most of the circumstances with which they are related; and every day's experience confirms me in this historical incredulity. Do we ever hear the most recent fact related exactly in the same way, by the several people who were at the same time eye-witnesses of it ? No. One mistakes, another misrepresents ; and others warp it a little to their own turn of mind, or private views. A man, wlio has been concerned in a transaction, will not write it fairly ; and a man who has not, cannot. But, notwithstanding all this uncertainty, history is not the less necessary to be known ; as the best histories are taken for granted, and are the frequent subjects both of conversation and writing. Though I am convinced that Caesar's ghost never appeared to Brutus, yet I should be much ashamed to be ignorant of that fact, as related by the historians of those times. Thus the Pagan theology is universally received as matter for writing and conversation, though believed now by nobody ; and we talk of Jupiter, Mars, Apollo, etc., as gods, though we know that, if they ever existed at all, it was only as mere mortal men. This historical Pyrrhonism, then, proves nothing against the study and knowledge of history ; which, of all other studies, is the most necessary for a man who is to live in the world. It only points out to us, not to be too decisive and peremptory ; and to be cautious how we draw inferences, for our own practice, from remote facts, partially or ignorantly related; of which we can * Pyrrho, the Philosopher of Elis, founder of the Sceptics or Pyrrho- nists, flourished about B.C. 340. 106 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. at best, but imperfectly guess, and certainly not know, the real motives. The testimonies of ancient history must necessarily be weaker than those of modern, as all testimony grows weaker and weaker, as it is more and more remote from us. I would therefore advise you to study ancient history, in general, as other people do ; that is, not to be ignorant of any of those facts which are universally received, upon the faith of the best historians; and, whether true or false, you have them as other people have them. But modern history, I mean particu- larly that of the three last centuries, is what I would have you apply to with the greatest attention and exactness. There the probability of coming at the truth is much greater, as the testi- monies are much more recent ; besides, anecdotes, memoirs, and original letters, often come to the aid of modern history. The best Memoirs that I know of are those of Cardinal de Retz, which I have once before recommended to you ; and which I advise you to read more than once, with attention. There are many politi- cal maxims in these Memoirs, most of which are printed in italics; pray attend to, and remember them. I never read them, but my own experience confirms the truth of them. Many of them seem trifling to people who are not used to business ; but those who are, feel the truth of them. It is time to put an end to this long, rambling letter ; in which, if any one thing can be of use to you, it will more than pay the trouble I have taken to write it. Adieu ! Yours. LXV. LONDON, May 10, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I reckon that this letter will find you just returning from Dresden, where you have made your first Court Caravane. What inclination for Courts this taste of them may have given you, I cannot tell; but this I think myself sure of, from your good sense, that, in leaving Dresden, you have left dissipation too ; and have resumed, at Leipsig, that application, which, if you like Courts, can alone enable you to make a good figure at them. A mere courtier, without parts or knowledge, is the most frivo- lous and contemptible of all beings ; as, on the other hand, a LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 107 man of parts and knowledge, who acquires the easy and noble manners of a Court, is the most perfect. It is a trite, common- place observation, that Courts are the seats of falsehood and dissimulation. That, like many, I might say most, common- place observations, is false. Falsehood and dissimulation are certainly to be found at Courts ; but where are they not to be found ? Cottages * have them as well as Courts, only with worse manners. A couple of neighbouring farmers in a village, will contrive and practise as many tricks to overreach each other at the next market, or to supplant each other in the favour of the Squire, as any two courtiers can do to supplant each other in the favour of their prince. Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of rural innocence and truth, and of the perfidy of Courts, this is most undoubtedly true that shepherds and ministers are both men; their nature and passions the same, the modes of them only different. Having mentioned common-place observations, I will particu- larly caution you against either using, believing or approving them. They are the common topics of witlings and coxcombs ; those who really have wit, have the utmost contempt for them, and scorn even to laugh at the pert things that those would-be wits say upon such subjects. Religion is one of their favourite topics ; it is all priest-craft, and an invention contrived and carried on by priests of all reli- gions, for their own power and profit; from this absurd and false principle flow the common-place, insipid jokes and insults upon the clergy. With these people, every priest, of every religion, is either a public or concealed unbeliever, drunkard, . . . . ; whereas I conceive that priests are extremely like other men, and neither the better nor the worse for wearing a gown or a surplice j but, if they are different from other people, probably ic is rather on the side of religion and morality, or at least decency, from their education and manner of life. Another common topic for false wit, and cold raillery, is matri- mony. Every man and his wife hate each other cordially, what- ever they may pretend in public to the contrary. The husband certainly wishes his wife at the devil, and the wife certainly cuckolds her husband. Whereas I presume that men and their * See Letter of 6th June, 1751. 108 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. wives neither love nor hate each other the more, upon account of the form of matrimony which has been said over them. The cohabitation, indeed, which is the consequence of matrimony, makes them either love or hate more, accordingly as they respec- tively deserve it; but that would be exactly the same between any man and woman who lived together without being married. These, and many other common-place reflections upon nations, or professions in general (which are at least as often false as true), are the poor refuge of people who have neither wit nor invention of their own, but endeavour to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put these pert jackanapeses out of countenance, by looking extremely grave, when they expect that I should laugh at their pleasantries ; and by saying well, and so, as if they had not done, and that the sting were still to come. This disconcerts them, as they have no resources in themselves, and have but one set of jokes to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to these shifts, and have the utmost contempt for them : they find proper subjects enough for either useful or lively conversations ; they can be witty without satire or common- place, and serious without being dull. The frequentation of Courts checks this petulancy of manners j the good-breeding and cir- cumspection which are necessary, and only to be learned there, correct those pertnesses. I do not doubt but that you are im- proved in your manners, by the short visit which you have made at Dresden ; and the other Courts, which I intend that you shall be better acquainted with, will gradually smooth you up to the highest polish. In Courts, a versatility of genius, and a softness of manners, are absolutely necessary, which some people mistake for abject flattery, and having no opinion of one's own : whereas it is only the decent and genteel manner of maintaining your own opinion, and possibly of bringing other people to it. The manner of doing things is often more important than the things themselves j and the very same thing may become either pleasing or offensive, by the manner of saying or doing it. Mate- riam superabat opus is often said of works of sculpture, where, though the materials were valuable, as silver, gold, etc., the workmanship was still more so. This holds true, applied to manners, which adorn whatever knowledge or parts people may have \ and even make a greater impression upon nine in ten of LORD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. 109 mankind, than the intrinsic value of the materials. On the other hand, remember, that what Horace says of good writing is justly applicable to those who would make a good figure in Courts, and distinguish themselves in the shining parts of life ; Sapere est principium et fons. A man who, without a good fund of know- ledge and parts, adopts a court life, makes the most ridiculous figure imaginable. He is a machine, little superior to the court clock ; and, as this points out the hours, he points out the frivo- lous employment of them. He is, at most, a comment upon the clock ; and, according to the hours that it strikes, tells you, now it is levee, now dinner, now supper time, etc. The end which I propose by your education, and which (if you please) I shall certainly attain, is, to unite in you all the know- ledge of a scholar, with the manners of a courtier; and to join, what is seldom joined in any of my countrymen, books and the world. They are commonly twenty years old before they have spoken to anybody above their schoolmaster, and the Fellows of their college. If they happen to have learning, it is only Greek and Latin; but not one word of modern history, or modern languages. Thus prepared, they go abroad, as they call it ; but, in truth, they stay at home all that while ; for being very awk- ward, confoundedly ashamed, and not speaking the languages, they go into no foreign company, at least none good ; but dine and sup with one another only, at the tavern. Such examples, I am sure, you will not imitate, but even carefully avoid. You will always take care to keep the best company in the place where you are, which is the only use of travelling : and (by the way) the pleasures of a gentleman are only to be found in the best company; for that riot, which low company most falsely and impudently call pleasure, is only the sensuality of a swine. I ask hard and uninterrupted study from you, but one year more ; after that you shall have, every day, more and more time for your amusements. A few hours each day will then be suffi- cient for application, and the others cannot be better employed than in the pleasures of good company. Adieu ! 110 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. LXVL LONDON, May, 17, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I received yesterday your letter of the 16th, N.S., and have in consequence of it, written this day to Sir Charles Williams,* to thank him for all the civilities he has shown you. Your first setting out at Court has, I find, been very favourable ; and his Polish majesty has distinguished you. I hope you received that mark of distinction with respect and with steadiness, which is the proper behaviour of a man of fashion. People of a low obscure education, cannot stand the rays of greatness : they are frightened out of their wits when kings and great men speak to them ; they are awkward, ashamed, and do not know what or how to answer; whereas les honnetes gens are not dazzled by superior rank ; they know and pay all the respect that is due to it, but they do it without being disconcerted, and can converse just as easily with a king as with any one of his subjects. That is the great advantage of being introduced young into good com- pany, and being used early to converse with one's superiors. How many men have I seen here, who, after having had the full benefit of an English education, first at school and then at the University, when they have been presented to the king, did not know whether they stood upon their heads or their heels ! If the king spoke to them, they were annihilated; they trembled, endeavoured to put their hands in their pockets, and missed them, let their hats fall, and were ashamed to take them up ; and, in short, put themselves in every attitude but the right, that is, the easy and natural one. The characteristic of a well-bred man is, to converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with respect and with ease. He talks to kings without concern ; he trifles with women of the first condition, with fami- * Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, who was at this time British minister at the Court of Dresden, and whose name will frequently recur in this correspondence. He was born in 1709, and died insane (it is said by his own hand) on the 2nd of November, 1759. During his lifetime he was not more highly extolled for his skill in diplomacy than for his wit both in conversation and in light pieces of poetry; but the collection of his works, published in 1822, has by no means tended to increase, or even confirm, his reputation. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Ill liarity, gaiety, but respect; and converses with his equals, whether he is acquainted with them or not, upon general, com- mon topics, that are not, however, quite frivolous, without the least concern of mind, or awkwardness of body ; neither of which can appear to advantage, but when they are perfectly easy. The tea-things which Sir Charles Williams has given you, I would have you make a present of to your mamma, and send them to her by Duval, when he returns. You owe her not only duty, but likewise great obligations, for her care and tenderness ; and, consequently, cannot take too many opportunities of showing your gratitude. I am impatient to receive your account of Dresden, and like- wise your answers to the many questions that I asked you. Adieu for this time, and God bless you ! LXVII. LONDON, May 27, O.S- 1748. DisAE BOY, This, and the two next years, make so important a period of your life, that I cannot help repeating to you my exhortations, my commands, and (what I hope will be still more prevailing with you than either) my earnest entreaties to employ them well. Every moment that you now lose, is so much character and ad- vantage lost ; as, on the other hand, every moment that you now employ usefully, is so much time wisely laid out, at most pro- digious interest. These two years must lay the foundations of all the knowledge that you will ever have ; you may build upon them afterwards as much as you please, but it will be too late to lay any new ones. Let me beg of you, therefore, to grudge no labour nor pains to acquire in time, that stock of knowledge without which you never can rise, but must make a very insigni- ficant figure in the world. Consider your own situation ; you have not the advantage of rank and fortune to bear you up ; I shall very probably, be out of the world before you can properly be said to be in it. What, then, will you have to rely on but your own merit ? That alone must raise you, and that alone will raise you, if you have but enough of it. I have often heard and read of oppressed and unrewarded merit ; but I have oftener (I 112 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. might say always) seen great merit make its way, and meet with its reward, to a certain degree at least, in spite of all difficulties. By merit I mean the moral virtues, knowledge, and manners ; as to the moral virtues, I say nothing to you, they speak best for themselves ; nor can I suspect that they want any recommenda- tion with you ; I will therefore only assure you, that, without them, you will be most unhappy. As to knowledge, I have often told you, and I am persuaded you are thoroughly convinced, how absolutely necessary it is to you, whatever your destination may be. But as knowledge has a most extensive meaning, and as the life of man is not long enough to acquire, nor his mind capable of entertaining and digesting all parts of knowledge, I will point out those to which you should particularly apply, and which, by application, you may make yourself perfect master of. Classical knowledge, that is, Greek and Latin, is absolutely necessary for everybody; because everybody has agreed to think and to call it so. And the word illiterate, in its common acceptation, means a man who is ignorant of those two languages. You are by this time, I hope, pretty near master of both, so that a small part of the day dedicated to them, for two years more, will make you perfect in that study. Rhetoric, logic, a little geometry, and a general notion of astronomy, must, in their turns, have their hours too ; not that I desire you should be deep in any one of these ; but it is fit you should know something of them all. The knowledge more particularly useful and necessary for you, considering your des- tination, consists of modern languages, modern history, chrono- logy, and geography; the laws of nations, and the jus publicum Imperii. You must absolutely speak all the modern languages, as purely and correctly as the natives of the respective countries : for whoever does not speak a language perfectly and easily, will never appear to advantage in conversation, nor treat with othera in it upon equal terms. As for French, you have it very well already ; and must necessarily, from the universal usage of that language, know it better and better every day ; so that I am in no pain about that. German, I suppose, you know pretty well by this time, and will be quite master of it before you leave Leipsig ; at least I am sure you may. Italian and Spanish will come in their turns, and, indeed, they are both so easy to on& LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 113 who knows Latin and French, that neither of them will cost you much time or trouble. Modern history, by which I mean par- ticularly the history of the last three centuries, should be the object of your greatest and constant attention, especially those parts of it which relate more immediately to the great Powers of Europe. This study you will carefully connect with chrono- logy and geography ; that is, you will remark and retain the dates of every important event ; and always read with the map by you, in which you will constantly look for every place men- tioned : this is the only way of retaining geography ; for, though it is soon learned by the lump, yet, when only so learned, it is still sooner forgot Manners, though the last, and it may be the least ingredient of real merit, are, however, very far from being useless in its composition ; they adorn and give an additional force and lustre to both virtue and knowledge. They prepare and smooth the way for the progress of both ; and are, I fear, with the bulk of man- kind, more engaging than either. Remember, then, the infinite advantage of manners; cultivate and improve your own to the utmost ; good sense will suggest the great rules to you, good company will do the rest. Thus you see how much you have to do, and how little time to do it in : for when you are thrown out into the world, as in a couple of years you must be, the unavoidable dissipation of company, and the necessary avocations of some kind of business or other, will leave you no time to undertake new branches of knowledge. You may, indeed, by a prudent allotment of your time, reserve some to complete and finish the building ; but you will never find enough to lay new foundations. I have such an opinion of your understanding, that I am convinced you are sensible of these truths ; and that, how- ever hard and laborious your present uninterrupted application may seem to you, you will rather increase than lessen it. For God's sake, my dear boy, do not squander away one moment of your time, for every moment may be now most usefully employed. Your future fortune, character, and figure in the world, entirely depend upon your use and abuse of the two next years. If you do but employ them well, what may you not reasonably expect to be in time ? and, if you do not, what may I not reasonably fear you will be ? VOL. i. I 114 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. You are the only one I ever knew, of this country, whose education was, from the beginning, calculated for the department of foreign affairs : in consequence of which, if you will invariably pursue, and diligently qualify yourself for that object, you may make yourself absolutely necessary to the Government; and, after having received orders as a Minister abroad, send orders, in your turn, as Secretary of State at home. Most of our minis- ters abroad have taken up that department occasionally, without having ever thought of foreign affairs before; many of them without speaking any one foreign language ; and all of them without the manners which are absolutely necessary towards being well received, and making a figure at foreign Courts. They do the business accordingly that is, very ill. They never get into the secrets of those Courts, for want of insinuation and address ; they do not guess at their views, for want of knowing their interests ; and at last, finding themselves very unfit for, soon grow weary of, their commissions, and are impatient to return home, where they are but too justly laid aside and ne- glected. Every moment's conversation may, if you please, be of use to you: in this view, every public event, which is the common topic of conversation, gives you an opportunity of getting some information. For example : the preliminaries of peace, lately concluded at Aix-la-Chapelle, will be the common subject of most conversations ; in which you will take care to ask the proper questions : as, What is the meaning of the Asiento contract for negroes between England and Spain ? what the annual ship ? when stipulated ? upon what account suspended ? etc. You will likewise inform yourself about Guastalla (now given to Don Philip,* together with Parma and Placentia), whom they be- longed to before ; what claim or pretensions Don Philip had to them ; what they are worth ; in short, everything concerning them. The cessions made by the Queen of Hungary to the King of Sardinia are, by these preliminaries, confirmed and secured to him; you will inquire, therefore, what they are, and what -they are worth. This is the kind of knowledge which you should be most thoroughly master of, and in which conversation will help you almost as much as books; but both are best. There are histories of every considerable treaty, from that of Westphalia to * Infant of Spain, and half-brother of King Ferdinand the Sixth. LORD CHESTERFIELp's LETTERS. 115 fchat of Utrecht inclusively, all which I would advise you to read. Pere Bougeant's, of the Treaty of Westphalia, is an excellent one ; those of Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht, are not so well written, but are, however, very useful. L'Histoire des Traites de Paix, in two volumes folio, which I recommended to you some time ago, is a book that you should often consult, when you hear mention made of any treaty concluded in the seventeenth century. Upon the whole, if you have a mind to be considerable, and to shine hereafter, you must labour hard now. No quickness of parts, no vivacity, will do long, or go far, without a solid fund of knowledge ; and that fund of knowledge will amply repay all the pains that you can take in acquiring it. Reflect seriously within yourself upon all this, and ask yourself whether I can have any view but your interest in all that I recommend to you. It is the result of my experience, and flows from that tenderness and affec- tion with which, while you deserve them, I shall be Yours. Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have received his letter of the 24th, N.S. LXVIII LONDON, May 31, O.S. 1748. DEAK BOY, I have received, with great satisfaction, your letter of the 28th, N.S., from Dresden : it finishes your short but clear account of the Reformation, which is one of those interesting periods of modern history that cannot be too much studied nor too minutely known by you. There are many great events in history, which, when once they are over, leave things in the situation in which they found them : as, for instance, the late war, which, excepting the establishment in Italy for Don Philip, leaves things pretty much in statu quo, a mutual restitution of all acquisitions being stipulated by the preliminaries of the peace. Such events, undoubtedly, deserve your notice, but yet not so minutely as those, which are not only important in themselves, but equally (or it may be more) important by their consequences too. Of this latter sort were the progress of the Christian religion in Europe ; the invasion of the Goths ; the division of the Roman empire into western and eastern ; the establishment 116 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and rapid progress of Mahometanism ; and lastly, the Reforma- tion ; all which events produced the greatest changes in the affairs of Europe, and to one or other of which the present situation of all the parts of it is to be traced up. Next to these, are those events which more immediately affect particular states and kingdoms, and which are reckoned merely local, though their influence may, and indeed very often does, indirectly extend itself further; such as civil wars and revolu- tions, from which a total change in the form of government frequently flows. The civil wars in England in the reign of King Charles I. produced an entire change of the government here, from a limited monarchy to a commonwealth at first, and afterwards, to absolute power, usurped by Cromwell under the pretence of protection and the title of Protector. The Revolution, in 1688, instead of changing, preserved our form of government, which King James II. intended to subvert, and establish absolute power in the Crown. These are the two great epochas in our English history, which I recommend to your particular attention. The league formed by the House of Guise, and fomented by the artificers of Spain, is a most material part of the history of France. The foundation of it was laid in the reign of Henry II., but the superstructure was carried on through the successive reigns of Francis II., Charles IX., and Henry III., till at last it was crushed, partly by the arms, but more by the apostasy, of Henry IV. In Germany great events have been frequent, by which the Imperial dignity has always either gotten or lost ; and so far they have affected the constitution of the empire. The House of Austria kept that dignity to itself for near two hundred years, during which time it was always attempting to extend its power by encroaching upon the rights and privileges of the other states of the empire ; till at the end of the bellum tricennale the Treaty of Munster, of which France is guarantee, fixed the respective claims. Italy has been constantly torn to pieces, from the time of the Goths, by the Popes and the anti-Popes, severally supported by other great Powers of Europe, more as their interest than as their religion led them ; by the pretensions also of France and the LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 117 House of Austria, upon Naples, Sicily, and the Milanese, not to mention the various lesser causes of squabbles there for the little states, such as Ferrara, Parma, Montferrat, etc. The Popes, till lately, have always taken a considerable part and had great influence in the affairs of Europe : their excom- munications, bulls, and indulgences stood instead of armies in the times of ignorance and bigotry ; but now that mankind is better informed, the spiritual authority of the Pope is not only less regarded, but even despised by the Catholic princes themselves ; and his Holiness is actually little more than Bishop of Rome, with large temporalities, which he is not likely to keep longer than till the other greater Powers in Italy shall find their con- veniency in taking them from him. Among the modern Popes, Leo X., Alexander VI., and Sixtus Quintus, deserve your particular notice; the first, among other things, for his own learning and taste, and for his encouragement of the reviving arts and sciences in Italy. Under his protection, the Greek and Latin classics were most excellently translated into Italian ; paint- ing flourished, and arrived at its perfection ; and sculpture came so near the ancients, that the works of his time, both in marble and bronze, are now called antico-moderno. Alexander VI., together with his natural son, Csesar Borgia, was famous for his wickedness, in which he and his son too surpassed all imagination. Their lives are well worth your read- ing. They were poisoned themselves by the poisoned wine which they had prepared for others; the father died of it, but Caesar recovered. Sixtus V. was the son of a swineherd, and raised himself to the Popedom by his abilities : he was a great knave, but an able and a singular one. Here is history enough for to-day ; you shall have some more soon. Adieu ! LXIX. LONDON, June 21, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, Your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such real concern, that it will be the subject of this, and I believe of many more letters. I congratulate both you and 118 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. myself that I was informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it ; and shall ever think myself, as hereafter you will I am sure think yourself, infinitely obliged to Sir Charles Williams for in- forming me of it. Good God ! if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in company or in a public assembly ! Who would have liked you in the one, or have attended to you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay upon the gracefulness of it ; nay, Cicero goes further, and even maintains that a good figure is necessary for an orator ; and, particularly, that he must not be vastus, that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it, that he knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a graceful manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through the senses; please their eyes and their ears, and the work is half done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided for ever by his first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily into a persuasion that he has a merit which possibly he has not; as, on the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at first it may seem ; for, if a man has parts, he must know of what infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of speaking, and a genteel and pleasing address : he will cultivate and improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one ; you have no natural defect in the organs of speech; your address may be engaging and your manner of speaking graceful if you will; so that if they are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to all actors upon the stage ? Is it not, that those who have the best sense always speak the best, though they may happen not to have the best voices ? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper emphasis, be their voices ever so bad. Had Roscius spoken quick, thick, and ungracefully, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not have thought him worth the oration LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 119 which he made in his favour. Words were given us to com- municate our ideas by ; and there must be something inconceiv- ably absurd in uttering them in such a manner as that either people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. I tell you truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking most gracefully, for I aver that it is in your power. You will desire Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him every day ; and that he will interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast, do not observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care to open your teeth when you speak, to articulate every word distinctly, and to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomever you speak to, to remind and stop you if ever you fall into the rapid and unintelligible mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utterance to your own ear ; and read at first much slower than you need to do, in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster than you ought. In short, you will make it your business, your study, and your pleasure, to speak well if you think right. Therefore, what I have said in this and in my last is more than sufficient if you have sense, and ten times more would not be sufficient if you have not : so here I rest it. Next to graceful speaking, a genteel carriage and a graceful manner of presenting yourself are extremely necessary, for they are extremely engaging; and carelessness in these points is much more unpardonable in a young fellow than affectation. It shows an offensive indifference about pleasing. I am told by one here, who has seen you lately, that you are awkward in your motions, and negligent of your person : I am sorry for both ; and so will you, when it will be too late, if you continue so some time longer. Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating ; and a total negligence of dress and air is an impertinent insult upon custom and fashion. You remember Mr. * * * very well, I am sure, and you must consequently remember his extreme awkward- ness; which, I can assure you, has been a great clog to his parts and merit, that have, with much difficulty, but barely 120 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. counterbalanced it at last. Many, to whom I have formerly commended him, have answered me, That they were sure he could not have parts because he was so awkward : so much are people, as I observed to you before, taken by the eye. Women have great influence as to a man's fashionable cha- racter; and an awkward man will never have their votes; which, by the way, are very numerous, and much oftener counted than weighed. You should therefore give some attention to your dress, and to the gracefulness of your motions. I believe, indeed, that you have no perfect model for either, at Leipsig, to form yourself upon ; but, however, do not get a habit of neglecting either : and attend properly to both when you go to Courts where they are very necessary, and where you will have good masters and good models for both. Your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, will civilize and fashion your body and your limbs, and give you, if you will but take it, Vair d'un honnete homme. I will now conclude with suggesting one reflection to you ; which is, that you should be sensible of your good fortune in having one who interests himself enough in you to inquire into your faults in order to inform you of them. Nobody but myself would be so solicitous either to know or correct them, so that you might consequently be ignorant of them yourself; for our own self-love draws a thick veil between us and our faults. But when you hear yours from me, you may be sure that you hear them from one who for your sake only desires to correct them ; from one whom you cannot suspect of any partiality but in your favour ; and from one who heartily wishes that his care of you, as a father, may in a little time render every care unnecessary but that of a friend. Adieu ! P.S. I condole with you for the untimely and violent death of the tuneful Matzel. * * The reference is to a bullfinch whose death was lamented by Sir Charles Hanbury Williams to young Stanhope, in a letter and an ode. The Ode was first published in vol. iv. of Dodsley's " Collection," 1755 ; and in Mrs. Stanhope's edition of Chesterfield's "Letters to his Son," she gives a copy of the letter and the verses ; the originals of which were in her possession. The Ode is here given as in Dodsley ; verse vii. was not published in either Mrs. Stanhope's or Lord Mahon's edition. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 121 LXX. LONDON, July 1, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I am extremely well pleased with the course of studies which Mr. Harte informs me you are now in, and with the degree of application which he assures me you have to them. It is your interest to do so, as the advantage will be all your own. My affection for you makes me both wish and endeavour that you may turn out well ; and according as you do turn out, I shall be either proud or ashamed of you. But as to mere interest, in the common acceptation of that word, it would be To PHILIP STANHOPE, ESQ., THEN AT LEIPSIG. DRESDEN, Wth June, 1748. DEAR STANHOPE, A cursed large, frightful, blood-thirsty, horrible, fierce black cat got into my room on Saturday night ; and yesterday morning we found some few remains of Matzel ; but traces enough to prove he had been murdered in the night by that infernal cat. Stevens cried, Dick cursed and swore, and I stood dumb with grief ; which I believe would have choked me, if I had not given vent to it in the following Ode ; which I have addressed to you, to make you the only amends in my power for the loss of sensible, obedient, harmonious Matzel. To PHILIP STANHOPE, ESQ. Upon the death of Matzel, a favourite Bullfinch, that was mine, and which he had the reversion of, whenever I left Dresden. Fungar inani Munere. Try not, my Stanhope, 'tis in vain, To stop your tears, to hide your pain, Or check your honest rage. Give sorrow and revenge their scope ; My present joy, your future hope, Lies murdered in his cage. Matzel's no more Ye Graces, Loves, Ye Linnets, Nightingales, and Doves, Attend th' untimely bier. Let every sorrow be exprest ; Beat with your wings each mournful breast, And drop the natural tear. 122 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. mine that you should turn out ill ; for you may depend upon it that whatever you have from me shall be most exactly propor- tioned to your desert. Deserve a great deal, and you shall have a great deal ; deserve little, and you shall have but a little ; and be good for nothing at all, and, I assure you, you shall have nothing at all. Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and great foundation of your future fortune and character; for I never mention to you the two much greater points of religion In height of pong, in beauty's pride, By fell Grimalkin's claws he died ; But vengeance shall have way ; On pains and torture I'll refine ; Yet, Matzel, that one death of thine His nine will ill repay. For thee, my Bird, the sacred Nine, Who loved thy tuneful notes, shall join In thy funereal verse. My painful task shall be to write Th' eternal dirge which they indite, And hang it on thy hearse. In vain I loved, in vain I mourn, My bird, who, never to return, Is fled to happier shades ; Where Lesbia's shall for him prepare The place most charming and most fair Of all th' Elysian glades. There shall thy notes in cypress grove Soothe wretched ghosts that died for love, There shall thy plaintive strain Lull impious Phaedra's endless grief, To Procris yield some short relief, \ And soften Dido's pain. Till Proserpine by chance shall hear Thy notes, and make thee all her care, And love thee with my love ; While each attendant's soul shall praise The matchless Matzel's tuneful lays, And all his songs approve. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 123 and morality, because I cannot possibly suspect you as to either of them. This solid knowledge you are in a fair way of ac- quiring ; you may if you please ; and I will add, that nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their power than you have. But remember that manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way through the world. Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value ; but it will never be worn, nor shine, if it is not polished. It is upon this article, I confess, that I suspect you the most, which makes me recur to it so often ; for I fear that you are apt to show too little attention to everybody, and too much contempt to many. Be convinced, that there are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable but may, some time or other, and in something or other, have it in their power to be of use to you, which they certainly will not if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt never is ; our pride remembers it for ever : it implies a discovery of weaknesses which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to his most intimate one ; as many a friend will tell us our faults without reserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies. That discovery is too mortify- ing to our self-love, either to tell another, or to be told of one's self. You must therefore never expect to hear of your weak- nesses or your follies from anybody but me ; those I will take pains to discover, and whenever I do shall tell you of them. Next to Manners, are exterior graces of person and address , which adorn Manners, as Manners adorn Knowledge. To say that they please, engage, and charm, as they most indisputably do, is saying that one should do everything possible to acquire them. The graceful manner of speaking is, particularly, what I shall always holloa in your ears, as Hotspur holloaed Mortimer to Henry IV. ; and, like him, too, I have aimed to have a starling* taught to say, speak distinctly and gracefully, and send him you, to replace your loss of the unfortunate Matzel ; who, by the way, I am told, spoke his language very distinctly and grace- fully. * See Shakespeare's 1 Henry IV. i. 3. 124 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. As by this time you must be able to write German tolerably well, I desire that you will not fail to write a German letter, in the German character, once every fortnight, to Mr. Grevenkop ; which will make it more familiar to you, and enable me to judge how you improve in it. Do not forget to answer me the questions which I asked you a great while ago, in relation to the constitution of Saxony ; and also the meaning of the words Landsassii and Amptsassii. I hope you do not forget to inquire into the affairs of Trade and Commerce, nor to get the best accounts you can, of the commodities and manufactures, exports and imports, of the several countries where you may be, and their gross value. I would likewise have you attend to the respective coins, gold, silver, copper, etc., and their value, compared with our coins ; for which purpose, I would advise you to put up, in a separate piece of paper, one piece of every kind, wherever you shall be, writing upon it the name and the value. Such a collection will be curious enough in itself; and that sort of knowledge will be very useful to you in your way of business, where the different value of money often comes in question. I am going to Cheltenham to-morrow, less for my health, which is pretty good, than for the dissipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stay about a fortnight. I/ Abbe Mably's* Droit de V Europe, which Mr. Harte is so kind as to send me, is worth your reading. Adieu 1 LXXI. CHELTENHAM, July 6, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney, f set out last week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipsig soon after this letter : you will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do him any service that you can, while you stay there ; let him know that I wrote to you to do so. As being older, he should know * Gabriel Bonnet de Mably, a French historian, 1709-1785. f Lord Pulteney was son of the celebrated statesman William Pulteney, created, in 1742, Earl of Bath. But Lord Pulteney died before his father, at whose decease, in 1764, the title became extinct. M. LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 125 more than you ; in that case take pains to get up to him ; but, if he does not, take care not to let him feel his inferiority. He will find it out of himself, without your endeavours ; and that cannot be helped : but nothing is more insulting, more mortify- ing, and less forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a man feel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, etc. In the two last articles, it is unjust, they not being in his power ; and, in the first, it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding, and good-nature, do incline us rather to help and raise people up to ourselves, than to mortify and depress them : and, in truth, our own private interest concurs in it, as it is making ourselves so many friends, instead of so many enemies. The constant practice of what the French call les attentions, is a most necessary ingredient in the art of pleasing ; they flatter the self-love of those to whom they are shown ; they engage, they captivate, more than things of much greater im- portance. The duties of social life, every man is obliged to discharge ; but these attentions are voluntary acts, the freewill offerings of good-breeding and good-nature ; they are received, remembered, and returned as such. Women, particularly, have a right to them ; and any omission, in that respect, is downright ill-breeding. Do you employ your whole time in the most useful manner ? I do not mean, do you study all day long ? nor do I require it. But I mean, do you make the most of the respective allotments of your time ? While you study, is it with attention ? When you divert yourself, is it with spirit ? Your diversions may, if you please, employ some part of your time very usefully. It depends entirely upon the nature of them. If they are futile and frivolous, it is time worse than lost, for they will give you an habit of futility. All gaming, field-sports, and such sort of amusements, where neither the understanding nor the senses have the least share, I look upon as frivolous, and as the resources of little minds, who either do not think, or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of parts, either flatter the senses, or improve the mind ; I hope, at least, that there is not one minute of the day in which you do nothing at all. Inaction, at your age, is unpardonable. Tell me what Greek and Latin books you can now read with 126 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. ease. Can you open Demosthenes at a venture, and understand him ? Can you get through au Oration of Cicero, or a Satire of Horace, without difficulty? What German book do you read, to make yourself master of that language ? And what French books do you read for your amusement? Pray give me a particular and true account of all this ; for I am not indifferent as to any one thing that relates to you. As, for example, I hope you take great care to keep your whole person, particularly your mouth, very clean : common decency requires it ; besides that, great cleanliness is very conducive to health. But if you do not keep your mouth excessively clean, by washing it carefully every morn- ing, and after every meal, it will not only be apt to smell, which is very disgusting and indecent, but your teeth will decay and ache, which is both a great loss and a great pain. A spruceness of dress is also very proper and becoming at your age ; as the negligence of it implies an indifferency about pleasing, which does not become a young fellow. To do, whatever you do at all, to the utmost perfection, ought to be your aim, at this time of your life : if you can reach perfection, so much the better ; but, at least, by attempting it, you will get much nearer than if you never attempted it at all. Adieu ! Speak gracefully and distinctly, if you intend to con- verse ever with Tours. P.S. As I was making up my letter, I received yours of the 6th N.S. I like your dissertation upon Preliminary Articles, and Truces. Your definitions of both are true. Those are matters of which I would have you be master; they belong to your future department. But remember, too, that they are matters upon which you will much oftener have occasion to speak than to write; and that, consequently, it is full as necessary to speak gracefully and distinctly upon them, as to write clearly and elegantly. I find no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the moderns, for indistinct and unintelligible utterance. The Oracles indeed meaned to be obscure ; but then it was by the ambiguity of the expression, and not by the inarticulation of the words. For, if people had not thought, at least, they under- sto'xi 'hnm, thev woul I neither havft frequented nor presented LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 127 them as they did. There was likewise, among the ancients, and is still among the moderns, a sort of people called Ventriloqui, who speak from their bellies, or make the voice seem to come from some other part of the room than that where they are. But these Ventriloqui speak very distinctly and intelligibly. The only thing, then, that I can find like a precedent for your way of speaking (and I would willingly help you to one if I could) is the modern art de Peraifter practised with great success by the petits mattres at Paris. This noble art consists in picking out some grave, serious man, who neither understands nor expects raillery, and talking to him very quick, and in inarticulate sounds ; while the man, who thinks that he either did not hear well, or attend sufficiently, says, Monsieur or Plait-il ? a hundred times ; which affords matter of much mirth to those ingenious gentlemen. Whether you would follow this precedent I submit to you. Have you carried no English or French comedies or tragedies with you to Leipsig ? If you have, I insist upon your reciting some passages of them every day to Mr. Harte, in the most distinct and graceful manner, as if you were acting them upon a stage. The first part of my letter is more than an answer to your question concerning Lord Pulteney. LXXII. LONDON, July 26, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, There are two sorts of understandings ; one of which hinders a man from ever being considerable, and the other commonly makes him ridiculous; I mean, the lazy mind, and the trifling, frivolous mind. Yours, I hope, is neither. The lazy mind will not take the trouble of going to the bottom of anything ; but, discouraged by the first difficulties, (and every thing worth know- ing or having is attended with some,) stops short, contents itself with easy, and, consequently, superficial knowledge, and prefers a great degree of ignorance to a small degree of trouble. These people either think, or represent, most things as impossible ; whereas few things are so, to industry and activity. But diffi- 128 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. culties seem to them impossibilities, or at least they pretend to think them so, by way of excuse for their laziness. An hour's attention to the same object is too laborious for them ; they take everything in the light in which it first presents itself, never consider it in all its different views ; and, in short, never think it thorough. The consequence of this is, that, when they come to speak upon these subjects before people who have considered them with attention, they only discover their own ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to answers that put them in confusion. Do not then be discouraged by the first difficulties, but contra audentior ito ; and resolve to go to the bottom of all those things which every gentleman ought to know well. Those arts of sciences, which are peculiar to certain professions, need not be deeply known by those who are not intended for those professions. As for instance ; fortification and navigation ; of both which, a superficial and general knowledge, such as the common course of conversation, with a very little inquiry on your part, will give you, is sufficient. Though, by the way, a little more knowledge of fortification may be of some use to you ; as the events of war, in sieges, make many of the terms of that science occur frequently in common conversations ; and one would be sorry to say, like the Marquis de Mascarille, in Moliere's Pre- cieuses Ridicules, when he hears of une demie Lune ; Ma foi, c'etoit bien une Lune toute entiere. But those things which every gen- tleman, independently of profession, should know, he ought to know well, and dive into all the depths of them. Such are languages, history, and geography ancient and modern; philo- sophy, rational logic, rhetoric ; and, for you particularly, the constitutions, and the civil and military state of every country in Europe. This, I confess, is a pretty large circle of knowledge attended with some difficulties, and requiring some trouble ; which, however, an active and industrious mind will overcome, and be amply repaid. The trifling and frivolous mind is always busied, but to little purpose ; it takes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon trifles that time and attention, which only important things deserve. Knick-knacks, butterflies, shells, insects, etc., are the objects of their most serious researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters, of the company they keep. They LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. 129 attend more to the decorations of a play, than to the sense of it ; and to the ceremonies of a Court, more than to its politics. Such an employment of time is an absolute loss of it. You have now, at most, three years to employ, either well or ill ; for, as I have often told you, you will be all your life, what you shall be three years hence. For God's sake, then, reflect : will you throw away this time, either in laziness, or in trifles ? Or will you not rather employ every moment of it in a manner that must so soon reward you, with so much pleasure, figure, and character ? I cannot, I will not, doubt of your choice. Bead only useful books; and never quit a subject till you are thoroughly master of it, but read and inquire on till then. When you are in company, bring the conversation to some useful subject, but a portee of that com- pany. Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular countries, the several orders of Knighthood, as Teu- tonic, Maltese, etc., are surely better subjects of conversation than the weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories, that carry no infor- mation along with them. The characters of Kings and great men are only to be learned in conversation ; for they are never fairly written during their lives. This, therefore, is an enter- taining and instructive subject of conversation, and will likewise give you an opportunity of observing how very differently char- acters are given, from the different passions and views of those who give them. Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking questions ; for if they lead to information, and if you accompany them with some ex- cuse, you will never be reckoned an impertinent or rude ques- tioner. All those things, in the common course cf life, depend entirely upon the manner ; and in that respect the vulgar saying is true, " That one man may better steal a horse, than another look over the hedge." There are few things that may not be said in some manner or other ; either in a seeming confidence, or a genteel irony, or introduced with wit : and one great part of the knowledge of the world consists in knowing when, and where, to make use of these different manners. The graces of the person, the countenance, and the way of speaking, contribute so much to this, that I am convinced, the very same thing, said by a genteel person, in an engaging way, and gracefully and dis- tinctly spoken, would please ; which would shock, if muttered out VOL. i. K 130 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. by an awkward figure, with a sullen, serious countenance. The poets always represent Venus as attended by the three Graces, to intimate that even Beauty will not do without. I think they should have given Minerva three also; for, without them, I am sure, learning is very unattractive. Invoke them, then, dis- tinctly, to accompany all your words and motions. Adieu ! P.S. Since I wrote what goes before, I have received your letter, of no date, with the enclosed state of the Prussian forces : of which I hope you have kept a copy ; this you should lay in a porte-feuille, and add to it all the military establishments that you can get, of other states and kingdoms : the Saxon establishment you may, doubtless, easily find. By the way, do not forget to send me answers to the questions which I sent you some time ago, concerning both the civil and the ecclesiastical affairs of Saxony. Do not mistake me, and think I only mean that you should speak elegantly with regard to style and the purity of language ; but I mean, that you should deliver and pronounce what you say, gracefully and distinctly ; for which purpose, I will have you frequently read, very loud, to Mr. Harte, recite parts of orations, and speak passages of plays. For, without a graceful and pleas- ing enunciation, all your elegancy of style, in speaking, is not worth one farthing. I am very glad that Mr. Lyttelton approves of my new house, and particularly of my Canonical pillars. My bust of Cicero is a very fine one, and well preserved ; it will have the best place in my library, unless, at your return, yon bring me over as good a modern head of your own ; which I should like still better. I can tell you that I shall examine it as attentively as ever anti- quary did an old one. Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, whose recovery I rejoice at. LXXIII. LONDON, August 2, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, Duval, the jeweller, is arrived, and was with me three or four days ago. You will easily imagine that I asked him a few questions concerning you ; and I will give you the satisfaction LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 131 of knowing, that, upon the whole, I was very well pleased with the account he gave me. But, though he seemed to be much in your interest, yet he fairly owned to me, that your utterance was rapid, thick, and ungraceful. I can add nothing to what I have already said upon this subject; but I can and do repeat the absolute necessity of speaking distinctly and gracefully, or else of not speaking at all, and having recourse to signs. He tells me that you are pretty fat for one of your age : this you should attend to in a proper way ; for if, while very young, you should grow fat, it would be troublesome, unwholesome, and ungraceful: you should therefore, when you have time, take very strong ex- ercise, and in your diet avoid fattening things. All malt liquors fatten, or at least bloat ; and I hope you do not deal much in them. I look upon wine and water to be, in every respect, much wholesomer. Duval says, there is a great deal of very good company at Madame Valentin's, and at another lady's, I think one Madame Ponce's, at Leipsig. Do you ever go to either of those houses, at leisure times ? It would not, in my mind, be amiss if you did ; and would give you a habit of attentions : they are a tribute which all women expect, and which all men, who would be well received by them, must pay. And whatever the mind may be, manners, at least, are certainly improved by the company of women of fashion. I have formerly told you, that you should inform yourself of the several Orders, whether military or religious, of the respective countries where you may be. The Teutonic Order is the great Order of Germany, of which I send you enclosed a short account. It may serve to suggest questions to you, for more particular in- quiries as to the present state of it : of which you ought to be minutely informed. The Knights at present make vows, of which they observe none, except it be that of not marrying ; and their only object now is to arrive, by seniority, at the Oommanderies in their respective provinces, which are, many of them, very lucrative. The Order of Malta is, by a very few years, prior to the Teutonic, and owes its foundation to the same causes. These Knights were first called Knights Hospitaliers * of St. John of Jerusalem, then Knights of Rhodes; and, in the year 1530, * Chesterfield retains the French form of Hospitallers. 132 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Knights of Malta, the Emperor Charles V. having granted them that island, upon condition of their defending his island of Sicily against the Turks, which they effectually did. L'Abbe de Vertot has written the History of Malta, but it is the least valuable of all his works ; and, moreover, too long for you to read. But there is a short history of all the military Orders whatsoever, which I would advise you to get ; as there is also of all the re- ligious Orders ; both which are worth your having, and consult- ing whenever you meet with any of them in your way, as you will very frequently in Catholic countries. For my own part, I find that I remember things much better, when I recur to my books for them upon some particular occasion, than by reading them tout de suite. As, for example, if I were to read the history of all the military or religious Orders regularly, one after another, the latter puts the former out of my head; but when I read the histoi'y of any one, upon account of its having been the object of conversation or dispute, I remember it much better. It is the same in geography, where, looking for any particular place in the map, upon some particular account, fixes it in one's memory for ever. I hope you have worn out your maps, by frequent use of that sort. Adieu ! P.S. I have this moment received your letter of the 4th, N.S., and have only time to tell you, that I can by no means agree to your cutting off your hair. I am very sure that your headaches cannot proceed from thence ; and as for the pimples upon your head, they are only owing to the heat of the season, and con- sequently will not last long. But your own hair is, at your age, such an ornament, and a wig, however well made, such a dis- guise, that I will upon no account whatsoever have you cut off your hair. Nature did not give it you for nothing, still less to cause you the headache. Mr. Eliot's hair grew so ill and bushy, that he was in the right to cut it off. But you have not the same reason. LXXIV. LONDON, August 23, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, Your friend Mr. Eliot has dined with me twice since I re- turned hither; and I can say with truth, that, while I had the LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEfce 133 Seals, I never examined or sifted a state-prisoner with so much care and curiosity as I did him. Nay, I did more ; for, contrary to the laws of this country, I gave him, in some manner, the Question ordinary and extraordinary ; and I have infinite pleasure in telling you that the rack which I put him to did not extort from him one single word that was not such as I wished to hear of you. I heartily congratulate you upon such an advantageous testimony from so creditable a witness. Laudari a laudato viro is one of the greatest pleasures and honours a rational being can have ; may you long continue to deserve it ! Your aversion to drinking and your dislike to gaming, which Mr. Eliot assures me are both very strong, give me the greatest joy imaginable for your sake ; as the former would ruin both your constitution and understand- ing, and the latter your fortune and character. Mr. Harte wrote me word some time ago, and Mr. Eliot confirms it now, that you employ your pin-money in a very different manner from that in which pin-money is commonly lavished; not in gewgaws and baubles, but in buying good and useful books. This is an excel- lent symptom, and gives me very good hopes. Go on thus, my dear boy, but for these two next years, and I ask no more. You must then make such a figure and such a fortune in the world as I wish you, and as I have taken all these pains to enable you to do. After that time, I allow you to be as idle as ever you please ; because I am sure that you will not then please to be so at all. The ignorant and the weak only are idle ; but those who have once acquired a good stock of knowledge always desire to in- crease it. Knowledge is like power in this respect, that those who have the most are most desirous of having more. It does not cloy by possession, but increases desire, which is the case of very few pleasures. Upon receiving this congratulatory letter, and reading your own praises, I am sure that it must naturally occur to you how great a share of them you owe to Mr. Harte's care and attention ; and, consequently, that your regard and affection for him must increase, if there be room for it, in proportion as you reap, which you do daily, the fruits of his labours. I must not, however, conceal from you that there was one article in which your own witness, Mr. Eliot, faltered ; for, upon my questioning him home as to your manner of speaking, he 134 LORD GHKSTKBPIKLD'S LETTKKS. could not say that your utterance was either distinct or graceful. I have already said so much to you upon this point that I can add nothing. I will therefore only repeat this truth, which is, That if you will not speak distinctly and gracefully, nobody will desire to hear you. I am glad to learn that Abbe Mably's Droit Public de VEurope makes a part of your evening amusements. It is a very useful book, and gives a clear deduction of the affairs of Europe, from the Treaty of Munster to this time. Pray read it with attention, and with the proper maps, always recurring to them for the several countries or towns yielded, taken, or restored. Pere Bongeant's third volume will give you the best idea of the Treaty of Munster, and open to you the several views of the belligerent and contracting parties ; and there never were greater than at that time. The House of Austria, in the war immediately pre- ceding that treaty, intended to make itself absolute in the empire, and to overthrow the rights of the respective states of it. The view of France was, to weaken and dismember the House of Austria to such a degree, as that it should no longer be a counter- balance to that of Bourbon. Sweden wanted possessions upon the continent of Germany, not only to supply the necessities of its own poor and barren country, but likewise to hold the balance in the empire between the House of Austria and the states. The House of Brandenburg wanted to aggrandize itself by pilfering in the fire; changed sides occasionally, and made a good bargain at last, for I think it got, at the peace, nine or ten Bishops secularized. So that we may date from the Treaty of Munster the decline of the House of Austria, the great power of the House of Bourbon, and the aggrandizement of that of Brandenburg; and I am much mistaken if it stops where it is now. Make my compliments to Lord Pulteney, to whom I would have you be not only attentive but useful, by setting him (in case he wants it) a good example of application and temperance. I begin to believe that, as I shall be proud of you, others will be proud too of imitating you. Those expectations of mine seem so well grounded, that my disappointment, and consequently my anger, will be so much the greater if they fail; but, as things stand now, I am most affectionately and tenderly Yours. LORD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTERS. 135 LXXV. LONDON, August 30, O.S. 1748. DKAR BOY, Your reflections upon the conduct of France, from the Treaty of Munster to this time, are very just ; and I am very glad to find by them that you not only read, but that you think and reflect upon what you read. Many great readers load their memories without exercising their judgments, and make lumber- rooms of their heads, instead of furnishing them usefully : facts are heaped upon facts without order or distinction, and may justly be said to compose that Rudis indigestaque moles, Quam dixere chaos.* Go on, then, in the way of reading that you are in ; take nothing for granted upon the bare authority of the author, but weigh and consider in your own mind the probability of the facts and the justness of the reflections. Consult different authors upon the same facts, and form your opinion upon the greater or lesser de- gree of probability arising from the whole, which, in my mind, is the utmost stretch of historical faith : certainty (I fear) not being to be found. When an historian pretends to give you the causes and motives of the events, compare those causes and motives with the characters and interests of the parties concerned, and judge for yourself whether they correspond or not. Con- sider whether you cannot assign others more probable ; and in that examination do not despise some very mean and trifling causes of the actions of great men ; for so various and inconsis- tent is human nature, so strong and so changeable are our pas- sions, so fluctuating are our wills, and so much are our minds influenced by the accidents of our bodies, that every man is more the man of the day than a regular and consequential character. The best have something bad, and something little ; the worst have something good, and sometimes something great ; for I do not believe what Velleius Paterculus (for the sake of saying a pretty thing) says of Scipio, Qui nihil non laudandum aut fecit, aut dixit, aut sensit. As for the reflections of historians, with which they think it necessary to interlard their histories, or at least to conclude their chapters (and which, in the French his- * Adapted from Ovid, Metam. I. 7. 136 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. tories, are always introduced with a tant il est vrai, and in the English, so true it is), do not adopt them implicitly upon the credit of the author, but analyse them yourself, and judge whether they are true or not. But, to return to the politics of France, from which I have digressed : you have certainly made one farther reflection, of an advantage which France has, over and above its abilities in the cabinet, and the skill of its negotiators ; which is (if I may use the expression) its soleness, continuity of riches and power within itself, and the nature of its government. Near twenty millions of people, and the ordinary revenue of above thirteen millions sterling a-year, are at the absolute disposal of the Crown. This is what no other Power in Europe can say ; so that different Powers must now unite to make a balance against France ; which union, though formed upon the principle of their common, in- terest, can never be so intimate as to compose a machine so com- pact and simple as that of one great kingdom, directed by one will, and moved by one interest. The Allied Powers (as we have constantly seen) have, besides the common and declared object of their alliance, some separate and concealed view, to which they often sacrifice the general one ; which makes them, either directly or indirectly, pull different ways. Thus, the design upon Toulon failed, in the year 1 706, only from the secret view of the House of Austria upon Naples ; which made the Court of Vienna, not- withstanding the representations of the other Allies to the con- trary, send to Naples the 12,000 men that would have done the business at Toulon. In this last war, too, the same causes had the same effects : the Queen of Hungary, in secret, thought of nothing but recovering Silesia, and what she had lost in Italy; and therefore never sent half that quota, which she promised and we paid for, into Flanders ; but left that country to the Maritime Powers to defend as they could. The King of Sardinia's real object was Savona, and all the Riviera di Ponente ; for which reason he concurred so lamely in the invasion of Provence : where the Queen of Hungary, likewise, did not send one-third of the force stipulated ; engrossed as she was, by her oblique views upon the plunder of Genoa, and the recovery of Naples. Insomuch that the expedition into Provence, which would have distressed France to the greatest degree, and have caused a great LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 137 detachment from their army in Flanders, failed, shamefully, for want of everything necessary for its success. Suppose, therefore, any four or five Powers, who, all together, shall be equal, or even a little superior, in riches and strength, to that one Power against which they are united ; the advantage will still be greatly on the side of that single Power, because it is but one. The power and riches of Charles V. were, in them- selves, certainly superior to those of Francis I. ; and yet, upon the whole, he was not an overmatch for him. Charles V.'s dominions, great as they were, were scattered and remote from each other ; their constitutions different ; and, wherever he did not reside, disturbances arose : whereas the compactness of France made up the difference in the strength. This obvious reflection convinced me of the absurdity of the Treaty of Hanover, in 1 725, between France and England, to which the Dutch afterwards acceded ; for it was made upon the apprehensions, either real or pretended, that the marriage of Don Carlos with the eldest Arch- duchess, now Queen of Hungary, was settled in the Treaty of Vienna, of the same year, between Spain and the late Emperor, Charles VI. ; which marriage, those consummate politicians said, would revive in Europe the exorbitant power of Charles V. 1 am sure I heartily wish it had ; as, in that case, there had been, what there certainly is not now, one Power in Europe to counter- balance that of France ; and then the Maritime Powers would, in reality, have held the balance of Europe in their hands. Even supposing that the Austrian Power would then have been an over- match for that of France ; which (by the way) is not clear ; the weight of the Maritime Powers, then thrown into the scale of France, would infallibly have made the balance at least even. In which case, too, the moderate efforts of the Maritime Powers, on the side of France, would have been sufficient ; whereas, now, they are obliged to exhaust and beggar themselves, and that too ineffectually, in hopes to support the shattered, beggared, and insufficient House of Austria. This has been a long political dissertation, but I am informed that political subjects are your favourite ones; which I am glad of, considering your destination. You do well to get your materials all ready, before you begin your work. As you buy, and (I am told) read, books of this kind, I will point out two or 138 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. three for your purchase and perusal ; I am not sure that I have not mentioned them before ; but that is no matter, if you have not got them. Memoires pour aervir a VHistoire du 17** Siecle, ia a most useful book for you to recur to, for all the facts and chronology of that century j it is in four volumes octavo, and very correct and exact. If I do not mistake, I have formerly recommended to you, Les Memoires du Cardinal de Retz ; how- ever, if you have not yet read them, pray do, and with the atten- tion they deserve. You will there find the best account of a very interesting period of the minority of Louis XIV. The characters are drawn short, but in a strong and masterly manner; and the political reflections are the only just and practical ones, that I ever saw in print ; they are all well worth your transcrib- ing. Le Commerce des Anciens, par Monsieur Huet,* Eveque d'Avranche, in one little volume octavo, is worth your perusal, as commerce is a very considerable part of political knowledge. I need not, I am sure, suggest to you, when you read the course of Commerce, either of the ancients or of the moderns, to follow it upon your map ; for there is no other way of remembering Geography correctly, than by looking perpetually in the map for the places one reads of, even though one knows before, pretty nearly, where they are. Adieu ! As all the accounts which I receive of you grow better and better, so I grow more and more affectionately youra. LXXVI. LONDON, September 5, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I have received yours, with the inclosed German letter to Mr. Grevenkop, which he assures me is extremely well written, considering the little time that you have applied yourself to th;it language. As you have now got over the most difficult part, pray go on diligently, and make yourself absolutely master of the rest. Whoever does not entirely possess a language will never appear to advantage, or even equal to himself, either in speaking * Peter Daniel Huet was tutor to the Dauphin, and edited sixtj-two volumes of the Latin classics, known as the Delphin editions. Born 1630, died 1721. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 139 or writing it : his ideas are fettered, and seem imperfect or con- fused, if he is not master of all the words and phrases necessary to express them. I therefore desire that you will not fail writing a German letter once every fortnight to Mr. Grevenkop ; which will make the writing of that language familiar to you : and, moreover, when you shall have left Germany and be arrived at Turin, I shall require you to write even to me in German, that you may not forget with ease what you have with difficulty learned. I likewise desire that, while you are in Germany, you will take all opportunities of conversing in German, which is the only way of knowing that or any other language accurately. You will also desire your German master to teach you the proper titles and superscriptions to be used to people of all ranks, which is a point so material in Germany, that I have known many a letter returned unopened because one title in twenty has been omitted in the direction. St. Thomas's day now draws near, when you are to leave Saxony and go to Berlin ; and I take it for granted, that if any- thing is yet wanting to complete your knowledge of the state of that Electorate, you will not fail to procure it before you go away. I do not mean, as you will easily believe, the number of churches, parishes, or towns ; but I mean the constitution, the revenues, the troops, and the trade of that Electorate. A few questions sensibly asked of sensible people will procure you the necessary informations ; which I desire you will enter in your little book. Berlin will be entirely a new scene to you, and I look upon it in a manner as your first step into the great world : take care that step be not a false one, and that you do not stumble at the threshold. You will there be in more company than you have yet been ; manners and attentions will therefore be more neces- sary. Pleasing in company is the only way of being pleased ia it yourself. Sense aud knowledge are the first and necessary foundations for pleasing in company ; but they will by no means do alone, and they will never be perfectly welcome if they are not accompanied with manners and attentions. You will best acquire these by frequenting the companies of people of fashion ; but then you must resolve to acquire them in those companies by proper care and observation ; for I have known people who, though they 140 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. have frequented good company all their lifetime, have done it in so inattentive and unobserving a manner as to be never the better for it, and to remain as disagreeable, as awkward, and as vulgar, as if they had never seen any person of fashion. When you go into good company (by good company is meant the people of the first fashion of the place) observe carefully their turn, their manners, their address, and conform your own to them. But this is not all, neither; go deeper still; observe their characters, and pry, as far as you can, into both their hearts and their heads. Seek for their particular merit, their predominant passion, or their prevailing weakness ; and you will then know what to bait your hook with to catch them. Man is a composi- tion of so many and such various ingredients, that it requires both time and care to analyse him ; for, though we have all the same ingredients in our general composition, as reason, will, passion, and appetites; yet the different proportions and com- binations of them in each individual, produce that infinite variety of characters which in some particular or other distin- guishes every individual from another. Reason ought to direct the whole, but seldom does. And he who addresses himself singly to another man's reason, without endeavouring to engage hia heart in his interest also, is no more likely to succeed, than a man who should apply only to a King's nominal minister and neglect his favourite. I will recommend to your attentive perusal, now you are going into the world, two books, which will let you as much into the characters of men as books can do. I mean Les Reflexions Morales de Monsieur de la Rochefoucault, and Les Caracteres de La Bruyere :* but remember at the same time that I only recom- mend them to you as the best general maps to assist you in your journey, and not as marking out every particular turning and winding that you will meet with. There, your own sagacity and observation must come to their aid. La Rochefoucault is I know blamed, but I think without reason, for deriving all our actions from the source of self-love. For my * John de la Bruyere, born 1644, died 1696 ; employed by Bossuet as tutor to the Duke of Burgundy ; author of " Characters in the Manner of Tiwophrastus" ; these were drawn from real persons, and exposed the pre- vailing follies. See Index. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 141 own part, I see a great deal of truth and no harm at all in that opinion. It is certain that we seek our own happiness in every- thing we do ; and it is as certain that we can only find it in doing well, and in conforming all our actions to the rule of right reason, which is the great law of nature. It is only a mistaken self-love that is a blameable motive, when we take the immediate and indiscriminate gratification of a passion or appetite for real happi- ness. But am I blameable if I do a good action, upon account of the happiness which that honest consciousness will give me ? Surely not. On the contrary, that pleasing consciousness is a proof of my virtue. The reflection which is the most censured in Monsieur de la Rochefoucault's book, as a very ill-natured one, is this : On trouve dans le malheur de son meilleur ami, quelqiie chose qui ne deplait pas. And why not ? Why may I not feel a very tender and real concern for the misfortune of my friend, and yet at the same time feel a pleasing consciousness of having discharged my duty to him, by comforting and assisting him to the utmost of my power in that misfortune? Give me but virtuous actions, and I will not quibble and chicane about the motives. And I will give anybody their choice of these two truths, which amount to the same thing : He who loves himself best is the honestest man ; or, The honestest man loves himself best. The characters of La Bruyere are pictures from the life ; most of them finely drawn, and highly coloured. Furnish your mind with them first ; and when you meet with their likeness, as you will every day, they will strike you the more. You will compare every feature with the original; and both will reciprocally help you to discover the beauties aud the blemishes. As women are a considerable, or at least a pretty numerous part, of company ; and as their suffrages go a great way towards establishing a man's character in the fashionable part of the world (which is of great importance to the fortune and figure he proposes to make in it), it is necessary to please them. I will therefore, upon this subject, let you into certain arcana, that will be very useful for you to know, but which you must, with the utmost care, conceal, and never seem to know. Women, then, are only children of a larger growth;* they have an entertaining * " Men are but children of a larger growth." Dryden, All for Love, IT. 1. 142 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. tattle and sometimes wit; but for solid, reasoning good-sense, I never in my life knew one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentially for four-and- twenty hours together. Some little passion or humour always breaks in upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected or controverted, their age increased, or their supposed understandings depreciated, in- stantly kindles their little passions, and overturns any system of consequential conduct, that in their most reasonable moments they might have been capable of forming. A man of sense only trifles with them, plays with them, humours and flatters them, as he does with a sprightly, forward child ; but he neither consults them about, nor trusts them with, serious matters ; though he often makes them believe that he does both ; which is the thing in the world that they are proud of; for they love mightily to be dabbling in business (which by the way, they always spoil) ; and being justly distrustful, that men in general look upon them in a trifling light, they almost adore that man, who talks more seriously to them, and who seems to consult and trust them ; I say, who seems, for weak men really do, but wise ones only seem to do it. No flattery is either too high or too low for them. They will greedily swallow the highest, and gratefully accept of the lowest; and you may safely flatter any woman, from her understanding down to the exquisite taste of her fan. Women, who are either indisputably beautiful, or indisputably ugly, are best flattered upon the score of their understandings ; but those who are in a state of mediocrity, are best flattered upon their beauty, or at least their graces ; for every woman who is not absolutely ugly, thinks herself handsome ; but, not hearing often that she is so, is the more grateful and the more obliged to the few who tell her so ; whereas a decided and conscious beauty looks upon every tribute paid to her beauty, only as her due ; but wants to shine, and to be considered on the side of her understanding; and a woman who is ugly enough to know that she is so, knows that she has nothing left for it but her understanding, which is consequently (and probably in more senses than one) her weak side. But these are secrets which you must keep inviolably, if you would not, like Orpheus, be torn to pieces by the whole sex ; on the contrary, a man who thinks of living in the great world, must LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 143 be gallant, polite, and attentive to please the women. They have, from the weakness of men, more or less influence in all Courts ; they absolutely stamp every man's character in the beau monde, and make it either current, or cry it down, and stop it in payments. It is, therefore, absolutely necessary to manage, please, and flatter them ; and never to discover the least marks of contempt, which is what they never forgive ; but in this they are not singular, for it is the same with men ; who will much sooner forgive an injustice than an insult. Every man is not ambitious, or covetous, or passionate ; but every man has pride enough in his composition to feel and resent the least slight and contempt. Remember, therefore, most carefully to conceal your contempt, however just, wherever you would not make an im- placable enemy. Men are much more unwilling to have their weaknesses and their imperfections known, than their crimes; and, if you hint to a man that you think him silly, ignorant, or even ill-bred or awkward, he will hate you more, and longer, than if you tell him plainly that you think him a rogue. Never yield to that temptation, which to most young men is very strong, of exposing other people's weaknesses and infirmities, for the sake either of diverting the company, or of showing your own superiority. You may get the laugh on your side by it, for the present ; but you will make enemies by it for ever ; and even those who laugh with you then will, upon reflection, fear, and consequently hate you; besides that, it is ill-natured, and a good heart desires rather to conceal than expose other people's weaknesses or misfortunes. If you have wit, use it to please, and not to hurt : you may shine like the sun in the temperate zones, without scorching. Here it is wished for : under the line it is dreaded. These are some of the hints which my long experience in the great world enables me to give you ; and which, if you attend to them, may prove useful to you in your journey through it. I wish it may be a prosperous one ; at least, I am sure that it must be your own fault if it is not. Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, who, I am very sorry to hear, is not well. I hope by this time he is recovered. Adieu 1 144 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. LXXVII. LONDON, September 13, O.S. 1748. DEAR ROY, I have more than once recommended to you the Memoirs of the Cardinal de Retz, and to attend particularly to the political reflections interspersed in that excellent work. I will now preach a little upon two or three of those texts. In the disturbances at Paris, Monsieur de Beaufort, who was a very popular, though a very weak man, was the Cardinal's tool with the populace. Proud of his popularity, he was always for assembling the people of Paris together, thinking that he made a great figure at the head of them. The Cardinal, who was factious enough, was wise enough, at the same time, to avoid gathering the people together except when there was occasion, and when he had something particular for them to do. However, he could not always check Monsieur de Beaufort, who, having assembled them once very unnecessarily, and without any deter- mined object, they ran riot, would not be kept within bounds by their leaders, and did their cause a great deal of harm ; upon which the Cardinal observes, most judiciously, Que Monsieur de Beaufort ne sgavoit pas, que qui assemble le peuple, I'emeut. It is certain that great numbers of people, met together, animate each other, and will do something, either good or bad, but oftener bad ; and the respective individuals, who were separately very quiet, when met together in numbers, grow tumultuous as a body, and ripe for any mischief that may be pointed out to them by the leaders ; and, if their leaders have no business for them, they will find some for themselves. The demagogues, or leaders of popular factions, should, therefore, be very careful not to assemble the people unnecessarily, and without a settled and well-considered object; besides that, by making those popular assemblies too frequent, they make them likewise too familiar, and consequently, less respected by their enemies. Observe any meetings of people, and you will always find their eagerness and impetuosity rise or fall in proportion to their numbers ; when the numbers are very great, all sense and reason seem to subside, and one sudden phrenzy to seize on all, even the coolest of them. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 145 Another very just observation of the Cardinal's is, That the things which happen in our own times, and which we see our- selves, do not surprise us near so much as the things which we read of in times past, though not in the least more extraordinary; and adds, that he is persuaded that, when Caligula made his horse a Consul, the people of Rome, at that time, were not greatly surprised at it, having necessarily been in some degree prepared for it, by an insensible gradation of extravagancies from the same quarter. This is so true, that we read every day, with astonishment, things which we see every day with- out surprise. We wonder at the intrepidity of a Leonidas, a Codrus, and a Curtius, and are not the least surprised to hear of a sea-captain who has blown up his ship, his crew, and him- self, that they might not fall into the hands of the enemies of his country. I cannot help reading of Porsenna and Regulus with surprise and reverence; and yet I remember that I saw, without either, the execution of Shepherd, a boy of eighteen years old, who intended to shoot the late King, and who would have been pardoned, if he would have expressed the least sorrow for his intended crime; but, on the contrary, he declared that if he was pardoned he would attempt it again, that he thought it a duty which he owed his country, and that he died with pleasure for having endeavoured to perform it.* Reason equals Shepherd to Regulus ; but prejudice, and the recency of the fact, make Shepherd a common malefactor, and Regulus a hero. Examine carefully, and re-consider all your notions of things ; analyse them, and discover their component parts and see if habit and prejudice are not the principal ones ; weigh the matter, upon which you are to form your opinion, in the equal and impartial scales of reason. It is not to be conceived how many people, capable of reasoning if they would, live and die in a thousand errors, from laziness ; they will rather adopt the preju- dices of others, than give themselves the trouble of forming opinions of their own. They say things, at first, because other people have said them, and then they persist in them, because they have said them themselves. * James Shepherd, apprentice to a coachbuilder in Devonshire Street, was executed at Tyburn in March, 1718, on the evidence of a clergyman named Leake, whom he had informed of his intention by letter. VOL. I. L 146 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. The last observation that I shall now mention of the Cardinals' is : That a secret is more easily kept by a good many people than one commonly imagines. By this he means a secret of importance, among people interested in the keeping of it. And it in certain that people of business know the importance of secrecy, and will observe it, where they are concerned in the event. And the Cardinal does not suppose that anybody is silly enough to tell a secret merely from the desire of telling it, to any one that is not some way or other interested in the keeping of it, and concerned in the event. To go and tell any friend, wife, or mistress, any secret with which they have nothing to do, is discovering to them such an unretentive weakness, as must convince them that you will tell it to twenty others, and, conse- quently, that they may reveal it without the risk of being dis- covered. But a secret properly communicated, only to those who are to be concerned in the thing in question, will probably be kept by them, though they should be a good many. Little secrets are commonly told again, but great ones generally kept. Adieu ! LXXVTII. LONDON, September 20, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I wait with impatience for your accurate history of the Cheva- liers Porte Epees, which you promised me in your last, and which I take to be the forerunner of a larger work, that you intend to give the public, containing a general account of all the Religious and Military Orders of Europe. Seriously ; you will do well to have a general notion of all those Orders, ancient and modern ; both as they are frequently the subjects of conversation, and as they are more or less interwoven with the histories of those times. Witness the Teutonic Order, which, as soon as it gained strength, began its unjust depredations in Germany, and ac- quired such considerable possessions there; and the Order of Malta also, which continues to this day its piracies upon the infidels. Besides, one can go into no company in Germany, with- out running against Monsieur le Chevalier, or Monsieur le Gom- mandeur de I'Ordre Teutonique. It is the same in all the other parts of Europe, with regard to the Order of Malta ; where you never LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 147 go into company without meeting two or three Chevaliers or Commandeurs, who talk of their preuves, their langues, their cara- vanes, etc., of all which things I am sure you would not willingly be ignorant. On the other hand, I do not mean that you should have a profound and minute knowledge of these matters, which are of a nature that a general knowledge of them is fully sufficient. I would not recommend to you to read Abb Vertot's History of the Order of Malta, in four quarto volumes j that would be employing a great deal of good time very ill. But I would have you know the foundations, the objects, the insignia, and the short general history of them all. As for the ancient religious military Orders, which were chiefly founded in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, such as Malta, the Teutonic, the Knights Templars, etc., the injustice and the wickedness of those establishments cannot, I am sure, have escaped your observation. Their pious object was, to take away by force other people's property ; and to massacre the proprietors themselves, if they refused to give up that property, and adopt the opinions of these invaders. What right or pretence had these confederated Christians of Europe to the Holy Land ? Let them produce their grant of it in the Bible. Will they say that the Saracens had possessed themselves of it by force ? and that, consequently, they had the same right. Is it lawful then to steal goods, because they were stolen before ? Surely not. The truth is, that the wickedness of many, and the weakness of more, in those ages of ignorance and superstition, concurred to form those flagitious conspiracies against the lives and properties of unoffending people. The Pope sanctified the villainy, and annexed the pardon of sins to the perpetration of it. This gave rise to the Croisadoes,* and carried such swarms of people from Europe to the conquests of the Holy Land. Peter the Hermit, an active and ambitious priest, by his indefatigable pains was the immediate author of the first Croisade. Kings, Princes, all pro- fessions and characters united, from different motives, in this great undertaking, as every sentiment, except true religion and morality, invited to it. The ambitious hoped for kingdoms ; the greedy and the necessitous for plunder ; and some were enthu- siasts enough to hope for salvation, by the destruction of a con- *Croisado, the old form of "Crusade," was still in use. 148 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. siderable number of their fellow-creatures, who had done them no injury. I cannot omit, upon this occasion, telling you that the eastern Emperors at Constantinople (who, as Christians, were obliged at least to seem to favour these expeditions), seeing the immense numbers of the croises, and fearing that the western empire might have some mind to the eastern empire too, if it suc- ceeded against the infidels, as Vappetit vient en mangeant ; these eastern Emperors, very honestly, poisoned the waters where the croises were to pass, and so destroyed infinite numbers of them. The later Orders of knighthood, such as the Garter in Eng- land ; the Elephant in Denmark ; the Golden Fleece in Bur- gundy ; the St. Esprit, St. Michael, St. Louis, and St. Lazare, in France, etc., are of a very different nature and institution. They were either the invitations to, or the rewards of brave actions in fair war ; and are now rather the decorations of the favour of the prince, than the proofs of the merit of the subject. However, they are worth your inquiries to a certain degree ; and conversation will give you frequent opportunities for them. Wherever you are, I would advise you to inquire into the re- spective Orders of that country, and to write down a short account of them. For example ; while you are in Saxony, get an account of I'Aigle Blanc, and of what other Orders there may be, either Polish or Saxon; and, when you shall be at Berlin, inform yourself of the three Orders, VAigle Noir, la Generosite, et le Vrai Merite, which are the only ones that I know of there. But whenever you meet with straggling ribands and stars, as you will with a thousand in Germany, do not fail to inquire what they are, and to take a minute of them in your memorandum- book ; for it is a sort of knowledge that costs little to acquire, and yet is of some use. Young people have frequently an incurious- ness about them, arising either from laziness, or a contempt of the object, which deprives them of several such little parts of knowledge that they afterwards wish they had acquired. If you will put conversation to profit, great knowledge may be gained by it; and is it not better (since it is full as easy) to ourn it upon useful than upon useless subjects ? People always talk best upon what they know most; and it is both pleasing them, and improving one's self, to put them upon that subject. With people of a particular profession, or of a distinguished LOUD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. 149 eminency in any branch of learning, one is not at a loss ; bub with those, whether men or women, who properly constitute what is called the beau monde, one must not choose deep subjects, nor hope to get any knowledge above that of orders, ranks, families, and court anecdotes ; which are therefore the proper (and not altogether useless) subjects of that kind of conversation. Women, especially, are to be talked to, as below men, and above children. If you talk to them too deep, you only confound them, and lose your own labour ; if you talk to them too frivo- lously, they perceive and resent the contempt. The proper tone for them is, what the French call the entregent, and is, in truth, the polite jargon of good company. Thus, if you are a good chymist, you may extract something out of everything. Apropos of the beau monde; I must again and again recom- mend the Graces to you. There is no doing without them in that world ; and to make a good figure in that world is a great step towards making one in the world of business, particularly that part of it for which you are destined. An ungraceful manner of speaking, awkward motions, and a disagreeable address, are great clogs to the ablest man of business ; as the opposite qualifications are of infinite advantage to him. I anx therefore very glad that you learn to dance, since 1 am told there is a very good dancing-master at Leipsig. I would have you dance a minuet very well not so much for the sake of the minuet itself (though that, if danced at all, ought to be danced well), as that it will give you an habitual genteel carriage, and manner of presenting yourself. Since I am upon little things, I must mention another, which, though little enough in itself, yet, as it occurs at least once in every day, deserves some attention : I mean carving. Do you use yourself to carve adroitly and genteelly, without hacking half an hour across a bone, without bespattering the company with the sauce, and without overturning the glasses into your neigh- bours' pockets? These awkwardnesses are extremely disagreeable, and, if often repeated, bring ridicule. They are very easily avoided by a little attention and use. How trifling soever these things may seem, or really be, in themselves, they are no longer BO when above half the world thinks them otherwise ; and, as I would have you omnibus oma- 160 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. turn excellere rebus, I think nothing above or below my pointing out to you, or your excelling in. You have the means of doing it, and time before you to make use of them. Take my word for it, I ask nothing now but what you will, twenty years hence, most heartily wish that you had done. Attention to all these things for the next two or three years will save you infinite trouble and endless regrets hereafter. May you, in the whole course of your life, have no reason for any one just regret ! Adieu ! Your Dresden china is arrived, and I have sent it to your Mamma. LXXIX. LONDON, September 27, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I have received your Latin Lecture upon War, wh,ich, though it is not exactly the same Latin that Caesar, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid spoke, is, however, as good Latin as the erudite Germans speak or write. I have always observed, that the most learned people that is, those who have read the most Latin write the worst ; and this distinguishes the Latin of a gentleman scholar from that of a pedant. A gentleman has, probably, read no other Latin than that of the Augustan age, and therefore can write no other; whereas the pedant has read much more bad Latin than good, and consequently writes so too. He looks upon the best classical books as books for schoolboys, and consequently below him ; but pores over fragments of obscure authors, treasures up the obsolete words which he meets with there, and uses them, upon all occasions, to show his reading, at the expense of his judgment. Plautus is his favourite author, not for the sake of the wit and the vis comica of his comedies, but upon account of the many obsolete words and the cant of low characters, which are to be met with nowhere else. He will rather use olli than illi, optume than optime, and any bad word, rather than any good one, provided he can but prove that, strictly speaking, it is Latin that is, that it was written by a Roman. By this rule, I might now write to you in the language of Chaucer or Spenser, and assert that I wrote English, because it was English in their days ; but I should be a most affected puppy if I did so, and you LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 151 would not understand three words of my letter. All these, and such-like affected peculiarities, are the characteristics of learned coxcombs and pedants, and are carefully avoided by all men of sense. I dipped, accidentally, the other day, into Pitiscus's * preface to his Lexicon, where I found a word that puzzled me, and which I did not remember ever to have met with before ; it is the adverb prqfitcind, which means, in a good hour an expression which, by the superstition of it, appears to be low and vulgar. I looked for it, and at last I found that it is once or twice made use of in Plautus ; upon the strength of which, this learned pedant thrusts it into his preface. Whenever you write Latin, remember that every word or phrase which you make use of, but cannot find in Caesar, Cicero, Livy, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid, is bad, illiberal Latin, though it may have been written by a Roman. I must now say something as to the matter of the lecture; in which, I confess, there is one doctrine laid down that surprises me ; it is this : Quum vero hostis sit lentd citdve morte omnia dira nobis minitans quocunque bellantibus negotium est, parutn sane interfuerit quo modo eum obruere et interficere satagamus si ferociam exuere cunctetur. Ergo veneno quuque uti fas est, etc., whereas I cannot conceive that the use of poison can, upon any account, come within the lawful means of self-defence. Force may, without doubt, be justly repelled by force, but not by treachery and fraud ; for I do not call the stratagems of war, such as ambuscades, masked batteries, false attacks, etc., frauds or treachery ; they are mutually to be expected and guarded against ; but poisoned arrows, poisoned waters, or poison administered to your enemy (which can only be done by treachery), I have always heard, read, and thought to be unlawful and infamous means of defence, be your danger ever so great. f But, si ferociam exuere cunctetur ; must I rather die than poison this enemy ? Yes, certainly, much rather die than do a base or criminal action ; nor can I be sure, beforehand, that this enemy may not, in the last moment, ferociam exuere. But the public lawyers now seem to * Born 1637, died 1727. f The opinion of Lord Chesterfield is entirely conformable to that of all great authorities upon this subject ; such as Grotius, see his Droit de la Giierre, etc., livre iii. ch. iv. sec. 16, ed. Barbeyrac. M. 152 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. me rather to warp the law, in order to authorise, than to check those unlawful proceedings of princes and states, which, by being become common, appear less criminal ; though custom can never alter the nature of good and ill. Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinements of casuists, break into the plain notions of right and wrong, which every man's right reason, and plain common sense, suggest to him. To do as you would be done by, is the plain, sure, and undisputed rule of morality and justice. Stick to that ; and be convinced, that whatever breaks into it, in any degree, however speciously it may be turned, and however puzzling it may be to answer it, is, notwithstanding, false in itself, unjust, and criminal. I do not know a crime in the world which is not, by the casuists among the Jesuits (especially the twenty-four collected, I think, by Escobar*) allowed in some, or many, cases not to be criminal. The princi- ples first laid down by them are often specious, the reasonings plausible, but the conclusion always a lie; for it is contrary to that evident and undeniable rule of justice which I have mentioned above, of not doing to any one what you would not have him do to you. But, however, these refined pieces of casuistry and sophistry, being very convenient and welcome to people's passions and appetites, they gladly accept the indulgence, without desiring to detect the fallacy of the reasoning; and, indeed, many, I might say most, people are not able to do it, which makes the publication of such quibblings and refinements the more pernicious. I am no skilful casuist, nor subtle disputant; and yet I would undertake to justify and qualify the profession of a highwayman, step by step, and so plausibly as to make many ignorant people embrace the pro- fession, as an innocent, if not even a laudable one ; and to puzzle people of some degree of knowledge to answer me point by point. I have seen a book, entitled Quidlibet ex Quolibet, or, the art of making anything out of anything ; which is not so difficult as it would seem, if once one quits certain plain truths, obvious in gross to every understanding, in order to run after the ingenious refinements of warm imaginations and speculative reasonings. Doctor Berkeley, f Bishop of Cloyne, a very worthy, ingenious, * A Spanish Jesuit (1589-1669) wrote " Cases of Conscience," etc. ; his doctrines were opposed by Pascal in the Lettres fyovinciales. t George Berkeley, born 1685, F.T.C.D., 1 707, Bp. of Cloyne, 1 733, died 1 753. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 153 and learned man, has written a book to prove that there is no such thing as matter, and that nothing exists but in idea : that you and I only fancy ourselves eating, drinking, and sleeping; you at Leipsig, and I at London ; that we think we have flesh and blood, legs, arms, etc., but that we are only spirit. His arguments are, strictly speaking, unanswerable ; but yet I am so far from being convinced by them, that I am determined to go on to eat and drink, and walk and ride, in order to keep that matter, which I so mistakenly imagine my body at present to consist of, in as good plight as possible. Common sense (which, in truth, is very uncommon) is the best sense I know of; abide by it; it will counsel you best. Read and hear, for your amusement, in- genious systems, nice questions subtilely agitated, with all the refinements that warm imaginations suggest, but consider them only as exercitations for the mind, and return always to settle with common sense. I stumbled, the other day, at a bookseller's, upon Oomte de Qabalis* in two very little volumes, which I had formerly read. I read it over again, and with fresh astonishment. Most of the extravagancies are taken from the Jewish Rabbins, who broached those wild notions, and delivered them in the unintelligible jargon which the Cabalists and Rosicrucians deal in to this day. Their number is, I believe, much lessened, but there are still some ; and I myself have known two, who studied and firmly believed in that mystical nonsense. What extravagancy is not man capable of entertaining, when once his shackled reason is led in triumph by fancy and prejudice ! The ancient alchymists gave very much in to this stuff, by which they thought they should discover the philosopher's stone; and some of the most celebrated empirics employed it in the pursuit of the universal medicine. Paracelsus, f a bold empiric and wild cabalist, asserted that he had discovered it, and called it his Alkahest. Why, or wherefore, God knows ; only that those madmen call nothing by an intelligible name. You may easily get this book from the Hague ; read it, for it will both divert and astonish you ; and, at the same time, teach you nil admirari ; a very necessary lesson. * By the Abbe de Montfau9on de Yillars, published at Paris in 1670 ; an English translation, entitled, " The Count of Gabalis, or the Extravagant Mysteries of the Cabalists," was published in London, 1680. t Paracelsus was born near Zurich in 1493, and died 1541. 154 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Your letters, except when upon a given subject, are exceedingly laconic, and neither answer my desires, nor the purpose of letters ; which should be familiar conversations between absent friends. As I desire to live with you upon the footing of an intimate friend, and not of a parent, I could wish that your letters gave me more particular accounts of yourself, and of your lesser transactions. When you write to me, suppose yourself conversing freely with me, by the fireside. In that case, you would naturally mention the incidents of the day ; as, where you had been, whom you had seen, what you thought of them, etc. Do this in your letters ; acquaint me sometimes with your studies, sometimes with your diversions ; tell me of any new persons and characters that you meet with in company, and add your own observations upon them ; in short, let me see more of you in your letters. How do you go on with Lord Pulteney ? and how does he go on at Leipsig ? Has he learning, has he parts, has he application ? Is he good or ill-natured ? In short, what is he ? at least, what do you think him ? You may tell me without reserve, for I promise you secrecy. You are now of an age, that I am desirous to begin a confidential correspondence with you; and as I shall, on my part, write you very freely my opinion upon men and things, which I should often be very unwilling that anybody but you and Mr. Harte should see ; so, on your part, if you write to me without reserve, you may depend upon my inviolable secrecy. If you have ever looked into the Letters of Madame de Sevigue to her daughter, Madame de Grignan, you must have observed the ease, freedom, and friendship of that correspondence ; * and yet, I hope and believe, they did not love one another better than we do. Tell me what books you are now reading, either by way of study or amusement; how you pass your evenings when' at home, and where you pass them when abroad. I know that you go sometimes to Madame Valentin's assembly. What do you do there ? do you play or sup ? or is it only la belle conversation ? Do you mind your dancing while your dancing- master is with you? As you will be often under the necessicy of dancing a minuet, I would have you dance it very well. Remember, that the graceful motion of the arms, the giving your hand, and the * See Letter XXXVIII. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. . 155 putting-on and pulling-off your hat genteelly, are the material parts of a gentleman's dancing. But the greatest advantage of dancing well is, that it necessarily teaches you to present yourself, to sit, stand, and walk genteelly ; all which are of real importance to a man of fashion. I should wish that you were polished, before you go to Berlin ; where, as you will be in a great deal of good company, I would have you have the right manners for it. It is a very considerable article to have le ton de la bonne compagnie, in your destination particularly. The principal business of a foreign minister is, to get into the secrets, and to know all les allures of the Courts at which he resides ; this he can never bring about, but by such a pleasing address, such engaging manners, and such an insinuating behaviour, as may make him sought for, and in some measure domestic, in the best company and the best families of the place. He will then, indeed, be well informed of all that passes, either by the confidences made him, or by the carelessness of people in his company ; who are accustomed to look upon him as one of them, and consequently not upon their guard before him. For a minister, who only goes to the Court he resides at in form, to ask an audience of the Prince or the Minister, upon his last instructions, puts them upon their guard, and will never know anything more than what they have a mind that he should know. Here women may be put to some use. A King's mistress, or a Minister's wife or mistress, may give great and useful infor- mations ; and are very apb to do it, being proud to show they have been trusted. But then, in this case, the height of that sort of address which strikes women is requisite; I mean that easy politeness, genteel and graceful address, and that exterieur brillant, which they cannot withstand. There is a sort of men so like women, that they are to be taken just in the same way j I mean those who are commonly called fine men, who swarm at all Courts, who have little reflection and less knowledge, but who, by their good-breeding, and train-tran of the world, are admitted into all companies, and by the imprudence or care- lessness of their superiors pick up secrets worth knowing, which are easily got out of them by proper address. Adieu ! 156 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. LXXX. BATH, October 12, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I came here three days ago, upon account of a disorder in my stomach, which affected my head, and gave me vertigos. I already find myself something better ; and, consequently, do not doubt that a course of these waters will set me quite right. But, however, and wherever I am, your welfare, your character, your knowledge, and your morals, employ my thoughts more than anything that can happen to me, or that I can fear or hope for myself. I am going off the stage, you are coming upon it ; with me, what has been, has been, and reflection now would come too late ; with you, everything is to come, even, in some manner, reflection itself; so that this is the very time when my reflections, the result of experience, may be of use to you, by supplying the want of yours. As soon as you leave Leipsig, you will gradually be going into the great world ; where the first impressions that you shall give of yourself will be of great importance to you ; but those which you shall receive will be decisive, for they always stick. To keep good company, especially at your first setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. If you ask me what I mean by good company, I will confess to you, that it is pretty difficult to define ; but I will endeavour to make you understand it as well as I can. Good company is not what respective sets of company are pleased either to call or think themselves, but it is that company which all the people of the place call and acknowledge to be good company, notwithstanding some objections which they may form to some of the individuals who compose it. It consists chiefly (but, by no means without exception) of people of con- siderable birth, rank, and character ; for people of neither birth nor rank are frequently, and very justly, admitted into it, if dis- tinguished by any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. Nay, so motley a thing is good company, that many people, without birth, rank, or merit, intrude into it by their own forwardness, and others slide into it by the protection of some considerable person ; and some even of indifferent cha- racters and morals make part of it. But, in the main, the good LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 157 part preponderates, and people of infamous and blasted characters are never admitted. In this fashionable good company, the best manners and the best language of the place are most unquestion- ably to be learnt ; for they establish and give the tone to both, which are therefore called the language and manners of good company, there being no legal tribunal to ascertain either. A company consisting wholly of people of the first quality cannot, for that reason, be called good company, in the common acceptation of the phrase, unless they are, into the bargain, the fashionable and accredited company of the place; for people of the very first quality can be as silly, as ill-bred, and as worthless, as people of the meanest degree. On the other hand, a company consisting entirely of people of very low condition, whatever their merit or parts may be, can never be called good company, and consequently should not be much frequented, though by no means despised. A company wholly composed of men of learning, though greatly to be valued and respected, is not meant by the words good company ; they cannot have the easy manners and tournure of the world, as they do not live in it. If you can bear your part well in such a company, it is extremely right to be in it sometimes, and you will be but more esteemed in other companies for having a place in that ; but then do not let it engross you, for, if you do, you will be only considered as one of the literati by profession, which is not the way either to shine or rise in the world. The company of professed wits and poets is extremely inviting to most young men, who, if they have wit themselves, are pleased with it, and, if they have none, are sillily proud of being one of it ; but it should be frequented with moderation and judgment, and you should by no means give yourself up to it. A wit is a very unpopular denomination, as it carries terror along with it ; and people in general are as much afraid of a live wit in company as a woman is of a gun, which she thinks may go off of itself, and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance is, however, worth seeking, and their company worth frequenting; but not ex- clusively of others, nor to such a degree as to be considered only as one of that particular set. But the company which of all others you should most carefully 158 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. avoid, is that low company which, in every sense of the word, is low indeed low in rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low in merit. You will, perhaps, be surprised that I should think it necessary to warn you against such company ; but yet I do not think it wholly unnecessary, after the many instances which I have seen of men of sense and rank, discredited, vilified, and undone, by keeping such company. Vanity, that source of many of our follies, and of some of our crimes, has sunk many a man into company in every light infinitely below himself, for the sake of being the first man in it ; there he dictates, is applauded, admired; and, for the sake of being the Ooryphceus of that wretched chorus, disgraces and disqualifies himself soon for any better company. Depend upon it, you will sink or rise to the level of the company which you commonly keep ; people will judge of you, and not unreasonably, by that. There is good sense in the Spanish saying, " Tell me whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are." Make it therefore your business, wherever you are, to get into that company which everybody of the place allows to be the best company, next to their own : which is the best definition that I can give you of good company. But here, too, one caution is very necessary, for want of which many young men have been ruined, even in good company. Good company (as I have before observed) is composed of a great variety of fashionable people, whose characters and morals are very different, though their manners are pretty much the same. When a young man, new in the world, first gets into that company, he very rightly determines to conform to and imitate it ; but then he too often, and fatally, mistakes the objects of his imitation. He has often heard that absurd term of genteel and fashionable vices. He there sees some people who shine, and who in general are admired and esteemed; and observes that these people are immoral, or drunkards, or gamesters; upon which he adopts their vices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and thinking that they owe their fashion and their lustre to those genteel vices. Whereas it is exactly the reverse, for these people have acquired their reputation by their parts, their learning, their good-breeding, and other real accomplish- ments; and are only blemished and lowered, in the opinions of all reasonable people, and of their own, in time, by these genteel LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 159 and fashionable vices. A roub in a flux, or without a nose, is a very genteel person indeed, and well worthy of imitation; a drunkard, vomiting up at night the wine of the day, and stupi- fied by the headache all the next, is, doubtless, a fine model to copy from; and a gamester, tearing his hair and blaspheming, for having lost more than he had in the world, is surely a most amiable character. No; these are allays,* and great ones too, which can never adorn any character, but will always debase the best. To prove this, suppose any man, without parts and some other good qualities, to be merely immoral, a drunkard, or a gamester how will he be looked upon by all sorts of people ? Why, as a most contemptible and vicious animal. Therefore it is plain that, in these mixed characters, the good part only makes people forgive, but not approve, the bad. I will hope, and believe, that you will have no vices ; but if, unfortunately, you should have any, at least I beg of you to be content with your own, and to adopt no other body's. The adoption of vice has, I am convinced, ruined ten times more young men than natural inclinations. As I make no difficulty of confessing my past errors, where I think the confession may be of use to you, I will own that, when I first went to the university, I drank and smoked, notwith- standing the aversion I had to wine and tobacco, only because I thought it genteel, and that it made me look like a man. When I went abroad, I first went to the Hague, where gaming was much in fashion; and where I observed that many people of shining rank and character gamed too. I was then young enough, and silly enough, to believe that gaming was one of their accomplishments ; and, as I aimed at perfection, I adopted gaming as a necessary step to it. Thus I acquired, by error, the habit of a vice which, far from adorning my character, has, I am conscious, been a great blemish in it. Imitate, then, with discernment and judgment, the real perfec- tions of the good company into which you may get ; copy their politeness, their carriage, their address, and the easy and well- bred turn of their conversation; but remember, that, let them shine ever so bright, their vices, if they have any, are so many spots, wnich you would no more imitate than you would make * Abatements, drawbacks ; obsolete. 160 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTER. an artificial wart upon your face, because some very handsome man had the misfortune to have a natural one upon his ; but, on the contrary, think how much handsomer he would have been without it. Having thus confessed some of my egaremens, I will now show you a little of my right side. I always endeavoured to get into the best company wherever I was, and commonly succeeded. There I pleased, to some degree, by showing a desire to please. I took care never to be absent or distrait ; but, on the contrary, attended to everything that was said, done, or even looked, in company; I never failed in the minutest attentions, and was never journalier. These things, and not my egaremens, made me fashionable. A dieu 1 this letter is full long enough. LXXXI. BATH, October 19, O.S. 1743. DEAR BOY, Having, in my last, pointed out what sort of company yon should keep, I will now give you some rules for your conduct in it; rules which my own experience and observation enable me to lay down and communicate to you with some degree of con- fidence. I have often given you hints of this kind before, but then it has been by snatches ; I will now be more regular and methodical. I shall say nothing with regard to your bodily carriage and address, but leave them to the care of your dancing- master, and to your own attention to the best models ; remember, however, that they are of consequence. Talk often, but never long ; in that case, if you do not please, at least you are sure not to tire your hearers. Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat the whole company ; this being one of the very few cases in which people do not care to be treated, every one being fully convinced that he has wherewithal to pay. Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but where they are very apt, and very short. Omit every circumstance that is not material, and beware of digressions. To have frequent recourse to narrative betrays great want of imagination. Never hold anybody by the button, or the nand, in order to be LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 161 heard out ; for, if people are not willing to hear you, you had much better hold your tongue than them. Most long talkers single out some one unfortunate man in company (commonly him whom they observe to be the most silent, or their next neighbour) to whisper, or at least, in a half voice, to convey a continuity of words to. This is excessively ill-bred, and, in some degree, a fraud ; conversation-stock being a joint and common property. But, on the other hand, if one of these unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, hear him with patience, and at least seeming attention, if he is worth obliging ; for nothing will oblige him more than a patient hearing, as nothing would hurt him more than either to leave him in the midst of his discourse, or to discover your impatience under your affliction. Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are in. If you have parts, you will show them, more or less, upon every subject ; and, if you have not, you had better talk sillily upon a subject of other people's than of your own choosing. Avoid as much as you can, in mixed companies, argumentative polemical conversations; which, though they should not, yet certainly do, indispose, for a time, the contending parties towards each other ; and, if the controversy grows warm and noisy, en- deavour to put an end to it by some genteel levity or joke. I quieted such a conversation hubbub once, by representing to them that, though I was persuaded none there present would repeat, out of company, what passed in it, yet I could not answer for the discretion of the passengers in the street, who must necessarily hear all that was said. Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid speaking of yourself, if it be possible. Such is the natural pride and vanity of our hearts, that it perpetually breaks out, even in people of the best parts, in all the various modes and figures of the egotism. Some abruptly speak advantageously of themselves, without either pretence or provocation. They are impudent. Others proceed more artfully, as they imagine, and forge accusations against themselves, complain of calumnies which they never heard, in order to justify themselves, by exhibiting a catalogue of their many virtues. "They acknowledge it may, indeed, seem VOL. I. M 162 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. odd, that they should talk in that manner of themselves ; it is what they do not like, and what they never would have done ; no, no tortures should ever have forced it from them, if they had not been thus unjustly and monstrously accused. But, in these cases, justice is surely due to one's self, as well as to others ; and, when our character is attacked, we may say, in our own justification, what otherwise we never would have said." This thin veil of modesty drawn before vanity, is much too transparent to conceal it, even from very moderate discernment. Others go more modestly and more slyly still (as they think) to work ; but, in my mind, still more ridiculously. They confess themselves (not without some degree of shame and confusion) into all the cardinal virtues ; by first degrading them into weak- nesses, and then owning their misfortune, in being made up of those weaknesses. "They cannot see people suffer, without sympathizing with, and endeavouring to help them. They cannot see people want, without relieving them ; though, truly, their own circumstances cannot very well afford it. They cannot help speaking truth, though they know all the imprudence of it. In short, they know that, with all these weaknesses, they are not fit to live in the world, much less to thrive in it. But they are now too old to change, and must rub on as well as they can." This sounds too ridiculous and outre, almost for the stage; and yet, take my word for it, you will frequently meet with it upon the common stage of the world. And here I will observe, by the bye, that you will often meet with characters in nature so ex- travagant, that a discreet poet would not venture to set them upon the stage in their true and high colouring. This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in human nature, that it descends even to the lowest objects ; and one often sees people angling for praise, where, admitting all they say to be true (which, by the way, it seldom is), no just praise is to be caught. One man affirms that he has rode post an hundred miles in six hours : probably it is a lie ; but supposing it to be true, what then ? Why, he is a very good post-boy, that is all. Another asserts, and probably not without oaths, that he has drank six or eight bottles of wine at a sitting; out of charity, I will believe him a liar ; for, if I do not, I must think him a beast. Such, and a thousand more, are the follies and extravagancies, LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 163 wbich vanity draws people into, and which always defeat their own purpose, and, as Waller says upon another subject, Make the wretch the most despised, Where most he wishes to be prized.* The only sure way of avoiding these evils is never to speak of yourself at all. But when historically you are obliged to mention yourself, take care not to drop one single word, that can directly or indirectly be construed as fishing for applause. Be your character what it will, it will be known ; and nobody will take it upon your own word. Never imagine that anything you can say yourself will varnish your defects, or add lustre to your perfections ; but, on the contrary, it may, and nine times in ten will, make the former more glaring, and the latter obscure. If yon are silent upon your own subject, neither envy, indignation, nor ridicule will obstruct or allay the applause which you may really deserve ; but if you publish your own panegyric, upon any occasion, or in any shape whatsoever, and however artfully dressed or disguised, they will all conspire against you, and you will be disappointed of the very end you aim at. Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; which is not only a very unamiable character, but a very suspicious one too ; if you seem mysterious with others, they will be really so with you, and you will know nothing. The height of abilities is, to have volto sciolto and pensieri stretti ; f that is, a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with a prudent and reserved interior ; to be upon your own guard, and yet, by a seeming natural openness, to put people off theirs. Depend upon it, nine in ten of every company you are in will avail themselves of every indiscreet and unguarded expression of yours, if they can turn it to their own advantage. A prudent reserve is therefore as necessary as a seeming openness is prudent. Always look people in the face when you speak to them ; the not doing it is thought to imply * These lines are adapted from Waller's " On Love." The couplet is : Postures which render him despised, Where he endeavours to be prized. He quotes the next two lines in letter of 24th May, 1750. f" This is a favourite maxim of Chesterfield's. It was also the advice given by Sir Henry Wotton to Milton, just before he set out for the Continent, in the letter in which he acknowledges Comw. 164 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. conscious guilt ; besides that, you lose the advantage of observ- ing by their countenances what impression your discourse makes upon them. In order to know people's real sentiments, I trust much more to my eyes than to my ears ; for they can say what- ever they have a mind I should hear; but they can seldom help looking what they have no intention that I should know. Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly ; for though the defamation of others may for the present gratify the malignity of the pride of our hearts, cool reflection will draw very dis- advantageous conclusions from such a disposition; and in the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, the receiver is always thought as bad as the thief. Mimicry, which is the common and favourite amusement of little low minds, is in the utmost contempt with great ones. It is the lowest and most illiberal of all buffoonery. Pray, neither practise it yourself, nor applaud it in others. Besides that, the person mimicked is insulted ; and, as I have often observed to you before, an insult is never forgiven. I need not, I believe, advise you to adapt your conversation to the people you are conversing with ; for I suppose you would not, without this caution, have talked upon the same sub- ject and in the same manner to a Minister of state, a Bishop, a philosopher, a Captain, and a woman. A man of the world must, like the carneleon, be able to take every different hue, which is by no means a criminal or abject, but a necessary complaisance, for it relates only to manners, and not to morals. One word only as to swearing ; and that I hope and believe is more than is necessary. You may sometimes hear some people in go<>d company interlard their discourse with oaths, by way of embellishment, as they think; but you must observe, too, that those who do so are never those who contribute in any degree to give that company the denomination of good company. They are always subalterns, or people of low education; for that prac- tice, besides that it has no one temptation to plead, is as silly and as illiberal as it is wicked. Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are only pleased with silly things; for true wit or good sense never excited a laugh since the creation of the world. A man of parts and fashion is therefore only seen to smile, but never heard to laugh. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 165 But, to conclude this long letter; all the above-mentioned rules, however carefully you may observe them, will lose half their effect if unaccompanied by the Graces. Whatever you say, if you say it with a supercilious, cynical face, or an embarrassed countenance, or a silly, disconcerted grin, will be ill received. If, into the bargain, you mutter it, or utter it indistinctly and un- gracefully, it will be still worse received. If your air and address are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, you may be esteemed indeed if you have great intrinsic merit ; but you will never please, and without pleasing you will rise but heavily. Venus, among the ancients, was synonymous with the Graces, who were always supposed to accompany her: and Horace tells us, that even youth, and Mercury, the god of arts and eloquence, would not do without her. Parum, comis sine te Juventas Mercuriusque.* They are not inexorable ladies, and may be had if properly and diligently pursued. Adieu ! LXXXII. BATH, October 29, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, My anxiety for your success increases in proportion as the time approaches of your taking your part upon the great stage of the world. The audience will form their opinion of you upon your first appearance (making the proper allowance for your in- experience), and so far it will be final, that, though it may vary as to the degrees, it will never totally change. This consideration excites that restless attention with which I am constantly ex- amining how I can best contribute to the perfection of that character in which the least spot or blemish would give me more real concern than I am now capable of feeling upon any other account whatsoever. I have long since done mentioning your great religious and moral duties, because I could not make your understanding so bad a compliment, as to suppose that you wanted or could receive any new instructions upon those two important points. Mr. Harte, I am sure, has not neglected them ; besides, they are * Odes, I. 30. 166 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. so obvious to common sense and reason, that commentators may (as they often do) perplex, but cannot make them clearer. My province, therefore, is to supply by my experience your hitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of the world. People at your age are in a state of natural ebriety, and want rails and gardefous wherever they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. This drunkenness of youth is not only tolerated, but even pleases, if kept within certain bounds of discretion and decency. Those bounds are the point which it is difficult for the drunken man himself to find out ; and there it is that the experience of a friend may not only serve, but save him. Carry with you, and welcome, into company all the gaiety and spirits, but as little of the giddiness of youth as you can. The former will charm, but the latter will often, though innocently, implacably offend. Inform yourself of the characters and situa- tions of the company before yon give way to what your imagina- tion may prompt you to say. There are in all companies more wrong heads than right ones, and many more who deserve than who like censure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praise of some virtue, which some in company notoriously want, or declaim against any vice which others are notoriously infected with, your reflections, however general and unapplied, will, by being ap- plicable, be thought personal and levelled at those people. This consideration points out to you sufficiently not to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor to suppose that things, because they may, are therefore meant at you. The manners of well-bred people secure one from those indirect and mean attacks j but if, by chance, a flippant woman or a pert coxcomb lets off anything of that kind, it is much better not to seem to understand, than to reply to it. Cautiously avoid talking of either your own or other people's domestic affairs. Yours are nothing to them, but tedious ; theirs are nothing to you. The subject is a tender one ; and it is odds but you touch somebody or other's sore place ; for in this case there is no trusting to specious appearances, which may be, and often are, so contrary to the real situations of things between men and their wives, parents and their children, seeming friends, etc., that, with the best intentions in the world, one often blunders disagreeably. LOED CHESTEEFIBLD'S LETTERS. 167 Remember, that the wit, humour, and jokes of most mixed companies are local. They thrive in that particular soil, but will not often bear transplanting. Every company is differently circumstanced, has its particular cant and jargon, which may give occasion to wit and mirth within that circle, but would seem flat and insipid in any other, and therefore will not bear repeat- ing. Nothing makes a man look sillier than a pleasantry not relished or not understood ; and if he meets with a profound silence when he expected a general applause, or, what is worse, if he is desired to explain the bon mot, his awkward and embar- rassed situation is easier imagined than described. A propos of repeating ; take great care never to repeat (I do not mean here the pleasantries) in one company what you hear in another. Things seemingly indifferent, may, by circulation, have much graver consequences than you would imagine. Besides, there is a general tacit trust in conversation by which a man is obliged not to report anything out of it, though he is not immediately enjoined secrecy. A retailer of this kind is sure to draw himself into a thousand scrapes and discussions, and to be shyly and uncomfortably received wherever he goes. You will find, in most good company, some people who only keep their place there by a contemptible title enough, these are what we call very good-natured fellows, and the French bons diables. The truth is, they are people without any parts or fancy, and who, having no will of their own, readily assent to, concur in, and applaud whatever is said or done in the company ; and adopt, with the same alacrity, the most virtuous or the most criminal, the wisest or the silliest scheme, that happens to be entertained by the majority of the company. This foolish, and often criminal complaisance, flows from a foolish cause, the want of any other merit. I hope you will hold your place in company by a nobler tenure, and that you will hold it (you can bear a quibble, I believe, yet) in capite. Have a will and an opinion of your own, and adhere to them steadily ; but then do it with good-humour, good-breeding, and (if you have it) with urbanity ; for you have not yet beard enough either to preach or censure. All other kinds of complaisance are not only blameless, but necessary in good company. Not to seem to perceive the little 168 LOBD CHESTEEFIELD'S LBTTEKS. weaknesses, and the idle but innocent affectations of the company, but even to flatter them in a certain manner, is not only very allowable, but, in truth, a sort of polite duty. They will be pleased with you, if you do ; and will certainly not be reformed by you, if you do not. For instance; you will find, in every groupe of company, two principal figures, viz. the fine lady and the fine gentleman; who absolutely give the law of wit, language, fashion, and taste, to the rest of that society. There is always a strict, and often, for the time being, a tender alliance between these two figures. The lady looks upon her empire as founded upon the divine right of beauty (and full as good a divine right it is, as any King, Emperor, or Pope can pretend to) ; she requires, and commonly meets with, unlimited passive obedience. And why should she not meet with it ? Her demands go no higher than to have her unquestioned pre-eminence in beauty, wit, and fashion, firmly established. Few Sovereigns (by the way) are so reasonable. The fine gentleman's claims of right are, mutatis mutandis, the same ; and though, indeed, he is not always a wit de jure, yet, as he is the wit de facto of that company, he is entitled to a share of your allegiance ; and everybody expects, at least, as much as they are entitled to, if not something more. Prudence bids you make your court to these joint Sovereigns ; and no duty, that I know of, forbids it. Rebellion, here, is exceedingly dangerous, and inevitably punished by banishment, and immediate forfeiture of all your wit, manners, taste, and fashion ; as, on the other hand, a cheerful submission, not without some flattery, is sure to procure you a strong recommendation, and most effectual pass, through- out all their, and probably the neighbouring dominions. With a moderate share of sagacity, you will, before you have been half an hour in their company, easily discover these two principal figures ; both by the deference which you will observe the whole company pay them, and by that easy, careless, and serene air, which their consciousness of power gives them. As in this case, so in all others, aim always at the highest ; get always into the highest company, and address yourself particularly to the highest in it. The search after the unattainable philosopher's stone has occasioned a thousand useful discoveries, which otherwise would never have been made. LOBD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTEHS. 169 What the French justly call les manieres nobles, are only to be acquired in the very best companies. They are the dis- tinguishing characteristics of men of fashion ; people of low education never wear them so close but that some part or other of the original vulgarism appears. Les manieres nobles equally forbid insolent contempt, or low envy and jealousy. Low people in good circumstances, fine clothes, and equipages, will insolently show contempt for all those who cannot afford as fine clothes, as good an equipage, and who have not (as their term is) as much money in their pockets ; on the other hand, they are gnawed with envy, and cannot help discovering it, of those who surpass them in any of these articles, which are far from being sure criterions of merit. They are likewise jealous of being slighted, and, consequently, suspicious and captious ; they are eager and hot about trifles, because trifles were, at first, their affairs of consequence. Les manieres nobles imply exactly the reverse of all this. Study them early ; you cannot make them too habitual and familiar to you. Just as I had written what goes before, I received your letter of the 24th, N.S., but I have not received that which you men- tion from Mr. Harte. Yours is of the kind that I desire, for I want to see your private picture drawn by yourself at different sittings ; for though, as it is drawn by yourself, I presume you will take the most advantageous likeness, yet I think I have skill enough in that kind of painting to discover the true features, though ever so artfully coloured or thrown into skilful lights and shades. By your account of the German play, which I do not know whether I should call tragedy or comedy, the only shining part of it (since I am in a way of quibbling) seems to have been the Fox's tail. I presume, too, that the play has had the same fate with the squib, and has gone off no more. I remember a squib much better applied, when it was made the device of the colours of a French regiment of grenadiers ; it was represented bursting with this motto under it, Peream dum luceam. I like the description of your picnic, where I take it for granted that your cards are only to break the formality of a circle, and your symposion intended more to promote conversation than drinking. Such an amicable collision, as Lord Shaftesbury 170 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. very prettily calls it, rubs off and smooths those rough corners which mere nature has given to the smoothest of us. I hope some part, at least, of the conversation is in German. A propos; tell me, do you speak that language correctly, and do you write it with ease ? I have no doubt of your mastering the other modern languages, which are much easier, and occur much oftener ; for which reason I desire you will apply most diligently to German while you are in Germany, that you may speak and write that language most correctly. I expect to meet Mr. Eliot in London in about three weeks ; after which you will soon see him at Leipsig. Adieu ! LXXXIIL LONDON, November 18, O.S. 1748. DEAR Bor, Whatever I see or whatever I hear, my first consideration is, whether it can in any way be useful to you. As a proof of this, I went accidentally the other day into a print-shop, where, among many others, I found one print from a famous design of Carlo Maratti, who died about thirty years ago,* and was the last eminent painter in Europe ; the subject is il Studio del Disegno, or the School of Drawing. An old man, supposed to be the master, points to his scholars, who are variously employed, in perspective, geometry, and the observation of the statues of antiquity. With regard to perspective, of which there are some little specimens, he has wrote, tanto che basti, that is, as much ^ is sufficient ; with regard to geometry, tanto che basti, again ; with regard to the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is written, non mai a bastanza, there never can br enough. But, ia the clouds, at top of the piece, are represented the three Graces, with this just sentence written over them, senza di n i gnl fatica e vana; that is, without us all labour is vain. This everybody allows to be true iti paiuting ; but all people do not seem to consider, as I hope you will, that this truth is full as applicable to every other art or science ; indeed to everything that is to be said or done. I will send you the print itself by Mr. Eliot, when he returns ; and I will advise you to make the *' Maratti was born at Caraerino in Italy in 1625, and died in 1713. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 171 same use of it that the Roman Catholics say they do of the pic- tures and images of their Saints, which is, only to remind them of those, for the adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will go farther, and, as the transition from popery to paganism is short and easy, I will classically and poetically advise you to invoke and sacrifice to them every day and all the day. It must be owned that the Graces do not seem to be natives of Great Britain ; and, I doubt, the best of us here have more of the rough than the polished diamond. Since barbarism drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to have taken refuge in France, where their temples are numerous, and their worship the established one. Examine yourself seriously why such and such people please and eiigage you more than such and such others of equal merit, and you will always find that it is because the former have the Graces and the latter not. I have known many a woman, with an exact shape and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful fea- tures, please nobody ; while others, with very moderate shapes and features, have cbarmed everybody. Why ? Because Venus will not charm so much without her attendant Graces as they will without her. Among men, how often have 1 seen the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwelcome, or even re- jected, for want of them ! While flimsy parts, little knowledge, and less merit, introduced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, and admired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms if unaccompanied by them. If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither you nor I can define or ascertain, I can only answer, by observation. Form yourself, with regard to others, upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell you the importance the advantage of having the Graces ; but I cannot give them you ; I heartily wish I could, and I certainly would ; for I do not know a better present that I could make you. To show you that a very wise, philosophical, and retired man thinks upon that subject as I do, who have always lived in the world, I send you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr. Locke's book upon education, in which you will find the stress that he lays upon the Graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. I have marked all the parts of that book which are worth your attention ; for, as he begins with the child, almost from its birth, 172 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. the parts relative to its iufancy would be useless to you. Ger- many is still less than England the seat of the Graces ; however, you had as good not say so while you are there. But the place which you are going to in a great degree is ; for I have known as many well-bred, pretty men come from Turin as from any part of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great pains to form such of his subjects as were of any consideration both to business and manners. The present King, I am told, follows his example ; this, however, is certain, that in all Courts and Congresses where there are various foreiga ministers, those of the King of Sardinia are generally the ablest, the politest, and les plus delies. You will, therefore, at Turin, have very good models to form yourself upon ; and remember, that with regard to the best models, as well as to the antique Greek statues in the print, non mai a bastanza. Observe every word, look, and motion of those who are allowed to be the most accomplished persons there. Observe their natural and careless, but genteel air; their unembarrassed good-breeding ; their unassuming, but yet unprostituted dignity. Mind their decent mirth, their dis- creet frankness, and that entregent, which, as much above the frivolous as below the important and the secret, is the proper medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will observe, by the bye, that the talent of that light entregent is often of great use to a foreign minister j not only as it helps him to domesticate himself in many families, but also as it enables him to put by and parry some subjects of conversation which might possibly lay him under difficulties both what to say and how to look. Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremely well), the late Duke of Marlborough * possessed the Graces in the highest degree, not to say engrossed them ; and, indeed, he got the most by them, for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who always assign deep causes for great events) to ascribe the better half of the Duke of Marlborough's greatness and riches to those Graces. He was eminently illiterate ; wrote bad English, and spelled it still worse. He had no share of what is commonly called parts ; that is, he had no brightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent good plain understanding, with sound Died 1722. LORD CHESTERFIELD 'S LETTERS. 173 judgment. But these alone would probably have raised him but something higher than they found him, which was page to King James the Second's Queen. There the Graces protected and promoted him ; for, while he was an Ensign of the Guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, then favourite mistress to King Charles the Second, struck by those very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds, with which he immediately bought an annuity for his life, of five hundred pounds a-year, of my grandfather, Halifax,* which was the foundation of his subsequent fortune. His figure was beautiful, but his manner was irresistible, by either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled, during all his war, to connect the various and jarring powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of the war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, and wrongheadednesses. Whatever Court he went to (and he was often obliged to go himself to some restyf and refractory ones), he as constantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The Pensionary Heinsius, a venerable old minister, grown grey in business, and who had governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic feels to this day. He was always cool, and nobody ever observed the least variation in his countenance ; he could refuse more gracefully than other people could grant ; and those who went away from him the most dissatisfied as to the substance of their business, were yet personally charmed with him, and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all his gentleness and gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of his situation, nor maintained his dignity better. With the share of knowledge which you have already gotten, and with the much greater which I hope you will soon acquire, what may you not expect to arrive at, if you join all these Graces to it ! In your destination particularly, they are, in truth, half your business ; for if you can once gain the affections, as well as the esteem, of the Prince or Minister of the Court to which you are * George Savile, the celebrated Marquis of Halifax, born 1630, died 1695 ; he contributed to the restoration of Charles II., and tendered the Crown to William and Mary. f Eesty, hard to move ; it occurs in Milton's prose. 174 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. sent, I will answer for it that will effectually do the business of the Court that sent you ; otherwise it is up-hill work. Do not mistake, and think that these Graces, which I so often and so earnestly recommend to you, should only accompany important transactions, and be worn only les jours de gala ; no, they should, if possible, accompany every the least thing that you do or say ; for, if you neglect them in little things, they will leave you in great ones. I should, for instance, be extremely concerned to see you even drink a cup of coffee ungracefully, and slop yourself with it, by your awkward manner of holding it ; nor should I like to see your coat buttoned, or your shoes buckled awry. But I should be outrageous if I heard you mutter your words unin- telligibly, stammer in your speech, or hesitate, misplace, and mistake in your narrations : and I should run away from you with greater rapidity, if possible, than I should now run to em- brace you, if I found you destitute of all those Graces, which I have set my heart upon their making you one day, omnibus ornatum excellere rebus. This subject is inexhaustible, as it extends to everything that is to be said or done ; but I will leave it for the present, as this letter is already pretty long. Such is my desire, my anxiety for your perfection, that I never think I have said enough, though you may possibly think I have said too much ; and though, in truth, if your own good sense is not sufficient to direct you in many of these plain points, all that I or anybody else can say will be insufficient. But where you are concerned, I am the insatiable man in Horace, who covets still a little corner more, to complete the figure of his field. I dread every little corner that may deform mine, in which I would have (if possible) no one defect. I this moment receive yours of the 17th, N.S., and cannot condole with you upon the secession of your German Oommen- saux ; who, both by your and Mr. Harte's description, seem to be des gens d'une aimable absence ; and, if you can replace them by any other German conversation, you will be a gainer by the bargain. I cannot conceive, if you understand German well enough to read any German book, how the writing of the German character can be so difficult and tedious to you, the twenty-four letters being very soon learned j and 1 do not expect that you LOBD CHESTKBFIELD'S LETTERS. 175 should write yet with the utmost purity and correctness, as to the language ; what I meant by your writing once a fortnight to Grevenkop, was only to make the written character familiar to you. However, I will be content with one in three weeks or so. I believe you are not likely to see Mr. Eliot again soon, he being still in Cornwall with his father, who, I hear, is not likely to recover. Adieu ! LXXXIV. LONDON, November 29, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, 1 delayed writing to you till I could give yon some account of the motions of your friend, Mr. Eliot, for whom I know you have, and very justly, the most friendly concern. His father and he came to town together in a post-chaise, a fortnight ago, the rest of the family remaining in Cornwall. His father with difficulty survived the journey, and died last Saturday was seven- night. Both concern and decency confined your friend till two days ago, when I saw him ; he has determined, and I think very prudently, to go abroad again, but how soon it is yet impossible for him to know, as he must necessarily put his own private affairs in some order first ; but I conjecture he may possibly join you at Turin ; sooner, to be snrej not. I am very sorry that you are likely to be so long without the company and the example of so valuable a friend ; and, therefore, I hope that you will make it up to yourself, as well as you can at this distance, by remem- bering and following his example. Imitate that application of his, which has made him know all thoroughly, and to the bottom. He does not content himself with the surface of knowledge ; but works in the mine for it, knowing that it lies deep. Pope says, very truly, in his Essay upon Criticism, A little learning is a dangerous thing ; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring. I shall send you by a ship that goes to Hamburgh next week (and by which Hawkins sends Mr. Harte some things that he wrote for) all those which I proposed sending you by Mr. Eliot, together with a very little box, that I am desired to forward 176 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. to Mr. Harte. There will be, likewise, two letters of recom- mendation for you to Monsieur Andrie and Comte Algarotti,* at Berlin, which you will take care to deliver to them, as soon as you shall be rigged and fitted out to appear there. They will introduce you into the best company, and I depend upon your own good sense for your avoiding of bad. If you fall into bad and low company there, or anywhere else, you will be irre- coverably lost ; whereas, if you keep good company, and com- pany above yourself, your character and your fortune will be immovably fixed. I have not time to-day, upon account of the meeting of the Parliament, to make this letter of the usual length; and, indeed, after the volumes that I have written to you, all I can add must be unnecessary. However, I shall probably, ex abundant!, return soon to my former prolixity, and you will receive more and more last words from Yours. LXXXV. LONDON, December 6, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I am at present under very great concern for the loss of a most affectionate brother, with whom I had always lived in the closest friendship. My brother John died last Friday night, of a fit of the gout, which he had had for about a month in his hands and feet, and which fell at last upon his stomach and head. As he grew towards the last lethargic, his end was not painful to him- self. At the distance which you are from hence, you need not go into mourning upon this occasion, as the time of your mourning would be near over before you could put it on. By a ship which sails this week for Hamburgh, I shall send you those things which I proposed to have sent you by Mr. * Francesco Algarotti was born at Venice in 1712. In 1737 he published at Paris a popular sketch of the Newtonian system, entitled Newtonian- ismo per le Dame. Frederick the Great invited him to Berlin, and con- ferred on him the title of Count and the office of Chamberlain. He dedicated a work on the Opera to William Pitt ; and wrote a letter to Grav complimenting him on his Odes, to which Gray replied September 9, 1763. He died at Pisa in 1764. His epitaph, written by himself, is "HIC JACET FK. ALGAROTTUS, NON OMNIS." LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. 177 Eliot viz., a little box from your Mamma, a less box for Mr. Harte, Mr. Locke's book npon education, the print of Carlo Maratti (which I mentioned to you some time ago), and two letters of recommendation, one to Monsieur Andrie, and the other to Comte Algarotti, at Berlin. Both those gentlemen will, I am sure, be as willing as they are able to introduce into the best company, and I hope you will not (as many of your country- men are apt to do) decline it. It is in the best companies only that you can learn the best manners, and that tournure and those Graces which I have so often recommended to you, as the neces- sary means of making a figure in the world. I am most extremely pleased with the account which Mr. Harte gives me of your progress in Greek, and of your having read Hesiod, almost critically. Upon this subject I suggest but one thing to you, of many that I might suggest, which is, that you have now got over the difficulties of that language, and therefore it would be unpardonable not to persevere to your journey's end, now that all the rest of your way is down-hill. I am also very well pleased to hear that you have such a knowledge of, and taste for, curious books, and scarce and valu- able tracts. This is a kind of knowledge which very well becomes a man of sound and solid learning, but which only exposes a man of slight and superficial reading ; therefore, pray make the substance and matter of such books your first object, and their title-pages, indexes, letter, and binding, but your second. It is the characteristic of a man of parts and good judgment to know, and give, that degree of attention that each object deserves; whereas little minds mistake little objects for great ones, and lavish away upon the former that time and atten- tion which only the latter deserve. To such mistakes we owe the numerous and frivolous tribe of insect-mongers, shell-mon- gers, and pursuers and driers of butterflies, etc. The strong mind distinguishes not only between the useful and the useless, but likewise between the useful and the cu- rious. He applies himself intensely to the former ; he only amuses himself with the latter. Of this little sort of knowledge which I have just hinted at, you will find at least as much as yon need wish to know, in a superficial but pretty French book entitled Spectacle de la Nature, which will amuse you while VOL. I. N 178 LORD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTERS. you read it, aud give you a sufficient notion of the various parts of nature. I would advise you to read it at leisure hours ; but that part of nature which Mr. Harte tells me you have begun to study, with the Rector magnificus, is of much greater importance, and deserves much more attention I mean Astronomy. The vast and immense planetary system, the astonishing order and regularity of those innumerable worlds, will open a scene to you which not only deserves you attention as a matter of curiosity, or rather astonishment, but still more, as it will give you greater, and consequently juster, ideas of that eternal and omnipotent Being, who contrived, made, and still preserves that universe, than all the contemplation of this comparatively very little orb which we at present inhabit could possibly give you. Upon this subject, Monsieur Fontenelle's Pluralite des Mondes* which you may read in two hours' time, will both inform and please you. God bless you ! Yours. LXXXVI. LONDON, December 13, O.S. 1748. DEAE Boy, The last four posts have brought me no letters, either from you or from Mr. Harte, at which I am uneasy, not as a mamma would be, but as a father should be ; for I do not want your letters as bills of health : you are young, strong, and healthy, and I am, consequently, in no pain about that. Moreover, were either you or Mr. Harte ill, the other would doubtless write me word of it. My impatience for yours or Mr. Harte's letters arises from a very different cause, which is, my desire to hear frequently of the state and progress of your mind. You are now at that critical period of life, when every week ought to produce fruit or flowers answerable to your culture, which I am sure has not been neglected ; and it is by your letters, and Mr. Harte's accounts of you, that, at this distance, I can only judge of your gradations to maturity. I desire, therefore, that one of you two will not fail to write to me once a week. The sameness of your present way of life, I easily conceive, would not make out a very interesting letter to an indifferent bystander; but, so deeply * See Letter CLIL, of 24 December, 1750. LORD CHESTESFIELD'S LETTERS. 179 concerned as I am in the game you are playing, every the least move is to me of importance, and helps me to judge of the final event. As you will be leaving Leipsig pretty soon after you shall have received this letter, I here send you one inclosed, to deliver to Mr. Mascow. It is to thank him for his attention and civility to you during your stay with him ; and I take it for granted that you will not fail making him the proper compliments at parting ; for the good name that we leave behind at one place, often gets before us to another, and is of great use. As Mr. Maacow is much known and esteemed in the republic of letters, I think it would be of advantage to you if you got letters of recommenda- tion from him to some of the learned men at Berlin. Those testimonials give a lustre which is not to be despised ; for the most ignorant are forced to seem, at least, to pay a regard to learning, as the most wicked are to virtue. Such is their in- trinsic worth ! Your friend Dnval dined with me the other day, and complained most grievously that he had not heard from you of above a year : I bade him abuse you for it himself, and advised him to do it in verse, which, if he was really angry, his indignation would enable him to do.* He accordingly brought me, yesterday, the enclosed reproaches and challenge, which he desired me to transmit to you. As this is his first essay in English poetry, the inaccuracies in the rhymes and the numbers are very excusable. He insists, as you will find, upon being answered in verse, which I should imagine that you and Mr. Harte together could bring about ; as the late Lady Dorchester f used to say, that she and Dr. Radcliffe together could cure a fever. This is, however, sure, that it now rests upon you ; and no man can say what methods Duval may take, if you decline his challenge. I am sensible that you are under some disadvantages in this proffered combat. Your climate, at this time of the year especially, delights more in the wood fire than in the poetic fire ; and I conceive the Muses (if there are any at Leipsig) to be rather shivering than singing. * An allusion to the line of Juvenal : Si natura negat,fanit indignatio verswm. f Catherine Sedley, mistress to King James the Second, and by him created Countess of Dorchester. M. 180 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Nay, I question whether Apollo is even known there as God of Verse, or as God of Light ; perhaps a little as God of Physic. These will be lair excuses if your performance should fall some- thing short, though. I do not apprehend it will. While you have been at Leipsig, (which is a place of study more than of pleasure or company,) you have had all opportun- ities of pursuing your studies uninterruptedly, and have had, I believe, very few temptations to the contrary. But the case will be quite different at Berlin, where the splendour and dissipation of a Court, and the beau monde, will present themselves to you in gaudy shapes, attractive enough to all young people. Do not think, now, that, like an old fellow, I am going to advise you to reject them, and shut yourself up in your closet : quite the con- trary. I advise you to take your share, and enter into them with spirit and pleasure ; but then I advise you, too, to allot your time so prudently, as that learning may keep pace with pleasures there is full time in the course of the day for both, if you do but manage that time right, and like a good economist. The whole morning, if diligently and attentively devoted to solid studies, will go a great way at the year's end ; and the evening, spent in the pleasures of good company, will go as far iii teaching you a knowledge not much less necessary than the other, I mean the knowledge of the world. Between these two necessary studies, that of books in the morning, and that of the world in the evening, you see that you will not have one minute to squander or slattern away. Nobody ever lent themselves more than I did, when I was young, to the pleasures and dissipation of good company : I even did it too much. But then I can assure you that I always found time for serious studies ; and, when I could find it no other way, I took it out of my sleep ; for I resolved always to rise early in the morning, however late I went to bed at night : and this resolution I have kept so sacred, that, unless when I have been confined to my bed by illness, I have not, for more than forty years, ever been in bed at nine o'clock in the morning, but commonly up before eight. When you are at Berlin, remember to speak German as often as you can in company : for everybody there will speak French to you, unless you let them know than you can speak German, which then they will choose to speak. Adieu ! LOSD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. 181 LXXXVII. LONDON, December 20, O.S. 1748. DEAR BOY, I received, last Saturday, by three mails which came in at once, two letters from Mr. Harte, and yours of the 8th, N.S. It was I who mistook your meaning with regard to your Ger- man letters, and not you who expressed it ill. I thought it was the writing of the German character that took up so much of your time, and therefore I advised you, by the frequent writing of that character, to make it easy and familiar to you. But, since it is only the propriety and purity of the German language, which make your writing it so tedious and laborious, I will tell you I shall not be nice upon that article ; and did not expect you should yet be master of all the idioms, delicacies, and peculiarities of that difficult language. That can only come by use, especially frequent speaking ; therefore, when you shall be at Berlin, and afterwards at Turin, where you will meet many Germans, pray take all opportunities of conversing in German, in order not only to keep what you have got of that language, but likewise to im- prove and perfect yourself in it. As to the characters, you form them very well, and, as you yourself own, better than your English ones ; but then, let me ask you this question Why do you not form your Roman characters better ? for I maintain, that it is in eveiy man's power to write what hand he pleases j and, consequently, that he ought to write a good one. You form, particularly, your ee and your II, in zig-zag, instead of making them straight, a fault very easily mended. You will not, I believe, be angry with this little criticism, when I tell you, that by all the accounts I have had of late, from Mr. Harte and others, this is the only criticism that you give me occasion to make. Mr. Harte' s last letter, of the 14th, N.S., particularly, makes me extremely happy, by assuring me, that in every respect you do exceedingly well. I am not afraid by what I now say of making you too vain ; because I do not think that a just consciousness, and an honest pride of doing well, can be called vanity ; for vanity is either the silly affectation of good qualities which one has not, or the sillier pride of what does not deserve commendation in itself. By Mr. Harte's account, you are 182 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTKBS. got very near the goal of Greek and Latin ; and therefore I can- not suppose that, as your sense increases, your endeavours and your speed will slacken, in finishing the small remains of your course. Consider what lustre and eclat it will give you when you return here, to be allowed to be the best scholar of a gentle- man in England ; not to mention the real pleasure and solid comfort which such knowledge will give you throughout your whole life. Mr. Harte tells me another thing, which, I own, I did not expect j it is, that when you read aloud, or repeat parts of plays, you speak very properly and distinctly. This relieves me from great uneasiness, which I was under upon account of your former bad enunciation. Go on, and attend most diligently to this important article. It is, of all the Graces (and they are all necessary), the most necessary one. Comte Pertingue, who has been here about a fortnight, far from disavowing, confirms all that Mr. Harte has said to your advantage. He thinks he shall be at Turin much about the time of your arrival there, and pleases himself with, the hopes of being useful to you : though, should you get there before him, he says that Comte du Perron, with whom you are a favourite, will take that care. You see by this one instance, and, in the course of your life you will see by a million of instances, of what use a good reputation is, and how swift and advantageous a harbinger it is, wherever one goes. Upon this point, too, Mr. Harte does you justice, and tells me that you are desirous of praise from the praiseworthy : this is a right and generous ambition ; and with- out which, I fear, few people would deserve praise. But here let me, as an old stager upon the theatre of the world, suggest one consideration to you ; which is, to extend your desire of praise a little beyond the strictly praiseworthy ; or else you may be apt to discover too much contempt for at least three parts in five of the world, who will never forgive it you. In the mass of mankind I fear there is too great a majority of fools and knaves ; who, simply from their number, must to a certain degree be respected, though they are by no means respect- able. And a man who will show every knave or fool that he thinks him such, will engage in a most ruinous war against num- bers much superior to those that he and his allies can bring into the field. Abhor a knave, and pity a fool in your heart ; but let LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 183 neither of them unnecessarily see that you do so. Some com- plaisance and attention to fools is prudent, and not mean : as a silent abhorrence of individual knaves is often necessary, and not criminal. As you will now soon part with Lord Pulteney, with whom, during your stay together at Leipsig, I suppose you have formed a connection, I imagine that you will continue it by letters, which I would advise you to do. They tell me he is good-natured, and does not want parts, which are of themselves two good reasons for keeping it up ; but there is also a third reason, which, in the course of the world, is not to be despised : his father cannot live long, and will leave him an immense fortune, which, in all events, will make him of some consequence, and, if he has parts into the bargain, of very great consequence ; so that his friendship may be extremely well worth your cultivating, especially as it will not cost you above one letter in one month. I do not know whether this letter will find you at Leipsig ; at least, it is the last I shall direct there. My next, to either you or Mr. Harte, will be directed to Berlin ; but, as I do not know to what house or street there, I suppose it will remain at the post- house till you send for it. Upon your arrival at Berlin, you will send me your particular direction; and also, pray be minute in your accounts of your reception there by those whom I recom- mend you to, as well as by those to whom they present you. Remember, too, that you are going to a polite and literate Court, where the Graces will best introduce you. Adieu ! God bless you ! and may you continue to deserve my love as much as you now enjoy it ! P.S. Lady Chesterfield bids me tell you that she decides entirely in your favour, against Mr. Grevenkop, and even against herself ; for she does not think that she could, at this time, write either so good a character or so good German. Pray write her a German letter upon that subject, in which you may tell her that, like the rest of the world, you approve of her judgment, because it is in your favour; and that you true Germans cannot allow Danes * to be competent judges of your language, etc. * Mi-. Grevenkop was a Dane. See letter XXIX. 184 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. LXXXVIII. LONDON, December 30, O.S. 1748. DBAR BOY, I direct this letter to Berlin, where, I suppose, it will either find you, or, at least, wait bat a very little time for you. I can- not help being anxious for your success, at this your first appear- ance upon the great stage of the world ; for, though the spectators are always candid enough to give great allowances, and to show great indulgence to a new actor, yet, from the first impressions which he makes upon them, they are apt to decide, in their own minds, at least, whether he will ever be a good one or not. If he seems to understand what he says, by speaking it properly ; if he is attentive to his part, instead of staring negligently about ; and if, upon the whole, he seems ambitious to please, they willingly pass over little awkwardnesses and inaccuracies, which they ascribe to a commendable modesty in a young and inexperienced actor. They pronounce that he will be a good one in time ; and, by the encouragement which they give him, make him so the sooner. This, I hope, will be your case : you have sense enough to understand your part ; a constant attention, and ambition to excel in it, with a careful observation of the best actors, will inevitably qualify you, if not for the first, at least for considerable parts. Your dress (as insignificant a thing as dress is in itself) is now become an object worthy of some attention; for, I confess, I cannot help forming some opinion of a man's sense and character from his dress ; and, I believe, most people do as well as myself. Any affectation whatsoever in dress, implies, in my mind, a flaw in the understanding. Most of our young fellows here display some character or other by their dress ; some affect the tremen- dous, and wear a great and fiercely-cocked hat, an enormous sword, a short waistcoat, and a black cravat ; these I should be almost tempted to swear the peace against, in my own defence, if I were not convinced that they are but meek asses in lions' skins. Others go in brown frocks, leather breeches, great oaken cudgels in their hands, their hats uncocked, and their hair unpowdered ; and imitate grooms, stage-coachmen, and country bumpkins so well in their outsides, that I do not make the least doubt of their LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 185 resembling them equally in their insides. A mau of sense care- fully avoids any particular character in his dress ; he is accurately clean for his own sake, but all the rest is for other people's. Ho dresses as well, and in the same manner, as the people of sense and fashion of the place where he is. If he dresses better, as he thinks, that is, more than they, he is a fop ; if he dresses worse, he is unpardonably negligent : but of the two, I would rather have a young fellow too much than too little dressed ; the excess on that side will wear off with a little age and reflection; but if he is negligent at twenty, he will be a sloven at forty, and stink at fifty years old. Dress yourselves fine where others are fine, and plain where others are plain ; but take care always that your clothes are well made, and fit you, for otherwise they will give you a very awkward air. When you are once well dressed for the day, think no more of it afterwards ; and, without any stiffness for fear of discomposing that dress, let all your motions be as easy and natural as if you had no clothes on at all. So much for dress, which I maintain to be a thing of consequence in the polite world. As to manners, good- breeding, and the Graces, I have so often entertained you upon these important subjects, that I can add nothing to what I bave formerly said. Your own good sense will suggest to you the substance of them ; and observation, experience, and good company, the several modes of them. Your great vivacity, which I hear of from many people, will be no hindrance to your pleasing in good company ; on the contrary, will be of use to you, if tempered by good -breeding, and accom- panied by the Graces. But then, I suppose your vivacity to be a vivacity of parts, and not a constitutional restlessness ; for the most disagreeable composition that I know in the world, is that of strong animal spirits with a cold genius. Such a fellow is troublesomely active, frivolously busy, foolishly lively ; talks much with little meaning, and laughs more with less reason : whereas, in my opinion, a warm and lively genius, with a cool constitution, is the perfection of human nature. Do what you will at Berlin, provided you do but do something all day long. All that I desire of you is, that you will never slattern away one minute in idleness and in doing nothing. When you are not in company, learn what either books, masters, or 186 LOBD CHESTEKFIKLD'S LETTERS. Mr. Harte can teach you ; and, when you are in company, learn (what company only can teach you) the characters and manners of mankind. I really ask your pardon for giving you this advice, because, if you are a rational creature and a thinking being, as I suppose and verily believe you are, it must be unnecessary, and to a certain degree injurious. If I did not know, by experience, that some men pass their whole time in doing nothing, I should not think it possible for any being, superior to M. Descartes' s automatons, to squander away in absolute idleness one single minute of that small portion of time which is allotted us in this world. I have lately seen one Mr. Cranmer, a very sensible merchant, who told me he had dined with you, and seen you often at Leipsig ; and yesterday I saw an old footman of mine, whom I made a messenger, who told me that he had seen you last August. You will easily imagine that I was not the less glad to see them because they had seen you ; and I examined them both narrowly in their respective departments the former as to your mind, the latter as to your body. Mr. Cranmer gave me great satisfaction, not only by what he told me of himself concerning you, but by what he was commissioned to tell me from Mr. Mascow. As he speaks German perfectly himself, I asked him how you spoke it, and he assured me very well for the time, and that a very little more practice would make you perfectly master of it. The messenger told me you were much grown, and, to the best of his guess, within two inches as tall as I am; that you were plump, and looked healthy and strong, which was all I could expect, or hope, from the sagacity of the person. I send you, my dear child (and, you will not doubt, very sincerely), the wishes of the season. May you deserve a greut number of happy New years ! and, if you deserve, may you have them ! Many new years, indeed, you may see, but happy ones you cannot see without deserving them. These, virtue, honour, and knowledge alone can merit alone can procure. Dii tibi dent annos, de te nam ccetera swwes,* was a pretty piece of poetical flattery, where it was said ; 1 hope that, in time, it may be no flattery when said to you. But I assure you that, whenever I cannot apply the latter part of the line to you with truth, I shall neither say, think, nor wish the former. Adieu ! * Ovid, Ex Ponto, II. i. 53. LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 187 LXXXIX. LONDON, January 10, O.S. 1749. DKAB BOY, I have received your letter of the Slat December, N.S. Your thanks for my present, as you call it, exceed the value of the present; but the use which you assure me that you will make of it is the thanks which I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and due contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of sense and his books. Now that you are going a little more into the world, I will take this occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money that may be necessary for either your improvement or your pleasures I mean, the pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement, I mean the best books and the best masters, cost what they will ; I also mean, all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress, servants, etc., which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under the head of rational pleasures, I comprehend first, proper charities to real and compassionate objects of it ; secondly, proper presents to those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige ; thirdly, a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep as in public spectacles, your share of little entertainments, a few pistoles at games of mere commerce, and other incidental calls of good company. The only two articles which I will never supply are the profusion of low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool squanders away, without credit or advantage to himself, more than a man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing to himself or others ; the former buys whatever he does not want, and does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms of a toy-shop; snuff- boxes, watches, heads of canes, etc., are his destruction. His ser- vants and tradesmen conspire with his own indolence to cheat him ; 188 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and in a very little time he is astonished, in the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without oare and method, the largest fortune will not and with them, almost the smallest will supply all necessary expenses. As far as you can possibly, pay ready money for everything you buy, and avoid bills. Pay that mouey, too, yourself, and not through the hands of any servant, who always either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, as they call it. Where you must have bills (as for meat and drink, clothes, etc.), pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. Never, from a mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want because it is cheap, or, from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an account in a book of all that you receive, and of all that you pay ; for no man, who knows what he receives and what he pays, ever runs out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings and half- crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, etc. ; they are unworthy of the time, and of the ink, that they would consume. Leave such minuties to dull, penny- wise fellows; but remember, in economy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones. A strong mind sees things in their true proportions ; a weak one views them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an elephant of a flea, magnifies all little objects, but cannot receive great ones. I have known many a man pass for a miser, by saving a penny and wrangling for two- pence, who was undoing himself at the same time by living above his income, and not attending to essential articles, which were above his portee. The sure characteristic of a sound and strong mind is, to find in everything those certain bounds, quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum.* These boundaries are marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attention can discover : it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this line is good-breeding ; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony ; short of it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides ostentatious puritanistn from criminal relaxation. In religion, superstition from impiety ; and, in short, every virtue * Horace, Satire, I. i., 107. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 189 from its kindred vice or weakness. I think you have sense enough to discover the line : keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; rest upon Mr. Harte, and he will poise you till you are able to go alone. By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line than upon the slack rope, and therefore a good performer shines so much the more. Your friend, Comte Pertingue, who constantly inquires after you, has written to Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy at Turin, to prepare a room for you there, immediately after the Ascension, and has recommended you to him in a manner which T hope you will give him no reason to repent or be ashamed of. As Comte Salmour's son, now residing at the Hague, is my par- ticular acquaintance, I shall have regular and authentic accounts of all that you do at Turin. During your stay at Berlin, I expect that you should inform yourself thoroughly of the present state of the civil, military, and ecclesiastical government of the King of Prussia's* dominions, particularly of the military, which is upon a better footing in that country than in any other in Europe. You will attend at the reviews, see the troops exercise, and inquire into the num- bers of troops and companies in the respective regiments of horse, foot, and dragoons; the numbers and titles of the com- missioned and non-commissioned officers in the several troops and companies; and also take care to learn the technical military terms in the German language ; for, though you are not to be a military man, yet these military matters are so frequently the subjects of conversation, that you will look very awkwardly if you are ignorant of them. Moreover, they are commonly the objects of negotiation, and, as such, fall within your future pro- fession. You must also inform yourself of the reformation which the King of Prussia has lately made in the law, by which he has both lessened the number and shortened the duration of lawsuits; a great work, and worthy of so great a prince ! As he is indis- putably the ablest prince in Europe, every part of his govern- ment deserves your most diligent inquiry, and your most serious attention. It must be owned that you set out well as a young politician, by beginning at Berlin, and then going to Turin, where you will see the next ablest monarch to that of Prussia - r * Frederick the Great. 190 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. so that, if you are capable of making political reflections, those two princes will furnish you with sufficient matter for them. I would have you endeavour to get acquainted with Monsieur de Maupertuis,* who is so eminently distinguished by all kinds of learning and merit, that one should be both sorry and ashamed of having been even a day in the same place with him, and not to have seen him. If you should have no other way of being introduced to him, I will send you a letter from hence. Mon- sieur Cagnoni, at Berlin, to whom I know you are recommended, is a very able man of business, thoroughly informed of every part of Europe; and his acquaintance, if you deserve and improve it as you should do, may be of great use to you. Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you to sit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The Graces, the Graces ! remember the Graces ! Adieu ! XC. LONDON, January 24, O.S. 1749. DBAB BOY, I have received your letter of the 12th, N.S., in which I was surprised to find no mention of your approaching journey to Berlin, which, according to the first plan, was to be on the 20th, N.S., and upon which supposition I have for some time directed my letters to you and Mr. Harte at Berlin. I should be glad that yours were more minute with regard to your motions and transactions ; and I desire that, for the future, they may contain accounts of what and whom you see and hear in your several places of residence ; for I interest myself as much in the com- pany you keep, and the pleasures you take, as in the studies you pursue, and therefore equally desire to be informed of them all. * A celebrated mathematician, born at St. Malo in 1698. In 1736 he was chief of the Academicians in the expedition to Lapland to measure a degree of the meridian. Voltaire, then his friend, wrote beneath his portrait Son sort est de fixer la figure du monde, De lui plaire et de Veclairer. But after their quarrel Voltaire assailed him in the Diatribe du Docteur Akakia. He was invited to Berlin in 1740 by Frederick the Great, whom he followed to the field, and took prisoner at the battle of Molwitz; after his release in 1746 he returned to Berlin, and was elected President of the new Academy. He died in 1759. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 191 Another thing I desire, which is, that you will acknowledge my letters by their dates, that I may know which you do, and which you do not receive. As you found your brain considerably affected by the cold, you were very prudent not to turn it to poetry in that situation, and not less judicious in declining the borrowed aid of a stove, whose fumigation, instead of inspiration, would at best have pro- duced what Mr. Pope calls a souterldn of wit. I will show your letter to Duval, by way of justification for not answering his challenge ; and I think he must allow the validity of it ; for a frozen brain is as unfit to answer a challenge in poetry, as a blunt sword is for single combat. You may, if you please, and therefore I flatter myself that you will, profit considerably by your stay at Berlin, in the articles of manners and useful knowledge. Attention to what you will see and hear there, together with proper inquiries, and a little care and method in taking notes of what is most material, will procure you much useful knowledge. Many young people are so light, so dissipated, and so incurious, that they can hardly be said to see what they see, or hear what . they hear ; that is, they hear in so superficial and inattentive a manner, that they might as well not see nor hear at all. For instance; if they see a public building, as a college, an hospital, an arsenal, etc., they content themselves with the first coup d'oeil, and neither take the time nor trouble of informing themselves of the material parts of them, which are the constitution, the rules, and the order and economy in the inside. You will, I hope, go deeper, and make your way into the substance of things. For example : should you see a regiment reviewed at Berlin or Potsdam, instead of contenting yourself with the general glitter of the collective corps, and saying, par maniere d'acquit, that is very fine ; I hope you will ask what number of troops or companies it consists of; what number of officers of the etat major, and what number of subalternes ; how many bas officiers, or non- commissioned officers, as sergeants, corporals, anspessades, frey corporals, etc. ; their pay, their clothing, and by whom ; whether by the Colonels or Captains, or Commissaries appointed for that purpose; to whom they are accountable, the method of recruiting, completing, etc. 192 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. The same in civil matters : inform yourself of the jurisdictiou of a court of justice ; of the rules, and members, and endow- ments of a college or an academy, and not only by the dimensions of the respective edifices : and let your letters to me contain these informations, in proportion as you acquire them. I often reflect, with the most flattering hopes, how proud 1 shall be of you, if you should profit as you may, by the oppor- tunities which you have had, still have, and will have, of arriving at perfection ; and, on the other hand, with dread of the grief and shame you will give me if you do not. May the first be the case ! God bless you ! XCI. LONDON, February 7, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, You are now come to an age capable of reflection, and I hope you will do, what, however, few people at your age do, exert it, for your own sake, in tlie search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (for I am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many years since I have pre- sumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen or seventeen, I had no reflection ; and, for many years after that, I made no use of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the company I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and I rather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time and trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly from dissipation, and partly from the mauvaise honte of rejecting fashionable notions, I was (as I have since found) hurried away by prejudices, instead of being guided by reason ; and quietly cherished error, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the trouble of reason- ing for myself, and have had the courage to own that I do so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, and in how different a light I now see them, from that in which I formerly viewed them through the deceitful medium of preju- dice or authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many errors, which from long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions ; for it is very difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, from the result of our reason and reflection. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 193 My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys and women, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, etc.) was my classical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and the masters who explained them to me. I was convinced there bad been no common sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteen hundred years ; but that they were totally extinguished with the ancient G-reek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no faults, because they were ancient ; Milton and Tasso could have no merit, because they were modern. And I could almost have said, with regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, Cum quo errare malim quam cum aliis rede sentire. Whereas now, without any extra- ordinary effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was the same three thousand years ago as it is at present ; that men were but men then as well as now ; that modes and customs vary often, but that human nature is always the same. And I can no more suppose, that men were better, braver, or wiser, fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, than I can suppose that the animals or vegetables were better then than they are now. I dare assert, too, in defiance of the favourers of the ancients, that Homer's hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a scoundrel, and, consequently, an improper character for the hero of an epic poem ; he had so little regard for his country, that he would not acf in defence of it because he had quarrelled with Agamemnon; and then, afterwards, animated by private resentment only, he went about killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest armour in the world ; which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder, for a horse- shoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been sufficient. On the other hand, with submission to the favourers of the moderns, I assert, with Mr. Dryden, that the Devil is in truth the Hero of Milton's poem ; his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, being the subject of the Poem. From all which considerations I impartially conclude, that the ancients had their excellences and their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns; pedantry and affectation of learning decide clearly in favour of the former; vanity and ignoi'ance, as peremptorily, in favour of the latter. VOL. I. O 194 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Religious prejudices kepb pace with my classical ones ; and there was a time when I thought it impossible for the honestest man in the world to be saved, out of the pale of the Church of England ; not considering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will ; and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man should differ in opinion from me, as that I should differ from him ; and that, if we are both sincere, we are both blameless, and should consequently have mutual indulgence for each other. The next prejudices I adopted, were those of the beau monde ; in which, as I was determined to shine, I took what are com- monly called the genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and, without farther inquiry, I believed it ; or, at least, should have been ashamed to have denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule of those whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But I am now neither ashamed nor afraid to assert, that those genteel vices, as they are falsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character of even a man of the world, and what is called a fine gentleman, and degrade him in the opinions of those very people to whom he hopes to recommend himself by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, instead of carefully concealing those they had. Use and assert your own reason ; reflect, examine, and analyse everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgment ; let no oim>a impose upon your understanding, mislead your actions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what, if you are not, you will, when too late, wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes ; I do not say that it will always prove an unerr- ing guide, for human reason is not infallible ; but it will prove the least erring guide that you can follow. Books and conversa- tion may assist it ; but adopt neither blindly and implicitly ; try both by that best rule which God has given to direct us, reason. Of all the troubles, do not decline, as many people do, that of thinking. The herd of mankind can hardly be said to think ; their notions are almost all adoptive ; and, in general, I believe it is better that it should be so, as such common prejudices con- tribute more to order and quiet than their own separate reason- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 195 ings would do, uncultivated and unimproved as they are. We have many of those useful prejudices in this country, which I should be very sorry to see removed. The good Protestant con- viction, that the Pope is both Antichrist and the Whore of Babylon, is a more effectual preservative in this country against Popery than all the solid and unanswerable arguments of Chil- lingworth. The idle story of the Pretender's having been intro- duced in a warming-pan into the Queen's bed, though as destitute of all probability as of all foundation, has been much more prejudicial to the cause of Jacobitism than all that Mr. Locke and others have written to show the unreasonableness and absurdity of the doctrines of indefeasible hereditary right and unlimited passive obedience. And that silly, sanguine notion, which is firmly entertained here, that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen, encourages, and has sometimes enabled, one Englishman, in reality, to beat two. A Frenchman ventures his life with alacrity pour I'honneur du Roi ; were you to change the object which he has been taught to have in view, and tell him that it was pour le bien de la patrie, he would very probably run away. Such gross, local prejudices prevail with the herd of mankind, and do not impose upon cul- tivated, informed, and reflecting minds ; but then there are notions equally false, though not so glaringly absurd, which are entertained by people of superior and improved understandings, merely for want of the necessary pains to investigate, the proper attention to examine, and the penetration requisite to determine the truth. Those are the prejudices which I would have you guard against by a manly exertion and attention of your reason- ing faculty. To mention one instance of a thousand that I could give you : It is a general prejudice, and has been propagated for these sixteen hundred years, that arts and sciences cannot flourish under an absolute government ; and that genius must necessarily be cramped where freedom is restrained. This sounds plausible, but is false in fact. Mechanic arts, as agriculture, manufactures, etc., will indeed be discouraged where the profits and property are, from the nature of the government, insecure. But why the despotism of a government should cramp the genius of a mathe- matician, an astronomer, a poet, or an orator, I confess I never 196 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. could discover. It may indeed deprive the poet or the orator of the liberty of treating of certain subjects in the manner they would wish ; but it leaves them subjects enough to exert genius upon, if they have it. Can an author with reason complain that he is cramped and shackled if he is not at liberty to publish blasphemy, bawdry, or sedition ? all which are equally prohibited in the freest governments, if they are wise and well-regulated ones. This is the present general complaint of the French authors ; but, indeed, chiefly of the bad ones. No wonder, say they, that England produces so many great geniuses ; people there may think as they please, and publish what they think. Very true ; but who hinders them from thinking as they please ? If, indeed, they think in a manner destructive of all religion, morality, or good manners, or to the disturbance of the state, an absolute government will certainly more effectually prohibit them from, or punish them for, publishing such thoughts than a free one could do. But how does that cramp the genius of an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet ? Or how does it corrupt the eloquence of an orator, in the pulpit or at the bar ? The number of good French authors, such as Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, and La Fontaine, who seemed to dispute it with the Augustan age, flourished under the despotism of Louis XIV.; and the celebrated authors of the Augustan age did not shine till after the fetters were rivetted upon the Roman people by that cruel and worthless Emperor. The revival of letters was not owing, either, to any free government, but to the encouragement and protection of Leo X. and Francis I. the one as absolute a Pope, and the other as despotic a Prince, as ever reigned. Do not mistake, and imagine that, while I am only exposing a prejudice, I am speaking in favour of arbitrary power, which from my soul I abhor, and look upon as a gross and criminal violation of the natural rights of mankind. Adieu ! XCII. LONDON, February 28, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, I was very much pleased with the account that you gave me of your reception at Berlin ; but I was still better pleased with the account which Mr. Harte sent me of your manner of receiving LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 197 that reception, for he says you behaved yourself to those Crowned Heads with all the respect and modesty due to them, but, at the same time, without being any more embarrassed than if you had been conversing with your equals. This easy respect is the perfection of good-breeding, which nothing but superior good- sense or a long usage of the world can produce ; and as, in your case, it could not be the latter, it is a pleasing indication to me of the former. You will now, in the course of a few months, have been rubbed at three of the considerable Courts of Europe Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna; so that I hope you will arrive at Turin tolerably smooth, and fit for the last polish. There you may get the best, there being no Court I know of that forms more well-bred and agreeable people. Remember, now, that good-breeding, genteel carriage, address, and even dress (to a certain degree), are be- come serious objects, and deserve a part of your attention. The day, if well employed, is long enough for them all ; one half of it bestowed upon your studies and your exercises will finish your mind and your body ; the remaining part of it, spent in good company, will form your manners and complete your character. What would I not give to have you read Demos- thenes critically in the morning, and understand him better than anybody ; at noon, behave yourself better than any person at Court ; and, in the evenings, trifle more agreeably than anybody in mixed companies ! All this you may compass if you please ; you have the means, you have the opportunities. Employ them for God's sake, while you may, and make yourself that all-accom- plished man that I wish to have you. It entirely depends upon these two years j they are the decisive ones. I send you here enclosed a letter of recommendation to Mon- sieur Capello, at Venice, which you will deliver him immediately upon your arrival, accompaying it with compliments from me to him and Madame, both whom you have seen here. He will, I am sure, be both very civil and very useful to you there, as he will also be afterwards at Rome, where he is appointed to go Ambas- sador. By the way, wherever you are, I would advise you to frequent, aa much as you can, the Venetian Ministers, who are always better informed of the Courts they reside at than any other minister the strict and regular accounts which they are 198 LOBD CHESTERFIELD 8 LETTERS. obliged to give to their own government making them very diligent and inquisitive. You will stay at Venice as long as the Carnival lasts; for though I am impatient to have you at Turin, yet I would wish you to see thoroughly all that is to be seen at so singular a place as Venice, and at so showish a time as the Carnival. You will take also particular care to view all those meetings of the govern- ment, which strangers are allowed to see ; as the assembly of the Senate, etc. ; and likewise to inform yourself of that peculiar and intricate form of government. There are books that give an account of it, among which, the best is Amelot de la Houssaye ; this I would advise you to read previously ; it will not only give you a general notion of that constitution, but also furnish you with materials for proper questions and oral informations upon the place, which are always the best. There are likewise many very valuable remains, in sculpture and paintings, of the best masters, which deserve your attention. I suppose you will be at Vienna as soon as this letter will get thither ; and I suppose, too, that I must not direct above one more to you there. After which my next shall be directed to you at Venice, the only place where a letter will be likely to find you till you are at Turin ; but you may, and I desire that you will, write to me from the several places in your way from whence the post goes. I will send you some other letters, for Venice, to Vienna, or to your banker at Venice ; to whom you will, upon your arrival there, send for them; for I will take care to have you so recom- mended from place to place that you shall not run through them, as most of your countrymen do, without the advantage of seeing and knowing what best deserves to be seen and known; I mean the men and the manners. God bless you, and make you answer my wishes; I will now say, my hopes ! Adieu ! XCIII. DEAB BOY, I direct this letter to your banker at Venice, the surest place for you to meet with it, though I suppose it will be there some LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 199 time before you ; for as your intermediate stay anywhere else will be but short, and as the post from hence, in this season of easterly winds, is uncertain, I direct no more letters to Vienna ; where I hope both you and Mr. Harte will have received the two letters which I sent you respectively j with a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello at Venice, which was enclosed in mine to you. I will suppose, too, that the inland post on your side of the water has not done you justice ; for I received but one single letter from you, and one from Mr. Harte, during your whole stay at Berlin ; from whence I hoped for and expected very particular accounts. I persuade myself that the time you stay at Venice will be properly employed in seeing all that is to be seen at that extra- ordinary place ; and in conversing with people who can inform you, not of the raree-shows of the town, but of the constitution of the government ; for which purpose I send you the enclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Gray,* the King's resident at Venice, bub who is now in England. These, with mine to Monsieur Capello, will carry you, if you will go, into all the best company at Venice. But the important point and the important place is Turin ; for there I propose your staying a considerable time, to pursue your studies, learn your exercises, and form your manners. I own I am not without my anxiety for the consequence of your stay there, which must be either very good or very bad. To you it will be entirely a new scene. Wherever you have hitherto been, you have conversed chiefly with people wiser and discreeter than yourself, and have been equally out of the way of bad advice or bad example ; but in the Academy at Turin you will, probably, meet with both, considering the variety of young fellows of about your own age among whom, it is to be expected that some will be dissipated and idle, others vicious and profligate. I will be- lieve, till the contrary appears, that you have sagacity enough to distinguish the good from the bad characters, and both sense and virtue enough to shun the latter and connect yourself with the * This diplomatist was employed at Venice during several years. Lady Mary Wortley Montague writes of him : " Sir James Gray was, as I am told, universally esteemed during his residence here ; but, alas ! he is gone to ^Naples.'' (To the Countess of Bute, April 3 1758.) M. 200 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. former; but, however, for greater security, and for your sake alone, I must acquaint you that I have sent positive orders to Mr. Harte to carry you off instantly to a place which I have named to him, upon the very first symptom which he shall discover in you of drinking, gaming, idleness, or disobedience to his orders ; so that, whether Mr. Harte informs me or not of the particulars, I shall be able to judge of your conduct in general by the time of your stay at Turin. If it is short, I shall know why, and I promise you that you shall soon find that I do ; but, if Mr. Harte lets you continue there as long as I propose you should, I shall then be convinced that you make the proper use of your time, which is the only thing I have to ask of you. One year is the most that I propose you should stay at Turin ; and that year, if you employ it well, perfects you. One year more of your late application with Mr. Harte will complete your classical studies. You will be, likewise, master of your exercises in that time, and will have formed yourself so well at that Court as to be fit to appear advantageously at any other. These will be the happy effects of your year's stay at Turin, if you behave and apply yourself there as you have done at Leipsig ; but if either ill advice or ill example affect and seduce you, you are ruined for ever. I look upon that year as your decisive year of probation ; go through it well, and you will be all accomplished, and fixed in my tenderest affection for ever; but, should the contagion of vice or idleness lay hold of you there, your char- acter, your fortune, my hopes, and consequently my favour, are all blasted, and you are undone. The more I love you now, from the good opinion that I have of you, the greater will be my indignation, if I should have reason to change it. Hitherto you have had every possible proof of my affection, because you have deserved it ; but when you cease to deserve it, you may expect every possible mark of my resentment. To leave nothing doubt- ful upon this important point, I will tell you fairly, beforehand, by what rule I shall judge of your conduct : by Mr. Harte' s accounts. He will not, I am sure nay, I will say more, he cannot be in the wrong with regard to you ; he can have no other view but your good ; and you will I am sure allow, that he must be a better judge of it than you can possibly be at your age. While he is satisfied, I shall be so too ; but, whenever he is dis- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 201 satisfied with you, I shall be much more so. If he complains you must be guilty ; and I shall not have the least regard for anything that you may allege in your own defence. I will now tell you what I expect and insist upon from you at Turin : First, that you pursue your classical and other studies every morning with Mr. Harte, as long and in whatever manner Mr. Harte shall be pleased to require ; secondly, that you learn, uninterruptedly, your exercises of riding, dancing, and fencing ; thirdly, that you make yourself master of the Italian language ; and lastly, that you pass your evenings in the best company. I also require a strict conformity to the hours and rules of the Academy. If you will but finish your year in this manner at Turin, I have nothing further to ask of you, and I will give you everything that you can ask of me. You shall after that be entirely your own master : I shall think you safe, shall lay aside all authority over you, and friendship shall be our mutual and only tie. Weigh this, I beg of you, deliberately in your own mind, and consider whether the application and the degree of restraint which I require but for one year more will not be amply repaid by all the advantages, and the perfect liberty, which you will receive at the end of it. Your own good-sense will, I am sure, not allow you to hesitate one moment in your choice. God bless you ! Adieu ! P.S. Sir James Gray's letters not being yet sent me, as I thought they would, I shall enclose them in my next, which, I believe, will gee to Venice as soon as you. XCIV. LONDON, April 12, 0.8. 1749. DKAB BOY, I received by the last mail a letter from Mr. Harte, dated Prague, April the 1st, N.S. ; for which I desire you will return him my thanks, and assure him that I extremely approve of what he has done, and proposes eventually to do, in your way to Turin. Who would have thought you were old enough to have been so well acquainted with the heroes of the helium tricennale as to be looking out for their great-grandsons in Bohemia, with that affection with which I am informed you seek for the 20*2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Wallsteins,* the Kinskis, etc. ? As I cannot ascribe it to your age, I must to your consummate knowledge of history, that makes every country and every century, as it were, your own. Seriously ; I am told that you are both very strong and very correct in history; of which I am extremely glad. This is useful knowledge. Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris are arrived here ; the former gave me a letter from Sir Charles Williams, the latter brought me your orders. They are very pretty men, and have both knowledge and manners ; which, though they always ought, seldom do go together. I examined them, particularly Comte Lascaris, concerning you ; their report is a very favourable one, especially on the side of knowledge ; the quickness of conception which they allow you I can easily credit; but the attention which they add to it pleases me the more, as, I own, I expected it less. Go on in the pursuit and the increase of knowledge ; nay, I am sure you will, for you now know too much to stop ; aad, if Mr. Harte would let you be idle, I am convinced that you would not. But now that you have left Leipsig, and are entered into the great world, remember there is another object that must keep pace with, and accompany, knowledge ; I mean, manners, politeness, and the Graces, in which Sir Charles Williams, though very much your friend, owns you are very deficient. The manners of Leipsig must be shook off; and in that respect you must put on the new man. No scrambling at your meals as at a German ordinary ; no awkward overturns of glasses, plates, and salt-cellars; no horse- play. On the contrary, a gentleness of manners, a graceful carriage, and an insinuating address, must take their place. I repeat, and shall never cease repeating to you, the Graces, the Graces. I desire that, as soon as ever you get to Turin, you will apply yourself diligently to the Italian language ; that, before you leave that place, you may know it well enough to be able to speak tolerably when you get to Rome; whei'e you will soon make yourself perfectly master of Italian, from the daily necessity you will be under of speaking it. In the meantime, I insist upon your not neglecting, much less forgetting, the German you already know ; which you may not only continue, but improve, * More correctly, Wallenstein. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 203 by speakiug it constantly to your Saxon boy, and as often as you can to the several Germans you will meet in your travels. You remember, no doubt, that you must never write to me from Turin but in the German language and character. ] send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith, the King's Consul at Venice ; who can, and I dare say will, be more useful to you there than anybody. Pray make your court and behave your best to Monsieur and Madame Capello, who will be of great use to you at Rome. Adieu ! Yours, tenderly. XCV. LONDON, April 19, O.S. 1749. DEAK BOY, This letter will, I believe, still find you at Venice, in all the dissipation of masquerades, ridottos, operas, etc. ; with all my heart; they are decent evening amusements, and very properly succeed that serious application to which I am sure you devote your mornings. There are liberal and illiberal pleasures as well as liberal and illiberal arts. There are some pleasures that degrade a gentleman as much as some trades could do. Sottish drinking, indiscriminate gluttony, driving coaches, rustic sports, such as fox-chases, horse-races, etc., are, in my opinion, infinitely below the honest and industrious professions of a tailor and a shoemaker, which are said to deroger. As you are now in a musical country, where singing, fiddling, and piping are not only the common topics of conversation, but almost the principal objects of attention ; I cannot help caution- ing you against giving into those (I will call them illiberal) pleasures (though music is commonly reckoned one of the liberal arts), to the degree that most of your countrymen do when they travel in Italy. If you love music, hear it ; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous, contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of bad company ; and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth. 204 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. I have had a great deal of conversation with Comte du Perron, and Comte Lascaris, upon your subject ; and I will tell you, very truly, what Comte du Perron (who is, in my opinion, a very pretty man) said of you. II a de I' esprit, un sqavoir pen commun a son age, une grande vivacite, et quand il aura pris des manieres il sera par/ait ; car il faut avouer qu'il sent encore le college ; mais cela viendra. I was very glad to hear, from one whom I. think so good a judge, that you wanted nothing but des manieres; which 1 am convinced you will now soon acquire in the company which heuceforwards you are likely to keep. But I must add, too, that, if you should not acquire them, all the rest will be of very little use to you. By manieres, I do not mean bare common civility ; everybody must have that, who would not be kicked out of company ; but I mean engaging, insinuating, shining manners ; a distinguished politeness, an almost irresistible address ; a superior gracefulness in all you say and do. It is this alone that can give all your other talents their full lustre and value; and. consequently, it is this which should now be the principal object of your attention. Observe minutely, wherever you go, the allowed and established models of good- breeding, and form yourself upon them. Whatever pleases you most, in others, will infallibly please others, in you. I have often repeated this to you ; now is your time of putting it in practice. Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte ; and tell him I have received his letter from Vienna, of the 16th N.S., but that I shall not trouble him with an answer to it till I have received the other letter, which he promises me, upon the subject of one of my last. I long to hear from him after your settlement at Turin ; the months that you are to pass there will be very decisive ones for you. The exercises of the Academy, and the manners of Courts, must be attended to and acquired, and, at the same time, your other studies continued. I am sure you will not pass, nor desire, one single idle hour there ; for I do not foresee that you can, in any part of your life, put out six months to greater interest, than those next six at Turin. We will talk hereafter about your stay at Rome, and in other parts of Italy. This only I will now recommend to you ; which is, to extract the spirit of every place you go to. In those LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 205 places, which are only distinguished by classical fame, and valuable remains of antiquity, have your Classics in your hand and in your head ; compare the ancient geography, and descrip- tions, with the modern ; and never fail to take notes. Rome will furnish you with business enough of that sort ; but then it furnishes you with many other objects well deserving your atten- tion, such as deep ecclesiastical craft and policy. Adieu ! XCVI. LONDON, April 27, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, I have received your letter from Vienna, of the 19th, N.S., which gives me great uneasiness, upon Mr. Harte's account. You and I have reason to interest ourselves very particularly in everything that relates to him. I am glad, however, that no bone is broken or dislocated ; which being the case, I hope he will have been able to pursue his journey to Venice ; in that supposition I direct this letter to yon at Turin; where it will either find, or at least not wait very long for you ; as I calculate that you will be there by the end of next month, N.S. I hope you reflect how much you have to do there, and that you are determined to employ every moment of your time accordingly. You have your classical and severer studies to continue with Mr. Harte ; you have your exercises to learn ; the turn and manners of a Court to acquire ; reserving always some time for the decent amusements and pleasures of a gentleman. You see that I am never against pleasures ; I loved them myself when I was of your age, and it is as reasonable that you should love them now. But I insist upon it, that pleasures are very combinable with both business and studies, and have a much better relish from the mixture. The man who cannot join business and pleasure, is either a formal coxcomb in the one, or a sensual beast in the other. Your evenings I therefore allot for company, assemblies, balls, and such sort of amusements ; as I look upon those to be the best schools for the manners of a gentleman ; which nothing can give but use, observation, and experience. You have, besides, Italian to learn, to which 1 desire you will diligently apply j for though French is, I believe, the language 206 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. of the Court at Turin, yet Italian will be very necessary for you at Eome, and in other parts of Italy; and if you are well grounded in it while you are at Turin (as you easily may, for it is a very easy language), your subsequent stay at Rome will make you perfect in it. I would also have you acquire a general notion of Fortification ; I mean so far as not to be ignorant of the terms, which you will often hear mentioned in company ; such as Ravelin, Bastion, Glacis, Gontrescarpe, etc. In order to this, I do not propose that you should make a study of Fortifica- tion, as if you were to be an Engineer ; but a very easy way of knowing as much as you need know of them, will be to visit often the fortifications of Turin, in company with some old Officer or Engineer, who will show and explain to you the several works themselves ; by which means you will get a clearer notion of them, than if you were to see them only upon paper for seven years together. Go to originals whenever you can, and trust to copies and descriptions as little as possible. At your idle hours while you are at Turin, pray read the history of the House of Savoy, which has produced a great many very great men. The late King, Victor Amedee, was undoubtedly one, and the present King* is in my opinion another. In general, I believe that little Princes are more likely to be great men, than those whose more extensive dominions, and superior strength, flatter them with a security, which commonly produces negligence and indolence. A little Prince in the neighbourhood of great ones, must be alert, 'and look out sharp, if he would secure his own dominions j much more still if he would enlarge them. He must watch for conjunctures, or endeavour to make them. No Princes have ever possessed this art better than those of the House of Savoy ; who have enlarged their dominions prodigiously within a century, by profiting of conjunctures. I send you here enclosed a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a warm friend of yours ; I desire that you will answer it very soon, and very cordially ; and remember to make your compli- ments in it to Comte du Perron. A young man should never be wanting in these attentions ; they cost little, and bring in a great deal, by getting you people's good word and affection. * Charles Emanuel, who had succeeded to the throne in 1730, on his father's resignation. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 207 They gain the heart, to which I have always advised you to apply yourself particularly ; it guides ten thousand for one that reason influences. I cannot end this letter, or, I believe, any other, without repeating my recommendation of the Graces. They are to be met with at Turin ; for God's sake, sacrifice to them, and they will be propitious. People mistake grossly, to imagine that the least awkwardness, in either matter or manner, mind or body, is an indifferent thing, and not worthy of attention. It may possibly be a weakness in me (but in short we are all so made) ; I confess to you fairly, that when you shall come home, and that I first see you, if I find you ungraceful in your address, and awkward in your person and dress, it will be impossible for me to love you half so well as I should otherwise do, let your intrinsic merit and knowledge be ever so great. If that would be your case with me, as it really would, judge how much worse it might be with others, who have not the same affection and partiality for you, and to whose hearts you must make your own way. Remember to write to me constantly, while you are in Italy, in the German language and character, till you can write to me in Italian ; which will not be till you have been some time at Rome. Adieu, my dear boy ; may you turn out, what Mr. Harte and I wish you ! I must add, that, if you do not, it will be both your own fault and your own misfortune. XCVII. LONDON, May 15, O.S. 1749. DEAE BOY, This letter will, I hope, find you settled to your serious studies, and your necessary exercises, at Turin, after the hurry and dissipation of the Carnival at Venice. I mean, that your stay at Turin should, and I natter myself that it will, be an useful and ornamental period of your education ; but, at the same time, I must tell you, that all my affection for you has never yet given me so much anxiety as that which I now feel. While you are in danger, I shall be in fear, and you are in danger at Turin. Mr. 208 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Harte will, by his care, arm you as well as he can against it ; but your own good sense and resolution can alone make you invul- nerable. I am informed, there are now many English at the Academy at Turin ; and I fear those are just so many dangers for you to encounter. Who they are I do not know, but I well know the general ill conduct, the indecent behaviour, and the illiberal views of my young countrymen abroad ; especially wherever they are in numbers together. Ill example is of itself dangerous enough, but those who give it seldom stop there ; they add their infamous exhortations and invitations; and, if these fail, they have recourse to ridicule ; which is harder for one of your age and inexperience to withstand, than either of the former. Be upon your guard, therefore, against these batteries, which will all be played upon you. You are not sent abroad to converse with your own countrymen; among them, in general, you will get little knowledge, no languages, and, I am sure, no manners. I desire that you will form no connections, nor (what they impudently call) friendships, with these people ; which are, in truth, only combinations and conspiracies against good morals and good manners. There is commonly in young people a facility that makes them unwilling to refuse anything that is asked of them ; a mauvaiae honte, that makes them ashamed to refuse; and, at the same time, an ambition of pleasing and shining in the company they keep; these several causes produce the best effect in good company, but the very worst in bad. If people had no vices but their own, few would have so many as they have. For my own part, I would sooner wear other people's clothes than their vices ; and they would sit upon me just as well. I hope you will have none ; but if ever you have, I beg, at least, they may be all your own. Vices of adoption are, of all others, the most disgraceful and unpardonable. There are degrees in vices as well as in virtues ; and I must do my countrymen the justice to say, they generally take their vices in the lowest degree. Their gallantry is the infamous mean debauchery of stews, justly attended and rewarded by the loss of their health, as well as their character. Their pleasures of the table end in beastly drunkenness, low riot, broken windows, and very often (as they well deserve) broken bones. They game for the sake of the vice, not of the amuse- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 209 ment ; and therefore carry it to excess ; undo, or are undone by, their companions. By such conduct, and in such company abroad, they come home, the unimproved, illiberal, and ungentle- manlike creatures that one daily sees them ; that is, in the park and in the streets, for one never meets them in good company ; where they have neither manners to present themselves, nor merit to be received. But, with the manners of footmen and grooms, they assume their dress too ; for you must have observed them in the streets here, in dirty-blue frocks, with oaken sticks in their hands, and their hair greasy and unpowdered, tucked up under hats of an enormous size. Thus finished and adorned by their travels, they become the disturbers of playhouses ; they break the windows, and commonly the landlords, of the taverns where they drink ; and are at once the support, the terror, and the victims of the houses they frequent. These poor mistaken people think they shine, and so they do indeed; but it is as putrefaction shines in the dark. I am not now preaching to you, like an old fellow, upon either religious or moral texts ; I am persuaded you do not want the best instructions of that kind : but I am advising you as a friend, as a man of the world, as one who would not have you old while you are young, but would have you take all the pleasures that reason points out and that decency warrants. I will therefore suppose, for argument's sake (for upon no other account can it be supposed),' that all the vices above mentioned were perfectly innocent in themselves ; they would still degrade, vilify, and sink those who practised them ; would obstruct their rising in the world, by debasing their characters ; and give them a low turn of mind and manners, absolutely inconsistent with their making any figure in upper life, and great business. What I have now said, together with your own good sense, is I hope sufficient to arm you against the seduction, the invitations, or the profligate exhortations (for I cannot call them temptations) of those unfortunate young people. On the other hand, when they would engage you in these schemes, content yourself with a decent but steady refusal ; avoid controversy upon such plain points. You are too young to convert them, and I trust too wise to be converted by them. Shun them, not only in reality, but even in appearance, if you would be well received in good VOL. i. p 210 LORD CHESTERFIELDS LETTERS. company ; for people will always be shy of receiving a man who comes from a place where the plague rages, let him look ever so healthy. There are some expressions, both in French and English, and some characters, both in those two and in other countries, which have, I dare say, misled many young men to their ruin. Une Jicnnete debanche, une jolie debauche ; an agree- able rake, a man of pleasure. Do not think that this means de- bauchery and profligacy ; nothing like it. It means at most the accidental and unfrequent irregularities of youth and vivacity, in opposition to dulness, formality, and want of spirit. A commerce galant insensibly formed with a woman of fashion ; a glass of wine or two too much unwarily taken in the warmth and joy of good company, or some innocent frolic by which nobody is injured, are the utmost bounds of that life of pleasure which a man of sense and decency, who has a regard for his character, will allow himself, or be allowed by others. Those who transgress them in the hopes of shining, miss their aim, and become infamous, or at least contemptible. The length or shortness of your stay at Turin will sufficiently inform me (even though Mr. Harte should not) of your conduct there ; for, as I have told you before, Mr. Harte has the strictest orders to carry you away immediately from thence upon the first and least symptom of infection that he discovers about you ; and I know him to be too conscientiously scrupulous, and too much your friend and mine, not to execute them exactly. Moreover, I will inform you that I shall have constant accounts of your behaviour from Cornte Salmour, the governor of the Academy, whose son is now here, and my particular friend. I have also other good channels of intelligence of which I do not apprise you. But, supposing that all turns out well at Turin, yet, as I propose your being at Rome for the jubilee at Christmas, I desire that you will apply yourself diligently to your exercises of dancing, fencing, and riding, at the Academy ; as well for the sake of your health and growth, as to fashion and supple you. You must not neglect your dress neither, but take care to be bien mis. Pray send for the best operator for the teeth at Turin, where I suppose there is some famous one, and let him put yours in perfect order, and then take care to keep them so afterwards yourself. You had very good teeth, and I hope they are so still ; but even LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. *2il those who have bad ones should keep them clean, for a dirty mouth is in my mind ill manners : in short, neglect nothing that can possibly please. A thousand nameless little things, which nobody can describe, but which everybody feels, conspire to forrn that whole of pleasing ; as the several pieces of a mosaic work , though separately of little beauty or value, when properly joined, form those beautiful figures which please everybody. A look, a gesture, an attitude, a tone of voice, all bear their parts in the great work of pleasing. The art of pleasing is more particularly necessary in your intended profession than perhaps in any other ; it is in truth the first half of your business; for, if you do not please the Court you are sent to, you will be of very little use to the Court you are sent from. Please the eyes and the ears, they will introduce you to the heart; and nine times in ten the heart governs the understanding. Make your court particularly, and show distinguished atten- tions, to such men and women as are best at Court, highest in the fashion, and in the opinion of the public ; speak advan- tageously of them behind their backs, in companies who you have reason to believe will tell them again. Express your admiration of the many great men that the House of Savoy has produced; observe, that nature, instead of being exhausted by those efforts, seems to have redoubled them in the persons of the present King and the Duke of Savoy : wonder at this rate where it will end, and conclude that it must end in the government of all Europe. Say this, likewise, where it will probably be repeated ; but say it unaffectedly, and, the last especially, with a kind of enjouement. These little arts are very allowable, and must be made use of in the course of the world; they are pleasing to one party, useful to the other, and injurious to nobody. What I have said with regard to my countrymen in general does not extend to them all without exception : there are some who have both merit and manners. Your friend Mr. Stevens is among the latter, and I approve of your connection with him. You may happen to meet with some others, whose friendship may be of great use to you hereafter, either from their superior talents, or their rank and fortune. Cultivate them; but then I desire that Mr. Harte should be judge of those persons. 212 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Adieu, my dear child ! Consider seriously the importance of the two next years, to your character, your figure, and your fortune. XCVI1I. LONDON, May 22, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, I recommended to you in my last an innocent piece of art that of flattering people behind their backs, in presence of those who, to make their own court, much more than for your sake, will not fail to repeat, and even amplify, the praise to the party concerned. This is, of all flattery, the most pleasing, and conse- quently the most effectual. There are other, and many other, inoffensive arts of this kind, which are necessary in the course of the world, and which he who practises the earliest will please the most, and rise the soonest. The spirits and vivacity of youth are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them as troublesome ; but subsequent knowledge and experience of the world remind us of their importance, commonly when it is too late. The principal of these things is the mastery of one's temper, and that coolness of mind, and serenity of countenance, which hinder us from discovering, by words, actions, or even looks, those passions or sentiments by which we are inwardly moved or agitated, and the discovery of which gives cooler and abler people such infinite advantages over us, not only in great business, but in all the most common occurrences of life. A man who does not possess himself enough to hear disagreeable things without visible marks of anger and change of counten- ance, or agreeable ones without sudden bursts of joy and expansion of countenance, is at the mercy of every artful knave or pert coxcomb. The former will provoke or please you by design, to catch unguarded words or looks, by which he will easily decipher the secrets of your heart, of which you should keep the key yourself, and trust it with no man living. The latter will, by his absurdity, and without intending it, produce the same discoveries, of which other people will avail them- selves. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 213 You will say, possibly, that this coolness must be constitu- tional, and consequently does not depend upon the will ; and I will allow that constitution has some power over us ; but I will maintain, too, that people very often, to excuse themselves, very unjustly accuse their constitutions. Care and reflection, if properly used, will get the better ; and a man may as surely get a habit of letting his reason prevail over his constitution, as of letting, as most people do, the latter prevail over the former. If you find yourself subject to sudden starts of passion or mad- ness (for I see no difference between them, but in their duration), resolve within yourself, at least, never to speak one word while you feel that emotion within you. Determine, too, to keep your countenance as unmoved and unembarrassed as possible which steadiness you may get a habit of by constant at- tention. I should desire nothing better, in any negotiation, than to have to do with one of these men of warm, quick passions, which I would take care to set in motion. By artful provocations, I would extort rash and unguarded expressions 3 arid, by hinting at all the several things that I could suspect, infallibly discover the true one, by the alteration it occasioned in the countenance of the person. Volto sciolto con pensieri tifretti is a most useful maxim in business. It is so necessary at some games, such as Berlan, Quinze. ec., that a man who had not the command of his temper and countenance would infallibly be undone by those who had, even though they played fair; whereas in business you always play with sharpers, to whom at least you should give no fair advantages. It may be objected, that I am now recommending dissimulation to you ; I both own and justify it. It has been long said, Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare ; I go still farther, and say, that without some dissimu- lation no business can be carried on aD all. It is simulation that is false, mean, and criminal ; that is the cunning which Lord Bacon calls crooked or left-handed wisdom, and which is never made use of but by those who have not true wisdom. And the same great man says, that dissimulation is only to hide our own cards ; whereas simulation is put on in order to look into other people's. Lord Bolingbroke, in his " Idea of a Patriot King," * which he has lately published, and which I will send you by * Published in 1749. See Letter CXXIT. 214 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. the first opportunity, says, very justly, that simulation is a stiletto ; not only an unjust, but an unlawful weapon, and the use of it is rarely to be excused, never justified : whereas dis- simulation is a shield, as secrecy is armour; and it is no more possible to preserve secrecy in business, without some degree of dissimulation, than it is to succeed in business without secrecy. He goes on and says, that those two arts of dissimulation and secrecy are like the alloy mingled with pure ore : a little is neces- sary, and will not debase the coin below its proper standard ; but if more than that little be employed (that is, simulation and cunning), the coin loses its currency and the coiner his credit. Make yourself absolute master, therefore, of your temper and your countenance so far, at least, as that no visible change do appear in either, whatever you may feel inwardly, This may be difficult, but it is by no means impossible ; and, as a man of sense never attempts impossibilities on one hand, on the other he is never discouraged by difficulties ; on the contrary, he re- doubles his industry and his diligence, he perseveres, and infallibly prevails at last. In any point, which prudence bids you pursue, and which a manifest utility attends, let difficulties only animate your industry, not deter you from the pursuit. If one way has tailed, try another ; be active, persevere, and you will conquer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flattered, some intimi- dated, and some teased into a thing ; but, in general, all are to be brought into it at last, if skilfully applied to, properly managed, and indefatigably attacked in their several weak places. The time should likewise be judiciously chosen. Every man has his mollia tempora, but that is far from being all day long ; and you would choose your time very ill, if you applied to a man about one business, when his head was full of another, or when his heart was full of grief, auger, or any other disagreeable sentiment. In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own ; for men in general are very much alike ; and though one has one prevailing passion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the same ; and whatever engages or disgusts, pleases or offends you in others, will, mutatis mutandis, engage, disgust, please, or offend others in you. Observe, with the utmost at- tention, all the operations of your own niiud, the nature of your LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 215 own passions, and the various motives that determine your will ; and you may, in a great degree, know all mankind. For in- stance, do you find yourself hurt and mortified, when another makes you feel his superiority, and your own inferiority, in knowledge, parts, rank, or fortune ? You will certainly take great care not to make a person whose goodwill, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, you would gain, feel that superiority in you, in case you have it. If disagreeable in- sinuations, sly sneers, or repeated contradictions tease and irritate you, would you use them where you wished to engage or please ? Surely not ; and I hope you wish to engage, and please, almost universally. The temptation of saying a smart and witty thing, or bon mot, and the malicious applause with which it is com- monly received, has made people who can say them, and, still oftener, people who think they can, but cannot, but yet try, more enemies, and implacable ones too, than any one other thing that I know of. When such things, then, shall happen to be said at your expense (as sometimes they certainly will), reflect seriously upon the sentiments of uneasiness, anger, and resentment, which they excite in you ; and consider whether it can be prudent, by the same means, to excite the same sentiments in others against you. It is a decided folly, to lose a friend for a jest ; but, in my mind, it is not a much less degree of folly, to make an enemy of an indifferent and neutral person for the sake of a bon mot. When things of this kind happen to be said of you, the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose that they are meant at you, but to dissemble and conceal whatever degree of anger you may feel inwardly ; and, should they be so plain, that you cannot be supposed ignorant of their meaning, to join in the laugh of the company against yourself ; acknowledge the hit to be a fail- one, and the jest a good one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humour ; but by no means reply in the same way ; which only shows that you are hurt, and publishes the victory which you might have concealed. Should the thing said, indeed, injure your honour, or moral character, there is but one proper reply ; which I hope you never will have occasion to make. As the female part of the world has some influence, and often too much, over the male, your conduct, with regard to women (I mean women of fashion, for I cannot suppose you capable of '216 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. conversing with any others), deserves some share in your re- flections. They are a numerous and loquacious body; their hatred would be more prejudicial than their friendship can be advantageous to you. A general complaisance, and attention to that sex, is therefore established by custom, and certainly neces- sary. But where you would particularly please any one whose situation, interest, or connections can be of use to you, you must show particular preference. The least attentions please, the greatest charm them. The innocent, but pleasing flattery of their persons, however gross, is greedily swallowed, and kindly digested; but a seeming regard for their understandings, a seeming desire of, and deference for, their advice, together with a seeming confidence in their moral virtues, turns their heads entirely in your favour. Nothing shocks them so much as the least appearance of that contempt, which they are apt to suspect men of entertaining of their capacities ; and you may be very sure of gaining their friendship, if you seem to think it worth gaining. Here dissimulation is very often necessary, and even simulation sometimes allowable ; which, as it pleases them, may be useful to you, and is injurious to nobody. This torn sheet, which I did not observe when I began upon it, as it alters the figure, shortens too the length of my letter. It may very well afford it ; my anxiety for you carries me insensibly to these lengths. I am apt to flatter myself that my experience, at the latter end of my life, may be of use to you at the beginning of yours ; and I do not grudge the greatest trouble if it can procure you the least advantage. I even repeat frequently the same things, the better to imprint them on your young, and, I suppose, yet giddy mind ; and I shall think that part of my time the best employed, that contributes to make you employ yours well. God bless you, child ! XC1X LONDON, June 16, OS. 1749. DEAR BOY, I do not guess where this letter will find you, but I hope it will find you well : I direct it eventually to Laybach ; from whence, I suppose, you have taken care to have your letters sent after you. I received no account from Mr. Harte by last post, and the mail LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 217 due this day is not come in ; so that my informations come down no lower than the 2nd June, N.S., the date of Mr. Harte's last letter. As I am now easy about your health, I am only curious about your motions, which I hope have been either to Inspruck or Verona ; for I disapprove extremely of your proposed long and troublesome journey to Switzerland. Wherever you may be, I recommend to you, to get as much Italian as you can before you go either to Rome or Naples : a little will be of great use to you upon the road; and the knowledge of the grammatical part, which you can easily acquire in two or three months, will not only facilitate your progress, but accelerate your perfection in that language, when you go to those places where it is generally spoken, as Naples, Rome, Florence, etc. Should the state of your health not yet admit of your usual application to books, you may in a great degree, and I hope you will, repair that loss by useful and instructive conversations with Mr. Harte; you may, for example, desire him to give you in conversation the outlines, at least, of Mr. Locke's Logic ; a general notion of Ethics, and a verbal epitome of Rhetoric ; of all which, Mr. Harte will give you clearer ideas in half an hour by word of mouth, than the books of most of the dull fellows who have written upon those subjects would do in a week. I have waited so long for the post, which I hoped would come, that the post, which is just gone out, obliges me to cut this letter short. God bless you, my dear child, and restore you soon to perfect health ! My compliments to Mr. Harte, to whose care your life is the least thing that you owe. 0. LONDON, June 22, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, The outside of your letter of the 7th, N.S., directed by your own hand, gave me more pleasure than the inside of any other letter ever did. I received it yesterday, at the same time with one from Mr. Harte, of the 6th. They arrived at a very proper time, for they found a consultation of physicians in my room, upou account of a fever which I had for four or five days, but which has now entirely left me. As Mr. Harte says, that your 218 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. lungs, now and then, give you a little paiu ; and that your swellings come and go variably; but, as he mentions nothing of your coughing, spitting, or sweating, the doctors take it for granted that you are entirely free from those three bad symptoms ; and from thence conclude, that the pain which you sometimes feel upon the lungs, is only symptomatical of your rheumatic disorder, from the pressure of the muscles, which hinders the free play of the lungs. But, however, as the lungs are a point of the utmost importance and delicacy, they insist upon your drinking, in all events, asses' milk twice a day, and goats' whey as often as you please, the oftener the better : in your common diet they recom- mend an attention to pectorals, such as sago, barley, turnips, etc. These rules are equally good in rheumatic, as in consumptive cases ; you will therefore, I hope, strictly observe them ; for I take it for granted you are above the silly likings or dislikings, in which silly people indulge their tastes at the expense of their healths. I approve of your going to Venice, as much as I disapprove of your going to Switzerland. I suppose that you are by this time arrived, and, in that supposition, I direct this letter there. But if you should find the heat too great, or the weather offensive at this time of the year, I would have you go immediately to Verona, und stay there till the great heats are over, before you return to Venice. The time you will probably pass at Venice will allow you to make yourself master of that intricate and singular form of government, which few of our travellers know anything of. Read, ask, and see everything that is relative to it. There are likewise many valuable remains of the remotest antiquity, and many fine pieces of the antico moderno ; all which deserve a difftrent sort of attention from that which your countrymen commonly give them. They go to see them as they go to see the lions, and Kings on horseback, at the Tower here ; only to say that they have seen them. You will, I am sure, view them in another light ; you will consider them as you would a poem, to which indeed they are akin. You will observe whether the sculptor has animated his stone, or the painter his canvas, into the just expression of those sentiments and passions which should characterize and mark their several figures. You will examine LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 219 likewise whether, in their groups, there be an unity of action or proper relation ; a truth of dress and manners. Sculpture and painting are very justly called liberal arts ; a lively and strong imagination, together with a just observation, being absolutely necessary to excel in either ; which, in my opinion, is by no means the case of music, though called a liberal art, and now in Italy placed even above the other two : a proof of the decline of that country. The Venetian school produced many great painters, such as Paul Veronese, Titian, Palma, etc., by whom you will see, as well in private houses as in churches, very fine pieces. The Last Supper, by Paul Veronese, in the church of St. George, is reckoned his capital performance, and deserves your attention ; as also does the famous picture of the Cornaro family by Titian. A taste of sculpture and painting is in my mind as becoming as a taste of fiddling and piping is unbecoming a man of fashion. The former is connected with history and poetry, the latter with nothing that I know of but bad company. Learn Italian as fast as ever you can, that you may be able to understand it tolerably, and speak it a little, before you go to Rome and Naples. There are many good historians in that language, and excellent translations of the ancient Greek and Latin authors, which are called the Collana : but the only two Italian poets that deserve your acquaintance are Ariosto and Tasso, and they undoubtedly have great merit. Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have consulted about his leg ; and that, if it was only a sprain, he ought to keep a tight bandage about the part for a considerable time, do nothing else to it. Adieu ! Jubeo te bene valere. 01. LONDON, July 6, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, As I am now no longer in pain about your health, which I trust is perfectly restored, and as, by the various accounts I have had of you, I need not be in pain about your learning, our cor- respondence may for the future turn upon less important points, comparatively, though still very important ones ; I mean, the knowledge of the world, decorum, manners, address, and all those 220 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. (commonly called little) accomplishments, which are absolutely necessary to give greater accomplishments their full value and lustre. Had I the admirable ring of Gyges, which rendered the wearer invisible ; and had I, at the same time, those magic powers, which were very common formerly, but are now very scarce, of trans- porting myself by a wish to any given place ; my first expedition would be to Venice, there to reconnoitre you unseen myself. I would first take you in the morning at breakfast with Mr. Harte, and attend to your natural and unguarded conversation with him ; from whence I think I could pretty well judge of your natural turn of mind. How I should rejoice if I overheard you asking him pertinent questions upon useful subjects, or making judicious reflections upon the studies of that morning or the occurrences of the former day ! Then I would follow you into the different companies of the day, and carefully observe in what manner you presented yourself to, and behaved yourself with, men of sense and dignity : whether your address was respectful and yet easy, your air modest and yet unembarrassed : and I would at the same time penetrate into their thoughts, in order to know whether your first abord made that advantageous impression upon their fancies, which a certain address, air, and manners never fail doing. I would afterwards follow you to the mixed companies of the evening, such as assemblies, suppers, etc., and there watch if you trifled gracefully and genteelly ; if your good-breeding and politeness made way for your parts and knowledge. With what pleasure should I hear people cry out, Che garbato cavaliere, com* e pulitoy disinvolto, spiritoso ! If all these things turned out to my mind, I would immediately assume my own shape, become visible, and embrace you : but, if the contrary happened, I would preserve my invisibility, make the best of my way home again, and sink my disappointment upon you and the world. As unfortunately these supernatural powers of genii, fairies, sylphs, and gnomes have had the fate of the oracles they succeeded, and have ceased for some time, I must- content myself (till we meet naturally and in the common way) with Harte's written accounts of you, and the verbal ones which I now and then receive from people who have seen you. How- ever, I believe it would do you no harm if you would always LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 2'21 imagine that I was present, and saw and heard everything you did and said. There is a certain concurrence of various little circumstances, which compose what the French call I'aimable, and which, now you are entering into the world, you ought to make it your particular study to acquire. Without them, your learning will be pedantry; your conversation often improper always un- pleasant ; and your figure, however good in itself, awkward and unengaging. A diamond, while rough, has indeed its intrinsic value; but, till polished, is of no use, and would neither be sought for nor worn. Its great lustre, it is true, proceeds from its solidity and strong cohesion of parts; but, without the last polish, it would remain for ever a dirty rough mineral, in the cabinets of some few curious collectors. You have, I hope, that solidity and cohesion of parts ; take now as much pains to get the lustre. Good company, if you make the right use of it, will cut you into shape, and give you the true brilliant; polish. A propos of diamonds : I have sent you, by Sir James Gray, the King's minister, who will be at Venice about the middle of September, my own diamond buckles, which are fitter for your young feet than for my old ones : they will probably adorn you they would only expose me. if Sir James finds anybody whom he can trust, and who will be at Venice before him, he will send them by that person ; but if he should not, and that you should be gone from Venice before he gets there, he will in that case give them to your banker, Monsieur Cornet, to forward to you, wherever you may then be. You are now of an age at which the adorning your person is not only not ridiculous, but proper and becoming. Negligence would imply, either an indifference about pleasing, or else an insolent security of pleasing, without using those means to which others are obliged to have recourse. A thorough cleanliness in your person is as necessary for your own health, as it is not to be offensive to other people. Washing yourself, and rubbing your body and limbs frequently with a flesh-brush, will conduce as much to health as to cleanliness. A particular attention to the cleanliness of your mouth, teeth, hands, and nails, is but common decency, in order not to offend people's eyes and noses. I send you here enclosed a letter of recommendation to the 222 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Duke of Nivernois, the French Ambassador at Rome,* who is, in my opinion, one of the prettiest men I ever knew in my life. I do not know a better model for you to form yourself upon : pray observe and frequent him as much as you can. He will show you what manners and graces are. I shall, by successive posts, send you more letters, both for Rome and Naples, where it will be your own fault entirely if you do not keep the very best company. As you will meet swarms of Germans wherever you go, I desire that you will constantly converse with them in their own lan- guage ; which will improve you in that language, and be, at the same time, an agreeable piece of civility to them. Your stay in Italy will, I do not doubt, make you critically master of Italian. I know it may, if you please ; for it is a very regular, and consequently a very easy, language. Adieu ! God bless you 1 OIL LONDON, July 20, O.S. 1749. DBAK BOY, I wrote to Mr. Harte last Monday, the 17th, O.S., in answer to his letter of the 20th June, N.S., which I had received but the day before, after an interval of eight posts, during which I did not know whether you or he existed, and indeed I began to think that you did not. By that letter, you ought at this time to be at Venice, where I hope you are arrived in perfect health, after the baths of Tieffer, in case you have made use of them. I hope they are not hot baths, if your lungs are still tender. Your friend, the Comte d'Einsiedlen, is arrived here ; he has been at my door, and I have been at his, but we have not yet met; he will dine with me some day this week. Comte Lascaris inquires after you very frequently, and with great affection. * Louis Jules Mancini, Due de Mvernois, afterwards Ambassador to England. See Letter of 7 Dec., 1762. Besides the " manners and graces " for which Lord Chesterfield extols him, he was remarkable for combining, like Lord Chesterfield himself, though in a much less eminent degree, literary taste with political distinction. M. He wrote poetical imitations of Virgil, Horace, Ovid, Ariosto, and Milton. He was imprisoned in the French Revolution by the Republicans in 1793. He was born in Paris, 1716, and died 1798. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 223 Pray answer the letter which I forwarded to you a great while ago from him. You may enclose your answer to me, and I will take care to give it him. Those attentions ought never to be omitted : they cost little, and please a great deal ; but the neglect of them offends more than you can yet imagine. Great merit, or great failings, will make you respected or despised ; but trifles, little attentions, mere nothings, either done or neglected, will make you either liked or disliked, in the general run of the world. Examine yourself, why you like such and such people, and dislike such and such others, and you will find that those different sentiments proceed from very slight causes. Moral virtues are the foundation of society in general, and of friendship in particular; but attentions, manners, and graces both adorn and strengthen them. My heart is so set npon your pleasing, and consequently succeeding, in the world, that pos- sibly I have already (and probably shall again) repeat the same things over and over to you. However, to err, if I do err, on the surer side, I shall continue to communicate to you those observations upon the world which long experience has enabled me to make, and which I have generally found to hold true. Your youth and talents, armed with my experience, may go a great way ; and that armour is very much at your service, if you please to wear it. I premise that it is not my imagination, but my memory, that gives you these rules. I am not writing pretty, but useful reflections. A man of sense soon discovers, because he carefully observes, where, and how long, he is welcome, and takes care to leave the company, at least, as soon as he is wished out of it. Fools never perceive where they are either ill-timed or ill-placed. I am this moment agreeably stopped in the course of my re- flections by the arrival of Mr. Harte's letter of the 13th July, N.S., to Mr. Grevenkop, with one enclosed for your Mamma. I find by it, that many of his and your letters to me must have miscarried ; for he says that I have had regular accounts of you. Whereas all those accounts have been only his letter of the 6th and yours of the 7th June, N.S. ; his of the 20th June, N.S., to me; and now his of the 13th July, N.S., to Mr. Grevenkop. However, since you are so well as Mr. Harte says you are, all is well. I am extremely glad you have no complaint upon your 224 LORD CHESTERFIELD ; S LETTEBS. lungs, but I desire that you will think you have for three or four months to coine. Keep in a course of asses' or goats' milk, for one is as good as the other, and possibly the latter is the best ; and let your common food be as pectoral as you can conveniently make it. Pray tell Mr. Harte that, according to his desire, I have wrote a letter of thanks to Mr. Firmian. I hope you write to him too, from time to time. The letters of recommendation of a man of his merit and learning will, to be sure, be of great use to you among the learned world in Italy ; that is, provided you take care to keep up to the character he gives you in them, otherwise they will only add to your disgrace. Consider that you have lost a good deal of time by your ill- ness ; fetch it up now you are well. At present you should be a good economist of your moments, of which company and sights will claim a considerable share ; so that those whicli remain for study must be not only attentively, but greedily em- ployed. But indeed I do not suspect you of one single moment's idleness in the whole day. Idleness is only the refuge of weak minds, and the holiday of fools. I do not call good company and liberal pleasures, idleness ; far from it I recommend to you a good share of both. I send you here enclosed a letter for Cardinal Alexander Albani,* which you will give him as soon as you can get to Rome, and before you deliver any others; the Purple expects that preference : go next to the Due de Nivernois, to whom you are recommended by several people at Paris, as well as by myself. Then you may carry your other letters occasionally. Remember to pry narrowly into every part of the government of Venice ; inform yourself of the History of that Republic, especi- ally of its most remarkable eras ; such as the Ligue de Cambray, in 1509, by which it had like to have been destroyed ; and the conspiracy formed by the Marquis de Bedmar, the Spanish Ambassador, to subject it to the Crown of Spain. The famous disputes between that Republic and the Pope are worth your * There were two Cardinal Albania at the same time, uncle and nephew. Alexander, born 1692, died 1779. In 1762 his collection of draw- ings and engravings, 300 volumes, was purchased by George III. John Francis was born in 1720, and created Cardinal in 1747 ; his property was plundered when the French entered Rome ; he died in 1803. LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 225 knowledge ; and the writings of the celebrated and learned Fr& Paolo di Sarpi, upon that occasion, worth your reading. It was once the greatest commercial power in Europe, and, in the 14th and 15th centuries, made a considerable figure; but at present its commerce is decayed, and its riches consequently decreased ; and, far from meddling now with the affairs of the continent, it owes its security to its neutrality and inefficacy ; and that security will last no longer than till one of the great powers in Europe engrosses the rest of Italy ; an event which this century possibly may, but which the next probably will, see. , Your friend Comte d'Einsiedlen, and his Governor, have been with me this moment, and delivered me your letter from Berlin, of February the 28th, N.S. I like them both so well, that I am glad you did ; and still more glad to hear what they say of you. Go on, and continue to deserve the praises of those who deserve praises themselves. Adieu ! I break open this letter to acknowledge yours of the 30th June, N.S., which I have but this instant received, though thirteen days antecedent in date to Mr. Harte's last. I never in my life heard of bathing four hours a day ; and I am impatient to hear of your safe arrival at Venice, after so extraordinary an opera- tion. cm. LONDON, July 30, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, Mr. Harte's letters and yours drop in upon me most irregu- larly ; for I received by the last post, one from Mr. Harte, of the 9th, N.S., and that which Mr. Grevenkop had received from him the post before, was of the 13th; at last, I suppose, I shall receive them all. I am very glad that my letter, with Dr. Shaw's opinion, has lessened your bathing; for, since I was born, I never heard of bathing four hours a day, which would surely be too much, even in Medea's kettle, if you wanted (as you do not yet) new boiling. Though, in that letter of mine, I proposed your going to Inspruck, it was only in opposition to Lausanne, which I thought VOL. I. Q 226 LOJLli ( i.KSTKKFIELD's LETTERS. much too long and painful a journey for you; but you will have found, by my subsequent letters, that I entirely approve of Venice, where I hope you have now been some time, and which is a much better place for you to reside at, till you go to Naples, than either Tieffer or Laybach. I love capitals ex- tremely ; it is in capitals that the best company is always to be found ; and, consequently, the best manners to be learned. The very best provincial places have some awkwardnesses, that dis- tinguish their manners from those of the metropolis. A propos of capitals ; 1 send you here two letters of recommendation to Naples, from Monsieur Finochetti, the Neapolitan minister at the Hague ; and in my next I shall send you two more, from the same person to the same place. I have examined Count Einsiedlen so narrowly concerning you, that I have extorted from him a confession, that you du not care to speak German, unless to such as understand no other language. At this rate, you will never speak it well, which I am very desirous that you should do, and of which you would, in time, find the advantage. Whoever has not the command of a language, and does not speak it with facility, will always appear below himself, when he converses in that language; the want of words and phrases will cramp and lame his thoughts. As you now know German enough to express yourself tolerably, speaking it very often will soon make you speak it very well; and then you will appear in it whatever you are. What with your own Saxou servant, and the swarms of Germans you will meet with wherever you go, you may have opportunities of conversing in that language half the day; and I do very seriously desire that you will, or else all the pains you have already taken about it are lost. You will remember, likewise, that, till you cau write in Italian, you are always to write to me in German. Mr. Harte's conjecture concerning your distemper seems to be a very reasonable one ; it agrees entirely with mine, which is the universal rule by which every man judges of another man's opinion. But, whatever may have been the cause of your rheumatic disorder, the effects are still to be attended to ; and as there must be a remaining acrimony in your blood, you ougtit to have regard to that, in your common diet, as well as in your .- both which should be of a sweetening alkaline nature, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 227 and promotive of perspiration. Rheumatic complaints are very apt to return, and those returns would be very vexatious and detrimental to you, at your age, and in your course of travels. Your time is, now particularly, inestimable ; and every hour of it, at present, worth more than a year will be to you twenty years hence. You are now laying the foundation of your future character and fortune ; and one single stone wanting in that foundation, is of more consequence that fifty in the super- structure, which can always, be mended and embellished if the foundation is solid. To carry on the metaphor of building : I would wish you to be a Corinthian edifice, upon a Tuscan foun- dation ; the latter having the utmost strength and solidity to support, and the former all possible ornaments to decorate. The Tuscan column is coarse, clumsy, and unpleasant ; nobody looks at it twice ; the Corinthian fluted column is beautiful and at- tractive ; but, without a solid foundation, can hardly be seen twice, because it must soon tumble down. Yours affectionately. CIV. LONDON, August 7, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, By Mr. Harte's letter to me of the 18th July, N.S., which I received by the last post, I am at length informed of the par- ticulars both of your past distemper, and of your future motions. As to the former, I am now convinced, and so is Doctor Shaw, that your lungs were only symptomatically affected, and that the rheumatic tendency is what you are chiefly now to guard against, but (for greater security) with due attention still to your lungs, as if they had been, and still were, a little affected. In either case, a cooling, pectoral regimen is equally good. By cooling, I mean cooling in its consequences, not cold to the palate; for nothing is more dangerous than very cold liquors, at the very time that one longs for them the most, which is when one is very hot. Fruit, when full ripe, is very wholesome ; but then it must be within certain bounds as to quantity ; for I have known many of my countrymen die of bloody fluxes, by indulging in too great a quantity of fruit, in those countries where, from the goodness and ripeness of it, they thought it could do them no harm. Ne 228 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. quid nvniis, is a most excellent rule in everything ; but commonly the least observed, by people of your age, in anything. As to your future motions, I am very well pleased with them, and greatly prefer your intended stay at Verona to Venice, whose almost stagnating waters must, at this time of the year, corrupt the air. Verona has a pure and clear air, and, as I am informed, a great deal of good company. Marquis Maffei * alone would be worth going there for. You may, I think, very well leave Verona about the middle of September, when the great heats will be quite over, and then make the best of your way to Naples, where, I own, I want to have you, by way of precaution (I hope it is rather over-caution) in case of the least remains of a pulmonic disorder. The amphitheatre at Verona is worth your attention ; as are also many buildings there and at Vicenza, of the famous Andrea Palladio,t whose taste and style of building were truly antique. It would not be amiss, if you employed three or four days in learning the five Orders of Architecture, with their general proportions j and you may know all that you need know of them in that time. Palladio's own book of Architecture is the best you can make use of for that purpose, skipping over the lowest mechanical parts of it, such as the materials, the cement, etc. Mr. Harte tells me, that your acquaintance with the classics is renewed ; the suspension of which has been so short, that I dare say it has produced no coldness. I hope, and believe, you are now so much master of them, that two hours every day, unin- terruptedly, for a year or two more, will make you perfectly so ; and I think you cannot now allot them a greater share than that of your time, considering the many other things you have to learn and to do. You must know how to speak and write Italian perfectly ; you must learn some logic, some geometry, and some astronomy, not to mention your exercises where they are to be learnt ; and, above all, you must learn the world, which is not soon learnt, and only to be learnt by frequenting good and various companies. Consider therefore how precious every moment of time is to * The Marquis Scipione Maffei, author of the tragedy of Merope Verona Illustrata, and the Museum Veronense. He was born in Verona in 1675, and died in 1755. f Palladio was born at Vicenza in 1518, and died in 1580. LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 229 you now. The more you apply to your business, the more yon will taste your pleasures. The exercise of the mind in the morning whets the appetite for the pleasures of the evening, as much as the exercise of the body whets the appetite for dinner. Business and pleasure, rightly understood, mutually assist each other, instead of being enemies, as silly or dull people often think them. No man tastes pleasures truly who does not earn them by previous business; and few people do business well, who do nothing else. Remember, that, when I speak of pleasures, I always mean the elegant pleasures of a rational being, and not the brutal ones of a swine. I mean la bonne chere, short of gluttony ; wine, infinitely short of drunkenness ; play, without the least gaming ; and gallantry, without debauchery. There is a line in all these things, which men of sense, for greater security, take care to keep a good deal on the right side of: for sickness, pain, contempt, and infamy lie immediately on the other side of it. Men of sense and merit in all other respects, may have had some of these failings ; but then those few ex- amples, instead of inviting us to imitation, should only put us the more upon our guard against such weaknesses. Whoever thinks them fashionable will not be so himself. I have often known a fashionable man have some one vice ; but I never in my life knew a vicious man a fashionable man. Vice is as degrading as it is criminal. God bless you, my dear child ! CV. LONDON, August 10, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, Let us resume our reflections upon men, their characters, their manners ; in a word, our reflections upon the world. They may help you to form yourself and to know others. A knowledge very useful at all ages, very rare at yours ; it seems as if it were nobody's business to communicate it to young men. Their masters teach them, singly, the languages or the sciences of their several departments ; and are indeed generally incapable of teaching them the world ; their parents are often so too, or at least neglect doing it, either from avocations, indifference, or from an opinion that throwing them into the world (as they call it) is the best way of teaching it them. This last notion is in a 230 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. great degree true ; that is, the world can doubtless never be well known by theory ; practice is absolutely necessary ; but surely, it is of great use to a young man, before he sets out for that country, full of mazes, windings, and turnings, to have at least a general map of it, made by some experienced traveller. There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary, to make even the most valuable character either respected or respectable. Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will sink both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow ; and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. Indiscriminate familiarity either offends your superiors, or else dubs you their dependant, and led captain. It gives your inferiors just, but troublesome and improper claims of equality. A joker is near akin to a buffoon ; and neither of them is the least related to wit. Whoever is admitted or sought for in company, upon any other account than that of his merit and manners, is never respected there, but only made use of. We will have such-a-one, for he sings prettily ; we will invite such-a-one to a ball, for he dances well ; we will have such-a-one at supper, for he is always joking and laughing ; we will ask another, because he plays deep at all games, or because he can drink a great deal. These are all vilifying distinctions, mortifying preferences, and exclude all ideas of esteem and regard. Whoever is had (as it is called) in company for the sake of any one thing singly, is singly that thing, and will never be considered in any other light; con- sequently never respected, let his merits be what they will. This dignity of manners, which I recommend so much to you, is not only as different from pride, as true courage is from bluster- ing, or true wit from joking ; but is absolutely inconsistent with it ; for nothing vilifies and degrades more than pride. The pre- tensions of the proud man are oftener treated with sneer and contempt tlian with indignation ; as we offer ridiculously too little to a tradesman who asks ridiculously too much for his goods, but we do not haggle with one who only asks a just and reasonable price. Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation degrade, as much as indiscriminate contradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 231 modest assertion of one's own opinion, and a complaisant acqui- escence in other people's, preserve dignity. Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and address, vilify ; as they imply, either a very low turn of mind, or low education and low company. Frivolous curiosity about trifles, and a laborious attention to little objects, which neither require nor deserve a moment's thought, lower a man ; who from thence is thought (and not un- justly) incapable of greater matters. Cardinal de Retz, very sagaciously, marked out Cardinal Chigi* for a little mind, from the moment that he told him he had wrote three years with the same pen, and that it was an excellent good one still. A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks and motions, gives dignity, without excluding wit and decent cheerfulness, which are always serious themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and a whiffling activity of the body, are strong indi- cations of futility. Whoever is in a hurry, shows that the thing he is about is too big for him. Haste and hurry are very different things. I have only mentioned some of those things which may and do, in the opinion of the world, lower and sink characters in other respects valuable enough; but I have taken no notice of those that affect and sink the moral characters : they are sufficiently obvious. A man who has patiently been kicked may as well pretend to courage as a man blasted by vices and crimes may to dignity of any kind. But an exterior decency and dignity of manners will even keep such a man longer from sinking than otherwise lie would be : of such consequence is the TO TrpeTrov, even though affected and put on ! Pray read frequently and with the utmost attention ; nay, get by heart, if you can, that incomparable chapter in Cicero's Offices upon the TO trpkirov, or the Decorum. It contains whatever is necessary for the dignity of manners. In my next I will send you a general map of Courts ; a region yet unexplored by you, but which you are one day to inhabit. The ways are generally crooked and full of turnings, sometimes strewed with flowers, sometimes choked up with briers; rotten * Elected Pope in April 1655, under the name of Alexander VII. See Letter CLVIL, 28 Jai*., 1751. 232 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. ground and deep pits frequently lie concealed under a smooth and pleasing surface ; all the paths are slippery, and every slip is dangerous. Sense and discretion must accompany you at your first setting out ; but notwithstanding those, till experience is your guide, you will every now and then step out of your way or stumble. Lady Chesterfield has just now received your German letter, for which she thanks you ; she says the language is very correct, and I can plainly see the character is well formed, not to say better than your English character. Continue to write German frequently, that it may become quite familiar to you. Adieu ! CVI. LONDON, August 21, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, By the last letter that I received from Mr. Harte, of the 31st July, N.S., I suppose you are now either at Venice or Verona, and perfectly recovered of your late illness, which I am daily more and more convinced had no consumptive tendency: how- ever, for some time still, faites comme s'il y en avoit, be regular, and live pectorally. You will soon be at Courts, where though you will not be concerned, yet reflection and observation upon what you see and hear there may be of use to you when hereafter you may come to be concerned in Courts yourself. Nothing in Courts is exactly as it appears to be ; often very different, sometimes directly contrary. Interest, which is the real spring of everything there, equally creates and dissolves friendships, produces and recon- ciles enmities ; or rather, allows of neither real friendships nor enmities ; for, as Dryden very justly observes, Politicians neither love nor hate. This is so true, that you may think you connect yourself with two friends to-day, and be obliged to-morrow to make your option between them as enemies : observe, therefore, such a degree of reserve with your friends as not to put your- self in their power if they should become your enemies ; and such a degree of moderation with your enemies as not to make it impossible for them to become your friends. Courts are unquestionably the seats of politeness and good- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 233 breeding ; were they not so, they would be the seats of slaughter and desolation. Those who now smile upon and embrace, would affront and stab each other if manners did not interpose : but ambition and avarice, the two prevailing passions at Courts, found dissimulation more effectual than violence; and dissimulation introduced that habit of politeness which distinguishes the courtier from the country gentleman. In the former case the strongest body would prevail, in the latter the strongest mind. A man of parts and efficiency need not flatter everybody at Court, but he must take great care to offend nobody personally ; it being in the power of very many to hurt him, who cannot serve him. Homer supposes a chain let down from Jupiter to the earth to connect him with mortals. There is at all Courts a chain which connects the Prince or the Minister with the page of the back-stairs or the chambermaid. The King's wife or mistress has an influence over him ; a lover has an influence over her ; the chambermaid or the valet- de-chambre has an influence over both ; and so f ad infinitum. You must, therefore, not break a link of that chain by which you hope to climb up to the Prince. You must renounce Courts if you will not connive at knaves and tolerate fools ; their number makes them considerable. You should as little quarrel as connect yourself with either. Whatever you say or do at Court, you may depend upon it, will be known ; the business of most of those who crowd levees and antichambers being to repeat all that they see or hear, and a great deal that they neither see nor hear, according as they are inclined to the persons concerned, or according to the wishes of those to whom they hope to make their court. Great caution is therefore necessary ; and if to great caution you can join seeming frankness and openness, you will unite what Machiavel reckons very difficult, but very necessary to be united, volto sciolto e pensieri stretti. Women are very apt to be mingled in Court intrigues ; but they deserve attention better than confidence : to hold by them is a very precarious tenure. I am agreeably interrupted in these reflections by a letter which I have this moment received from Baron Firmian. It contains your panegyric, and with the strongest protestations imaginable, that he does you only justice. I received this favour- 234 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. able account of you with pleasure, and I communicate it to you with as much. While you deserve praise, it is reasonable you should know that you meet with it; and I make no doubt but it will encourage you in persevering to deserve it. This is one paragraph of the Baron's letter : " Ses moeurs dans un age si tendre, realees selon tontes les loix d'une morale exacte et sensee, son application (that is what I like) a tout ce qui s'appelle etude serieuse, et Belles Lettrea, eloignee de I'ombre meme d'un faste pedantesque, le rendent ires-digue de vos tendres soins ; et j'ai I'honneur de vous assurer que chacun se louera beaucoup de son commerce aise, et de son amitie : fen ai profits avec plaisir id et a Vienne, et je me crois tres-heureux de la permission, qu'il m'a accordee de la continuer par la vo'ie de lettres." Reputation, like health, is preserved and increased by the same means by which it is acquired. Continue to desire and deserve praise, and you will certainly find it; knowledge adorned by manners will infallibly procure it. Consider that you have but a little way farther to get to your journey's end; therefore, for God's sake, do not slacken your pace : one year and a half more of sound application, Mr. Harte assures me, will finish his work ; and, when his work is finished well, your own will be very easily done afterwards. Les Manieres et les Graces are no immaterial parts of that work ; and I beg that you will give as much of your attention to them as to your books. Everything depends upon them: senza di noi ogni fatica e vana. The various com- panies you now go into will procure them you, if you will care- fully observe, and form yourself upon, those who have them. Adieu ! God bless you ! and may you ever deserve that affection with which I am now Yours ! CVII. LONDON, September 5, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, I have received yours from Lay bach, of the 1 7th of August, N.S., with the enclosed for Comte Lascaris, which I have given him, and with which he is extremely pleased, as I am with your account of Carniola. I am very glad that you attend to, and inform yourself of, the political objects of the countries you go LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 235 through. Trade and manufactures are very considerable, not to say the most important ones ; for, though armies and navies are the shining marks of the strength of countries, they would bo very ill paid, and consequently fight very ill, if manufactures and commerce did not support them. You have certainly observed in Germany the inefficiency of great Powers, with great tracts of country and swarms of men, which are absolutely useless, if not paid by other Powers, who have the resources of manufactures and commerce. This we have lately experienced to be the case of the two Empresses of Germany and Russia. England, Prance, and Spain must pay their respective allies, or they may as well be without them. I have not the least objection to your taking into the bargain the observation of natural curiosities : they are very welcome, provided they do not take up the room of better things. But the forms of government, the maxims of policy, the strength or weak- ness, the trade and commerce, of the several countries you see or hear of, are the important objects which I recommend to your most minute inquiries and most serious attention. I thought that the republic of Venice had by this time laid aside that silly and frivolous piece of policy, of endeavouring to conceal their form of government, which anybody may know, pretty nearly, by taking the pains to read four or five books, which explain all the great parts of it; and as for some of the little wheels of that machine, the knowledge of them would be as little useful to others as dangerous to themselves. Their best policy (I can tell them) is to keep quiet, and to offend no one great Power, by joining with another. Their escape after the Ligue of Cambray should prove an useful lesson to them. I am glad you frequent the assemblies at Venice. Have you seen Monsieur and Madame Capello ? and how did they receive you ? Let me know who are the ladies whose houses you frequent the most. Have you seen the Comtesse d'Orselska, Princess of Holstein ? Is Comte Algarotti, who was the tenant there, at Venice ? You will, in many parts of Italy, meet with numbers of the Pretender's people (English, Scotch, and Irish fugitives), especi- ally at Rome, and probably the Pretender himself. It is none of your business to declare war on these people; as little as it is 236 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. your interest, or, I hope, your inclination, to connect yourself with them ; and, therefore, I recommend to you a perfect neutrality. Avoid them as much as you can with decency and good manners ; but, when you cannot, avoid any political con- versations or debates with them: tell them that you do not concern yourself with political matters that you are neither a maker nor a deposer of Kings that, when you left England, you left a King in it, and have not since heard either of his death, or of any revolution that has happened, and that you take Kings and kingdoms as you find them ; but enter no farther into matters with them, which can be of no use, and might bring on heat and quarrels. When you speak of the old Pre- tender, you will call him only the Chevalier de St. George, but mention him as seldom as possible. Should he chance to speak to you at any assembly (as, I am told, he sometimes does to the English), be sure that you seem not to know him ; and answer him civilly, but always either in French or in Italian ; and give him, in the former, the appellation of Monsieur, and in the latter of Signore. Should you meet with the Cardinal of York,* you will be under no difficulty, for he has, as Cardinal, an undoubted right to Eminenza. Upon the whole, see any of those people as little as possible ; when you do see them, be civil to them, upon the footing of strangers ; but never be drawn into any alterca- tions with them about the imaginary right of their King as they call him. It is to no sort of purpose to talk to those people of the natural rights of mankind, and the particular constitution of this country. Blinded by prejudices, soured by misfortunes, and tempted by their necessities, they are as incapable of reasoning rightly as they have hitherto been of acting wisely. The late Lord Pembroke never would know anything that he had not a mind to know ; and, in this case, I advise you to follow his example. Never know either the father or the two sons,f * Henry, the second son of the Pretender (James), was raised to the Purple in July, 1747, with the title of Cardinal York. After the decease of Charles Edward in 1788, a medal was struck in his name as Henry the Ninth, King of England, with the motto (which he had assumed even as Cardinal), NON DESIDEBJIS HOMINUM SED VOI/CNTATE DEI. He died in Rome 1807, having for many years received a pension from George III. f James died in 1765 ; and Charles Edward lived in Venice, in Paris, LOED CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. 237 any otherwise than as foreigners ; and so, not knowing their pretensions, you have no occasion to dispute them. I can never help recommending to you the utmost attention and care to acquire les manieres, la tournure, et les Graces, d'un galant homme, et d'un homme de Cour. They should appear in every look, in every action in your address, and even in your dress, if you would either please or rise in the world. That you may do both (and both are in your power) is most ardently wished you, by Yours. P.S. I made Comte Lascaris show me your letter, which I liked very well; the style was easy and natural, and the French pretty correct. There were so few faults in the orthography, that a little more observation of the best French authors will make you a correct master of that necessary language. I will not conceal from you that I have lately had extraordinary good accounts of you, from an unsuspected and judicious person, who promises me that, with a little more of the world, your manners and address will equal your knowledge. This is the more pleasing to me, as those were the two articles of which I was the most doubtful. These commendations will not, I ara persuaded, make you vain and coxcombical, but only encourage you to go on in the right way. CVIII. LONDON, September 12, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, It seems extraordinary, but it is very true, that my anxiety for you increases iu proportion to the good accounts which I receive of you from all hands. I promise myself so much from you, that I dread the least disappointment. You are now so near the port, which I have so long wished and laboured to bring you safe into, that my concern would be doubled, should you be shipwrecked within sight of it. The object, therefore, of this letter is (laying aside all the authority of a parent) to conjure you as a friend, by the affection you have for me (and surely you and, after his father's death, in Borne and Florence, and died in Home in 1788. 238 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. have reason to have some), and by the regard you have for yourself, to go on, with assiduity and attention, to complete that work, which of late you have carried on so well, and which is now so near being finished. My wishes and my plan were to make you shine, and distinguish yourself equally in the learned and the polite world. Few have been able to do it. Deep learning is generally tainted with pedantry, or at least unadorned by manners; as, on the other hand, polite manners, and the turn of the world, are too often unsupported by knowledge, and con- sequently end contemptibly in the frivolous dissipation of drawing-rooms and ruelles. You are now got over the dry and difficult parts of learning ; what remains, requires much more time than trouble. You have lost time by your illness ; you must regain it now or never. I therefore most earnestly desire, for your own sake, that, for these next six months, at least six hours every morning, uninterruptedly, may be inviolably sacred to your studies with Mr. Harte. I do not know whether he will require so much, but I know that I do, and hope you will, and consequently prevail with him to give you that time : I own it is a good deal ; but when both you and he consider that the work will be so much better and so much sooner done by such an assiduous and con- tinued application, you will neither of you think it too much, and each will find his account in it. So much for the mornings, which, from, your own good sense, and Mr. Harte's tenderness and care of you, will, I am sure, be thus well employed. It is not only reasonable, but useful too, that your evenings should be devoted to amusements and pleasures ; and therefore I not only allow but recommend, that they should be employed at assem- blies, balls, spectacles, and in the best companies ; with this restriction only, that the consequences of the evenings' diversions may not break in upon the mornings' studies, by breakfastings, visits, and idle parties into the country. At your age, you need not be ashamed, when any of these morning parties are proposed, to say you must beg to be excused, for you are obliged to devote your mornings to Mr. Harte ; that I will have it so ; and that you dare not do otherwise. Lay it all upon me; though I am persunded it will be as much your own inclination as it is mine. Bu 1 those frivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 239 own hands, and who desire to make others lose theirs too, are not to be reasoned with ; and indeed it would be doing them too much honour. The shortest, civil answers are the best; lean- not, I dare not, instead of I will not ; for, if you were to enter with them into the necessity of study, and the usefulness of knowledge, it would only furnish them with matter for their silly jests ; which, though I would not have you mind, I would not have you invite. I will suppose you at Rome, studying six hours uninterruptedly with Mr. Harte every morning, and passing your evenings with the beet company of Rome, observing their manners and forming your own ; and I will suppose a number of idle, sauntering, illiterate English, as there commonly is there, living entirely with one another, supping, drinking, and sitting up late at each others' lodgings ; commonly in riots and scrapes when drunk ; and never in good company when sober. I will take one of these pretty fellows, and give you the dialogue between him and your- self; such as I dare say it will be on his side, and such as I hope it will be on yours. Englishman. Will you come and breakfast with me to- morrow ? there will be four or five of our countrymen ; we have provided chaises, and we will di'ive somewhere out of town after breakfast. Stanhope. I am very sorry I cannot ; but I am obliged to be at home all morning. Englishman. Why then, we will come and breakfast with you. Stanhope. I can't do that neither, I am engaged. Englishman. Well, then, let it be the next day. Stanhope. To tell you the truth, it can be no day in the morning ; for I neither go out, nor see anybody at home before twelve. Englishman. And what the devil do you do with yourself till twelve o'clock ? Stanhope. I am not by myself, I am with Mr. Harte. Englishman. Then what the devil do you do with him ? Stanhope. We study different things ; we read, we converse. Englishman. Very pretty amusement, indeed ! Are you to take orders, then ? Stanhope. Yes ; my father's orders, I believe, I must take. 240 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Englishman. Why, hast thou no more spirit than to mind an old fellow a thousand miles off ? Stanhope. If I don't mind his orders, he won't mind my draughts. Englishman. What ! does the old prig threaten, then ? threatened folks live long; never mind threats. Stanhope. No, I can't say he has ever threatened me in his life ; but I believe I had best not provoke him. Englishman. Pooh ! you would have one angry letter from the old fellow, and there would be an end of it. Stanhope. You mistake him mightily ; he always does more than he says. He has never been angry with me yet, that I remember, in his life j but, if I were to provoke him, I am sure he would never forgive me: he would be coolly immovable, and I might beg and pray, and write my heart out, to no pur- pose. Englishman. Why, then, he is an old dog, that's all I can say ; and pray, are you to obey your dry-nurse too, this same what's his name Mr. Harte ? Stanhope. Yes. Englishman. So, he stuffs you all morning with Greek, and Latin, and Logic, and all that. Egad, I have a dry-nurse too, but I never looked into a book with him in my life ; I have not so much as seen the face of him this week, and don't, care a louse if I never see it again. Stanhope. My dry-nurse never desires anything of me that is not reasonable, and for my own good ; and therefore I like to be with him. Englishman. Very sententious and edifying, upon my word 1 At this rate you will be reckoned a very good young man. Stanhope. Why, that will do me no harm. Englishman. Will you be with us to-morrow in the evening, then ? We shall be ten, with you; and I have got some excel- lent good wine, and we'll be very merry. Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am engaged for all the evening, to-morrow ; first at Cardinal Albani's, and then to sup at the Venetian Ambassadress's. Englishman. How the devil can you like being always with these foreigners ? I never go amongst them, with all their for- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 241 malities and ceremonies. I am never easy in company with them, and I don't know why, but I am ashamed. Stanhope. I am neither ashamed nor afraid ; I am very easy with them, they are very easy with me ; I get the language, and I see their characters by conversing with them ; and that is what we are sent abroad for. Is it not ? Englishman. I hate your modest women's company your woman of fashion as they call 'em. I don't know what to say to them, for my part. Stanhope. Have you ever conversed with them ? Englishman. No, I never conversed with them, but I have been sometimes in their company, though much against my will. Stanhope. But at least they have done you no hurt ; which is, "probably, more than you can say of the women you do converse with. Englishman. That's true, I own ; but, for all that, I would rather keep company with my surgeon half the year, than with your women of fashion the year round. Stanhope. Tastes are different, you know, and every man follows his own. Englishman. That's true ; but thine's a devilish odd one, Stanhope. AH morning with thy dry-nurse, all the evening in formal fine company, and all day long afraid of old daddy in England. Thou art a queer fellow, and I am afraid there's nothing to be made of thee. Stanhope. I am afraid so too. Englishman. Well, then, good night to you; you have no objection, I hope, to my being drunk to-night, which I certainly will be. Stanhope. Not in the least ; nor to your being sick to-morrow, which you as certainly will be ; and so good night too. You will observe that I have not put intp your mouth those good arguments, which upon such an occasion would, I am sure, occur to you ; as, piety and affection toward me ; regard and friendship for Mr. Harte ; respect for your own moral character, and for all the relative duties of man, son, pupil, and citizen. Such solid arguments would be thrown away upon such shallow puppies. Leave them to their ignorance, and to their dirty, dis- VOL. I, B 242 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. graceful vices. They will severely feel the effects of them, when it will be too late. Without the comfortable refuge of learning, and with all the sickness and pains of a ruined stomach and a rotten carcase, if they happen to arrive at old age, it is an uneasy and ignominious one. The ridicule which such fellows endeavour to throw upon those who are not like them, is, in the opinion of all men of sense, the most authentic panegyric. Go on, then, my dear child, in the way you are in, only for a year and a half more ; that is all I ask of you. After that I promise that you shall be your own master, and that I will pretend to no other title than that of your best and truest friend. You shall receive advice, but no orders, from me ; and in truth you will want no other advice but such as youth and inexperience must necessarily require. You shall certainly want nothing that is requisite, not only for your conveniency, but also for your plea- sures, which I always desire should be gratified. You will sup- pose that I mean the pleasures d'un honnete homme. While you are learning Italian, which I hope you do with diligence, pray take care to continue your German, which you may have frequent opportunities of speaking. I would also have you keep up your knowledge of the Jus Publicum Imperil, by looking over, now and then, those inestimable manuscripts, which Sir Charles Williams, who arrived here last week, assures me you have made upon that subject. It will be of very great use to you, when you come to be concerned in foreign affairs, as you shall be (if you qualify yourself for them) younger than ever any other was ; I mean, before you are twenty. Sir Charles tells me that he will answer for your learning ; and that he believes you will acquire that address, and those Graces, which are so necessary to give it its full lustre and value. But he confesses that he doubts more of the latter than of the former. The justice which he does Mr. Harte, in his panegyrics of him, makes me hope that there is likewise a great deal of truth in his encomiums of you. Are you pleased with, and proud of, the reputation which you have al- ready acquired ? Surely you are, for I am sure I am. Will you do anything to lessen or forfeit it ? Surely you will not. And will you not do all you can to extend and increase it ? Surely you will. It is only going on for a year and a half longer, as you have gone on for the two years last past, and devoting half LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 243 the day only to application, and you will be sure to make the earliest figure and fortune in the world, that ever man made. Adieu 1 CIX. LONDON, September 22, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, If I have faith in philters and love potions, I should suspect that you had given Sir Charles Williams some, by the manner in which he speaks of you, not only to me, but to everybody else. I will not repeat to you what he says of the extent and correct- ness of your knowledge, as it might either make you vain, or per- suade you that you had already enough of what nobody can have too much. You will easily imagine how many questions I asked, and how narrowly I sifted him upon your subject ; he answered me, and I dare say with truth, just as I could have wished ; till, satisfied entirely with his accounts of your character and learn- ing, I inquired into other matters, intrinsically indeed of less consequence, but still of great consequence to every man, and of more to you than to almost any man; I mean, your address, manners, and air. To these questions, the same truth which he had observed before, obliged him to give me much less satis- factory answers. And, as he thought himself, in friendship both to you and me, obliged to tell me the disagreeable as well as the agreeable truths, upon the same principle I think myself obliged to repeat them to you. He told me, then, that in company you were frequently most provokingly inattentive, absent, and distrait. That you came into a room, and presented yourself very awkwardly ; that at table you constantly threw down knives, forks, napkins, bread, etc., and that you neglected your person and dress, to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much more so at yours. These things, however immaterial soever they may seem to people who do not know the world and the nature of mankind, give me, who know them to be exceedingly material, very great concern. I have long distrusted you, and therefore frequently admonished you upon these articles ; and I tell you plainly, that I shall not be easy till I hear a very different account of them. I know no one thing more offensive to a company, than that inat- 244 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. tention and distraction. It is showing them the utmost contempt; and people never forgive contempt. No man is distrait with the man he fears, or the women he loves ; which is a proof that every man can get the better of that distraction when he thinks it worth his while to do so ; and, take my word for it, it is always worth his while. For my own part, I would rather be in company with a dead man than with an absent one ; for if the dead man gives me no pleasure, at least he shows me no contempt ; where- as the absent man, silently indeed, but very plainly, tells me that he does not think me worth his attention. Besides, can an absent man make any observations upon the characters, customs, and manners of the company ? No. He may be in the best companies all his lifetime (if they will admit him, which, if I were they, I would not), and never be one jot the wiser. I never will converse with an absent man; one may as well talk to a deaf one. It is, in truth, a practical blunder, to address ourselves to a man who we see plainly neither hears, minds, nor understands us. Moreover, I aver that no man is, in any degree, fit for either business or conversation, who cannot, and does not, direct and command his attention to the present object, be that what it will. You know, by experience, that I grudge no expense in your education, but I will positively not keep you a flapper. You may read, in Dr. Swift, the description of these flappers, and the use they were to your friends the Laputans ; whose minds (Gulliver says) are so taken up with intense speculations, that they neither can speak, nor attend to the discourses of others, without being roused by some external action upon the organs of speech and hearing ; for which reason, those people who are able to afford it, always keep a flapper in their family, as one of their domestics, nor ever walk about, or make visits, without him. This flapper is likewise employed diligently to attend his master in his walks, and, upon occasion, to give a soft flap upon his eyes ; because he is always so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in manifest danger of falling down every precipice, and bouncing his head against every post, and, in the streets, of jostling others, or being jostled into the kennel himself. If Christian will undertake this province into the bargain, with all my heart ; but I will not al- low him any increase of wages upon that score. LOUD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTEKS. 245 In short, I give you fair warning, that when we meet, if you are absent in mind, I will soon be absent in body ; for it will be impossible for me to stay in the room ; and if at table you throw down your knife, plate, bread, etc., and hack the wing of a chicken for half an hour, without being able to cut it off, and your sleeve all the time in another dish, I must rise from table to escape the fever you would certainly give me. Good God ! how I should be shocked if you came into my room, for the first time, with two left legs, presenting yourself with all the graces and dignity of a tailor, and your clothes hanging upon you like those in Monmouth Street, upon tenter-hooks ! whereas I expect, nay require, to see you present yourself with the easy and genteel air of a man of fashion who has kept good company. I expect you not only well dressed, but very well dressed; I expect a gracefulness in all your motions, and something particularly engaging in your address. All this I expect, and all this it is in your power, by care and attention, to make me find ; but, to tell you the plain truth, if I do not find it, we shall not converse very much together j for I cannot stand inattention and awkwardness ; it would endanger my health. You have often seen, and I have as often made you observe, L (y ttelton)'s * distinguished inattention and awkwardness. Wrapped up like a Laputan in intense thought, and possibly sometimes in no thought at all ; which, I believe, is very often the case of absent people ; he does not know his most intimate acquaintance by sight, or answers them as if they were at cross purposes. He leaves his hat in one room, his sword in another, and would leave his shoes in a third, if his buckles, though awry, did not save them ; his legs and arms, by his awkward manage- ment of them, seem to have undergone the question extraordi- naire ; and his head, always hanging upon one or other of his shoulders, seems to have received the first stroke upon a block. I sincerely value and esteem him for his parts, learning, and * George, in 1757 created Lord, Lyttelton. His worth and his accom- plishments, his extensive knowledge, and his unsullied probity, were never adorned by the Graces. Horace Walpole says of him, that he had " the figure of a spectre, and the gesticulations of a puppet ! " (Memoirs of George II., vol. i., p. 175.) M. See Letters CXVIL, Nov., 1749, and CLX. Feb. 28th, 1751. 246 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. virtue ; but, for the soul of me, I cannot love him in company. This will be universally the case, in common life, of every inat- tentive, awkward man, let his real merit and knowlege be ever so great. When I was of your age, I desired to shine, as far as I was able, in every part of life ; and was as attentive to my manners, my dress, and my air, in company on evenings, as to my books and my tutor in the mornings. A young fellow should be am- bitious to shine in everything; and, of the two, always rather overdo than underdo. These things are by no means trifles ; they are of infinite consequence to those who are to be thrown into the great world, and who would make a figure or a fortune in it. It is not sufficient to deserve well, one must please well too. Awkward, disagreeable merit, will never carry anybody far. Wherever you find a good dancing-master, pray let him put you upon your haunches; not so much for the sake of dancing, as for coming into a room and presenting yourself genteelly and gracefully. Women, whom you ought to endeavour to please, cannot forgive a vulgar and awkward air and gestures ; il leur faut du brillant. The generality of men are pretty like them, and are equally taken by the same exterior graces. I am very glad that you have received the diamond buckles safe : all I desire in return for them, is, that they may be buckled even upon your feet, and that your stockings may not hide them. I should be sorry you were an egregious fop ; but I protest that, of the two, I would rather have you a fop than a sloven. I think negligence in my own dress, even at my age, when certainly I expect no advantages from my dress, would be indecent with regard to others. I have done with fine clothes ; but I will have my plain clothes fit me, and made like other people's. In the evenings I recommend to you the company of women of fashion, who have a right to attention, and will be paid it. Their company will smooth your manners, and give you a habit of attention and respect ; of which you will find the advantage among men. My plan for you, from the beginning, has been to make you shine, equally in the learned and in the polite world ; the former part is almost completed to my wishes, and will, I am persuaded, in a little time more, be quite so. The latter part is still in your power to complete ; and I flatter myself that you will do it, or LOED CHESTEEFIELD S LETTEES. 247 else the former part will avail you very little ; especially in your department, where the exterior address and graces do half the business; they must be the harbingers of your merit, or your merit will be very coldly received : all can, and do, judge of the former, few of the latter. Mr. Harte tells me that you have grown very much since your illness ; if you get up to five feet ten, or even nine inches, your figure will, probably, be a good one ; and, if well dressed and genteel, will probably please ; which is a much greater advantage to a man than people commonly think. Lord Bacon calls it a letter of recommendation. I would wish you to be the omnis homo, I'homme universel. You are nearer it, if you please, than ever anybody was at your age ; and if you will but, for the course of this next year only, exert your whole attention to your studies in the morning, and to your address, manners, air, and tournure in the evenings, you will be the man I wish you, and the man that is rarely seen. Oar letters go, at best, so irregularly, and so often miscarry totally, that, for greater security, I repeat the same things. So, though I acknowledged by last post Mr. Harte's letter of the 8th September, N.S., I acknowledge it again by this to you. If this should find you still at Verona, let it inform you, that I wish you would set out soon for Naples ; unless Mr. Harte should think it better for you to stay at Verona, or any other place on this side Rome, till you go there for the Jubilee. Nay, if he likes it better, I am very willing that you should go directly fro in Verona to Rome ; for you cannot have too much of Rome, whether upon account of the language, the curiosities, or the company. My only reason for mentioning Naples, is for the sake of the climate, upon account of your health ; but, if Mr. Harte thinks your health is now so well restored as to be above climate, he may steer your course wherever he thinks proper ; and, for aught I know, your going directly to Rome, and consequently staying there so much the longer, may be as well as anything else. I think you and I cannot put our affairs into better hands than in Mr. Harte's ; and I will stake his infallibility against the Pope's, with some odds on his side. A propos of the Pope; remember to be presented to him before you leave Rome, and go 248 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. through the necessary ceremonies for it, whether of kissing his slipper or . . . ; for I would never deprive myself of anything that I wanted to do or see, by refusing to comply with an estab- lished custom. When I was in Roman Catholic countries, I never declined kneeling in their churches at the elevation, nor elsewhere, when the Host went by. It is a complaisance due to the custom of the place, and by no means, as some silly people have imagined, an implied approbation of their doctrine. Bodily attitudes and situations are things so very indifferent in them- selves, that I would quarrel with nobody about them. It may indeed be improper for Mr. Harte to pay that tribute of com- plaisance, upon account of his character. This letter is a very long, and possibly a very tedious one ; but my anxiety for your perfection is so great, and particularly at this critical and decisive period of your life, that I am only afraid of omitting, but never of repeating, or dwelling too long upon anything that I think may be of the least use to you. Have the same anxiety for yourself that I have for you, and all will do well. Adieu, my dear child 1 ex. LONDON, September 27, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, A vulgar, ordinary way of thinking, acting, or speaking, implies a low education, and a habit of low company. Young people contract it at school, or among servants, with whom they are too often used to converse ; but, after they frequent good company, they must want attention and observation very much, if they do not lay it quite aside. And indeed, if they do not, good company will be very apt to lay them aside. The various kinds of vulgarisms are infinite; I cannot pretend to point them out to you ; but I will give some samples, by which you may guess at the rest. A vulgar man is captious and jealous ; eager and impetuous about trifles. He suspects himself to be slighted, thinks every- thing that is said meant at him ; if the company happens to laugh, he is persuaded they laugh at him ; he grows angry and testy, says something very impertinent, and draws himself into a LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 249 scrape, by showing what he calls a proper spirit, and asserting himself. A man of fashion does not suppose himself to be either the sole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or words of the company ; and never suspects that he is either slighted or laughed at, unless he is conscious that he deserves it. And if (which very seldom happens) the company is absurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he does not care two-pence, unless the insult be so gross and plain as to require satisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them ; and, wherever they are concerned, rather acquiesces than wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always savours strongly of the lowness of his education and company. It turns chiefly upon his domestic affairs, his servants, the excellent order he keeps in his own family, and the little anecdotes of the neigh- bourhood ; all which he relates with emphasis, as interesting matters. He is a man gossip. Vulgarism in language is the next, and distinguishing char- acteristic of bad company and a bad education. A man of fashion avoids nothing with more care than that. Proverbial expressions and trite sayings are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say that men differ in their tastes ; he both supports and adorns that opinion, by the good old saying, as he respect- fully calls it, that what is one man'x Meat is another man's Poison. If anybody attempts being smart, as he calls it, upon him, he gives them Tit for Tat, ay, that he does. He has always some favourite word for the time being ; which, for the sake of using often, he commonly abuses: such as vastly angry, vastly kind, vastly handsome, and vastly ugly. Even his pronunciation of proper words carries the mark of the beast along with it. He calls the earth, yearth ; he is obleiged, not obliged, to you. He goes to wards, and not towards, such a place. He sometimes affects hard words by way of ornament, which he always mangles, like a learned woman. A man of fashion never has recourse to proverbs and vulgar aphorisms ; uses neither favourite words nor hard words; but takes great care to speak very correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce properly ; that is, according to the usage of the best companies. An awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions, and a certain left-handiness (if I may use that word) loudly proclaim 250 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. low education and low company ; for it is impossible to suppose that a man can have frequented good company, without having catched something, at least, of their air and motions. A new- raised man is distinguished in a regiment by his awkwardness ; but he must be impenetrably dull, if, in a month or two's time, he cannot perform at least the common manual exercise, and look like a soldier. The very accoutrements of a man of fashion are grievous incumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loss what to do with his hat, when it is not upon his head ; his cane (if un- fortunately he wears one) is at perpetual war with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks ; destroys them first, and then accompanies them in their fall. His sword is formidable only to his own legs, which would possibly carry him fast enough out of the way of any sword but his own. His clothes fit him so ill, and constrain him so much, that he seems rather their prisoner than their pro- prietor. He presents himself in company, like a criminal in a court of justice ; his very air condemns him ; and people of fashion will no more connect themselves with the one, than people of character will with the other. This repulse drives and sinks him into low company ; a gulf from whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged. Les manieres nobles et aisees, la tournure d'un homme de con- dition, le ton de la bonne compagnie, les Graces, le je ne sgais quoi qui plait, are as necessary to adorn and introduce your intrinsic merit and knowledge as the polish is to the diamond ; which, without that polish, would never be worn, whatever it might weigh. Do not imagine that these accomplishments are only useful with women ; they are much more so with men. In a public assembly, what an advantage has a graceful speaker, with genteel motions, a handsome figure, and a liberal air, over one who shall speak full as much good-sense, but destitute of these ornaments ! In business, how prevalent are the Graces, how detrimental is the want of them ! By the help of these I have known some men refuse favours less offensively than others granted them. The utility of them in Courts and negotiations is inconceivable. You gain the hearts, and consequently the secrets, of nine in ten that you have to do with, in spite even of their prudence ; which will, nine times in ten, be the dupe of their hearts and of their senses. Consider the importance of these LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 251 things as they deserve, and you will not lose one moment in the pursuit of them. You are travelling now in a country once so famous both for arts and arms, that (however degenerated at present) it, still deserves your attention and reflection. View it, therefore, with care, compare its former with its present state, and examine into the causes of its rise and its decay. Consider it classically and politically, and do not run through it, as too many of your young countrymen do, musically, and (to use a ridiculous word) Imick- knackically . No piping nor fiddling, I beseech you; no days lost in poring upon almost imperceptible Intaglios and Cameos ; and do not become a Virtuoso of small wares. Form a taste of paint- ing, sculpture, and architecture, if you please, by a careful exami- nation of the works of the best ancient and modern artists ; those are liberal arts, and a real taste and knowledge of them become a man of fashion very well. But, beyond certain bounds, the man of taste ends, and the frivolous Virtuoso begins. Your friend Mendes, the good Samaritan, dined with me yesterday. He has more goodnature and generosity than parts. However, I will show him all the civilities that his idndness to you so justly deserves ; he tells me that you are taller than I am, which I am very glad of. I desire you may excel me in every- thing else too; and, far from repining, I shall rejoice at your superiority. He commends your friend Mr. Stevens extremely ; of whom, too, I have heard so good a character from other people, that I am very glad of your connection with him. It may prove of use to you hereafter. When you meet with such sort of Englishmen abroad, who, either from their parts or their rank, are likely to make a figure at home, I would advise you to cultivate them, and get their favourable testimony of you here, especially those who are to return to England before you. Sir Charles Williams has puffed you '(as the mob call it) here ex- tremely. If three or four more people of parts do the same, before you come back, your first appearance in London will be to great advantage. Many people do, and indeed ought to, take things upon trust; many more do, who need not; and few dare dissent from an established opinion. Adieu ! 252 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. CXI. LONDON, October 2, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, I received by the last post your letter of the 22nd Sep- tember, N.S., but I have not received that from Mr. Harte to which you refer, and which you say contained your reasons for leaving Verona and returning to Venice, so that I am entirely ignorant of them. Indeed, the irregularity and negligence of the post provoke me, as they break the thread of the accounts I want to receive from you, and of the instructions and orders which I send you almost every post. Of these last twenty posts, I am sure that I have wrote eighteen, either to you or to Mr. Harte; and it does not appear by your letter that all, or even any, of my letters have been received. I desire, for the future, that both you and Mr. Harte will constantly, in your letters, mention the dates of mine. Had it not been for their miscarriage, you would not have been in the uncertainty you seem to be in at present with regard to your future motions. Had you received my letters, you would have been by this time at Naples ; but we must now take things where they are. Upon the receipt then of this letter, you will, as soon as con- veniently you can, set out for Rome, where you will not arrive too long before the Jubilee, considering the difficulties of getting lodgings and other accommodations there at this time. I leave the choice of the route to you, but I do by no means intend that you should leave Rome after the Jubilee, as you seem to hint in your letter; on the contrary, I will have Rome your head-quarters for six months at least, till you shall have, in a manner, acquired the jus civitatis there. More things are to be seen and learned there than in any other town in Europe ; there are the best masters to instruct, and the best companies to polish you. In the spring you may make (if you please) frequent excursions to Naples ; but Rome must still be your head-quarters, till the heats of June drive you from thence to some other place in Italy, which we shall think of by that time. As to the expense, which you mention, I do not regard it in the least ; from your infancy to this day, I never grudged any expense in your education, and still less do it now, that it is become more important and decisive. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 253 I attend to the objects of your expenses, but not to the sums. I will certainly not pay one shilling for your losing your nose, your money, or your reason that is, I will not contribute to women, gaming, and drinking; but I will most cheerfully supply, not only every necessary, but every decent expense you can make. I do not care what the best masters cost. I would have you as well dressed, lodged, and attended, as any reasonable man of fashion is in his travels. I would have you have that pocket- money that should enable you to make the proper expense, d'un honnete homme. In short, I bar no expense that has neither vice nor folly for its object ; and, under those two reasonable restric- tions, draw, and welcome. As for Turin, you may go there hereafter, as a traveller, for a month or two ; but you cannot conveniently reside there as an academician, for reasons which I have formerly communicated to Mr. Harte, and which Mr. Villettes,* since his return here, has shown me in a still stronger light than he had done by his letters from Turin, of which I sent copies to Mr. Harte, though probably he never received them. After you have left Rome, Florence is one of the places with which you should be thoroughly acquainted. I know that there is a great deal of gaming there ; but at the same time there are, in every place, some people whose fortunes are either too small, or whose understandings are too good, to allow them to play for anything above trifles; and with those people you will associate yourself, if you have not (as I am assured you have not, in the least) the spirit of gaming in you. Moreover, at suspected places, such as Florence, Turin, and Paris, I shall be more attentive to your draughts, and such as exceed a proper and handsome expense will not be answered, for I can easily know whether you game or not without being told. Mr. Harte will determine your route to Rome, as he shall think best; whether along the coast of the Adriatic, or that of the Mediterranean, it is equal to me ; but you will observe to come back a different way from that you went. * Arthur Villettes, Esq., many years British Resident at the Court of Sardinia ; he died in 1776. He is praised by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, in her letter of April 3, 1758, as one of the very few among our Envoys at that period " who knew how to support his character." M. 254 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Since your health is so well restored, I am not sorry that you are returned to Venice, for I love capitals. Everything is best at capitals the best masters, the best companies, and the best manners. Many other places are worth seeing, but capitals only are worth residing at. I am very glad that Madame Capello received you so well; Monsieur, I was sure, would. Pray assure them both of my respects, and of my sensibility of their kindness to you. Their house will be a very good one for you at Rome, and I would advise you to be domestic in it if you can ; but Madame, I can tell you, requires great attentions. Madame Micheli has written a very favourable account of you to my friend the Abbe Grossa Testa, in a letter which he showed me, and in which there are so many civil things to myself, that I would wish to tell her how much I think myself obliged to her. I approve very much of the allotment of your time at Venice. Pray go on so, for a twelvemonth at least, wherever you are. You will find your own account in it. I like your last letter, which gives me an account of yourself and your own transactions ; for, though I do not recommend the egotism to you with regard to anybody else, I desire that you will use it with me, and with me only. I interest myself in all that you do, and as yet (excepting Mr. Harte) nobody else does. He must, of course, know all, and I desire to know a great deal. I am glad you have received, and that you like, the diamond buckles. I am very willing that you should make, but very unwilling that you should cut, a figure with them at the Jubilee : the cutting a figure being the very lowest vulgarism in the English language, and equal in elegancy to "Yes, my Lady/' and " No, my Lady." The words vast and vastly, you will have found by my former letter that I had proscribed out of the diction of a gentleman, unless in their proper signification of size and bulk. Not only in language, but in everything else, take great care that the first impressions you give of yourself may be not only favourable, but pleasing, engaging nay, seducing. They are often decisive ; I confess they are a good deal so with me ; and I cannot wish for farther acquaintance with a man whose first abord and address displease me. So many of my letters have miscarried, and I know so little which, that I am forced to repeat the same thing over and over LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. 255 again eventually. This is one. I have wrote twice to Mr. Harte to have your picture drawn in miniature, while you were at "Venice, and to send it me in a letter : it is all one to me, whether in enamel or in water-colours, provided it is but very like you. 1 would have you drawn exactly as you are, and in no whimsical dress. I lay more stress upon the likeness of the picture than upon the taste and skill of the painter. If this be not already done, I desire that you will have it done forthwith, before you leave Venice, and enclose it in a letter to me : which letter, for greater security, I would have you desire Sir James Gray to enclose in his packet to the Office, as I, for the same reason, send this under his cover. If the picture be done upon vellum, it will be the most portable. Send me, at the same time, a thread or silk of your own length, exactly. I am solicitous about your figure ; convinced, by a thousand instances, that a good one is a real advantage. Mens sana in corpore sa.no, is the first and greatest blessing ; I would add, et pulchro, to complete it. May you have that and every other ! Adieu ! Have you received my letters of recommendation to Cardinal AJ bam and the Duke de Nivernois, at Home ? CXII. LONDON, October 9, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, If this letter finds you at all, of which I am very doubtful, it will find you at Venice, preparing for your journey to Rome ; which, by my last letter to Mr. Harte, I advised you to make along the coast of the Adriatic through Rimini, Loretto, Ancona, etc., places that are all worth seeing, but not worth staying at; and such I reckon all places where the eyes only are employed. Remains of antiquity, public buildings, paintings, sculptures, etc., ought to be seen, and that with a proper degree of atten- tion ; but this is soon .done, for they are only outsides. It is not so with more important objects, the insides of which must be seen ; and they require and deserve much more attention. The characters, the heads, and the hearts of men are the useful science of which I would have you perfect master : that science is best taught and best learnt in capitals, where every human 256 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. passion has its object, and exerts all its force or all its art in the pursuit. I believe there is no place in the world where every passion ip busier, appears in more shapes, and is conducted with more art, than at Rome. Therefore, when you are there, do not imagine that the Capitol, the Vatican, and the Pantheon are the principa) objects of your curiosity. But, for one minute that you bestow upon those, employ ten days in informing yourself of the nature of that government, the rise and decay of the Papal power, the politics of that Court, the brigues of the Cardinals, the tricks of the Conclaves ; and, in general, everything that relates to the interior of that extraordinary government ; founded originally upon the ignorance and superstition of mankind ; extended by the weakness of some Princes and the ambition of others ; declin- ing of late in proportion as knowledge has increased; and owing its present precarious security, not to the religion, the affection, or the fear of the temporal Powers, but to the jealousy of each other. The Pope's excommunications are no longer dreaded ; his indulgences little solicited, and sell very cheap; and his terri- tories, formidable to no Power, are coveted by many, and will, most undoubtedly, within a century, be scantled out among the great Powers who have now a footing in Italy, whenever they can agree upon the division of the bear's skin. Pray inform yourself thoroughly of the history of the Popes and of the Popedom; which, for many centuries, is interwoven with the history of all Europe. Read the best authors who treat of these matters, and especially Fra Paolo, de Beneficiis, a short but very material book. You will find at Rome some of all the religious Orders in the Christian world ; inform yourself carefully of their origin, their founders, their rules, their reforms, and even their dresses : get acquainted with some of all of them, but particularly with the Jesuits, whose Society I look upon to be the most able and best governed society in the world. Get acquainted, if you can, with their General, who always resides at Rome; and who, though he has no seeming power out of his own Society, has (it may be) more real influence over the whole world than any temporal prince in it. They have almost engrossed the education of youth. They are, in general, confessors to most of the princes of Europe ; LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 257 and they are the principal missionaries out of it; which three articles give them a most extensive influence, and solid advan- tages; witness their settlement in Paraguay. Roman Catholics in general declaim against that Society, and yet are all governed by individuals of it. They have, by turns, been banished, and with infamy, almost every country in Europe; and have always found means to be restored even with triumph. In short, I know no government in the world that is carried on upon such deep principles of policy, I will not add morality. Converse with them, frequent them, court them; but know them. Inform yourself too of that infernal court, the Inquisition; which, though not so considerable at Rome as in Spain and Portugal, will however be a good sample to you of what the villany of some men can contrive, the folly of others receive, and both together establish, in spite of the first natural principles of reason, justice, and equity. These are the proper and useful objects of the attention of a man of sense, when he travels ; and these are the objects for which I have sent you abroad; and I hope you will return thoroughly informed of them. I receive, this very moment, Mr. Harte's letter of the 1st October, N.S., but I have never received his former, to which he refers in this, and you refer in your last ; in which he gave me the reasons for your leaving Verona so soon ; nor have I ever received that letter in which your case was stated by your physicians. Letters to and from me have worse luck than other people's; for you have written to me, and I to you, for these last three months, by way of Germany, with as little success as before. I am edified with your morning applications, and your evening gallantries, at Venice, of which Mr. Harte gives me an account. Pray go on with both, there, and afterwards at Rome; where, provided you arrive in the beginning of December, you may stay at Venice as much longer as you please. Make my compliments to Sir James Gray and Mr. Smith, with my acknowledgments for the great civilities they show you. I wrote to Mr. Harte by the last post, October the 6th, O.S., and will write to him in a post or two, upon the contents of his last. Adieu! Point de distractions; and remember the Graces. VOL. I. S 268 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. CXIII. LONDON, October 17, O.S., 1749. DEAR BOY, I have, at last, received Mr. Harte' s letter, of the 19fch September, N.S., from Verona. Your reasons for leaving that place were very good ones ; and, as you staid there long enough to see what was to be seen, Venice (as a Capital) is, in my opinion, a much better place for your residence. Capitals are always the seats of Arts and Sciences, and the best companies. I have stuck to them all my lifetime; and I advise you to do so too. You will have received, in my three or four last letters, my directions for your further motions to another Capital ; where i propose that your stay shall be pretty considerable. The ex- pense, I am well aware, will be so too ; but that, as I told you before, will have no weight, when your improvement and advan- tage are in the other scale. I do not care a groat what it is, if neither vice nor folly are the objects of it, and if Mr. Harte gives his sanction. I am very well pleased with your account of Carniola; those are the kind of objects worthy of your inquiries and knowledge. The produce, the taxes, the trade, the manufactures, the strength, the weakness, the government, of the several countries which a man of sense travels through, are the material points to which he attends; and leaves the steeples, the market-places, and the signs, to the laborious and curious researches of Dutch and German travellers. Mr. Harte tells me, that he intends to give yon, by means of Signer Vicentini, a general notion of civil and military archi- tecture; with which I am very well pleased. They are frequent subjects of conversation ; and it is very right that you should have some idea of the latter, and a good taste of the former; and you may very soon learn as much as you need know of either. If you read about one-third of Palladio's Book of Architecture with some skilful person, and then, with that person, examine the best buildings by those rules, you will know the different proportions of the different orders; the several diameters of their columns ; their inter- columniations, their several uses, etc. The LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 259 Corinthian Order is chiefly used in magnificent buildings, where ornament and decoration are the principal objects; the Doric is calculated for strength; and the Ionic partakes of the Doric strength and of the Corinthian ornaments. The Composite and the Tuscan Orders are more modern, and were unknown to the Greeks : the one is too light, the other too clumsy. You may soon be acquainted with the considerable parts of civil architec- ture ; and for the minute and mechanical parts of it, leave them to masons, bricklayers, and Lord Burlington;* who has, to a certain degree, lessened himself, by knowing them too well. Observe the same method as to military architecture ; understand the terms ; know the general rules, and then see them in execu- tion with some skilful person. Go with some engineer or old officer, and view with care the real fortifications of some strong place; and you will get a clearer idea of bastions, half-moons, horn-works, ravelins, glacis, etc., than all the masters in the world could give you upon paper. And thus much I would by all means have you know of both civil and military architecture. I would also have you acquire a liberal taste of the two liberal arts of painting and sculpture; but without descending into those minuties, which our modern virtuosi most affectedly dwell upon. Observe the great parts attentively; see if nature be truly represented ; if the passions are strongly expressed ; if the characters are preserved ; and leave the trifling parts, with their little jargon, to affected puppies. I would advise you, also, to read the history of the Painters and Sculptors; and I know none better than Felibien's.f There are many in Italian; you will inform yourself which are the best. It is a part of history, very entertaining, curious enough, and not quite useless. All these sorts of things I would have you know, to a certain degree ; but remember, that they must only be the amusements, and not the business, of a man of parts. Since writing to me in German would take up so much of * Richard Boyle, third Earl of Burlington, to whom Pope inscribed his Epistle on the Use of Riches, an enthusiastic amateur in architecture. He was born in 1695, died in 1753. Horace Walpole says of him, that he ' had every quality of a genius and artist, except envy." f Jean Francis Felibien (died 1733) wrote Entretiens sur les Vies et sur les Ouvrages des plus excellens Peintres, anciens et modernes ; Londres, 1705, 4 vols., 12mo. 260 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. your time, of which I would not now have one moment wasted, I will accept of your composition, and content myself with a moderate German letter, once a fortnight, to Lady Chesterfield, or Mr. Grevenkop. My meaning was only, that you should not forget what you had already learned of the German language and character; but, on the contrary, that, by frequent use, it should grow more easy and familiar. Provided you take care of that, I do not care by what means ; but I do desire that you will, every day of your life, speak German to somebody or other (for you will meet with Germans enough), and write a line or two of it every day, to keep your .hand in. Why should you not, for instance, write your own little memorandums and accounts in that language and character ? by which, too, you would have this advantage into the bargain, that, if mislaid, few but yourself could read them. I am extremely glad to hear that you like the assemblies at Venice well enough to sacrifice some suppers to them ; for I hear that you do not dislike your suppers neither. It is therefore plain, that there is somebody or something at those assemblies which you like better than your meat. And as I know there is none but good company at those assemblies, I am very glad to find that you like good company so well. I already imagine you a little smoothed by it; and that you have either reasoned your- self, or that they have laughed you out of your absences and distractions ; for I cannot suppose that you go there to insult them. I likewise imagine that you wish to be welcome where you wish to go; and, consequently, that you both present and behave yourself there, en galant homme, et pas en bourgeois. If you have vowed to anybody there, one of those eternal passions, which I have sometimes known, by great accident, last three months; I can tell you, that without great attention, infinite politeness, and engaging air and manners, the omens will be sinister, and the goddess unpropitious. Pray tell me what are the amusements of those assemblies ? Are they little commercial play, are they music, are they la belle conversation, or are they all three? Y file-t-on le parfait amour? Y debite-t-on les beaux sentimens ? On est ce qu'on y parle Epigramme ? And pray which is your department ? Tutix depone in auribus. Whichever it is, endeavour to shine and. excel in it. Aim, at least, at the LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS, 261 perfection of everything that is worth doing at all, and you will come nearer it than you would imagine ; but those always /crawl infinitely short of it, whose aim is only mediocrity. Adieu ! P.S. By an uncommon diligence of the post I have this moment received yours of the 9th, N.S. CX1V. LONDON, October 24, O.S., 1749. DEAR BOY, By my last I only acknowledged, by this I answer, your letter of the 9th October, N.S. I am very glad that you approved of my letter of September the 12th, O.S., because it is upon that footing that I always pro- pose living with you. I will advise you seriously, as a friend of some experience ; and I will converse with you cheerfully, as a companion : the authority of a parent shall for ever be laid aside; for, wherever it is exerted, it is useless; since, if you have neither sense nor sentiments enough to follow my advice as a friend, your unwilling obedience to my orders, as a father, will be a very awkward and unavailing one, both to yourself and me. Tacitus, speaking of an army that awkwardly and unwillingly obeyed its generals, only from the fear of punishment, says, they obeyed indeed, sed ut qui mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi. For my own part, I disclaim such obedience. You think, I find, that you do not understand Italian; but I can tell you, that, like the Bourgeois Gentilhomme, who spoke prose without knowing it,* you understand a great deal, though you do not know that you do ; for, whoever understands French and Latin so well as you do, understands at least half the Italian language, and has very little occasion for a dictionary. And for the idioms, the phrases, and the delicacies of it, conversation and a little attention will teach them you, and that soon. Therefore, pray speak it in company, right or wrong, a tort ou a travers, as soon as ever you have got words enough to ask a common ques- tion, or give a common answer. If you can only say buon giorno, say it, instead of saying bon jour, I mean to every Italian ; the answer to it will teach you more words, and, insensibly, you will * Moliere's Bourgeois Qentilhomme, act ii., scene 6. 262 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. be very soon master of th,at easy language. You are quite right in not neglecting your German for it, and in thinking that it will be of more use to you ; it certainly will, in the course of your business : but Italian has its use too, and is an ornament into the bargain ; there being many very polite and good authors in that language. The reason you assign for having hitherto met with none of my " swarms of Germans " in Italy, is a very solid one ; and I can easily conceive that the expense necessary for a tra- veller must amount to a number of ihalers, groschen, and Tcreut- .zers, tremendous to a German fortune. However, you will find several at Rome, either Ecclesiastics, or in the suite of the Imperial Minister; and more when you come into the Milanese, among the Queen of Hungary's officers. Besides, you have a Saxon servant, to whom I hope you speak nothing but German. I have had the most obliging letter in the world from Monsieur Capello, in which he speaks very advantageously of you, and pro- mises you his protection at Rome. I have wrote him an answer by which I hope I have domesticated you at his hotel there, which I advise you to frequent as much as you can. II est vrai qu'il ne paye pas beaucoup de sa figure ; but he has sense and knowledge at bottom, with a great experience of business, having been already Ambassador at Madrid, Vienna, and London. And I am very sure that he will be willing to give you any informations in that way that he can. Madame was a capricious, whimsical fine lady, till the small- pox, which she got there, by lessening her beauty, lessened her humours too ; but, as I presume it did not change her sex, I trust to that for her having such a share of them left as may contribute to smooth and polish you. She doubtless still thinks that she has beauty enough remaining to entitle her to the attentions always paid to beauty; and she has certainly rank enough to require respect. Those are the sort of women who polish a young man the most, and who give him that habit of com- plaisance, and that flexibility and versatility of manners, which prove of great use to him with men, and in the course of business. You must always expect to hear more or less from me upon that important subject of manners, graces, address, and that undefinable je ne sqais quoi that ever pleases. I have reason to believe thai you want nothing else ; but I have reason to fear, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 263 too, that you want these ; and that want will keep you poor, in the midst of all the plenty of knowledge which you may have treasured up. Adieu ! CXV. LONDON, November 3, O.S., 1749. DEAR BOY, From the time that you have had life, it has been the prin- cipal and favourite object of mine to make you as perfect as the imperfections of human nature will allow ; in this view I have grudged no pains nor expense in your education ; convinced that education, more than nature, is the cause of that great difference which we see in the characters of men. While you were a child, I endeavoured to form your heart habitually to virtue and honour, before your understanding was capable of showing you their beauty and utility. Those principles which you then got, like your grammar rules, only by rote, are now, I am persuaded, fixed and confirmed by reason. And indeed they are so plain and clear, that they require but a very moderate degree of under- standing, either to comprehend or practise them. Lord Shaftesbury says, very prettily, that he would be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody were to know it ; as he would be clean for his own sake, though nobody were to see him. I have therefore, since you have had the use of your reason, never written to you upon those subjects ; they speak best for them- selves ; and I should now just as soon think of warning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire, as into dishonour or vice. This view of mine I consider as fully attained. My next object was sound and useful learning. My own care first, Mr. Harte's afterwards, and of late (I will own it to your praise) your own application, have more than answered my ex- pectations in that particular, and, I have reason to believe, will answer even my wishes. All that remains for me then to wish, to recommend, to inculcate, to order, and to insist upon, is good- breeding; without which all your other qualifications will be lame, unadorned, and, to a certain degree, unavailing. And here I fear, and have too much reason to believe, that you are greatly deficient. The remainder of this letter, therefore, shall be (and it will not be the last by a great many) upon that subject. 264 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. A friend of yours and mine has very justly defined good-breeding to be, the result of much good-sense, some good-nature, and a little self-denial for the salte of others, and with a view to obtain tlie same indulgence from them. Taking this for granted (as I think it cannot be disputed), it is astonishing to me that anybody who has good- sense and good-nature (and I believe you have both) can essentially fail in good-breeding. As to the modes of it, in- deed, they vary according to persons, places, and circumstances, and are only to be acquired by observation and experience; but the substance of it is everywhere and eternally the same. Good manners are, to particular societies what good morals are to society in general, their cement and their security. And as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or at least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones, so there are certain rules of civility, universally implied and received, to enforce good manners, and punish bad ones. And indeed there seems to me to be less difference, both between the crimes and punishments, than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades another's property, is justly hanged for it ; and the ill-bred man, who by his ill manners invades and disturbs the quiet and comforts of pri- vate life, is by common consent as justly banished society. Mutual complaisances, attentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are as natural an implied compact between civilized people, as protection and obedience are between Kings and subjects; whoever in either case violates that compact, justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. For my own part, I really think, that, next to the consciousness of doing a good action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleasing ; and the epithet which I should covet the most, next to that of Aristides, would be that of well-bred. Thus much for good-breeding in general ; I will now consider some of the various modes and degrees of it. Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the respect which they should show to those whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their superiors ; such as crowned heads, princes, and public persons of distinguished and eminent posts. It is the manner of showing that respect which is different. The man of fashion, and of the world, expresses it in its fullest extent ; but naturally, easily, and without concern ; whereas a man who is not used to keep good company, expresses it awkwardly ; one sees that he is LORD CHESTEEFIELD'S LETTERS. 265 not used to it, aud that it costs him a great deal ; but I never saw the worst bred man living guilty of lolling, whistling, scratch- ing his head, and such like indecencies, in company that he respected. In such companies, therefore, the only point to be attended to is, to show that respect, which everybody means to show, in an easy, unembarrassed, and graceful manner. This is what observation and experience must teach you. In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for the time at least, supposed to be upon a footing of equality with the rest; and, consequently, as there is no prin- cipal object of awe and respect, people are apt to take a greater latitude in their behaviour, and to be less upon their guard ; and so they may, provided it be within certain bounds, which are upon no occasion to be transgressed. But, upon these occasions, though no one is entitled to distinguished marks of respect, every one claims and very justly, every mark of civility and good-breeding. Ease is allowed, but carelessness and neglience are strictly forbidden. If a man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dully or frivolously, it is worse than rudeness, it is brutality, to show him, by a manifest inattention to what he says, that yon think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more so with regard to women, who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration of their sex, not only to an at- tentive, but an officious good-breeding from men. Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impertinences, must be officiously attended to, flattered, and, if possible, guessed at and anticipated by a well-bred man. You must never usurp to yourself those conveniencies and agremens which are of common right such as the best places, the best dishes, etc. ; but, on the contrary, always decline them your- self, and offer them to others, who, in their turns, will offer them to you ; so that, upon the whole, you will in your turn enjoy your share of the common right. It would be useless for me to enumerate all the particular instances in which a well-bred man shows his good-breeding in good company ; and it would be in- jurious to you to suppose that your own good-sense will not point them out to you ; and then your own good-nature will recommend, and your self-interest enforce, the practice. There is a third sort of good-breeding, in which people are the 266 LOKD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTERS. most apt to fail, from a very mistaken notion that they cannot fail at all ; I mean, with regard to one's most familiar friends and acquaintances, or those who really are our inferiors ; and there, undoubtedly, a greater degree of ease is not only allowed, but proper, and contributes much to the comforts of a private, social life. But that ease and freedom have their bounds too, which must by no means be violated. A certain degree of negligence and carelessness becomes injurious and insulting, from the real or supposed inferiority of the persons; and that delightful liberty of conversation among a few friends is soon destroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried to licentiousness. But example explains things best, and I will put a pretty strong case. Suppose you and me alone together I believe you will allow that I have as good a right to unlimited freedom in your company, as either you or I can possibly have in any other; and I am apt to believe, too, that you would indulge me in that freedom as far as anybody would. But, notwithstanding this, do you imagine that I should think there were no bounds to that freedom ? I assure you, I should not think so ; and I take myself to be as much tied down by a certain degree of good manners to you, as by other degrees of them to other people. Were I to show you, by a manifest inattention to what you said to me, that I was thinking of something else the whole time were I to yawn extremely or snore in your company, I should think that I behaved myself to you like a beast, and should not expect that you would care to frequent me. No. The most familiar and intimate habitudes, connections, and friendships, require a degree of good-breeding, both to preserve and cement them. If ever a man and his wife, who pass nights as well as days together, absolutely lay aside all good-breediug, their intimacy will soon degenerate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive of contempt or disgust. The best of us have our bad sides ; and it is as imprudent as it is ill- bred to exhibit them. I shall certainly not use ceremony with you; it would be misplaced between us; but I shall certainly observe that degree of good-breeding with you, which is, in the first place, decent, and which, I am sure, is absolutely necessary to make us like one another's company long. I will say no more now upon this important subject of good- breeding, upon which I have already dwelt too long, it may be, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 267 for one letter, and upon which I shall frequently refresh your memory hereafter ; but I will conclude with these axioms : That the deepest learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome and tiresome pedantry, and of use nowhere but in a man's own closet and, consequently, of little or no use at all. That a man who is not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for good company, and unwelcome in it ; will consequently dislike it soon afterwards renounce it ; and be reduced to solitude, or (what is worse) low and bad company. That a man who is not well-bred, is full as unfit for business as for company. Make then, my dear child, I conjure you, good-breeding the great object of your thoughts and actions, at least, half the day. Observe carefully the behaviour and manners of those who are distinguished by their good- breeding; imitate, nay, endeavour to excel, that you may at least reach them ; and be convinced that good-breeding is, to all worldly qualifications, what charity is to all Christian virtues. Observe how it adorns merit, and how often it covets the want of it. May you wear it to adorn, and not co cover you ! Adieu ! CXVI. LONDON, November 14, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, There is a natural good-breeding which occurs to every man of common sense, and is practised by every man of common good- nature. This good-breeding is general, independent of modes, and consists in endeavours to please and oblige our fellow-crea- tures by all good offices short of moral duties. This will be practised by a good-natured American savage as essentially as by the best bred European. But, then, I do not take it to extend to the sacrifice of our own conveniences for the sake of other people's. Utility introduced this sort of good-breeding as it introduced commerce, and established a truck * of the little garemens and pleasures of life. I sacrifice such a conveniency to you, you sacrifice another to me ; this commerce circulates, and every individual finds his account in it upon the whole. The * Truck, an old word for barter, exchange. 268 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. third sort of good-breeding is local, and is variously modified, in not only different countries, but in different towns of the same country. But it must be founded upon the two former sorts : they are the matter to which, in this case, fashion and custom only give the different shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two first sorts will easily acquire this third sort of good- breeding, which depends singly upon attention and observation. It is, properly, the polish, the lustre, the last finishing strokes of good- breeding. It is to be found only in capitals, and even there it varies; the good-breeding of Rome differing in some things from that of Paris ; that of Paris, in others, from that of Madrid ; and that of Madrid, in many things from that of London. A man of sense, therefore, carefully attends to the local man- ners of the respective places where he is, and takes for his models those persons whom he observes to be at the head of the fashion and good-breeding. He watches how they address themselves to their superiors, how they accost their equals, and how they treat their inferiors ; and lets none of those little niceties escape him ; which are to good-breeding what the last delicate and masterly touches are to a good picture ; and of which the vulgar have no notion, but by which good judges distinguish the master. He attends even to their air, dress, and motions, and imitates them liberally, and not servilely; he copies, but does not mimic. These personal graces are of very great consequence : they anticipate the sentiments before merit can engage the under- standing ; they captivate the heart, and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of charms and philters. Their effects were so surprising that they were reckoned supernatural. The most graceful and best bred men, and the haudsomest and genteelest women, give the most philters ; and, as I verily believe, without the least assistance of the devil. Pniy be not only well-dressed, but shining in your dress ; let it have du brillant ; I do not mean by a clumsy load of gold and silver, but by the taste and fashion of it. Women like and require it ; they think it an attention due to them ; but on the other hand, if your motions and carriage are not graceful, genteel, and natural, your fine clothes will only display your awkwardness the more. But I am unwilling to suppose you still awkward ; for surely LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 269 by this time you must have catched a good air in good company. When you went from hence you were not naturally awkward ; but your awkwardness was adventitious and Westmonasterial. Leipzig, I apprehend, is not the seat of the Graces ; and I pre- sume yon acquired none there. But now, if you will be pleased to observe what people of the first fashion do with their legs and arms, heads and bodies, you will reduce yours to certain decent laws of motion. You danced pretty well here, and ought to dance very well before you come home; for what one is obliged to do sometimes one ought to be able to do well. Besides, la belle danse donne du brillant a im jeune homme. And you should endeavour to shine. A calm serenity, negative merit and graces, do not become your age. You should be alerte, adroit, vif; be wanted, talked of, impatiently expected, and unwillingly parted with in company. I should be glad to hear half a dozen women of fashion say, Ou est done le petit Stanhope? Que ne vient-il? Ilfaut avouer qu'il est aimable. All this I do not mean singly with regard to women as the principal object ; but with regard to men, and with a view of your making yourself considerable. For, with very small variations, the same things that please women please men ; and a man whose manners are softened and polished by women of fashion, and who is formed by them to an habitual attention and complaisance, will please, engage, and connect men much easier and more than he would otherwise. You must be sensible that yon cannot rise in the world without forming connections and engaging different characters to conspire in your point. You must make them your dependents without their knowing it, and dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them. Those necessary connections can never be formed or preserved but by an uninterrupted series of complaisance, attentions, politeness, and some constraint. You must engage their hearts if you would have their support ; you must watch the mollia tempora, and captivate them by the agremens, and charms of conversation. People will not be called out to your service only when you want them ; and, if you expect to receive strength from them, they must receive either pleasure or advantage from you. I received in this instant a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 2nd, N.S., which I will answer soon; in the mean time I return him 270 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. my thanks for it, through you. The constant good accounts which he gives me of you will make me suspect him of partiality, and think him le medecin taut, mieux. Consider, therefore, what weight any future deposition of his against you must necessarily have with me ; as, in that case, he will be a very unwilling, he must consequently be a very important witness. Adieu ! CXVII. DEAE BOY, My last was upon the subject of good-breeding ; but, I think, it rather set before you the unfitness and disadvantages of ill-breeding, than the utility and necessity of good ; it was rather negative than positive. This, therefore, shall go further, and explain to you the necessity, which you, of all people living, lie under, not only of being positively actively well-bred, but of shining and distinguishing yourself by your good-breeding. Consider your own situation in every particular, and judge whether it is not essentially your interest, by your own good- breeding to others, to secure theirs to you ; and that, let me assure you, is the only way of doing it ; for people will repay, and with interest too, inattention with inattention, neglect with neglect, and ill manners with worse ; which may engage you in very disagreeable affairs. In the next place, your profession requires, more than any other, the nicest and most distinguished good-breeding. You will negotiate with very little success, if you do not, previously, by your manners, conciliate and engage the affections of those with whom you are to negotiate. Can you ever get into the confidence and the secrets of the Courts where you may happen to reside, if you have not those pleasing, insinuating manners which alone can procure them ? Upon my word, I do not say too much when I say, that superior good- breeding, insinuating manners, and genteel address, are half your business. Your knowledge will have but very little influence upon the mind, if your manners prejudice the heart against you ; but, on the other hand, how easily will you dupe the understanding where you have first engaged the heart ! and hearts are by no means to be gained by that mere common civility which everybody prac- LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 271 tisep. Bowing again to those who bow to you, answering drily those who speak to you, and saying nothing offensive to any- body, is such negative good-breeding, that it is only not being a brute ; as it would be but a very poor commendation of any man's cleanliness to say that he did not stink. It is an active, cheer- ful, officious, seducing good-breeding that must gain you the good-will and first sentiments of the men, and the affections of the women. You must carefully watch and attend to their passions, their tastes, their little humours and weaknesses, and aller au devant. You must do it, at the same time, with alacrity and empressement, and not as if you graciously condescended to humour their weaknesses. For instance, suppose you invited anybody to dine or sup with you, you ought to recollect if you had observed that they had any favourite dish, and take care to provide it for them : and, when it came, you should say, Yim seemed to me, at such and such a place, to give this dish a preference, and therefore I ordered it. This is the wine that I observed you liked, and therefore 1 procured some. The more trifling these things are, the more they prove your attention for the person, and are consequently the more engaging. Consult your own breast, and recollect how these little attentions, when shown you by others, flatter that degree of self-love and vanity, from which no man living is free. Reflect how they incline and attract you to that person, and how you are propitiated afterwards to all which that person says or does. The same causes will have the same effects in your favour. Women, in a great degree, establish or destroy every man's reputation of good-breeding ; you must, therefore, in a manner, overwhelm them with these attentions ; they are used to them, they expect them ; and, to do them justice, they commonly requite them. You must be sedulous, and rather over-officious than under, in procuring them their coaches, their chairs, their conveniencies in public places; not see what you should not see ; and rather assist where you cannot help seeing. Opportunities of showing these attentions present themselves perpetually ; but, if they do not, make them. As Ovid advises his Lover, when he sits in the Circus near his mistress, to wipe the dust off her neck, even if there be none : Si nullus, tamen excute nullum. Your conversation with women should always be respectful; but, at 272 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. the same time, enjoue, and always addressed to their vanity. Everything you say or do, should convince them of the regard you have (whether you have it or not) for their beauty, their wit, or their merit. Men have possibly as much vanity as women, though of another kind; and both art and good-breeding require, that instead of mortifying, you should please and flatter it, by words and looks of approbation. Suppose (which is by no means im- probable) that, at your return to England, I should place you near the person of some one of the Royal Family; in that situation, good- breeding, engaging address, adorned with all the graces that dwell at Courts, would very probably make you a favourite, and, from a favourite, a Minister ; but all the know- ledge and learning in the world, without them, never would. The penetration of Princes seldom goes deeper than the surface. It is the exterior that always engages their hearts ; and I would never advise you to give yourself much trouble about their under- standings. Princes in general (I mean those Porphyrogenets * who are born and bred in purple) are about the pitch of women ; bred up like them, and are to be addressed and gained in the same manner. They always see, they seldom weigh. Your lustre, not your solidity, must take them ; your inside will after- wards support and secure what your outside has acquired. With weak people (and they undoubtedly are three parts in four of mankind), good-breeding, address, and manners are everything ; they can go no deeper ; but let me assure you, that they are a great deal even with people of the best understandings. Where the eyes are not pleased, and the heart is not flattered, the mind will be apt to stand out. Be this right or wrong, I confess I am so made myself. Awkwardness and ill-breeding shock me to that degree, that, where I meet with them, I cannot * " In the Greek language purple and porphyry are the same word ; and as the colours of nature are invariable, we may learn that a dark, deep red was the Tyrian dye which stained the purple of the ancients. An apart- ment of the Byzantine palace was lined with porphyry ; it was reserved for the use of the pregnant Empresses, and the Royal birth of their children was expressed by the appellation of Porpkyrogenite, or Born in the Purple. Several of the Roman princes had been blessed with an heir; but this peculiar surname was first applied to Constantino the Seventh " (A.D. 911). Gibbon's Decline and Fall, ch. xlviii. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 273 find in my heart to inquire into the intrinsic merit of that per- son ; I hastily decide in myself, that he can have none ; and am not sure, I should not even be sorry to know that he had any. I often paint you in my imagination in your present lontananza ; and, while I view you in the light of ancient and modern learn- ing, useful and ornamental knowledge, I am charmed with the prospect ; but when I view you in another light, and represent you awkward, ungraceful, ill-bred, with vulgar air and manners, shambling towards me with inattention and distractions, I shall not pretend to describe to you what I feel ; but will do as a skilful painter did formerly, draw a veil before the countenance of the father. I dare say you know already enough of Architecture to know that the Tuscan is the strongest and most solid of all the Orders ; but, at the same time, it is the coarsest and clumsiest of them. Its solidity does extremely well for the foundation and base floor of a great edifice ; but if the whole building be Tuscan, it will attract no eyes, it will stop no passengers, it will invite no interior examination ; people will take it for granted, that the finishing and furnishing cannot be worth seeing, where the front is so unadorned and clumsy. But if, upon the solid Tuscan foundation, the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian Orders rise gradually with all their beauty, proportions, and ornaments, the fabric seizes the most incurious eye, and stops the most careless passenger, who solicits admission as a favour, nay, often pur- chases it. Just so will it fare with your little fabric, which, at present, I fear, has more of the Tuscan than of the Corinthian Order. You must absolutely change the whole front, or nobody will knock at the door. The several parts, which must compose this new front, are elegant, easy, natural, superior good-breeding ; an engaging address ; genteel motions j an insinuating softness in your looks, words, and actions ; a spruce, lively air ; fashion- able dress ; and all the glitter that a young fellow should have. I am sure you would do a great deal for my sake; and there- fore consider, at your return here, what a disappointment and concern it would be to me, if I could not safely depute you to do the honours of my house and table ; and if I should be ashamed to present you to those who frequent both. Should you be awkward, inattentive, and distrait, and happen to meet Mr. VOL. I. T 274 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. L(yttleton) * at my table, the consequences of that meeting must be fatal; you would run your heads against each other, cut each other's fingers, instead of your meat, or die by the precipitate infusion of scalding soup. This is really so copious a subject, that there is no end of being either serious or ludicrous upon it. It is impossible, too, to enumerate or state to you the various cases in good-breeding ; they are infinite ; there is no situation or relation in the world, so remote or so intimate, that does not require a degree of it. Your own good- sense must point it out to you ; your own good- nature must incline, and your interest prompt you to practise it ; and observation and experience must give you the manner, the air, and the graces, which complete the whole. This letter will hardly overtake you till you are at or near Rome. I expect a great deal, in every way, from your six months* stay there. My morning hopes are justly placed in Mr. Harte, and the masters he will give you ; my evening ones, in the Roman ladies ; pray be attentive to both. But I must hint to you, that the Roman ladies are not les femmes sqavantes, et ne vous embrasseront point pour V amour du 6rrec.f They must have il garbato, il leggiadro, il disinvolto, il lusinghiero, quel non so che che piace, che alletta, die incanta. I have often asserted, that the profoundest learning, and the politest manners, were by no means incompatible, though so seldom found united in the same person ; and I have engaged myself to exhibit you as a proof of the truth of this assertion. Should you, instead of that, happen to disprove me, the concern indeed will be mine, but the loss will be yours. Lord Boling- broke J is a strong instance on my side of the question ; he joins, to the deepest erudition, the most elegant politeness and good-breeding that ever any courtier and man of the world was * See Letter CIX. of September 22. f An allusion to a passage in the Femmes Scvoantes of Moliere : " PHILA.MINTE. Quoi ! Monsieur sait du Grec ! Ah, permettez de grace " Que pour 1'amour du Grec, Monsieur, on vous embrasse ! " But when the turn comes to HENBJETTE, she exclaims to the pedant, qui veut aussi I'embrasser, " Excusez moi, Monsieur, je n'entends pas le Grec ! " iii. 5. J Henry St. John, Yiscount Bolingbroke, born 1672, died 1751. LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. '275 adorned with. And Pope very justly called him "all-accom- plished St. John," with regard to his knowledge and his manners. He had, it is true, his faults; which proceeded from unbounded ambition, and impetuous passions; but they have now subsided by age and experience ; and I can wish you nothing better than to be what he is now, without being- what he has been formerly. His address pre-engages, his eloquence persuades, and his knowledge informs all who approach him. Upon the whole, I do desire, and insist, that, from after dinner till you go to bed, you make good-breeding, address, and man- ners, your serious object and your only care. Without them, you will be nobody ; with them, you may be anything. Adieu, my dear child ! My compliments to Mr. Harte. CXVIII. LONDON, November 24, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, Every rational being (I take it for granted) proposes to him- self some object more important than mere respiration and obscure animal existence. He desires to distinguish himself among his fellow-creatures ; and, alicui negotio intentus, prceclari facinoris, aut artis bonce, famam qucerit. Cassar, when embark- ing in a storm, said, that it was not necessary he should live ; but that it was absolutely necessary he should get to the place to which he was going. And Pliny leaves mankind this only alternative; either of doing what deserves to be written, or of writing what deserves to be read. As for those who do neither, eorum mtam mortemque juxta cestumo ; quoniam de utrdque sile- tur. You have, I am convinced, one or both of these objects in view ; but you must know, and use the necessary means, or your pursuit will be vain and frivolous. In either case, sapere est principium et fons ; but it is by no means all. That know- ledge may be adorned, it must have lustre as well as weight, or it will be oftener taken for Lead than for Gold. Knowledge you have, and will have ; I am easy upon that article. But my business, as your friend, is not to compliment you upon what you have, but to tell you with freedom what you want ; and I must tell you plainly, that I fear you want everything but knowledge. 276 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. I have written to you so often of late upon good-breeding, address, les manieres liantes, the Graces, etc., that I shall confine this letter to another subject, pretty near akin to them, and which, I am sure, you are full as deficient in I mean style. Style is the dress of thoughts ; and let them be ever so just, if your style is homely, coarse, and vulgar, they will appear to as much disadvantage, and be as ill received as your person, though ever so well proportioned, would, if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters. It is not every understanding that can judge of matter, but every ear can and does judge, more or less, of style ; and were I either to speak or write to the public, I should prefer moderate matter, adorned with all the beauties and elegances of style, to the strongest matter in the world, ill-worded and ill-delivered. Your business is negotiation abroad, and oratory in the House of Commons at home. What figure can you make in either case, if your style be inelegant, I do not say bad ? Imagine yourself writing an office-letter to a Secretary of State, which letter is to be read by the whole Cabinet Council, and very possibly afterwards laid before Parlia- ment ; any one barbarism, solecism, or vulgarism in it would, in a very few days, circulate through the whole kingdom, to your disgrace and ridicule. For instance ; I will suppose you had written the following letter from the Hague, to the Secretary of State at London ; and leave you to suppose the consequences of it. MY LORD, I had, last night, the honour of your Lordship's letter of the 24th ; and will set about doing the orders contained therein ; and if so be that I can get that affair done by the next post, I will not fail for to give your Lordship an account of it by next post. I have told the French Minister, as how, that if that affair be not soon concluded, your Lordship would think it all long of him ; and that he must have neglected for to have wrote to his Court about it. I must beg leave to put your Lordship in mind, as how, that I am now full three quarters in arrear ; and if so be that I do not very soon receive at least one half year, I shall cut a very bad figure ; for this here place is very dear. I shall be vastly beholden to your Lordship for that there mark of your favour ; and so I rest, or remain. Your etc. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 277 You will tell me, possibly, that this is a caricatura of an illiberal and inelegant style; I will admit it; but assure you, at the same time, that a despatch with less than half these faults would blow you up for ever. It is by no means sufficient to be free from faults in speaking and writing ; you must do both correctly and elegantly. In faults of this kind, it is not ille optimus qui minimis urgetur ; but he is unpardonable who has any at all, because it is his own fault ; he need only attend to, observe, and imitate the best authors. It is a very true saying, that a man must be born a poet, but that he may make himself an orator ; and the very first principle of an orator is, to speak his own language particularly, with the utmost purity and elegancy. A man will be forgiven, even great errors, in a foreign language ; but in his own, even the least slips are justly laid hold of and ridiculed. A person of the House of Commons, speaking two years ago upon uaval affairs, asserted, that we had then the finest navy upon the face of the yearth. This happy mixture of blunder and vulgarism, you may easily imagine, was matter of immediate ridicule ; but I can assure you, that it continues so still, and will be remembered as long as he lives and speaks. Another, speak, ing in defence of a gentleman, upon whom a censure was moved, happily said, that he thought that gentleman was more liable to be thanked and rewarded, than censured. You know, I presume, that liable can never be used in a good sense. You have with you three or four of the best English authors, Drydeu, Atterbury, and Swift : read them with the utmost care, and with a particular view to their language ; and they may possibly correct that curious infelicity of diction which you ac- quired at Westminster. Mr. Harte excepted, I will admit that you have met with very few English abroad, who could improve your style ; and with many, I dare say, who speak as ill as your- self, and it may be worse ; you must, therefore, take the more pains, and consult your authors, and Mr. Harte, the more. I need not tell you how attentive the Romans and Greeks, particu- larly the Athenians, were to this object. It is also a study among the Italians and the French ; witness their respective academies and dictionaries, for improving and fixing their lan- guages. To our shame be it spoken, it is less attended to here 278 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. than in any polite country ; but that is no reason why you should not attend to it j on the contrary, it will distinguish you the more. Cicero says, very truly, that it is glorious to excel other men in that very article, in which men excel brutes ; speech. Constant experience has shown me, that great purity and ele- gance of style, with a graceful elocution, cover a multitude of faults, in either a speaker or a writer. For my own part, I con- fess (and I believe most people are of my mind) that if a speaker should ungracefully mutter or stammer out to me the sense of an angel, deformed by barbarisms and solecisms, or larded with vulgarisms, he should never speak to me a second time, if I could help it. Gain the heart, or you gain nothing; the eyes and the ears are the only roads to the heart. Merit and know- ledge will not gain hearts, though they will secure them when gained. Pray have that truth ever in your mind. Engage the eyes by your address, air, and motions ; soothe the ears, by the elegancy and harmony of your diction ; the heart will certainly follow ; and the whole man, or woman, will as certainly follow the heart. I must repeat it to you, over and over again, that, with all the knowledge which you may have at present, or. here- after acquire, and with all the merit that ever man had, if you have not a graceful address, liberal and engaging manners, a prepossessing air, and a good degree of eloquence in speaking and writing, you will be nobody ; but will have the daily morti- fication of seeing people, with not one-tenth part of your merit or knowledge, get the start of you, and disgrace you both in company and in business. You have read Quintilian ; the best book in the world to form an orator ; pray read Gicero de Oratore ; the best book in the world to finish one. Translate and retranslate, from and to Latin, Greek, and English ; make yourself a pure and elegant English style ; it requires nothing but application. I do not find that God has made you a poet ; and I am very glad that he has not ; therefore, for God's sake, make yourself an orator, which you may do. Though I still call you boy, I consider you no longer as such ; and when I reflect upon the prodigious quantity of manure that has been laid upon you, I expect you should produce more at eighteen, than uncultivated soils do at eight- and-twenty. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 279 Pray tell Mr. Harte I have received his letter of the 13th, N.S. Mr. Smith was much in the right, not to let you go, at this time of the year, by sea ; in the summer you may navigate as much as you please ; as for example ; from Leghorn to Genoa, etc. Adieu ! CXIX. LONDON, November 26, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, While the Eoman Republic flourished, while glory was pur- sued and virtue practised, and while even little irregularities and indecencies, not cognizable by law, were, however, not thought below the public care, Censors were established, discretionallj to supply, in particular cases, the inevitable defects of the lave, which must and can only be general. This employment I assume to myself, with regard to your little republic, leaving the legis- lative power entirely to Mr. Harte. I hope and believe that he will seldom, or rather never, have occasion to exert his supreme authority ; and I do by no means suspect you of any faults that may require that interposition. But, to tell you the plain truth, I am of opinion that my censorial power will not be useless to you, nor a sinecure to me. The sooner you make it both, the the better for us both. I can now exercise this employment only upon hearsay, or, at most, written evidence, and therefore shall exercise it with great lenity and some diffidence ; but when we meet, and that I can form my judgment upon ocular and auricular evidence, I shall no more let the least impropriety, indecorum, or irregularity pass uncensured, than my predecessor Cato did. I shall read you with the attention of a critic, not with the partiality of an author; different in this respect, indeed, from most critics, that I shall seek for faults only to correct, and not to expose them. I have often thought, and still think, that there are few things which people in general know less, than how to love and how to hate. They hurt those they love, by a mistaken indulgence by a blindness, nay, often a partiality to their faults. Where they kate, they hurt themselves, by ill-timed passion and rage. For- tunately for you, I never loved you in that mistaken manner ; from your infancy, I made you the object of my most serious 280 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. attention, and not my plaything; I consulted your real good, not your humours or fancies ; and I shall continue to do so while you want it, which will probably be the case during our joint lives; for, considering the difference of our ages, in the course of nature, you will hardly have acquired experience enough of your own while I shall be in a condition of lending you any of mine. People in general will much better bear being told of their vices or crimes than of their little failings and weaknesses. They, in some degree, justify or excuse (as they think) the former, by strong passions, seduction, and artifices of others ; but to be told of, or to confess, their little failings and weaknesses, implies an inferiority of parts too mortifying to that self-love and vanity which are inseparable from our natures. I have been intimate enough with several people to tell them that they had said or done a very criminal thing; but I never was intimate enough with any man to tell him, very seriously, that he had said or done a very foolish one. Nothing less than the relation between you and me can possibly authorise that freedom ; but, fortunately for you, my parental rights, joined to my censorial powers, give it me in its fullest extent, and my concern for you will make make me exert it. Rejoice, therefore, that there is one person in the world who can and will tell you what will be very useful to you to know, and yet what no other man living could or would tell you. Whatever I shall tell you of this kind, you are very sure, can have no other motive than your interest. I can neither be jealous nor envious of your reputation or your fortune, which I must be both desirous and proud to establish and promote : I cannot be your rival, either in love or in busi- ness ; on the contrary, I want the rays of your rising to reflect new lustre upon my setting light. In order to this, I shall analyse you minutely, and censure you freely, that you may not (if possible) have one single spot when in your meridian. There is nothing that a young fellow, at his first appearance in the world, has more reason to dread, and, consequently, should take more pains to avoid, than having any ridicule fixed upon him. It degrades him with the most reasonable part of mankind, but it ruins him with the rest ; and I have known many a man undone by acquiring a ridiculous nick-name; I would not, for LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 281 all the riches in the world, that you should acquire one when you return to England. Vices and crimes excite hatred and reproach ; failings, weaknesses, and awkwardnesses excite ridicule ; they are laid hold of by mimics, who, though very contemptible wretches themselves, often, by their buffoonery, fix ridicule upon their betters. The little defects in manners, elocution, address, and air (and even of figure, though very unjustly), are the objects of ridicule, and the causes of nick-names. You cannot imagine the grief it would give me, and the prejudice it would do you, if by way of distinguishing you from others of your name, you should happen to be called Muttering Stanhope, Absent Stanhope, Ill-bred Stanhope, or Awkward, Left-legged Stanhope ; therefore, take great care to put it out of the power of Ridicule itself to give you any of these ridiculous epithets ; for, if you get one, it will stick to you like the envenomed shirt.* The very first day that I see you I shall be able to tell you, and certainly shall tell you, what degree of danger you are in ; and I hope that my admonitions, as Censor, may prevent the censures of the public. Admonitions are always useful ; is this one, or not ? You are the best judge. It is your own picture which I send you, drawn at my request by a lady at Venice; pray let me know how far, in your conscience, you think it like, for there are some parts of it which I wish may, and others which I should be sorry were. I send you, literally, the copy of that part of her letter to her friend here which relates to you. Tell Mr. Harte that I have this moment received his letter of the 22nd, N.S., and that I approve extremely of the long stay you have made at Venice. I love long residences at capitals ; running post through different places is a most unprofitable way of travelling, and admits of no application. Adieu ! " Selon vos ordres, j'ai soigneusement examine le jeune Stan- hope, et je crois 1' avoir approfondi. En voici le portrait que je crois tres fidele. II a le visage joli, 1'air spirituel, et le regard fin. Sa figure est a present trop quarree, mais s'il grandit, comme il en a encore et le terns et 1'etoffe, elle sera bonne. II a certainement beaucoup d'acquit, et on m'assure qu'il s$ait a fond les langues scavantes. Pour le Francois, je S9ais qu'il le * Of Deianira. 282 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. parle parfaitement bien ; et Ton dit qu'il en est de m6me de 1'Allemand. Les questions qu'il fait sont judicieuses, et mar- quent qu'il cherche a s'instruire. Je ne vous dirai pas qu'il cherche autant & plaire; puisqu'il paroit negliger les attentions et les Graces. II se presente mal, et n'a rien moins que 1'air et la tournure aisee et noble qu'il lui faudroit. II est vrai qu'il est encore jeune et neuf, de sorte qu'on a lieu d'esperer que ses exercices, qu'il n'a pas encore faits, et la bonne compagnie oil il est encore novice, le decrotteront, et lui donneront tout ce qui lui manque a present. Un arrangement avec quelque femme de condition et qui a du monde, quelque Madame de Lursay,* est precisement ce qu'il lui faut. Enfin j'ose vous assurer qu'il a tout ce que Monsieur de Chesterfield pourroit lui souhaiter, & 1' exception des manieres, des Graces, et du ton de la bonue compagnie, qu'il prendra surement avec le terns, et 1' usage du grand monde. Ce seroit bien dommage au moins qu'il ne les prit point, puisqu'il merite tant de les avoir. Et vous Savez bien de quelle importance elles sont. Monsieur son Pere le scait aussi, les possedant iui meme comme il fait. Bret, si le petit Stanhope acquiert les Graces, il ira loin, je vous en reponds ; si non, il s'arretera court dans une belle carriere, qu'il pourroit autrement fournir." You see, by this extract, of what consequence other people think these things ; therefore, I hope you will no longer look upon them as trifles. It is the character of an able man to despise little things in great business ; but then he knows what things are little, and what not. He does not suppose things little because they are commonly called so; but by the con- sequences that may or may not attend them. If gaining people's affections, and interesting their hearts in your favour, be of consequence, as it undoubtedly is, he knows very well that a happy concurrence of all these, commonly called little things, manners, air, address, graces, etc., is of the utmost consequence, and will never be at rest till he has acquired them. The world is taken by the outside of things, and we must take the world as * In this passage the writer alludes to the characters in the Egaremens du Cceur et de I' Esprit, one of Crebillon's novels then much in vogue, but now with better taste entirely forgotten. M. See Letter CLX. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 283 it is ; you or I cannot set it right. I kuow at this time a man * of great quality and station who has not the parts of a porter, but raised himself to the station he is in singly by having a graceful figure, polite manners, and an engaging address; which by the way he only acquired by habit, for he has not sense enough to get them by reflection. Parts and habits should conspire to complete you ; you will have the habit ot good company, and you have reflection in your power. cxx. LONDON, December 5, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, Those who suppose that men in general act rationally because they are called rational creatures, know very little of the world ; and, if they act themselves upon that supposition, will, nine times in ten, find themselves grossly mistaken. That man is animal bipes, implume, risibile, I entirely agree ; but, for the rationale, I can only allow it him in adu primo (to talk logic), and seldom in actu secundo. Thus the speculative cloistered pedant in his solitary cell forms systems of things as they should be, not as they are ; and writes as decisively and absurdly upon war, politics, manners and characters, as that pedant talked who was so kind as to instruct Hannibal in the art of war. Such closet politicians never fail to assign the deepest motives for the most trifling actions, instead of often ascribing the greatest actions to the most trifling causes, in which they would be much seldomer mistaken. They read and write of Kings, heroes, and statesmen, as never doing anything but upon the deepest principles of sound policy. But those who see and observe Kings, heroes, and statesmen, discover that they have headaches, indigestions, humours and passions, just like other people ; every one of which in their turns determine their wills in defiance of their reason. Had we only read in the Life of Alexander that he burnt Persepolis, it would doubtless have been accounted for from deep policy : we should have been told, that his new conquest could not have been secured without the destruction of that capital, * Eichelieu. See Letter of 10 June, 1751. 284 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. which would have been the constant seat of cabals, conspiracies, and revolts. But, luckily, we are informed at the same time, that this hero, this demi-god, this son and heir of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get extremely drunk . . . and, by way of frolic, destroyed one of the finest cities in the world. Read men, therefore, yourself; not in books, but in nature. Adopt no systems, but study them yourself. Observe their weaknesses, their passions, their humours ; of all which their understandings are, nine times in ten, the dupes. You will then know that they are to be gained, influenced or led, much oftener by little things than by great ones; and consequently you will no longer think those things little which tend to such great purposes. Let us apply this now to the particular object of this letter ; I mean, speaking in and influencing public assemblies. The nature of our constitution makes eloquence more useful and more necessary in this country than in any other in Europe. A certain degree of good-sense and knowledge is requisite for that as well as for everything else : but beyond that, the purity of diction, the elegance of style, the harmony of periods, a pleasing elocution, and a graceful action, are the things which a public speaker should attend to the most; because his audience certainly does, and understands them the best : or rather, indeed, under- stands little else. The late Lord Chancellor Cowper's strength, as an orator, lay by no means in his reasonings, for he often hazarded very weak ones. But such was the purity and elegance of his style, such the propriety and charms of his elocution, and such the gracefulness of his action, that he never spoke without universal applause : the ears and the eyes gave him up the hearts and the understandings of the audience. On the contrary, the late Lord Townshend * always spoke materially, with argument and knowledge, but never pleased. Why ? His diction was not only inelegant, but frequently ungrammatical, always vulgar ; his cadences false, his voice unharmonious, and his action ungraceful. Nobody heard him with patience ; and the young fellows used to joke upon him, and repeat his inaccuracies. The late Duke of * Charles, second Viscount Townshend, born 1 676, was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 1717. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 285 Argyle,* though the weakest reasoner, was the most pleasing speaker I ever knew hi my life; he charmed, he warmed, he forcibly ravished the audience, not by his matter certainly, but by his manner of delivering it. A most genteel figure, a graceful noble air, an harmonious voice, an elegancy of style, and a strength of emphasis, conspired to make him the most affecting, persuasive, and applauded speaker I ever saw. I was captivated like others, but when I came home and coolly considered what he had said, stripped of all those ornaments in which he had dressed it, I often found the matter flimsy, the arguments weak, and I was convinced of the power of those adventitious, concurring circum- stances, which ignorance of mankind only calls trifling ones. Cicero in his book de Oratore, in order to raise the dignity of that profession which he well knew himself to be at the head of, asserts that a complete orator must be a complete everything, lawyer, philosopher, divine, etc. That would be extremely well, if it were possible, but man's life is not long enough ; and I hold him to be the completest orator who speaks the best upon that subject which occurs ; whose happy choice of words, whose lively imagination, whose elocution and action adorn and grace his matter, at the same time that they excite the attention and engage the passions of his audience. You will be of the House of Commons as soon as you are of age ; and you must first make a figure there, if you would make a figure, or a fortune, in your country. This you can never do without that correctness and elegancy in your own language, which you now seem to neglect, and which you have entirely to learn. Fortunately for you, it is to be learned. Care and observation will do it ; but do not flatter yourself, that all the knowledge, sense, and reasoning in the world will ever make you a popular and applauded speaker, without the ornaments and the graces of style, elocution, and action. Sense and argument, though coarsely delivered, will have their weight in a private conversation, with two or three people of sense ; but in a public assembly they will have none, if naked and destitute of the advantages 1 have mentioned. Cardinal de Eetz observes, very * John, the second and celebrated Duke, of whom Thomson says : " from his rich tongue " Persuasion flows and wins the high debate." 286 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. justly, that every numerous assembly is mob, influenced by their passions, humours, and affections, which nothing but eloquence ever did, or ever can engage. This is so important a considera- tion for every body in this country, and more particularly for you, that I earnestly recommend it to your most serious care and attention. Mind your diction, in whatever language you either write or speak ; contract a habit of correctness and elegance. Consider your style, even in the freest conversation, and most familiar letters. After, at least, if not before you have said a thing, reflect if you could not have said it better. Where you doubt of the propriety or elegancy of a word or a phrase, consult some good dead or living authority in that language. Use yourself to trans- late from various languages into English ; correct those trans- lations till they satisfy your ear, as well as your understanding. And be convinced of this truth, That the best sense and reason in the world will be as unwelcome in a public assembly, without these ornaments, as they will in public companies, without the assistance of manners and politeness. If you will please people, you must please them in their own way; and as you cannot make them what they should be, you must take them as they are. I repeat it again, they are only to be taken by agremens, and by what flatters their senses and their hearts. Rabelais first wrote a most excellent book, which nobody liked ; then, deter- mined to conform to the public taste, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which everybody liked, extravagant as it was. Adieu ! CXXI. LONDON, December 9, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, It is now above forty years since I have never spoken nor written one single word, without giving myself at least one moment's time to consider, whether it was a good one or a bad one, and whether I could not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, at this time, shocks my ears ; and I, like all the rest of the world, will willingly exchange, and give up some degree of rough sense, for a gcrod degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, without either vanity LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 287 or false modesty, that whatever reputation I have acquired as a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to my diction, than to my matter, which was necessarily just the same as other people's. When you come into Parliament, your reputation as a speaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods, than upon the subject. The same matter occurs equally to everybody of common sense, upon the same question ; the dressing it well, is what excites the attention and admiration of the audience. It is in Parliament that I have set my heart upon your making a figure ; it is there that I want to have you justly proud of your- self, and to make me justly proud of you. This means that you must be a good speaker there ; I use the word must, because I know you may if you will. The vulgar, who are always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a comet with the same astonishment and admiration, taking them both for preternatural phenomena. This error discourages many young men from attempting that character; and good speakers are willing to have their talent considered as something very extraordinary, if not a peculiar gift of God to His elect. But let you and 1 [sic] analyse and simplify this good speaker ; let us strip him of those adventitious plumes, with which his own pride, and the ignorance of others have decked him, and we shall find the true definition of him to be no more than this : A man of good common sense, who reasons justly, and expresses himself elegantly on that subject upon which he speaks. There is, surely, no witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing degree of parts, will not talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he, if he has the least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What then does all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in Parliament amount to ? Why, no more than this, That the man who speaks in the House of Commons, speaks in that House, and to four hundred people, that opinion, upon a given subject, which he would make no difficulty of speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at table, to any fourteen people whatsoever; better judges, perhaps, and severer critics of what he says, than any fourteen gentlemen of the House of Commons. I have spoken frequently in Parliament, and not always without some applause ; and therefore I can assure you, from my experi- 288 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. ence, that there is very little in it. The elegancy of the style, and the turn of the periods, make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but one or two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will retain and repeat, and they will go home as well satisfied, as people do from an opera, hum- ming all the way one or two favourite tunes that have struck their ears and were easily caught. Most people have ears, but few have judgment ; tickle those ears, and, depend upon it, you will catch their judgments, such as they are. Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in his time Eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, defines, in his Treatise de Oratore, an Orator to be such a man as never was, or never will be ; and by this fallacious argument, says, that he must know every art and science whatsoever, or how shall he speak upon them ? But with submission to so great au authority, my definition of an Orator is extremely different from, and, I believe, much truer than his. I call that man an Orator, who reasons justly, and expresses himself elegantly upon whatever subject he treats. Problems in Geometry, Equations in Algebra, Processes in Chymistry, and Experiments in Anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the objects of Eloquence ; and therefore I humbly conceive, that a man may be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of Geometry, Algebra, Chymistry, or Anatomy. The subjects of all Parliamentary debates, are subjects of common sense singly. Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I may contribute either to form or inform you. May my labour not be in vain ! and it will not, if you will but have half the concern for yourself, that I have tor you. Adieu ! CXXII. LONDON, December 12, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, Lord Clarendon, in his History, says of Mr. John Hampden, that lie had a head to contrive, a tongue to persuade, and a hand to execute, any mischief. I shall not now enter into the justness of this character of Mr. Hampden, to whose brave stand against the illegal demand of Shipmoney, we owe our present liberties ; LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 289 but I mention it to you as the character, which, with the alter- ation of one single word, Good, instead of Mischief, I would have you aspire to, and use your utmost endeavours to deserve. The head to contrive, God must to a certain degree have given you ; but it is in your own power greatly to improve it, by study, observation, and reflection. As for the tongue to persuade, it wholly depends upon yourself; and without it the best head will contrive to very little purpose. The hand to execute, depends likewise, in my opinion, in a great measure upon yourself. Serious reflection will always give courage in a good cause; and the courage arising from reflection is of a much superior nature to the animal and constitutional courage of a foot-soldier. The former is steady and unshaken, where the nodus is dignua vindice; the latter is oftener improperly than properly exerted, but always brutally. The second member of my text (to speak ecclesiastically) shall be the subject of my following discourse ; the tongue to persuade. As judicious Preachers recommend those virtues, which they think their several audiences want the most : such as truth and continence, at Court ; disinterestedness, in the City ; and sobriety in the Country. You must certainly, in the course of your little experience, have felt the different effects of elegant and inelegant speaking. Do you not suffer, when people accost you in a stammering or hesitating manner; in an untuneful voice, with false accents and cadences ; * puzzling and blundering through solecisms, bar- barisms, and vulgarisms ; mis-placing even their bad words, and inverting all method ? Does not this prejudice you against their matter, be it what it will ? nay, even against their persons ? I am sure it does me. On the other hand, Do you not feel yourself * It may be observed, however, that the questions of what are " false accents and cadences " in our language, appear to have been far less settled in Lord Chesterfield's time than at present. Dr. Johnson says : " When I published the plan for my dictionary, Lord Chesterfield told me that the word great should be pronounced so as to rhyme to state, and Sir William Yonge sent me word, that it should be pronounced so as to rhyme to seat, and that none but an Irishman would pronounce it grait. Now here were two men of the highest rank the one the best speaker in the House of Lords, the other the best speaker in the House of Commons differing entirely." Boswell's Life, Notes of March 27, 1772. M. VOL. I. U 290 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. inclined, prepossessed, nay, even engaged in favour of those who address you in the direct contrary manner ? The effects of a correct and adorned style, of method and perspicuity, are incred- ible towards persuasion ; they often supply the want of reason and argument ; but when used in the support of reason and argument, they are irresistible. The French attend very much to the purity and elegancy of their style, even in common conversation j inso- much, that it is a character to say of a man, qu'il narre bien. Their conversations frequently turn upon the delicacies of their language, and an Academy is employed in fixing it. The Crusra, in Italy has the same object ; and I have met with very few Italians, who did not speak their own language correctly and elegantly. How much more necessary is it for an Englishman to do so, who is to speak it in a public assembly, where the laws and liberties of his country are the subjects of his deliberation ? The tongue that would persuade, there, must not content itself with mere articulation. You know what pains Demosthenes took to correct his naturally bad elocution ; you know that he declaimed by the sea- side in storms, to prepare himself for the noise of the tumultuous assemblies he was to speak to ; and you can now judge of the correctness and elegancy of his style. He thought all these things of consequence, and he thought right; pray do you think so too. It is of the utmost consequence to you to be of that opinion. If you have the least defect in your elocution, take the utmost care and pains to correct it. Do not neglect your style, whatever language you speak in, or whomever you speak to, were it your footman. Seek always for the best words and the happiest expressions you can find. Do not content yourself with being barely understood ; but adorn your thoughts, and dress them as you would your person ; which, however well propor- tioned it might be, it would be very improper and indecent to exhibit naked, or even worse dressed than people of your sort are. I have sent you, in a packet which your Leipsig acquaintance, Duval, sends to his correspondent at Rome, Lord Bolingbroke'a book*, which he published about a year ago. I desire that you will read it over and over again, with particular attention to the style, and to all those beauties of oratory with which it is adorned. * " Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism, and on the Idea of a Patriot King." LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 291 Till I read that book, I confess I did not know all the extent and powers of the English language.* ***** ***** In your destination, you will have frequent occasions to speak in public ; to Princes and States abroad ; to the House of Com- mons, at home ; judge then, whether Eloquence is necessary for you or not; not only common Eloquence, which is rather free from faults, than adorned by beauties ; but the highest, the most shining degree of Eloquence. For God's sake, have this object always in your view, and in your thoughts. Tune your tongue early to persuasion ; and let no jarring, dissonant accents ever fall from it. Contract an habit of speaking well, upon every occasion, and neglect yourself in no one. Eloquence and good breeding, alone, with an exceeding small degree of parts and knowledge, will carry a man a great way ; with your parts and knowledge, then, how far will they not carry you ? Adieu CXXIII. LONDON, December 16, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, This letter will, I hope, find you safely arrived, and well settled at Rome, after the usual distresses and accidents of a winter journey; which are very proper to teach you patience. Your stay there, I look upon as a very important period of your life ; and I do believe, that you will fill it up well. I hope you will employ the mornings diligently with Mr. Harte, in acquiring weight; and the evenings in the best companies at Rome, in acquiring lustre. A formal, dull father, would recommend to you to plod out the evenings, too, at home over a book by a dim taper ; but I recommend to you the evenings for your pleasures, which are as much a part of your education, and almost as neces- sary a one, as your morning studies. Go to whatever assemblies or spectacles people of fashion go to, and, when you are there, do as they do. Endeavour to outshine those who shine there the most ; get the garbo, the gentilezza, the leggiadria of the Italians ; make love to the most impertinent beauty of condition that you * Here followed the character of Lord Bolingbroke, which will be found among the " Characters." 292 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. meet with, and be gallant with all the rest. Speak Italian, right or wrong, to everybody ; and if you do but laugh at yourself first for your bad Italian, nobody else will laugh at you for it. That is the only way to speak it perfectly ; which I expect you will do, because I am sure you may, before you leave Rome. View the most curious remains of antiquity with a classical spirit, and they will clear up to you many passages of the classical authors ; particularly the Trajan and the Antonine Columns ; where you find the warlike instruments, the dresses, and the triumphal ornaments of the Romans. Buy also the prints and explanations of all those respectable remains of Roman grandeur, and compare them with the originals. Most young travellers are contented with a general view of those things, say they are very fine, and then go about their business. I hope you will examine them in a very different way. Approfondissez everything you see or hear ; and learn, if you can, the why and the wherefore. Inquire into the meaning and the objects of the innumerable processions, which you will see at Rome at this time. Assist at all the ceremonies, and know the reason, or at least the pretences of them ; and, however absurd they may be, see and speak of them with great decency. Of all things, I beg of you not to herd with your own country- men, but to be always either with the Romans, or with the foreign Ministers residing at Rome. You are sent abroad to see the manners and characters, and learn the languages, of foreign countries ; and not to converse with English, in English ; which would defeat all those ends. Among your graver company, I recommend (as I have done before) the Jesuits to you; whose learning and address will both please and improve you : inform yourself, as much as you can, of the history, policy, and practice of that society, from the time of its founder, Iguatius of Loyola, who was himself a madman. If you would know their morality, you will find it fully and admirably stated in Les Lettres d'un Provincial, by the famous Monsieur Pascal ; * and it is a book very well worth your reading. Few people see what they see, or hear what they hear ; that is, they see and hear so inattentively * Pascal was born in Auvergne in 1623, and died in 1662. His " Letters," eighteen in number, were published the first in January 23, 1656, and the last, March 24, 1657. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 293 and superficially, that they are very little the better for what they do see and hear. This, I dare say, neither is, nor will be your case. You will understand, reflect upon, and consequently retain what you see and hear. You have still two years good, but no more, to form your char- acter in the world decisively ; for within two months after your arrival in England, it will be finally and irrevocably determined, one way or another, in the opinion of the public. Devote, there- fore, these two years to the pursuit of perfection; which ought to be everybody's object, though in some particulars unattain- able : those who strive and labour the most, will come the nearest to it. But, above all things, aim at it, in the two important arts of speaking, and pleasing ; without them, all your other talents are maimed and crippled. They are the wings upon which you must soar above other people ; without them you will only crawl with the dull mass of mankind. Prepossess by your air, address, and manners ; persuade by your tongue ; and you will easily execute what your head has contrived. I desire that you will send me very minute accounts from Rome ; not of what you see, but of whom you see : of your pleasures and entertainments. Tell me what companies you frequent most, and how you are received. Mi dica anche se la lingua Italiana va bene, e se la parla facilmente ; ma in ogni caso bisogna parlarla sempre per poter alia fine parlarla bene e pulito. Le donne I' insegnano meglio assai dei maestri. Addio Oaro Ragazzo, si ricordi del Garbo, della Oentilezza, e della Leggiadria; cose tante necessarie ad un Cavaliere. CXXIV. LONDON, December 19, O.S. 1749. DEAR BOY, The knowledge of mankind is a very useful knowledge for everybody a most necessary one for you, who are destined to an active public life. You will have to do with all sorts of char- acters ; you should, therefore, know them thoroughly in order to manage them ably. This knowledge is not to be gotten systematically, you must acquire it yourself by your own obser- vation and sagacity : I will give you such hints as I think may be useful landmarks in your intended progress. 294 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. I have often told you (and it is most true) that, with regard to mankind, we must not draw general conclusions from certain particular principles, though, in the main, true ones. We must not suppose, that because a man is a rational animal, he will, therefore, always act rationally ; or, because he has such or such a predominant passion, that he will act invariably and con- sequentially in the pursuit of it. No ; we are complicated machines ; and though we have one main-spring that gives motion to the whole, we have an infinity of little wheels, which, in their turns, retard, precipitate, and sometimes stop that motion. Let us exemplify : I will suppose ambition to be (as it commonly is) the predominant passion of a minister of state, and I will suppose that minister to be an able one ; will he, therefore, invariably pursue the object of that predominant pas- sion ? May I be sure that he will do so and so, because he ought ? Nothing less. Sickness, or low spirits, may damp this predominant passion ; humour and peevishness may triumph over it ; inferior passions may at times surprise it and prevail. Is this ambitious statesman amorous ? indiscreet and unguarded confidences, made in tender moments, to his wife or his mistress, may defeat all his schemes. Is he avaricious ? some great lucrative object suddenly presenting itself may unravel all the work of his ambition. Is he passionate ? contradiction and provocation (sometimes, it may be, too, artfully intended) may extort rash and inconsiderate expressions, or actions, destructive of his main object. Is he vain and open to flattery ? an artful flattering favourite may mislead him ; and even laziness may, at certain moments, make him neglect or omit the necessary steps to that height which he wants to arrive at. Seek first, then, for the predominant passion of the character which you mean to engage and influence, and address yourself to it ; but without defying or despising the inferior passions; get them in your interest too, for now and then they will have their turns. In many cases you may not have it in your power to contribute to the gratification of the prevailing passion ; then take the next best to your aid. There are many avenues to every man, and when you cannot get at him through the great one, try the serpentine ones, and you will arrive at last. There are two inconsistent passions, which, however, frequently LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 295 accompany each other, like man and wife; and which, like man and wife too, are commonly clogs upon each other. I mean ambi- tion aud avarice : the latter is often the true cause of the former ; and then is the predominant passion. It seems to have been so in Cardinal Mazarin ; who did anything, submitted to anything, and forgave anything, for the sake of plunder. He loved and courted power like an usurer, because it carried profit along with it. Whoever should have formed his opinion, or taken his measures singly, from the ambitious part of Cardinal Mazarin's character, would have found himself often mistaken. Some, who had found this out, made their fortunes by letting him cheat them at play. On the contrary, Cardinal Richelieu's prevailing passion seems to have been ambition, and his immense riches only the natural consequences of that ambition gratified; and yet, I make no doubt, but that ambition has now and then its turn with the former, and avarice with the latter. Richelieu (by the way) is so strong a proof of the inconsistency of human nature, that I cannot help observing to you, that while he absolutely governed both his King and his country, and was, in a great degree, the arbiter of the fate of all Europe, he was more jealous of the great reputation of Corneille than of the power of Spain ; and more flattered with being thought (what he was not) the best poet, than with being thought (what he certainly was) the greatest statesman in Europe ; and affairs stood still while he was concerting the criticism upon the Old. Could one think this possible if one did not know it to be true ? Though men are all of one composition, the several ingredients are so differently proportioned in each individual, that no two are exactly alike; and no one at all times like himself. The ablest man will sometimes do weak things ; the proudest man mean things ; the honestest man ill things ; and the wickedest man good ones. Study individuals then, and if you take (as you ought to do) their outlines from their prevailing passion, suspend your last finishing strokes till you have attended to and dis- covered the operations of their inferior passions, appetites, and humours. A man's general character may be that of the honestest man of the world : do not dispute it ; you might be thought envious or ill-natured ; but, at the same time, do not take this probity upon trust, to such a degree as to put your 296 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. life, fortune, or reputation in his power. This honest man may happen to be your rival in power, in interest, or in love ; three passions that often put honesty to most severe trials, in which it is too often cast : but first analyse this honest man yourself; and then you will be able to judge how far you may, or may not, with safety trust him. Women are much more like each other than men ; they have, in truth, but two passions, vanity and love ; these are their universal characteristics. An Agrippina may sacrifice them to ambition, or a Messalina to lust, but such instances are rare ; and in general, all they say and all they do tends to the gratification of their vanity or their love. He who flatters them most pleases them best ; and they are most in love with him who they think is the most in love with them. No adulation is too strong for them ; no assiduity too great ; no simulation of passion too gross : as, on the other hand, the least word or action that can possibly be construed into a slight or contempt, is unpardonable, and never forgotten. Men are, in this respect, tender too, and will sooner forgive an injury than an insult. Some men are inore captious than others ; some are always wrong-headed ; but every man living has such a share of vanity as to be hurt by marks of slight and contempt. Every man does not pretend to be a poet, a mathematician, or a statesman, and considered as such ; but every man pretends to common sense, and to fill his place in the world with common decency ; and consequently does not easily forgive those negligences, inattentions, and slights, which seem to call in question or utterly deny him both these pretensions. Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect any one virtue; who raise it above all others, and who, in a manner, inti- mate that they possess it exclusively. I say suspect them, for they are commonly impostors ; but do not be sure that they are always so ; for I have sometimes known saints really religious, blusterers really brave, reformers of manners really honest, and prudes really chaste. Pry into the recesses of their hearts your- self, as far as you are able, and never implicitly adopt a character upon common fame; which, though generally right as to the great outlines of characters, is always wrong in some particulars. Be upon your guard against those, who, upon very slight LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 297 acquaintance, obtrude their unasked and unmerited friendship and confidence upon you; for they probably cram you with them only for their own eating : but, at the same time, do not roughly reject them upon that general supposition. Examine further, and see whether those unexpected offers flow from a warm heart and a silly head, or from a designing head and a cold heart; for knavery and folly have often the same symptoms. In the first case there is no danger in accepting them, valeant quantum valere possunt. In the latter case it may be useful to seem to accept them, and artfully to turn the battery upon him who raised it. There is an incontinency of friendship among young fellows, who are associated by their mutual pleasures only, which has, very frequently, bad consequences. A parcel of warm hearts and inexperienced heads, heated by convivial mirth, and possibly a little too much wine, vow, and really mean at the time, eternal friendship to each other, and indiscreetly pour out their whole souls in common, and without the least reserve. These confi- dences are as indiscreetly repealed as they were made : for new pleasures and new places soon dissolve this ill-cemented connec- tion ; and then very ill uses are made of these rash confidences. Bear your part, however, in young companies ; nay, excel if you can in all the social and convivial joy and festivity that become youth. Trust them with your love-tales, if you please, but keep your serious views secret. Trust those only to some tried friend more experienced than yourself, and who, being in a different walk of life from you, is not likely to become your rival ; for I would not advise you to depend so much upon the heroic virtue of mankind as to hope or believe that your competitor will ever be your friend, as to the object of that competition. These are reserves and cautions very necessary to have, but very imprudent to show ; the volto sciolto should accompany them. CXXV. DEAR BOY, Great talents and great virtues (if you should have them) will procure you the respect and the admiration of mankind; but it is the lesser talents, the leniores virtutes, which must procure you their love and atfection. The former, unassisted and unadorned 298 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. by the latter, will extort praise ; but will at the same time excite both fear and envy ; two sentiments absolutely incompatible with love and affection. Caesar had all the great vices, and Cato all the great virtues that men could have. But Caesar had the leniores virtutes which Cato wanted ; and which made him beloved even by his enemies, and gained him the hearts of mankind in spite of their reason ; while Cato was not even beloved by his friends, notwithstanding the esteem and respect which they could not refuse to his virtues; and I am apt to think that if Caesar had wanted, and Cato possessed, those leniores virtutes, the former would not have attempted (at least with success), and the latter could have protected, the liberties of Rome. Mr. Addison, in his Cato, says of Csesar (and I believe with truth), Curse on his virtues, they've undone his country. By which he means those lesser but engaging virtues of gentle- ness, affability, complaisance, and good-humour. The knowledge of a scholar, the courage of a hero, and the virtue of a Stoic, will be admired; but if the knowledge be accompanied with arrogance, the courage with ferocity, and the virtue with in- flexible severity, the man will never be loved. The heroism of Charles XII. of Sweden (if his brutal courage deserves that name) was universally admired, but the man nowhere beloved. Whereas Henry IV. of France, who had full as much courage, and was much longer engaged in wars, was generally beloved upon account of his lesser and social virtues. We are all so formed, that our understandings are generally the dupes of our hearts, that is, of our passions ; and the surest way to the former is through the latter, which must be engaged by the leniores virtutes alone, and the manner of exerting them. The insolent civility of a proud man is (for example), if possible, more shock- ing than his rudeness could be ; because he shows you, by his manner, that he thinks it mere condescension in him ; and that his goodness alone bestows upon you what you have no pretence to claim. He intimates his protection instead of his friendship, by a gracious nod instead of an usual bow ; and rather signifies his consent that you may, than his invitation that you should, sit, walk, eat or drink with him. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 299 The costive liberality of a purse-proud man insults the dis- tresses it sometimes relieves ; he takes care to make you feel your own misfortunes, and the difference between your situation and his ; both which he insinuates to be justly merited : yours by your folly, his by his wisdom. The arrogant pedant does not com- municate but promulgates his knowledge : he does not give it you, but he inflicts it upon you ; and is (if possible) more desirous to show you your own ignorance than his own learning. Such manners as these, not only in the particular instances which I have mentioned, but likewise in all others, shock and revolt that little pride and vanity which every man has in his heart, and obliterate in us the obligation for the favour conferred, by re- minding us of the motive which produced, and the manner which accompanied it. These faults point out their opposite perfections, and your own good sense will naturally suggest them to you. But besides these lesser virtues, there are, what may be called the lesser talents or accomplishments, which are of great use to adorn and recommend all the greater ; and the more so, as all people are judges of the one, and but few are of the other. Every- body feels the impression which an engaging address, an agree- able manner of speaking, and an easy politeness, makes upon them ; and they prepare the way for the favourable reception of their betters. Adieu ! CXXVI. LONDON, December 26, O.S. 1749. MY DEAR FRIEND, The new-year is the season in which custom seems more particularly to authorise civil and harmless lies, under the name of compliments. People reciprocally profess wishes, which they seldom form ; and concern which they seldom feel. This is not the case between you and me, where truth leaves no room for compliments. Dii tibi dent annos, de fe nam ccetera sumes, was said formerly to one by a man who certainly did not think it.* With the varia- * Ovid to Tiberius. Epistles from Pontus, ii. 1, 53. Quoted already, and again in Letter of 1 Jan., 1753. 300 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. tion of one word only, I will, with great truth, say to you : I will make the first part conditional by changing, in the second, the nam into si. May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer ! or, may you rather die before you cease to be fit to live than after ! My true tenderness for you makes me think more of the manner than of the length of your life, and forbids me to wish it prolonged, by a single day, that should bring guilt, reproach, and shame upon you. I have not malice enough in my nature to wish that to my greatest enemy. You are the principle object of all my cares, the only object of all my hopes. I have now reason to believe that you will reward the former and answer the latter ; in that case, may you live long, for you must live happy : de ie nam ccetera sumes. Conscious virtue is the only solid foundation of all happiness ; for riches, power, rank, or whatever, in the common acceptation of the word, is supposed to constitute happiness, will never quiet, much less cure, the inward pangs of guilt. To that main wish I will add those of the good old nurse of Horace, in his Epistle to Tibullus : sapere (you have it in a good degree already), etfari ut possit quce sentiat. Have you that ? more, much more, is meant by it than common speech or mere articulation ; I fear that still remains to be wished for, and I earnestly wish "it you. Gratia and fama will inevitably accompany the above-mentioned qualifications. The valetudo is the only one that is not in your own power ; Heaven alone can grant it you, and may it do so abundantly ! As for the mundus victus, non deficiente crumend, do you deserve, and I will provide them. It is with the greatest pleasure that I consider the fair prospect which you have before you ; you have seen, read, and learned more at your age than most young fellows have done at two or three-and-twenty. Your destination is a shining one, and leads to rank, fortune, and distinction ; your education has been calculated for it ; and, to do you justice, that education has not been thrown away upon you. You want but two things, which do not want conjuration, but only care, to acquire eloquence and manners : that is, the graces of speech and the graces of be- haviour. You may have them, they are as much in your power as powdering your hair is : and will you let the want of them obscure (as it certainly will do) that shining prospect which presents LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 301 itself to you ? I am sure you will not. They are the sharp end, the point, of the nail that you are driving, which must make way first for the larger and more solid parts to enter. Supposing your moral character as pure, and your knowledge as sound, as I really believe them both to be, you want nothing for that perfection which I have so constantly wished you, and taken so much pains to give you, but eloquence and politeness. A man who is not born with a poetical genius can never be a poet, or, at best, an extreme bad one ; but every man who can speak at all can speak elegantly and correctly, if he pleases, by attending to the best authors and orators; and, indeed, I would advise those who do not speak elegantly not to speak at all ; for I am sure they will get more by their silence than by their speech. As for polite- ness ; whoever keeps good company and is not polite, must have formed a resolution, and taken some pains not to be so ; otherwise he would naturally and insensibly acquire the air, the address, and the turn of those he converses with. You will, proba,bly, in the course of this year, see as great a variety of good company, in the several capitals you will be at, as in any one year of your life; and consequently must (I should hope) catch some of their manners almost whether you will or not ; but, as I dare say you will endeavour to do it, I am convinced you will succeed, and thaC I. shall have the pleasure of finding you, at your return here, one of the best-bred men in Europe. I imagine, that when you receive my letters, and come to those parts of them which relate to Eloquence and Politeness, you say, or at least think, What, will he never have done upon these two subjects ? Has he not said all he can say upon them ? Why , the same thing ov^r and over again ? If you do think or say so, it must proceed from your not yet knowing the infinite importance of these two accomplishments ; which I cannot recommend to you too often, nor inculcate too strongly. But if, on the con- trary, you are convinced of the utility, or rather the necessity, of these two accomplishments, and are determined to acquire them, my repeated admonitions are only unnecessary ; and I grudge no trouble, which can possibly be of the least use to you. I flatter myself, that your stay at Rome will go a great way towards answering all my views : I am sure it will, if you employ your time, and your whole time, as you should. Your first 302 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. morning hours, I would have you devote to your graver studies with Mr. Harte ; the middle part of the day, I would have employed in seeing things ; and the evenings in seeing people. You are not, I hope, of a lazy, inactive turn, in either body or mind; and, in that case, the day is full long enough for everything; especially at Rome, where it is not the fashion, as it is here, and at Paris, to embezzle at least half of it at table. But if, by acci- dent, two or three hours are sometimes wanting for some useful purpose, borrow them from your sleep. Six, or at most seven hours' sleep is, for a constancy, as much as you or anybody can want ; more is only laziness and dozing; and is, I am persuaded, both unwholesome and stupifying. If, by chance, your business, or your pleasures, should keep you up till four or five o'clock in the morning, I would advise you, however, to rise exactly at your usual time, that you may not lose the precious morning hours ; and that the want of sleep may force you to go to bed earlier the next night. This is what I was advised to do when very young, by a very wise man ; and what, I assure you, I always did in the most dissipated part of my life. I have very often gone to bed at six in the morning, and rose, noth withstanding, at eight ; by which means I got many hours in the morning, that my com- panions lost; and the want of sleep obliged me to keep good hours the next, or at least the third night. To this method I owe the greatest part of my reading ; for, from twenty to forty, I should certainly have read very little, if I had not been up while my acquaintances were in bed. Know the true value of time ; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination ; never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. That was the rule of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt, who, by strictly following it, found time, not only to do the whole business of the Republic, but to pass his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as if he had had nothing else to do or think of. Adieu, my dear friend, for such I shall call you, and as such I shall, for the future, live with you. I disclaim all titles which imply an authority, that, I am persuaded, you will never give me occasion to exercise. Nultos, etfelices, most sincerely, to Mr. Harte. LORD CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS. CXXVIL LONDON, January 8, O.S 170 DEAR BOY, I have seldom or never written to you upon the subject of Religion and Morality : your own reason, I am persuaded, has given you true notions of both ; they speak best for themselves ; but, if they wanted assistance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example ; to your own reason, therefore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you, for the reality of both; and confine myself, in this letter, to the decency, the utility, and the neces- sity, of scrupulously preserving the appearances of both. When I say the appearances of religon, I do not mean that you should talk or act like a Missionary, or an enthusiast, nor that you should take up a controversial cudgel against whoever attacks the sect you are of; this would be both useless and unbecoming your age ; but I mean that you should by no moans seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, those libertine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which are the poor threadbare topics of half wits, and minute philosophers. Even those who are silly enough to laugh at their jokes, are still wise enough to distrust and detest their characters ; for, putting moral virtues at the highest, and religion at the lowest, religion must still be allowed to be a collateral security, at least, to virtue ; and every prudent man will sooner trust to two securities than to one. Whenever, therefore, you happen to be in company with those pretended esprits forts, or with thoughtless libertines, who laugh at all religion, to show their wit, or disclaim it, to complete their riot ; let no word or look of yours intimate the least approba- tion ; on the contrary, let a silent gravity express your dislike ; but enter not into the subject, and decline such unprofitable and indecent controversies. Depend upon this truth, That every man is the worse looked upon, and the less trusted, for being thought to have no religion; in spite of all the pompous and specious epithets he may assume, of esprit fort, freethinker, or moral philosopher ; and a wise atheist (if such a thing there is) would, for his own interest, and character in this world, pretend to some religion. Your moral character must be not only pure, but, like Caesar's 304 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. wife, unsuspected. The least speck or blemish upon it is fatal. Nothing degrades and vilifies more, for it excites and unites detestation and contempt. There are, however, wretches in the world profligate enough to explode all notions of moral good and evil; to maintain that they are merely local, and depend entirely upon the customs and fashions of different countries : nay, there are still, if possible, more unaccountable wretches j I mean those who affect to preach and propagate such absurd and infamous notions, without believing them themselves. These are the devil's hypocrites. Avoid as much as possible the company of such people, who reflect a degree of discredit and and infamy upon all who converse with them. But as you may, sometimes, by accident, fall into such company, take great care that no complaisance, no good-humour, no warmth of festal mirth, ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much less to approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On the other hand ; do not debate, nor enter into serious argument, upon a subject so much below it : but content yourself with telling these Apostles, that you know they are not serious ; that you have a much better opinion of them than they would have you have ; and that, you are very sure, they would not practise the doctrine they preach. But put your private mark upon them, and shun them for ever afterwards. There is nothing so delicate as your moral character, and nothing which it is your interest so much to preserve pure. Should you be suspected of injustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, etc., all the parts and knowledge in the world will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. A strange concurrence of circum- stances has sometimes raised very bad men to high stations ; but they have been raised like criminals to a pillory, where their persons and their crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the more known, the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. If, in any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are pardonable, it is in the case of morality ; though, even there, I would not advise you to a pharisaical pomp of virtue. But I will recommend to you a most scrupulous tenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say or do the least thing that may, ever so slightly, taint it. Show yourself, upon all occasions, the advocate, the friend, but not the bully, of LOED CHESTEKFIELD'S LETTERS. 306 Virtue. Colonel Chartres,* whom you have certainly heard of (who was, I believe, the most notorious blasted rascal in the world, and who had, by all sorts of crimes, amassed immense wealth), was so sensible of the disadvantage of a bad character, that I heard him once say, in his impudent profligate manner, that, though he would not give one farthing for virtue, he would give ten thousand pounds for a character; because he should get a hundred thousand by it : whereas he was so blasted that he had no longer an opportunity of cheating people. It is possible then that an honest man can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear ? There is one of the vices above-mentioned, into which people of good education, and, in the main, of good principles, some- times fall, from mistaken notions of skill, dexterity, and self- defence ; I mean Lying : though it is inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than any other. The prudence and neces- sity of often concealing the truth, insensibly seduces people to violate it. It is the only art of mean capacities, and the only refuge of mean spirits. Whereas concealing the truth, upon proper occasions, is as prudent and as innocent, as telling a lie, upon any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you a case in your own department. Suppose you are employed at a foreign Court, and that the Minister of that Court is absurd or impertinent enough to ask you what your instructions are, Will you tell him a lie ; which, as soon as found out, and found out it certainly will be, must destroy your credit, blast your char- acter, and render you useless there ? No. Will you tell him the truth then, and betray your trust ? As certainly, No. But you will answer with firmness, That you are surprised at such a question ; that you are persuaded he does not expect an answer to it; but that, at all events, he certainly will not have one. Such an answer will give him confidence in you ; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of which opinion you may afterwards make very honest and fair advantages. But if, in negotiations, * Francis Chartres, so frequently and deservedly lashed by Pope. He died in 1731, aged sixty-two. The populace at his funeral raised a riot, almost tore the body out of the coffin, and cast dead dogs into the grave along with it. See a note to Eoscoe's edition of Pope, vol. v. p. 326, ed. 1824. M. See Pope's Imitations of Horace, I. vi. 120. VOL. I. X 306 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. you are looked upon as a liar, and a trickster, no confidence will be placed in you, nothing will be communicated to you, and yon will be in the situation of a man who has been burnt in the cheek; and who, from that mark, cannot afterwards get an honest livelihood if he would, but must continue a thief. Lord Bacon very justly makes a distinction between Simu- lation and Dissimulation, and allows the latter rather than the former ; but still observes, that they are the weaker sort of Politicians who have recourse to either. A man who has strength of mind, and strength of parts, wants neither of them. Certainly (says he) the ablest men that ever were, have all had an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity ; but then, they were like horses well-managed ; for they could tell, passing well, when to stop, or turn : and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required di-t simulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad, of their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible. There are people who indulge themselves in a sort of lying, which they reckon innocent, and which in one sense is BO ; for it hurts nobody but themselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, begotten upon folly : these people deal in the marvellous ; they have seen some things that never existed ; they have seen other things which they never really saw, though they did exist, only because they were thought worth seeing. Has anything remarkable been said or done in any place, or in any company ? they immediately present and declare themselves eye or ear witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, or at least unperformed by others. They are always the heroes of their own fables ; and think that they gain consideration, or at least present attention, by it. Whereas, in truth, all they get is ridicule and contempt, not without a good degree of distrust ; for one must naturally con- clude, that he who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen anything so very extraordinary as to be almost incredible, I would keep it to myself, rather than, by telling it, give any one body room to doubt for one minute of my veracity. It is most certain, that the reputation of chastity is not so necessary for a woman, as that of veracity is for a man ; and with reason ; for it is possible LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 307 for a woman to be virtuous, though not strictly chaste; but it is not possible for a man to be virtuous without strict veracity. The slips of the poor women are sometimes mere bodily frailties ; but a lie in a man is a vice of the mind, and of the heart. For God's sake, be scrupulously jealous of the purity of your moral character ; keep it immaculate, unblemished, unsullied ; and it will be unsuspected. Defamation and calumny never attack, where there is no weak place ; they magnify, but they do not create. There is a very great difference between that purity of char- acter, which I so earnestly recommend to you, and the Stoical gravity and austerity of character, which I do by no means recommend to you. At your age, I would no more wish yon to be a Cato than a Clodius. Be, and be reckoned a man of pleasure, as well as a man of business. Enjoy this happy and giddy time of your life ; shine in the pleasures, and in the company of people of your own age. This is all to be done, and indeed only can be done, without the least taint to the purity of your moral character : for those mistaken young fellows, who think to shine by an impious or immoral licentiousness, shine only from their stinking, like corrupted flesh in the dark. Without this purity, you can have no dignity of character ; and without dignity of character, it is impossible to rise in the world. You must be respectable, if you will be respected. I have known people slattern away their character, without really pollut- ing it; the consequence of which has been, that they have become innocently contemptible ; their merit has been dimmed, their pretensions unregarded, and all their views defeated. Char- acter must be kept bright, as well as clean. Content yourself with mediocrity in nothing. In purity of character, and in politeness of manners, labour to excel all, if you wish to equal many. Adieu ! CXXVIII. LONDON, January 11, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, Yesterday I received a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 31st December, N.S., which I will answer soon; and for which I desire you to return him my thanks now. He tells me two 308 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. things that give me great satisfaction ; one is, that there are very few English at Rome; the other is, that you frequent the best foreign companies. This last is a very good symptom ; for a man of sense is never desirous to frequent those companions where he is not desirous to please, or where he finds that he displeases. It will not be expected in those companies, that at your age you should have the garbo, the disinvoltura, and the leggiaJria of a man of five-and-twenty, who had been long used to keep the best companies ; and therefore do not be discouraged, and think yourself either slighted or laughed at, because you see others, older and more used to the world, easier, more familiar, and consequently rather better received in those companies than yourself. In time your turn will come ; and if you do but show an inclination, a desire to please, though you should be embar- rassed, or even err in the means (which must necessarily happen to you at first), yet the will (to use a vulgar expression) will be taken for the deed ; and people, instead of laughing at you, will be glad to instruct you. Good-sense can only give you the great outlines of good- breeding; but observation and usage can alone give you the delicate touches and the fine colouring. You will naturally endeavour to show the utmost respect to people of certain ranks and characters, and consequently you will show it ; but the proper, the delicate manner of showing that respect, nothing but observation and time can give. I remember, that when, with all the awkwardness and rust of Cambridge about me, I was first introduced into good company, I was frightened out of my wits. I was determined to be what I thought civil ; I made fine low bows, and placed myself below everybody ; but when I was spoken to, or attempted to speak myself, obstupui, steteruntque comce, et vox faucibus hasit.* If I saw people whisper, I was sure it was at me ; and I thought myself the sole object of either the ridicule, or the censure of the whole company, who, God knows, did not trouble their heads about me. In this way I suffered, for some time, like a criminal at the bar j and should certainly have renounced all polite com- pany for ever, if I had not been so convinced of the absolute necessity of forming my manners upon those of the best com- * Vergil, ^Shield, ii. 774 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 309 panies, that I determined to persevere, and suffer anything- or everything rather than not compass that point. Insensibly it grew easier to me; and I began not to bow so ridiculously low, and to answer questions without great hesitation or stammering : if, now and then, some charitable people, seeing my embarrass- ment, and being desoeuvre themselves, came and spoke to me, I considered them as angels sent to comfort me ; and that gave me a little courage. I got more soon afterwards, and was intrepid enough to go up to a fine woman, and tell her that I thought it a warm day ; she answered me, very civilly, that she thought so too; upon which the conversation ceased, on my part, for some time, till she, goodnaturedly resuming it, spoke to me thus : " I see your embarrassment, and I am sure that the few words you said to me cost you a great deal ; but do not be discouraged for that reason, and avoid good company ; we see that you desire to please, and that is the main point ; you want only the manner, and you think that you want it still more than yon do. You must go through your noviciate before you can profess good-breeding ; and, if you will be my novice, I will present you to my acquaintance as such." You will easily imagine how much this speech pleased me, and how awkwardly I answered it ; I hemmed once or twice (for it gave me a burr in my throat) before I could tell her that I was very much obliged to her j that it was true that I had a great deal of reason to distrust my own behaviour, not being used to fine company ; and that I should be proud of being her novice, and receiving her instructions. As soon as I had fumbled out this answer, she called up three or four people to her, and said : Sqavez vous (for she was a foreigner, and I was abroad) quej'ai entrepris cejeune homme, et qu'il lefaut rassurer? Pour moi,Je crois en avoir fait la conquete, car il s'est ernancipe dans le moment au point de me dire, en iremblant, qu'il faisoit chaud. Ilfaut que vous m'aidiez a le derouiller. II luifaut necessaire- ment line passion, et s'il ne m'en juge pas digne, nous lui en chercherons quelque autre. Au reste, mon novice, n'allez pas vous encanailler avec des filles d'opera et des comediennes qui vous epargneront les fraix et du sentiment et de la politesse, mais qui vous en couteront bien plus a tout autre egard. Je vous le dis encore ; si vous vous encanaillez vous etex perdu, mon ami. Ges 310 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. malhaureuses ruineront et votre fortune, et votre sante, corrom- peront vos moeurs, et vous n'aurez jamais le ton de la bonne com- pagnie. The company laughed at this lecture, and I was stunned with it. I did not know whether she was serious or in jest. By turns I was pleased, ashamed, encouraged, and dejected. But when I found afterwards, that both she, and those to whom she had presented me, countenanced and protected me in company, I gradually got more assurance, and began not to be ashamed of endeavouring to be civil. I copied the best masters, at first servilely, afterwards more freely, and at last I joined habit and invention. All this will happen to you, if you persevere in the desire of pleasing, and shining as a man of the world ; that part of your character is the only one, about which I have at present the least doubt. I cannot entertain the least suspicion of your moral character ; you learned character is out of question. Your polite character is now the only remaining object that gives me the least anxiety; and you are now in the right way of finishing it. Your constant collision with good company will, of course, smooth and polish you. I could wish that you would say, to the five or six men or women with whom you are the most acquainted, that you are sensible, that, from youth and inexperience, you must make many mistakes in good- breeding; that you beg of them to correct you, without reserve, wherever they see you fail ; and that you shall take such admonitions as the strongest proofs ot their friendship. Such a confession and application will be very engaging to those to whom you make them. They will tell others of them, who will be pleased with that disposition, and, in a friendly manner, tell you of any little slip or error. The Duke de Nivernois would, I am sure, be charmed, if you dropped such a thing to him ; adding, that you loved to address yourself always to the best masters. Observe also, the different modes of good-breeding of several nations, and conform yourself to them respectively. Use an easy civility with the French, more ceremony with the Italians, and still more with the Germans; but let it be without embarrassment, and with ease. Bring it, by use, to be habitual to you ; for, if it seems unwilling and forced, it will never please. Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et res. Acquire an easiness and versatility of manners, as well as LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. 311 of mind ; and, like the chameleon, take the hue of the company you are with. There is a sort of veteran women of condition, who, having lived always in the grand monde, and having possibly had some gallantries, together with the experience of live-and-twenty or thirty years, form a young fellow better than all the rules that can be given him. These women being past their bloom, are extremely flattered by the least attention from a young fellow; and they will point out to him those manners and atten- tions that pleased and engaged them, when they were in the pride of their youth and beauty. Wherever you go, make some of those women your friends ; which a very little matter will do. Ask their advice, tell them your doubts or difficulties, as to your behaviour : but take great care not to drop one word of their experience ; for experience implies age, and the suspicion of age, no woman, let her be ever so old, ever forgives. I long for your picture, which Mr. Harte tells me is now drawing. I want to see your countenance, your air, and even your dress ; the better they all three are, the better ; I am not wise enough to despise any one of them. Your dress, at least, is in your own power, and I hope that you mind it to a proper degree. Yours. Adieu. cxxrx. LONDON, January 18, O.S. 1750. MY DEAB FRIKND, I consider the solid part of your little edifice as so near being finished and completed, that my only remaining care is about the embellishments ; and that must now be your principal care too. Adorn yourself with all those graces and accomplishments, which, without solidity, are frivolous; but without which, solidity is, to a great degree, useless. Take one man, with a very moderate degree of knowledge, but with a pleasing figure, a prepossessing address, graceful in all that he says and does, polite, Hani, and, in short, adorned with all the lesser talents ; and take another man, with sound sense and pro- found knowledge, but without the above-mentioned advantages ; the former will not only get the better of the latter, in every 312 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. pursuit of every kind, but in truth there will be no sort of com- petition between them. But can every man acquire these advantages ? I say Yes, if he please ; supposing he is in a situa- tion, and in circumstances, to frequent good company. Attention, observation, and imitation, will most infallibly do it. When you see a man, whose first abord strikes you, pre- possesses you in his favour, and makes you entertain a good opinion of him, you do not know why : analyse that abord, and examine, within yourself, the several parts that compose it; and you will generally find it to be the result, the happy assemblage, of modesty unembarrassed, respect without timidity, a genteel, but unaffected attitude of body and limbs, an open, cheerful, but unsmirking countenance, and a dress, by no means negligent, and yet not foppish. Copy him, then, not servilely, but as some of the greatest masters of painting have copied others; insomuch, that their copies have been equal to the originals, both as to beauty and freedom. When you see a man, who is universally allowed to shine as an agreeable well-bred man, and a fine gentleman (as for example, the Duke de Nivernois), attend to him, watch him carefully ; observe in what manner he addresses himself to his superiors, how he lives with his equals, and how he treats his inferiors. Mind his turn of conversation, in the several situations of morning visits, the table, and the evening amusements. Imitate., without mimicking him ; and be his duplicate, but not his ape. You will find that he takes care never to say or do anything that can be construed into a slight, or a negligence; or that can, in any degree, mortify people's vanity and self-love ; on the contrary, you will perceive that he makes people pleased with him, by making them first pleased with themselves : he shows respect, regard, esteem, and attention, where they are severally proper ; he sows them with care, and he reaps them in plenty. These amiable accomplishments are all to be acquired by use and imitation ; for we are, in truth, more than half what we are, by imitation. The great point is, to choose good models, and to study them with care. People insensibly contract, not only the air, the manners, and the vices, of those with whom they commonly converse, but their virtues too, and even their way of thinking. This is so true, that I have known very plain LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 313 understandings catch a certain degree of wit, by constantly conversing with those who had a great deal. Persist, therefore, in keeping the best company, and you will insensibly become like them; but if you add attention and observation, you will very soon be one of them. This inevitable contagion of company, shows you the necessity of keeping the best, and avoiding all other; for in every one, something will stick. You have hitherto, I confess, had very few opportunities of keeping polite company. Westminster school is, undoubtedly, the seat of illiberal manners and brutal behaviour. Leipsig, I suppose, is not the seat of refined and elegant manners. Venice, I believe, has done something , Rome, I hope, will do a great deal more ; and Paris will, I dare say, do all that you want : always suppos- ing, that you frequent the best companies, and in the intention of improving and forming yourself; for, without that intention, nothing will do. I here subjoin a list of all those necessary, ornamental accom- plishments (without which, no man living can either please or rise in the world) which hitherto I fear you want, and which only require your care and attention to possess. To speak elegantly, whatever language you speak in ; without which, nobody will hear you with pleasure, and, consequently, yon will speak to very little purpose. An agreeable and distinct elocution ; without which nobody will hear you with patience ; this everybody may acquire, who is not born with some imperfection in the organs of speech. You are not ; and therefore it is wholly in your power. You need take much less pains for it than Demosthenes did. A distinguished politeness of manners and address; which common sense, observation, good company, and imitation, will infallibly give you, if you will accept of it. A genteel carriage, and graceful motions, with the air of a man of fashion. A good dancing master, with some care on your part, and some imitation of those who excel, will soon bring this about. To be extremely clean in your person, and perfectly well dressed, according to the fashion, be that what it will. Your negligence of dress, while you were a schoolboy, was pardonable, but. would not be so now. 314 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS Upon the whole, take it for granted, that, without these accomplishments, all you know, and all you can do, will avail you very little. Adieu ! cxxx. LONDON, January 25, O.S. 1750. MY DBA a FRIEND, It is so long since I have heard from you, that I suppose Borne engrosses every moment of your time ; and if it engrosses it in the manner I could wish, I willingly give up my share of it. I would rather prodesse quam conspici. Put out your time but to good interest, and I do not desire to borrow much of it. Your studies, the respectable remains of antiquity, and your evenings' amusements, cannot, and indeed ought not, to leave you much time to write. You will probably never see Rome again ; and therefore you ought to see it well now : by seeing it well, I do not mean only the buildings, statues, and paintings ; though they undoubtedly deserve your attention ; but I mean seeing into the constitution and government of it. But these things certainly occur to your own common sense. How go your pleasures at Rome ? Are you in fashion there ; that is, do you live with the people who are ? The only way of being so yourself, in time. Are you domestic enough in any considerable house to be called le petit Stanhope ? Has any woman of fashion and good-breeding taken the trouble of abus- ing and laughing at you amicably to your face ? Have you found a good decrotteuse ? For these are the steps by which you must rise to politeness. I do not presume to ask if you have any attachment, because I believe you will not make me your confident ; but this I will say eventually, that if you have one, il fauf bien payer d'attentions et de petits soins, if you would have your sacrifice propitiously received. Women are not so much taken by beauty as men are, but prefer those men who show them the most attention. Would you engage the lovely fair ? With gentlest manners treat her; With tender looks and graceful air, In softest accents greet her. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 315 Verse were but vain, the Muses fail, Without the Graces' aid ; The God of Verse could not prevail To stop the flying maid. Attention by attentions gain, And merit care by cares ; So shall the nymph reward your pain, And Venus crown your prayers.* Probatum est. A man's address and manner weighs much more with them than his beauty; and without them, the Abbati and the Mon- signori will get the better of you. This address and manner should be exceedingly respectful, but at the same time easy and unembarrassed. Your chit-chat or entregent with them, neither can nor ought to be very solid ; but you should take care to turn and dress up your trifles prettily, and make them every now and then convey indirectly some little piece of flattery. A fan, a ribband, or a head-dress, are great materials for gallant dissertations, to one who has got le ton leger et aimable de la bonne com/pagnie. At all events, a man had better talk too much to women than too little ; they take silence for dulness, unless v:here they think the passion they have inspired occasions it ; and in that case they adopt the notion, that Silence in love betrays more woe Than words though ne'er so witty ; The beggar that is dumb, we know, Deserves a double pity. A propos of this subject ; what progress do you make in that language in which Charles V. said that he would choose to speak to his mistress ? f Have you got all the tender diminutives in elta, ina, and ettina ; which I presume he alluded to ? You already possess, and I hope take care not to forget, that language which he reserved for his horse. J You are absolutely master too, of that language in which he said he would converse with men; French. But in every language, pray attend carefully to the choice of your words and to the turn of your expression : indeed, it is a point of very great consequence. To be heard with success, you must be L?ard with pleasure : words are the * These three stanzas are by Lord Chesterfield himself. M. f Italian. J German. 316 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS dress of thoughts, which should no more be presented in rags, tatters, and dirt than your person should. By the way, do you mind your person and your dress sufficiently ? Do you take great care of your teeth ? Pray have them put in order by the best operator at Rome. Are you be-laced, be-powdered, and be-feafchered, as other young fellows are, and should be ? At your age, il faut du brillant, et meme un pen de fracas, mais point de mediocre, il faut un air vif, aise et noble. Avec les hommes, un maintien respectueux et un meme terns respectable ; avec les femmes, un caquet leger enjoue, et badin, mais toujours fort poli. To give you an opportunity of exerting your talents, I send you here enclosed a letter of recommendation from Monsieur Villettes to Madame de Simonetti at Milan, a woman of the first fashion and consideration there ; and I shall in my next send you another from the same person to Madame Clerici at the same place. As these two ladies' houses are the resort of all the people of fashion at Milan,* those two recommendations will introduce you to them all. Let me know in due time if you have received these two letters, that I may have them renewed in case of accidents. Adieu ! my dear friend ! study hard ; divert yourself heartily : distinguish carefully between the pleasures of a man of fashion and the vices of a scoundrel : pursue the former and abhor the latter, like a man of sense. CXXXI. LONDON, February 5, O.S. 1750. MY DEAB FKIEND, Very few people are good economists of their fortune, and still fewer of their time ; and yet of the two the latter is the most precious. I heartily wish you to be a good economist of both ; and you are now of an age to begin to think seriously of these two important articles. Young people are apt to think * Of a shortly subsequent period, Monsieur Dutens writes : " II y a beaucoup de grandes maisous riches a Milan. Dans le temps que j'y etois les maisons Litta, Clerici, etc., y i'aisoient la premiere figure." Mem. d'un Voyageur, vol. i. p. 327. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 317 they have so much time before them, that they may squander what they please of it, and yet have enough left ; as very great fortunes have frequently seduced people to a ruinous profusion : fatal mistakes ! always repented of, but always too late ! Old Mr. Lowndes,* the famous Secretary of the Treasury in the reigns of King William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, used to say, take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves. To this maxim, which he not only preached but practised, his two grandsons at this time owe the very considerable fortunes that he left them. This holds equally true as to time ; and I most earnestly re- commend to you the care of those minutes and quarters of hours, in the course of the day, which people think too short to deserve their attention ; and yet, if summed up at the end of the year, would amount to a very considerable portion of time. For example : you are to be at such a place at twelve, by appoint- ment ; you go out at eleven to make two or three visits first ; those persons are not at home ; instead of sauntering away that intermediate time at a coffee-house, and possibly alone, return home, write a letter, beforehand, for the ensuing post, or take up a good book ; I do not mean Descartes, Mallebranche, Locke, or Newton, by way of dipping ; but some book of rational amusement; and detached pieces, as Horace, Boileau, Waller, La Bruyere, etc. This will be so much time saved, and by no means ill employed. Many people lose a great deal of time by reading, for they read frivolous and idle books; such as tbe absurd romances of the two last centuries, where characters that never existed are insipidly displayed, and sentiments that were never felt pompously described ; the Oriental ravings and ex- travagances of the Arabian Nights and Mogul Tales; or the new flimsy brochures that now swarm in France, of Fairy Tales, Reflexions sur le Coeur et I'Esprit, Metaphysique de V Amour, Analyse de Beaux Sentiments ; and such sort of idle frivolous stuff, that nourishes and improves the mind just as much as whipped cream would the body. Stick to the best established books in every language ; the celebrated poets, historians, orators * William Lowndes, who represented St. Mawes and other places. He is chiefly remarkable for his elaborate speech in the case of Ashby and White, January 25, 1704. M. See Letter XL VI. 318 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. or philosophers. By these means (to use a city metaphor) you will make fifty per cent, of that time of which others do not make above three or four, or probably nothing at all. Many people lose a great deal of their time by laziness ; they loll and yawn in a great chair, tell themselves that they have not time to begin anything then, and that it will do as well another time. This is a most unfortunate disposition, and the greatest obstruction to both knowledge and business. At your age, you have no right nor claim to laziness ; I have, if I please, being emeritus. You are but just listed in the world, and must be active, diligent, indefatigable. If ever you propose commanding with dignity, you must serve up to it with diligence. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. Despatch is the soul of business ; and nothing contributes more to Despatch, than Method. Lay down a method for every- thing, and stick to it inviolably, as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in the week for your accounts, and keep them together in their proper order ', by which means they will require very little time, and you can never be much cheated. Whatever letters and papers you keep, docket and tie them up in their respective classes, so that you may instantly have recourse to any one. Lay down a method also for your reading, for which you allot a certain share of your mornings ; let it be in a consistent and consecutive course, and not in that desultory and immethodical manner, in which many people read scraps of different authors, upon different subjects. Keep a useful and short common-place book of what you read, to help your memory only, and not for pedantic quotations. Never read History without having maps, and a chronological book, or tables, lying by you, and constantly recurred to ; with- out which, History is only a confused heap of facts. One method more I recommend to you by which I have found great benefit, even in the most dissipated part of my life ; that is, to rise early, and at the same hour every morning, how late soever you may have sat up the night before. This secures you an hour or two, at least, of reading or reflection, before the common interrup- tions of the morning begin ; and it will save your constitution, by forcing you to go to bed early, at least one night in three. You will say, it may be, as many young people would, that all LOAD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 319 this order and method is very troublesome, only fit for dull people, and a disagreeable restraint upon the noble spirit and fire of youth. I deny it; and assert, on the contrary, that it will procure you, both more time and more taste for your pleasures ; and, so far from being troublesome to you, that, after you have pursued it a month, it would be troublesome to you to lay it aside. Business whets the appetite, and gives a taste of pleasures, as exercise does to food ; and business can never be done without method ; it raises the spirits for pleasures ; and a spectacle, a ball, an assembly, will much more sensibly affect a man who has employed, than a man who has lost, the preceding part of the day ; nay, I will venture to say, that a fine lady will seem to have more charms, to a man of study or business, than to a saunterer. The same listlessness runs through his whole conduct, and he is as insipid in his pleasures, as inefficient in everything else. I hope you earn your pleasures, and consequently taste them ; for, by the way, I know a great many men, who call themselves Men of Pleasure, but who, in truth, have none. They adopt other people's indiscriminabely, but without any taste of their own. I have known them often inflict excesses upon themselves, because they thought them genteel ; though they sat as awk- wardly upon them as other people's clothes would have done. Have no pleasures but your own, and then you will shine in them. What are yours ? Give me a short history of them. Tenez vous votre coin a table, et dans les bonnes compagnies ? y brillez vous du cote de la politesse, de I'enjouement, du badinage ? Etes vous galant ? Filez vous le parfait amour ? Est-il question deflechir par vos soins et par vos attentions les rigueurs de quelque fiere Princesse ? You may safely trust me ; for, though 1 am a severe censor of vice and folly, I am a friend and advocate for pleasures, and will contribute all in my power to yours. There is a certain dignity to be kept up in pleasures, as well as in business. In love, a man may lose his heart with dignity ; but if he loses his nose, he loses his character into the bargain. At table, a man may with decency have a distinguishing palate; but indiscriminate voraciousness degrades him to a glutton. A man may play with decency ; but if he games he is disgraced. Vivacity and wit make a man shine in company ; but trite jokes and loud laughter reduce him to buffoon. Every virtue, they 320 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. say, has its kindred vice ; every pleasure, I am sure, has its neighbouring disgrace. Mark carefully, therefore, the line that separates them, and rather stop a yard short, than step an inch beyond it. I wish to God that you had as much pleasure in following my advice, as I have in giving it you ; and you may the easier have it, as I give you none that is inconsistent with your pleasure. In all that I say to you, it is your interest alone that I consider : trust to my experience ; you know you may to my affection. Adieu ! I have received no letter yet from you or Mr. Harte. CXXXII. LONDON, February 8, O.S. 1750. MY DEAE FRIEND, You have, by this time, I hope and believe, made such a progress in the Italian language, that you can read it with ease ; I mean the easy books in it : and indeed, in that, as well as in every other language, the easiest books are generally the best ; for, whatever author is obscure and difficult in his own language, certainly does not think clearly. This is, in my opinion, the case of a celebrated Italian author ; to whom the Italians, from the admiration they have of him, have given the epithet of il divino ; I mean, Dante. Though I formerly knew Italian extremely well, I could never understand him ; for which reason I had done with him, fully convinced that he was not worth the pains necessary to understand him. The good Italian authors are, in my inind, but few ; I mean authors of invention ; for there are, undoubtedly, very good historians, and excellent translators. The two poets worth your reading, and I was going to say, the only two, are Tasso and Ariosto. Tasso's Gierusalemme Liberata is altogether unques- tionably a fine poem, though it has some low, and many false thoughts in it : and Boileau very justly makes it the mark of a bad taste, to compare le clinquant du Tasse, a I'or de Virgile.* The image, with which he adorns the introduction of his Epic * See Letter CLII., 24 Dec., 1750. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 321 Poem, is low and disgusting; it is that of a froward, sick, puking child, who is deceived into a dose of necessary physic by du bonbon. The verses are these : Oosi all' egro fanciul porgiamo aspersi Di soavi licor gli orli del vaso : Succhi amari ingannato intanto ei beve, B dall' inganno suo vita riceve. However, the poem, with all its faults about it, may justly be called a fine one. If fancy, imagination, invention, description, etc., constitute a poet, Ariosto is, unquestionably, a great one. His Orlando, it is true, is a medley of lies and truths, sacred and profane wars, loves, enchantments, giants, mad heroes, and adventurous damsels; but then, he gives it you very fairly for what it is, and does not pretend to put it upon you for the true Epopee, or Epic Poem. He says, Le Donne, i Cavalier, 1' arme, gli amori, Le cortesie, 1' audaci imprese, io canto. The connections of his stories are admirable, his reflections just, his sneers and ironies incomparable, and his painting excellent. When Angelica,* after having wandered over half the world alone with Orlando, pretends, notwithstanding, ch' el fior virginal cosi avea salvo, Come selo portb dal matern' alvo. The Author adds, very gravely, Forse era ver, ma non perb credibile A chi del senso suo fosse Signore. Astolpho's being carried to the moon, by St. John, in order to look for Orlando's lost wits, at the end of the 34th book, and the many lost things that he finds there', is a most happy extra- vagancy, and contains, at the same time, a great deal of sense. I would advise you to read this poem with attention. It is, also, the source of half the tales, novels, and plays that have been written since. The Pastor Fido of Guarini is so celebrated, that you should read it ; but in reading it, you will judge of the great propriety of the characters. A parcel of shepherds and shepherdesses, with * See Letter to Dayrolles of April 6, 1753. VOL. I. Y 322 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. the true pastoral simplicity, talk metaphysics, epigrams, concetti, and quibbles, by the hour, to each other. The Aminta del Tasso is much more what it is intended to be, a Pastoral; the shepherds, indeed, have their concetti, and their antitheses ; but are not quite so sublime and abstracted as those in Pastor Fido. I think that you will like it much the best of the two. Petrarca is, in my mind, a sing-song love-sick Poet; much admired, however, by the Italians ; but an Italian, who should think no better of him than I do, would certainly say, that he deserved his Laura better than his Lauro ; and that wretched quibble would be reckoned an excellent piece of Italian wit. The Italian prose-writers (of invention I mean) which I would recommend to your acquaintance, are Machiavelli and Bocaccio ; the former, for the established reputation which he has acquired, of a consummate politician (whatever my own private sentiments may be of either his politics or his morality), the latter, for his great invention, and for his natural and agreeable manner of telling his stories. Guicciardini, Bentivoglio, Davila, etc., are excellent historians, and deserve being read with attention. The nature of History checks, a little, the flights of Italian imaginations ; which, in works of invention, are very high indeed. Translations curb them still more; and their translations of the Classics are in- comparable ; particularly the first ten, translated in the time of Leo the Xth, and inscribed to him, under the title of the Collana. That original Collana has been lengthened since ; and, if I mis- take not, consists, now, of one hundred and ten volumes. From what I have said, you will easily guess that I meant to put you upon your guard ; and not to let your fancy be dazzled and your taste corrupted by the concetti, the quaintnesses, and false thoughts which are too much the characteristics of the Italian and Spanish authors. I think you are in no great danger, as your taste has been formed upon the best ancient models, the Greek and Latin authors of the best ages, who indulge them- selves in none of the puerilities I have hinted at. I think I may say with truth, that true wit, sound taste, and good sense, are now as it were engrossed by France and England. Your old acquaintances, the Germans, I fear, are a little below them ; and LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 323 your new acquaintances, the Italians, are a great deal too much above them. The former, I donbt, crawl a little ; the latter, I am sure, very often fly out of sight. I recommended to you, a good many years ago, and I believe you then read, La Maniere de Bien Penser dans les Ouvrages d' Esprit, par le Pere Bouhours ; and I think it is very well worth your reading again, now that you can judge of it better. I do not know any book that contributes more to form a true taste ; and you find there, into the bargain, the most celebrated passages both of the ancients and the moderns ; which refresh your memory with what you have formerly read in them separately. It is followed by a book much of the same size, by the same author entitled Suite des Pensees Ing6nieuses. To do justice to the best English and French authors, they, have not given into that false taste ; they allow no thoughts to be good that are not just and founded- upon truth. The age of Louis XIV. was very like the Augustan; Boileau, Moliere, La Fontaine, Racine, etc., established the true and exposed the false taste. The reign of King Charles II. (meritorious in no other respect) banished false taste out of England, and proscribed puns, quibbles, acrostics, etc. Since that, false wit has renewed its attacks and endeavoured to recover its lost empire, both in England and France, but without success ; though I must say with more success in France than in England ; Addison, Pope, and Swift having vigorously defended the rights of good sense ; which is more than can be said of their contemporary French authors ; who have of late had a great tendency to le faux brillant, le rafinement, et I'entortillement. And Lord Roscommon would be more in the right now than he was then, in saying, that The English, bullion of one sterling line, Drawn to French wire, would through whole pages shine. Lose no time, my dear child, I conjure you, in forming your taste, your manners, your mind, your everything; you have but two years time to do it in ; for whatever you are, to a certain degree, at twenty, you will be, more or less, all the rest of your life. May it be a long and happy one. Adieu ! 324 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. CXXXIII. LONDON, February 22, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, If the Italian of your letter to Lady Chesterfield was all your own, I am very well satisfied with the progress which you have made in that language in so short a time ; according to that gradation you will, in a very little time more, be master of it. Except at the French Ambassador's, I believe you hear only Italian spoken, for the Italians speak very little French, and that little generally very ill. The French are even with them, and generally speak Italian as ill ; for I never knew a Frenchman in my life who could pronounce the Italian ce ci, or ge gi. Your desire of pleasing the Roman ladies will of course give you not only the desire, but the means of speaking to them elegantly in their own language. The Princess Borghese, I am told, speaks French both ill and unwillingly ; and therefore you should make a merit to her of your application to her language. She is, by a kind of prescription (a longer than she would probably wish), at the head of the beau monde at Rome ; * and can, consequently, establish or destroy a young fellow's fashionable character. If she declares him amabile e leggiadro, others will think him so, or at least, those who do not, will not dare to say so. There are in every great town some such women, whose rank, beauty, and fortune have conspired to place them at the head of the fashion. They have generally been gallant, but within certain decent bounds. Their gallantries have taught both them and their admirers good- breeding, without which they could keep up no dignity ; but would be vilified by those very gallantries which * A good account of the society at Rome a few years before this period is given by the President De Brosses, and another, a few years after it, by Monsieur Dutens. The former describes the Princess Borghese as "amiable, enjouee, spirituelle, galante, et d'une figure agreable." (Lettres sur Vltalie, vol. ii., p. 213, ed. 1836.) Cardinal Alexander Albani, for whom Lord Chesterfield had sent his son a letter of introduction, appears to have maintained during nearly half a century great state and hospitality, and shown especial kindness to the English. According to Dutens, "II disoit toujours 'nos bons amis, les Anglois.' et il m'entreteuoit souvent d'une id6e favorite qu'il desiroit fort realiser ; c'e"toit de former une alliance entre la Cour de Londres et la Oour de Rome." Nemoires, vol. i., p. 296. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 325 put them in vogue. It is with these women, as with ministers and favourites at Court ; they decide upon fashion and characters, as these do on fortunes and preferments. Pay particular court, therefore, wherever you are, to these female sovereigns of the beau monde; their recommendation is a passport through all the realms of politeness. But then, remember that they require minute, officious attentions. You should, if possible, guess at and anticipate all their little fancies and inclinations ; make yourself familiarly and domestically useful to them, by offering yourself for all their little commissions, and assisting in doing the honours of their houses, and entering with seeming unction into all their little grievances, bustles, views ; for they are always busy. If you are once ben ficcato at the Palazzo Borghese, you will soon be in fashion at Rome ; and being in fashion will soon fashion you; for that is what you must now think of very seriously. I am sorry that there is no good dancing- master at Rome, to form your exterior air and carriage, which, I doubt, are not yet the genteelest in the world ; but you may, and I hope you will, in the mean time, observe the air and carriage of those who are reckoned to have the best, and form your own upon them. Base, gracefulness, and dignity, compose the air and address of a man of fashion, which is as unlike the affected attitudes and motions of a petit maitre, as it is to the awkward, negligent, clumsy, and slouching manner of a booby. I am extremely pleased with the account Mr. Harte has given me of the allotment of your time at Rome. Those five hours every morning which you employ in serious studies with Mr. Harte are laid out with great interest, and will make you rich all the rest of your life. I do not look upon the subsequent morning hours, which you pass with your cicerone, to be ill-disposed of ; there is a kind of connexion between them; and your evening diversions in good company are, in their way, as useful and necessary. This is the way for you to have both weight and lustre in the world ; and this is the object which I always had in view in your education. Adieu, my friend ! Go on and prosper. Mr. Grevenkop has just received Mr. Harte's letter of the 19th, N.S. 326 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. CXXXIV. LONDON, March 8, O.S. 1750. Young as you are, I hope you are in haste to live; by living, I mean living with lustre and honour to yourself, with utility to society, doing what may deserve to be written, or writing what may deserve to be read ; I should wish both. Those who consider life in that light will not idly lavish one moment. The present moments are the only ones we are sure of, and as such the most valuable ; but yours are doubly so at your age, for the credit, the dignity, the comfort, and the pleasure of all your future moments depend upon the use you make of your present ones. I am extremely satisfied with your present manner of employing your time ; but will you always employ it as well ? I am far from meaning always in the same way, but I mean as well in propor- tion in the variation of age and circumstances. You now study five hours every morning ; I neither suppose that you will, nor desire that you should, do so for the rest of your life. Both business and pleasure will justify and equally break in upon those hours ; but then, will you always employ the leisure they leave you in useful studies ? If you have but an hour, will you improve that hour, instead of idling it away ? While you have such a friend and monitor with you as Mr. Harte, I am sure you will; but, suppose that business and situations should, in six or seven months, call Mr. Harte away from you, tell me truly, what may I expect and depend upon from you when left to yourself ? May I be sure that you will employ some part of every day in adding something to that stock of knowledge which he will have left you ? May I hope that you will allot one honr in the week to the care of your own affairs, to keep them in that order and method which every prudent man does? But, above all, may I be convinced that your pleasures, what- ever they may be, will be confined within the circle of good company and people of fashion ? Those pleasures I recommend to you ; I will promote them, I will pay for them ; but I will neither pay for, nor suffer, the unbecoming, disgraceful, and degrading pleasures (they cannot be called pleasures) of low and profligate company. I confess, the pleasures of high life are not LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 327 always strictly philosophical ; and I believe a Stoic would blame my indulgence ; but I am yet no Stoic, though turned of five-and- fif'ty, and I am apt to think that you are rather less so at eighteen. The pleasures of the table among people of the first fashion may indeed sometimes, by accident, run into excesses ; but they will never sink into a continual course of gluttony and drunkenness. The gallantry of high life, though not strictly justifiable, carries, at least, no external marks of infamy about it. Neither the heart nor the constitution is corrupted by it; neither nose nor character lost by it ; manners, possibly, improved. Play, in good company, is only play, and not gaming, not deep, and con- sequently not dangerous, nor dishonourable. It is only the inter-acts of other amusements. This, I am sure, is not talking to you like an old man, though it is talking to you like an old friend. These are not hard con- ditions to ask of you. I am certain you have sense enough to know how reasonable they are on my part, how advantageous they are on yours; but have you resolution enough to perform them ? Can you withstand the examples and the invitations of the profligate, and their infamous missionaries ? For I have known many a young fellow seduced by a mauvaise Jionte, that made him ashamed to refuse. These are resolutions which you must form, and steadily execute for yourself, whenever you lose the friendly care and assistance of your Mentor. In the mean time, make a greedy use of him; exhaust him, if you can, of all his knowledge ; and get the prophet's mantle from him, before he is taken away himself. You seem to like Rome. How do you go on there ? Are you got into the inside of that extraordinary government ? Has your Abbate Foggini discovered many of those mysteries to you ? Have you made an acquaintance with some eminent Jesuits ? I know no people in the world more instructive. You would do very well to take one or two such sort of people home with you to dinner every day; it would be only a little minestra and macaroni the more ; and a three or four hours' conversation de suite produces a thousand useful informations, which short meetings and snatches at third places do not admit of ; and many of those gentlemen are by no means unwilling to dine gratis. Whenever you meet with a man eminent in any way, feed him, 328 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and feed upon him at the same time ; it will not only improve you, but give you a reputation of knowledge, and of loving it in others. I have been lately informed of an Italian book, which I believe may be of use to you, and which, I dare say, you may get at Rome; written by one Alberti, about fourscore or a hundred years ago, a thick quarto. It is a classical description of Italy ; from whence, I am assured, that Mr. Addison, to save himself trouble, has taken most of his remarks and classical references.* I am told that it is an excellent book for a traveller in Italy. What Italian books have you read, or are you reading ? Ariosto I hope is one of them. Pray apply yourself diligently to Italian; it is so easy a language, that speaking it constantly, and reading it often, must, in six months more, make you perfectly master of it ; in which case you will never forget it ; for we only forget those things of which we know but little. But, above all things, to all that you learn, to all that you say, and to all that you do, remember to join the Graces. All is imperfect without them ; with them, everything is at least tolerable. Nothing could hurt me more than to find you un- attended by them. How cruelly should I be shocked, if, at our first meeting, you should present yourself to me without them ! Invoke then, and sacrifice to them every moment; they are always kind, where they are assiduously courted. For God's sake, aim at perfection in every thing ; Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum. Adieu. Yours, most tenderly. cxxxv. LONDON, March 19, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, I acknowledge your last letter of the 24th February, N.S. In return for your earthquake, I can tell you that we have had, * Addison's Travels in Italy have called forth a different criticism from Macaulay : " They abound with classical quotations happily intro- duced, but his quotations, with scarcely a single exception, are taken from Latin verse. . . . Even his notions of the political and military affairs of the Eomans seem to be derived from poets and poetasters." Edinburgh Review, No. clvi., p. 198. M. Essay on Life and Writings of Addison, 1843. LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 329 here, more than our share of earthquakes, for we had two very strong ones in eight-and-twenty days. They really do too much honour to our cold climate ; in your warm one, they are compen- sated by favours from the sun, which we do not enjoy. I did not think that the present Pope * was a sort of man to build seven modern little chapels at the expense of so respectable a piece of antiquity as the Colliseum. However, let his Holiness' s taste of virtu be ever so bad, pray get somebody to present you to him, before you leave Rome ; and without hesitation kiss his slipper, or whatever else the etiquette of that Court requires. I would have you see all those ceremonies ; and I presume that you are, by this time, ready enough at Italian to understand and answer il Santo Padre in that language. I hope, too, that you have acquired address, and usage enough of the world, to be presented to anybody, without embarrassment or disapprobation. If that is not yet quite perfect, as I cannot suppose it is entirely, custom will improve it daily, and habit at last complete it. I have for some time told you, that the great difficulties are pretty well conquered. You have acquired knowledge, which is the Princi- piurn et Fons ; but you have now a variety of lesser things to attend to, which collectively make one great and important object. You easily guess that I mean the Graces, the air, address, politeness, and, in short, the whole tournure and agremens of a man of fashion ; so many little things conspire to form that tournure, that though separately they seem too insignificant to mention, yet aggregately they are too material, for me (who think for you down to the very lowest things) to omit. For instance : do you use yourself to carve, eat, and drink genteelly, and with ease ? Do you take care to walk, sit, stand, and present yourself gracefully ? Are you sufficiently upon your guard against awkward attitudes, and illiberal, ill-bred, and disgusting habits ; such as scratching yourself, putting your fingers in your mouth, nose, and ears ? Tricks always acquired at schools, often too much neglected afterwards ; but, however, extremely ill-bred and nauseous. For I do not conceive that * Prospero Lambertini, who reigned from 1740 to 1758 under the title of Benedict XIV. Even Voltaire owns of Mm, that he was "aime de la Chretiente pour la douceur et la gaiete de son caractere." Siecle de Louis XV., ch. xxx vi. 330 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. any man has a right to exhibit, in company, any one excrement, more than another. Do you dress well, and think a little of the brillant in your person ? That too is necessary, because it is prevenant. Do you aim at easy, engaging, but at the same time civil or respectful manners, according to the company you are in? These, and a thousand other things, which you will observe in people of fashion, better than I can describe them, are absolutely necessary for every man ; but still more for you, than for almost any man living. The showish, the shining, the engaging parts of the character of a fine gentleman, should (considering your destination) be the principal objects of your present attention. When you return here, I am apt to think that you will find something better to do, than to run to Mr. Osborne's at Gray's Inn, to pick up scarce books. Buy good books, and read them; the best books are the commonest, and the last editions are always the best, if the editors are not blockheads ; for they may profit of the former. But take care not to understand editions and title-pages too well. It always smells of pedantry, and not always of learning. What curious books I have, they are indeed but few, shall be at your service. I have some of the old Collana, and the Macchiavel of 1550. Beware of the Bibliomanie. In the midst of either your studies or your pleasures, pray never lose view of the object of your destination ; I mean the political affairs of Europe. Follow them politically, chronologic- ally, and geographically, through the newspapers, and trace up the facts which you meet with there to their sources ; as for example : consult the treaties of Neustadt and Abo, with regard to the disputes, which you read of every day in the public papers, between Eussia and Sweden. For the affairs of Italy, which are reported to be the objects of present negotiations, recur to the Quadruple Alliance of the year 1718, and follow them down through their several variations to the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, 1748; in which (by the bye) you will find the very different tenures by which the Infant Don Philip, your namesake, holds Parma and Placentia. Consult, also, the Emperor Charles the Sixth's Act of Cession of the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, in 1736. The succession to the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily being a point, which, upon the death of the present King of Spain, is likely to occasion some disputes, do not lose the thread LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 331 of these matters; which is carried on with great ease, but, if once broken, is resumed with difficulty. Pray tell Mr. Harte that I have sent his packet to Baron Firmian, by Count Einsiedlen, who is gone from hence this day for Germany, and passes through Vienna in his way to Italy, where he is in hopes of crossing upon you somewhere or other. Adieu, my friend ! CXXXVI. LONDON, March 29, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, You are now, I suppose, at Naples, in a new scene of virtu, examining all the curiosities of Herculaneum, watching the eruptions of Mount Vesuvius, and surveying the magnificent churches and public buildings by which Naples is distinguished. You have a Court there into the bargain, which, I hope, you frequent and attend to. Polite manners, a versatility of mind, a complaisance even to enemies, and the volto sciolto, with the pensieri stretti, are only to be learned at Courts ; and must be well learned by whoever would either shine or thrive in them. Though they do not change the nature, they smooth and soften the manners of mankind. Vigilance, dexterity, and flexibility supply the place of natural force ; and it is the ablest mind, not the strongest body, that prevails there. Monsieur and Madame Fogliani will, I am sure, show you all the politeness of Courts ; for I know no better bred people than they are. Domesticate yourself there while you stay at Naples, and lay aside the English coldness and formality. You have also a letter to Comte Mahony, whose house I hope you frequent, as it is the resort of the best company. His sister, Madame Bulkeley, is now here, and had I known of your going so soon to Naples, I would have got you, ex abundanti, a letter from her to her brother. The conversation of the moderns in the evening, is full as necessary for you, as that of the ancients in the morning. You would do well, while you are at Naples, to read some very short history of that kingdom. It has had great variety of masters, and has occasioned many wars ; the general history of which will enable you to ask many proper questions, and to 382 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. receive useful informations in return. Inquire into the manner and form of that government; for constitution it has none, being an absolute one ; but the most absolute governments have certain customs and forms, which are more or less observed by their respective tyrants. In China it is the fashion for the Emperors, absolute as they are, to govern with justice and equity ; as in the other Oriental monarchies it is the custom to govern by violence and cruelty. The King of France, as absolute in fact, as any of them, is by custom only more gentle ; for I know of no constitu- tional bar to his will. England is now the only monarchy in the world that can properly be said to have a constitution ; for the people's rights and liberties are secured by laws. I cannot reckon Sweden and Poland to be monarchies, those two Kings having little more to say than the Doge of Venice. I do not presume to say anything of the constitution of the Empire to you, who are jurisperitorum Germanicorum facile princeps. When you write to me, which, by the way, you do pretty seldom, tell me rather whom you see, than what you see. In- form me of your evening transactions and acquaintances ; where, and how you pass your evenings ; what English people you meet with, and a hint of their characters ; what people of learning you have made acquaintance with j and, if you will trust me with so important an affair, what belle passion inflames you. I interest myself most in what personally concerns you most ; and this is a very critical year in your life. To talk like a virtuoso, your canvas is, I think, a good one, and Raphael Harte has drawn the outlines admirably ; nothing is now wanting but the colouring of Titian, and the graces, the morbidezza, of Guido ; but that is a great deal. You must get them soon, or you will never get them at all. Per la lingua Italiana sono sicuro ch' ella n' e adesso pro- fessore, a segno tale ch' io non ardisca dirle altra cosa in quella lingua se non. Addio. CXXXVII. LONDON, April 26, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, As your journey to Paris approaches, and as that period will, one way or another, be of infinite consequence to you, my letters will henceforwards be principally calculated for that meridian. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 333 You will be left there to your own discretion, instead of Mr. Harte's ; and you will allow me, I am sure, to distrust a little the discretion of eighteen. You will find in the Academy a number of young fellows much less discreet than yourself. These will all be your acquaintances ; but look about you first and inquire into their respective characters, before you form any connections among them ; and cceteris paribus, single out those of the most considerable rank and family. Show them a distinguishing attention; by which means you will get into their respective houses, and keep the best company. All those French young fellows are excessively etourdis ; be upon your guard against scrapes and quarrels; have no corporal pleasantries with them, nojeux de main, no coups de chambriere, which frequently bring on quarrels. Be as lively as they, if you please, but at the same time be a little wiser than they. As to letters, you will find most of them ignorant; do not reproach them with that ignorance, nor make them feel your superiority. It is not their fault they are all bred up for the army ; but, on the other hand, do not allow their ignorance and idleness to break in upon those morning hours which you may be able to allot to your serious studies. No breakfastings with them, which consume a great deal of time ; but tell them (not magisterially and sententious! y) that you will read two or three hours in the morning, and that for the rest of the day you are very much at their service. Though, by the way, I hope you will keep wiser company in the evenings. I must insist upon your never going to what is called the English coflee-house at Paris, which is the resort of all the scrub English, and also of the fugitive and attainted Scotch and Irish : party quarrels and drunken squabbles are very frequent there ; and I do not know a more degrading place in all Paris. Coffee- houses and taverns are by no means creditable at Paris. Be cautiously upon your guard against the infinite number of fine- dressed and fine-spoken chevaliers d' Industrie and aventuriers, which swarm at Paris, and keep everybody civilly at arm's length, of whose real character or rank you are not previously informed. Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur le Chevalier in a handsome laced coat, et tres bien mis, accosts you at the play, or some other public place ; he conceives at first sight an infinite 334 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. regard for you, he sees that you are a stranger of the first dis- tinction, he offers you his services, and wishes nothing more ardently than to contribute, as far as may be in his little power, to procure you les agremens de Paris. He is acquainted with some ladies of condition, qui preferent une petite societe agreable, et des petits soupers aimables d'honnetes gens, au tumulte et a la dissipation de Paris; and he will, with the greatest pleasure imaginable, have the honour of introducing you to these ladies of quality. Well, if you were to accept of this kind offer, and go with him, you would find, au troisieme, a handsome painted strumpet, in a tarnished silver or gold second-hand robe, playing a sham party at cards for livres with three or four sharpers, well- dressed enough, and dignified by the titles of Marquis, Comte, and Chevalier. The lady receives you in the most polite and gracious manner, and with all those complimens de routine which every French woman has equally. Though she loves retirement and shuns le grand tnonde, yet she confesses herself obliged to the Marquis for having procured her so inestimable, so accomplished an acquaintance as yourself; but her concern is how to amuse you, for she never suffers play at her house for above a livre ; if you can aorase yourself with that low play till supper, a la bonne heure. Accordingly you sit down to that little play, at which the good company take care that you shall win fifteen or sixteen livres, which gives them an opportunity of celebrating both your good luck and your good play. Supper comes up, and a good one it is, upon the strength of your being to pay for it. La Marquise en fait les Tionneurs au mieux, talks sentiments, mceurs, et morale ; interlarded with enjouement, and accompanied with some oblique ogles, which bid you not despair in time. After supper, pharaon, lansquenet, or quinze happen accidentally to be mentioned ; the Chevalier proposes playing at one of them for half-an-hour, the Marquise exclaims against it, and vows she will not suffer it, but is at last prevailed upon, by being assured que ce ne sera que pour des riens. Then the wished-for moment is come, the operation begins; you are cheated, at best, of all the money in your pocket, and if you stay late, very probably robbed of your watch and snuff-box; possibly murdered for greater security. This, I can assure you, is not an exaggerated, but a literal description of what happens every day to some raw LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 335 and inexperienced stranger at Paris. Remember to receive all these civil gentlemen, who take such a fancy to you at first sight, very coldly, and take care always to be previously engaged, what- ever party they propose to you. You may happen sometimes, in very great and good com- panies, to meet with some dexterous gentlemen, who may be very desirous, and also very sure, to win your money if they can but engage you to play with them. Therefore, lay it down as an invariable rule never to play with men, but only with women of fashion, at low play, or with women and men mixed. But at the same time, whenever you are asked to play deeper than yon would, do not refuse it gravely and sententiously, alleging the folly of staking what would be very inconvenient for one to lose, against what one does not want to win ; but parry those invita- tions ludicrously, et en badinant. Say that if you were sure to lose you might possibly play, but that as you may as well win, you dread I'embarras des richesses ever since you have seen what an incumbrance they were to poor Harlequin, and that therefore you are determined never to venture the winning above two Louis a-day : this sort of light trifling way of declining invita- tions to vice and folly, is more becoming your age, and at the same time more effectual than grave philosophical refusals. A young fellow who seems to have no will of his own, and who does everything that is asked of him, is called a very good-natured, but at the same time is thought a very silly, young fellow. Act wisely, upon solid principles and from true motives, but keep them to yourself, and never talk sententiously. When you are invited to drink, say you wish you could, but that so little makes you both drunk and sick, que le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. Pray show great attention, and make your court to Monsieur de la Gueriniere ; * he is well with Prince Charles,f and many people of the first distinction at Paris ; his commendations will raise your character there, not to mention that his favour will be * Francois Robichon de la Gueriniere. M. Weiss calls him, " 1'un des homines les plus habiles que la France ait produits dans 1'art de soigner et de dresser les chevaux." He published two works on that subject : L'Ecole de Gavalerie, Paris, 1733, and Les Elements de Cavalerie, Paris, 1740. M. f Perhaps Prince Charles of Lorraine, brother-in-law of Maria Theresa. M. 336 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. of use to you in the Academy itself. For the reasons which I mentioned to you in my last, I would have you be interne in the Academy for the first six months ; but after that, I promise you that you shall have lodgings of your own dans un hotel garni, if in the mean time I hear well of you, and that you frequent, and are esteemed in, the best French companies. You want nothing now, thank God, but exterior advantages, that last polish, that tournure du monde, and those Graces which are so necessary to adorn and give efficacy to the most solid merit. They are only to be acquired in the best companies, and better in the best French companies than in any other. You will not want oppor- tunities, for I shall send you letters that will establish you in the most distinguished companies, not only of the beau monde, but of the beaux espirits too. Dedicate, therefore, I beg of you, that whole year to your own advantage and final improvement, and do not be diverted from those objects by idle dissipations, low seduction, or bad example. After that year, do whatever you please ; I will interfere no longer in your conduct. For I am sure both you and I shall be safe then. Adieu. CXXXVIII. LONDON, April 30, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FEIEND, Mr. Harte, who in all his letters gives you some dash of panegyric, told me in his last a thing that pleases me extremely ; which was, that at Borne you had constantly preferred the established Italian assemblies, to the English conventicles set up against them by dissenting English ladies. That shows sense, and that you know what you are sent abroad for. It is of much more consequence to know the Mores multorum hominum than the Urbes. Pray continue this judicious conduct wherever you go, especially at Paris, where, instead of thirty, you will find above three hundred English herding together, and conversing with no one French body. The life of les Milords Anglois is regrularlv. or if you will, irregularly, this. As soon as they rise, which is very late, they breakfast together, to the utter loss of two good morning hours. Then they go by coachfuls to the Palais, the Invalides, and Notre-Dame; from thence to the English coffee-house, where LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. '6'67 they make up their tavern party for dinner. From dinner, where they drink quick, they adjourn in clusters to the play, where they crowd up the stage, drest up in very fine clothes, very ill made by a Scotch or Irish tailor. From the play to the tavern again, where they get very drunk, and where they either quarrel among themselves, or sally forth, commit some riot in the streets, and are taken up by the watch. Those who do not speak French before they go, are sure to learn none there. Their tender vows are addressed to their Irish laundress, unless by chance some itinerant English- woman, eloped from her husband, or her creditors, defrauds her of them. Thus, they return home, more petulant, but not more informed, than when they left it; and show, as they think, their improvement, by affectedly both speaking and dressing in broken French. Hunc tu Romane caveto. Connect yourself, while you are in France, entirely with the French ; improve yourself with the old, divert yourself with the young ; conform cheerfully to their customs, even to their little follies, but not to their vices. Do not however remonstrate or preach against them, for remonstrances do not suit with your age. In French companies in general, you will not find much learning, therefore take care not to brandish yours in their faces. People hate those who make them feel their own inferiority. Conceal all your learning carefully, and reserve it for the com- pany of les Gens d'Eglise, or les Gens de Robe ; and even then let them rather extort it from you than find you over-willing to draw it. You are then thought, from that seeming unwilling- ness, to have still more knowledge than it may be you really have, and with the additional merit of modesty into the bargain. A man who talks of, or even hints at, his bonnes fortunes, is seldom believed, or if believed, much blamed ; whereas a man who conceals with care is often supposed to have more than he has, and his reputation of discretion gets him others. It is just so with a man of learning ; if he affects to show it, it is ques- tioned, and he is reckoned only superficial ; but if afterwards it appears that he really has it, he is pronounced a pedant. Real merit of any kind, ubi est non potest diu celari; it will be dis- covered, and nothing can depreciate it, but a man's exhibiting VOL. i. z 338 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. it himself. It may not always be rewarded as it ought ; but it will always be known. You will in general find the women of the beau monde at Paris more instructed than the men, who are bred up singly for the army, and thrown into it at twelve or thirteen years old ; but then that sort of education, which makes them ignorant of books, gives them a great knowledge of the world, an easy address, and polite manners. Fashion is more tyrannical at Paris than in any other place in the world ; it governs even more absolutely than their King, which is saying a great deal. The least revolt against it is published by proscription. You must observe, and conform to all the minuties of it, if you will be in fashion there yourself; and if you are not in fashion, you are nobody. Get therefore, at all events, into the company of those men and women qui donnent le ton ; and though at first you should be admitted upon that shining theatre only as a persona muta, persist, persevere, and you will soon have a part given you. Take great care never to tell in one company what you see or hear in another, much less to divert the present company at the expense of the last ; but let discretion and secrecy be known parts of your character. They will carry you much farther, and much safer, than more shining talents. Be upon your guard against quarrels at Paris ; , honour is extremely nice there, though the asserting of it is exceedingly penal. Therefore point de mauvaises plaisanteries, point de jeux de main, et point de raill&rie piquante. Paris is the place in the world where, if you please, you may the best unite the utile and the dulce. Even your pleasures will be your improvements, if you take them with the people of" the place, and in high life. From what you have hitherto done everywhere else, I have just reason to believe, that you will do everything you ought at Paris. Remember that it is your decisive moment; whatever you do there will be known to thousands here, and your character there, whatever it is, will /oret before you hither. You will meet with it at London. May .you and I Doth have reason to rejoice at that meeting ! Adieu. LORD CHESTEKFIELD'S LETTERS. 339 CXXXIX. LONDON, May 8, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, At your age the love of pleasures is extremely natural, and the enjoyment of them not unbecoming? ; but the danger, at your age, is mistaking the object, and setting out wrong in the pursuit. The character of a man oi pleasure dazzles young eyes; they do not see their way to it distinctly, and fall into vice and profligacy. I remember a strong instance of this a great many years ago. A young fellow, determined to shine as a man of pleasure, was at the play, called the Libertine Destroyed, a translation of le Festin de Pierre of Moliere's. He was so struck with what he thought the fine character of the Libertine, that he swore he would be the Libertine Destroyed. Some friends asked him, whether he had not better content himself with being only the Libertine, without being destroyed ? to which he answered with great warmth, " No, for that being destroyed was the perfection of the whole." This, extravagant as it seems in this light, is really the case of many an unfortunate young fellow, who, captivated by the name of pleasures, rushes indis- criminately, and without taste, into them all, and is finally de- stroyed. I am' not stoically advising, nor parsonieally preaching to you, to be a Stoic at your age ; far from it ; I am pointing out to you the paths to pleasures, and am endeavouring only to quicken and heighten them for you. Enjoy pleasures, but let them be your own, and then you will taste them : but adopt none ; trust to nature for genuine ones. The pleasures that you would feel, you must earn ; the man who gives himself up to all, feels none sensibly. Sardanapalus, I am convinced, never in his life felt any. Those only who join serious occupations with pleasures, feel either as they should do. Alcibiades, though, addicted to the most shameful excesses, gave some time to philosophy and some to business. Julius Caesar joined business with pleasure so properly, that they mutually assisted each other ; and, though he was the husband of all the wive? at Rome, he found time to be one of the best scholars, almost the best orator, and absolutely the best general there. An uninterrupted life of pleasures is as insipid as contemptible. 340 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Some hours given every day to serious business, must whet both the mind and the senses, to enjoy those of pleasure. A surfeited glutton, an emaciated sot, and an enervated rake never enjoy the pleasures to which they devote themselves ', they are only so many human sacrifices to false gods. The pleasures of low life are all of this mistaken, merely sensual, and disgraceful nature ; whereas those of high life, and in good company (though possibly in themselves not more moral), are more delicate, more refined, less dangerous, and less disgraceful ; and, in the com- mon course of things, not reckoned disgraceful at all. In short, pleasure must not, nay, cannot, be the business of a man of sense and character ; but it may be, and is, his relief, his reward. It is particularly so with regard to the women, who have the utmost contempt for those men, that, having no character nor consideration with their own sex, frivolously pass their whole time in ruelles, and at toilettes. They look upon them as their lumber, and remove them whenever they can get better furniture. Women choose their favourites more by the ear than by any other of their senses, or even their understandings. The man whom they hear the most commended by the men, will always be the best received by them. Such a conquest natters their vanity, and vanity is their universal, if not their strongest, passion. A distinguished shining character is irresistible with them ; they crowd to, nay, they even quarrel for, the danger, in hopes of the triumph. Though by the way (to use a vulgar expression), she who conquers, only catches a tartar, and be- comes the slave of her captive. Mais c'est la leur affaire. Divide your time between useful occupations and elegant pleasures. The morning seems to belong to study, business, or serious conversations with men of learning and figure ; not that I exclude an occasional hour at a toilette. From sitting down to dinner, the proper business of the day is pleasure, unless real business, which must never be postponed for pleasure, happens accidentally to interfere. In good company, the pleasures of the table are always carried to a certain point of delicacy and gratification, but never to excess and riot. Plays, operas, balls, suppers, gay conversations in polite and cheerful companies, properly conclude the evenings ; not to mention the tender looks that you may direct, and the sighs that you may offer, upon LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 341 these several occasions, to some propitious or unpropitious female deity ; whose character and manners will neither disgrace nor corrupt yours. This is the life of a man of real sense and pleasure ; and by this distribution of your time, and choice of your pleasures, you will be equally qualified for the busy, or the beau monde. You see I am not rigid, and do not require that, you and I should be of the same age. What I say to you, therefore, should have the more weight, as coming from a friend, not a father. But, low company, and their low vices, their indecent riots, and profligacy, I never will bear, nor forgive. I have lately received two volumes of Treatises, in German and Latin, from Hawkins, with your orders, under your own hand, to take care of them for you, which orders I shall most dutifully and punctually obey ; and they wait for you in my library, together with your great collection of rare books, which your Mamma sent me upon removing from her old house. I hope you not only keep up, but improve in your German, for it will be of great use to you when you come into business, and the more so, as you will be almost the only Englishman who either can speak or understand it. Pray speak it constantly to all Germans, wherever you meet them, and you will meet multi- tudes of them at Paris. Is Italian now become easy and familiar to you ? Can you speak it with the same fluency that you can speak German ? You cannot conceive what an advantage it will give you, in negotiations, to possess Italian, German, and French, perfectly, so as to understand all the force and finesse of those three languages. If two men of equal talents negotiate together, he who best understands the language in which the negotiation is carried on, will infallibly get the better of the other. The signification and force of one single word is often of great con- sequence in a treaty, and even in a letter. Remember the Graces, for without them ogni fatica e vana. Adieu. CXL. LONDON, May 17, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, Your apprenticeship is near out, and you are soon to set up for yourself; that approaching moment is a critical one for you, 342 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and an anxious one for me. A tradesman who would succeed in his way must begin by establishing a character of integrity and good manners ; without the former, nobody will go to his shop at all ; without the latter, nobody will go there twice. This rule does not exclude the fair arts of trade. He may sell his goods at the best price he can within certain bounds. He may avail himself of the humour, the whims, and the fantastical tastes of his customers ; but what he warrants to be good must be really so, what he seriously asserts must be true, or his first fraudulent profits will soon end in a bankruptcy. It is the same in higher life, and in the great business of the world. A man who does not solidly establish and really deserve a character of truth, probity, good manners, and good morals, at his first setting out in the world, may impose and shine like a meteor for a very short time, but will very soon vanish, and be ex- tinguished with contempt. People easily pardon, in young men, the common irregularities of the senses; but they do not forgive the least vice of the heart. The heart never grows better by age; I fear rather worse, always harder.* A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older. But should a bad young heart, accompanied with a good head (which, by the way, very seldom is the case), really reform in a more advanced age from a consciousness of its folly, as well as of its guilt, such a conversion would only be thought prudential and political, but never sincere. I hope in God, and I verily believe, that you want no moral virtue. But the possession of all the moral virtues, in actu primo, as the logicians call it, is not sufficient ; you must have them in actu secundo too ; nay, that is not sufficient neither ; you must have the reputation of them also. Tour character in the world must be built upon that solid foundation, or it will soon fall, and upon your own head. You cannot, therefore, be too careful, too nice, too scrupulous, in establishing this character at first, upon which your whole de- pends. Let no conversation, no example, no fashion, no bon mot, no silly desire of seeming to be above, what most knaves * " I believe men may be generally observed to grow less tender as they advance in age." The Rambler, No. 78. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 343 and many fools call prejudices, ever tempt you to avow, excuse, extenuate, or laugh at the least breach of morality ; but show upon all occasions, and take all occasions to show, a detestation and abhorrence of it. There, though young, you ought to be strict ; aud there only, while young, it becomes you to be strict and severe. But there too, spare the persons while you lash the crimes. All this relates, as you easily judge, to the vices of the heart, such as lying, fraud, envy, malice, detraction, etc. j and I do not extend it to the little frailties of youth, flowing from high spirits and warm blood. It would ill become you, at your age, to declaim against them, and sententiously censure a gallantry, an accidental excess of the table, a frolic, an inad- vertency ; no, keep as free from them yourself as you can, but say nothing against them in others. They certainly mend by time, often by reason; and a man's worldly character is not affected by them, provided it be pure in all other respects. To come now to a point of much less, but yet of very great consequence, at your first setting out. Be extremely upon your guard against vanity, the common failing of inexperienced youth; but particularly against that kind of vanity that dubs a man a coxcomb ; a character which, once acquired, is more indelible than that of the priesthood. It is not to be imagined by how many different ways vanity defeats its own purposes. One man decides peremptorily upon every subject, betrays his ignorance upon many, and shows a disgusting presumption upon the rest. Another desires to appear successful among the women ; he hints at the encouragement he has received from those of the most distinguished rank and beauty, and intimates a particular con- nection with some one ; if it is true, it is ungenerous ; if false, it is infamous ; but in either case he destroys the reputation he wants to get. Some flatter their vanity by little extraneous objects which have not the least relation to themselves ; such as being descended from, related to, or acquainted with, people of distinguished merit, and eminent characters. They talk per- petually of their grandfather such-a-one, their uncle such-a-one, and their intimate friend Mr. such-a-one, with whom, possibly, they are hardly acquainted. But admitting it all to be as they would have it, what then ? Have they the more merit for these accidents ? Certainly not. On the contrary, their taking up 344 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. adventitious, proves their want of intrinsic merit; a rich man never borrows. Take this rule for granted, as a never- failing one ; that you must never seem to affect the character in which you have a mind to shine. Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for praise. The affectation of courage will make even a brave man pass only for a bully ; as the affectation of wit will make a man of parts pass for a coxcomb. By this modesty I do not mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. On the con- trary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value, what- ever it may be, and act upon that principle ; but take great care to let nobody discover that you do know your own value. Whatever real merit you have other people will discover ; and people always magnify their own discoveries, as they lessen those of others. For God's sake, revolve all these things seriously in your thoughts before you launch out alone into the ocean of Paris. Recollect the observations that you have yourself made upon mankind, compare and connect them with my instructions, and then act systematically and consequentially from them ; not au jour lajournee. Lay your little plan now, which you will here- after extend and improve by your own observations, and by the advice of those who can never mean to mislead you; I mean Mr. Hai-te and myself. CXLI. LONDON, May 24, O.S. 1750. MY DEAE FRIEND, 1 received yesterday your letter of the 7th, N.S., from Naples, to which place I find you have travelled classically, critically, and da virtuoso. You did right, for whatever is worth seeing at all, is worth seeing well, and better than most people see it. It is a poor and frivolous excuse, when anything curious is talked of that one has seen, to say, I saw it, but really I did not much mind it. Why did they go to see it, if they would not mind it ? or why would they not mind it when they saw it ? Now you are at Naples, you pass part of your time there, en honnete homme, da garbato cavaliere, in the Court, and the best companies. I am told that strangers are received with the LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 345 utmost hospitality at Prince que lui il fait bonne chere, et que Madame la Princesse donne chere entiere ; mais que sa chair est plus que hazardee ou mortifiee meme ; which in plain English means, that she is not only tender, but rotten. If this be true, as I am pretty sure it is, one may say to her in a literal sense, juvenumque prodis, publica cura. Mr. Harte informs me that you are clothed in sumptuous apparel ; a young fellow should be so, especially abroad, where fine clothes are so generally the fashion. Next to their being fine, they should be well made, and worn easily ; for a man is only the less genteel for a fine coat, if in wearing it he shows a regard for it, and is not as easy in it as if it were a plain one. I thank you for your drawing, which I am impatient to see, and which I shall hang up in a new gallery that I am building at Blackheath, and very fond of; but I am still more impatient for another copy, which I wonder I have not yet received I mean the copy of your countenance. I believe, were that a whole length, it would still fall a good deal short of the dimen- sions of the drawing after Dominichino, which you say is about eight feet high ; and I take you, as well as myself, to be of the family of the Piccolomini. Mr. Bathurst tells me that he thinks you rather taller than I am ; if so, you may very possibly get up to five feet eight inches, which I would compound for, though I would wish you five feet ten. In truth, what do I not wish you that has a tendency to perfection ? I say a tendency only, for absolute perfection is not in human nature, so that it would be idle to wish it ; but I am very willing to compound for your comiug nearer to perfection than the generality of your cotem- poraries ; without a compliment to you, I think you bid lair for that. Mr. Harte affirms (and, if it were consistent with his character, would I believe swear) that you have no vices of the heart ; you have undoubtedly a stock both of ancient and modern learning, which, I will venture to say, nobody of your age has, and which must now daily increase, do what you will. What then do you want towards that practical degree of perfection which I wish you ? Nothing but the knowledge, the turn, and the manners of the world ; I mean the beau monde. These it is impossible that you can yet have quite right ; they are not given, they must 346 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. be learned. But then, on the other hand, it is impossible not to acquire them, if one has a rnind to them ; for they are acquired insensibly, by keeping good company, if one has but the least attention to their characters and manners. Every man becomes, to a certain degree, what the people he generally con- verses with are. He catches their air, their manners, and even their way of thinking. If he observes with attention he will catch them soon, but if he does not, he will at long run contract them insensibly. 1 know nothing in the world but poetry that is not to be acquired by application and care. The sum total of this is a very comfortable one for you, as it plainly amounts to this, in your favour that you now want nothing but what even your pleasures, if they are liberal ones, will teach, you. I congratulate both you and myself, upon your being in such a situation, that, excepting your exercises, nothing is now wanc- ing but pleasures to complete you. Take them, but (as I am sure you will) with people of the first fashion, wherever you are, and the business is done ; your exercises at Paris, which I am sure you will attend to, will supple and fashion your body ; and the company you will keep there will, with some degree of obser- vation on your part, soon give you their air, address, manners in short, le ion de la bonne compagnie. Let not those considera- tions, however, make you vain they are only between you aud me; but as they are very comfortable ones, they may justly give you a manly assurance, a firmness, a steadiness, without which a man can neither be well bred, or in any light appear to advantage, or really what he is. They may justly remove all timidity, awk- ward bashfulness, low diffidence of one's self, and mean abject complaisance to every or any body's opinion. La Bruyere says, very truly, on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce que Von vent valoir : * it is a right principle to proceed upon in the world, taking care only to guard against the appearances and outward symptoms of vanity. Your whole [sic] then, you see, turns upon the company you keep for the future. I have laid you in variety of the best at Paris, where, at your arrival, you will find a cargo of letters, to very different sorts of people, as beaux esprits, sqavants, et belles dames. These, if you will frequent them, will form you, not only by their examples, but by their advice aud admonitions * See Letter of 'April 5, 1754. LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 347 in private, as I have desired them to do ; and consequently add to what you have, the only one thing now needful. Pray tell me what Italian books you have read, and whether that language is now become familiar to you. Read Ariosto and Tasso through, and then you will have read all the Italian poets, who, in my opinion, are worth reading. In all events, when you get to Paris, take a good Italian master to read Italian with you three times a week ; not only to keep what you have already, which you would otherwise forget, but also to perfect you in the rest. It is a great pleasure, as well as a great advantage to be able to speak to people of all nations, and well in their own language. Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable ; however, they who aim at it, and per- severe, will come much nearer it, than those whose laziness and despondency makes them give it up as unattainable. Magnis tamen excidit ausis * is a degree of praise which will always attend a noble and shining temerity, and a much better sign in a young fellow, than serpere Jiumi, tutus nimium timidusque pro- cellce.^ For men, as well as women, Born to be controlled Stoop to the forward and the bold. J A man who sets out in the world with real timidity and diffi- dence, has not an equal chance in it; he will be discouraged, put by, or trampled upon. But, to succeed, a man, especially a young one, should have inward firmness, steadiness, and in- trepidity ; with exterior modesty and seeming diffidence. He must modestly, but resolutely, assert his own rights and privi- leges. Suaviter in modo, but fortiter in re. He should have an apparent frankness, and openness, but with inward caution and closeness. All these things will come to you by frequenting and observing good company. And by good company, I mean thao sort of company, which is called good company by everybody of that place. When all this is over, we shall meet ; and then we will talk over, tete a fete, the various little finishing strokes, * Ovid, Metamorphose*, ii. 328. Quoted again, Letter of September 17, 1757. t Horace, Ars Poetica, i. 28. j From Waller's lines " On Love." See Letter of Oct. 19, 1748. He quotes them again in Letter of Nov. 1, 1750. 348 LORD CHESTEBFIELD'S LETTEES. which conversation and acquaintance occasionally suggest, and which cannot be methodically written. Tell Mr. Harte that I have received his two letters of the 2nd and 8th, N.S., which, as soon as I have received a third, I will answer. Adieu, my dear ! I find you will do. CXLII. LONDON, June 5, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FBIEND, I have received your picture, which I have long waited for with impatience ; I wanted to see your countenance, from whence I am very apt, as I believe most people are, to form some general opinion of the mind. If the painter has taken you, as well as he has done Mr. Harte, (for his picture is by far the most like I ever saw in my life,) I draw good conclusions from your counte- nance, which has both spirit and finesse in it. In bulk you are pretty well increased since I saw you ; if your height is not increased in proportion, I desire that you will make haste to complete it. Seriously, I believe that your exercises at Paris will make you shoot up to a good size ; your legs, by all accounts, seem to promise it. Dancing excepted, the wholesome pare is the best part of those academical exercises. Us degraissent leur homme. A propos of exercises ; I have prepared everything for your reception at Monsieur de la Gueriniere's, and your room, otc. will be ready at your arrival. I am sure you must be sensible how much better it will be for you to be interne in the Academy, for the first six or seven months at least, than to be en hotel garni, at some distance from it, and obliged to go to it every morning, let the weather be what it will, not to mention the loss of time too; besides, by living and boarding in the Academy, you will make an acquaintance with half the young fellows of fashion at Paris ; and in a very little while be looked upon as one of them in all French companies ; and advantage that has never yet happened to any one Englishman that I have known. I am sure you do not suppose that the difference of the expense, which is but a trifle, has any weight with me in this resolution. You have the French language so perfectly, and you will acquire the French tournure so soon, that I do not know LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 349 anybody likely to pass his time so well at Paris as yourself. Our young countrymen have generally too little French, and too bad address, either to present themselves, or be well received in the best French companies; and, as a proof of it, there is no one instance of an Englishman's having ever been suspected of a gallantry with a French woman of condition, though every French woman of condition is more than suspected of having a gallantry. But they take up with the disgraceful and dangerous commerce of prostitutes, actresses, dancing- women, and that sort of trash ; though, if they had common address, better achieve- ments would be extremely easy. Un arrangement, which is in plain English a gallantry, is, at Paris, as necessary a part of a woman of fashion's establishment, as her house, table, coach, etc. A young fellow must therefore be a very awkward one to be reduced to, or of a very singular taste, to prefer drabs and danger to a commerce (in the course of the world not disgrace- ful) with a woman of health, education, and rank. Nothing sinks a young man into low company, both of women and men, so surely as timidity, and diffidence of himself. If he thinks that he shall not, he may depend upon it, he will not please. But with proper endeavours to please, and a degree of persuasion that he shall, it is almost certain that he will. How many people does one meet with everywhere, who with very moderate parts, and very little knowledge, push themselves pretty far, singly by being sanguine, enterprising and persever- ing ? They will take no denial from man or woman ; difficulties do not discourage them; repulsed twice or thrice, they rally, they charge again, and nine times in ten prevail at last. The same means will much sooner, and more certainly, attain the same ends, with your parts and knowledge. You have a fund to be sanguine upon, and good forces to rally. In business (talents supposed) nothing is more effectual, or successful, than a good, though concealed, opinion of one's self, a firm resolution, and an unwearied perseverance. None but madmen attempt impossibilities; and whatever is possible, is one way or another to be brought about. If one method fails, try another, and suit your methods to the characters you have to do with. At the treaty of the Pyrenees, which Cardinal Mazarin, and Don Louis de Haro concluded, dans VIsle des Faisans, the latter 360 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. carried some very important points by his constant and cool perseverance. The Cardinal had all the Italian vivacity and impatience; Don Louis all the Spanish phlegm and tenacious- ness. The point which the Cardinal had most at heart was, to hinder the re- establishment of the Prince of Conde, his impla- cable enemy ; but he was in haste to conclude, and impatient to return to Court ; where absence is always dangerous. Don Louis observed this, and never failed at every conference to bring the affair of the Prince of Conde upon the tapis. The Cardinal for some time refused even to treat upon it ; Don Louis, with the same sang froid as constantly persisted, till he at last prevailed ; contrary to the intentions and the interest both of the Cardinal and of his Court.* Sense must distinguish between what is impossible, and what is only difficult ; and spirit and perseverance will get the better of the latter. Every man is to be had one way or another, and every woman almost any way. I must not omit one thing, which is previously necessary to this, and indeed to everything else ; which is attention, a flexibility of attention ; never to be wholly engrossed by any past or future object, but instantly directed to the present one, be it .what it will. An absent man can make but few observations ; and those will be disjointed and imperfect ones, as half the circumstances must necessarily escape him. He can pursue nothing steadily, because his absences make him lose his way. They are very disagreeable, and hardly to be tolerated in old age; but in youth, they cannot be forgiven. If you find that you have the least tendency to them, pray watch yourself very carefully, and you may prevent them now; but if you let them grow into a habit, you will find it very difficult to cure them hereafter ; and a worse distemper I do not know. I heard with great satisfaction the other day, from one who has been lately at Rome, that nobody was better received in the best companies than yourself. The same thing, I dare say, will happen to you at Paris ; where they are particularly kind to all * The secret despatches of Cardinal Mazarin during his conferences with Don Louis de Haro were published in two volumes at Amsterdam in 1693. Those which are numbered 12, 15, 17, 22, 24, 29, 30, 34, 35, 36, 64, 69, 74, 77, 78, 79, 82, 87, 88, 92, 93, 94, contain the progress of the negotia- tion relative to the Prince de Cond^. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 351 strangers, who will be civil to them, and show a desire of pleasing: . o * * to But they must be flattered a little, not only by words, but by a seeming preference given to their country, their manners, and their customs ; which is but a very small price to pay for a very good reception. Were I in Africa, I would pay it to a negro for his good-will. Adieu. CLXIII. LONDON, June 11, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, The President Montesquieu (whom you will be acquainted with at Paris) after having laid down, in his book de I'Esprit des Loix, the nature and principles of the three different kinds of government, viz. the democratical, the monarchical, and the despotic, treats of the education necessary for each respective form. His chapter upon the education proper for the monar- chical I thought worth transcribing, and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy which he has in his eye is France.* ****** Though our government differs considerably from the French, inasmuch as we have fixed laws, and constitutional barriers, for the security of our liberties and properties ; yet the President's observations hold pretty near as true in England, as in France. Though Monarchies may differ a good deal, Kings differ very little. Those who are absolute desire to continue so, and those who are not, endeavour to become so ; hence, the same maxims and manners almost in all Courts ; voluptuousness and profusion encouraged, the one to sink the people into indolence, the other into poverty, consequently into dependency. The Court is called the world here, as well as at Paris ; and nothing more is meant, by saying that a man knows the world, than that he knows Courts. In all Courts you must expect to meet with connections without friendship, enmities without hatred, honour without virtue, appearances saved, and realities sacrificed ; good manners, * Lord Chesterfield here transcribes the second chapter of the fourth book of the Esprit des Loix. It appears needless to reprint so long a passage from so popular and well-known a work. M. 352 LORD CHESTEKFIELD'S LETTERS. with bad morals; and all vice and virtue so disguised, that who- ever has only reasoned upon both, would know neither, when he first met them at Court. It is well that you should know the map of that country, that when you come to travel in it, you may do it with greater safety. From all this, you will of yourself draw this obvious con- clusion, That you are in truth but now going to the great and important school, the world ; to which Westminster and Leipsig were only the little preparatory schools, as Mary-le-bone, Wandsor, etc. are to them. What you have already acquired, will only place you in the second form of this new school instead of the first. But if you intend, as I suppose you do, to get into the shell, you have very different things to learn from Latin and Greek ; and which require much more sagacity and attention, than those two dead languages ; the language of pure and simple nature, the language of nature variously modified, and corrupted by passions, prejudices, and habits ; the language of simulation, and dissimulation ; very hard, but very necessary to decipher. Homer has not half so many, nor so difficult dialects, as the great book of the school you are now going to. Observe there- fore progressively and with the greatest attention, what the best scholars in the form immediately above you do, and so on, till you get into the shell yourself. Adieu. Pray tell Mr. Harte that I have received his letter of the 27th May, N.S., and that I advised him never to take the English news- writers literally, who never yet inserted any one thing quite right. I have both his patent and his Mandamus,* in both which he is Walter,-]- let the newspapers call him what they please. CXLIV. LONDON, July 9, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, I should not deserve that appellation in return from you, if I did not freely and explicitly inform you of every corrigible * As Prebendary of Windsor ; an appointment which Lord Chesterfield had at this time, not without difficulty, obtained for Mr. Harte. See the letter to Mr. Dayrolles, of April 27, 1750. M. f See note to letter of Oct. 4, 1746. LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 353 defect, which I may either hear of, suspect, or at any time dis- cover in you. Those who in the common course of the world will call themselves your friends ; or whom, according 1 to the common notions of friendship, you may possibly think such, will never tell you of your faults, still less of your weaknesses. But on the contrary, more desirous to make you their friend, than to prove themselves yours, they will flatter both, and, in truth, not be sorry for either. Interiorly, most people enjoy the inferiority of their best friends. The useful and essential part of friendship, to you, is reserved singly for Mr. Harte and myself; our relations to you stand pure, and unsuspected of all private views. In whatever we say to you, we can have no interest but yours. We can have no competition, no jealousy, no secret envy or malignity. We are therefore authorised to represent, advise, and remon- strate ; and your reason must tell you that you ought to attend to, and believe us. I am credibly informed, that there is still a considerable hitch or hobble in your enunciation ; and that when you speak fast, you sometimes speak unintelligibly. I have formerly and fre- quently laid my thoughts before you so fully upon this subject, that I can say nothing new upon it now. I must therefore only repeat, that your whole depends upon it. Your trade is to speak well both in public and in private. The manner of your speaking is full as important as the matter, as more people have ears to be tickled, than understandings to judge. Be your productions ever so good, they will be of no use, if you stifle and strangle them in their birth. The best compositions of Corelli,* if ill executed and played out of tune, instead of touching, as they do when well performed, would only excite the indignation of the hearers, when murdered by an unskilled performer. But to murder your own productions, and that coram populo, is a Medean cruelty, which Horace absolutely forbids. Remember of what im- portance Demosthenes, and one of the Gracchi, thought enuncia- * A celebrated composer and violin-player, who was born in 1653, and died in 1713. According to M. Fayolle, *'le caractere de Corelli etait doux, aimable, et tout-a-fait conforme au style de sa musique. Un jour qu'il jouait du violon dans une assemblee nombreuse il s'aper^ut que chacun se mettait a causer. H posa doucement son violon au milieu du salon, disant qu'il craignait d'mterrompre la conversation. Ce fut une lecon pour les auditeurs." M. VOL. I. A A 354 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. tion ; read what stress Cicero, and Quintilian lay upon it ; even the herb-women at Athens were correct judges of it. Oratory with all its graces, that of enunciation in particular, is full as necessary in our government, as it ever was in Greece or Rome. No man can make a fortune or a figure in this country, without speaking, and speaking well, in public. If you will persuade, you must first please ; and if you will please, you must tune your voice to harmony, you must articulate every syllable distinctly, your emphases and cadences must be strongly and properly marked ; and the whole together must be graceful and engaging ; if you do not speak in that manner, you had much better not speak at all. All the learning you have, or ever can have, is not worth one groat without it. It may be a comfort, and an amuse- ment to you in your closet, but can be of no use to you in the world. Let me conjure you therefore, to make this your only object, till you have absolutely conquered it, for that is in your power ; think of nothing else, read and speak for nothing else. Read aloud, though alone, and read articulately and distinctly, as if you were reading in public, and on the most important occasion. Recite pieces of eloquence, declaim scenes of tragedies to Mr. Harte, as if he were a numerous audience. If there is any particular consonant which you have a difficulty in articulating, as I think you had with the R, utter it millions and millions of times, till you have uttered it right. Never speak quick, till you have first learned to speak well. In short, lay aside every book and every thought, that does not directly tend to this great object, absolutely decisive of your future fortune and figure. The next thing necessary in your destination, is writing cor- rectly, elegantly, and in a good hand too; in which three par- ticulars, I am sorry to tell you, that you hitherto fail. Your hand- writing is a very bad one, and would make a scurvy figure in an office book of letters, or even in a lady's pocket-book. But that fault is easily cured by care, since every man who has the use of his eyes and of his right hand can write whatever hand he pleases. As to the correctness and elegancy of your writing, attention to grammar does the one, and to the best authors the other. In your letter to me of the 27th of June, N.S., you omitted the date of the place, so that I only conjectured from the contents that you were at Rome. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 355 Thus I have, with the truth and freedom of the tenderest affection, told yon all your defects, at least all that I know or have heard of. Thank God they are all very curable, they must be cured, and I am sure you will cure them. That once done, nothing remains for you to acquire, or for me to wish, but the turn, the manners, the address, and the Graces of the polite world ; which experience, observation, and good company will insensibly give you. Few people at your age have read, seen, and known so much as you have, and consequently few are so near as yourself to what I call perfection, by which I only mean, being very near as well as the best. Far, therefore, from being discouraged by what you still want, what you already have should encourage you to attempt, and convince you that by attempting you will inevitably obtain it. The difficulties which you have surmounted were much greater than any you have now to en- counter. Till very lately your way has been only through thorns and briars; the few that now remain are mixed with roses. Pleasure is now the principal remaining part of your education. It will soften and polish your manners ; it will make you pursue and at last overtake the Graces. Pleasure is necessarily reci- procal ; no one feels who does not at the same time give it. To be pleased, one must please. What pleases you in others, will in general please them in you. Paris is indisputably the seat of the Graces ; they will even court you, if you are not too coy. Frequent and observe the best companies there, and you will soon be naturalized among them ; you will soon find how par- ticularly attentive they are to the correctness and elegancy of their language, and to the graces of their enunciation ; they would even call the understanding of a man in question, who should neglect, or not know the infinite advantages arising from them. Narrer, reciter, declamer bien, are serious studies among them, and well deserve to be so everywhere. The conversations, even among the women, frequently turn upon the elegancies, and minutest delicacies of the French language. An enjouement, a gallant turn prevails in all their companies, to women, with whom they neither are, nor pretend to be, in love ; but should you (as may very possibly happen) fall really in love there, with some women of fashion and sense (for I do not suppose you capable of falling in love with a strumpet) and that your rival, 356 LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. without half your parts or knowledge, should get the better of you, merely by dint of manners, enjouement, badinage, etc., how would you regret not having sufficiently attended to those ac- complishments which you despised as superficial and trifling, but which you would then find of real consequence in the course of the world ! And men, as well as women, are taken by these external graces. Shut up your books then now as a business, and open them only as a pleasure ; but let the great book of the world be your serious study ; read it over and over, get it by heart, adopt its style, and make it your own. When I cast up your account as it now stands, I rejoice to see the balance so much in your favour; and that the items per contra are so few, and of such a nature that they may be very easily cancelled. By way of debtor and creditor, it stands thus : Creditor. By French. Debtor. To English. German. Enunciation. Italian. Manners. Latin. Greek. Logic. Ethics. History. l Naturae. Jus- \ Gentium. I Publicum. This, my dear friend, is a very true account, and a very en- couraging one for you. A man who owes so little, can clear it off in avery little time, and if he is a prudent man will ; whereas a man, who by long negligence owes a great deal, despairs of ever being able to pay ; and therefore never looks into his accounts at all. When you go to Genoa, pray observe carefully all the environs of it, and view them with somebody who can tell you all the situations and operations of the Austrian army, during that famous siege, if it deserves to be called one ; * for in reality the town never was besieged, nor had the Austrians any one thing necessary for a siege. If Marquis Ceuturioni, who was last * In 1747. It was, as Lord Chesterfield truly intimates, less a siege than a blockade. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 357 winter in England, should happen to be there, go to him with my compliments, and he will show you all imaginable civilities. I could have sent you some letters to Florence, but that I knew Mr. Mann * would be of more use to you than all of them. Pray make him my compliments. Cultivate your Italian, while you are at Florence, where it is spoken in its utmost purity, but ill- pronounced. Pray save me the seed of some of the best melons you eat, and put it up dry in paper. You need not send it me; but Mr. Harte will bring it in his pocket when he comes over. I should likewise be glad of some cuttings of the best figs, es- pecially il Fico gentile, and the Maltese ; but as this is not the season for them, Mr. Mann will, I dare say, undertake that com- mission, and send them to me at the proper time by Leghorn. Adieu. Endeavour to please others, and divert yourself as much as ever you can, en Jionnete et galant homme. P.S. I send you the enclosed to deliver to Lord Rochford,f apon your arrival at Turin. CXLV. LONDON, August 6, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, Since your letter from Sienna, which gave me a very imperfect account both of your illness and your recovery, I have not re- ceived one word either from you or Mr. Harte. I impute this to the carelessness of the post singly ; and the great distance between us, at present, exposes our letters to those accidents. But when you come to Paris, from whence the letters arrive here yery regularly, I shall insist upon your writing to me constantly once a week ; and that upon the same day, for instance, every Thursday, that I may know by what mail to expect your letter. * Sir Horace Mann. From 1740 till his death in 1786 he was British Envoy at Florence, and nearly as long, the correspondent of Walpole. The poet Gray and Horace Walpole were on a visit with him in 1739-40, and Gray sent him a parcel of books, of which he gives a list in a letter enclosed in one to John Chute, July, 1742. f William Henry, fourth Earl of Rochford, had been sent in 1749 as Envoy Extraordinary to the King of Sardinia. In 1766, he was appointed Ambassador at Paris, and in 1768 Secretary of State. He died in 1781. 358 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. I shall also require you to be more minute iu your account of yourself than you have hitherto been, or than I have required ; because of the informations which I have received from time to time from Mr. Harte. At Paris you will be out of your time, and must set up for yourself; it is then that I shall be very solicitous to know how you carry on your business. While Mr. Harte was your partner, the care was his share, and the profir yours. But at Paris, if you will have the latter, you must take the former along with it. It will be quite a new world to you, very different from the little world that you have hitherto seen ; and you will have much more to do in it. You must keep your little accounts constantly every morning, if you would not have them run into confusion, and swell to a bulk that would frighten you from ever looking into them at all. You must allow some time for learning what you do not know, and some for keeping what you do know ; and you must leave a great deal of time for your pleasures, which (I repeat it again) are now become the most necessary part of your education. It is by conversations, dinners, suppers, entertainments, etc., in the best companies, that you must be formed for the world. Les manieres, les agre- mens, les graces, cannot be learned by theory ; they are only to be got by use among those who have them ; and they are now the main object of your life, as they are the necessary steps to your fortune. A man of the best parts, and the greatest learn- ing, if he does not know the world by his own experience and observation, will be very absurd, and consequently very un- welcome in company. He may say very good things ; but they will probably be so ill-timed, misplaced, or improperly addressed, that he had much better hold his tongue. Full of his own matter, and uninformed of, or inattentive to, the particular cir- cumstances and situations of the company, he vents it indiscrim- inately; he puts some people out of countenance, he shocks others, and frightens all, who dread what may come out next. The most general rule that I can give you for the world, and which your experience will convince you of the truth of, is, Never to give the tone to the company, but to take it from them; and to labour more to put them in conceit with themselves, than to make them admire you. Those whom you can make like themselves better, will, I promise you, like you very well. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 359 A system-monger, who, without knowing any thing of the world by experience, has formed a system of it in his dusty cell, lays it down, for example, that (from the general nature of man- kind) flattery is pleasing. He will therefore flatter ; but how ? Why, indiscriminately. And instead of repairing and heighten- ing the piece judiciously, with soft colours, and a delicate pencil ; with a coarse brush, and a great deal of whitewash, he daubs and besmears the piece he means to adorn. His flattery offends even his patron, and is almost too gross for his mistress. A man of the world knows the force of flattery as well as he does; but then he knows how, when, and where to give it ; he proportions his dose to the constitution of the patient. He flatters by appli- cation, by inference, by comparison, by hint, and seldom directly. In the course of the world there is the same difference, in every thing, between system and practice. I long to have you in Paris, which is to be your great school j you will be then in a manner within reach of me. Tell me, are you perfectly recovered, or do you still find any remaining complaint upon your lungs ? Your diet should be cooling, and at the same time nourishing. Milks of all kinds are proper for you ; wines of all kinds bad. A great deal of gentle, and no violent, exercise, is good for you. Adieu ! Gratia, Fama, Valetudo contingent abunde. CXLVI. LONDON, October 22, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, This letter will, I am persuaded, find you, and I hope safely, arrived at Monfcpellier ; from whence I trust that Mr. Harte's indisposition will, by being totally removed, allow you to get to Paris before Christmas. You will there find two people, who, though both English, I recommend in the strongest manner possible to your attention, and advise you to form the most intimate connections with them both, in their different ways. The one is a man whom you already know something of, but not near enough ; it is the Earl of Huntingdon ; * who, next to you, * Francis Hastings succeeded as tenth Earl of Huntingdon in 1746, and died unmarried in 1789. Lord Chesterfield's will contains the following injunctions with regard to him : " I desire that my Noble Friend, Francis 360 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. is the truest object of my affection and esteem, and who (I am proud to say it) calls me and considers me as his adopted father. His parts are as quick as his knowledge is extensive; and if quality were worth putting into account, where every other item is so much more valuable, his is the first almost in this country : the figure he will make soon after he returns to it will, if I am not more mistaken than ever I was in my life, equal his birth and my hopes. Such a connection will be of infinite advantage to you; and I can assure you that he is extremely disposed to form it upon my account; and will, I hope and believe, desire to im- prove and cement it upon your own. In oar Parliamentary government, connections are absolutely necessary ; and, if prudently formed, and ably maintained, the success of them is infallible. There are two sorts of connections, which I would always advise you to have in view. The first I will c 11 equal ones ; by which I mean those where the two con- necting parties reciprocally find their account, from pretty near an equal degree of parts and abilities. In those, there must be a freer communication ; each must see that the other is able, and be convinced that he is willing to be of use to him. Honour must be the principle of such connections ; and there must be a mutual dependance, that present and separate interest shall not be able to break them. There must be a joint system of action ; and in case of different opinions, each must recede a little, in order at last to form an unanimous one. Such, I hope, will be your connection with Lord Huntingdon. You will both come into Parliament at the same time ; and if you have an equal share of abilities and application, you and he, with other young people, whom you will naturally associate, may form a band which will be respected by any administration, and make a figure in the public. The other sort of connections I call unequal ones; that is, where the parts are all on one side, and the rank and fortune on the other. Here, the advantage is all on one side ; but that advantage must be ably and artfully concealed. Com- Earl of Huntingdon, and Sir Charles Hotham" (who had in 1771 succeeded Sir Beaumont in the baronetcy) "shall have absolute direction of the education of my godson Philip Stanhope, until he shall attain the age of twenty-one years ; as I know no persons more capable of giving him the sentiments and manners of a gentleman." M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 361 plaisance, an engaging manner, and a patient toleration of certain airs of superiority, must cement them. The weaker party must be taken by the heart, his head giving no hold ; and he must be governed by being made to believe that he governs. These people, skilfully led, give great weight to their leader. I have formerly pointed out to you a couple that I take to be proper objects for your skill ; and you will meet with many more, for they are very rife. The other person, whom I recommend to you, is a woman; not as a woman, for that is not immediately my business; besides, I fear she is turned of fifty. It is Lady Hervey, * whom I directed you to call upon at Dijon ; but who, to my great joy, because to your great advantage, passes all this winter at Paris. She has been bred all her life at Courts ; of which she has acquired all the easy good-breeding, and politeness, without the frivolousness. She has all the reading that a woman should have ; and more than any woman need have ; for she understands Latin perfectly well, though she wisely conceals it. As she will look upon you as her son, I desire that you will look upon her as my delegate ; trust, consult, and apply to her without reserve. No woman ever had, more than she has, le ton de la parfaitement bonne com- pagnie, les manieres engageantes, et le je ne s$ais quoi qui plait. Desire her to reprove and correct any, and every, the least error and inaccuracy in your manners, air, address, etc. No woman in Europe can do it so well; none will do it more willingly, or in a more proper and obliging way. In such a case she will not put you out of countenance, by telling you of it in com- pany ; but either intimate it by some sign, or wait for an oppor- tunity when you are alone together. She is also in the best French company, where she will not only introduce, but puff you, if I may use so low a word. And I can assure you, that it is no little help in the beau monde, to be puffed there by a fashionable woman. I send you the enclosed billet to carry her, only as a certificate of the identity of your person, which I take it for granted she could not know again. * The celebrated Mary Lepel married, in 1720, John Lord Hervey, eldest son of the Earl of Bristol, and the Sporus of Pope. She died in 1768. A volume of her letters to the Rev. Edmund Morris, tutor to one of her sons, was published in 1821. M. 362 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS, You would be so much surprised to receive a whole letter from me, without any mention of the exterior ornaments necessary for a gentleman, as manners, elocution, air, address, graces, etc., that to comply with your expectations, I will touch upon them ; and tell you, that, when you come to England, I will show you some people whom I do not care to name, raised to the highest stations, simply by those exterior and adventitious ornaments ; whose parts would never have entitled them to the smallest office in the excise. Are they then necessary, or worth acquiring, or not ? You will see many instances of this kind at Paris, par- ticularly a glaring one, of a person raised to the highest posts and dignities in France, as well as to be absolute sovereign of the beau monde, singly by the graces of his person and address ; by woman's chit chat, accompanied with important gestures ; by an imposing air, and pleasing abord.* Nay, by these helps he even passes for a wit, though he hath certainly no uncommon share of it. I will not name him, because it would be very imprudent in you to do it. A young fellow, at his first entrance into the beau monde must not offend the king de facto there. It is very often more necessary to conceal contempt then resentment, the former being never forgiven, but the latter sometimes forgot. There is a small quarto book, entitled Histoire Ghronologiqne dt la France, lately published by Le President Henault; f a man of parts and learning, with whom you will probably get acquainted with at Paris. I desii-e that it may always lie upon your table, for your recourse as often as you read history. The chronology, though chiefly relative to the history of France, is not singly con- fined to it ; but the most interesting events of all the rest of Europe are also inserted, and many of them adorned by short, pretty, and just reflections. The new edition of les Memoires dt Sully, in three quarto volumes,^ is also extremely well worth * The Marechal de Richelieu (note in the edition of 1774.) f Le President Henault is well known by the chronology which Lord Chesterfield mentions. In 1765, Horace Walpole describes him as follows at a supper at Madame du Deffand's. " The President is very near deaf and much nearer superannuated. He sits by the table ; the mistress of the house, who formerly was his, inquires after every dish on the table, is told who has eaten of which, and then bawls the bills of fare of every indivi- dual into the President's ears." To the Hon. H. Conway, Oct. 6, 1765. M. J The (Economies lioynles as written by Sully, and as printed in 1638, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 363 your reading, as it will give you a clearer and truer notion of one of the most interesting periods of the French history, than you can yet have formed, from all the other books you may have read upon the subject. That prince, I mean Henry the Fourth, had all the accomplishments and virtues of a Hero and of a King ; and almost of a man. The last are the more rarely seen ; may you possess them all ! Adieu ! Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and let him know that I have this moment received his letter of the 12th, N.S. f from Antibes. It requires no immediate answer ; I shall there- fore delay mine till I have another from him. Give him the en- closed, which I have received from Mr. Eliot. CXLVIL LONDON, November 1, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FEIKND, I hope this letter will not find you still at Montpellier, but rather be sent after you from thence to Paris, where I am per- suaded that Mr. Harte could find as good advice for his leg as at Montpellier, if not better ; but if he is of a different opinion, I am sure you ought to stay there as long as he desires. While you are in France, I could wish that the hours you allot for historical amusement should be entirely devoted to the history of France. One always reads history to most advantage in that country to which it is relative; not only books, but persons being ever ar< hand to solve the doubts and clear up difficulties. 1 do by no means advise you to throw away your time in ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and unimportant parts of re- adopt throughout the cumbrous fiction of the second person, the Secre- taries of Sully recounting to their master, under his dictation, all that he has seen and done ! In 1745, the Abbe de 1'Ecluse undertook the revision of these Memoirs, and by judiciously restoring the first person and omitting some of the longueurs " We've not so good a word but have the thing " has made them one of the most agreeable historical works to be found in any language. The edition referred to by Lord Chesterfield is that of 1747, with London on the title page, but really printed in Paris. Since, and by reason of, that publication, says Sismondi, " la reputation de Sullj a grandi de nouveau." Hist, des Francais, vol. xxiii. p. 478. M. 364 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. mote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote. A general notion of the history of France, from the con- qnest of that country by the Franks, to the reign of Louis XL, is sufficient for use, consequently sufficient for you. There are, however, in those remote times, some remarkable eras that de- serve more particular attention ; I mean those in which some notable alterations happened in the constitution and form of government. As for example, the settlement of Clovis in Gaul, and the form of government which he then established ; for, by the way, that form of government differed in this particular from all the other Gothic governments, that the people, neither collec- tively nor by representatives, had any share in it. It was a mixture of monai-chy and aristocracy ; and what were called the States- General of France consisted only of the nobility and clergy till the time of Philip le Bel, in the very beginning of the fourteenth century ; who first called the people to those assem- blies, by no means for the good of the people, who were only amused by this pretended honour, but, in truth, to check the nobility and clergy, and induce them to grant the money he wanted for his profusion ; this was a scheme of Enguerrand de Marigny, his Minister, who governed both him and his kingdom to such a degree, as to be called the coadjutor and governor of the kingdom. Charles Martel laid aside these assemblies, and governed by open force. Pepin restored them, and attached them to him, and with them the nation ; by which means he deposed Childeric, and mounted the throne. This is a second period worth your attention. The third race of Kings, which begins with Hugues Capet, is a third period. A judicious reader of history will save himself a great deal of time and trouble, by attending with care only to those interesting periods of history which furnish remarkable events and make eras ; going slightly over the common run of events. Some people read history as others read the Pilgrim's Progress ; giving equal attention to, and indiscriminately loading their memories with every part alike. But I would have you read it in a dif- ferent manner : take the shortest general history you can find of every country, and mark down in that history the most important periods ; such as conquests, changes of Kings, and alterations of the form of government, and then have recourse to more exten- LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 365 sive histories or particular treatises relative to these great points. Consider them well, trace up their causes, and follow their con- sequences. For instance, there is a most excellent though very short history of France by Le Gendre. Read that with attention, and you will know enough of the general history ; but when you find there such remarkable periods as are above mentioned, con- sult Mezeray and other the best and minutest historians, as well as political treatises upon those subjects. In later times, Memoirs, from those of Philip de Comines down to the innumer- able ones in the reign of Louis XIV., have been of great use, and thrown great light upon particular parts of history. Conversation in France, if you have the address and dexterity to turn it upon useful subjects, will exceedingly improve your historical knowledge ; for people there, however classically igno- rant they may be, think it a shame to be ignorant of the history of their own country ; they read that if they read nothing else, and having often read nothing else, are proud of having read that, and talk of it willingly ; even the women are well instructed in that sort of reading. I am far from meaning by this that you should always be talking wisely, in company, of books, history, and matters of knowledge. There are many companies which you will and ought to keep, where such conversations would be misplaced and ill-timed ; your own good sense must distinguish the company and the time. You must trifle with triflers, and be serious only with the serious ; but dance to those who pipe. Cur in theatrum Cato severe venisti ? was justly said to an old man j how much more so would it be to one of your age ? From the moment that you are dressed and go out, pocket all your know- ledge with your watch, and never pull it out in company unless desired ; the producing of the one unasked, implies that you are weary of the company ; and the producing of the other unre- quired, will make the company weary of you. Company is a republic * too jealous of its liberties to suffer a dictator even for a quarter of an hour ; and yet in that, as in all republics, there are some few who really govern, but then it is by seeming to dis- * "One evening, in a circle of wits, Goldsmith found fault with me for talking of Johnson as entitled to the honour of unquestionable superi- ority. ' Sir,' said he, ' you are for making a monarchy of what should be a republic.' " Boswell's Life of Johnson. 366 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. claim, instead of attempting 1 to usurp the power; that is the occasion in which manners, dexterity, address, and the undefin- able je ne sqais quoi triumph ; if properly exerted their conquest is sure, and the more lasting for not being perceived. Remember that this is not only your first and greatest, but ought to be almost your only object while you are in France. I know that many of your countrymen are apt to call the freedom and vivacity of the French, petulancy and ill- breeding ; but should you think so, I desire upon many accounts that you will not say so. I admit that it may be so, in some instances of petits mattres etourdis, and in some young people unbroken to the world ; but I can assure you, that you will find it much other- wise with people of a certain rank and age, upon whose model you will do very well to form yourself. We call their steady assurance impudence. Why ? Only because what we call modesty is awkward bashfulness, and mauvaise honte. For my part, I see no impudence, but, on the contrary, infinite utility and advantage, in presenting one's self with the same coolness and unconcern, in any and every company; till one can do that, I am very sure that one can never present one's self well. What- ever is done under concern and embarrassment must be ill-done ; and, till a man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every com- pany, he will never be thought to have kept good, nor be very welcome in it. A steady assurance, with seeming modesty, is possibly the most useful qualification that a man can have in every part of life. A man would certainly not make a very con- siderable fortune and figure in the world, whose modesty and timidity should often, as bashfulness always does, put him in the deplorable and lamentable situation of the pious ^Eneas, when, obstupuit, steteruntque comce, et vox faucibus hcesit. Fortune, as well as women, born to be controlled, Stoops to the forward and the bold.* Assurance and intrepidity, under the white banner of seeming modesty, clear the way for merit, that would otherwise be dis- couraged by difficulties in its journey ; whereas barefaced impu- dence is the noisy and blustering harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper. * See letter of 24 May. LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 367 You will think that I shall never have done recommending to you these exterior worldly accomplishments, and you will think right, for I never shall ; they are of too great consequence to you for me to be indifferent or negligent about them the shining part of your future figure and fortune depends now wholly upon them. These are the acquisitions which must give efficacy and success to those you have already made. To have it said and believed that you are the most learned man in England, would be no more than was said and believed of Dr. Bentley ; but to have it said at the same time that you are also the best bred, most polite, and agreeable man in the kingdom, would be such a happy composition of a character, as I never yet knew any one man deserve, and which I will endeavour, as well as ardently wish, that you may. Absolute perfection is, I well know, unattainable ; but I know, too, that a man of parts may be unweariedly aiming at and arrive pretty near it. Try, labour, persevere. Adieu. CXLVIIL LONDON, November 8, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, Before you get to Paris, where you will soon be left to your own discretion, if you have any, it is necessary that we should understand one another thoroughly ; which is the most probable way of preventing disputes. Money, the cause of much mischief in the world, is the cause of most quarrels between fathers and sons; the former commonly thinking that they cannot give too little, and the latter that they cannot have enough ; both equally in the wrong. You must do me the justice to acknowledge, that I have hitherto neither stinted nor grudged any expense that could be of use or real pleasure to you ; and I can assure you, by the way, that you have travelled at a much more considerable expense than I did myself; but I never so much as thought of that while Mr. Harte was at the head of your finances, being very sure that the sums granted were scrupulously applied to the uses for which they were intended. But the case will soon he altered, and you will be your own receiver and treasurer. However, I promise you that we will not quarrel singly upon the quantum,, which shall be cheerfully and freely granted ; the application and 368 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. appropriation of it will be the material point, which I am now going to clear up, and finally settle with yon. I will fix, or even name, no settled allowance, though I well know in my own mind what would be the proper one ; but I will first try your drafts, by which I can in a good degree judge of your conduct. This only I tell you in general, that, if the channels through which my money is to go are the proper ones, the source shall not be scanty ; but should it deviate into dirty, muddy and obscure ones (which, by the bye, it cannot do for a week without my knowing it), I give you fair and timely notice, that the source will instantly be dry. Mr. Harte, in establishing you at Paris, will point out to you those proper channels; he will leave you there upon the foot of a man of fashion, and I will continue you upon the same. You will have your coach, your valet de chambre, your own footman, and a valet de place which, by the way, is one servant more than I had. I would have you well dressed, by which I mean, dressed as the generality of people of fashion are that is, not to be taken notice of, for being either more or less fine than other people ; it is by being well dressed, not finely dressed, that a gentleman should be distinguished. You must frequent lea spectacles, which expense I shall willingly supply. You must play, a des petits jeux de commerce, in mixed companies ; that article is trifliug ; I shall pay it cheerfully. All the other articles of pocket- money are very inconsiderable at Paris, in comparison of what they are here the silly custom of giving money wherever one dines or sups, and the expensive importunity of subscriptions, not being yet introduced there. Having thus reckoned up all the decent expenses of a gentleman, which, I will most readily defray, I come now to those which I will neither bear nor supply. The first of these is gaming, which, though I have not the least reason to suspect you of, I think it necessary eventually to assure you, that no consideration in the world shall ever make me pay your play-debts ; should you ever urge to me that your honour is oawned, I should most immoveably answer you, that it was your nonour, not mine, that was pawned, and that your creditor might even take the pawn for the debt. Low company and low pleasures are always much more costly than liberal and elegant ones. The disgraceful riots of a tavern are much more expensive, as well as dishonourable, than the LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 369 (sometimes pardonable) excesses in good company. I must abso- lutely hear of no tavern scrapes and squabbles. I come now to another and very material point ; I mean women ; and I will not address myself to you upon this subject, either in a religious, a moral, or a parental style. I will even lay aside my age, remember yours, and speak to you, as one man of pleasure, if he had parts too, would speak to another. I will, by no means, pay for them, and their never-failing consequences, surgeons ; nor will I, upon any account, keep singers, dancers, actresses, and id genus omne ; and, independently of the expense, I must tell you, that such connections would give me, and all sensible people, the utmost contempt for your parts and address : a young fellow must have as little sense as address, to venture, or more properly to sacrifice his health, and ruin his fortune, with such sort of creatures; in such a place as Paris especially, where gallantry is both the profession and the practice of every woman of fashion. . . . These distempers, as well as their cures, fall nine times in ten upon the lungs. This argument, I am sure, ought to have weight with you ; for I protest to you, that if you meet with any such accident, I would not give one year's purchase for your life. Lastly, there is another sort of expense that I will not allow, only because it is a silly one ; I mean the fooling away your money in baubles at toyshops. Have one handsome snuff-box (if you take snuff) and one handsome sword ; but then no more very pretty and very useless things. By what goes before, you will easily perceive that I mean to allow you whatever is necessary, not only for the figure, but for the pleasures of a gentleman, and not to supply the profusion of a rake. This, you must confess, does not savour of either the severity or parsimony of old age. I consider this agreement between us as a subsidiary treaty on my part for services to be performed on yours. I promise you, that I will be as punctual in the payment of subsidies as England has been during the last war ; but then I give you notice at the same time, that I require a much more scrupulous execution of the treaty on your part than we met with on that of our Allies; or else that payment will be stopped. I hope that all I have now said was absolutely unnecessary, and that sentiments more worthy and more noble VOL. I. B B 370 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. than pecuniary ones, would of themselves have pointed out to you the conduct I recommend ; but, in all events, I resolved to be once for all explicit with you, that in the worst that can happen, you may not plead ignorance, and complain that I had not sufficiently explained to you my intentions. Having mentioned the word rake, I must say a word or two more on that subject, because young people too frequently, and always fatally, are apt to mistake that character for that of a man of pleasure ; whereas, there are not in the world two charac- ters more different. A rake is a composition of all the lowest, most ignoble, degrading, and shameful vices ; they all conspire to disgrace his character and to ruin his fortune ; while wine and disease contend which shall soonest and most effectually destroy his constitution. A dissolute, flagitious footman or por- ter makes full as good a rake as a man of the first quality. By the bye, let me tell you that in the wildest part of my youth I never was a rake, but, on the contrary, always detested and de- spised the 'character. A man of pleasure, though not always so scrupulous as he should be, and as one day he will wish he had been, refines at least his pleasures by taste, accompanies them with decency, and enjoys them with dignity. Few men can be men of pleasure, every man may be a rake. Remember that I shall know every- thing you say or do at Paris, as exactly as if, by the force of magic, I could follow you everywhere, like a Sylph or a Gnome, invisible myself. Seneca says, very prettily, that one should ask nothing of God, but what one should be willing that men should know ; nor of men, but what one should be willing that God should know ; I advise you to say or do nothing at Paris, but what you would be willing that I should know. I hope, nay I believe, that will be the case. Sense, I dare say, you do not want; in- struction, I am sure, you have never wanted; experience, you are daily gaining ; all which together must inevitably (I should think) make you both respectable et aimable, the perfection of a human character. In that case nothing shall be wanting on my part, and you shall solidly experience all the extent and tenderness of my affection for you; but dread the reverse of both ! Adieu. P. S. When you get to Paris, after you have been to wait on LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 371 Lord Albemarle,* go to see Mr. Yorke,f whom I have particular reasons for desiring that you should be well with, as 1 shall here- after explain to you. Let him know that my orders, and your own inclinations, conspired to make you desire his friendship and protection. CXLIX. MY DEAR FRIEND, I have sent you so many preparatory letters for Paris, that this, which will meet you there, shall only be a summary of them all. You have hitherto had more liberty than anybody of your age ever had ; and I must do you the justice to own, that you have made a better use of it than most people of your age would have done ; but then, though you had not a jailer, you had a friend with you. At Paris, you will not only be unconfmed, but un- assisted. Your own good sense must be your only guide ; I have great confidence in it, and am convinced that I shall receive just such accounts of your conduct at Paris as I could wish ; for I tell you beforehand, that I shall be most minutely informed of all that you do, and almost of all that you say there. Enjoy the pleasures of youth, you cannot do better ; but refine and dignify them like a man of parts ; let them raise and not sink, let them adorn and not vilify, your character ; let them, in short, be the pleasures of a gentleman, and taken with your equals at least, but rather with your superiors, and those chiefly French. Inquire into the characters of the several academicians before you form a connection with any of them ; and be most upon your guard against those who make the most court to you. You cannot study much in the Academy ; but you may study usefully there, if you are an economist of your time, and bestow only upon good books those quarters and halves of hours, which occur to everybody in the course of almost every day ; and which, at the year's end, amount to a very considerable sum of time. * William Anne, second Earl of Albemarle, died in December, 1754, as Ambassador at Paris. A sketch of his character and fortunes is given by Lord Chesterfield in his letter of May 27, 1752. f Joseph, third son of Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, was at this time Secretary of Embassy at Paris, but became, in 1751, Envoy at the Hague. He was created Lord Dover in 1788, and died without issue in 1792. M. 372 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. Let Greek, without fail, share some part of every day : I do not mean the Greek poets, the catches of Anacreon, or the tender complaints of Theocritus, or even the porter-like language of Homer's heroes; of whom all smatterers in Greek know a little, quote often, and talk of always ; but I mean Plato, Aristo- teles, Demosthenes, and Thucydides, whom none but adepts know. It is Greek that must distinguish you in the learned world, Latin alone will not. And Greek must be sought to be retained, for it never occurs like Latin. When you read history, or other books of amusement, let every language you are master of have its turn ; so that you may not only retain, but improve in, every one. I also desire that you will converse in German and Italian with all the Germans and the Italians with whom you converse at all. This will be a very agreeable and flattering thing to them, and a very useful one to you. Pray apply yourself diligently to your exercises ; for though the doing them well is not supremely meritorious, the doing them ill is illiberal, vulgar, and ridiculous. I recommend theatrical representations to you, which are ex- cellent at Paris. The tragedies of Corneille and Racine, and the comedies of Moliere, well attended to, are admirable lessons, both for the heart and the head. There is not, nor ever was, any theatre comparable to the French. If the music of the French operas does not please your Italian ear, the words of them, at least, are sense and poetry, which is much more than I can say of any Italian opera that I ever read or heard in my life. I send you the enclosed letter of recommendation to Marquis Matignon, which I would have you deliver to him as soon as you can ; you will, I am sure, feel the good effects of his warm friendship for me and Lord Bolingbroke, who has also wrote to him upon your subject. By that, and by the other letters which I have sent you, you will be at once so thoroughly introduced into the best French company, that you must take some pains if you will keep bad ; but that is what I do not suspect you of. You have, I am sure, too much right ambition to prefer low and disgraceful company to that of your superiors both in rank and age. Your character, and consequently your fortune, absolutely depends upon the company you keep, and the turn you take at LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. 373 Paris. I do not, in the least, mean a grave turn; on the con- trary, a gay, a sprightly, but, at the same time, an elegant and liberal one. Keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels. They lower a character extremely, and are particularly dangerous in France, where a man is dishonoured by not resenting an affront, and utterly ruined by resenting it. The young Frenchmen are hasty, giddy, and petulant ; extremely national and avantageux. For- bear from any national jokes or reflections, which are always improper, and commonly unjust. The colder northern nations generally look upon France as a whistling, singing, dancing, frivolous nation j this notion is very far from being a true one, though many petits maitres by their behaviour seem to justify it ; but those very petits mattres, when mellowed by age and ex- perience, very often turn out very able men. The number of great generals and statesmen, as well as excellent authors, that France has produced is an undeniable proof that it is not that frivolous, unthinking, empty nation that northern prejudices suppose it. Seem to like and approve of everything at first, and I promise you that you will like and approve of many things afterwards. I expect that you will write to me constantly once every week, which I desire may be every Thursday ; and that your letters may inform me of your personal transactions ; not of what you see, but of whom you see, and what you do. Be your own monitor, now that you will have no other. As to enunciation, I must repeat it to you again and again, that there is no one thing so necessary; all other talents, without that, are absolutely useless, except in your own closet. It sounds ridiculously to bid you study with your dancing- master ; and yet I do. The bodily carriage and graces are of infinite consequence to everybody, and more particularly to you. Adieu for this time, my dear child. Yours tenderly. CL. LONDON, November 12, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, You will possibly think that this letter turns upon strange, little trifling objects ; and you will think right, if you consider 374 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. them separately ; but if you take them aggregately, you will be convinced that, as parts, which conspire to form that whole, called the exterior of a man of fashion, they are of importance. I shall not dwell now upon those personal graces, that liberal air, and that engaging address, which I have so often recommended to you ; but descend still lower to your dress, cleanliness, and care of your person. When you come to Paris, you must take care to be extremely well dressed, that is, as the fashionable people are. This does by no means consist in the finery, but in the taste, fitness, and manner of wearing your clothes; a fine suit ill-made, and slatternly or stiffly worn, far from adorning, only exposes the awkwardness of the wearer. Get the best French tailor to make your clothes, whatever they are, in the fashion, and to fit you, and then wear them ; button them or unbutton them, as the genteelest people you see do. Let your man learn of the best friseur to do your hair well, for that is a very material part of your dress. Take care to have your stockings well gartered up, and your shoes well buckled ; for nothing gives a more slovenly air to a man than ill- dressed legs. In your person you must be accurately clean ; and your teeth, hands, and nails should be superlatively so. A dirty mouth has real ill consequences to the owner, for it infallibly causes the decay, as well as the intolerable pain of the teeth ; and it is very offensive to his acquaintance, for it will most inevitably stink. I insist therefore that you wash your teeth the first thing that you do every morning, with a soft sponge and warm water, for four or five minutes, and then wash your mouth five or six times. Mouton, whom I desire you will send for upon your arrival at Paris, will give you an opiate, and a liquor to be used sometimes. Nothing looks more ordinary, vulgar, and illiberal, than dirty hands, and ugly, uneven and ragged nails. I do not suspect you of that shocking, awkward trick of biting yours ; but that is not enough ; you must keep the ends of them smooth and clean not tipped with black, as the ordinary people's always are. The ends of your nails should be small segments of circles, which, by a very little care in the cutting, they are very easily brought to ; every time that you wipe your hands, rub the skin round your nails backwards, that it may not grow up and shorten your nails LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 375 too much. The cleanliness of the rest of your person, which by the way will conduce greatly to your health, I refer from time to time to the bagnio. My mentioning these particulars arises (I freely own) from some suspicion that the hints are not unneces- sary ; for when you were a schoolboy, you were slovenly and dirty above your fellows. I must add another caution, which is, that upon no account whatever you put your fingers, as too many people are apt to do, in your nose or ears. It is the most shock- ing, nasty, vulgar rudeness that can be offered to company ; it disgusts one, it turns one's stomach ; and, for my own part, I would much rather know that a man's fingers were actually in his breech, than see them in his nose. Wash your ears well every morning, and blow your nose in your handkerchief when- ever you have occasion ; but, by the way, without looking at it afterwards. There should be in the least, as well as in the greatest parts of a gentleman, les manieres nobles. Sense will teach you some, observation others ; attend carefully to the manners, the diction, the motions, of people of the first fashion, and form your own upon them. On the other hand, observe a little those of the vulgar, in order to avoid them ; for though the things which they say or do may be the same, the manner is always totally different; and in that, and nothing else, consists the characteristic of a man of fashion. The lowest peasant speaks, moves, dresses, eats, and drinks, as much as a man of the first fashion ; but does them all quite differently ; so that by doing and saying most things in a manner opposite to that of the vulgar, you have a great chance of doing and saying them right. There are gradations in awkwardness and vulgarism, as there are in everything else. Les manieres de Robe, though not quite right, are still better than, les manieres Bourgeoises ; and these, though bad, are still better than les manieres de Campagne. But the language, the air, the dress, and the manners of the Court, are the only true standard des manieres nobles, et d'un honnete homme. Ex pede Herculem is an old and true saying, and very applicable to our present subject ; for a man of parts, who has been bred at Courts, and used to keep the best company, will distinguish himself, and is to be known from the vulgar, by every word, attitude, gesture, and even look. I cannot leave these seeming minuties, without 376 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. repeating to you the necessity of your carving well, which is an article, little as it is, that is useful twice every day of one's life ; and the doing it ill is very troublesome to one's self, and very disagreeable, often ridiculous, to others. Having said all this, I cannot help reflecting what a formal dull fellow, or a cloistered pedant, would say, if they were to see this letter ; they would look upon it with the utmost contempt, and say that surely a father might find much better topics for advice to a son. I would admit it, if I had given you, or that you were capable of receiving no better ; but if sufficient pains have been taken to form your heart and improve your mind, and, as I hope, not without success, I will tell those solid gentlemen, that all these trifling things, as they think them, collectively form that pleasing je ne sqais quoi, that ensemble, which they are utter strangers to, both in themselves and others. The word aimable is not known in their language, or the thing in their manners. Great usage of the world, great attention, and a great desire of pleasing, can alone give it ; and it is no trifle. It is from old people's looking upon these things as trifles, or not thinking of them at all, that so many young people are so awkward and so ill-bred. Their parents, often careless and unmindful of them, give them only the common run of education as school, university, and then travelling without examining, and very often without being able to judge if they did examine, what progress they make in any one of these stages. Then they carelessly comfort themselves, and say, that their sons will do like other people's sons ; and so they do, that is, commonly very ill. They correct none of the childish, nasty tricks, which they get at school ; nor the illiberal manners which they contract at the university ; nor the frivolous and superficial pertness, which is commonly all that they acquire by their travels. As they do not tell them of these things, nobody else can ; so they go on in the practice of them, without ever hearing, or knowing, that they are unbecoming, indecent, and shocking. For, as I have often formerly observed to you, nobody but a father can take the liberty to reprove a young fellow grown up, for those kind of inaccuracies and improprieties of behaviour. The most intimate friendship, unassisted by the paternal LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 377 superiority, will not authorise it. I may truly say, therefore, that you are happy in having me for a sincere, friendly, and quick-sighted monitor. Nothing will escape me; I shall pry for your defects, in order to correct them, as curiously as I shall seek for your perfections, in order to applaud and reward them ; with this difference only, that I shall publicly mention the latter, and never hint at the former, but in a letter to, or a tete-a-tete with you. I will never put you out of countenance before company, and I hope you will never give me reason to be out of counte- nance for you, as any one of the above-mentioned defects would make me. Prcetor non curat de minimis was a maxim in the Roman law, for causes only of a certain value were tried by him ; but there were inferior jurisdictions, that took cognizance of the smallest. Now I shall try you, not only as a Praetor in the greatest, but as Censor in lesser, and as the lowest magistrate in the least cases. I have this moment received Mr. Harte's letter of the 1st November, New Style ; by which I am very glad to find that he thinks of moving towards Paris, the end of this month, which looks as if his leg were better ; besides, in my opinion, you both of you only lose time at Montpellier; he would find better advice, and you better company, at Paris. In the meantime, I hope you go into the best company there is at Montpellier, and there always is some at the Intendant's or the Commandant's. You will have had full time to have learned les petites chansons Languedociennes, which are exceeding pretty ones, both words and tunes. I remember, when I was in those parts, I was sur- prised at the difference which I found between the people on one side, and those on the other side of the Rhone. The Provenceaux were, in general, surly, ill-bred, ugly, and swarthy : the Languedociens the very reverse ; a cheerful, well-bred, handsome people. Adieu ! Yours most affectionately. P.S. Upon reflection, I direct this letter to Paris ; I think you must have left Montpellier before it could arrive there. 378 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. CLI. LONDON, November 19, O.S. 1750. MY DEAR FRIEND, I was very glad to find, by your letter of the 12th, N.S., that you had informed yourself so well of the state of the French marine at Toulon, and of the commerce at Marseilles ; they are objects that deserve the inquiry and attention of every man, who intends to be concerned in public affairs. The French are now wisely attentive to both ; their commerce is incredibly increased within these last thirty years ; they have beaten us out of great part of our Levant trade ; their East- India trade has greatly affected ours ; and, in the West Indies, their Martinico establish- ment supplies, not only France itself, but in the greatest part of Europe, with sugars ; whereas our islands, as Jamaica, Barbados, and the Leeward, have now no other market for theirs but England. New France, or Canada, has also greatly lessened our fur and skin trade. It is true (as you say) that we have no treaty of commerce subsisting (I do not say with Marseilles) but with France. There was a treaty of commerce made, between England and France, immediately after the treaty of Utrecht; but the whole treaty was conditional, and to depend upon the Parliament's enacting certain things, which were stipulated in two of the articles ; the Parliament, after a very famous debate, would not do it ; so the treaty fell to the ground ; however, the outlines of that treaty are, by mutual and tacit consent, the general rules of our commerce with France. It is true too, that our commodities, which go to France, must go in our bottoms ; the French having imitated, in many respects, our famous Act of Navigation, as it is commonly called. This Act was made in the year 1652, in the Parliament held by Oliver Cromwell. It forbids all foreign ships to bring into England any merchandize or commodities whatsoever, that were not of the growth and produce of that country to which those ships belonged, under penalty of the forfeiture of such ships. This Act was particularly levelled at the Dutch ; who were, at that- time, the carriers of almost all Europe, and got immensely by freight. Upon this principle, of the advantages arising from freight, LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 379 there is a provision in the same Act, that even the growth and produce of our own colonies in America shall not be carried from thence to any other country in Europe, without first touching in England; but this clause has lately been repealed, in the instances of some perishable commodities, such as rice, etc., which are allowed to be carried directly from our American colonies to other countries. The Act also provides, that two- thirds, I think, of those who navigate the said ships shall be British subjects. There is an excellent, and little book, written by the famous Monsieur Huet,* Eveque d'Avranches, sur le Commerce des Anciens, which is very well worth your reading, and very soon read. It will give you a clear notion of the rise and progress of commerce. There are many other books which take up the history of commerce where Monsieur d'Avranches leaves it, and bring it down to these times : I advise you to read some of them with care ; commerce being a very essential part of political knowledge in every country, but more particularly in this, which owes all its riches and power to it. I come now to another part of your letter, which is the ortho- graphy, if I may call bad spelling orthography. You spell induce, enduce ; and grandeur, you spell grandwre ; two faults, of which few of my house-maids would have been guilty. I must tell you, that orthography, in the true sense of the word, is so absolutely necessary for a man of letters, or a gentleman, that one false spelling may fix a ridicule upon him for the rest of his life ; and I know a man of quality, who never recovered the ridicule of having spelled wholesome without the w. Reading with care will secure everybody from false spelling ; for books are always well spelled, according to the orthography of the times. Some words are indeed doubtful, being spelled differently by different authors of equal authority, but those are i'ew ; and in those cases every man has his option, because he may plead his authority either way ; but where there is but one right way, as in the two words above-mentioned, it is unpardon- able and ridiculous for a gentleman to miss it : even a woman of a tolerable education would despise, and laugh at a lover, who should send her an ill-spelled billet-doux. I fear, and ; uspect, that you have taken it into your head, in most cases, that the * See Letter LXXV., of 30 Aug., 1748. 380 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. Matter is all, and the Manner little or nothing. If you have, undeceive yourself, and be convinced that, in everything, the Manner is full as important as the Matter. If you speak the sense of an angel, in bad words, and with a disagreeable utter- ance, nobody will hear you twice, who can help it. If you write epistles as well as Cicero, but in a very bad hand, and very ill-spelled, whoever receives, will laugh at them; and if you had the figure of Adonis, with an awkward air and motions, it will disgust instead of pleasing. Study Manner therefore in every- thing, if yon would be anything. My principal inquiries of my friends at Paris concerning you, will be relative to your Manner of doing whatever you do. I shall not inquire whether you understand Demosthenes, Tacitus, or the jus publicum imperil ; but I shall inquire whether your utterance is pleasing, your style not only pure but elegant, your manners noble and easy, your air and address engaging; in short, whether you are a gentle- man, a man of fashion, and fit to keep good company or not ; for, till I am satisfied in these particulars, you and I must by no means meet ; I could not possibly stand it. It is in your power to become all this at Paris, if you please. Consult with Lady Hervey and Madame Monconseil * upon all these matters, and they will speak to you, and advise you freely. Tell them, that bisogna compatire ancora, that you are utterly new in the world, that you are desirous to form yourself, that you beg they will reprove, advise, and correct you, that you know that none can do it so well, and that you will implicitly follow their directions. This, together with your careful observation of the manners of the best company, will really form you. Abbe Guasco,t a friend of mine, will come to you as soon as he knows of your arrival at Paris ; he is well received in the best companies there, and will introduce you to them. He will be desirous to do you any service he can ; he is active and curious, * See note to Lord Chesterfield's first letter to Madame de Monconseil, June 24, 1745. f Octavien de Guasco, a native of Pignerol, in 1712 became a Canon of Tournay, and a Member of the Academie des Inscriptions, to which he con- tributed several interesting essays. He was also the author of an Histoire du Pape Clement F.,and the translator of Cantemir into Italian but these works have remained unpublished. M. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 381 and can give you information upon most things. He is a sort of complaisant of the President Montesquieu, to whom you have a letter. I imagine that this letter will not wait for you very long at Paris, where I reckon you will be in about a fortnight. Adieu ! CLII. a LONDRES, ce 24 Decembre, V.S. 1750. MON CHER AMI, Vous voila a la fin Parisien, et il faut s'adresser & un Parisien en Francois. Yous voudrez bien aussi me repondre de m6me, puisque je serai bien aise de voir a quel point vous possedez 1'elegance, la delicatesse, et 1'orthographe de cette langue, qui est devenue, pour ainsi dire, le langue universelle de 1'Europe. On m'assure que vous la parlez fort bien, mais il y a bien et bien. Et tel passera pour la bien parler hors de Paris, qui passeroit luimeme pour Gaulois a Paris. Dans ce pays des modes, le langage inline a la sienne, et qui change presqu' aussi souvent que celle des habits. L'affecte, le precieux, le neoJogique, y sont trop a la mode d'aujourd'hui. Connoissez les, remarques les, et parlez les meme, & la bonne heure, mais ne vous en laissez pas infecter. L'esprit aussi a sa mode, et actuellement & Paris, c'est la mode d'en avoir, en depit meme de Minerve ; tout le monde court apres 1'esprit, qui par parenthese ne se laisse jamais attraper ; s'il ne se pre- sente pas, on a beau courir. Mais malheureusement pour ceux qui courent apres, ils attrapent quelque chose qu'ils prennenr, pour de 1'esprit, et qu'ils donnent pour tel. C^est tout au plus la bonne fortune d'lxion, c'est une vapeur qu'ils embrassent, au lieu de la deesse qu'ils poursuivent. De cette erreur resultent ces beaux sentimens qu'on n'a jamais senti, ces pen sees fausses que la nature n'a jamais produite, et ces expressions entortillees et obscures, que non seulement on n'entend point, mais qu'on ne pent pas meme dechiffrer ni deviner. C'est de tous ces in- grediens que sont composes les deux tiers des nouveaux livres Francois qui paroissent. C'est la nouvelle cuisine du Parnasse, ou 1'alambic travaille au lieu du pot et de la broche, et ou les quintessences et les extraits domiuent. N.B. Le sel Attique en est banni. 382 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. II vous faudra bien de terns en terns manger de cette nouvelie cuisine. Mais ne vous y laissez pas corrompre le gout. Et quand vous voudrez donner & manger k votre tour, etudiez la bonne vieille cuisine du terns de Louis Quatorze. H y avoit alors des chefs admirables, comme Corneille, Boileau, Racine, et La Fontaine. Tout ce qu'ils appretoient e*toit simple, sain, et solide. Sans me"taphore, ne vous laissez pas eblouir par le faux brillant, le recherche, les antitheses & la mode ; mais servez vous de votre propre bon sens, et appellez les anciens & votre secours, pour vous en garantir. D'un autre cote", ne vous moquez pas de ceux, qui sV sont laisses seduire ; vous etes encore trop jeune pour faire le critique, et pour vous eriger en vengeur severe du bon sens leze. Seulement ne vous laissez pas pervertir, mais ne songez pas & convertir les autres. Laissez les jour tranquillement de leurs erreurs dans le gout, com me dans la religion. Le gout en France a depuis un siecle et demi, eu bien du haut et du bas, aussi bien que la France meme. Le bon gout commenga seulement a se faire jour, sous le regne, je ne dis pas de Louis Treize, mais du Cardinal de Richelieu, et fut encore epure sous celui de Louis Quatorze, grand Roi au moins, s'il n'etoit pas grand homme. Corneille etoit le restaurateur du vrai, et le fondateur du theatre Francois ; se ressentant toujours un peu des Concetti des Italiens et des Agudeze des Espagnols ; temoin les epigrammes qu'il fait debitor & Chimdne dans tout 1'exces de sa douleur. Mais avant son terns, les Troubadours, et les Romanciers etoient autant de fous, qui trouvoient des sots pour les admirer. Vers la fin du regne du Cardinal de Richelieu, et au commence- ment de celui de Louis Quatorze, l'H6tel de Rambouillet etoit le Temple du Gout, mais d'un gout pas encore tout & fait epure. C'eboit plus-tot un laboratoire d'esprit, ou Fon donnoit la torture au bon sens, pour en tirer une essence subtile. Voiture y travail- loit, et suoit meme & grosses gouttes pour faire de 1'esprit. Mais enfin Boileau et Moliere fixerent le gout du vrai ; en depit des Scudery et des Calprenedes, &c. Us deconfirent et mirent en fuite les Artamenes, les Jubas^, les Oroondates, et tous ces heros de Romans, qui valoient pourtant chacun seul une armee. Ces fous chercherent dans les bibliotheques un asyle qu'on leur refusa; et ils ne'en trouverent que dans quelques ruelles. Je vous conseille pourtant de lire un tome de Cleopatre et un de LORD CHESTERFIELD S LETTERS. 383 Clelie, sans quoi il vous sera imi)ossible de vous former une idee de ces extravagances; mais Dieu vous garde d'aller jusqu'ai*. douzieme. Le gout resta pur et vrai pendant presque tout le regne de Louis Quatorze, et jusqu'a ce qu'un tres beau genie y donna (mais sans le vouloir) quelque atteinte. C'etoit Monsieur de Fontenelle,* qui avec tout 1'esprit du monde, et un grand s(?avoir, sacrifioit peutetre un peu trop aux Graces, dont il etoit le nour- rissou, et 1'eleve favori. Admire avec raison, on voulut 1'imiter ; mais malheureusement pour le siecle, Pauteur des Pastorales, de 1'Histoire des Oracles, et du Theatre Francois, trouva moins d'imitateurs, que le Chevalier d'Her ne trouva de singes. Con- trefait depuis par mille auteurs, il n'a pas ete imite que je scacbe par un seul. A Pheure qu'il est, Pempire du vrai gout ne me paroit pas trop bien affermi en France; il subsiste a la verite, mais il est dechire par des partis ; il y a le parti des petits maitres, celui des cail- lettes, celui des fades auteurs dont les ouvrages sont, verba et voces et prceterea nihit, et enfin nn parti nombreux et fort a la mode, d'auteurs qui debito.nt dans un galimatias metaphysique leurs faux raffinemens, sur les mouvemens et les sentimens de I'ame, du coeur, et de I' esprit. Ne vous en laissez pas imposer par la mode ; ni par des cliques que vous pourrez frequenter ; mais essayez toutes ces differentes especes, avant que de les recevoir en payement au coin du bon sens et de la raison ; et soyez bien persuade que rien n'est beau que le vrai. f Tout brillant qui ne resulte pas de la solidite et de la justesse de la penseo, n'est qu'un faux brillant. Le mot Italien sur le diamant est bien vrai a cet egard, quanta piu sodezza, tanto piu splendore. Tout ceci n'empe'che pas que vous ne deviez vous conformer * Bernard le Bouyer de Fontenelle "was one of the very few eminent men who have attained their hundredth year. He was born at Bouen, February 11, 1657, and died at Paris, January 9, 1757. He is now chiefly remembered for his Entretiens sur la Pkiralite des Mondes, of which Vol- taire says very happily, " L'ignorant 1'entendit, le savant 1'admira ! " See letter LXXXY., Dec. 6, 1748. f An allusion to the line of Boileau in his Epitre au Marquis de Seigne~ lay, " Rien n'est beau que le vrai ; le vrai seul est aimable." 384 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. exterieurement aux modes et aux tons des differentes compagnies ou vous vous trouverez. Parlez epigramrnes avec les petits maitres, sentimens faux avec les caillettes, et galimatias avec les beaux esprits par etat. A la bonne heure ; a votre age, ce n'est pas & vous a donner le ton a la compagnie, mais au contraire a le prendre. Bxaminez bien pourtant, et pesez tout cela en vous ine'me; distinguez bien le faux du vrai, et ne prenez pas le clinquant du Tasse pour I' or de Virgile* Vous trouverez en ineme terns, & Paris, des auteurs et des com- pagnies tres solides. Vous n'entendrez point des fadaises, du precieux, du guinde, chez Madame de Monconseil, ni aux hotels de Matignon et de Coigny, ou elle vous presentera ; le President Montesquieu ne vous parlera pas pointes. Son livre de PEsprit des Loix, ecrit en langue vulgaire, vous plaira, et vous instruira ^galement. Frequentez le theatre quand on y jouera les pieces de Corneille, de Racine, et de Moliere, ou il n'y a que du naturel et du vrai. Je ne pretends pas par la donner 1'exclusion a plusieurs pieces modernes qui sont admirables, et en dernier lieu, Cenie,f piece pieine de sentimens, mais de sentimens vrais, naturels, et dans lesquels on se reconnoit. Voulez vous connoitre les caracteres du jour, lisez les ouvrages de Crebillon le fils, et de Marivaux. Le premier est un peintre excellent ; le second a beaucoup etudie et connoit bien le coeur, peut-e'tre me" me un peu trop. J Les Egare- mens du Coeur et de FEsprit par Crebillon est un livre excellent dans ce genre ; les caracteres y sont bien marques ; il vous amusera infiniment, et ne vous sera pas inutile. L'Histoire Japonoise de Tanza'i, et de Neadarne, du m^me auteur, est une aimable extravagance, et parsemee de reflexions tres justes ; enfin * A saying of Boilean. See Letter CXXXII., Feb. 8, 1750. f By Madame de Graffigny. See Letter of 20 Feb., 1752, and Letter to Madame de Monconseil of Nov. 1, 1750. J The judgment of Lord Chesterfield on these two writers, though fully agreeing with that of Horace Walpole, and other accomplished men among his contemporaries, has been by no means confirmed by posterity. Marivaux has given rise in France to the word Marivaudage, usually applied to anything maukish or insipid ; and most men of the present day, who have looked into the novels of Crebillon the Younger, will not think Mr. Macaulay too severe in calling him " a scribbler as licentious as Louvet, and as dull as Rapin ! " (Edinburgh Eeview, No. cxvii., p. 235). M. Essay on " Horace Walpole." LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 385 vous trouverez bien a Paris de quoi vous former un gout sur et juste, pourvu que vous ne preniez pas le change. Comme je vous laisse sur votre bonne foi a Paris sans sur- veillant, je me flatte que vous n'abuserez pas de ma confiance. Je ne demande pas que vous soyez Capucin ; bien au contraire, je vous recommande les plaisirs, mais j'exige que ce soyent les plaisirs d'un honnete hornme. Ces plaisirs la donnent du brillant an caractere d'un jeune homme ; mais la debauche avilit et degrade. J'aurai des relations tres vraies et detaillees de votre conduite, et selon ces relations je serai plus, ou moins, ou point du tout, & vous. Adieu ! P.S. Ecrivez moi sans faute une fois la semaine, et re'pondez & celle-ci en Franpois. Faufilez vous tant que vous le pourrez chez les ministres etrangers. C'est voyager en differens endroits sans changer de place. Parlez Italien a tous les Italiens, et Allemand a tous les Allernands que vous trouverez, pour entretenir ces deux langues. Je vous souhaite, mon cher, autant de nouvelles annees que vous meriterez, et pas une de plus. Mais puissiez vous en meriter un grand nombre ! CLIIL LONDON, January 3, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, By your letter of the 5th, N.S., I find that your debut at Paris has been a good one ; you are entered into good company, and I dare say you will not sink into bad. Frequent the houses where you have been once invited, and have none of that shyness which makes most of our countrymen strangers where they might be intimate and domestic if they pleased. Wherever you have a general invitation to sup when you please, profit of it with decency, and go every now and then. Lord Albemarle will, I am sure, be extremely kind to you ; but his house is only a dinner house, and, as I am informed, frequented by no French people. Should he happen to employ you in his bureau, which I much doubt, you must write a better hand than your common one, or you will get no credit by your manuscripts ; for your hand is at present an illiberal one ; it is neither a hand of business nor of a VOL. I. CO 38t> LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. gentleman, but the hand of a schoolboy writing his exercise, which he hopes will never be read. Madame de Monconseil gives me a favourable account of you, and so do Marquis de Matignon and Madame du Boccage ; * they all say that you desire to please, and consequently promise me that you will ; and they judge right; for whoever really desires to please, and has (as you have now) the means of learning how, certainly will please ; and that is the great point of life ; it makes all other things easy. Whenever you are with Madame de Monconseil, Madame du Boccage, or other women of fashion, with whom you are tolerably free, say frankly and naturally : Je n'ai point d'usage du monde, j'y suis encore bein neuf, je souhaiterois ardemment de plaire, mais je ne sqais gueres comment m'y prendre ; ayez la bonte, Madame, de me fairs part de votre secret de plaire a tout le monde. J'en ferai ma fortune, et il vous en restera pourtant toujours plus qu'il ne vous en faut. When, in consequence of this request, they shall tell you of any little error, awkwardness, or impropriety, you should not only feel but express the warmest acknowledgment. Though nature should suffer, and she will at first hearing them, Que la critique la plus severe, est a votre egard la preuve la plus marquee de leur amitie. Madame du Boccage tells me particularly to inform you, Q'i'il me fera toujours plaisir et honneur de me venir voir; il est vrai qu'a son age le plaisir de causer est froid, mais je tacherai de lui faire connoissance avec des jeunes gens, etc. Make use of this in- vitation, and as you live in a manner next door to her, step in and out there frequently. Monsieur du Boccage will go with you, he tells me, with great pleasure, to the plays, and point out to you whatever deserves your knowing there. This is worth your acceptance too ; he has a very good taste. I have not yet heard from Lady Hervey upon your subject, but as you inform me that you have already supped with her once, I look upon you as adopted by her ; consult her in all your little matters ; tell her any difficulties that may occur to you ; ask her what you should do or say in such cases ; she has I 'usage du monde en perfection, and will help you to acquire it. Madame de Berkenrode est petrie de graces, and your quotation is very applicable to her. You * See note to the first letter addressed to her by Lord Chesterfield, June 14. 1750. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 387 may be there, I dare say, as often as you please, and I would advise you to sup there once a week. You say, very justly, that as Mr. Harte is leaving you, you shall want advice mor^ than ever j you shall never want mine ; and as you have already had so much of it, I must rather repeat than add to what I have already given you ; but that I will do, and add to it occasionally, as circumstances may require. At pre- sent, I shall only remind you of your two great objects, which you should always attend to : they are Parliament and foreign affairs. With regard to the former, you cau do nothing, while abroad, but attend carefully to the purity, correctness, and elegancy of your diction, the clearness and gracefulness of your utterance, in whatever language you speak. As for the Parlia- mentary knowledge, I will take care of that, when you come home. With regard to foreign affairs, everything you do abroad may and ought to tend that way. Your reading should be chiefly historical ; I do not mean of remote, dark, and fabulous history, still less of jimcrack natural history of fossils, minerals, plants, etc., but I mean the useful, political, and constitutional history of Europe, for these last three centuries and a half. The other thing necessary for your foreign object, and not less neces- sary than either ancient or modern knowledge, is a great know- ledge of the world, manners, politeness, address, and le ton de la bonne compagnie. In that view, keeping a great deal of good company is the principal part to which you are now to attend. It seems ridiculous to tell you, but it is most certainly true, that your dancing-master is at this time the man in all Europe of the greatest importance to you. You must dance well, in order to sit, stand, and walk well ; and you must do all these well, in order to please. What with your exercises, some reading, and a great deal of company, your day is, I confess, extremely taken up ; but the day, if well employed, is long enough for everything ; and I am sure you will not slattern away one moment of it in inaction. At your age people have strong and active spirits, alacrity and vivacity in all they do; are imprigrl, indefatigable, and quick. The difference is, that a young fellow of parts exerts all those happy dispositions in the pursuit of proper objects ; endeavours to excel in the solid, and in the showish parts of life ; whereas a silly puppy, or a dull rogue, throws away all his 388 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. youth and spirits upon trifles, when he is serious, or upon dis- graceful vices, while he aims at pleasures. This, I am sure, will not be your case ; your good sense and your good conduct hitherto are your guarantees with me for the future. Continue only at Paris as you have begun, and your stay there will make yon, what I have always wished you to be ; as near perfection as our nature permits. Adieu, my dear ; remember to write to me once a week, not as to a father, but without reserve as to a friend. CLIV. (January, 1751.) Tour riding, fencing, and dancing, constantly, at the Academy, will, I hope, lengthen you out a little ; therefore, pray take a great deal of those exercises; for I would very fain have you be, at least, five feet eight inches high, as Mr. Harte once wrote me word that he hoped you would. Mr. Pelham likewise told me, that you speak German and French as fluently and cor- rectly as a Saxon or a Parisian. I am very glad of both ; take care not to forget the former ; there is no danger of your forgetting the latter. As I both thank and applaud you for having, hither- to, employed yourself so well abroad, I must again repeat to you, that the manner in which you shall now employ it, at Paris, will be finally decisive of your fortune, figure, and character in the world, and consequently of my esteem and kindness. Eight or nine months determine the whole ; which whole is very nearly complete. It consists in this only ; to retain and increase the learning you have already required ; to add to it the still more useful knowledge of the World ; and to adorn both, with the manners, the address, the air, and the Graces of a Man of Fashion. Without the last, I will say of your youth and your knowledge what Horace * says to Venus Parum comis sine te Juventas, Mercuriusque. The two great subjects of conversation now at Paris are, the dispute between the Crown and the Clergy, and between the Crown and the States of Brittany ; inform yourself thoroughly of both; which will let you into the most material parts of the * Odes, I., 30. LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 389 French history and constitution. There are four letters printed, and very well written, against the pretended rights and im- munities of the Clergy; to which there is an Answer, very well written too, in defence of those immunities. Read them both with attention; and also all representations, memorials, and whatever shall appear, for or against the claims of the States of Brittany. I dare say, that ninety-nine in a hundred, of the English at Paris, do not give themselves the trouble of inquiring into those disputes, but content themselves with saying that there is a confounded bustle and rout between the King and the Priests, and between the King and the States of Brittany, but that, for their parts, they do not trouble their heads about them ; fight Dog, fight Bear ; but, with submission to them, these are objects worthy the attention and inquiries of a man of sense and business. Adieu, my dear child! Yours tenderly. CLV. LONDON, January 14, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, Among the many good things Mr. Harte has told me of you, two in particular gave me great pleasure. The first, that you are exceedingly careful and jealous of tho dignity of your character; that is the sure and solid foundation upon which you must both stand and rise. A man's moral character is a more delicate thing than a woman's reputation of chastity. A slip or two may possibly be forgiven her, and her character may be clarified by subsequent and continued good conduct ; but a man's moral character once tainted, is irreparably destroyed. The second was, that you had acquired a most correct and extensive know- ledge of foreign affairs, such as the history, the treaties, and the forms of government of the several countries of Europe. This sort of knowledge, little attended to here, will make you not only useful, but necessary, in your future destination, and carry you very far. He added, that you wanted from hence some books relative to our laws and constitution, our colonies, and our commerce ; of which you know less than of those of any other part of Europe. I will send you what short books I can find of that sort, to give you a general notion of those things ; but you 3i)U LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. cannot have time to go into their depths at present, you cannot now engage with new folios ; you and I will refer the constitu- tional part of this country to our meeting here, when we will enter seriously into it, and read the necessary books together. In the meantime, go on in the course you are in of foreign matters ; converse with Ministers and others of every country, watch the transactions of every Court, and endeavour to trace them up to their source. This, with your physics, your geometry, and your exercises, will be all that you can possibly have time for at Paris; for you must allow a great deal for company and pleasures ; it is they that must give you those manners, that address, that tournure of the beau monde, which will qualify you for your future destination. You must first please, in order to get the confidence, and consequently the secrets, of the Courts and Ministers for whom and with whom you negotiate. I will send you by the first opportunity, a short book written by Lord Bolingbroke, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle, containing remarks upon the History of England ; which will give you a clear general notion of our constitution, and which will serve you, at the same time (like all Lord Bolingbroke's works), for a model of eloquence and style.* I will also send you Sir Josiah Child's little book upon trade, which may properly be called the Commercial Grammar. He lays down the true princi- ples of commerce, and his conclusions from them are generally very just. Since you turn your thoughts a little towards trade and com- merce, which I am very glad you do, I will recommend a French book to you, that you will easily get at Paris, and which I take to be the best book in the world of that kind ; I mean the Dictionnaire de Commerce de Savary, in three volumes in folio ; where you will find everything that relates to trade, commerce, specie, exchange, etc., moso clearly stated; and not only relative to France, but to the whole world. You will easily suppose, that I do not advise you to read such a book as tout dr, suite ; but I * On this point Lord Chesterfield's opinion entirely coincides with Lord Chatham's, who at nearly the same period (May 4, 1754) writes as follows to his nephew: " Oldcastle's Remarks to be studied and almost got by heart for the inimitable beauty of the style as well as the matter." Cor- respondence, vol. i. p. 109. M. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 391 only mean that yon should have it at hand to have recourse to occasionally. With this great stock of both useful and ornamental knowledge, which you have already acquired, and which, by your application and industry, you are daily increasing, you will lay such a solid foundation of future figure and fortune, that, if you complete it by all the accomplishments of manners, graces, etc., I know nothing which you may not aim at, and, in time, hope for. Your great point at present at Paris, to which all other considerations must give way, is to become entirely a man of fashion ; to be well-bred without ceremony, easy without negligence, steady and intrepid with modesty, genteel without affectation, insinuating without meanness, cheerful without being noisy, frank without indiscretion, and secret without any mysteriousness j to know the proper time and place for whatever you say or do, and to do it with an air of condition ; all this is not so soon nor so easily learned as people imagine, but requires observation and time. The world is an immense folio, which demands a great deal of time and attention to be read and understood as it ought to be ; you have not yet read above four or five pages of it ; and you will have but barely time to dip now and then in other less im- portant books. Lord Albemarle has (I know) wrote to a friend of his here that you do not frequent him so much as he expected and desired ; that he fears somebody or other has given you wrong impressions of him ; and that I may possibly think, from your being seldom at his house, that he has been wanting in his attentions to you. I told the person who told me this, that, on the contrary, you seemed, by your letters to me, to be extremely pleased with Lord Albemarle's behaviour to you ; but that you were obliged to give up dining abroad, during your course of experimental philosophy. I guessed the true reason, which I believe was, that, as no French people frequent his house, you rather choose to dine at other places; where you were likely to meet with better company than your countrymen ; and you were in the right of it. However, I would have you show no shyness to Lord Albemarle, but go to him, and dine with him oftener than it may be you would wish ; for the sake of having him speak well of you here when he returns. He is a good deal in fashion here, and his puffing you (to use an 392 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. awkward expression) before your return here, will be of great use to you afterwards. People in general take characters, as they do most things, upon trust, rather than be at the trouble of examin- ing them themselves ; and the decisions of four or five fashionable people, in every place, are final, more particularly with regard to characters, which all can hear, and but few judge of. Do not mention the least of this to any mortal, and take care that Lord Albemarle do not suspect that you know anything of the matter. Lord Huntingdon and Lord Stormont * are, I hear, arrived at Paris; you have, doubtless, seen them. Lord Stormont is well spoken of here. However, in your connections, if you form any with them, show rather a preference to Lord Huntingdon, for reasons which you will easily guess. Mr. Harte goes this week to Cornwall, to take possession of his living. He has been installed at Windsor. He will return hither in about a month, when your literary correspondence with him will be regularly carried on. Your mutual concern at part- ing was a good sigu for both. I have this moment received good accounts of you from Paris. Go on, vous etes en bon train. Adieu ! CLVI. LONDON, January 21, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, In all my letters from Paris, I have the pleasure of finding, among many other good things, your docility mentioned with emphasis. This is the sure way of improving in those things, which you only want. It is true, they are little ; but it is as true, too, that they are necessary things. As they are mere matters of usage and mode, it is no disgrace for anybody of your age to be ignorant of them; and the most compendious way of learning them is, fairly to avow your ignorance, and to consult those who, from long usage and experience, know them best. Good sense, and good nature, suggest civility in general ; but, in good breed- ing, there are a thousand little delicacies, which are established * David Murray succeeded, in 1748, as seventh Viscount Stormont. He afterwards tilled various high public offices, as Ambassador to Paris and Secretary of State ; and on the death of his uncle, in 1792, became the second Earl of Mansfield. He died in 1796. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 393 only by custom ; and it is these little elegancies of manners which distinguish a courtier and a man of fashion from the vulgar. I am assured, by different people, that your air is already much improved ; and one of my correspondents makes you the true French compliment of saying, J'ose vous promettre qu'il sera bientot comme un de nous autrea. However unbecoming this speech may be in the mouth of a Frenchman, I am very glad that they think it applicable to you ; for I would have you not only adopt, but rival, the best manners and usages of the place you are at, be they what they will that is the versatility of manners, which is so useful in the course of the world. Choose your models well at Paris, and then rival them in their own way. There are fashionable words, phrases, and even gestures at Paris, which are called du bon ton ; not to mention certaines petites politeases et attentions) qui ne sont rien en elles memes, which fashion has rendered necessary. Make yourself master of all these things, and to such a degree as to make the French say, qu'on diroit que c'est un Francois ; and when hereafter you shall be at other Courts, do the same thing there, and conform to the fashionable manners and usage of the place ; that is what the French themselves are not apt to do; wherever they go, they retain their own manners, as thinking them the best ; but granting them to be so, they are still in the wrong not to con- form to those of the place. One would desire to please, wher- ever one is ; and nothing is more innocently flattering, than an approbation, and an imitation of the people one converses with. I hope your colleges with Marcel* go on prosperously. In those ridiculous, though, at the same time, really important lec- tures, pray attend ; and desire your professor also to attend more particularly to the chapter of the arms. It is they that decide a man's being genteel or otherwise, more than any other part of the body. A twist, or stiffness in the wrist, will make any man in Europe look awkward. The next thing to be attended to, is your coming into a room, and presenting yourself to a company. This gives the first impression ; and the first impression is often * The most celebrated dancing-master of his day. He once exclaimed, in a transport of enthusiasm real or pretended, Que de clioses dans un menuet! On another occasion, he said to one of his English pupils, Monsieur, on saute dans les autres pays ; on ne danse qu'a Paris ! M. 394 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. a lasting one. Therefore, pray desire Professor Marcel to make you come in and go out of his room frequently, and in the sup- position of different companies being there, such as ministers, women, mixed companies, etc. Those who present themselves well have a certain dignity in their air, which, without the least seeming mixture of pride, at once engages, and is respected. I should not so often repeat, nor so long dwell upon such trifles, with anybody that had less solid and valuable knowledge than you have. Frivolous people attend to those things par preference ; they know nothing else ; my fear with you is, that, from knowing better things, you should despise these too much, and think them of much less consequence than they really are ; for they are of a great deal, and more especially to you. Pleasing, and governing women, may in time be of great service to you. They often please and govern others. A propos : are you in love with Madame de Berkenrode still, or has some other taken her place iu your affections ? I take it for granted, that qius te cumque domat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus. Un arrangement honn&e sied bien a un galant homme. In that case, 1 recommend you to the utmost discretion, and the pro- ibundest silence. Bragging of, hinting at, intimating, or even affectedly disclaiming and denying such an arrangement, will equally discredit you among men and women. An unaffected silence upon that subject is the only true medium. In your commerce with women, and indeed with men too, une certaine douceur is particularly engaging ; it is that which consti- tutes that character, which the French talk of so much, and so justly value ; I mean I'aimable. This douceur is not so easily described as felt. It is the compound result of different things : a complaisance, a flexibility, but not a servility of manners ; an air of softness in the countenance, gesture and expression ; equally whether you concur or differ with the person you con- verse with. Observe those carefully, who have that douceur. which charms you and others ; and your own good sense will soon enable you to discover the different ingredients of which it is composed. You must be more particularly attentive to this douceur, whenever you are obliged to refuse what is asked of you, or to say what in itself cannot be very agreeable to those to whom you yay it. It is then the necessary gilding of a disagreeable LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEKS. 395 pill. L'aimoble consists in a thousand of these little things aggregately. It is the suaviter in 'inodo, which I have so often recommended to you. The respectable, Mr. Harte assures me, you do not want, and I believe him. Study then carefully, and acquire perfectly the aimdile, and you will have everything. Abbe Guasco, who is another of your panegyrists, writes me word, that he has taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain's ; where you will be welcome as often as you please, and the oftener the better. Profit of that, upon the principle of travelling in different countries without changing places. He says too, that he will take you to the Parliament, when any remarkable cause is to be tried. That is very well ; go through the several chambers of the Parliament, and see and hear what they are doing ; join practice and observation to your theoretical knowledge of their rights and privileges. No Englishman has the least notion of them. I need not recommend you to go to the bottom of the constitu- tional and political knowledge of countries ; for Mr. Harte tells me, that you have a peculiar turn that way, and have informed yourself most correctly of them. I must now put some queries to you, as to a juris publici peritus, which I am sure you can answer me, and which I own I cannot answer myself; they are upon a subject now much talked of. 1st, Are there any particular forms requisite for the election of a King of the Romans, different from those which are necessary for the election of an Emperor ? 2dly, Is not a King of the Romans as legally elected by the votes of a majority of the Electors, as by two-thirds, or by the unanimity of the Electors ? 3dly, Is there any particular law or constitution of the empire that distinguishes, either in matter or in form, the election of a King of the Romans from that of an Emperor ? And is not the Golden Bull of Charles the Fourth equally the rule for both ? 4thly, Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the Klectors (I have forgotten when) some rules and limitations agreed upon concerning the election of a King of the Romans ? and were those restrictions legal, and did they obtain the force of law ? How happy am I, my dear child, that I can apply to you for knowledge, and with a certainty of being rightly informed ! It is 396 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. knowledge, more than quick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business. A man who is master of his matter will, with inferior parts, be too hard in Parliament, and indeed anywhere else, for a man of better parts, who knows his subject superficially : and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and elocution, he must neces- sarily soon be at the head of that assembly ; but without those two, no knowledge is sufficient. Lord Huntingdon writes me word he has seen you, and that you have renewed your old school acquaintance. Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormont ; and also of the other English people of fashion you meet with. I promise you inviolable secrecy on my part. You and I must now write to each other as friends, and without the least, reserve; there will for the future be a thousand things in my letters, which I would not have any mortal living but yourself to see or know. Those you will easily distinguish, and neither show nor repeat ; and I will do the same by you. To come to another subject, for I have a pleasure in talking over every subject with you : How deep are you in Italian ? Do you understand Ariosto, Tasso, Boccaccio, and Machiavelli? If you do, you know enough of it, and may know all the rest, by reading, when you have time. Little or no business is written in Italian letters that may in time come in your way, and to speak Italian tolerably, to those very few Italians who speak no French, give yourself no farther trouble about that language, till you happen to have full leisure to perfect yourself in it. It is not the same with regard to German ; your speaking and writing that well, will particularly distinguish you from every other man in England j and is, moreover, of great use to any one who is, as probably you will be, employed in the empire. Therefore, pray cultivate it sedulously, by writing four or five lines of German every day, and by speaking it to every German you meet with. You have now got a footing in a great many good houses at Paris, in which I advise you to make yourself domestic. This is to be done by a certain easiness of carriage, and a decent familiarity. Not by way of putting yourself upon the frivolous footing of being sans consequence, but by doing in some degree, the honours of the house and table, calling yourself en badinant, le galopin d'ici, saying to the master or mistress, ceci est de mon LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 397 departemeni, je m'en charge, avouez que je m'en acquitte a merveille. That sort of badinage has something engaging and liant in it, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable and use- ful to establish in good houses and with people of fashion. Mere formal visits, dinners and suppers, upon formal invitations, are not the thing ; they add to no connection nor information ; but it is the easy, careless ingress and egress, at all hours, that forms the pleasing and profitable commerce of life. The post is so negligent, that I lose some letters from Paris entirely, and receive others much later than I should. To this I ascribe my having received no letter from you for above a fort- night, which, to my impatience, seems a long time. I expect to hear from you once a week. Mr. Harte is gone to Cornwall, and will be back in about three weeks. I have a packet of books to send by the first opportunity, which, I believe, will be Mr. Yorke's return to Paris. The Greek books come from Mr. Harte, and the English ones from your humble servant. Read Lord Bolingbroke's with great attention, as well to the style as to the matter. I wish you could form yourself such a style in every language. Style is the dress of thoughts, and a well-dressed thought, like a well-dressed man, appears to great advantage. Yours. Adieu. CLYII. LONDON, January 28, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, A bill for ninety pounds sterling, was brought me, the other day, said to be drawn upon me by you ; I scrupled paying it at first, not upon the account of the sum, but because you had sent me no letter of advice, which is always done in those transactions; and still more, because I did not perceive that you had signed it. The person who presented it desired me to look again, and that I should discover your name at the bottom ; accordingly I looked again, and with the help of my magnifying glass, did perceive, that what I had first taken only for somebody's mark was, in truth, your name written in the worst and smallest hand I ever saw in my life. I cannot write quite so ill, but it was some- thing like this [here he imitates it] . However, 1 paid it at a venture; though I would almost rather lose the money, than that 398 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. signature should be yours. All gentlemen, and all men of busi- ness, write their names always in the same way, that their signa- ture may be so well known as not to be easily counterfeited ; and they generally sign in a larger character than their common hand ; whereas your name was in a less, and a worse hand than your common writing. This suggested to me the various accidents which may very probably happen to you while you write so ill. For instance, if you were to write in such a character to the Secretary's office, your letter would immediately be sent to the decipherer, as containing matters of the utmost secrecy, not fit to be trusted to the common character. If you were to write to an antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of learning) would certainly try it by the Runic, Celtic, or Sclavonian alphabet ; never suspecting it to be a modern character. And, if you were to send a poulet to a fine woman, in such a hand, she would think that it really came from the poulaillier, which, by the bye, is the etymology of the word, poulet ; for Henry the fourth of France used to send billets-doux to his mistresses, by his poulaillier, under pretence of sending them chickens ; which gave the name of poulets to those short, but expressive, manuscripts. I have often told you, that every man who has the use of his eyes and of his hand, can write whatever hand he pleases ; and it is plain that you can, since you write both the Greek and German characters, which you never learned of a writing master, extremely well, though your common hand which you learned of a master, is an exceeding bad and illiberal one, equally unfit for business or common use. I do not desire that you should write the laboured, stiff character of a writing master ; a man of business must write quick and well, and that depends singly upon use. I would therefore advise you to get some very good writing-master at Paris, and apply to it for a month only, which will be sufficient; for, upon my word, the writing of a genteel plain hand of business is of much more importance than you think. You will say, it may be, that when you write so very ill, it is because you are in a hurry ? a man of sense may be in haste, but can never be in a hurry, because he knows, that whatever he does in a hurry he must necessarily do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but he will take care not to let that haste hinder his doing it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the object proves (as LORD CHESTERFIELDS LETTERS. it commonly does) too big for them ; they run, they hare, they puzzle, confound, and perplex, themselves; they want to do everything at once, and never do it at all. But a man of sense takes the time necessary for doing the thing he is about well : and his haste to despatch a business, only appears by the contin- uity of his application to it : he pursues it with a cool steadiness, and finishes it before he begins any other. I own your time is much taken up, and you have a great many different things to do ; but remember, that you had much better do half of them well, and leave the other half undone, than do them all indifferently. Moreover, the few seconds that are saved in the course of the day, by writing ill instead of well, do not amount to an object of time, by any means equivalent to the disgrace or ridicule of writing such a scrawl. Consider, that if your very bad writing could t'urnish me with matter of ridicule, what will it not do to others, who do not view you in the same light that I do. There was a Pope, I think it was Pope Chigi,* who was justly ridiculed for his attention to little things, and his inability in great ones ; and therefore called maximus in minimis, and minimus in maximis. Why ? Because he attended to little things, w"hen he had great ones to do. At this particular period of your life, and at the place you are now in, you have only little things to do ; and you should make it habitual to you to do them well, that they may require no attention from you when you have, as I hope you will have, greater things to mind. Make a good hand- writing familiar to you now, that you may hereafter have nothing but your matter to think of, when you have oceasion to write to Kings and Min- isters. Dance, dress, and present yourself habitually well now, that you may have none of those little things to think of hereafter, and which will be all necessary to be done well occasionally, when you will have greater things to do. As 1 am eternally thinking of everything that can be relative to you, one thing has occurred to me which I think necessary to mention, in order to prevent the difficulties which it might other- wise lay you under ; it is this as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impossible for you to frequent your first acquaint- ances so much as you did while you had no others. As for example, at your first debut I suppose you were chiefly at Madame * Alexander VII. See Letter 0V., August 10, 1749. 400 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. Monconseil's, Lady Hervey's, and Madame Du Boccage's. Now that you have got so many other houses, you cannot be at theirs so often as you used ; but pray take take care not to give them the least reason to think that you neglect or despise them for the sake of new and more dignified and shining acquaintances, which would be ungrateful and imprudent on your part, and never for- given on theirs. Call upon them often, though you do not stay with them so long as formerly ; tell them that you are sorry you are obliged to go away, but that you have such and such engage- ments, with which good- breeding obliges you to comply; and insinuate that you would rather stay with them. In short, take care to make as many personal friends, and as few personal enemies as possible. I do not mean by personal friends, intimate and confi- dential friends, of which no man can hope to have half a dozen in the whole course of his life; but I mean friends in the common acceptation of the word, that is, people who speak well of you, and who would rather do you good than harm, consistently with their own interest and no farther. Upon the whole, I recom- mend to you again and again les Graces. Adorned by them, you may. in a manner, do what you please; it will be approved of; without them your best qualities will lose half their efficacy. Endeavour to be fashionable among the French, which will soon make you fashionable here. Monseiur de Matignon already calls you le petit Francois. If you can get that name generally at Paris it will put you d la mode. Adieu ! my dear child. CLVIII. LONDON, February 4. O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, The accounts which I receive of you from Paris grow every day more and more satisfactory. Lord Albemarle has wrote a sort of panegyric of you, which has been seen by many people here, and which will be a very useful forerunner for you. Being in fashion is an important point for anybody anywhere, but it would be a very great one for you to be established in the fashion here before you return. Your business would be half done by it, as I am sure you would not give people reason to change their favour- able presentiments of you. The good that is said of you will not, I am convinced, make you a coxcomb ; and, on the other hand, the LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 401 being thought still to want some little accomplishments will, I am persuaded, not mortify you, but only animate you to acquire them ; I will, therefore, give you both fairly in the following extract of a let- ter which I lately received from an impartial and discerning friend. " J'ose vous assurer que Monsieur Stanhope reussira. II a un grand fond de s^avoir, et une memoire prodigieuse, sans faire parade de 1'un ou de Fautre. II cherche a plaire, et il plaira. II a de la physionomie ; sa figure est jolie quoique petite. II n'a rien de gauche quoiqu'il n'ai'e pas encore toutes les graces requises, que Marcel et les femmes lui donneront bientot. Enfin il ne lui manque que ce qui devoit necessairement lui manquer a son age ; je veux dire, les usages, et une certaine delicatesse dans les manieres, qui ne s'acquierent que par le terns et la bonne compagnie. Avec son esprit, il les prendra bient6t, il y a deja fait des progres, et il frequente les compagnies les plus propres & les lui donner." By this extract, which I can assure you is a faithful one, you and I have both the satisfaction of knowing how much you have and how little you want. Let what you have, give you (if possible) rather more seeming modesty, but at the same time more interior firmness and assurance ; and let what you want, which you see is very attainable, redouble your attention and endeavours to acquire it. You have, in truth, but that one thing to apply to it, and a vevy pleasing application it is, since it is through pleasures that you must arrive at it. Company, suppers, balls, spectacles, which show you the models upon which you should form yourself, and all the little usages, customs, and delicacies which you must adopt, and make habitual to you, are now your only schools and universities ; in which young fellows and fine women will give you the best lectures. Monsieur du Boccage is another of your panegyrists ; and he tells me that Madame du Boccage a pris avec vous le ton de mie et de bonne ; and that you like it very well. You are in the right of it ; it is the way of improving ; endeavour to be upon that footing with every woman you converse with ; excepting where there may be a tender point of connection ; a point which I have nothing to do with ; but if such a one there is, I hope she has not de mauvais ni de vilains bras, which I agree with you in thinkino- a very disagreeable thing. VOL. I. D D 40'2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. I have sent you, by the opportunity of Pollock the courier, who was once my servant, two little parcels of Greek and English books ; and shall send you two more by Mr. Yorke ; but I accom- pany them with this caution ; that, as you have not much time to read, you should employ it in reading what is most necessary ; and that is, indisputably, modern historical, geographical, chro- nological, and political knowledge; the present constitution, maxims, force, riches, trade, commerce, characters, parties, and cabals of the several Courts of Europe. Many who are reckoned good scholars, though they know pretty accurately the govern- ments of Athens and Rome, are totally ignorant of the constitu- tion of any one country now in Europe, even of their own. Read just Latin and Greek enough to keep up your classical learning, which will be an ornament to you while young and a comfort to you when old. But the true, useful knowledge, and especially for you, is the modern knowledge above-mentioned. It is that which must qualify you both for domestic and foreign business, and it is to that, therefore, that you should principally direct your attention ; and I know, with great pleasure, that you do so. I would not thus commend you to yourself, if I thought com- mendations would have upon you those ill-effects which they frequently have upon weak minds. I think you are much above being a vain coxcomb, overrating your own merit, and insulating others with the superabundance of it. On the contrary, I am convinced, that the consciousness of merit makes a man of sense more modest, though more firm. A man who displays his own merit is a coxcomb, and a man who does not know it is a fool. A man of sense knows it, exerts it, avails himself of it, but never boasts of it ; and always seems rather to under than overvalue it, though, in truth, he sets the right value upon it. It is a very true maxim of La Bruyere's (an author well worth your studying) qu'on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce que I'on veut valoir. A man who is really diffident, timid, and bashful, be his merit what it will, never can push himself in the world; his despondency throws him into inaction ; and the forward, the bustling, and the petulant will always get the better of him. The manner makes the whole difference. What would be impudence in one man, is only a proper and decent assurance in another. A man of sense, and of knowledge of the world, will assert his own rights and LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 403 pursue his own objects as steadily and intrepidly as the most impudent man living, and commonly more so ; but then he has art enough to give an outward air of modesty to all he does. This engages and prevails, whilst the very same things shock and fail, from the overbearing or impudent manner only of doing them. I repeat my maxim, suaviter in modo sed fortiter in re. Would you know the characters, modes, and manners of the latter end of the last age, which are very like those of the present, read La Bruyere. But would you know man, independently of modes, read La Rochefoucault, who, I am afraid, paints him very exactly. Give the enclosed to Abbe Guasco, of whom you make good use, to go about with you and see things. Between you and me, he has more knowledge than parts. Mais un habile homme sqait tirer parti de tout ; and everybody is good for something. Presi- dent Montesquieu is, in every sense, a most useful acquaintance. He has parts joined to great reading and knowledge of the world. Puisez dans cette source tant que vouspourrez. Adieu ! May the Graces attend you ; for without them ogni fatica e vana. If they do not come to you willingly, ravish them, and force them to accompany all you think, all you say, and all you do. CLIX. LONDON, February 11, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, When you go to the play, which I hope you do often, for it is a very instructive amusement, you must certainly have observed the very different effects which the several parts have upon you, according as they are well or ill acted. The very best tragedy of Corneille's, if well spoken and acted, interests, engages, agitates, and affects your passions. Love, terror, and pity, alternately possess you. But if ill spoken and acted, it would only excite your indignation or your laughter. Why ? It is still Corneille's; it is the same sense, the same matter, whether well or ill acted. It is then merely the manner of speaking and acting that makes this great difference in the effects. Apply this to yourself, and conclude from it, that if you would either please in a private company, or persuade in a public assembly, air, looks, gestures, graces, enunciation, proper accents, just emphasis, and tuneful 404 LOUD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. cadences, are full as necessary as the matter itself. Let awkward, ungraceful, inelegant, and dull fellows say what they will in behalf of their solid matter and strong reasonings, and let them despise all those graces and ornaments, which engage the senses and captivate the heart ; they will find (though they will possibly wonder why) that their rough unpolished matter, and their un- adorned, coarse, but strong arguments, will neither please nor persuade, but, on the contrary, will tire out attention and excite disgust. We are so made, we love to be pleased better than to be informed ; information is, in a certain degree, mortifying, as it implies our previous ignorance ; it must be sweetened to be palatable. To bring this directly to you ; know that no man can make a figure in this country, but by Parliament. Your fate depends upon your success there as a speaker j and, take my word for it, that success depends much more upon manner than matter. Mr. Pitt,* and Mr. Murray, the Solicitor-General,f uncle to Lord Stormont, are, beyond comparison , the best speakers ; why ? Only because they are the best orators. They alone can inflame or quiet the House ; they alone are so attended to, in that numerous and noisy assembly, that you might hear a pin fall while either of them is speaking. Is it that their matter is better, or their arguments stronger, than other people's ? Does the House expect extraordinary informations from them ? Not in the least ; but the House expects pleasure from them, and therefore attends ; finds it, and therefore approves. Mr. Pitt, particularly, has very little Parliamentary knowledge ; his matter is generally flimsy, and his arguments often weak : bub his elo- quence is superior, his action graceful, his enunciation just and harmonious; his periods are well turned, and every word he makes use of is the very best, and the most expressive that can be used in that place. This, and not his matter, made him Pay- master, in spite of both King and ministers. From this, draw the obvious conclusion. * William Pitt, born 1708 ; Earl of Chatham, 1766 ; died 1778. f William Murray, born at Perth., 1705 ; Solicitor General, 1742 ; Chief Justice with the title of Earl of Mansfield, 1756. In the riots in London in 1780, his house in Bloomsbury Square, with his valuable library, was burnt. Died 1793. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 405 The same thing holds full as true in conversation, where even trifles, elegantly expressed, well looked, and accompanied with graceful action, will ever please, beyond all the home-spun, una- dorned sense in the world. Reflect, on one side, how you feel within yourself, while you are forced to suffer the tedious, muddy, and ill -turned narration of some awkward fellow, even though the fact may be interesting ; and on the other hand, with what pleasure you attend to the relation of a much less interesting matter, when elegantly expressed, genteelly turned, and grace- fully delivered. By attending carefully to all these agremens in your daily conversation, they will become habitual to you, before you come into Parliament ; and you will have nothing then to do but to raise them a little when you come there. I would wish you to be so attentive to this object, that I would not have you speak to your footman but in the very best words that the subject admits of, be the language which it will. Think of your words, and of their arrangement, before you speak ; choose the most elegant, and place them in the best order. Consult your own ear, to avoid cacophony; and what is very near as bad, monotony. Think also of your gesture and looks, when you are speaking even upon the most trifling subjects. The same things differently expressed, looked, and delivered, cease to be the same things. The most passionate lover in the world cannot make a stronger declaration of love than the Bourgeois Gentilhomme does in this happy form of words, Mourir d'amour me font belle Marquise vos beaux yeux.* I defy anybody to say more ; and yet I would advise nobody to say that ; and I would recommend to you rather to smother and conceal your passion entirely than to reveal it in these words. Seriously, this holds in everything, as well as in that ludicrous instance. The French, to do them justice, attend very minutely to the purity, the correctness and the elegancy of their style, in conversation, and in their letters. Bien narrer is an object of their study ; and though they some- times carry it to affectation, they never sink into inelegancy, which is much the worst extreme of the two. Observe them, and form your French style upon theirs ; for elegancy in one language will reproduce itself in all. I knew a young man, who * M. Jourdain is taught five ways in which this sentiment can be expressed, but this is not one of them. See act ii. scene 6. 406 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. being just elected a member of Parliament, was laughed at for being discovered, through the keyhole of his chamber door, speaking to himself in the glass, and forming his looks and gestures. I could not join in that laugh, but on the contrary, thought him much wiser than those who laughed at him ; for he knew the importance of those little graces in a public assembly, and they did not. Your little person (which I am told by the way is not ill-turned), whether in a laced coat, or a blanket, is specifically the same ; but yet, I believe, you choose to wear the former ; and you are in the right, for the sake of pleasing more. The worst-bred man in Europe, if a lady let fall her fan, would certainly take it up and give it to her ; the best-bred man in Europe, could do no more. The difference however would be considerable ; the latter would please by doing it gracefully ; the former would be laughed at for doing it awkwardly. I repeat it, and repeat it again, and shall never cease repeating it to you, air, manners, graces, style, elegancy, and all those ornaments, must now be the only objects of your attention ; it is now, or never, that you must acquire them. Postpone, therefore, all other considerations ; make them now your serious study ; you have not one moment to lose. The solid and the ornamental united are undoubtedly best ; but were I reduced to make an option, I should, without hesitation, choose the latter. I hope you assiduously frequent Marcel, and carry graces from him ; nobody had more to spare than he had formerly. Have you learned to carve ? for it is ridiculous not to carve well. A man who tells you gravely that he cannot carve, may as well tell you that he cannot blow his nose; it is both as necessary and as easy. Make my compliments to Lord Huntingdon, whom I love and honour extremely, as I dare say you do ; I will write to him soon, though I believe he has hardly time to read a letter; and my letters to those I love are, as you know by experience, not very short ones ; this is one proof of it, and this would have been longer, if the paper had been so. Good night then, my dear child. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 407 CLX. LONDON, February 28, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, This epigram in Martial, Non amo te, Sabidi, nee possum dicere quare, Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te ; has puzzled a great many people ; who cannot conceive how it is possible not to love anybody, and yet not to know the reason why. I think I conceive Martial's meaning very clearly, though the nature of epigram, which is to be short, would not allow him to explain it more fully ; and I take it to be this, " O Sabidis, you are a very worthy deserving man ; you have a thousand good qualities, you have a great deal of learning ; I esteem, I respect, but for the soul of me I cannot love you, though I cannot par- ticularly say why. You are not amiable ; you have not those engaging manners, those pleasing attentions, those graces, and that address, which are absolutely necessary to please, though impossible to define. I cannot say it is this or that particular thing that hinders me from loving you, it is the whole together ; and upon the whole you are not agreeable." How often have I, in the course of my life, found myself in this situation, with regard to many of my acquaintance, whom I have honoured and respected without being able to love ? I did not know why, because, when one is young, one does not take the trouble, nor allow oneself the time, to analyse one's senti- ments, and to trace them up to their source. But subsequent observation and reflection have taught me why. There is a man, whose moral character, deep learning, and superior parts, I acknowledge, admire, and respect ; but whom it is impossible for me to love, that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his com- pany. His figure (without being deformed) seems made to dis- grace or ridicule the common structure of the human body. His legs and arms are never in the position which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to be in ; but constantly em- ployed in committing acts of hostility upon the Graces. He throws anywhere, but down his throat, whatever he means to drink ; and only mangles what he means to carve. Inattentive to all the regards of social life, he mis-times or mis-places every- 408 LOED CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. thing. He disputes with heat, and indiscriminately ; mindless of the rank, character and situation of the several gradations of familiarity or respect ; he is exactly the same to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore, by a necessary con- sequence, absurd to two of the three. Is it possible to love such a man ? No. The utmost I can do for him, is to consider him a respectable Hottentot.* I remember that when I came from Cambridge, I had acquired among the pedants of an illiberal seminary a sauciness of litera- ture, a turn to satire and contempt, and a strong tendency to argumentation and contradiction. But I had been but a very little in the world, before I found that this would by no means do ; and I immediately adopted the opposite character ; I con- cealed what learning I had ; I applauded often without approv- ing ; and I yielded commonly, without conviction. Suaviter in modo was my Law and my Prophets ; and if I pleased, (between you and me) it was much more owing to that than to any superior knowledge or merit of my own. A propos, the word pleasing puts one in mind of Lady Hervey : pray tell her, that I declare her responsible to me for your pleas- ing; that I consider her as a pleasing Falstaff, who not only pleases herself, but is the cause of pleasing in others ; that I know she can make anything of anybody; and that, as your * " This character has been generally understood to be meant for Dr. Johnson ; and I have no doubt that it was," says Boswell. " But I re- member when the literary property of Lord Chesterfield's Letters was contested in the Court of Sessions in Scotland, and M. Dundas, one of the counsel for the proprietors read this character as an exhibition of John- son, Lord Hailes, one of the judges, maintained, with some warmth, that it was not intended as a portrait of Johnson, but of a late noble Lord, dis- tinguished for abstruse science. I have heard Johnson himself talk of the character, and say that it was meant for George Lord Lyttelton, in which I could by no means agree ; for his Lordship had nothing of that violence which is a conspicuous feature in the composition. Finding that my illustrious friend could bear to have it supposed that it might be meant for him, I said laughingly that there was one trait which unques- tionably did not belong to him, he throws his meat anywhere but down his throat. ' Sir,' said he, ' Lord Chesterfield never saw me eat in his life! ' " Life of Dr. Johnson, ad ann. 1754. Dr. Birkbeck Hill, however, has shown (Dr. Johnson : his Friends, his Critics) that Dr. Johnson was not intended in this passage, but Mr., afterwards Lord, Lyttelton. See Letters CIX. of 22 Sep. 1749, and CXVIL, Nov. 1749. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 409 governess, if she does not make you please, it must be only because she will not, and not because she cannot. I hope you are, du bois dont on en fait ; and if so, she is so good a sculptor, that I am sure she can give you whatever form she pleases. A versatility of manners is as necessary in social, as a versatility of parts is in political life. One must often yield, in order to prevail : one must humble one's-self, to be exalted; one must, like St. Paul, become all things to all men, to gain some ; and (by the way) men are taken by the same means, mutatis mutandis, that women are gained ; by gentleness, insinuation, and submission ; and these lines of Mr. Dryden's will hold to a Minister as well as to a Mistress. The prostrate lover, when he lowest lies, But stoops to conquer, and but kneels to rise.* In the course of the world, the qualifications of the cameleon are often necessary; nay, they must be carried a little farther, and exerted a little sooner ; for you should, to a certain degree, take the hue of either the man or the woman that you want, and wish to be upon terms with. A propos, Have you yet found out at Paris any friendly and hospitable Madame de Lursay,f qui vent bien se charger du soin de vous eduquer ? And have you had any occasion of representing to her, qu'elle faisoit done des nceuds? But I ask your pardon, Sir, for the abruptness of the question, arid acknowledge that I am meddling with matters that are out of my department. However, in matters of less importance I desire to be de vos secrets le fidele depositaire. Trust me with the general turn and colour of your amusements at Paris. Is it le fracas du grand monde, comedies, bals, operas, cour, c,ic. ? Or is it des petites societes moins bruyantes mais pas pour cela moins agreables ? Where are you the most etabli ? Where are you le petit Stanhope ? Voyez vous encore jour a quelque arrangement nonnete? Have you made any acquaintance among the young Frenchmen who ride at your Academy; and who are they? Send me this sort of chit-chat in your letters, which, by the bye, I wish you would honour me with somewhat oftener. If you frequent any of * Dryden's Amphytrion, Act iii. ; another version is " submits to con- quer." Goldsmith's comedy, " She Stoops to Conquer," was first acted on March 15, 1773. f See Letter CXIX. of Nov. 26, 1749, and note. 410 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. the myriads of polite Englishmen who infest Paris, who are they ? Have you finished with Abbe Nollet,* and are you au fait of all the properties and effects of air ? Were I inclined to quibble, I would say, that the effects of air, at least, are best to be learned of Marcel. If you have quite done with 1'Abbe Nollet, ask ray friend 1'Abbe Sallier f to recommend to you some meagre philomath, to teach you a little geometry and astronomy ; not enough to absorb your attention, and puzzle your intellects, but only enough, not to be grossly ignorant of either. I have of late been a sort of an astronome malgre moi, by bringing last Monday, into the House of Lords, a bill for reforming our pre- sent Calendar, and taking the New Style. Upon which occa- sion I was obliged to talk some astronomical jargon, of which I did not understand one word, but got it by heart, and spoke it by rote from a master. I wished that I had known a little more of it myself ; and so much I would have you know. But the great and necessary knowledge of all is, to know yourself and others : this knowledge requires great attention and long experi- ence ; exert the former, and may you have the latter ! Adieu. P.S. I have this moment received your letters of the 27th February, and the 2d March, N.S. The seal shall be done as soon as possible. I am glad that you are employed in Lord Albemarle's bureau ; it will teach you, at least the mechanical part of that business, such as folding, entering, and docketing letters ; for you must not imagine that you are into the fin fin of the correspondence, nor indeed is it fit that you should at your age. However, use yourself to secrecy as to the letters you either read or write, that in time you may be trusted with secret, very secret, separate, apart, etc. I am sorry that this business interferes with your riding ; I hope it is but seldom ; but I insist upon its not interfering with your dancing-master, who is at this time the most useful and necessary of all the masters you have or can have. * Jean Antoine Nollet (born 1700, died 1770) was lecturer on experimental philosophy to the Duke of Savoy, and afterwards Professor of physics in Paris. .f Claude Sallier (born 1685, died 1761) was an active and distinguished member of the Academic des Inscriptions, to which he contributed a great number of interesting essays. LOKD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEES. 411 CLXI. MY DEAR FRIEND, I mentioned to you, some time ago, a sentence, which I would most earnestly wish you always to retain in your thoughts and observe in your conduct. It is suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. I do not know any one rule so unexceptionally useful and necessary in every part of life. I shall therefore take it for my text to-day ; and as old men love preaching, and I have some right to preach to you, I here present you with my sermon upon these words. To proceed then regularly and pulpetically ; I will first show you, my beloved, the necessary connexion of the two members of my text, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. In the next place, I shall set forth the advantages and utility resulting from a strict observance of the precept contained in my text ; and conclude with an application of the whole. The suaviter in modo alone would degenerate and sink into a mean, timid com- plaisance, and passiveness, if not supported and dignified by the fortiter in re; which would also run into impetuosity and brutality if not tempered and softened by the suaviter in modo; however, they are seldom united. The warm choleric man with strong animal spirits despises the suaviter in modo, and thinks to carry all before him by the fortiter in re. He may, possibly, by great accidents, now and then succeed, when he has only weak and timid people to deal with ; but his general fate will be to shock, offend, be hated, and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty man, thinks to gain all ends by the suaviter in modo only : he becomes all things to all men ; he seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the present opinion of the present person; he insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon detected, and surely despised by everybody else. The wise man (who differs as much from the cunning as from the choleric man) alone joins the suaviter in modo with the fortiter in re. Now to the advantages arising from the strict observance of this precept. If you are in authority, and have a right to com- mand, your commands delivered suaviter in modo will be will- ingly, cheerfully, and consequently well obeyed ; whereas, if given only fortiter, that is brutally, they will rather, as Tacitus 412 LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. says, be interpreted than executed. For my own part, if I bid my footman bring me a glass of wine in a rough, insulting manner, I should expect that in obeying me he would contrive to spill some of it upon me ; and I am sure I should deserve it. A cool, steady resolution should show, that where you have a right to com- mand you will be obeyed ; but, at the same time, a gentleness in the manner of enforcing that obedience should make it a cheerful one, and soften, as much as possible, the mortifying consciousness of inferiority. If you are to ask a favour, or even to solicit your due, you must do it suaviter in modo, or you will give those who have a mind to refuse you either, a pretence to do it by resenting the manner; but, on the other hand, you must, by a steady perseverance and decent tenaciousness, show thefortiter in re. The right motives are seldom the true ones of men's actions, especially of kings, ministers, and people in high stations; who often give to importunity, and fear what they would refuse to justice or to merit. By the suaviter in modo engage their hearts, if you can ; at least, prevent the pretence of offence ; but take care to show enough of ihefortiter in re to extort from their love of ease, or their fear, what you might in vain hope for from their justice or good-nature. People in high life are hardened to the wants and distresses of mankind as surgeons are to their bodily pains ; they see and hear of them all day long, and even of so many simulated ones, that they do not know which are real and which not. Other sentiments are therefore to be applied to than those of mere justice and humanity ; their favour must be captivated by the suaviter in modo ; their love of ease disturbed by unwearied importunity, or their fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of implacable, cool resentment; this is the truefortiter in re. This precept is the only way I know in the world of being loved without being despised, and feared without being hated. It constitutes the dignity of character, which every wise man must endeavour to establish. Now to apply what has been said, and so conclude. If you find that you have a hastiness in your temper, which unguardedly breaks out into indiscreet sallies or rough expres- sions, to either your superiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it narrowly, check it carefully, and call the suaviter in modo to your assistance ; at the first impulse of passion be silent LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 413 till you can be soft. Labour even to get the command of your countenance so well, that those emotions may not be read in it ; a most unspeakable advantage in business. On the other hand, let no complaisance, no gentleness of temper, no weak desire of pleasing on your part, no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, on other people's, make you recede one jot from any point that reason and prudence have bid you pursue ; but return to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most things attain- able that are possible. A yielding, timid meekness is always abused and insulted by the unjust and the unfeeling ; but when sustained by the fortiter in re, is always respected, commonly successful. In your friendships and connections, as well as in your enmities, this rule is particularly useful ; let your firmness and vigour preserve and invite attachments to you ; but, at the same time, let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends and dependants from becoming yours ; let your enemies be dis- armed by the gentleness of your manner, but let them feel at the same time the steadiness of your just resentment ; for there is great difference between bearing malice, which is always un- generous, and a resolute self-defence, which is always prudent and justifiable. In negotiations with foreign Ministers, remem- ber the fortiter in re ; give up no point, accept of no expedient, till the utmost necessity reduces you to it, and even then dispute the ground inch by inch; but then, while you are contending with the minister fortiter in re, remember to gain the man by the suaviter in modo. If you engage his heart, you have a fair chance for imposing upon his understanding, and determining his will. Tell him in a frank and gallant manner that your ministerial wrangles do not lessen your personal regard for his merit ; but that, on the contrary, his zeal and ability in the service of his master increase it ; and that of all things you desire to make a good friend of so good a servant. By these means you may and will very often be a gainer ; you never can be a loser. Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be easy and civil to those who are either their rivals, competitors, or opposers, though, independently of those accidental circumstances, they would like and esteem them. They betray a shyness and an awkwardness in company with them, and catch at any little thing to expose them; and so, from temporary and only occasional 414 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. opponents, make them their personal enemies. This is exceed- ingly weak and detrimental, as indeed is all humour in business ; which can only be carried on successfully by unadulterated good policy and right reasoning. In such situations I would be more particularly and noblement civil, easy, and frank, with the man whose designs I traversed ; this is commonly called generosity and magnanimity, but is, in truth, good sense and policy. The manner is often as important as the matter, sometimes more so ; a favour may make an enemy, and an injury may make a friend, according to the different manner in which they are severally done. The countenance, the address, the words, the enunciation, the Graces, add great efficacy to the suaviter in modo, and great dignity to the fortiter in re ; and consequently they deserve the utmost attention. From what has been said I conclude with this observation : that gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind, is a short but full description of human perfection, on this side of religious and moral duties ; that you may be seriously convinced of this truth, and show it in your life and conversation, is the most sincere and ardent wish of Yours. CLXII. LONDON, March 11, O.S. 1751. MY DEAE FKIEND, I received by the last post a letter from Abbe Guasco, in which he joins his representations to those of Lord Albemarle, against your remaining any longer in your very bad lodgings at the Academy ; and, as I do not find that any advantage can arise to you from being interne in an Academy, which is full as far from the riding-house, and from all your other masters, as your lodgings will probably be, I agree to your removing to an hdtel garni ; the Abbe' will help you to find one, as I desire him by the enclosed, which you will give him. I must, however, annex one condition to your going into private lodgings, which is an abso- lute exclusion of English breakfasts and suppers at them ; the former consume the whole morning, and the latter employ the evenings very ill, in senseless toasting a I'Angloise in their in- fernal claret. You will be sure to go to the riding-house as LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 415 often as possible, that is, whenever your new business at Lord Albemarle's does not hinder you. But at all events, I insist upon your never missing Marcel, who is at present of more consequence to you than all the bureaus in Europe ; for this is the time for you to acquire tons ces petits riens, which, though in arithmetical account, added to one another ad infinitum, they would amount to nothing, in the account of the world amount to a great and important sum. Les agremens et les graces, without which you you will never be anything, are absolutely made up of all those riensj which are more easily felt than described. By the way, you may take your lodgings for one whole year certain, by which means you may get them much cheaper ; for though I intend to see you here in less than a year, it will be but for a little time, and you will return to Paris again, where I intend you shall stay till the end of April twelvemonth, 1 752 ; at which time, provided you have got all la politesse, les manieres, les attentions, et les graces du beau monde, I shall place you in some business suitable to your destination. 1 have received, at last, your present of the cartoon from Dominichino, by Blanchet. It is very finely done ; it is pity that he did not take in all the figures of the original. I will hang it up, where it shall be your own again some time or other. Mr. Harte is returned in perfect health from Cornwall, and has taken possession of his prebendal house at Windsor, which is a very pretty one. As I dare say you will always feel, I hope you will always express, the strongest sentiments of gratitude and friendship for him. Write to him frequently, and attend to the letters you receive from him. He shall be with us at Blackheath, alias Babiole,* all the time that I propose you shall be there, which I believe will be the month of August next. Having thus mentioned to you the probable time of ouc meet- ing, I will prepare you a little for it. Hatred, jealousy, or envy, make most people attentive to discover the least defects of those they do not love ; they rejoice at every new discovery they make of that kind, and take care to publish it. I thank God, I do not know what those three ungenerous passions are, having never felt them in my own breast ; but love has just the same effect * Lord Chesterfield's house at Blackheath. See his letter to Madame de Monconseil of July 8th, 1749. 416 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. upon me, except that I conceal, instead of publishing, the defects which my attention makes me discover in those I love. I curi- ously pry into them ; I analyse them ; and, wishing either to find them perfect or to make them so, nothing escapes me, and I soon discover every the least gradation towards, or from, that perfec- tion. You must therefore expect the most critical examen that ever anybody underwent ; I shall discover your least, as well as your greatest defects, and I shall vary freely tell you of them, Non quod odio habeam, sed quod amem. But I shall tell them you tete-a-tete, and as Micio, not as Deinea;* and I will tell them to nobody else. I think it but fair to inform you beforehand, where I suspect that my criticisms are likely to fall ; and that is more upon the outward, than upon the inward man ; I neither suspect your heart nor your head ; but, to be plain with you, I have a strange distrust of your air, your address, your manners, your tournure, and particularly of your enunciation and elegancy of style. These will be all put to the trial ; for while you are with me, you must do the honours of my house and table ; the least inaccuracy or inelegancy will not escape me ; as you will find by a look at the time, and by a remonstrance afterwards when we are alone. You will see a great deal of company of all sorts at Babiole, and particularly foreigners. Make therefore, in the mean time, all these exterior and ornamental qualifications your peculiar care, and disappoint all my imaginary schemes of criticism. Some authors have criticised their own works first, in hopes of hindering others from doing it afterwards ; but then they do it themselves with so much tenderness and partiality for their own production, that not only the production itself, but the preventive criticism, is criticised. I am not one of those authors ; but on the contrary, my severity increases with my fondness for my work ; and if you will but effectually correct all the faults I shall find, 1 will insure you from all subsequent criticisms from other quarters. Are yon got a little into the interior, into the constitution of things at Paris? Have you seen what you have seen thoroughly? For, by the way, few people see what they see, or hear what they hear. For example : if you go to les Invalids*, do you content yourself with seeing the building, the hall where three or four * See the Adelplii of Terence. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 417 hundred cripples dine, and the galleries where they do lie ; or you inform yourself of the numbers, the conditions of their admission, their allowance, the value and nature of the fund by which the whole is supported ? This latter I call seeing, the former is only staring. Many people take the opportunity of les vacances, to go and see the empty rooms, where the several chambers of the Parliament did sit; which rooms are exceedingly like all other large rooms ; when you go there, let it be when they are full ; see and hear what is doing in them ; learn their respective constitutions, jurisdictions, objects, and methods of proceeding ; hear some causes tried in every one of the different chambers. Approfondissez les choses. I am glad to hear that you are so well at Marquis de St. Ger- main's,* of whom I hear a very good character. How are you with the other foreign ministers at Paris ? Do you frequent the Dutch Ambassador or Ambassadress ? Have you any footing at the Nuncio's or at the Imperial and Spanish Ambassador's ? It is useful. Be more particular in your letters to me, as to your manner of passing your time, and the company you keep. Where do you dine and sup oftenest ? whose house is most your home ? Adieu. Les Graces, les Graces ! CLXIII. LONDON, March 18, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, I acquainted you in a former letter that I had brought a bill into the House of Lords, for correcting and reforming our pre- sent calendar, which is the Julian, and for adopting the Gre- gorian. I will now give you a more particular account of that affair, from which reflections will naturally occur to you that I hope may be useful, and which I fear you have not made. It was notorious, that the Julian calendar was erroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with eleven days. Pope Gregory XIII. corrected this error ; his reformed calendar was immedi- ately received by all the Catholic Powers of Europe, and after- wards adopted by all the Protestant ones, except Russia, Sweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honourable for England to remain in a gross and avowed error, especially in * Ambassador from the King of Sardinia at the Court of France. VOL. I. E E 418 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. such company; the inconvenience of it was likewise felt by all those who had foreign correspondences, whether political or mercantile. I determined, therefore, to attempt the reformation ; I consulted the best lawyers, and the most skilful astronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpose. But then my diffi- culty began ; I was to bring in this bill, which was necessarily composed of law jargon and astronomical calculations, to both which I am an utter stranger. However, it was absolutely necessary to make the House of Lords think that I knew some- thing of the matter, and also to make them believe that they knew something of it themselves, which they do not. For my own part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them as astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well j so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead of informing them. I gave them, there- fore, only an historical account of calendars, from the Egyptian down to the Gregorian, amusing them now and then with little episodes ; but I was particularly attentive to the choice of my words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, to my elo- cution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever will succeed ; they thought I informed, because I pleased them ; and many of them said, that I had made the whole very clear to them, when, God knows, I had not even attempted it. Lord Macclesfiald, who had the greatest share in forming the bill, and who is one of the greatest mathematicians and astronomers in Europe,* spoke afterwards with infinite knowledge, and all the clearness that so intricate a matter would admit of; but as his words, his periods, and his utterance were not near so good as mine, the prefer- ence was most unanimously, though most unjustly, given to me. This will ever be the case ; every numerous assembly is mob, let the individuals who compose it be what they will. Mere reason and good sense is never to be talked to a mob ; their passions, their sentiments, their senses, and their seeming interests, are alone to be applied to. Understanding they have collectively none ; but they have ears and eyes, which must be flattered and seduced ; and this can only be done by eloquence, tuneful periods, graceful action, and all the various parts of oratory. * George, second Earl of Macclesfield. In November, 1751, he was unanimously elected President of the Koyal Society. He died in 1764. CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 419 When you come into the House of Commons, if you imagine that speaking plain and unadorned sense and reason will do your business, you will find yourself most grossly mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked only according to your eloquence, and by no means according to your matter ; everybody knows the matter almost alike, but fevr can adorn it. I was early convinced of the importance and powers of eloquence, and from that moment I applied myself to it. I resolved not to utter one word, even in common conversation, that should not be the most expressive and the most elegant that the language could supply me with for that purpose ; by which means I have acquired such a certain degree of habitual eloquence, that I must now really take some pains, if I would express myself very inelegantly. I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which you seem by no means to be convinced of yet that ornaments are at present your only objects. Your sole business now is to shine, not to weigh. Weight without lustre is lead. You had better talk trifles elegantly, to the most trifling woman, than coarse inele- gant sense to the most solid man. You had better return a dropped fan genteelly, than give a thousand pounds awkwardly ; and you had better refuse a favour gracefully, than grant it clum- sily. Manner is all in everything ; it is by manner only that you can please, and consequently rise. All your Greek will never advance you from Secretary to Envoy, or from Envoy to Ambas- sador; but your address, your manner, your air, if good, very probably may. Marcel can be of much more use to you than Aristotle. I would, upon my word, much rather that you had Lord Bolingbroke's style and eloquence, in speaking and writing, than all the learning of the Academy of Sciences, the Royal Society, and the two Universities united. Having mentioned Lord Bolingbroke's style, which is, un- doubtedly, infinitely superior to anybody's, I would have you read his works, which you have, over and over again, with par- ticular attention to his style. Transcribe, imitate, emulate it, if possible; that would be of real use to you in the House of Com- mons, in negotiations, in conversation \ with that, you may justly hope to please, to persuade, to seduce, to impose ; and you will fail in those articles, in proportion as you fall short of it. Upon the whole, lay aside, during your year's residence at Paris, all 420 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. thoughts of all that dull fellows call solid, and exert your utmost care to acquire what people of fashion call shining. Prenez I'eclat et le brilJant d'un yalant homme. Among the commonly-called little things to which you do not attend, your handwriting is one, which is indeed shamefully bad, and illiberal ; it is neither the hand of a man of business, nor of a gentleman, but of a truant schoolboy; as soon, therefore, as you have done with Abbe Nollet, pray get an excellent writing- master, since you think that you cannot teach yourself to write what hand you please ; and let him teach you to write a genteel, legible, liberal hand, and quick, not the hand of a procureur, or a writing- master, but that sort of hand in which the first Corn- mis in foreign bureaus commonly write ; for 1 tell you truly, that were I Lord Albemarle, nothing should remain in my bureau written in your present hand. From hand to arms the transition is natural ; is the carriage and motion of your arms so too ? The motion of the arms is the most material part of a man's air, especially in dancing ; the feet are not near so mate- rial. If a man dances well from the waist upwards, wears his hat well, and moves his head properly, he dances well. Do the women say that you dress well ? for that is necessary, too, for a young fellow. Have you un gout vif, or a passion for any body f I do not ask for whom ; an Iphigeuia would both give you the desire, and teach you the means to please. In a fortnight or three weeks you will see Sir Charles Hotham at Paris, in his way to Toulouse, where he is to stay a year or two. Pray be very civil to him, but do not carry him into com- pany, except presenting him to Lord Albemarle ; for, as he is not to stay at Paris above a week, we do not desire that he should taste of that dissipation : you may show him a play and an opera. Adieu, my dear child ! CLXIV. LONDON, March 25, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, What a happy period of your life is this ! Pleasure is now, and ought to be, your business. While you were younger, dry rules, and unconnected words, were the unpleasant objects of your labours. When you grow older, the anxiety, the vexations, LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 421 the disappointments, inseparable from public business, will re- quire the greatest share of your time and attention ; your plea- sures may, indeed, conduce to your business, and your business will quicken your pleasures ; but still your time must, at least, be divided ; whereas now it is wholly your own, and cannot be so well employed as in the pleasures of a gentleman. The world is now the only book yon want, and almost the only one you ought to read ; that necessary book can only be read in com- pany, in public places, at meals, and in ruelles. You must be in the pleasures, in order to learn the manners of good company. In premeditated, or in formal business, people conceal, or at least endeavour to conceal, their characters; whereas pleasures dis- cover them, and the heart breaks out through the guard of the understanding. Those are often propitious moments for skilful negotiators to improve. In your destination particularly, the able conduct of pleasures is of infinite use ; to keep a good table, and to do the honours of it gracefully, and sur le ton de la bonne compaynie, is absolutely necessary for a foreign minister. There is a certain light chit-chat, useful to keep off improper and too serious subjects, which is only to be learned in the plea- sures of good company. In truth, it may be trifling; but trifling as it is, a man of parts, and experience of the world, will give an agreeable turn to it. L'art de badiner agreablement is by no means to be despised. An engaging address, and turn to gallantry, is often of very great service to foreign ministers. Women have, directly, or indirectly, a good deal to say in most Courts. The late Lord Stafford * governed, for a considerable time, the Court of Berlin, and made his own fortune, by being well with Madame de War- temberg, the first King of Prussia's mistress. I could name many other instances of that kind. That sort of agreeable caquet defemmes, the necessary fore-runner of closer conferences, is only to be got by frequenting women of the first fashion, et qui donnent le ton. Let every other book then give way to this great and necessary book, the World ; of which there are so many various readings, that it requires a great deal of time and attention to understand it well : contrary to all other books, you * Thomas Wentworth, Lord Raby, first Earl of Strafford of the second creation. He died in 1739. LOBD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTEBS. must uot stay at home, but go abroad to read it ; and, when you seek it abroad, you will not find it in booksellers' shops and stalls, but in Courts, in hotels, at entertainments, balls, assem- blies, spectacles, etc. Pat yourself upon the foot of an easy, domestic, but polite familiarity and intimacy, in the several French houses to which you have been introduced. Cultivate them, frequent them, and show a desire of becoming enfant de la maison. Get acquainted as much as you can with les gens de cow ; and observe, carefully, how politely they can differ, and how civilly they can hate ; how easy and idle they can seem in the multiplicity of their business ; and how they can lay hold of the proper moments to carry it on, in the midst of their plea- sures. Courts, alone, teach versatility and politeness ; for there is no living there without them. Lord Albemarle has, I hear, and am very glad of it, put you into the hands of Messieurs de Bissy. Profit by that, and beg of them to let you attend them in all the companies of Versailles and Paris. One of them, at least, will naturally carry you to Madame de la Valieres, unless she is discarded by this time, and Gelliot * retaken. Tell them frankly, que vous cherchez a vous former, que vous etes en main de maitres, s'ils veulent bien s'eu donner la peine. Your profession has this agreeable peculiarity in it, which is, that it is connected with, and promoted by pleasures; and it is the only one in which a thorough knowledge of the world, polite manners, and an en- gaging address, are absolutely necessary. If a lawyer knows his law, a parson his divinity, and a financier his calculations, each may make a figure and a fortune in his profession, without great knowledge of the world, and without the manners of gentlemen. But your profession throws you into all the in- trigues, and cabals, as well as pleasures, of Courts ; in those windings and labyrinths, a knowledge of the world, a discern- ment of characters, a suppleness and versatility of mind, and an elegancy of manners, must be your clue ; you must know how to soothe and lull the monsters that guard, and how to address and gain the fair that keep, the golden fleece. These are the arts and the accomplishments absolutely necessary for a foreign minister ; in which it must be owned, to our shame, that most other nations out-do the English ; and, cceteris paribus. a French * A famous Opera-singer at Paris. (Note in 1st. Ed.) LORD CHESTEKFIELD'S LETTEBS. 4'23 minister will get the better of an English one, at any third Court iu Europe. The French have something more liant, more in- sinuating and engaging in their manner, than we have. An English minister shall have resided seven years at a Court, with- out having made any one personal connection there, or without being intimate and domestic in any one house. He is always the English minister, and never naturalized. He receives his orders, demands an audience, writes an account of it to his Court, and his business is done. A French minister, on the contrary, has not been six weeks at a Court, without having, by a thousand little attentions, insinuated himself into some degree of favour with the Prince, his wife, his mistress, his favourite, and his minister. He has established himself upon a familiar and domes- tic footing, in a dozen of the best houses of the place, where he has accustomed the people to be not only easy, but unguarded before him ; he makes himself at home there, and they think him so. By these means he knows the interior of those Courts, and can almost write prophecies to his own, from the knowledge he has of the characters, the humours, the abilities, or the weak- nesses, of the actors. The Cardinal d'Ossat * was looked upon at Rome as an Italian, and not as a French Cardinal ; and Mon- sieur d'Avaux,f wherever he went, was never considered as a foreign minister, but as a native, and a personal friend. Mere plain truth, sense, and knowledge, will by no means do alone in Courts ; art and ornaments must come to their assistance. Humours must be flattered ; the mollia tempora must be studied and known ; confidence, acquired by seeming frankness, and profited of by silent skill. And, above all, you must gain and engage the heart, to betray the understanding to you. Hoe tibi erunt artes. The death of the Prince of Wales, J who was more beloved for his affability and good-nature, than esteemed for his steadiness * Arnaud d'Ossat, afterwards Cardinal, negotiated at Home the recon- ciliation of Henri IV. with the Pope. His Correspondence, which first appeared in 1624, has been several times reprinted. He died in 1604. t Jean Antoine, Comte d'Avaux, was the plenipotentiary of France at the Conferences of Nimeguen, and afterwards Ambassador in Holland until the war in 1688. His Lettres et Negotiations were published at the Hague in 1710. M. J Frederick, Prince of Wales, died March 20, 1751. 424 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. and conduct, has given concern to many, and apprehensions to all. The great difference of the ages of the King and Prince George, presents the prospect of a minority ; a disagreeable prospect for any nation ! But it is to be hoped, and is most probable, that the King, who is now perfectly recovered of his late indisposition, may live to see his grandson of age.* He is, seriously, a most hopeful boy ; gentle and good-natured, with good sound sense. This event has made all sorts of people here historians, as well as politicians. Our histories are rummaged for all the particular circumstances of the six minorities we have had since the conquest, viz. those of Henry III., Edward III., Richard II., Henry VI., Edward V., and Edward VI. ; and the reasonings, the speculations, the conjectures, and the predictions, you will easily imagine, must be innumerable and endless, in this nation, where every porter is a consummate politician. Doctor Swift says, very humorously, " Every man knows that he under- stands religion and politics, though he never learned them ; but many people are conscious they do not understand many other sciences, from having never learned them/' Adieu ! CLXV. LONDON, April 7, O.S. 1751. MY DEAR FRIEND, Here you have altogether, the pocket-books, the compasses, and the patterns. When your three Graces have made their option, you need only send me, in a letter, small pieces of the three mohairs they fix upon. If I can find no way of sending them safely, and directly to Paris, I will contrive to have them left with Madame Morel, at Calais ; who, being Madame Mon- conseil's agent there, may find means of furthering them to your three ladies, who all belong to your friend Madame Monconseil. Two of the three, I am told, are handsome ; Madame Polignac, I can swear, is not so ; but however, as the world goes, two out of three is a very good composition. You will also find in the packet a compass ring, set round with little diamonds, which I advise you to make a present of to Abbe Guasco, who has been useful to you, and will continue to be so ; as it is a mere bauble, you must add to the value of it by * George III. was 22 when he succeeded in 1760. LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 425 your manner of giving it him. Show it him first, and, when he commends it, as probably he will, tell him that it is at his service, f>t que comme il est toiijours par vole et par chemins, il est ahsolu- ment necessaire qu'il ait une boussole. All those little gallantries depend entirely upon the manner of doing them ; as, in truth, what does not ? The greatest favours may be done so awkwardly and bunglinglyas to offend; and disagreeable things maybe done so agreeably as almost to oblige. Endeavour to acquire this great secret; it exists, it is to be found, and is worth a great deal more than the grand secret of the Alchymists would be if it were, as it is not, to be found. This is only to be learned in Courts, where clashing views, jarring opinions, and cordial hatreds, are softened, and kept within decent bounds, by politeness and manners. Fre- quent, observe, and learn Courts. Are you free of that of St. Cloud? Are you of ten at Versailles ? Insinuate and wriggle your- self into favour at those places. L' Abbe de la Ville, my old friend,* will help you at the latter ; your three ladies may establish you in the former. The good-breed in